#i already have poorly drawn ft

[djs-sideblog-for-pog-trains]

Friends (that we made up for along the way)

Part 1 |  Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | >>

god knows how long it’s been or if anyone’s still vibing but HEY chapter 5. more gordon angst, ft. thomas and percy! looking forward to next chapter, i think i posted a section of it a while ago but it’s still funny to me

this should pick up pretty directly after the end of chapter 4

Characters: Gordon, Edward, Henry, Thomas, Percy, James, Duck, Sir Topham Hatt, (mentioning all characters who have and will appear, even if they haven’t yet)

Relationships: platonic gordon&edward a major focus, some possible allusions to 2x3 later on.  

Genre: Human AU, hurt/comfort

Chapter’s Wordcount: roughly 1700 words [under the cut]

Chapter Warnings: intrusive/spiralling thoughts, angst go brrr

Chapter 5/?

Chapter 5 - chapter 5

When he knocked, the door was practically immediately yanked open, and Gordon nearly found himself knocking on Percy’s forehead before he knew it.

“Oh,” he said. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Percy said back, trying to smile but very poorly hiding how anxious he looked. “…Is Edward okay? Henry didn’t say much apart from a crash.”

“Edward is in one piece,” Gordon said, loudly enough for Thomas who was lounging in the living room but still listening intently to hear. “He… I think he has a broken leg and ribs and scratched up hands, and his face looked a bit scratched up too, but he’s… fine, other than that.”

They stood there for a moment, Gordon shoving the hand not gripping his suitcase handle into his pocket and blinking rainwater out of his eyes.

“Well,” Percy seemed to shake himself back into gear, flashing him a smile that was nothing short of tired. “C-come in!” And he stepped aside and let Gordon stoop and enter.

It was the same layout as his and Edward’s flat. Well, all the flats for the staff were the same layout, more or less. Saved squabbles in the early days. Each flat had three bedrooms, though not all housed three people. When James moved out of Gordon’s and Edward’s, they repurposed his old room into an office space. Edward spent more time in there than Gordon did, but it was handy for the occasional paperwork Hatt sometimes sent them home with.

Thomas had leapt to his feet as Gordon paused in the middle of the living room, taking it all in. Percy slipped past and stood beside him, and together, they almost looked anxious that he was there.

There. In their home. Intruding.

Gordon cleared his throat, trying to shake the thoughts, and it made his two shorter co-workers jolt, and that shot of guilt lanced through him once again.

“If you could direct me to… wherever I’ll be staying,” he prompted as politely as he could, and the two of them glanced at each other.

“Probably… Henry’s room, right?” Percy asked hesitantly.

“That makes sense,” Thomas nodded. “You’re too big for the couch.”

Gordon did his best not to roll his eyes and let the comment slide as Thomas turned and gestured for Gordon to follow him.

Down the corridor they went, and instead of right Thomas directed him left – to the room that would be Edward’s back in their flat, and opened the door.

The room was painted a pale green, with rich bottle-green curtains which were drawn tight, and had a desklamp casting the room in a warm half-light. But the thing that really got Gordon was… there was artwork all over the walls. Sketches, mostly, some watercolours too, of landscapes, trees, birds; mostly just… nature.

“This is Henry’s…?” he found himself asking, before doing his best to peter out the question before he seemed like an idiot.

“Yeah,” Thomas glanced around, a smile tugging at his face. “Henry likes to draw.”

He then turned on Gordon with a look that said I’m surprised you didn’t know that already and Gordon could only swallow hard and make a show of checking his watch. Though, admittedly, that made his mouth dry out as well.

“It’s 2am,” he said, probably too loudly, and Thomas blinked at him.

“We should… go to bed,” Gordon continued. “…I don’t know about you two, but I have an early train.”

Thomas tried to stay even-faced, but a yawn screwed up his attempt, and he turned away with a sort-of sigh. “Goodnight,” he called, leaving Gordon in the doorway.

“Goodnight, Thomas, Percy,” Gordon half-called, before hesitating, and blurting, “a-and if you need me for anything, you know where I am.”

And he closed the door almost a little too quickly to be casual.

 --- --- ---

Oh, Henry’s room was nice. Henry made all of these? …Gordon had no idea he could draw, let alone paint. And as he found somewhere to put his suitcase and change into nightclothes, he let his eyes wander. And sitting down on Henry’s bed, oh it was soft.

And Gordon immediately felt guilty for Henry having to stay on his own bed, which was extremely ­un-soft.

But before his brain could torture him anymore, Gordon made the executive decision to firmly lie back and close his eyes. He was pretty good at falling asleep almost on command – a skill he’d honed from when he was young. It was easier than lying there having to process emotions and think about what he’d done, and –

He was asleep before he knew it.

 --- --- ---

The next few weeks… passed. Gordon didn’t know if it was going well or not at all, actually. But nothing had burnt down yet, and Percy and Thomas had yet to launch an anarchist takeover of how Gordon had been running the place, so that was a good a sign as any that it wasn’t going catastrophically.

Edward rang most nights, to chat to him after Gordon got back from work, so he started doing his best to remember little things that had happened to him throughout the day, to flavour the conversations with. He had no idea how much enrichment Edward was getting, but he had to admit at times, over the phone, his old friend sounded bored.

One night, he had said “I saw an interesting bird today, along the coast. Thought it was a seagull, but it was far too big. Would Henry know…?”

“Hm,” Edward replied. “Let me ask.”

And Gordon listened to a muffled version of his question as Edward leant away from the handset, before a pause, and Edward replied, “Henry says it might have been an albatross.”

“Hm,” Gordon said. “I see. Thank him for me, will you?”

Then he looked up at the sound of shuffling feet, and saw a bewildered looking Thomas in the doorway.

“Ah,” he said, “Hello, Thomas.”

“Hi,” Thomas replied.

“Oh!” Edward said over the phone. “May I speak with him?”

“Edward would like to speak with you, if you have time,” Gordon relayed, tilting the handset away from his face.

“Oh!” Thomas’ face lit up. “Sure! Of course! Let me just, uh…”

And Thomas was shrugging off his boots and coat before almost scrambling for the phone, which Gordon relinquished, before rising from his place at the kitchen bench.

“I’m just stepping out for a moment,” he said quietly, watched Thomas nod, before walking out the open door and closing it behind him.

The front garden was surprisingly big on these flats, and it was up to the tenants if they wanted to do something with them. Edward had planted a low hedge in theirs now quite a few years ago, and Gordon helped maintain it sometimes. But Gordon couldn’t help but notice here that Henry’s garden was pristine.

Or, it had been pristine, maybe, before Henry had been gone for a few weeks and no-one had touched the damned thing.

Gordon looked around at the weeds and hummed. He looked down at himself, as if to reassure himself he was in his casual clothes, before walking around the housing unit to the standard-issue garden shed that was always at the back left of these properties.

--- --- ---

Thomas had been watching Gordon garden through the kitchen window for the past while, before finally relaying this to Edward with a tone verging on bafflement.

“I mean,” he reasoned, “it was looking pretty bad. We forgot to look after it. Don’t tell Henry, though.”

Edward laughed a little at that, but Thomas could hear how melancholy it was.

“I just didn’t think Gordon would ever get down in the dirt like that,” Thomas mused, leaning on the kitchen bench as he watched. “He’s… Gordon.”

“Oh, no, you’d be surprised at how willing he is to get his hands dirty sometimes. …But, honestly, I think I’ve seen him like this before,” Edward said softly. “…I worry about him, sometimes.”

“About Gordon?” Thomas repeated, scrunching his face up. “Well, I suppose he has been more quiet than I expected. I thought he wouldn’t shut up, old bossy-boiler and all that.”

“…He usually doesn’t,” Edward admitted. “I fear I’ve upset him.”

“Upset him by getting injured?” Thomas echoed doubtfully. “That sounds like a him-problem and not a you-problem, if that’s the case.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Edward replied. “…Oh, what do I know?”

“You know lots,” Thomas shook his head dismissively. “I do think he’s been acting weird. But I’m… I don’t… I don’t really know if me saying anything to him will help. I don’t think he likes me much.”

“I think you’d be surprised. But… weird?”

“Weird, like…” Thomas struggled for words, pushing his bangs off his face as he thought. “Weird, like he’s trying too hard not to be mean. Weird as in being too quiet. Weird as in spends most of his time in his room – in Henry’s room, I mean – and only coming out for meals. I didn’t think he would be that sort of person. Though he is a better cook than Henry. Also don’t tell Henry that.”

Edward chuckled once more, but seemed to reflect on this information like Thomas had told him something important.

“Oh!” A smile broke out on Thomas’ face as he watched Percy come into view over the low stone fence. “Percy’s home.”

“Wonderful!” Edward agreed. “I hope he’s well.”

“Well, he’s still outside,” Thomas reported. “Oop, he’s talking to Gordon now. He looks confused… Man, Gordon’s looking tired. Anyway, ah, here we go, Percy’s walking in the door now.”

“What?” Percy said, standing there, confused.

“It’s Edward on the phone,” Thomas called.

“Ooh!” Percy kicked off his boots and hurried over. “Hello, Edward!”

Thomas handed him the phone before coming over to lean on the doorway, watching Gordon work. He had to admit, Gordon was fast at this. He’d done about a quarter of the garden in the half-hour Thomas had been on the phone.

And Thomas watched Gordon sort-of freeze, before his shoulders just sort of… sagged, and he continued on with his work.

Had he realised Thomas was watching him? …Had that upset him?

Man, he thought he understood Gordon by now. But maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have the slightest clue about what has going on in that man’s head.

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

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

@theflyingkipper @freedreamersuitcasething @mean-scarlet-deceiver  

[heygeneyoucalledmebabe]

here have some absolutely cheesy and poorly written hc's based on our earlier conversation

• you started drawing to pass the time during training

• and kept up the hobby throughout your time in the company, somehow

• despite the chaos around you, you always found time to doodle

• and your subjects were the faces of the men that so often surrounded you

• you'd drawn luz fiddling with his radio

• you'd drawn bull ft. his cigar

• you'd drawn all the boys at least once 

• but you'd drawn babe more than anyone else, having perfected the detail of his features 

• then one day the wind blew open the tattered journal you stashed the drawings away in

• and all your lose faded papers started to blend into the snow on the horizon 

• you'd never clamored so quickly from your foxhole, not even during the blasts had you bolted so fast. 

• you managed to scoop up two, three, five papers at a time, clutching them to your chest as you hurried to collect more

• but a pair of hands that were not your own reached for the last few sketches that had tangled in the branches of a dead tree

• babe started to hand the drawings back your way but retracted the papers in his grasp so he could better see them, all of a sudden

• "so this is why ya always got your nose in that notebook, huh?" he grinned, tearing his eyes from the sketches in his grasp to look at you

• but his gaze was back on the papers in a blink 

• babe sorted through the few he'd rescued, marveling over how you'd sketched malarkey's sad features and toye's ever present scowl. 

• and then he did hand them back with a sweet grin, pointing to a couple loose papers scuttling across the snow just ahead 

• he walked ahead of you to collect those, too, and then said

• "all these drawings.... aren't there any of me?" 

• babe asked with feigned offense and a little glimmer of true wonder 

• and because he'd already found out your secret past time you figured he ought to know the answer to his question 

• "i keep the drawings of you in the back of my journal, so i could never lose em." 

• and by then you'd trudged back to your foxhole, side by side

• and you stuffed the mess of papers back into the leather book you'd almost scribbled up entirely

• and despite the way your heart hammered you flipped to the back cover and pulled out a small collection of folded sketches  each of babe

• "told ya so." you said

• babe took the sketches and stayed quiet as he studied each one

• the paused time nearly drove you mad till he spoke up again 

• "these look more like me than i do." he joked, but his expression was as honest as could be

• "you can keep one. or all of them. sorry if it's weird or-"

• "i want one of you."

• you blinked up to babe who'd been crouched at the side of your foxhole

• "i'll keep one of these. but i'd really like to have one of you, too." 

• "okay." your grinned

• with that, babe handed back the sketches all except the one he wanted to keep and shot you a wink as he started to stand

• "okay!" he called as he started to walk away, blending into the horizon like an apparition

• maybe babe finding out your secrets wasn't such a bad thing after all 

i often say that joe liebgott has my heart- you have my heart 🥺💕

[cuorepietoso]

Things you said with clenched fists / Things you said over the phone

requested by and ft. @katarinadvpont

     I.  2014

     They’re back in Libya, of course. Sometimes he feels like he’s never fucking left this place, like he never will. Blue skies above, with that scorching hot sun that always leaves him casting his gaze around for some shade when the clock hits about noon. Pale sand that gets into all the creases on his body, fills his shoes and his socks. Another civil war, the second in three years, orchestrated by the powers that be for… what, oil? He’s not sure he even knows anymore, which side he’s supposed to be spilling blood for. On base, his hand never seems to stray very far from the scar cut across his abdomen, because more than enough of the blood he’d spilled the last time he was in this country was his own.

     They have a new Carabinieri attache-- she’s almost eye-searingly blonde and lily-skinned in the bright sunlight, he can’t help but wonder how she keeps from turning as red as a lobster. The military police are hardly ever well-liked among the rank and file, seen as fun-killers at best and crooked at worst, but… Tahan thinks she’s probably alright, if only by virtue of the fact that one Capitano Daniel Lombardi hates her. He watches the pair of them from the shade of the MRAP that the late afternoon provides, his legs outstretched in the dirt before him, arms crossed over his rifle. Lombardi is bristling, trying to loom over her like his scant few centimeters he has on the woman affords him any kind of advantage in the face of her icy calm. Yeah, Tahan thinks, he likes her just fine. She’s got a spine of steel, at least, glaring Lombardi down and snapping back at him.

     DuPont, he thinks her name is. He’s never spoken to her directly, just the occasional respectful nod as they pass each other on base, or when he and Rossi are bent over a map, heads bowed together as they work on planning operations, and she sweeps into the room. Right now, she looks like she’s going to choke Lombardi. He thinks he might like to see it-- Rossi’s toe nudges his thigh, and when he tips his head back to squint at him, the younger man gestures silently toward the pair. His meaning is more than obvious: end that before it really starts.

     Ah, well. He really would have put money on the Carabinieri, the way her face has clouded. Tahan stands with a long sigh, and then stalks forward on cat-quiet feet, his rifle slung back over his shoulder. It’s so hot when he gets out of the shade that he almost immediately starts to sweat-- how can these two bicker like this? How do they have the energy?

     He catches the tail end of their conversation, Lombardi hissing out a quiet, “You don’t know what you’re messing with, DuPont--” before he interrupts by clearing his throat. Lombardi cuts himself off and turns his baleful glare onto Tahan, and DuPont takes a moment to try and smooth the anger out of her features. She mostly fails. Her fists are still bunched, the lines of her shoulders and her mouth pulled taut. Before Lombardi can bark out a ‘what’, Tahan snaps out a frankly disrespectful salute to him and then speaks.

     “Maggiore Romano is looking for you, DuPont.” His voice is flat, and he keeps his bored gaze focused on a point between them. It’s a calculated risk-- the Major outranks Lombardi, so the Captain can’t do anything but let her go, and the pair gets along even more poorly than it seems he and DuPont do, so it’s not terribly likely Lombardi will ask. Not terribly likely, but the man trusts Tahan about as much as Tahan trusts him, so it’s still possible. Not that he’d get in all that much trouble. Lombardi opens his fat mouth to say something, but Tahan doesn’t give him the chance, sweeping his arm out in an ‘after you’ gesture for her, with a quiet offer: “I’ll walk you there.”

     The flat line of her mouth turns furious once more, but thankfully she holds her tongue until they’re out of earshot, not even bothering to say goodbye to Lombardi. They walk together in silence until they round a corner, and then she whirls on him, fists curled like she’s thinking about striking him. At least she hasn’t gone for her gun. “Are you insane?” She demands, her voice ringing out of her like thunder. DuPont steps forward, one of her hands gesturing broadly toward the rest of the base. “Does the Maggiore actually need me, or did you make that up?”

     Tahan rocks back on his heels, biting back a smile. He has the feeling his amusement would only serve to act as gasoline on the fire of her fury, so he simply gives her a one shouldered shrug. “Sometimes, and no. Are you?” She stills, high spots of color creeping into her cheeks. “Insane, I mean.”

     “No,” the answer cracks out of her like a whip this time, waspish and ice cold. “I’m beginning to suspect that everyone else here is, though-- you know you’re supposed to be working with the United Nations on all of your operations, don’t you?”

     God. He rummages around in his pockets and pulls out his pack of cigarettes, offering her one as he lights his own. The look she gives him is venomous, but she takes one and he lights that one for her as well. “I’m aware--” Her brows furrow, and she opens her mouth to say something, but he holds up his hand. The gesture is enough to silence her for a half second, if only because she didn’t expect it, and that half second is all he needs. “Listen to me, picking a fight with that fuck Lombardi isn’t going to get you anywhere good.”

     DuPont exhales smoke harshly, staring hard off into the camp. “All this-- all this fucking--” He snorts, taken almost aback by the curse falling out of such an angelic face, and she snaps her electric eyes to him. “This cowboy bullshit. There’s a system in place to make sure everything is done by the book, and done well, and to keep casualties at a minimum, and it seems like nobody cares.”

     Nobody does care. He manages to keep from saying it, but only barely, instead he watches her, brows furrowed. Her fists are still clenched at her sides, like she actually cares. Maybe she does-- he’d heard she’s fresh out of the academy. Hasn’t had any time to let the world tint her idealism into something darker, yet. He doesn’t want to be the one to break it to her. Another long sigh rolls out of him as he turns to watch the walls of their base camp. “There’s something you need to understand about Lombardi.” He stops, there, and when he glances back at her he can see her eyes trained on the side of his face. “He’s gotten away with a lot of shit. He’s been allowed to get away with a lot of shit. And you’re a threat to that-- a threat to him.”

          “Good--” she sneers.

     “Bad,” he replies, cutting her off. “Because do you know what Lombardi does to people that threaten him? He eliminates the threat. Like he was trained to do.” She draws away, and he can see he’s losing her, so he gestures out to the camp. “I’m not saying do nothing. You can report him to our superiors until you’re blue in the face. I’m just telling you now, it’s not likely they’ll do anything. We’re a black operation unit, and we… unofficially play by different rules. But if you keep running your mouth off to him, he’s going to start thinking maybe you’ll actually get something done.” A pause, for effect. Her eyes are almost, almost wide. “And then he’ll just make you disappear.”

          The blonde’s jaw is so tight he could almost swear he can hear her teeth grinding. “He can try.”

     “He can succeed. That prick has been here for fifteen years, and if we’re unlucky he’ll be here for fifteen more.” Tahan is agitated, he’s already burned through the entirety of his cigarette. He puts the butt out against the bottom of his boot, and tucks it back into the pack, unwilling to start another. “I’m not saying do nothing. I’m saying keep quiet about it until you’re far the fuck away from here. You understand?”

          Her eyes, her face is grim. She nods, finally. He turns away before he can determine if she means to actually follow his advice or not.

     ii. 2016

     Her mouth runs just as hot in Verona as it did in the desert two years ago, he thinks with no small amount of amusement. The leaves are starting to turn on the trees, and a cold wind creeps in between the cramped, ancient buildings of the city. Every time he sees her, she looks like she’s bundled for arctic weather, and she undoubtedly notices how drawn he looks, the faint tremble to his fingers. He feels half-mad, some days, mourning something he’ll never be able to put words to, all the things and the days he’s buried deep. She calls him, maybe once a week, and he tries to be good company.

     The days pass in anniversaries, marked permanently in his mind. One year since Rana slipped headfirst into that ditch. One year since Rossi pulled that bullet out of that corpse for evidence. One year since, once year since, one year si--

     His phone is ringing. He’d forgotten it was ringing when he saw who it was that was calling him, staring at the screen until it rang out to voicemail. She’s calling him again. Battista wonders what’s got her… what, concerned? Angry? Enough to call him twice in a row. He answers.

     Katarina DuPont’s voice rings tinnily on the line. “Oh, good. You’re alive.” Her voice is almost totally flat, like she’s pissed she felt like she had to call again. He stares out over the Adige, sluggishly moving along.

          “Don’t sound so excited about it,” is his dry answer. “Did you need something?”

     The line is silent for a minute. He thinks about sinking into the cold water in October of 2009, getting dragged out by the strap of his rifle. The shock that had come after. Leans against the railing, and peers down into the muddy brown river below. Her voice startles him out of his reverie. “No, I don’t need anything, you-- Have you eaten anything today?”

     Battista’s brows shoot up on his forehead, and he allows it because there’s nobody around to see. He leans his chin on his hand, his elbow resting against cold stone and supporting most of his weight. It takes him a moment to think. Has he? He can hardly remember, it seems. He doesn’t think so. His hands feel a little weak, he’s tired. “Yes,” he responds softly. The water churning below looks cold. He pulls away from the edge and starts walking away. “Did you call just to ask me if I’d eaten anything?”

          “No.” Katarina’s voice… he can tell the amusement in his question rankled her, in some way or another. “Do you need anything?”

     He wonders when she’s going to work up to asking if he’s been taking his meds-- probably soon. She’s not one to mince words. He lifts a hand to wipe the half-smile off his face and pauses, wondering if the faint smudge of crusted blood under his nails is real or imagined. Looking away from his hand won’t keep him from obsessing, but it will keep him from seeing.

     Does he need anything? He doesn’t know. He can’t stop thinking about Rossi, the Captain. That whole mess. He can’t stop thinking about the heroin, or the pink jacket. He can’t stop thinking about how Bianchi had leaned so close to him, his grip hard enough to bruise his collarbone, and the acid that had poured out of his mouth. And perhaps this is all loyalty will ever buy him, in a world so deprived of goodness and warmth and light. A world deprived of love. It buys him pain. In the night, in the day. A great screaming void. Death at his master’s door.

     For a moment, a mad moment, he lets himself feel a spark of… of something. Maybe he wants more than that. Maybe he wants justice. Maybe he thinks she can help, or offer advice, or maybe he just wants to talk about it. So he opens his mouth, and his voice is raspy when it rolls out of him, like he’s parched. “Have you ever heard of--” Bianchi, he doesn’t finish the sentence. She may have met him in Libya, might even remember him. But he doesn’t know how, or perhaps can’t, ask for help. The two extremes: she won’t care at all. He didn’t know her two years ago, and he hardly knows her now, except for the fact that she feels obligated to reach out to him occasionally. Or she could get herself killed, looking into it. He’s not sure he could articulate how dangerous it is. He’s pretty sure he could never choke out all of what happened, either. “Never mind,” he finishes, softer than before. Battista glances around and finds he’s back at the river, and this time when he turns his back on it, he tells himself it’s for good. “I don’t need anything, DuPont. Listen, I have to go.” There’s a long silence on her end, and he adds, “I’ll talk to you later.”

          Apparently that’s enough of a promise for her. At her loaded “Goodbye, then,” he snaps the phone shut, and slips it into his pocket.

[trvelyans-archive]

morning

a commission for @sexysideoftheforce as a gift to @thecosmicsleep ft. their sidesteps flynn and auburn on christmas day slash flynn’s birthday !!! thank you for commissioning me andy, and i hope both of you enjoy <3

---

Auburn has a key to Flynn’s apartment that he gave them a couple months ago, and somehow he always seems to forget that they have it.

They sneak in early Christmas morning with a bag full of groceries. The sun has barely even risen by the time they finish unloading the food onto one of the shitty counters in Flynn’s kitchen (after flicking on the overhead lights so they can actually see, of course) and turning on the electric kettle to warm up water for the hot chocolate. Besides that (and the whipped cream and the chocolate chips they’re going to top it off with), there’s a small carton of eggnog, a couple of chocolate bars, half of a chocolate cake with a pack of birthday candles and a can of cinnamon rolls that they’re already beginning to dread picking up since they know Flynn isn’t going to do any of the work to make them.

Not if they don’t wake him up, first, he’s not.

They sigh softly, running a hand through their hair while they kick their shoes off near the front door. Los Diablos isn’t cold by anyone else’s standards in the winter, but Burns is sensitive, not to mention small, and anything below 20 degrees is considered the fucking Arctic for them. So they grab one of the blankets from Flynn’s couch and wrap it around their shoulders, perfectly aware that he’s probably going to make it weird or make fun of them for it but deciding not to give a shit.

Right now, at least. They’ll see how it goes first and decide whether or not he’s being annoying enough about it to smother him with the blanket later.

They pad down the hallway and slowly open the door to his bedroom. The curtains are drawn shut – not that there’s any light to keep out right now, anyway – and they can barely see him, even with the light flooding through the apartment from the fluorescents in the kitchen. Auburn shuts the door behind them, softly, deciding to give Flynn a little more rest. Despite that, though, they cross the room and stand at the foot of the bed, folding their arms over their chest and thinking.

He’s always warm, and they’re freezing, shivering from head to toe even with the blanket draped over their shoulders. They deserve cuddles for the full-course meal they’re about to spend hours preparing for him. Well, an hour, maybe. Forty-five minutes if they make it quick and poorly.

Still, it’s the thought that counts, and all of the thinking they did about this morning tired them right the hell out, so they deserve to crawl into bed with him and get warm and snuggly, don’t they? Even if it’s just for a couple minutes. Even if he isn’t exactly awake. He’s stirring, though, or starting to, at least. He’ll be awake soon.

And he wouldn’t mind. He gave them a key to his apartment, after all. He should expect them to do stuff like this. Besides, it’s not the first time one of them has surprised the other in the middle of the night just to lie in bed together. Sometimes just to talk.

Sometimes just to be in close proximity to the only person who really knows who you are and decides to let you stay. That last thing is about as close as Flynn’s going to get to a birthday-slash-Christmas present today, anyway. (Besides the cake. And the cinnamon buns. What a lucky bastard.)

Burns peels the covers back and rests their knee on the mattress while they untangle themselves and their hair from the blanket, tossing it onto the ground beside the bed. The clock on the bedside table is just bright enough that, when they tilt it a couple of inches to the left, it illuminates Flynn’s sleeping face in a soft red glow that tugs at Burns’s makeshift heartstrings. He can be so disgustingly cute sometimes, Flynn, especially when he’s wearing the stupid rainbow print sweater Burns can somehow make out in the darkness that he insists is cute, too, even though it isn’t anyway. They lift their other leg into the bed, kick the clock so it faces the other direction, and start to lay down beside him slowly in the hopes that it doesn’t startle him too much and wake him up. They’ve just barely leaned their head against his shoulder, however, when he grows suddenly rigid and they realize with disappointment and mild fear that it startled him anyway, and he’s about to wake up.

Great.

They can’t see him but they imagine his bright blue eyes flying open as he lets out a shuddering gasp, immediately pushing them away from him – still gently, though, gently enough that he must know it’s not an enemy – and leaping across the bed so fast it creaks a complaint in response to the sudden shift of weight. “Who the fuck –“

“It’s me,” Burns says.

Flynn is silent for a moment before he begins to stammer. “Burns? Wh-what are you doing?”

“Well, I was going to try and cuddle without waking you up before I started breakfast because I’m tired as fuck, but turns out you had to go and ruin that, didn’t you?”

“I –“

“I’m kidding,” they add with a smile, crawling across the bed to where they guess he is and reaching up to try and find his face. “I’m just teasing you. It’s my favourite pastime. Happy birthday, by the way. And Merry Christmas.”

He’s probably still surprised, but he leans down to kiss them back, anyway, wrapping his arms around their waist and beginning to pull them into his lap before they fend him off with a laugh.

He should not be so trusting, in them or in anyone, but they’re glad that he is. It gives them an excuse to make a whole meal this morning they’re going to get to eat when otherwise they’d be lying in bed without sleeping.

“You can go back to sleep if you want,” they say as they pull away, patting his cheek fondly as they unfold themselves from the bed and slide off it. “I have to go get started on breakfast.”

“Mmm… breakfast?” he repeats sleepily, and thankfully he’s beginning to act like his normal self now that he’s waking up. “What’re you making?”

“You’ll have to come to the kitchen and see,” they reply over their shoulder, pulling the door open and stepping into the hall.

“Yeah right,” Flynn scoffs. Burns can hear the soft thwump of the covers as he falls back down on the bed. “You’re just going to force me to make it, then.”

“Fair point,” they reply. “You’re going to have to come out if you want cake, though.”

He laughs. “Cake?” he asks. “At 7 a.m.?”

Just thinking about the cake sitting on the counter in the kitchen makes Burns lick their lips. It looks so good, and also took an insane amount of restraint for them not to tear into on the bus this morning. “What, are you too good for cake at 7 a.m.?”

“I didn’t say that,” he replies, and Burns laughs. “Gimme half an hour, though… I wanna sleep in a little longer.”

“Ooooo-kay,” Burns says. “Don’t blame me if all the cinnamon buns are gone when you get here, though!”

They can hear a muffled ‘hey!’ through the wall as they shut the door, but head off towards the kitchen anyway, a determined smile on their face.

An hour later, after they’ve changed into their hideous holiday sweaters and pulled on their stupid elf hats, Burns and Flynn are draped across his couch watching the news, limbs entangled so closely and so much that neither are sure where one of them ends and the other begins but neither of them are too offended by it to care. Occasionally Flynn stops eating to nudge Burns’s shoulder and feed them a piece of his cinnamon bun dripping with an absurd amount of icing that he pulled off just to make a mess of their shared blanket, and occasionally Burns stops to shove a forkful of chocolate cake into Flynn’s mouth and purposefully miss so it smears around the outside of his lips, but otherwise they eat in silence, both of them too tired to make conversation but enjoying each other’s company like always.

They’re both going to be due for a nap after this.

They can hear people in the apartments around them making more noise the later in the day it becomes. They’re probably unwrapping presents and baking cinnamon buns of their own, or maybe they’re eating pancakes or waffles or eggs or something else that is much more lame than Burns and Flynn’s breakfast, and still Burns stops after a while to look up at Flynn and notices he looks a little sad.

Not that that’s out of the ordinary for him, but still.

“Hey,” they say, taking his plate and their own and placing them on the coffee table so they can climb into his lap, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies, nodding, forcing a smile as he reaches up to run his hand through his hair. “I’m just thinking.”

“About how good my breakfast was?” Burns asks, and Flynn chuckles.

“Yeah,” he says as he rests his hands against their hips, “duh.”

They reach up to lay a hand against his cheek, tugging on it gently until he starts to smile for real. “Are you sure you’re okay?” they ask.

“Yes,” he says with a laugh, and they lean forward to kiss the end of his nose.

“Good,” they reply. “It’s your birthday, after all. I don’t want you feeling sad on your birthday or anything.”

“No, of course not,” Flynn responds. “Don��t want that.”

“Definitely not.” Burns twines their arms around Flynn’s neck and leans forward until they can lean their forehead against his, ghosting their lips over his cheek. “Seriously, though, did you like breakfast?”

“Absolutely,” he replies. “You know what would make it better, though?”

They pull away to look at him curiously. “What?”

He gives them a grin. “If we went back to bed.”

“Today would be better for me if you took that sweater off.”

“Hey!” Flynn steals a kiss from Burns’s pursed lips as he starts to chuckle. “You bought it for me.”

“Because you wanted that horrible sweater to look like a candy-cane so you could ask me to lick you which you have done several times already and I’ve said yes every time only for you to say no, that you’re just kidding, or that we should save it until we’re back in your bedroom because you don’t want to get any chocolate cake on...”

They point down to his lap and he laughs, kissing them again, wrapping his arms tight around their waist. “Let’s go to the bedroom, then, maybe?”

They don’t say anything else and abandon the plates on the coffee table as they go back to Flynn’s bedroom, sliding the curtains open to give themselves a little light to see while they settle underneath the blankets. They don’t end up doing anything more than that just yet, though – instead Flynn just snuggles against Burns’s chest and starts to drift off again. They can’t blame him, though. They’re looking forward to sleeping again, too, especially after slaving away in the kitchen all morning. Before either of them can, though, they tug on his bright pink hair to get his attention, and he looks up at them through half-lidded eyes.

“Mmm?”

“Did you have a good birthday?” they ask, brushing their fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah, I did,” he replies, smiling. “Thank you, sugarplum.”

They laugh and bat his shoulder. “You’re welcome,” they say.

“Did you have a good Christmas?” Flynn asks.

“Yeah,” Burns responds. “I did.”

“Good,” he says, burying his face into their chest again. That’s the last from him they hear for a while – besides the snoring a couple minutes later, of course.

[icyhobi]

Angel in the Darkness (M) pt.3

Summary: After a patient urgently pleads you to go and help a friend of his, you naively agree to it. Little did you know, that you would get more than what you agreed to, when he leads you to a brothel, to help a dangerous prostitute named Jeon Jungkook.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (ft. Jin, but not romantically)

Genre: Smut (M), angst, mafia!au, prostitution!au

Word Count: 5,997

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 (final chapter) 

~~~~~

I can’t believe I’m doing this again, you think to yourself. You close your eyes, and listen to the engine of the crowded bus, as you were currently on your way to pay mister ‘Kookie’ a visit. You start to slowly replay the scenes of Jin yelling at you, to desperately go back and meet the prostitute…

“Well he didn’t really listen to me either! If anything, he’ll listen more to you than me,” you exclaim.

Jin lets out a deep sigh while regretfully saying, “No, he won’t…”

“Why?”

“Because… he hates me.”

You sit in the chair in front of him, with a dumbfounded look on your face. What did he mean by ‘hates him’? You assumed the man named ‘Kookie’, was a good friend of Jin’s. Thus, it would make sense as to why he would want to try and help him. But now, you were just completely lost as to what was happening.

You look at Jin, and see that he has a guilty look on his face. You lick your dry lips, and question “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t even bother to look into your eyes as he sighs, “We had a lot of history together. Some were good memories, and some were bad, but you don’t need to know the small details.” He looks up at you, and notices the unsure expression on your face, so he continues “Y/n, I know I’m asking a lot from you, but please, I beg you, just please see him again. I need him to trust you, I need to help him.”

The look on Jin’s face has never looked so serious before, and your heart jumped when he stared into your eyes. For a split second, he reminded you of the said prostitute you were supposed to help, which made you feel uneasy.

Shaking the thoughts away, you try to be as reasonable as possible, “Jin, I would love to help, but I don’t even know what I’m doing!”. This ‘Kookie’ was a prostitute, meaning the only way you could actually speak to him privately, is to make him assume you’re a client paying for sex. But you didn’t want that! And how the hell were you even suppose to get a complete stranger to randomly trust you?!? Your last encounter with him, didn’t end so nicely, so it would be even more awkward trying to talk to him again. “I don’t think you understand, I’m a stranger to him. How do you expect me to make him open up, and completely trust me, in such little time?”

Jin just lets out a small smirk, as he knows you’re about to object to his next request, “That’s why you’re gonna take next week off, and go every single day to that brothel.”

WHAT!?!?! “I most definitely cannot do that! Besides work, I also have school an-”

“You can just watch some of your lectures online later, I know they have a web option for students who can’t make it to class.” Jin interrupts you. He then continues “And besides, I know you deserve a bit of a break from working and studying.”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh at his statement, “Take a break, so I can do you a favour? Wow, how considerate of you Jin.”

He laughs at your sarcasm, then questions “So, will you do it?”

You let out a quiet sigh. Even though taking a week off from your hectic schedule was tempting, you were scared to go back. You had a gut feeling that there was a lot more to this ‘Kookie’ that Jin was hiding from you; and you didn’t know if it was bad or good. You were sure Jin wouldn’t make you do anything that would put you in danger, right? So why were you still so nervous about going to see him again? “I’ll do it, but on one condition.”

“And what is that,” he asks you curiously.

You look him seriously in the eyes and say, “That you’ll tell me everything. No more secrets. Is that a deal?”

He grits his teeth, but manages to still hold a poker face, “Deal.”

~~~~~

You open your eyes as you hear the next stop was the one you needed to get off from. You pull the yellow cord on the window, to request for a stop. You then get up and shuffle your way through the crowded bodies to reach the door. The bus pulls over and stops, and you get off saying a quick thanks to the driver.

Unlike last time, it was rather cloudy today with a cool breeze. You were thankful you brought your light jacket with you, or else you would have froze in your plain, pastel pink shirt. You reach into the back pocket of your black jeans, and bring out your phone for directions to the brothel again. Here goes nothing.

“I would like to request for Kookie,” you say with a confident voice, to the lady at the front desk. You notice that it’s a different girl this time, as she looked a bit older and her cleavage looked like it would pop out from her tiny tube top.

“Who wouldn’t wanna request for that hunk,” the receptionist says with a smirk.

Even his own co-workers fantasize about him… wow.

“He’s actually with a client right now, so you’ll have to wait.”

Biting your lip, you ask “Do you know how long it will be?”

The woman furrows her eyebrows, and looks at her computer screen. She then turns back at you, “The customer paid for two hours with him. Its only been about 40 minutes. Are you okay with waiting another 80 minutes?”

80 minutes?!? That’s practically an hour an a half! What were you suppose to do with all that free time? There was no way you were going go back out into the streets; a woman like you walking by herself in a red light district? That was a big no. It could be dangerous. So, having no other choice, you decide to just stay and wait here. “Yea, I’m alright with that” you say with a fake smile.

You gave her the membership card Jin had originally given you, and her eyes widen in surprise. She looks you over, and narrows her eyes at your appearance. “You didn’t steal this, did you?”

Your shocked at her question, why the hell would you steal something? “Uhh no, why would I?”

“This is a VIP card, and no offense but you don’t look like you could afford this.”

What the hell? Rude much! You were slightly insulted that she thought so poorly of you, but you still manage to hold a smile while telling her “It was a gift from a friend.”

She raises her thick drawn on eyebrows, and mocks “Oh, must be so nice to have rich friends.”

Before you can retort, she scans your card, and hands it back to you. She has an unamused look on her pretty face as she points over to an empty booth in the corner, “Alright, so you can wait over there until your appointment, or you’re free to go out, and come back when the appointment starts.”

“Okay thank you,” you reply as you head over to the dimly lit booth. You sit down, and look around the place, and see that there are quite a few other booths, but filled with people dressed in suits and dresses. They all have drinks in their hands, as the half-dressed waiters/waitresses flirt with them. You feel a bit embarrassed as you probably should have opted to dress more professionally like last time, as this was a very luxurious brothel.

You think back to the advice Jin told you; to ask out ‘Kookie’ for coffee with you, when he wasn’t working. This way you could genuinely have a decent conversation with him, without him trying to flirt with you. But how were you suppose to bring it up in the first place? You couldn’t just bluntly ask him; he was paid to have sex, not to go out and have coffee. Ughhh.

You pull out your phone, searching for something to kill time, as this was gonna be a long wait…

~~~~~

“Ughh” Jungkook grunts with one final thrust. He then pulls out, and removes the soiled condom, throwing it into the trash.

“That was so amazing Kookie, you never disappoint me,” the older women compliments.

Jungkook goes to put his clothes back on, paying little attention to the naked women on his bed. As he finishes putting his shirt over his head, he turns to lifelessly look at her. “Yea thanks, now get the fuck out of here.”

She snickers at him, “Hmmm, why are you in such a rush to remove me?”

He just sighs in tiredness. He honestly hated dealing with woman. She was a regular of his, but she was so demanding, and had a mommy kink, making him want to choke her to death. Any other client, he wouldn’t be so rude too, but she kept visiting him so many times, that he could care less about the ‘respect your clients’ rule. She was the wife of some rich CEO, meaning she could afford to have sex with Jungkook many times, which he greatly dreaded. She was insanely attractive, but had a horrible personality and attitude, most likely due to her neglecting husband.

“The session is done Hyori. The two hours are already up,” he replies with an annoyed tone.

“Really? I didn’t even notice. Time flies by so quickly when I’m with you,” she says seductively.

Jungkook wasn’t having any of it. This two hour session of just having pure sex, was so exhausting, especially due to Hyori’s crazy demands. “Yea whatever, just get the fuck out of my room already. I have other clients.”

The attractive woman sneers at him and his uncooperativeness, but gets up and puts on her clothes. She then goes to her purse, and pulls out $500, and walks over to Jungkook. He has a questioning look on his face, but she just bites her red lips, then stuffs the money into his front pockets.

“Just a little tip, for my baby boy,” she purrs at him. She winks, then walks behind him to squeeze his ass one last time, before she exits.

Even though he was tempted to break her arm for grabbing his butt, he pulls out the cash from his pocket with a smirk. That skank always tips so good.

A firm shake on your shoulder jolts you up from your nap. A bit confused, you look up to see the rude receptionist glaring at you.

“Miss, your session is just about to start. You’re lucky I was feeling generous to wake you.”

Oh. Did I fall asleep? I only meant to put my phone down for a couple of minutes, not doze off. “Oh, I’m sorry about that. But thank you so much for reminding me.”

She rolls her eyes as she turns to leave. “No problem, he’s in room 10.”

You get up and walk down the bright halls, till you reach his room number. Taking a big gulp, you courageously knock on his door again. You hear some shuffling in the room, before the door unlocks and opens, revealing the devilishly handsome man.

His black hair is a mess, and you can see his collarbone popping out from under his white shirt; littered with hickies. His eyes are widened in surprise, but he then quickly lets out a smirk.

“I didn’t expect to see you come back so soon.”

“Uhh well, I j-just wanted to check on you,” you stammer. Great, and now the stuttering starts. Why am I always so nervous around him!?

His smirk gets even wider, and he grabs you by your arm, pulling you into his room. He locks the door, then turns to face you. “Ohhh, you were worried about me? How sweet,” he soothes.

You’re awkwardly standing in the middle of his room, when you notice he starts walking towards you with predatory eyes. Oh shit! I don’t need a repeat of last time!

“Yes, I’ve just been feeling really bad about what happened last week. So I wanted to see if you were okay, and make it up to you,” you manage to say with a controlled voice.

What? He stops half a metre infront of you, while he raises his eyebrows in curiosity. “Make it up to me?”

Alright Y/n, you got this! Just smoothly ask him! “Y-yea! I w-wanted to take you out for some coffee or something…” you squeak. What the hell was that? So much for trying to be smooth! Ughh! You were really regretting not dating now, as you couldn’t even look this man in the eyes to ask for coffee.

Jungkook was honestly surprised at your request. He didn’t expect to see your pretty face again, but it looked like that fate for once was in his favour. He see’s you shy away from his gaze, and can’t help but laugh a bit. “Y/n, you do know which part of the city you’re in, right? There’s no decent coffee place around here.”

Oh, right… why didn’t I remember that? Unknowingly, you let out a small smile at the fact that he remembered your name. “Ohh…” you say, having no idea of what to do now.

“There are a couple of good bars though,” the man voices out.

Bars? You don’t even drink, but seeing this as an opportunity to communicate with him, you hastily agree to his idea. “That’s fine. So will you let me take you there, as an apology? I still feel bad about lying to you when we first met.”

Jungkook can easily tell that you’re hiding something from him, but he continues to play along. “You don’t have to feel bad about it, I may have overreacted a tad bit.” He can see you opening your mouth to reply, but he interrupts you, “And to answer your question, yes. I wouldn’t mind going out for a couple of drinks after this long ass day.”

You let out a bright smile, “Really? Sounds great! So when are you available?”

He scratches his head, while saying “10pm. So just meet me in the main lobby at that time.”

He doesn’t notice when your smile falters. 10pm?! It’s pitch black outside at that time! In all honesty, you were scared to walk outside in this part of the city at night. And to make matters worse; you’d have to bus it back. There was a reason as to why Jin specifically told you to avoid coming here when it gets dark. But, what if I don’t have another chance to go out with him again?

Worried that you may not get another opportunity like this, you manage to mask a smile over your fears, and say “Alright.”

He smiles at your confirmation. Little did you know, that he was still pissed at you for trying to trick him. But there was also something that wasn’t right about you, he just couldn’t pinpoint what it was. It was evident to him that the first time you met, you were more interested in getting to know him, rather than having sex with him. Besides that, there was no good reason as to why you would try to lie about your age, which raised his suspicions highly. If she’s working for them, that would make sense as to why she lied. They’re the only ones who know why I would listen to someone much older. Regardless, once you got to the bar, he planned to find out the truth.

He looked at the clock on the wall, and realizes that your session is over in 10 minutes. “Alright, so I need a couple of extra minutes to get ready for my next client, so if you wouldn’t mind...”

You realize what he’s implying, and nod your head, “Ohh, sure no problem! I’ll see you at 10 then!”

You then start heading towards the door, before he calls you, “And Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“My real name is Jungkook,” he smirks with a wink.

~~~~~

You’re abruptly woken up, to the sound of the loud alarm on your phone. You check the time, and see that it’s 9:55pm, meaning that Jungkook should be here anytime soon. When you left his room, it was only 5pm, so you decided to just stay in the lobby at the unoccupied booth again. You were a bit tired, so you set an alarm, just in case if you were to fall asleep. Thank god I did that.

You hear someone clear their throat while tapping you on the shoulder. You look up, and see that it’s the busty receptionist again, only that she looks way angrier.

“Excuse me miss, but you can’t just sleep around here. And the loud alarm on your phone was extremely distracting.”

You gulp, but manage to state, “Oh sorry about that! I was actually just waiting for someone.” You were slightly embarrassed that you had dozed off again, especially since it’s the second time this lady had to call you out on it.

“And who the hell are you waiting for, miss?” she asks while glaring daggers at you.

You shrink under her scary scowl, but before you can reply, you hear the husky voice of the said person. “Relax Chaerin, she’s with me.”

You look around her, to see Jungkook come into view, looking impossibly attractive. You start to sweat, as you glance over his attire; his black hair was parted and had a slight wave, he had on a black dress shirt that was unbuttoned, ripped black skinny jeans with black combat boots, and a gold rolex on his left wrist. But what made you blush furiously, was that under his unbuttoned dress shirt, he wore a black top, that was see through, almost as if it was fishnet stockings. You could see his toned muscular stomach, but as your eyes travelled upwards, you could see a silver bar, run through his left nipple. OH MY DEAR LORD, PLEAVE GIVE ME THE STRENGTH…

Jungkook smirked, as he saw you redden at his appearance. “Well c’mon sweetheart, lets go get a drink,” he teases.

Don’t look at the piercing, don’t look at the piercing… oh my god, just focus on his face. His very attractive face… You were struggling to keep your composure in front of this sinful looking man, but you mouth a quiet ok, and get up from the chair, then let Jungkook lead you outside.

Chaerin, the receptionist, stares at you and Jungkook leaving, and bites her lip in jealously. “Lucky bitch.”

It shouldn’t have been a shock to you when you saw his shiny silver Cadillac. It made perfect sense, with the amount of income he earns. Damn, he must be loaded. Like $1000 per hour with him? And that doesn’t even included tips, wow.

Jungkook smirks at your gapping mouth as he gets into the driver’s seat. “Are you just gonna stand there looking like a fish? Or are you gonna get in?” he teases from inside.

You blush at his remark, but open the passenger’s door, and plop down quickly into the leather seating. You quickly buckle your seatbelt in, as your nerves start to activate. Why am I always so nervous with him?

Jungkook buckles in his seatbelt, then starts the engine. He turns to look at you, and hastily says “The bar we’re going to is about a 10-minute drive from here, and trust me, its one of my favourites. Is that good with you?” He sees you nod your head in confirmation, and with that, he blasts up the stereo system, and speeds off.

~~~~~

The car ride was mostly silent, aside from the heavy base of the music that was playing. Jungkook had one hand on the wheel most of the time, and you could see the muscles and veins strain in his arm, as he rolled up his sleeves. You try to control your breathing, as you were just so nervous around this delicious looking man, so you decide to look elsewhere. You turn to look at the back seats, but then you spot something there; a lacy red thong. You can’t help but blush even more, thinking of this fine man just pounding into faceless women in the back seat. But something worried you when you felt it; the small twinge of jealousy. Oh my god! What am I thinking??! He has sex for a living, why am I feeling this way?

The car pulls to a stop, in the parking lot of a brightly lit and loud building. The engine turns off, and Jungkook unbuckles his seat belt. “Alright, we’re here,” he says with an excited voice.

You both get out of the car, and Jungkook leads the way to the building. You hear the ‘beep’ of his car when he locks it, and you trail closely behind him, scared of being lost. As you near the entrance, you can’t help but get confused; this place looked more like some busy club, rather than a bar.

“Jungkook? I thought we were going to a bar…” you quietly question.

He laughs at your small voice, then wraps his right arm around your waist. He fells you stiffen, and a small smirk graces his lips. “Well it is one. I mean, there is a bar inside of the club.”

“Ohh…” you say with a pout. You absolutely hated going to clubs, it just wasn’t your thing. So you were a little irritated that he didn’t mention you were going to one. You look down at your appearance, and cringe when you realize you aren’t really dressed for clubbing.

Jungkook notices your hesitancy, then gives your waist a bit of a squeeze. “Y/n you don’t have to worry, you look fine. Just stay close to me, alright?”

“O-okay.”

You two reach the entrance to the club, and can see there’s a huge lineup to get in. You groan involuntary to yourself, but Jungkook just leads you to the front doors, ignoring all the people behind. The bouncer gives one look at him, and Jungkook grips your waist tighter in emphasis, “She’s with me.”

To your shock, the bouncer lets the two of you in, free of charge with no waiting. You look around at the interior of the club; it was dimly lit, with neon bluish lighting everywhere. There was a big dancefloor, to which it was currently packed with grinding bodies.

Jungkook leads you to the bar table on the far left, and you both take a seat beside each other.

The bartender comes in with a charming smile. “What can I get you two?”

“I’ll just have a cup of beer.” Jungkook then turns to you with a questioning look in his eyes while he asks, “And Y/n?”

“U-uhh, maybe a glass of water?”

Both him and the bartender stare at you like you’ve grown another head. “Actually, she’ll have a Blue Hawaiian,” The bartender mouths an okay, and goes to prepare your drinks.

What the hell? “Jungkook, I don’t drink alcohol.” you tell him.

He just glares at you, “Well, I don’t care if you don’t like it.”

Huh? “U-uhh… what?” you stutter nervously.

He sighs, then scoots his chair closer to you, till your thighs are touching. Your heartbeat quickens, when he leans closer to you, and you can smell his intoxicating cologne again. “Y/n, you’re in the Red-Light district. If people see a pretty girl like you, sipping on water, they’ll see you as easy prey.”

What? What does he mean? See me as prey? “I d-don’t think I understand…” you stammer.

He gently puts his large left hand on your right thigh, making you feel hot all over. “There’s bad people here Y/n, some that will try to take advantage of you in the worst possible way.”

Before he can continue, the bartender comes in with a grin, and places both of your drinks in front of the two of you. “Enjoy,” the man says, then leaves to serve others.

Jungkook grabs his beer, then places your blue looking drink in your hands. He has a stern look in his face, when he commands you, “Drink it.”

You stare at the cool drink, and hesitate. I don’t even like drinking, it leads to poor choices. It is never a good option.

“If you don’t at least drink a little bit of it, then I’ll spread your lips myself, and force it down.”

WHAT?!?!

“But I mean, maybe you’d like that…” he purrs against your ear.

You’re positive your face is bright red, so you nervously lift the glass to your lips, to drink some of the cool blue substance. You cringe a bit at the small burn in your throat, but otherwise, it didn’t taste so bad. It had a similar flavour to pineapple juice, or some other tropical fruit drink.

Jungkook grins at your obedience, and squeezes your thigh. “Good girl,” he coo’s in your ear. He wasn’t lying to you about how people would try to come onto to you, but he also purposely wanted to try to get you a bit tipsy, so he could ask what your real purpose of meeting him was. He still didn’t trust you, but to be fair, he didn’t really trust anyone anymore. He’s been deceived and used so much in the past, that he has built barriers to ever trusting someone again.

“So Y/n, why did you really want to meet me?”

“Hmmm? What do you mean?” you slur. Am I really starting to get drunk from a couple of sips? You look down at your drink, and realize that It was already more than half way done. What the hell? I didn’t drink that much of it already, did I?

Jungkook side eyes you, while he takes a sip from his beer. “I’m not an idiot, so I could tell, even when you first met me, you never came for the intention of having sex.”

Oh no, this doesn’t sound good. I feel like he knows… “W-what?” you stutter.

“Tch, ohh Y/n, haven’t you already learned? It’s impossible to fool me, so tell me the truth,” he says bitterly.

What’s happening? Why is he so hostile all of a sudden? “I… I d-don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He grits his teeth while moving closer to you, to growl in your ear, “Don’t you fucking lie to me, Y/n. You purposely tried to avoid all my advances that first time, and it wasn’t because you were shy, you just had no interest. You wanted to know more personally about me, why is that?”

You couldn’t think straight, as the alcohol had started to take an affect on you. You look down at the drink, and want to curse when you realize that you had consumed all of it. I don’t even remember drinking all of it! What the fuck? Your breathing becomes uneven, and your palms were starting to sweat, as you didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t tell him the truth about Jin sending you there, that was for sure. But your mind was so fogged up that you couldn’t even think of a proper lie, to get out of this situation.

Jungkook impatiently squeezes your thigh harder, making you squeak. “Tell me the truth right now, and I promise I won’t hurt you. If you don’t, I’ll beat it out of you, then I’ll leave you for dead.” He pauses, then lets out a sinister smirk, then whispers, “Or maybe, after beating you, I’ll just leave you on the streets, for all the demons to come and toy with you. Understand?”

Your eyes widen at his threat, and you’ve never felt so terrified of him till now. Who was this man? Is he really only a prostitute?!? Why would Jin send you to someone who sounded so dangerous?!? You take a gulp, that was lodged in your throat, then quietly speak, “O-okay, I understand.”

Jungkook releases some of the pressure from his hold on you thigh, to which you let out a tiny sigh. “Good girl. Now tell me, do you work for m-”

“Oh my god, Kookie Is that you!?” you hear a high pitched squeal of excitement.

You notice Jungkook’s threatening expression, change to an annoyed one. He turns around to see a woman dressed in a skin tight, red mini dress, with 5-inch white stiletto heels. He groans, “What do you want Hyuna?”

She giggles, and then walks to him, boldly putting her hand on his covered crotch. She then takes out a wad of cash, stuffs it inside his pants, while rubbing his member, completely ignoring your presence. “It’s been so long since you’ve played with Noona, why don’t we go have a little fun,” she purrs at him.

Your face feels as if it is on fire at the scene in front of you, but the alcohol in your system doesn’t allow you to turn away, only gawk at them. The worst part was that, Jungkook, didn’t even take his eyes off of you, he just watched your reaction.

You find the courage to speak up at her, “Excuse me miss, but I think we’re kinda busy right now…”

She narrows her eyes, then finally turns to look at you. She laughs, “Oh, I see. Unless you’d prefer staying with this plain Jane, rather than have some real fun with me. I don’t mind,” she mocks.

Usually insults don’t faze you that much, especially since some patients would throw them on the daily, but right now, you felt humiliated at her remark. You could feel your tempter starting to rise slowly, which you blamed on the alcohol.

Jungkook on the other hand, was intrigued by your reaction. You were always so shy and polite around him, but when he saw your eyes flare with anger and a hint of jealousy, he was highly curious. If you did work for the person he was thinking about, then why would you get so upset at some random chick rubbing his dick? Why wouldn’t you just take him by force, instead of trying to talk with him? He was now extremely confused on who you were, maybe his suspicions were completely wrong. He saw how your grip on the cup tightened, and then an idea popped into his mind.

“Actually Hyuna, I think me and her are done talking,” and then he grips her wrist, and stands up.

What? He can’t be serious! Where the hell is he going? “Wait! Jungkook! Where are you going?” you screech out to him, as you grip his arm. What happened to him threating me? Was he just joking? What the hell is going on?

Jungkook trys to look unfazed from the tingle of your hand on his arm; it was the first time you actually initiated physical contact with him. “Have fun by yourself, Y/n. Just forget about what I said, and never show your face to me again.” He honestly didn’t want to deal with someone who could potentially cause him harm. He knew, that if you did work for ‘them’, he should kill you on the spot, but he was still so confused. What if you really were just a random innocent girl? And the more he looked into your pleading eyes, the more harder it was becoming to the thought of having to kill you. So just to play it safe, he chose to never see you again, and let you go free from the darkness.

What? No! He can’t leave me here! I still need to talk to him, for Jin! “Please! Just wait, let me expla-”

“Listen here you desperate slut,” Hyuna interrupts you. “He’s not into you, okay? So piss off…” and then she yanks your hand off of Jungkook’s arm aggressively, and leaves with him.

~~~~~

You were sitting at an empty booth in the club. It had been about an hour since Jungkook left you, to go hook up with Hyuna. You sat there apprehensively, not knowing what to do. It wasn’t like you could just go home; you didn’t know how to find the bus stop from here, and it was nighttime, thus adding fear to even walking by yourself in this area. You would have called Jessica, or even Jin, but your phone was dead since you used it too much, when you were waiting at the brothel. Besides that, you didn’t even remember their numbers by heart, so you were just sitting there alone, with nothing to do. You tried to search for Jungkook a couple times, but you couldn’t see him anywhere, making you assume he left the club.

Even though you didn’t want to admit it, you felt great grief when he motionlessly told you he never wanted to see you again. You genuinely wanted to get to know him better. What had you done? Why did he get so aggressive with you randomly? You remember he was gonna ask you if you worked for someone, but who? That stupid Hyuna interrupted him before he could ask. Ughh.

You were still deep in thought, when you noticed two big shadows hover over you. You looked up, and saw two men who looked like they were in their mid thirties. “U-uhh, can I help you?” you ask nervously.

They just lick their dry lips in response, then the taller of the two, suddenly shoves you, till you’re laying down on your back.

You shriek, but before you can scream at them, the one on top of you, gags you by shoving a handkerchief down your throat. You try to knee him in the crotch, but the other man comes and pins down your legs with his hands.

“Now why don’t you behave, and make this easy for us, okay princess?” the one on top of you laughs. He then slowly starts to slide his sweaty hands underneath your pink shirt.

You wanted to cry and scream for help, but the gag in your mouth was making it difficult to breath. Even if you did scream, it would sound gurgled, and no one would be able to hear it over the music. Both of your arms and legs were held down by these two filthy men, so you couldn’t even fight them off.

Please someone help me! This can’t be happening! Your eyes start to water as you realize that this was reality. So the only thing you could do, was close your eyes and hope it ends quickly.

Before the man can reach the underwire of your bra, you feel him completely remove his hands, and get off of you. Your arms and legs are now free, and you silently thank god that someone listened to your prays. But your thankfulness is cut short, when you hear panicked screams. You hastily open your eyes, and take the napkin out of your mouth, then you sit up to witness the scene in front of you.

Those two men didn’t have a change of heart over their actions, they were physically thrown off of you. The one who was pinning your legs, was currently on the ground, howling in pain as he clutched his broken arm and bloody nose. You turn your vision to the left, to see that the man who originally pinned you, was tackled on the ground. Your eyes travel upward to see who your saviour was; Jungkook.

Instead of being happy that he didn’t actually leave you, you feel scared as you watch him wrap his hands around the assaulter’s neck. And even when the man stopped fighting back, and his arms dropped down lifelessly, to your horror, Jungkook continued to smile, not stopping from choking the man to death…

[archdioceseofsuva-blog]

The Archbishop versus the WB on Fiji poverty (FT 23 Feb. 2019)

Last week (Fiji Times 17 Feb. 2019), Catholic Archbishop Peter Loy Chong mounted an astonishing broad-ranging critique of the powerful international organizations, World Bank (WB) and the International Monetary Fund (IMF), alleging that their policy advice to the Bainimarama Government (and developing countries) was “anti-poor”.

Apparently, the Ministry of Education (PS Burchell) had used WB advice as part of their justification for using the Open Merit Recruiting Selection (OMRS) to appoint principals of privately owned schools.

Archbishop Chong, however, not only criticized the Bainimarama Government’s plans to privatize schools and hospitals, but with the sermons of the Catholic Pope John Paul II to guide him, saw these WB and IMF strategies to push globalization and privatization on the Third World, as being primarily in the interests of the developed corporate West, while harming the poor in developing countries.

Just as surprising, despite the serious criticisms made by this reputable and responsible Head of the Catholic Church in Fiji, there has been no public response from the Ministry of Education and the Bainimarama Government, nor from the academics of the three universities in Fiji, and none from the WB either, not surprising given their total lack of accountability to the public whose welfare they “advise” on.

Nevertheless, I would suggest that readers and in particular economics students should carefully and critically read the arguments made by Archbishop Chong, simply because the WB and IMF have such great influence over economic and social policies of Third World countries like Fiji, profoundly affecting the lives of our poor. Are Chong’s arguments all correct or should some be qualified (as I suggest below)?

Archbishop Chong’s criticisms are even more pertinent in the light of the most recent IMF Article 4 recommendations to the Bainimarama Government (Fiji Times, 20 February 2019) but that deserves a separate article.

To help students see more clearly, I summarize Archbishop Chong’s arguments into four sets of inter-related important development topics:

(a) the WB/IMF and their Structural Adjustment Programs (SAPs)

(b) the impact of globalization on the world’s poor

© the impact of the Bainimarama Government’ privatization program on Fiji’s poor, and

(d) whether WB, IMF and the Bainimarama Government are following the principles of genuine democracy in their decision-making.

I add any disagreements I may have or qualifications in italics.

The WB, IMF and the SAP

Archbishop Chong asserted that when Third World Countries cannot repay their loans from WB and IMF (and I suggest sometimes even when the capacity to repay debts is not an issue) these institutions instruct our countries to carry out Structural Adjustment Programs which include reduced government spending on essential services (like health, education, welfare), reduce taxes of high income earners, implement other market oriented policies such as privatization and globalization, and the ORMS (I doubt if this was important to the WB or IMF), all making the rich richer, and the poor poorer (I argue below, not always), thereby widening the gap between the rich and the poor (not always, I suggest).

In the process, the poor are rendered powerless, worsened by the lack of effective protection by workers’ associations.

Archbishop Chong argues that the central objective of the WB and IMF is not to alleviate poverty in the developing countries, but to advance the agenda and economic interests of the West. (I suggest below that the “west” is not an accurate category any more, given all the new Super Powers that benefit from globalization, like Japan, China and India. I also elaborate below on the “unaccountable” nature of WB and IMF).

Globalization and the poor

Archbishop Chong argues that while globalization promises that development will trickle down to the poor, that trickle down has not happened historically (I suggest below that Chong is not completely accurate); the rich have become richer and the poor have become poorer, with the gap between the rich and poor widening. Globalization is like a ship with no map headed for shipwreck (it is also not clear that this is so.)

[In some countries, the poor have become much better off even if the rich have become richer. For instance, development economists have still not caught with up the most incredible economic miracle over the last two hundred years of China using globalization and increased access to global markets to lift more than 400 million people out of poverty. Sure, the rich have got richer (there are more Chinese and Indian millionaires in the world than that from most developed countries), but their poor have also become much better off. This is so not just in China but also in places like Korea, Brazil, Malaysia and now slowly even in India, still massively plagued by abject poverty.

Of course, the gap between the rich and the poor might have increased, but it is not correct to generalize that globalization has universally “made the poor poorer” just because the gap has grown wider or the rich have got richer.

Ask the poor “would you rather stay poor while the rich remain the same” or “would you prefer to become richer, even if the rich become richer still”? Or ask poorly paid garment workers in Fiji “Would you like a poorly paid job, or no job at all”?

Whatever leftist (usually well-off) activists might recommend, we know what the poor themselves would answer to both questions.

Bainimarama Government’s Privatization Plans and the poor

Archbishop Chong argues that the Bainimarama Government’s plans to privatize the Lautoka and Ba hospitals and schools will hand over these essential services to the private sector who will put profit before service and worsen service to the poor. He correctly sees that it would be totally unfair given that taxpayers are already paying taxes precisely for these essential services for which they will pay again from private providers, without their taxes being correspondingly reduced. Chong argues that this implies that that the Bainimarama Government and politicians would be serving the WB and IMF, not the Fiji people (not necessarily so).

[It has been my experience that over the decades since Independence, succeeding Fiji governments (including the Bainimarama Government) have referred to the WB and IMF only when it has suited the government. There has been much WB/IMF advice which has been simply ignored by Fiji governments.]

Catholic teaching on genuine democracy

Chong notes that Catholic social teaching emphasizes that the human person ought to be the center of all policies not the World Bank or IMF policies.

The people must participate in the decision making, knowing full well what the decisions mean for their own welfare and to themselves as people.

All citizens must practice genuine equal relationships and genuine (not just token) solidarity with the community, for the good of the community and the planet (environment). Policies, like the ORMS, must not be imposed on the community by any government or outside agencies like the World Bank and IMF.

These arguments by Archbishop Chong go to the heart of the invidious role played by World Bank and IMF staff in developing countries like Fiji.

In the sections below, I elaborate but also qualify and disagree with some of the ideas presented by Archbishop Chong.

The Unaccountable World Bank (and IMF) Staff

Do Fiji people ever wonder where WB and IMF Teams come from, who they serve and who they are accountable to, for the advice that they give, often with grave consequences for the poor among us?

Of course, these WB and IMF persons, based in Washington or wherever are extremely intelligent and qualified professionals in their own fields. They are drawn mostly from the developed countries but increasingly from the large developing countries like India and Bangladesh. They are paid phenomenally high tax-free salaries which are many times that of the Prime Ministers or Permanent Secretaries in the countries they advise.

Most importantly, these anonymous god-like “advisers” are not accountable to the developing country people but only to their superiors in Washington, whose ideas and priorities they must propagate, if they are to look after their careers. The local people’s interests and views are not their priority.

They work on priority areas, workplans, and projects decided by their superiors in HQ, and at the times decided by their superiors. One of the tragedies for us is that these work plan priorities change over time without any correspondence to the needs of the countries to whom they deliver their “advice”.

My personal experience of WB

In the nineteen nineties I myself worked for eighteen months, as USP’s contribution to a two person team (with Australian consultant and later WB staff member Ian P. Morris), on a six Pacific country World Bank project in the field of secondary and post-secondary education, whose massive reports are in the USP Library. Morris and I had to work hard to change the WB pre-conceived idea, based on narrow rate of return analysis, that the focus of government should be on lower level basic education and not tertiary. Morris and I had argued that the Pacific countries needed graduates at all levels, and especially at the tertiary levels given the huge backlogs in training during the colonial era. Thankfully, they had agreed. At that time, the WB was far more concerned about wider development issues than the IMF.

But then the WB priorities changed and they disappeared from the education scene, I suspect leaving it in some uncoordinated fashion to ADB and Forum Secretariat for both whom I also personally did some consultancy work on basic education and technical training in the Pacific (those reports are also in the USP Library)).

Then, some five years ago, WB staff (different lot of course) reappeared in Fiji working on Fiji Bureau of Statistics household survey data, producing a technical report on poverty in Fiji. They essentially replicated the work I had been doing (with some additional “small area” estimates based on census data), but at probably fifty times the cost of my services to the FBS. Their results were pretty much the same as mine, except they were grossly wrong on the lack of changes in poverty in rural areas (I suspect because of errors in their methodology). These WB advisers never explained the discrepancies with our results and disappeared without creating any capacity in the FBS to continue the work they had been doing. The WB have never cared much about developing local capacity and sustainability of research capacity at the local universities. Why should they? There would be no need for their services if they did!

The WB never organized any national workshops of the kind that I assisted the Fiji Bureau of Statistics to conduct (with the great support of the Government Statistician then (the late) Timoci Bainimarama) or later (Epeli Waqavonovono) not just in Suva but also Labasa and Nadi, with Fiji Government departments and NGOs. They were facilitated by USP (Dean of FBE Professor Biman Prasad) and Fiji National University (Dean Dr. Mahendra Reddy and VC Dr. Ganesh Chand). These workshops truly democratized knowledge among the local communities- never a concern of WB or IMF. Sadly, such workshops are no longer conducted by the FBS.

But essentially, WB “advisers” come and go from countries like Fiji, depending on WB priorities, not ours. What is horrifying is that after giving their advice (good or bad), they never return to be accountable to the local people as are local professors of economics, or the Catholic Archbishop of Fiji, or the Bainimarama Government currently (we leave out their totally unaccountable period from the 2006 coup to the 2014 elections), or Opposition Members of Parliament.

Neither is there any genuine collective democratic participation of the local community in the decision making as Archbishop Chong called for in his Fiji Times article. Simply holding elections is not “democracy”.

WB Not Serving the “West” anymore.

In the early decades after WWII, those controlling the WB and IMF were indeed the Super Powers from the “West” as Archbishop Chong alleges, but they also included Japan from the East.

In recent decades, however, China and India have become far more important in world trade and globalization. Indeed, any economic forecasts for the economies of developed countries nowadays begin with economic projections for China and India, just as they used to thirty years ago begin with forecasts of US, Europe and Japan. So the benefits of globalization are not any more just the monopoly of developed countries of the “West” as used to be the rhetoric twenty years ago, but must also now include new countries in Asia (China, India, Korea, Malaysia, Indonesia) and South America (Brazil).

Unfortunately, not discussed much at all in our media (which is sadly mired in moronic discussions about rugby sevens), is that new Super Powers like China, India and Brazil, are facing an uphill battle behind the scenes to try and gain their proper voting rights on the bodies that control World Bank, IMF and World Trade Organization (WTO) which is an even more influential international body for globalization.

It will be interesting to see whether these organizations change in any way when China and WB do obtain greater say on their boards. I suspect that as Trump has done with UN organizations, they will simply withdraw their contributions and apply pressure elsewhere.

Who needs the Structural Adjustment Programs?

Note also that while most Western countries have long protected their domestic goods and services from the cheaper goods and services being produced by the newly emerging countries, the pressures from globalization as implemented by WTO, mean that many non-competitive domestic industries in the developed countries are collapsing, giving rise to the Trump and Brexit phenomena. Even in Australia, after decades of sucking up billions of dollars of taxpayers’ subsidies, the essentially uncompetitive car manufacturing industries have closed down, causing great angst amongst the redundant workers, unions, and political parties.

It is not hard to understand that high wage industries in Australia and US (like car or shoe manufacturing), cannot compete with the same products produced by the same companies, using the same technologies, in developing countries like Brazil or China or India, where the wages are one fifth of that in the developed countries, where workers work much harder, for longer hours, and without all the expensive health and safety regulations and environment protections, and often without the unions that prevail in the developed countries.

All these developed countries and their governments (as here in Australia) face the conundrum of stagnant real wages in industries which are subject to the harsh discipline of free markets and globalization.

These Western countries (including US, Japan and Australia) need Structural Adjustment Programs and lower wages or restrained wage growth, but the WB and IMF are rarely to be seen or heard giving stern advice and SAPs to their governments in the same way they do to weak Third World countries like Fiji. In any case, the developed countries could not care less about WB or IMF, unless they are totally mired in debt and need loans to bail them out, as do bankrupt countries like Greece. Fiji is not there, yet.

The Fiji Government and the Fiji public need to heed the advice of responsible and reputable clerics like Archbishop Chong (with their vows of personal poverty), who have no political agenda or vested material interest to gain in giving that advice. Unlike the grossly over-paid WB and IMF Teams, Archbishop Chong is not going anywhere soon and can be held to account by Fiji people.

[thenightofcups]

On the subject of Jellal’s arc

I've seen some Jellal commentary lately that's kinda raised my eyebrows. There's several points I want to make here and to avoid a tangental rant I'm going to address the biggest three issues I have.

Redemption. What does this mean in Fairy Tail as a manga and what does it mean for Jellal specifically?

Jellal vs. Siegrain. Is this a versus or are they both pieces of the same whole?

Moving forward. Where can Jellal go from here?

REDEMPTION

One of the overlying themes of Fairy Tail as a manga is friendship and forgiveness. Depending on who you ask these things may or may not be executed well.

There's a handful of notable redemption arcs in FT. Laxus and Gajeel have perhaps the most important arcs when it comes to main and secondary characters. Less important, quaternary redemption arcs, like Minerva and my girl Brandish, stand out, as well. Then there's Jellal.

In my opinion, Jellal can be classified as secondary or tertiary, depending on the arc. His relevance usually has something to do with Erza, and he packs a mighty punch. For a character that's secondary on his very Best Day Ever, Jellal has one of the largest and most developed redemption arcs in the series. We've seen him as a charismatic child slave, an obnoxiously arrogant tool of Hades, a kind hearted amnesiac, a self loathing penitent anti-hero, and whatever he is now (I'd classify current!Jellal as on the cusp of completion).

The crimes associated with him are many and include the manipulation of a government body into firing a weapon of mass destruction. There's a lot of debate surrounding these activities and honestly it's super exhausting. Remember, though! Jellal is the only character with a redemption arc (besides perhaps Zeref) who was magically manipulated on a neurological level to commit his crimes. Laxus was abused by his asshole dad. Gajeel was an angry youth who was given an improper outlet. Minerva was also terribly abused by an ain't shit dad. None of these other kids were actual slaves nor were they violated by a magic taught to yet another victim expressly for the purpose of brainwashing (this term is also widely debated and I'll touch on that later).

What's a guy – who's agency was quite literally stripped from him for more than half his life – have to do to earn redemption? According to many in the FT fandom, nothing will ever be enough. I've seen folks say he's heinously unforgivable and can only bring Erza sadness despite canon evidence to the contrary. More than once we've seen Erza state how much she cares about and for Jellal, show appreciation for his efforts, and actual concern for his lack of care in keeping himself hidden from prying eyes.

Why is it so easy for fans to forgive Laxus and Gajeel, but not Jellal? I sure don't know the answer. He has been instrumental in assisting (and saving the life of) the protagonist [Natsu] in a plot relevant battle.

He has saved Erza's life and wreaked havoc in the wake of her injuries...

Time...

And time...

Again.

He has provided crucial assistance to the Magic Council when necessary and followed their rules.

He has been weighed and judged by Mavis and found to have a heart worthy of Fairy Tail.

He not only saves Kagura's life...

...but she later saves his!

What more do you people want? Is this not enough? He has earned the trust and approval of the characters that matter. This is redemption over the course of hundreds of chapters. This is forgiveness. He has earned both. I don't think it's been done poorly. Remember the real-time time line of FT is about two years. I don't think his story has fallen flat at all. In fact, Jellal and Erza are a really good example of love and understanding when it comes to mental illness, trauma recovery, and boundaries.

Jellal does not expect Erza to fix him. He's taken it upon himself to handle his own shit – to right his wrongs as best he can. He's not forcing her into that emotional labor. And like... wow. What a guy. Can actual men take note of this please? Because damn. Erza understands his problems and she loves him (and cares about his well being) so much she has waited for him.

I can't understand the opinion that Jerza is somehow toxic. Are we reading the same manga?

JELLAL vs. SIEGRAIN

When we first meet Jellal as Siegrain, he's an arrogant asshole. He and Ultear display the kind of casual supremacy that only a young person with position and ability – that they likely don't deserve – can pull off. He shows a weird kind of amused affection for Fairy Tail and stops the council from punishing them more harshly for the destruction they regularly cause.

Siegrain's first interaction with Erza is super creepy but foreshadows what happens later with Jellal in his corporeal form at the Tower of Heaven. It's a hint that Erza has a nasty backstory she's keeping secret and that it has something to do with Siegrain. He is very much in her personal space here and the argument can be made that even under Ultear’s control, Jellal is still drawn to Erza. The full story doesn't come until later, though.

In the flashbacks during the ToH arc we see a young Jellal. He is kind. He is friendly. He is charismatic, and in the recent past, he convinced a group of terrified child slaves that they absolutely could escape to freedom – because he genuinely believed they could. He cares deeply for his friends, especially Erza, and when she is tortured to the point of losing an eye, it is Jellal who comes for her and finds her in horrible shape. In the background of the panel below it's pretty clear what Jellal has done to get to her.

These are children approximately 10-12 in age who are living a nightmare that, even by FT's standards, is pretty damn horrible. Jellal is well liked and trusted. Erza cares enough about him to seek him out in return – only to find he's a different person. Between chapters 80-83 Jellal changes utterly. He goes from what Erza describes as her ideal –

To something... else.

While Erza is finding her claws, Jellal is tied up and tortured. He's whipped and beaten and is forced to endure the retelling of what these same guards had done to Erza.

This kind of bleak horror would drive anyone's soul to it's knees. Jellal is about 12 here. He is a child slave on a fucking rock in the middle of the ocean. He tried to rescue a friend he loves only to find her bloodied and missing an eye. For this crime of compassion, he's tortured by the very same people. He. Is. Twelve.

How could a grown person resist the sweet call of revenge by a specter who appears before them claiming to be the ghost of a god, much less a distraught child? Of course he hates the world. Why shouldn't he? I know I hate the world and for so many less valid reasons!

The anime shows the scene where Ultear possesses Jellal very differently than the manga so for the sake of continuity I'm sticking with the manga. By the time Erza finds him, the Jellal she knew has been warped.

Whatever magic Ultear used on Jellal is never explained in detail. In chapter 95, Ultear is speaking with Hades and she thanks him for teaching her a brainwashing technique. The Oxford definition of brainwashing is: “the activity of forcing somebody to accept your ideas or beliefs, for example by repeating the same thing many times or by preventing the person from thinking clearly.” I'm not sure if that meaning entirely defines what happened to Jellal. Ultear appeared to him at a time when Jellal was at his weakest. He was in pain, his heart was broken, his spirit was broken. She offered him an outlet for his rage – but she also lied.

Would Jellal have let her in if he'd been in any other circumstance? Probably not. And it wouldn't matter anyway because Ultear lied. She wasn't Zeref. Nor did she even have a grasp of who Zeref truly was. In fact, Ultear was also a tool much like Jellal – but without the brainwashing magic. She's a product of good old fashioned grooming. He could not possibly have known her true intent of manipulating him for nearly a decade, and hurting a lot of people Jellal previously cared about in the process. If given the full scope of things, would he have let her in? No.

This is basic consent. Jellal was a slave. Slaves cannot give consent. Not ever. They are property. They do not have choices. Jellal could not give Ultear – a person who was not a slave – permission to enter his body or mind and change his goals and decision making processes. For argument's sake, let's take away the slavery element. Jellal is in a random basement dungeon. Still tied up. Still thinking his friends are dead. Still tortured and hating the world. Ultear pops in, lies, and slips in his head. This is still not consent. Her intentions are not made clear to him. He lets her in under completely false pretenses. Any and all arguments that Jellal is somehow to blame for Ultear manipulating him are invalid and should be burned to the ground immediately. Salt that bullshit earth!

All that aside, Ultear is now in his head. Siegrain is born. Is Siegrain really all that different from Jellal? Mmm... not really. Jellal and Siegrain are both parts of the same whole. Siegrain is just as charismatic as Jellal. He's very good at getting what he wants from the council. He is a toxic cocktail of Ultear's desires, and qualities we know Jellal had already. Heroes and villains are shockingly alike when picked apart. Both have ambition and drive. Well written heroes have a darker side, and a well written villain has a core of humanity. Siegrain is a manipulation of Jellal. It only takes a few tweaks to turn a full bodied hero into a nasty villain. Ultear found the right spots, and squeezed.

I have no doubts that if he'd been allowed to grow up without Ultear's and Hades's intervention, Jellal would've developed the same anti-hero tendencies we see from him in the most current arcs. In chapter 416, Jellal tells Erza she'll survive because she has seen the best and worst parts of humanity and understands them. He encourages her to continue her walk in the light.

Even as he says this, he takes his place in the shadows. He knows he is needed there.

Jellal is the kind of guy who will take a bullet for the team. It's just who he is as a person and even before he was brainwashed by Ultear he was struggling to take Erza's bullets.

The line between good and evil is pretty thin. Characteristics alone don't make a person a hero or villain. When boiled down, Siegrain and Jellal are the same person. Intent doesn't always equal result, but result doesn't always have to define a person. Jellal struggles with what defines him. He's made some questionable decisions since regaining control of himself but he is well aware that he toes the line.

I've said before that Jellal is an idealist. He's romanticized his goals and ambitions on a ridiculously impractical scale. This isn't too different than a possessed Jellal. He was positively heretical and had wildly romanticized the idea of Zeref's magic. Idealism on steroids.

MOVING FORWARD

Jellal's stated goal has always been to take down Zeref. He's hellbent on it. The reason for this is pretty clear. He associates Zeref and the zealotry his followers display with everything that went wrong in his life and the lives of the people he loves. I said in a [previous post] that this aspect of Jellal's arc is a bit of a plot hole. Zeref didn't create this dark magic. He was cursed for dabbling in it. We haven't seen too much of pre-curse Zeref but the things he did aren't much different than other characters in other stories (EG: Edward and Alphonse Elric in Fullmetal Alchemist). As I said before, a well written villain has a root in humanity that is somewhat relatable to the audience. That's what makes them scary!

I digress. Crime Sorciere cannot possibly take out all dark magic practitioners any more than a single police department can take out crime in any given city. It's just not plausible. I'm repeating myself here but August addressed this in chapter 509. He scoffs at Jellal's light vs. dark conundrum.

August is right. Jellal can't save the entire world. What he can do is find redemption in love. This is Jellal's crux. He's earned forgiveness from relevant parties – but he's not really expressed whether or not he's forgiven himself. He has done more than anyone could possibly ask of him in order to atone for what was done in his name. Even Kagura has decided his life has worth!

I believe Mashima has set Jellal up to have a happy ending with Erza. When I started reading FT the Avatar arc had just ended. There's a gap between the interpretations of those who binge and those who've read serially for years. Serial consumers have time to stew and get hung up on things that are sometimes hard to let go of. I binged so I was able to consume the meatiest bits of Jellal's story all at once. I don't think it's been poorly executed. I don't think any of it has fallen flat. There is absolutely no point to Kagura saving Jellal's life on her own, without prompting, if Mashima did not intend to wrap up Jellal's arc in a positive way. We even have a canon confession of love.

He implicitly says he has finally found the light in his heart. He's found light. Inside of himself. Jellal loves Erza and has vowed to protect her – and has! Against Acnologia no less! Jellal has all the materials necessary to complete his arc. I have absolute faith this will happen.

I mean...

[airadam]

Episode 128 : Crystalline Carbon

"...as long as I'm alive, I will make it."

- Kim Stephens

It's been a subdued start to the year in the main, and my equipment may have conspired against me, but nothing was getting in the way of the first podcast episode of the decade! There are definitely some popular classics in the selection, right next to brand new releases, and some slightly older tracks which deserve a second - or even first - chance in your headphones. 

Twitter : @airadam13

Playlist/Notes

Roc Marciano : Richard Gear

Roc is the absolute master of this style, and he's back with a new LP release, "Marcielago". If you like this vibe, then you're in for a treat as he carries it over the whole project. It's easy to forget that he's not just penning all those rhymes, but producing the beats as well. He's self-taught and beautifully individual in approach - a leader, not a follower.

[Alchemist] Mobb Deep : The Realest (Instrumental)

One of the most straightforward beats in Al's career - a two-bar loop with nothing added. It was originally going to be an interlude on the Defari "Focused Daily" album, but eventually became a standout on Mobb Deep's "Murda Muzik". This exact instrumental version is on the now-deleted "Gangster Theme Music" collection, but you could pretty much just loop up the start of the Mobb track :)

Trae Tha Truth : Even Tho Its Hard (sic)

A fairly recent release from Trae, taken from his eleventh album, "Exhale". This is a real struggle anthem, voiced by a man whose mic skills are too often overlooked. This is bell-clear rhyming, where you can pick out every single word - aided by the production not fighting him too much for focus. (Once again, this is a case where my digital purchase doesn't contain the credits to enable me to shout out the producer. Fix it, record companies!)

O.C. : The Chosen One

It's been a little while - well over four years - since we visited the "Jewelz" album, so it's about time we came back. Buckwild brings together the jazz and soul to craft the beat on this one, and O.C. strides over it like a king surveying his subjects. The whole album was criminally underrated when it came out, with many just expecting a re-tread of the "Time's Up" sound. A lot went into making it, and it took many listeners a while to catch up - but they did!

Flamingosis : You Were Meant For Me

A nice little piece from a New Jersey producer whose catalogue has a certain sunniness that you just have to listen to understand! Pick up the "Flight Fantastic" album and keep it in the stash until warmer weather arrives...

Statik Selektah & Termanology ft. Mtume : Never Let My City Down

Yes, Mtume of "Juicy Fruit" fame! The "Still 1982" LP from Statik and Term contained this little gem, where I'm not sure exactly who did what apart from the rhymes, but it works. Termanology's flow glides over this with confidence, and even the way the track winds down is expertly done.

9th Wonder : SuperChopFunk!!!!

Yes, all those exclamation points are part of the actual track title... Anyway, the beat is signature 9th Wonder material, drawn from his mostly-instrumental "Zion III" mixtape. With forty-two tracks in total, you can't say he didn't give you value for money!

Krumbsnatcha : Start Writing

I found this while having a flick through Spotify, and was glad I did! The "Iron Will Ninja Shinobi" album came out about a year ago, and it's good to see Krumb out there and still recording. The beat here is dark and menacing, sounding like a Hip-Hop contribution to the "The Terminator" soundtrack, and KS has no trouble matching that vibe on the mic.

David Bars ft. DJ Premier : Beat The Odds

If you don't know him already, it feels like you will pretty soon! Bronx native Bars getting co-signs from some of the best producers to ever do it - DITC, Beatminerz, and DJ Premier, who gave him this beat to rip! "The Bar Code" EP is the release to check to get a fuller picture of what Bars is bringing.

Meyhem Lauren ft. Big Body Bes : Badmon Ting

That "¡Caballito!" adlib will never fail to be amusing! Meyhem is not so much underrated as not well-enough known in my opinion, but he's a beast of an MC. "Gucci kicks got me looking like a pointsettia"? Come on now. Find this DJ Farhot produced track on the 2017 "Piatto D'Oro" album, named after a now-closed NYC restaurant - Meyhem does love the kitchen!

Natural Elements : N.E. Definitely

One of the great crews for the connoisseurs, NE were true kings of the underground right off the bat. Charlemagne provided the beats and L-Swift, A-Butta, and Mr.Voodoo brought bars by the trailerload! Many of the tracks from that era have been collected on the recently-released "1999 : 20 Year Anniversary" collection, of which this is one. Definite recommendation for those who like that real.

[Ali Shaheed Muhammad] Faith Evans : You Used To Love Me (Remix Instrumental)

I was happy to realise I hadn't already used this instrumental on a past episode! This neo-souled-out beat gave Faith's voice more space than the original from her debut album, which was dope in its own right.

Robert Glasper Experiment ft. Brandy : What Are We Doing?

One of the best tracks on the excellent "Black Radio 2", easily. The drummer pushes this one forward constantly, playing a little ahead of the beat as though not completely under control, and the bass and keys fill in a track that would tear down any after-hours spot. And those vocals...you might just write Brandy off as some pop artist because you know her radio singles, but you'd be very wrong. This is a track with the space to expose anyone lacking skills, and she slays it. Recognise!

Children of Zeus : Get What's Yours

New release from Manchester's own Children of Zeus, who are on a flawless run right now. A soulful motivational cut that opens up with the vocals of Tyler Daley before he goes back and forth with Konny Kon on the rhymes. The closing vocals and piano (if you go and hear the full version) round it off exquisitely. Get this on the "Two Syllables, Volume Sixteen" compilation.

Lauryn Hill : Lost Ones

The drums of the Zeus track reminded me of this, so I figured there was probably no better time for me to play it! For me, it's a battle between this and "Everything Is Everything" for best track on the only real Lauryn solo LP, "The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill" - a monster seller for sure. By all accounts firing shots at Wyclef, you can feel the focused anger in this one.

Kool G Rap : My Life

This was a pretty big single from the Rawkus Records part of G Rap's career, which made noise on the 2002 Hip-Hop charts as well as being a mixtape staple of the time. V.I.C (from the original Beatnuts producer crew) brings the beat, and an artist called G-Wise shows out on the talkbox. The official release of "The Giancana Story" album contains this one, as well as an alternate version featuring Capone-N-Noreaga.

Pete Rock : Stop Dat (Instrumental)

Sparse mastery from Soul Brother #1. The most recent release of the 2004 Edo G and Pete Rock LP "My Own Worst Enemy" helpfully contains all the instrumentals for when you want some unfiltered PR, and so is a recommended pickup for DJs at a minimum.

Raekwon ft. Kim Stephens : Jury

Allegedly, this track is actually supposed to be called "Jewelry", but for a typo in the tracklisting! We close the episode with a second track taken from a poorly-received sophomore album, 1999's "Immobilarity". Infinite Arkatechz, who handled the vast majority of the production, clearly picked up a Chris Spheeris compilation and ran wild with it, but this was definitely the track where that choice made the most impact. "Andalu" has nowhere near the cold, pensive feel of this song, which is classic Raekwon for me, as he tells the story of the start of the Wu from his perspective. This month's epigraph could have been any number of the lyrics from here, which paint pictures and describe feelings that I expect many besides me will relate to. On top of all that, Kim Stephens does a great job on the hook, on what may be her only ever recorded appearance. This isn't a track you put in the middle of a mix, you either start with it or end with it. 

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!