#i genuinely cannot say anything else because it's just incoherent but he makes me feel so GENDER and im so HAPPY and my BED smells like BOY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ruby-whistler · 3 years

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You've probably talked about this kinda thing before (I'm willing to hunt down the post if so), but I'm pretty new to your blog and I'm curious; what makes you like c!Dream so much? Other than, like, his potential - or the skill that went into writing him - I mean specifically as a character, what causes you to sympathize with him as opposed to others like Wilbur or Quackity?

If it's personal you obviously don't have to answer! I've just read tons of posts like that from c!Tommy apologists and I realized I'd never read one from the other side of things (so to speak) and I think you present your ideas and stuff rly well :p

Alright, I’ve made a couple of replies like this, but this one is going in the masterpost to later link it to people - thank you for your interest, and I hope you don’t mind this one being a bit detailed.

Initially, on more of an emotional level, the answer to that question would be Dr3. It was how I got into Dream apologism, it justified my compassion for the character, and made me feel more comfortable where the rest of the fandom was overwhelmingly negative.

The c!Dream that people portray seems unsympathetic, and pretty fitting on the surface - a relentless manipulative villain with an insatiate thirst for power who threw away his friends in order to gain control over others for the sake of being on top.

Until you actually look into canon, and do some analysis, and realize that's,,, rather far from the truth.

See, the thing about c!Dream is, that he's a person much like anyone else in the story. He's not a "villain" or some morally black character only because of his actions. It's all about context, which doesn't excuse actions, but it might explain them and make an impact on the way we view the character himself.

In this fandom, people usually look at him, and then throw both accurate characterization and any of that context out the window.

Because power, and hurting people, and chaos isn't his goal or his motive. It's a means to an end. Everything is a means to the end to this character, including himself, which I find fascinating.

Is it wrong to do? Yes. Will it get him closer to his goals? Yes? Then he's going to do it, no matter who gets hurt in the process. No matter if he gets hurt in the process.

And this ruthlessness is not inspired by cruelty, this efficiency isn't out of enjoyment. It's out of genuine attachment and perhaps even desperation, but that's difficult to get into.

He's had such a downward spiral into doing continuously worse things - and for what? For control? For power? No, he never cared about that in the first place, why would he start now?

Do you know what he did care about?

His friends. The server. The people he feels responsible for.

c!Dream's goals have never been selfish at all, no matter how much people try to paint it that way. His ends were always for others - considering how likely the theory that he got himself locked up on purpose is, that enforces the sentiment even more.

If he didn't care about the server, why would he fight against L'Manberg and then list his reasons for it always as reasons "we" had? He pretty much never used "I" when talking about it, I know because I counted it.

If he didn't care about the people, why would he stand against Schlatt - despite understandably still despising L'Manberg - and actively support them in getting their country back when he could've just left them alone? Schlatt wasn't hurting him. Wilbur taking a tiny piece of land wasn't threatening him.

Manberg was threatening the server's peace, which is why he fought against it. L'Manberg threatened (and ruined) the server's relative peace and unity, which is why he fought against it.

It was never him fighting to control the server, it was him fighting for the server and the people in it, even if he ended up hurting them in the process, and that's pretty clear from analysing his motives before the second season.

And yeah, his thinking is flawed, I noticed - but cc!Dream has confirmed his goal in the end is for everyone to get along and, well, stop hurting each other, as well as him having an "ends justify the means" mentality.

And I guess that silent realization of - hell, he cares - was what drew me to have such a strong attachment towards the character.

So thinking about him forcing himself to do all this terrible stuff - about him being stuck powerless inside a cell, hurt over and over again - about just how desperate he must've been, alternatively, how ready to sacrifice himself he must've been back at the Finale.

If you recontextualize the story from c!Dream's perspective, it all falls into this picture of someone who wanted to protect people more than anything, and who cared more than anyone, and ended up losing everything, not entirely by his own fault, but because of the cycle of violence he was actively trying to stop.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Dream is incredibly selfless both in his overarching goals, and in his smaller more immediate ones. He will, more often than not, put himself in a disadvantageous situation if it means his friends or allies aren’t caught in the crossfire or harmed.

His relationship with his friends - Punz, George and Sapnap specifically - is incredibly tragic. He wanted to protect Punz, he showed genuine concern about him, he was willing to have one less person on his side just so that people wouldn't target him.

He wanted to protect George, but he hurt him in the process, because he was too caught up in being in the right, and Sapnap was distraught thanks to Tommy telling him that Dream doesn't care about him, and Quackity who despised Dream was there to fan the flames, so they fell apart rather easily.

He wanted to protect the cat, and he failed.

He wanted to protect Techno, stand up to Quackity, and he failed.

If you think about it, he failed to protect everyone miserably.

Alright before I break down sobbing incoherently - as you can probably see, my sympathy towards c!Dream doesn't come from him being a good person to any degree, more from just incredible amounts of sadness.

You see, c!Dream is a very reserved character, and he puts up the "cruel scary villain" front on purpose, and he doesn't talk about his emotions on purpose. However what we see of him is pretty much enough to classify him as a rather tragic character.

Most of his actions, with enough context, shift the way I think about the character in a more positive direction only because if I like the way a character is written, it's going to bleed into my feelings for the character himself. Ruthless villains are my jam. A character being fun to analyse and too complex to complicate further is pretty much the only thing I need to become attached.

Did I mention the prison arc yet? I cannot see a character suffering and not be sympathetic, I don't think that's a thing with me. Healing arc potential, isn't it?

A lot of people also relate to the character on a deeply personal level! Trauma responses such as cutting people off and emotionally isolating yourself, trying to regain control of your environment or to get back the past, some people even relate to,, what's being done to him during the prison arc. There's definitely some amount of projection going on, but I'd say I only do it to a degree where when I'm depressed I'll start relentlessly posting about a healing arc.

It's just hard to see a villain with good intentions hurt and alone, even if he's done terrible things, and not feel some amount of empathy. Most people don't care to see him that way, but my blog's mostly a place for those who do.

Anyways, here are some essays to check out perhaps if you've read this far that elaborate on some of the points further-

[ x ] [ x ] [ x ] [ x ] [ x ] [ x ]

- and here's an explanation like this from a fellow Dream apologist. Might be useful to get multiple perspectives on the subject. Feel free to also send asks if you have any questions! That's what I'm here for.

#dream smp #c!dream #dreblr #my asks #angeloncewas #long post #thanks for the question! :]

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stayarmytinyzenmoa-l · 3 years

Text

Locked and Reloaded [Ch. 5]

Marvel AU

TW: Language, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Blood, Gun Violence, Implied Abusive Household

Genre: Action, Light Comedy, Angst

Pairing: NCT Dream x Reader

YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her)

(5/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next]

[Main Masterlist] | [Locked and Reloaded Masterlist]

Word Count: 6.5K

Notes: It’s about time these members entered the story. I’m dropping this now instead of a Saturday upload because I’m getting my second dose of vaccine in about nine hours, and from how both of my parents reacted something tells me that I’m going to be incapacitated for the next two days, so I decided to finish this bad boy up now! Currently next on my list to work on is Infatuation, so I’ll see you in that update!

Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in or condone these actions. I would never wish any of these actions to occur to the Idol(s) mentioned in the writings of these stories, nor do I wish any harm on them.

“That’s stupid,” you told your older brother. Baekhyun just laughed. You had just finished ranting to him how a majority of the premise of chemistry was ridiculous, being founded on one key theory that could be amended at any moment, something now set in stone or put to law. It was a theoretical science that clashed with the lawfulness of physics and the puzzle of biology. “Chemistry is literally the weakest link.”

“I don’t quite think so, songbird,” the nickname was sweet in his voice, it was one you had had for as long as you could remember. He leans against your desk and he points at the picture. “It’s just atomic theory.”

“Yeah, and it’s stupid. Imagine, all of this work, all seven hundred of these pages and countless other books could get proved incorrect if someone disproves it.”

“You read this entire textbook and that’s all you have to say about it?” Baekhyun raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Wah, you’re so amazing and you don’t even know it,” he hugged your head to his stomach and you pushed him away.

“Ew, you’re so gross,” you wiped the sweat from your face. “At least shower before coming into my room! You’re disgusting when you use the gym.”

“And miss my darling sister? No way, that and I came to congratulate you!” He points at the certificate on your desk just under your coffee mug. “Not every day you win the science fair… again.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks,” you put a textbook over it. He was right, but it was hardly an achievement for you at this point, it was an expectation.

“What did you do this year?” None of them even showed up, the only person there to help you with your project was Jeno, but he was always there whether you liked it or not.

“You don’t know?”

“I was at the conference, remember?”

“Oh, right,” you sighed. “It was just an observation on bees.”

“Whoa! Bees are great! They’re so helpful for pollination, for honey, and so much more!” Baekhyun smiles. “Hey, your birthday’s coming up, right? Fourteen? Oh god, oh no, my songbird? A teen? I don’t think I can handle this.”

“You’re overreacting! It’s not like I’m going to be any different. Plus, I’m already a teen.”

“Oh, (Y/N), you have no idea. Thirteen is the one year free trial before you start having to pay to be a teen. Once you turn fourteen, ugh, I don’t even know how to say this,” Baekhyun fake cries and wipes away the invisible tears. “It’ll be like you’re a whole different person.”

“Stop that! Why are you acting so weird?” You laughed and turned to him. Baekhyun crossed his arms over his chest and your smile dropped. You knew that look on his face better than anyone. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I leave tonight,” he says.

“How long?”

“Maybe a week this time, dad wants to show me the properties over in Zone 8.”

“Seriously? What for?” The factories that far out from the city were nearly ghost factories, they just handled building the smaller removable parts of the weapons your father developed. You couldn’t think of a possible reason why Baekhyun would have to go out that far.

“I have no clue, maybe he just wants me to see the Byun system at a smaller scale,” Baekhyun sighs. “Will you be okay here?”

“Will I be okay here? Don’t make me laugh,” you slammed your textbook shut and stared at him. “She hates me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“She does! You’ve seen the way she talks to me when you’re not around, Baek, I genuinely think that woman wants to get rid of me.”

“She’s your mother.”

“No, she’s your mother.” You didn’t mean for it to come out as accusing as it did. But you could genuinely say that you never felt anything from her aside from the obvious disdain she must have held for you. But what could you do? You’d hate you too. If one day your husband showed up at your doorstep with a kid you didn’t recognize telling you to treat her as if she was your own, you’d despise that child’s existence. All you were was proof of infidelity, and your stepmother made that very clear. You were her daughter on paper alone, but in reality, you were nothing more than a freeloader. “I’m just the bastard kid from dad’s mistress.”

“Do not,” Baekhyun held a finger up and stared at you with an intensity you’ve never seen on his face before. Seriousness wasn’t something that Baekhyun often used, especially around you. “Do not ever reduce yourself to that. Do you understand? You are so much more than that and you can’t let anyone who says that to you bring you down, you cannot let that weigh on you. Who even told you that?”

“She did. Who else?”

“God…” Baekhyun looked away and huffed. He held his hand to his forehead and sighed. “Keep in touch with me, okay? Just one more year and I can take it to court.”

“Forget it, Baek,” you waved your hand. “It would never work. We have no proof.”

“Well,” Baekhyun pressed his lips together and placed a tape in front of you.

“A tape? Seriously?”

“Don’t hate on old tech, they’re still around for a reason. I have a walkman in my room, second drawer on my desk. Listen to it later, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you placed the tape in your own drawer, out of sight and out of mind.

“Just wait for me, alright?”

“Yeah.”

“(Y/N), I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“I’ll be back, okay?”

“Okay, just go, dad’s probably waiting for you,” you opened your textbook again and stared at the passages on it. You had a really bad feeling about tonight, but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it.

“Love you, songbird.”

“I know.”

“Sungchan! Four o’clock!” You shouted towards the agent. Sungchan, moving a second too late was met with the spine of a book to his face, promptly knocking him out. “Aw, geez,” you shoved your bag under a table, hoping that it would be somewhat okay after the fight, and threw a metal tray, the circular object blocking one of the flying weapons from hitting Shotaro on his way to Sungchan.

“Thank you!” He shouts. He leans next to his best friend and tries to wake him up while the fight continued.

“I’ll try to keep you guys covered, but you might need to fill in for me eventually, Reaper’s not doing too good over there,” you stumbled over to the two and handed Shotaro one of the pillows from the couch. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, just knocked out, but I have to watch him just in case… you know.”

“I do, just make sure he’s fine.”

With Jeno’s sudden appearance the Sanctum became a new battleground. Ancient artifacts were being used left and right for battle, whether they were used correctly or not, and with incoherent shouts filling the previously calm room. Strange was doing his best to prevent anything potentially world-threatening from happening, the Sorcerer Supreme understanding the laws of the universe, as well as any of you did, while the Maverick worked to bring down Vulture. The surprise attack rendered them at an unfortunate disadvantage. Strange was more concerned with keeping the battle within the Sanctum than he was helping any of you out, which was entirely understandable.

“I got it!” Peter shoved back the bookcase that was about to fall on you.

“Thanks, Peter.”

“Just so you know I am so sorry I did not mean for any of this to happen I didn’t know.”

“Oh goodness, no hard feelings, Peter, it happens to the best of us,” you said to him. “There’s no way you could’ve known.”

“Thanks, (Y/N), that means a— Watch out!” He pushed you out of the way just as a shield lodged itself between you, you turned towards the source and saw Vulture, and you had to stop yourself from getting any more frustrated than you already are.

“Fucking hell,” you clapped your hands together and jogged in place. “Stretching before fights is good for you, Peter, don’t forget that,” you said to him. Then you saw Cap waving his hand. You pulled the shield from its spot and threw it back to him.

“Nice arm!”

“Don’t lose your shit!” You moved your head to the side just as a bullet whizzed past you. “And watch where you’re aiming!” You dodged another bullet as it ricocheted off of one of the metal artifacts of the Sanctum.

“I am,” Jaemin’s voice was steady despite the chaos. “Reaper!” Jaemin tossed one o the artifacts towards the other, particularly a sharp one, and Jeno drove it into the wall next to Vulture, just barely grazing the Follower. Vulture grabbed onto the back of Jeno’s neck, the razor claws on his hands emerging and sinking into the half-demon before Vulture slammed Jeno’s head through the wall.

“Urgh, I felt that,” you rubbed the back of your neck as the phantom pain shot through it. You quickly stepped back just as an eldritch whip snapped in front of you.

“Mr. Wong?!” Peter gasps.

“That one isn’t in our database,” Jaemin grabbed onto the whip as it went towards you again, ‘Wong’ staring at him with a slight confusion, to which Jaemin just tugged it away from the other’s hands, watching the concentrated energy dissipate.

“Well then add him later, dammit,” you charged towards Vulture but soon felt something wrap around your ankle. You looked at the portal next to your foot and the hand around it. “Ew! Oh my god!” You yanked it out of ‘Wong’s’ grasp and shot towards him, the bullets disappearing before they could get anywhere close. No wonder it was so fucking convenient, you hoped whoever the real Wong was and where he was currently wasn’t too horrible.

“We should name this guy,” Jaemin dodged the eldritch disk that nearly sliced his throat. “I’m thinking Frisbee.”

“Oh come on, let’s stay true to tradition and wait for Hyuck,” you pulled a sword from the suit of armor next to you and blocked the whip again. You turned the hilt in your hand and smiled. “Ooh, I like this. You know my ex used to be an expert fencer.”

“I almost forgot about that one,” Jaemin hums. “What’s with sleeping beauty over there?”

“Got hit in a face with a book.”

“Oh that’s good, one less bomb we have to worry about.”

“That’s rude,” you scolded him.

“Can someone help me over here?!” Jeno’s pissed off voice came from the office. He pushed himself up from the rubble and cracked his neck before his knuckles. “I’m going to kill this guy, fuck the Agreement.”

“Does the Agreement even apply this far out?” You asked. Jaemin pulled out his phone briefly. The Agreement was offered by the D98 Avengers, basically promising not to do any dimension altering things, but it was just a promise, nothing was set in stone and thus was lacking in any legality. It was a gentleman’s promise, so to say.

“Technically it doesn’t, D62 is far out of D98 bounds. And since none of the Avengers are here…” Jaemin let Jeno fill in the blanks himself.

“Good,” Jeno tapped his wrists together, a blood-red magic circle appearing between them.

“Wait, do you guys hear that?” You looked around while skillfully parrying evil Wong’s attacks.

“Hear what?” Shotaro was nursing the passed out Sungchan while blocking any projectiles that made their way towards him.

“It kind of sounds like screaming,” Jaemin furrowed his eyebrows.

“No, it sounds like… no, of all the members to send,” you groaned. Then the sound of doors crashing open accompanied the chaos that was the Sanctum while a familiar face ran in head first, literally, screaming his head off, and rams into Dr. Strange.

“I got this one, V! Don’t worry!” Chenle shouts.

“You idiot he’s on our side!” Jeno grabs a polearm from a nearby suit of armor and whacks it over Vulture’s head, the polearm breaking in half right after and really just pissing off the Follower more.

“Oh is he? Sorry!” Chenle detached himself from the sorcerer.

“Looks like we’ll be having a change in plans,” Strange murmured and disappeared from the room.

“Did the wizard just dip?!” You yelled.

“I think so!” Chenle yelled back, despite being right next to you.

“Why are you even here?!”

“We were talking to Fury when Jeno just fell into a sudden pool of blood! I followed your tracker here because I figured you’re in trouble. Be grateful!”

“I never said I wasn’t?!” You heard a pang next to you and turned to your side, a circular shield blocking your vision for only a brief moment before connecting with Other Wong’s abdomen.

“Thanks,” you nodded towards Steve.

“No problem,” he says. “But where’d that bullet come from?” Cap looks around the room. Jaemin rushes next to you and grabs something, pointing it upwards. Within a few moments, someone materializes next to him. A classic cloaking spell, of course, right when you needed it most.

“Monsieur,” her voice was hoarse.

“Lynx,” you saw him grimace while the woman drove a knife into Jaemin’s side and twisted it harshly. A loud groan left the man’s throat while you darted next to him and tackled the woman to the ground.

“I like your D62 version better!” You pressed your gun to her head and she threw you off before you could pull the trigger.

“Nat!?” Steve blocked another gunshot from her with his shield.

“Not Nat,” Bucky answers.

“Where have you been?”

“This thing’s still glowing,” Bucky held up the crystal.

“Give that to me!” Chenle appears next to them and grabs it. “You meaty idiots don’t know what to do with this.”

“Was that an insult?”

“Apperio!” Chenle ignored the Captain and chanted the charm, a magic circle appeared around the crystal. Following the ripple of two blue circles that expanded throughout the room, two more people appeared.

“There’s more of them?!” You shot Vulture in the leg. Before you were two other notorious members of the Elite. Arachnid, who you fought before, and Dead Shot, someone you were hoping not to run into in this dimension. “Someone get Parker out of here as soon as he touches Arachnid it’s over!” You shout.

“Oh please, I wouldn’t even try that. What good is this mission if any of us blow up the dimension while we’re at it,” Arachnid catches the flying dagger and flings it back towards Jaemin, who easily dodged it.

“We have orders to keep you alive, Vendetta, comply and the others will live,” Dead Shot spoke in his trademarked mechanical voice.

“Fuck that,” you pointed your gun at Arachnid and click. Click, click. “Well, this is awkward,” you chucked the magnum at Arachnid, the handle of the gun hitting the area between the mutant’s eyes and stunning him briefly, while Dead Shot released a flurry of bullets. You ran along the wall to dodge them, looking for something to shield yourself with now that Cap and Bucky were busy with Lynx, Jeno had Vulture busy, and Jaemin moved over to Arachnid so that Peter could handle Evil-Wong instead.

“Surrender or be forced to, Vendetta.”

“Well, shit,” you held a book in front of you while Dead Shot went through consecutive rounds.

“How could you not know a Follower was here?!” Jeno was pushed back next to you while deflecting Vulture’s attacks.

“How the hell was I supposed to know?! I didn’t even know that those three were here until a couple of minutes ago!”

“Are you kidding me?!”

“No, I’m not kidding you because if I was we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“It has been thirty minutes! I let you and Jaemin go for thirty minutes and this happens!”

“In our defense,” Jaemin gets pushed back to the other side of you and clears his throat. “Peter brought us here.”

“I said I’m sorry!” Peter brushes off the embers on his suit. “Aw man, how am I going to explain this to Mr. Stark?”

“Explain? Have you been reporting us to him?!” You asked.

“Uh… no,” Peter’s phone goes off and he answers it. “Hi, Mr. Stark, there’s kind of a situation going on right now—”

“Tell them not to come here! If any of the other Followers show up it could tear the fabric of reality apart!” Chenle shouts. A magic circle appears under Peter’s phone and it short circuits. Chenle adjusts the watch around his wrist, a much larger magic circle appearing from it.

“Vocavi te ab umbris,” at the utterance of the words the shadows in the room gathered together to a much larger amalgamate. “Go, Vendetta, I’ll keep them handled.”

“Fuck,” you spotted your backpack, which was pushed up against the wall on the other side of the room.

“What now?” Jeno asks.

“Backpack.”

“What about it?”

“There’s something really important in there,” Jaemin sounded disappointed. “We could hole-in-one it, V.”

“We could,” you said. “But that risks shaking it up too much.

“Hot potato then?” Jeno offers.

“Who would start it?”

“The closest person is Shotaro, if he throws it far enough I could probably catch it,” Jeno says. “Pass it over to Jaemin.”

“Then I’ll pass it to you. But by then you need to be in that hallway,” Jaemin says.

“Got it, I can do that.”

“And if anything goes wrong?”

“Wing it.”

“We’re going to die in this dimension, aren’t we?” Jeno frowns.

“On the count of three, break,” Jaemin says, ignoring his best friend’s words. You hand Jeno the old sword, which he took without question. “One.”

“What do I need this for?”

“Well, I certainly don’t need it.”

“Two.”

“Wait, are we even on the same page?”

“I don’t know, are we?”

“Three!” Jaemin shoved you forward and you took off, dodging literally everything on your way to get out and probably get some more help.

“Shotaro! Pass me that backpack!” Jeno shouts over the gunshots. Shotaro perked up and grabbed the black bag, chucking it towards Jeno, who caught it easily. “Monsieur— Fuck, too far, Apollo! Pass this over to him!” Jeno tossed the backpack towards Chenle, the heavy bag slamming into the magician mid-spell.

“What the hell?!”

“Pass it here!” Jaemin knocked over Lynx and used her head the propel himself up and grab the backpack after Chenle threw it. He ran over towards you and threw it. Right as your hand grabbed the strap, it was yanked away from you.

“Fuck!” You looked back at who had it now, seeing your backpack in the hands of the last person who should have it. You were about the run over to him, but the bullet that landed too close for comfort reminded you that you had to leave now. “Arachnid has it!” You’d just have to put your trust into the three that were already here.

“Got it,” Jeno bashed his knee into Vulture’s head, finally incapacitating the Follower and switched targets. You turned around and ran into the hallway. You just had to call one of the other members to run over here with some extra materials. You hit the side of your phone, which only frizzed at the motion. Chenle must have jammed the signals to prevent more reinforcements from coming, great. You couldn’t run around forever, Dead Shot always hit his targets in the end, you continued down the hallway, not bothering to look back, but when you found yourself cornered against a hallway, you forced to figure out a solution. With the smell of smoke and the sounds of bullets hitting the ground— Wait a second. You looked down the hallway, bullets hitting metal and ricocheting towards you but never hitting any intended destination, there wasn’t even a bullet hole in sight, instead there were just empty shells on the ground. But in your analysis you failed to notice the stray bullet that was right in front of you. Then you saw someone’s closed fist in front of you.

“Did I get all of them?” He panted. He opened his hand and twelve bullets fell out of it.

“Oh my god, Mark, you’re just in time, I don’t remember you being this fast either,” you caught your breath and hugged the speedster, separating quickly. Mark pat down the smoke on his boots.

“I don’t think I’ve ever run that fast…” He stretches his back and kicks the bullet shells aside.

“How’d you even get here?”

“The sorcerer guy called Baekhyun and asked us to come right away. I had a feeling it wasn’t anything good so I came first, told them I’d scout the area. It’s a good thing I came, otherwise you’d look like Sponge-Bob…” He laughs awkwardly. “You’re at your quota, aren’t you?” He looks down at your feet. You followed his gaze and saw the rusted knife sticking out from it, then you noticed the bloody trail you left behind. You sighed and pulled the old thing out.

“Remind me to get a Tetanus shot.”

“You are at your quota,” he gasped.

“Can’t afford to possibly die right now,” you shook your head. “I thought since the dimension was far enough it’d get me some leeway, but I guess not,” you grimaced.

“Shit, it really is a good thing that I came just in time,” Mark looks over his shoulder. “Dead Shot should be on his way, you didn’t make it hard to find you.”

“Don’t smart-mouth me right now, Mark.”

“Right, yeah, sorry about that,” the speedster ruffled his blue hair and unzipped his jacket, pulling out a book from it. It was heavy, no doubt, leather-bound with metal embellishments around it. The book had lived through as many eons as it did dimensions. You had asked Mark to try to get it for you if he could, but nothing more than that. Better to leave him in blissful ignorance. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time to say this,” he says while he hands it to you.

“Just spit it out.”

“I was looking into that thing you asked me about and here, this is all I got,” he says. “Whatever you need it for it’d better be important, I almost got turned into a frog for it. The guy I got it from warned me not to read it though.”

“Why?”

“I dunno, something about corrupting the person who reads it.”

“Oh shit, I should have Jeno read it then.”

“True, you can’t corrupt a demon.”

“But then again he is only half.”

“Look, (Y/N), I only got you the book because you were so insistent on it. Just reassure me and tell me that you won’t do anything stupid with it.”

“I won’t, I won’t, I may be stupid but I’m not that stupid, Mark. When are the others coming?”

“I just gave them the signal to enter, they’ll be taking care of the Follower problem here in a bit. But you’re going to have to explain why you’re here to them, and I’m afraid that it might involve you revealing your identities this time.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Why else would you be in D62 being housed and paid by this dimension’s Avengers?”

“Fair enough—” you were cut off by the bullet grazing your ear and landing in the wall behind you. Another one rang out and Mark grimaced, holding his hand to his shoulder

“Argh! Come on!” He grunts. He puts a hand on your back and one behind your neck.

“Why?”

“Whiplash,” you blinked and suddenly found yourself back in the Avenger’s Compound.

“Mark, don’t you dare!”

“Sorry! Jeno’s orders! I’d rather a pissed off you than Jeno!”

“Mark, I swear if you zoom out of here—” but the speedster was already gone by the time you turned around. “Dammit!” You kicked the wall and winced immediately, you completely forgot that it was the same foot that had a knife driven through it earlier.

He was right, you’d reached your quota. There was a certain amount of times you were allowed to “die” until it would be too much, and you knew you’d be at this quota when your body would stop healing itself, it was getting ready for its original host to return. You just didn't think you’d reach it soon, and who knows until the number resets? It was always a varying number, and until it did you had to lay low. It was such a hassle that you always tried to avoid it, but coming to this dimension seemed to have expedited the whole thing. You heard a bag of chips drop behind you.

“(Y/N)? When did you get here?” Jisung stared at you while he picked up the bag.

“Mark.”

“Mark’s here? Where?” Jisung looks around.

“There was a complication at Dr. Strange’s place,” you limped towards him, he rushed over to you and reached for your hand to help you, but you tugged it away. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, okay,” Jisung gave you a little more space, but still walked next to you, sporting that easy-to-read concern. “Do they need help?”

“No. The Avengers are coming.”

“Oh… oh no,” Jisung caught onto why you were being short now. “Oh no, oh no, we won’t have a choice then.”

“No, we won’t,” you heaved the large book under your arm. Jisung looked at it but chose not to question you. “I’ll be in my room, I have a lot of thinking to do before we explain ourselves to the lapdogs so, if you need me, I’ll be in there,” Jisung says.

“Oi, (Y/N)!” Haechan held his hand up and Jisung furiously shook his head. Hyuck pressed on regardless. “Think you need this,” he waved the small box in his hand and you did a doubletake.

“Where did you get that?!” You rushed forward and snatched it out of his hands. “Be a bit more gentle with it!”

“Whoa! What’s got you pissed? Jeno drowned and dropped this. Changmin said to give it to you so I figured it’s important, damn.”

“The Avengers are coming.”

“Like… these Avengers?” He points around the room. “Or our Avengers.”

“The second one,” Jisung nods. “Right, (Y/N)?” You didn’t answer, you were already halfway to your room. You tossed the book on your bed and you opened the small box, pulling the vial of iridescent liquid from it. You twisted it open and downed its limited contents in one gulp. You felt all of your muscles relax at once and you sat on the bed. The wound on your foot closed quickly.

“Postponed, at least for now,” you stretched your arms. “But not permanently,” you placed the vial back in the box and you grabbed the book. As you held the two sides in your hands, ready to open it, you recalled Mark’s warning. Then you remembered the words of the Demon King himself.

“If you know what’s good for you, and what’s good for the world you reside in. Do not seek more than you already know about yourself.”

The times you spoke to Jeno’s father were limited, and your best friend liked it that way, preferred it actually, but the times you did talk they were always pleasant. Save for that warning. He knew something you didn’t, the both of them. You acquired this book without any of their knowledge. For years you just went with it, there’s a quota for death, there’s a reason why you can’t die, there’s a reason why you should avoid stepping near the Seraph, but now in this new universe, you had to know. There was something calling out to you in this dimension, it was very faint, and you didn’t truly notice it until you walked into the Sanctum.

You put the book away, sliding it under the bed.

Trust is mutual, if two very powerful beings are telling you to stay in your lane you probably should. You knew the bare minimum of your condition, so to say, you knew what you had to. Die too many times too close together and something else will come and reclaim its host, and all you knew about that entity was that it was some eldritch creature that took a millennia to finally contain, and for some reason, it had some affinity for you. That is where your knowledge stopped and your curiosity began. What could be so powerful that even the all-powerful Demon King wanted to keep it contained, and what did it have to do with you? Your answers were under your bed. But you risked too much by simply opening the book on its own. You hit your head lightly on the wall behind you. The liquid in the vial would extend your quota by at most three, you had to use them carefully. If you were going to attract a horrific monster, it would probably be best to not do it in a world that you didn’t belong to.

There was a knock at your door.

“What do you want, Renjun?”

The door opened slowly, and someone else stood at it.

“Is now a bad time?” Stark asks. You shook your head.

“It’s your building, come in,” you sighed. He walked in at your invitation, sitting at the table to the side.

“So this is what S.H.I.E.L.D. meant by living accommodations,” he laughs.

“What did you need, Mr. Stark?”

“Tony’s fine, thanks,” he says. “Sorry, it was eating away at me, I had to ask.”

“You wanna know about what you’re like in my dimension, right?”

“I’d appreciate it, but, something tells me I should come back later.”

“Oh, no, no, it’s fine.”

“Where are your friends?”

“Probably getting their asses kicked, but I’m here instead,” you shrugged. “Honestly, you’re not that different. Maybe a little less depressed, but that’s about it. For what it counts, to our knowledge, you aren’t a Follower. You work closely with the Seraph, if they found out then you would’ve been executed on spot, at the very least.”

“Oh yeah? Crazy leader or rational one?”

“Bit of both,” you leaned forward on your bed, kicking the book further under your bed. “Want to know anything else?”

“I was wondering if you could walk me through your Traveler of yours, is it anything like Time Travel?”

“Let’s call it two sides of the same coin.”

“How so? What do you use? Cosmic strings? Möbius strip?”

“Have you heard of the infinite cylinder theory?”

“Also known as Tipler?

“Yes!”

“Then yes, I’m aware.”

“How about Schrödinger’s Equation?”

“We’re talking hamiltonian operators?”

“Bingo. If you can manipulate those two concepts, you can get time travel, but it’s not perfect. So manipulate them differently, add a few more concepts because you have to take relativity into account, and bam. Dimensional Travel.”

“That easy?”

“Yeah, well, no, but in theory sure.”

“And you never went to high school?”

“What’s that got to do with it? If you need a degree to prove you’re right then you’re probably not the sharpest tool in the shed,” you shrug. Tony opened his mouth to retaliate, but couldn’t think of a good comeback to that. “Something tells me you want to ask me something more specific though, Peter let slip that he’s been sending you updates, so I’m sure you’re here for a different reason.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why help us?”

“Don’t really know how to answer that one, Tony,” you placed your ankle on your opposite knee and rolled out your ankle. “Usually we just take whichever job pays the most, but Changmin asked us personally to take this one, so how could we say no? The guy rarely ever asks us favors, and it was the least we could do.”

“That simple?”

“What? Did you want me to say that we wanted to meet you guys? I mean, it’s certainly a plus. Most of your team happen to be carbon copies of the same one who wants to kill us, so there’s that, we’re observing the ways you act, maybe it’ll help us in the future, maybe not. It’s like a two-way deal, you get your Traveler, and we get data.”

“Data,” Tony scoffs. “I can see why you’d come to that conclusion.”

“What can I say? It’s helpful. But, I can definitely say that we might be relieved of our duties soon, we’re technically here illegally, I’ll have you know,” you said to him. “We’re supposed to get official approval from the Secretary of Travel before jumping dimensions, but we’re not exactly law followers so we never did. But now that an official government team is on their way, hoo boy, my greatest rival is yet to come. Paperwork,” you made light of what would otherwise be a very very bad situation.

“I heard, so we get to meet the other Avengers.”

“Yup. And, let me tell you right now, they’re not the nicest people.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, just you wait until I tell you about them.”

The shadow amalgamate shattered into what it once was, scurrying back to their original positions, once Chenle had the wind knocked out of him by Lynx. He landed harshly on Jaemin, who then lost his balance and sent the two tumbling down to the first floor of the Sanctum.

“Sorry,” Chenle rolled off the top of Jaemin.

“It’s fine, call it even for the incident with the banshee.”

“Agreed, ugh, my head’s doing cartwheels…”

“Cartwheels? I feel like mine is being churned,” Jaemin holds his head. Chenle and Jaemin lay next to each other for a moment, trying to stop their spinning heads when someone stood over them.

“Are we bothering you, gentlemen?”

“Ugh, these fuckers are here,” Jaemin covered his eyes with his arms. “Tell me when they’re gone, Apollo.”

“That’s kind of mean,” Mark frowns. Jaemin moves his hand.

“Mark’s not a bad person, actually, Tony. I feel bad because I encouraged him to join the Avengers when they asked, but the other guys saw it as a complete betrayal. But he’s loyal, he doesn’t hate us and we don’t hate him, or at least I don’t.”

“Oh look! The traitor!” He lazily points at him. “Do you know how much shit we’ve been through since you left?”

“All the dishes we’ve had to wash?”

“V won’t even let us take your room because she thinks you’re coming back! You dumb traitor, what happened to our friendship bracelets, Mark?! Huh?!”

“You guys, don’t call me that, come on! Look I’m still wearing it!” Mark whines.

“Go away! You left us for your cooler friends who can legally blow things up, go! Go have fun with them!” Chenle points an accusing finger towards the speedster.

“Just leave them there,” Mark whispers.

“We’re looking for Strange,” a deeper voice says.

“Oh my god, is that Wong Yukhei?” Jaemin asks, his blurred vision not helping him at all. “You know, Vendetta has a cardboard cutout of you, I think she talks to it sometimes,” he laughs, his words slightly slurred as a result of the head damage received when he fell on the hard floors in the first place.

“Flattered,” Yukhei responds.

“Wong Yukhei, decorated soldier from the order of war and the first in the super-soldier experiments. Actually not a bad guy, but feels the need to flex his bravado every now and then because of the team he’s on, and honestly, I kind of relate to that.”

“The hatless wizard is somewhere upstairs,” Chenle points up and lets his arm drop to his side. “We’d help, but you guys look like one big ugly walrus right now.” Jaemin starts cracking up and the two high five.

“Do we have to work with them?” Another voice snapped.

“Li Yongqin, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, Lee Youngheum, he has too many names to remember so people usually just call him Ten. He was a perfect student in the military academies, which I’m guessing where his nickname comes from. But he’s pretty impatient, rather ill-tempered from my experience."

“We don’t have a choice,” a more suave on this time.

“Ooh, Lee Taemin. He's an interesting one, Tony. We’re actually pretty close, or used to be at least. He’s very good at what he does, he has years of experience under his belt, but it’s pretty scary. He’s probably done his research by now, be careful, he knows you better than you know yourself. Don’t argue.”

“Gentlemen, let’s end this, we have clearance from the Seraph to exterminate the Followers,” a more powerful one.

“Oh, oh, Lee Taeyong! He’s great. I’ve seen him work a couple of times, I think he’s shot me in the head before. Don’t ask. I have a great deal of respect for him, but he’s kind of anti-social, not easy to get along with him, but I think it’s all miscommunication in the end. I think if we really got to know each other we’d hit it off, but otherwise, I think I’m just a person with a bounty on her head in his eyes.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jaemin pushed himself up, his eyes finally focusing. “Exterminate? Yeah, you guys do that, but let the Maverick leave first, we don’t want to get caught up in your deathmatch again,” Jaemin hits the side of his head a few times.

“Where’s the Vendetta?”

“Not here! She left because Reaper was being a little bitch!” Jaemin laughs again and Chenle joins him.

“We’re wasting our time here with these idiots,” another person says. Chenle squints his eyes to make out the figure.

“Now there’s Kim Jongin, he’s one of the people who started the Avengers project and got them all together. He’s an indispensable member, in my opinion. But when you’re in a team with that many star-studded members who are constantly in the public eye, it’s easy to get lost in the lights. But he knows how to keep things according to itinerary.”

“Who are you again?” He asks. “I thought the Avengers only had six members,” he stifles back a laugh.

“Dude that’s low!” Jaemin cackles. Mark swallows down a laugh when Taemin looks over at him, both of them trying to be respectful to their teammate.

“I know that’s why I said it!” Chenle hits his teammate’s arm and Jaemin winces, but the two continue in their little circus.

��Forget them, let’s just go,” Jongin. The team ascends the steps.

“Enter, the Avengers,” Baekhyun smiles.

“And finally there’s their leader. Byun Baekhyun— yes, he’s my older brother, no we don’t talk, and I don’t think he even knows I’m alive. He’s similar to you in some aspects, he pays for all of their shit. But he’s manipulative. He knows how to get into your head. Be careful with him.”

General Tag List: @vickylamore @yeongwvnhi @mizzdivagirl7-blog @sehunnies-hunnie96 @roses09020617 @bat-shark-repellant @cloudreads @awesomei @raeincitizen @here-aeth

Locked and Reloaded: @leesalts @lublyrecs @beefchippp @hiqhkey @tyuningkai @p-mini @ellie-idk-anymore @mischiefmakerliesmith5 @gaiyofanfiction @lucyinthesunshinee

If you want to be added to either tag list just send me a reply to this post, and ask, or a DM and I’ll add you as soon as possible!

#nct #nct dream #nct u #marvel #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct u x reader #nct fics #nct dream fics #nct u fics #my writings #L&R

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lesserfandomappreciation · 4 years

Text

Hello hello! Thank you that’s really kind of you!!! I love your writing (congrats on Chap 9, it was awesome)!

Personally I am terrible at flirting or even understanding how it works, so I did my best with this. Hope it comes across as good!

This wound up longer than expected, whoops! Flirting with Self-conscious s/o ( Red Shoes and the 7 Dwarfs )

Arthur

Charm out the wazoo. Arthur’s boisterous personality combined with his a princely upbringing and deeply instilled ideas on what a knight should be have created an inherent need to be charming when he’s interested in someone. It can range from surprisingly smooth to over-the-top. He’s pretty good at coming up with them on the go too, responding to what may be an innocuous question with a decent line.

His lines come in three main forms.

Traditional knight/ye olde romantic keeping ideas of courtly wooing.

“May I join you, milady/milord?”

“Should you feel fear let me know. It’s a warrior’s duty to protect that which he treasures.”

Painfully, genuinely sweet lines that work only because he’s showing his real self and is not being over-the-top.

“Could I... hold your hand?”

Boasting: AKA showing off his muscles and hyping himself up (desperate moves he thankfully only rarely uses now thanks to his experience with Snow White)

The issue with all of these is that they come across as a bit fake or showy, as this type of flirting really isn’t for everyone. So a line missing when flirting with his self-conscious s/o is something he sort of expected. He doesn’t think it’s because they’re self-conscious, Arthur just thinks he messed up.

The way the self-consciousness manifests itself is going to change the way he reacts. For example, if they withdraw a lot, he’s going to think he really goofed it and is going to apologize, asking for clarification on what he did wrong so that he doesn’t do it again. That’s a very different reaction than if s/o were to bluntly tell him they didn’t believe him, leaving him dumbfounded.

The first reaction aside, Arthur would want to let them know he genuinely meant it, but his own lack of experience would really get in the way of that. How does he go about this? Him being him though, he would confront them directly about it and in that moment let his inner sweetheart shine as he makes it clear that he meant what he said.

If they want to explain why they feel that way about themselves, great he’ll listen, but even if they don’t he asks them to not speak about themselves that way. They’re too wonderful to be hateful towards themselves.

After that the prince makes it a point to compliment them every single day. It’s not even always flirting, it’s straight up compliments. Their smarts, their passions, their looks, their hands, their eyes - everything is free game, and he’s not going to stop giving sincere compliments until they get it through their heads he likes them for them for a reason, and they should too.

Pino

Stating facts about them counts as flirting, right? Cards on the table I don’t think Pino is really capable of flirting well, at least not on purpose. Yes, he’s mature and the eldest but that doesn’t necessarily equip him for the terrifying world that is interpersonal relationships outside of family. To even try to flirt takes a massive amount of pondering before he lets out a single word

His flirting, thus, is not so much flirting as it is:

A) stating things he likes about them/ Sort of.

“You are very smart. And strong. Strong and smart. Smrong.”

“You are a good size.”

B) complimenting them about something they did.

“Good job.”

“’You did good with that.”

C) Giving up and just staring silently trying to think of something to say. Anything. Come on brain you helped build a selfie machine surely stringing words together isn’t that hard.

That one video of Lin-Manuel Miranda chanting “Come on brain, think of things.”

D) Any of the above, only his brothers are there to be the world’s best worst okayest wingmen.

The thing is, is that with this style of flirting barely comes across as flirting. S/o or not, it is going to be very difficult for anyone to pick up on any of this as intentional romantic interest rather than Pino being... Pino. Most people would maybe register this as awkward platonic compliments, if even that. His insecure s/o’s self-consciousness may not kick in for a while until they figure out that this is Pino desperately trying to show intentions.

Someone give this man cue cards he’s hurting.

Actually no don’t do that his brothers might get ideas.

Despite this terrible inability to communicate romantic feelings, Pino does have one thing going for him. A stupid amount of emotional knowledge courtesy of keeping an eye on his brothers. Pino’s not dumb. When it comes to the people he really cares about he can get a good read on them. His s/o is no different.

Upon realizing that s/o, the same s/o he has been pining after for weeks of awkward semi-flirting, has self-conscious issues, Pino is baffled. Bamboozled. Confusioned. Setting his own feelings to the side, the eldest brother works up the nerve to tell them full throttle that they are awesome. He doesn’t know what they have been through, nor where the feelings come from, but he will not let this stand. He is a little curt and blunt, but the intent is there.

If his s/o says 1 tiny negative thing about themselves, he’s armed with something they cannot deny. Facts. Pino has been debating his brothers for years, he will make charts if he has to.

Noki

Constant non-stopping stream of compliments. Noki is what happens when a fidget spinner is outfitted with an energy-drink powered engine. Pino, Hans and Jack can only somewhat keep him from vibrating into another dimension, and that’s with their powers combined. When he has someone in his sights, that energy is re-focused on making his s/o feel like royalty.

Flirting is, if nothing else, absolutely amazing to witness in just how it is:

One constant stream of consciousness that results in compliment after compliment.

“That’s amazing, you’re amazing, that hat really suits you-”

“Your hair looks really nice today, though it usually looks nice every day-”

Painfully, unapologetically, sincerely sweet, gen-u-ine statements that could give anyone a bad case of sugar rush.

“Why wouldn’t I want to be here? I really like spending time with you, you’re a really fun person.”

“When you smile your noise gets all crinkly and it’s super cute, you’re like a kitten!”

Cheesy, horrible one-liners that were bad in high school then and are bad in current times now.

“Do you have a map? I keep getting lost in your eyes.”

^^^^ That’s as much as I’m writing on that, this stuff is painful.

The painful part in all of this is that Noki, being Noki, is going to have no flippin’ clue that his s/o is feeling about this until he starts paying very close attention to their reactions. Are they turning away from him because they are hiding a blush, or because they are hiding tears? Are they blushing and incoherent because he’s just that good, or because they have no idea how to respond, this is a new experience to them, someone please show them mercy and send help.

“Wait, you don’t believe me??? Why?!” Noki is not going to hide his bewilderment at all. This whole time he’s been flirting with them and they thought he was kidding??? He thought he was bad at this, not that they were going through some insecurities he may be encountering for the first time. He is going to sit down next to them, and s/o has about two seconds to decide whether or not they’re going to talk about it, because otherwise he is.

“You are amazing though! Everyone knows it! Snow White, Merlin, Sword-head, Hans, Jack, my brothers- we all know it! Do you think I could invent something that can possibly help this? You should have to go through life thinking badly of yourself when the world is a brighter place because of you! I-”

TBH I do not have room for the whole rant here, but essentially this would likely wind up with him confessing because this is painfully obvious.

By the end of this, he plans to make them blushy every single day until they see the them he sees, and beyond that too!

Kio

Shy sweetness that will punch you in the stomach when you least expect it. Oh you thought because he’s shyer and quieter than his brothers (and the entirety of the F7) that he isn’t capable of delivering some one-hit KOs using nothing but his words? You thought?! Pino is awkward but mature, Noki is a ball of constant validation, but Kio will use his reputation for shyness as an excuse to flirt out of the blue and then move on like nothing happened.

Personal touch may be awkward for him but verbally making his s/o a goober just like him is his secret to being confident with his words. His s/o is in for it.

Kio is a sneaky bastard who has the least range of flirtation (only 2 types really) but boy oh boy are they wildly different.

The supreme sweetness that Noki (most of the boys if we’re being honest) take notes on when they want to be sweet to their loved ones.

“That’s a new bracelet isn’t it? It’s really suits you, you make it look good.”

“All your expressions are lovely but when you smile, the whole world seems brighter.”

The, ah, spicy stuff that none of the F7 besides Pino know that he is capable of uttering. Pino has no proof and is going crazy trying to prove to the group that the youngest brother can be downright heated with his flirting.

“I could see you anywhere and be happy. Outside. Inside. In a house. In the bed. Especially the last one.”

“Your eyes are not the only part of you I could get lost in.”

Kio does not have the problem of not being clear in flirting. He’s not subtle. At all. As you’ve seen in some of the examples. The problem is that it can be a lot for a person to process, especially one that has self-consciousness issues. It really is out of the blue, which can throw the other person off when they’re not expecting it. Which is always.

Thankfully, he is the happy middle between Noki and Pino’s ability to sense that something is wrong. It does take him a bit to pick up on it, but eventually he puts two and two together to realize s/o really is reacting oddly. Not in that they’re shy, but that there’s an underlying issue. It does take him a while to talk about it though because he has no clue how to approach it. It’s not a subject he’s good at tackling.

The thought his s/o is going through this solo though does get him to gently pull them aside and ask them about it. He wants to know if it’s him overstepping into a very uncomfortable territory, if it’s specific things that trigger a certain response or if it’s something else entirely. Kio is a good listener, and mentally remembers a lot of notes for the next time he wants to compliment them.

Very much makes it a point to let them know that hey, he likes them for them, and that yes, he is going to continue to give specific compliments their way because he adores them and they are worth it.

#Red Shoes and the 7 Dwarfs #rsat7d #imagine

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sparklingpax · 4 years

Text

Rambles about TFP Megatron

This is opinionated, based on speculation (is that the right word??) and memories of episodes and moments in books. Please don’t be offended and get angry at me. I’m literally writing whatever comes to mind about this. Also sorry if none of it makes any real sesnes; again, these are my thoughts as they come so those tend to be incoherent and,,,,,unconnected?? Idk um

So scroll along if you’re not interested but here I go :’D

///

I feel like I might get bashed for this (or not) but I really feel like Megatron in TFP is a tortured, misunderstood, haunted soul and I’m on his side as much as I am on the Autobots’ side.

Idk some people think he’s evil just because and has no redeeming factors but I really really beg to differ,,,, (no im not inviting debate because I get too scared of arguing with people I respect everyone’s opinions so I’m not trying to impose this one!)

He isn’t justified in the things he’s done, the many he has made to die, nor is he justified in any way for the physical and/or mental abuse of others, the top example being Starscream. However, I think we should point fingers at the initial corruption back on Cybertron, right after the whole “golden age.”

There’s really no one else to blame except the corrupt leaders who put the caste system into being. If it had not been so, Megatron would have never been born as D-16, an unknown and unimportant energon miner with no real future other than eventual, imminent death. He has a right to be as angry as he was, and as ready and willing to kill and overthrow that governmennt.

He took it too far, is all I have to say.

That’s also the difference that led to Orion and Megatronus falling out of friendship and “brotherhood,” as well as the whole ‘not being named a Prime but Orion was’ thing. Optimus felt the same way--though you have to acknowledge that even he could not understand fully and truly the anger Megatron had felt. Orion Pax had never known being worth absolutely nothing, and having no prospects or future. He was a scholar, gifted with knowledge and a job. He was not a higher-up, of course, so he was not exempt from feeling frustration at the limitations of his particular caste. But I think that’s also what gave Orion the ability to see the whole thing through a more level-headed gaze.

And that’s where it also isn’t fair to Megatron. How can you blame him for only having rage? He didn’t have a middlle-ground place like Orion did. He only had the “short end of the stick” his whole life.

So....um......I rambled and I’m not really sure where any of this was meant to go. I actually only inteded to write maybe one or two sentences but um now it’s all this. ^^’’’

Again, I’m not inviting debate because debating and arguing makes me really,,,,really nervous. I’m just having some thoughts..and I can totally understand the valid reasons people have to not feel that Megatron is a good character at all, and that he doesn’t have a real motive and is simply just “evil.” I respect that. I disagree, but I see your points ^//^

Just been thinking about this stuff lately, been watching episodes of TFP, reading the novels again....I really do feel bad for him, even though I am aware that what he did was wrong. I can’t help but feel like I should defend him, at least laying out the reasoning he had--though flawed in the end--and how he felt to give a little perspective.

And one final thing, if you wish to make a claim that his anger about being a slave is not real, and that he uses it as some sort of twisted “card to play” as a justification, just wanna bring this up. You’ve see the movie right? Regardless of whether you think it was a good or bad movie (I really enjoyed it but thats just me ^^’’) there’s a part at the end where Megatron says the Decepticon cause is finished, and that because he now knows the “true meaning of oppression” he no longer wants to inflict it on others. There are probably other ways to interpret this, but the way I see it is that he really may have lost himself a little when fighting the war. But being possessed and commanded by Unicron woke that up again. He’d been in command for so long, he himself forgot how much a leader could hurt their own troops, or what it felt like to be stepped over--to be hurt and insulted because you cannot do anything about it. When he tries to fight back against Unicron, it’s not because of the petty reasons of simply “wanting the power” or hating not being in charge, but I think he was enraged at being seen as a slave again. Something he’d fought a war for millenia to ensure never happened again--to him or anyone else.

And I think he also finally re-understood the last part of that statement.

That’s why when he was freed, he ended the war right then and there, and left--never to be heard from again.

I have no proof for these statements really, but I think it was purely guilt at having forgotten this war was not just about his own anger at injustice, but also to fight for the others who also felt as he did--his other, fellow Decepticons.

This is not really to say he is sorry for how he treated some of them, since he is a problematic dude and has his own reasons he’ll stick to if confronted about what he did to, say, Starscream or Starscream’s seekers when he tried to get Starscream to fear him. Or the many vehicons he didn’t care a single bit about. But I think the key is that he did change as a character--because he finally understood.

He now has more perspective, and I think that’s why he isn’t really “just an evil character” who “has no real cause,” but someone who suffered so much and then had nowhere to go or anyone to really look to for help or guidance when his rage was handed a sword and hundreds of followers. Given his background, what else could he have done but lead them all forward in a fight?

He really didn’t start the physical war himself, either. But he took it on as his responsibility and obligation to fight.

Even Optimus--or Orion, at the time--his first and only friend that he pushed away, could never understand. No one but his fellow decpticons, especially the ones from the lower ranks, would ever understand the true essance of the cause of being “Decepticons.”

Though he was bullshitting Optimus when he gave the reason for the name, I feel like at the same time, that was what he genuinely believed--that the cause of Decepticons and his fighting this war was branded as wrong and their beliefs were all lies. Megatron probably, deep in his spark, felt that if such things were branded as “lies” when they are really the truth, then he was proud to wear such a badge.

And when he ended the cause, I think what he meant was that he was ending his involvement in it, for he himself had failed to uphold what Decepticons really stood for through all the murder and oppression he caused, blinded by his emotions. Therefore, the only sensible, just thing to do was to leave. To go somewhere else. Whether he hoped someone else would lead them or not, we will truly never know and I have no intention to make any guess to that. Only Megatron himself could tell us that.

Both Megatron and the decepticons were not justifiied in the things they did, but if you can at least take in why they did those things, maybe you won’t dismiss them as simply “bad guys for the sake of being bad” and understand that they had a story too...

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its-chelisey-stuff · 4 years

Text

Love and Redemption, eps 21-30 (more thoughts... and tears)

Don’t talk to me *wipes tear away* Please... I just need a moment to gather my thoughts to be a fully functional human again.

...Okay, it’s not going to work, I can’t do it. Let’s just proceed with this. Beware, this may be more of an incoherent mess than anything else.

Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. That’s exactly how I would describe these episodes, despite the fluff I got for like an episode and a half (if we do the math, it was minimmal, and basically all the time we got with real beautiful moments and no one hurting except for Linglong who was and still is in a coma). Omfg if I’m already like this how can I possibly do the second half of this drama? Think about it, my fave genre is romcom! I have no business here! NONE.

I’m trying to wrap my head around the fact that episode 21 started on shaky grounds but it wasn’t a shitshow and then eveything got serious and ultimately real bad and by ep 23 I was screaming like a crazy woman,out of my senses, watching my Sifeng getting tortured! And then came that freaking whip! Like, what the fuck, man? How did this turn so bad so fast? And btw these leaders from the so called “good and righteous” sects can go and take their precious rules and values and shove them up right where the sun don’t shine! *The Untamed flashbacks intensify* I cannot deal with your kind and your hypocrisy a second time. And stay the fork away from Sifeng!

I was so happy that his master from the Lize sect appeared (and of course by that point I already knew the Deputy Chief wasn't going to lift a finger to save Sifeng, not bc he's bad big shocker but bc I think he genuinely dislikes him) spoke with reason, got everything solved in 2 minutes and saved his favorite disciple.

CAN PEOPLE/DEMONS/DEITIES AND ANYONE AND ANYTHING ELSE PLESASE STOP HURTING, TORTURING OR TRYING TO KILL SIFENG? Because, thanks, that’d be very much appreciated. For like a week, jeez, maybe even a month! And Xuanji, baby, I adore you, but you were also part of the problem and because this drama is out to get me, and if the clues from the past (her heavenly past not her past tribulations) are anything to go by, you will keep being part of the equation.

You know things are bad when the demon fox I disliked a dozen of eps ago and didn’t see for just as long, is now like in my top 5 favorite characters right beside Sifeng’s annoying pet (and only because she has always Sifeng’s back), the merman doctor, the comatose Linglong and my OTP. The stinky monkey whom I don’t know very well, blond guy from the heavenly realm and fanfiction writer who always says perfectly sane things, are high on the list, not gonna lie. All the others can go to hell, and hey, a couple of them, including Minyan, are already there, so, am I winning or what? I’m so proud to say I didn’t like him much from the beginning and if he ever gets forgiven I hope he works his ass off for it. Objectively he didn’t do anything so bad, he was worried about the others and trying to save Linglong but still, he gets on my nerves. Let’s not talk about Sifeng’s Lize friend. okay? Okay.

Okay, deep breaths, deep breaths, I can do this.

I clapped and cheered watching this!

So, the love story keeps moving. I mean, I do have to look at the bright side and take as win the fact that Xuanji gained her whole 6 senses back and recognizes her love for Sifeng. I didn’t like, however, that Sifeng was the only one who got to see their past lives, not bc I wanted Xuanji to suffer but because I didn’t want my dude to watch that awfulness alone. Or maybe I’m just being picky because I cried on ep 27. Their love may not be a tender and very healthy love story, but it's freaking epic, even more so if we take into account that I think they really weren't "meant" to be together, because it's obvious destiny is not on their side. And yet!!! Yet Sifeng keeps falling for her, sacrificing himself and doing anything for this woman.

*Sigh* Still, how is it possible to feel like I got to know a bit more about Xuanji’s romantic past on the Heavenly realm but I still don’t know where is Sifeng in there. That magical marriage stone shone over Xuanji and Dijun (eww but she shut down all rumors immediately hehe) and fanfiction writer keeps saying they were a match made in heaven or whatever. But Dijun being the pathethic dumbass he is, is unable to recognize love (or feelings) even if they dance in front of him with a huge sign written in neon letters. The dude gets so jealous he makes huge ass storms and nobody in heaven besides fanfic writer notices shit. wtf? What kind of God is he, anyway? God of Pettiness? He really does get more on my nerves than the demon bad guys.

This is how they call it when the God of War found out the truth? Interesting way to say she was angry.

Is it? LOL

The story fanfic writer told blond guy is that God of War thought that since she was matched or whatever with Dijun they were going to marry but douchebag married someone else and God of War killed the father of this woman(don’t know why). Again, where is Sifeng in that story? Could it be that this has been a one sided love for a thousand years but in this tenth life Xuanji has finally loved him back? Because damnnnnnn that's perseverance. No means no, of course, but the guy never really forced anything on her or asked for much, we saw it in their past lives, he was there to risk it all, do it all for her. Only asking for her to remember him. A tiny thing by comparison.

Sifeng is a demon. Sifeng is a demon! Sifeng is a demon??? But...how? why? was he one in the other lives? What is going on, drama? Give me answers!!!! That effing whip they used on him was supposed to reveal a demon after one slash,right? but that didn't happen. The heck?!

PS. I continue to be amazed by the acting. By the whole cast, really, but especially Cheng Yi’s and Crystal’s. The way that I believed they were different people in the other lives...!!! Xuanji’s eyes devoid on any warm and tenderness, like the way we’re used to... and when Sifeng took the sword for Xuanji and she cried... it was delicious to watch.

#love and redemption #cdrama #cheng yi #crystal yuan #yuan bingyan #save me please #this drama hurts

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crimson-snowfall · 5 years

Text

Ikemen Vampire: Language of Flowers - Isaac

Flower: Crimson Polyanthus

Meaning/Symbolism: The heart’s mystery

Word Count: 1576 (mildly NSFW)

In the world of Isaac Newton, if something cannot be explained by logic, then perhaps it best to steer clear of it. The universe holds a never-ending amount of secrets that’s just waiting to be unraveled, and through mankind’s conglomeration of knowledge, Isaac believes that in due time, humanity will arrive on a logical explanation to even the most perplexing things on the contemporary.

Thus, Isaac has made it his purpose in life to discover and understand as many as possible of the universe’s unknowns, and consequently, he would rather not dwell on things where logic seems to be rather inapplicable or inconsistent most of the time… such as human interactions and emotions.

However, when all is said and done, no matter how Isaac may try to close off himself from his others and his emotions, the saying that “no man is an island” remains applicable to him, and no amount of suppression can ever deny that the emotion called “love” are among the many emotions that exist within him.

Delving deeper onto the topic of love… just like all other emotions, Isaac used to think of it as a product of biochemical reactions, and trying to go further than that just makes everything complicated. He specializes in physics for a good reason, so he thought the topic of love and other emotions are best left at the hands of experts who are actually interested. Frankly speaking, Isaac just can’t imagine himself being ever involved with another being so much to the point that the he’ll ever be interested with the mystery of love and other emotions.

And for the entirety of his human life and a good few years of his life as a vampire, that had been the case– until you came along.

Now everything is a mess, and destiny is having Isaac experience first hand this emotion that baffles him so much, which he considers the most illogical and subjective emotion there is. It’s not one of those things where he can just go like, “maybe if I ignore it, it will eventually go away.”

No. Just no. And it drives him nuts.

Isaac realized that until he has this emotion called “love” figured out at least, then he can’t go on normally with his academic pursuits, because nowadays can’t think of anything else but you, you, you. Your smile, the sound of your laughter, and even the scent of your hair haunts him even in his dreams. He was also dead wrong in thinking that perhaps confessing his love and entering an established relationship with you would wash away a little the sense of novelty that has him so excitable over every single thing you do, because if anything, things just took a turn for the worse and you always leave him acting like a love-struck, hormonal teenager.

You found Isaac sulking on the library, obviously frustrated over the complicated set of theorems he’s been working on for months now. He may not have realized it himself, but your lover has been eating a little less lately, so you brought him something to snack on.

“Isaac, I brought you something to eat.” You set down the plate over the closest spot on the table that wasn’t covered with reference materials. Isaac was caught a little off guard by your sudden appearance that he jolted a little from his seat. Perhaps giving him a tender smile after witnessing that wasn’t the best idea after all, because now he looks like he’s about to have a heart attack, his emotions rapidly shifting from that of surprise to love.

“I’m sorry Isaac, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” and with that, the blush on his face is probably now from embarrassment over you apologizing for something like that.

What a ride, Isaac thought. Can he even go a single interaction with you without having to ride this roller coaster of emotions? He couldn’t form any coherent thoughts in the interval it took him to calm down his emotions, and by the time he had composed himself, you figured that it’s best if you leave him be for now, since the teasing can always be saved for the night.

But just as soon as you had declared your intention to leave, a hand firmly held yours, halting you in your tracks. “N-no. Stay here… don’t go.”

“Are you sure, Isaac? Wouldn’t my presence here be too distracting for you?” Isaac looked away, cursing his inability to hide how much of a mess his emotions are when it comes to you. You felt yourself being tugged down, and the next thing you know, you were sitting on Isaac’s lap, his arms around your waist, his face buried on your chest.

“I don’t mind… no, I don’t even care anymore about what I was doing… j-just…” he trailed off, mumbling incoherently as he pressed his face harder on the comforting softness of your chest.

“Isaac? I’m afraid I can’t understand what you’re trying to say. Or are you trying to emphasize that you love my breasts that much?” Isaac abruptly brought up his head, but when he saw that smile on your face, he thought he might as well just go with the flow. He rested his chin back on top of your breasts but kept his gaze averted.

“That’s not what I was trying to say... but y-yes, I do l-love your b-breasts.”

“Oh, is that so?” The teasing smile that graced your lips is one of Isaac’s guilty pleasures. Under normal circumstances, being teased irritates him to no end, and such is the case with Arthur and Dazai. So just what the hell is it about your smile? Not only does it dispel his aversion towards being teased… but it does a terribly good job at making him aroused.

Isaac finally met your gaze, but only for a short while, before you’re consumed in a flurry of kisses that started with your lips, and ended with buttons flying off your blouse as Isaac ravaged your soft breasts. You did well stifling your moans, but the great physicist doesn’t like that. Isaac may be an introvert, but he sure likes it loud and lively when it comes to you– and he will stop at nothing just to get you chant his name like a passionate prayer for salvation.

“You shouldn’t have bothered with the snacks if you were coming here yourself,” was all he said before leading you off to the most secluded part of the library. You knew that Isaac had a lifetime’s worth of unattended sexual desires, but you weren’t expecting having sex with him outside a bedroom this early into your relationship, and in the library no less. Still, it was a pleasant surprise, so you didn’t mind at all as he pinned you against a sturdy bookshelf.

“You know, I’ve thought about it over and over,” his words were hushed as he spoke in between the downpour of kisses and bites he’s raining down your neck and shoulders, “but darling…” a finger help up your chin so that his unwavering and lust-filled gaze locked with yours, “just why do I love you so?”

Without waiting for your answer, he sealed your lips with his as he made quick work of hoisting up and spreading your legs, before he finally allowed his body to do the talking. Isaac has yet to learn everything about being gentle, and before long his name filled the room in lustful moans that were just as erratic and needy as his thrusts… just the way he likes it.

Isaac apologized over and over again as you helped him return the books he had borrowed to the shelves. For starters, your blouse was missing a couple of buttons, and while it wasn’t so obvious, anyone with an observant eye would notice that there’s something quite off about the way you walk.

“Come on, stop apologizing Isaac. We had a great time, didn’t we?” You pulled him in a hug as you finished shelving the last book. He sighed in exasperation.

“Great? What’s so great about walking weird?” Isaac returned your embrace as he regarded you with concern.

“Hmmm… maybe you can think of it as proof that you’ve loved me oh-so-passionately today?”

Your retort earned you a perplexed look, but as much as you take pleasure in teasing your lover, you can tell from the moment you walked in the library that he’s suffering again with his thoughts. So you wracked your mind and came up with some words of comfort, something that would at least take him off his worries.

“Isaac, I know you would probably disagree but, I think not all mysteries are meant to be understood. Some mysteries obtain their charm by remaining a mystery, and when faced with a mystery like that… well, you just have to enjoy it. I’m not an expert on love myself, but I believe that’s just the kind of mystery love is.”

Isaac looked as though something had dawned on him, before his expression returned to that of concern. He took your hand and kissed the puncture wounds he had left, before conceding, at least for that day. “Well, if you say so. I’m still not fully convinced, but I guess…” he looked away as though finding the right words, then looked back at you with a genuine smile,

“I guess I’ll take you up on enjoying this warm, happy feeling.”

Whew the bias really shows, and yeah this is definitely going to be longest one in this fic series. Isaac is my best boy and I’m so looking forward to his route release on the EN server . Oh and btw, Happy Valentines everyone! Hope you’re all having a great day~

More on this series: [[Napoleon]] [[Mozart]] [[Leonardo]] [[Arthur]] [[Vincent]] [[Theodorus]] [[Dazai]] [[Jean]] [[William]] [[Comte de Saint Germain]] [[Sebastian]] [[Vlad]]

#ikemen vampire #ikemen series #ikevamp #ikevamp isaac #ikemen vampire isaac #ikevamp language of flowers #ikevamp fanfic #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic

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ikemen-matchups · 4 years

Text

@oikame

hello there~! of course i’ve decided to come in and see what you’d have for me~ do you mind me asking for a mlqc match-up, please? i’m curious to see what you’d say! you already know a lot about me, but i’m gonna leave the incoherent ton of info anyway, pff— i’m sorry it turned out so longish—

heterosexual gemini female, isfp, slytherin & chaotic neutral. my style is edgy, but leaning towards casual, too. i like interesting accessories, details and aesthetics!

many people say that my initial vibe is pretty intimidating, or at least reserved and mysterious. though, around my friends i am more relaxed and chill, and love to laugh and crack jokes! i also tease a lot~.

but i am, in fact, a reserved person — it takes me quite some time to open up about my honest feelings and to trust someone. that makes me quite a hermit; i’m on good or neutral terms with many people, but i have just a handful of friends i consider close.

i can be lazy and uninterested, but when something piques my interest or when i’m challenged, i can be a very, very stubborn one! i’m opinionated, but i always try to see a bigger picture and imagine the story from different angles — in that way, i consider myself a very realistic person. i used to be more confrontational in the past, and these days i’m more passive. i try to be tolerant, but i can also get annoyed and irritated easily. i am a ‘forgive but don’t forget’ type of person.

i’m extremely curious and have wide palette of interests, some of which are medicine, botany, arts, astronomy, astrology, and such. i love to explore and learn, and i like activities like hiking. spiritual topics are also my thing, and i simply love to think and wonder. i may like to bake, but the domestic jobs in general aren’t my jam. i also get bored very easily!

i like to be helpful, and my self-worth is defined by being useful or making other smile, so i like giving gifts to my friends, even if it’s just buying them their favourite chocolate bar or so. that ‘giving’ trait of mine is not quite well known, though, and i suppose that it is because of my initial personality that people consider me rather selfish and self-centred instead.

my love language is definitely physical touch, along with giving gifts or acts of service. i’m pretty much touch starved — i will kiss, hug, even bite someone shamelessly and out of endearment ( i can be the tough love kind ). in those terms, i’m more of a ‘actions speak louder than words’ person, as i find it embarrassing and shallow to say 'i love you’ often or too soon. i will be poetically affectionate, though.

in terms of romantic interests and relationships, i’m someone who appreciates communication, trust and intellectual bond along with the physical one. i’m also not a fan of people who are uncertain in terms of their feelings or are unreliable as partners.

i hope this is okay? thank you very much in advance and take your time with this~!

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hey! sorry for the wait !! but, hopefully it’ll be worth it.

also, no worries on how much you send in; it gives me a lot to work with & i appreciate you spending the time to do so. i’m so excited to match you up; i hope you like your matchup ! ;’) before moving on, i just want to say your writing is so amazing & i got inspired by you to do this blog in the first place. much love for you ! without further ado …

˚✶⋆｡˚☆ﾟ✦

i match you up with … 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍 !!

not gonna lie, i had such a tough time deciding between shaw & lucien, and ultimately lucien won out in the end. i know shaw is your favorite, but i feel like lucien would end up being such a great match with you.

(even though he’s a scorpio to your gemini) !

anyway, the whole vibe of your personality seems like it’d mesh well with lucien– i wish i could have a straightforward reason as to why, but here are just my thoughts!

lucien is canonly a genius, so i without doubt believe that he’s a slytherin-ravenclaw mix in terms of house, and that’d honestly pair well with your slytherin house.

not to go too much in depth about this small factor, but … with this match, i feel there’s nothing in world that can stop you both as that dynamic duo … your bright minds & perspectives bring a whole new level to anything you set your eyes on.

since both of your ambitious & clever personalities will mesh well, you guys become a total power couple. you support & encourage each other’s success whilst working hard to do better.

you’ll become equals, and probably will push each other to be your best selves- i feel you’ll always be learning from each other & that’s huge for relationships.

onto personality, seeing that you both are more the introverted types; trust is a major factor. it’s something that is earned over time and you both attest to that fact.

i feel you guys will initially be guarded around each other given that you both don’t trust easily. however, once you guys bestow trust in each other … not to be trite but that trust literally cannot be broken. you will both be so so loyal to each other & it will be so wholesome??

the kind of loyalty that’s like top tier-

in your relationship, you guys stress the small details, and those small acts of kindness toward one another is most definitely appreciated by both parties. whether it be something as simple as refilling tea or something as grandiose as a homemade gift or maybe even homemade cooking, you both want each other to be happy.

anyway, lucien will be intrigued by your mysterious & reserved personality. perhaps in passing, he’ll be aware of how onlookers regard you as intimidating or maybe even standoffish. but like with anything, he knows there’s more to people than meets the eye. he dismisses the rumors, and will see for himself what you are like. in turn, he will see you as someone he’d want to get to know beyond face value.

and boy, he won’t regret it.

your genuine kind personality becomes endearing to him. he thinks it’s so admirable how selfless you are; it kind of stuns him how you strive to make others happy without asking anything in return or having an ulterior motive. and on top of that, your kindness is genuine; you aren’t putting on a facade?? he’s lowkey amazed & also intrigued by that fact. on that note, lucien is hella observant, so you better believe that he takes note of this helpful & kind trait of yours right away.

he studies people, which, as a result, i think his interest will be piqued by your overall kind but sometimes very stubborn demeanor (he finds this side of you absolutely adorable though). but then he will come to terms to the fact you’re not someone who he should just observe, but rather someone he should get to know without this overly thinking & observing mindset of his?? if that makes sense.

he might loosen up is what i’m trying to say- which isn’t something he’s used to i don’t think.

so… you’re looking for an intellectual bond? who better than lucien? i feel you both will never tire of having conversation and perhaps banter with one another; conversation just flows easily, due to your wide array of interests & his seemingly bottomless pit of knowledge. i feel like given both your big-brain personalities, you guys could have intellectual repartee or just stimulating conversations about anything.

you could talk about astronomy to botany to arts– anything – and lucien will always have something to add to fuel your mind. even with that fact, hearing your perspective is quite important to lucien; it may not appear like he does, but trust me, he’ll take it in with that gentle smile on his face.

he loves it when you get excited about these topics. your passion for learning about a myriad of topics is riveting. and also infectious??

seeing that you get easily bored, lucien will go out of his way to be up-to-date with the topics that particularly interests you, and he’ll be down to do any of those things.

like, hiking dates ?? he’ll be down & will be so prepared for anything that may occur. he’ll research the best places for hiking with the perfect scenic view.

in fact, you’ll probably be a little shocked as to how considerate & thoughtful he can be when it comes to you. he doesn’t do those kind of things if he doesn’t adore you just sayin !

also, intellectual debates between you two that turn into outright flirting? that’s definitely a thing. lucien has a teasing side if i can recall correctly, so … the prospect of him trying to fluster you with his wording?? oh, it happens, and you’ll probably be like “game on” & so, it just becomes a competition who can fluster each other the most !! or something along those lines.

ngl, some people will be amazed at how you guys seem to never tire of excitedly relaying or debating information. but they have to give it to you guys; learning & attaining knowledge is a normal thing for you. after all, there’s boundless of things to learn-

you both delve into the more deep talks as well– even if it’s an ungodly hour. i don’t think you guys know a sleep schedule tbh? nonetheless, you probably both accept this fact & enjoy each other’s company immensely.

anyway- those late-night conversations just hit different, and i can imagine you’re just talking to each other like there’s no one else in the world.

furthermore, lucien will be more vulnerable at this hour, and maybe more touchy-feely when it’s just the two of you who are up. he probably realizes this, but he can’t help it. you’re just so precious to him; can’t keep his hands to himself when you’re right there !!

he definitely will sate your touch-starved needs especially at night to early early morning. he especially likes to observe the reactions he evokes by doing so, and he’ll quickly pinpoint your weak points (or even ticklish spots–). lucien your mischievous side is showing.

your smiles, your giggles, your laughs, your cute face when you’re stubbornly trying to prove your point … it’s everything- he just lives for your adorable reactions (even if he teases you).

generally, he’s not big on pda, but i have a feeling that if he’s feeling somewhat possessive of you, he’ll be quick to show off how you’re taken vis a vis a knowing kiss on the lips or an obvious wrap around your waist to keep you to him. his actions honestly vary based on how much he’s feeling jealous-

in the end, however, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. he’ll try to keep his jealous urges at bay- but at the same time, he has a protective streak.

to conclude, you’re a great match together given your personalities & interests & passions !! you’ll honestly be that couple where people will go “oh yeah that makes sense” because you’re literally, as mentioned before, a power couple. since there’s no such thing as perfection, there -perhaps- will be some bumps in the road with things like miscommunication & such, but you both end up making up & become stronger than before. there’s so much potential for you both in this relationship & i stan for it all.

possible runner-ups:

shaw

victor

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— lily ! ♡

#mlqc matchup #mlqc matchups #mr love queen's choice matchup #mr love queen's choice matchups #submission #ask box #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #lucien #lucien mlqc #oikame #ikemen matchups #ikemen matchup

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mayrubyy · 5 years

Text

Clouded (m)

➻ Pairing - Chanyeol x Reader

➻ Genre - Angst

➻ Word Count - 4.4k

➻ Rating - (M) | Masterlist | Status - Ongoing

Warning! this contains mature and angst themes. (don't worry nobody's going to die) but please don’t read if you’re not comfortable with the said themes and if you’re under 18.

also, I want to thank @yeoldotcom for being a sweetheart and helping me out whilst working on this series. Go show Zee some love! ♡

☾ Part One

Every time he hooked his arm around and told you ‘love wasn’t real’ you believed it. He was right─ love cannot be real and so you agreed. Until you realized how wrong all of this was. He didn’t believe in love and neither did you. Yet, every time his lips pressed into yours, it gave you the kind of rush nobody else could. Even when your heart was broken, he was there to help you heal and piece it back together. So much for mending it until he earned the privilege to shred it back to pieces again. His crooked smile before he left you without a trace, his words gnawing at your heart like venom seeping through you, slowly killing every fiber of your fragile being.

He warned you and it was true.

Love was never easy with Park Chanyeol─ it was nothing but a clouded mess of emotions, mercilessly fogging up your heart and your mind in the worst possible ways with no escape.

And turns out, it wasn’t real all along, just like he had told you from the very beginning.

“How conflicting,” you gasped under your breath, digging your balled fists into the large pockets of your–his–hoodie. Oversized and fluffy, its purpose was to keep you warm in this cloudy and damp hour, not remind you of him.

“Get out of my head. Ugh.“

If you earned a penny every time he crossed your mind, you wouldn’t be standing here sulking like a pigeon. Do pigeons sulk? They do look paranoid but they are very adaptable, aren’t they? They could be working undercover for all we know, you however, were struggling.

Your best friend was taking too long to return with your drinks. Should have helped yourself, you chew on your bottom lip as you cross your arms to fight the cold weather and its thoughts that were sweeping around you. It was him who was eager and bent upon stopping by 7-Eleven, a major excuse to catch, in his words ‘a quick glimpse’ of his crush who worked there. Moreover, the word ‘crush’ in your head, wasn’t so uplifting.

Rainy days like these, oddly enough, resonated with things you strongly felt about. Your emotions gusting through the wind and your feelings like raindrops dripping down the foggy panes. The thumping of your heart was loud against your chest and your eyes were on the ground watching the stream of rainwater gushing and coursing down the road against the sidewalk. If anything, you wished the pain got washed away along with it.

Was it comforting? In some ways, yes, maybe because it felt like nature knew you, that perhaps it was genuinely listening to you, unlike the rest. The silent wailing within you was hopelessly awaiting its turn to expose itself– making you believe it came in the form of thunder.

The thunderstorm was your ultimate white noise, the one you relied on, always doing a good job at drowning your incessant thoughts away, down into an abyssal corner within your waning threshold, the one you thought you created for your own good, a space where you held the darkest of your secrets, all perfectly sealed in one place.

You had your flaws, it wasn’t like you could declare them to the world. Nobody cares anyway, right? So, what were you before this? It got rubbed into your face plenty of times. “Things aren’t always what they seem”. The same old warnings. “You can never let your guard down”.

Bullshit.

The idea of falling in love, as dreamy as it may sound, very well was planted somewhere in the back of your head that had its own untold glitches. As you grew up, you came to realize the world wasn’t innocent. After the many heartbreaks you’ve seen your friends have and especially after dealing with one yourself– love was starting to fade from view, like a toxin that needs to be labeled with several warnings everywhere.

It was delusional enough to fancy that on a warm summer’s day, conversely, you were going to be head over heels for that certain someone. Things like that happen only in fairy tales for crying out loud, not in real life. But merely being aware isn’t always enough, either. It’s never enough to be quite honest.

The pain and hurt would come for you sooner or later in life. It was universal.

Sure you were aware but, him? You couldn’t tell if you were cynically chuckling to yourself for believing you were never going to fuck up or quietly bawling your eyes out trying to erase him from your mind as you stood by yourself on the pavement in the heavy rain.

At first, it was painful, gnawing at your heart like it was going to kill you. Now? It was more or less a kind that ripples, warning you subliminally, floating beyond your spectrum of understanding. There’s this uncertain feeling like you’re not able to decide. Isn’t that what everyone’s been warning you about?

This awful disease called love?

You lift your heels up, balancing your frail body on your toes out of boredom or rather to give yourself a break from all the incoherent babbling in your head that won’t stop.

“Sorry for taking long”.

His voice brings you back on your feet. “Watch your step, Y/N. You don’t want to slip and fall into those puddles,” he added, concern floating in his eyes as he hands you a steaming cup of coffee.

“That would be painful and..embarrassing”.

It wasn’t like you were clumsy or anything. Embarrassing is fine but pain? What could possibly hurt more than having the person you loved unconditionally to desolate you like this? Definitely not the cold hard ground.

“Ah don’t worry about it, Kyungsoo,” your voice came out unusually hoarse, considering you hadn’t been speaking much lately, the scratchy tone didn’t surprise you.

Clearing your throat you watch him waving back at his crush in the store. His cheeks had turned a warm shade of pink and his face was gleamingly radiant, unlike the gloomy weather. His glasses were attracting steam from the coffee– fogging his vision and making him take them off to wipe the condensed frame with a sigh. Your best friend was adorable, you know, the dorky kind of adorable.

You were glad to have him around. To help you out of this wrenching lovesick of a voyage, being the emotional klutz you were, he kept you from straying away and suffering all by yourself and he never really seemed to be complaining. Kyungsoo offered you all the support you needed but inevitably, it didn’t fill the empty space that lingered in the depths of your heart, a certain space that desperately longed for someone.

A space that could never be replaced.

The warmth from your own cup begins to seep through your palms, bringing the rim to your lips, you take a whiff of the beverage and for a moment, you halt your breathing, the strong aroma infused with caffeine wafts through your nose, implacably threatening to burst open the floodgates you’d so struggled to seal.

The clouded memory of him returning to you.

“Isn’t this your fifth one?!”.

“I need to finish this song,” mumbling in his husky voice he makes a plea, “please”.

His long fingers busily tapping keys, going back and forth between using the mouse and adjusting something on the audio mixer. His composure was unswerving as he glided on his chair from one instrument to the other.

For a brief second, he had his tongue out, wetting his lips, eyes unwaveringly fixed on the screen. You couldn’t help taking your eyes off him as he swallowed, watching his adam’s apple bob slightly. Swiveling in your direction, you hear him rasp, “just one more”. He was drumming his knees now, giving you his signature puppy look, amusing you more.

“You might get a heart attack silly,” a soft chuckle erupts from you. “Too much caffeine is never good, Yeol”. Your eyes scan the freezer and you’re baffled by the amount of Iced Americano(s) all perfectly lined and stocked in his mini-fridge. God, he’s addicted. He simply couldn’t get enough of it, could he? You can see why. This probably answered your question to his hyperactive self and the plausible conclusion to why he keeps rushing to pee every odd god wilding hour.

Maybe a second has passed, you’re not sure, you peer back to his side and all you see is him casually springing up from his chair, towards you. There’s nothing but silence except for your own muffled breathing and he’s dangerously closing the gap, squishing you to a corner. You feel his hoodie press into your soft arms, his knee scraping against the bare of your thigh as he helps himself through the door and reaches for his favorite drink in the fridge.

“You were saying?” he quips while his hand slithers from between your arm and your waist, amorously in fact, for a straw in a holder that was on the shelf behind you. A quiet yelp falls from your lips as his hand caresses its way back out and the next thing you know, he’s looking into your eyes, popping the straw in and saying, “sip it”.

“Come on”.

The tip of the straw was now aligned to your lips and his knee pressing into your inner thigh wasn’t helping the tension that was compellingly building between you two. “Has the sugar gotten to your head, Park?” you pierce your eyes back into his. Except, he doesn’t budge, his lips conceitedly curl into a smirk instead. Seeming utterly unfazed, hovering his huge self over you, he leans closer.

“I believe I said,” with his gaze undeteringly much sharper than before, he repeats himself, “sip”.

Fuck, he was rude.

Who was he to order you around like this anyway? He was many things– a giant baby? a fluffy human? an incredibly talented man? His collection of Rilakkumas and his Nick Wilde sheets screaming furry for fuck’s sake.

Chanyeol was all things but your boyfriend.

“What if I don’t?” you chirp prodding your finger into his chest. Proving him wrong that you weren’t the only one affected by the proximity. Looking down at you, watching you wantonly drag your finger down his torso, he quirks an eyebrow.

“Playing, are we?”.

What exactly was he getting at? He was the one towering over you. He was the one forcing the cold metal straw against your lips. He was the one further pushing himself into you, practically pinning you against the shelf. All you did was a small nudge and look at him go.

“Look who’s talking,” you taunt as your palms land on him, smoothing over his chest. Feeling his chiseled frame through the hoodie you bite your lip, quite wishing it was off so you could feel the real stuff that was hiding underneath the fabric instead. You were quick to run your fingers up his broad shoulders, maybe he liked your ministration a little too much. Maybe it helped him release all the stiffness he procured from spending all night in his studio.

“Fuck, do that again–,” a string of hissing and groaning followed. Chanyeol was definitely liking the digging of your thumbs into the blades of his shoulders. Resting your fingers around his nape, you ran them up, feeling his hair brushing against them faintly before trailing back down. You then began drawing circles with the ends of your thumb into the crevices above his collarbone earning another satisfied groan from him.

The look on his face was so captivating, his head was flung back and the strong desire to want to kiss him was slowly creeping up your mind. Should have just listened to him and sipped the goddamned coffee. You were now more than intrigued with how exposed his neck was to you. Why did he have to be so attractive? You were so enraptured by him like he had cast some enchanting spell on you. You knew you had to take your hands off him otherwise–

“Hmm?”.

Mayhaps, he sensed the tensing of your fingers on his skin. There was a pout adorning his face and his brows were cutely furrowed. What exactly was this man? How could he switch from looking extremely hot mere seconds ago to now of a soft baby wolf? Who was the furry now? You or him?

Ugh.

Exasperated, you shake your head. “If you’re done,” you huff, quickly drawing your hands away from him, “let me through”.

“What?”.

“I thought you liked when I was like this,” the victorious glint in Chanyeol’s eyes was nothing short of cocky. His right hand was slowly skimming along your waist and his thumb was fervently stroking its way up to a certain spot on your body, the one he knew too well that made you writhe under his touch, the one that was below your rib.

“That’s not what I–,” before you could protest, in a blur, the stupid drink in his hand was gone, tossed aside and his large frame was engulfing you, pulling you into his huge arms.

How long had it been that you were confined like this?

If only he had given you the chance to calculate which he obviously didn’t.

His lips eagerly crash into yours without any warning– allowing you to taste traces of coffee in his mouth as his tongue languidly rolled against yours. At first, you were not exactly sure if you were liking it or hating it. Heck, you’d be wrong if you said if he was bad at kissing. He wasn’t lying when you first met him and he jokingly raved about how his expertise was kissing, that you won’t ever come across a better kisser than him who walked this earth.

What a cocky loser Park Chanyeol was.

The studio was small and the sloppy sounds from your messy but incredible snogging session had left you both needy. You were still pinned against the shelf, your hands clutching onto his hoodie, your bottom lip between his teeth and his expensive rolex grazing against your thigh, cold on your skin as he gripped onto it tightly. His other hand was around your face, holding it on one side, thumb sensually sweeping over your cheekbone.

Godfuckingdamnnit.

Why was it so difficult to push him away?

“Chanyeol,” you let out a stifled moan against his swollen lips. You hoped he would listen, you wish he did, he was fiercely leaving kisses down your neck and along your collarbone, the sensation sending you into a euphoric swirl as he began nibbling on your delicate skin, leaving traces of pink in his wake.

He was so eager and so erratic, with his hot breath fanning against your ear, he teases you. “I drive you crazy, don’t I?” his voice was rough and so tantalizingly deep, he was right. He was driving you crazy, maybe furious even. “Tell me Y/N– ”, before he could continue the sudden ringing of his doorbell startles you both. Hesitantly he detaches himself from you, pausing before tilting his head to the sound like a puppy.

Who could it be at this hour of noon?

He looked slightly annoyed but unbothered like he wasn’t intent on ever receiving the door because he was more absorbed on you right now. Lowering his eyes back on you, his intense gaze softens as he returns to cup your face for a small peck before another bell goes off.

Geez.

This time Chanyeol groans, kicking the shelf as he clumsily pulls himself away from you, the jerking causing one of his action figures of Luffy to tumble and crash straight onto your head. Ouch. Fuck, did it hurt. He drags his feet to attend the intruder who ruined his moment with you. Checking through the security cam he realizes it’s Taehyung.

“What the fuck is he doing here?!”.

“Shit! I completely forgot!” you storm out of the studio cursing and towards the bedroom looking for your jeans. God knows where Chanyeol threw it during your heated moment with him last night. “Taehyung’s here to pick me up”. You tell him nearly out of breath as you rapidly start throwing your clothes on.

Hearing you from the room, quickly enough, Chanyeol’s expression turns dry, he looked so displeased hearing the other’s name fall from your lips. “I’m telling him to go home,” sullen with downcast eyes, he mumbles ruffling his fingers through his pink tousled hair.

“Why don’t you stay?” It was odd hearing him say that, especially for someone who didn’t believe in love, everything he ever says has always been a complex puzzle to you. Something you struggled to piece together. You watch him stand firmly in front of the cam like he was ready to knock the teeth out of Taehyung if heard him press the bell one more time. Hearing you sigh loudly, he pauses, momentarily pursing his lips as he watches you pull your jeans up.

You really wished you could stay but you had to go.

“Yeol, you promised,” you remind him as you fix your hair and tuck your shirt into your jeans. This was the part you didn’t like dealing with. To look at him like this – to come to terms with whatever that was going on between the two of you.

“I know,” he walks towards you, his hand scratching the back of his neck and this time, though his tone was soft, it was laced with so much need, it made it even harder for you to swallow. “We promised”. Looking down at you he wraps his hands around your waist, slowly pulling you closer to him, he presses his forehead against yours as he tries to coax you, “but, I want you to stay”.

“Please”.

You feel his lips ghost over yours and there were so many parts of you screaming, telling you to stay but you know you couldn’t, not like this, not after the many arguments you’ve had with him. It may have seemed like things were going pretty smoothly up until now but quite frankly, they weren’t. You had been pushing it aside for months now and it had reached the point where you knew it had to stop. It did not matter if it was for better or for worse.

Never had you both confessed what you truly felt for each other. It was more like a let’s comfort each other thing than being in love or dating and all of this was strange. It was strange to have fallen for the wrong person, strange to have found comfort in someone who wasn’t willing to take it any further. You were so vain about love, right? You thought you knew better but here you were.

‘On a rainy day, you can come to me and I’ll make you pancakes–you know if you’re hungry and all but when the sun’s out again and shining, our rainy night filled with all this cozy stuff will come to an end. You cool with that?’.

That’s what he told you. That it wouldn’t be anything more than this. That there would be no strings attached. That’s what the promise was about.

And tonight? It was probably just another rainy night for him. Like it was last night. The sun would soon be back up and you’d have to part again. You were okay with this in the beginning but now? It was bothering you, fostering you that you couldn’t have him like you truly and hopelessly wanted to. He would ask you to stay one more night and then what? Tell you to leave? No. He didn’t do that. He would just disappear until it starts raining again. Until you go knocking and begging at his door. Sometimes he’s quick to invite you in but sometimes..

He never answers the door.

In his words, ‘love is all make-believe’ and illusive and you rolled with it at first having thought that you wouldn’t ever fall this deep but never had you been so wrong in all your life. Out of all the people you had to fall for Park Chanyeol. The one who had the same belief as you about love. Someone so rigid, someone who wouldn’t surrender to the idea of commitment.

It was exhausting to keep arguing with him and endure an endless torment when he would disappear every time you brought the matter of what if there’s more to us. And now, you weren’t going to let it happen again, not anymore. You reached the point where you’ve had just about enough of these vexing whirl of emotions.

“Chanyeol, please listen to me,” with a clutch on your heart you struggle to remind him of the promise you made to each other, “if I stay, we’re only going to fuck things up”. If only he would listen, this was the thing about him, he only made things harder for you, never easy.

“Y/N…”.

“I’m not asking you to stay forever”, it wasn’t helping that he was squeezing the side of your arm, his words, however, as bad as it may sound, were squeezing your heart. You were fine moments ago inside the studio. Why does he have to make everything so personal and so complicated when you’d both already figured it out by now that you weren’t meant for each other.

“Stay the night,” he had crossed the line. He softly began peppering kisses on your neck, “please”, repeating himself word after word, “just for tonight”.

You’ve lost count of how many times you’d given in. But, it was the way he touched you, kissed you and spoke so sweetly to you, his sweet lies always pulling you back towards him, like you were being dragged deeper into the lion’s den. He wasn’t bad or anything of that sort, he just had many flaws- like the ‘awful disease called love’.

“Come stargazing with me,” he plants a kiss to your forehead, lacing his fingers with your own, “please?”.

You knew it was a terrible idea. The aftermath would be beyond your control. Perhaps, it already had slipped out of your hands when you agreed to stay last night alone and now you were being pulled onto the loop being completely aware that the elastic might snap at any moment and hurt the both of you. Yet, you’re allowing it to let it slip again.

“For the last time, Yeol”.

With a heavy heart, you bury your head into his chest, letting him consume your meek frame completely.

“Only for tonight”.

How exactly did you get yourself into this mess? What could have possibly gone so wrong that you were stuck in this rut?

It was so clear in the back of your head, big red flags everywhere. Maybe you should have simply stayed away from the perpetual matters of love. But, isn’t running away from it solely what brought you here? Where you least wanted to be in the first place.

Why couldn’t Chanyeol understand this? It also didn’t help that he would get extremely territorial and upset whenever you crossed paths with Taehyung. You hadn’t planned for any of this, it was like you were being hauled deliberately, by some dark cruel force, something you couldn’t keep a leash on.

Was it your luck or simply your fate?

You should have known better when you both first made the ‘fuck love’ pact. Acting like you did was definitely not helping where all of this was going.

“Yeol,” you call his name softly, trying to wake him up from his slumber. You could have easily left him, without having to worry about the argument that would eventually follow but that was worse than acknowledging and telling him the truth. Avoiding the situation wasn’t going to fix the trouble you two were so unawarely brewing.

“Babe, wake up,” combing through his pink locks, you kiss him on the cheek, “don’t you want to go stargazing?”. He looked beautiful, his eyelids were puffy, tired from spending all night working in the studio. You didn’t want to wake him up but you couldn’t stay much longer either. You watch him slowly stir, turning his large body to your side. He takes your arm into his own, hugging them and nuzzling his face against your hand. He was purring like a kitten, his sleepy groans making your heart swoon. “Wake up, baby wolf,” you pat his face to which he smiles with his eyes still closed, being the sneaky little pupper he is.

“Want me to leave?” drawing your hand away from his strong grip, you push yourself off the bed, instantly, before you could get off, he was pulling you back into his body and his arms began tangling around you as he buried his nose cozily into your neck, his breath fanning against your skin, hugging you closely from behind.

“Who said you could leave?” he rasps in your ear, the tone in his voice making you shiver. You never understood what this boy was. He was so clingy but also so unforgivably cold. You thought you could predict his movements yet, he was so unpredictable. He would behave one minute like he’s cool with it but the next second he’s already changing his mind.

Not a few hours ago he was this furious, an out of control asshole, raging telling Taehyung to fuck off. You had to make several calls and apologize for Chanyeol’s irrational behavior. You knew why he was so mad at Taehyung but it had already been settled and he didn’t have to act so tough.

Now? He was being this cuddly giant, hugging you and completely wrapping you in his warmth.

Talk about being possessive. Something was definitely wrong with him but you weren’t really complaining. He was flawed, sure. But these things about him, they were what drew you towards him and as much as you hated admitting the truth, Chanyeol made your heart flutter. You were falling for him, harder than you could have ever imagined and this is why you had to remember the promise. This is why you couldn’t stay. You both had to accept that, the truth was and is always going to be bitter.

Much bitter than what you both deemed of love to be.

A/N - alright this took forever and unfortunately I couldn’t squeeze in the original almost- 8k words yikes because Tumblr keeps glitching. Part one of Clouded is finally out and I’m not sure how I feel? I’m excited but also very nervous? If you’ve read the prologue and the snippets you might have an idea of what’s going to happen later. There’s a lot more coming and I promise it’s going to be an emotional roller coaster. Things are going to go down and y/n is going to suffer I’m sorry ahsjskk. Thank you so much for waiting for Clouded and for taking your time to read it 😭 I hope you’ll enjoy this series! ♡

☾ Clouded Masterlist ✧

Taglist ♡ - @littleflowercrown13 @wifechungha @rashidamesrur

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged too! ♡

#chanyeol smut #chanyeol angst #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol fic #chanyeol x you #chanyeol x reader #chanyeol series #chanyeol scenarios #exo smut #exo angst #exo fanfic #exo x reader #exo x you #chanyeol imagine #chanyeol drabble #chanyeol college au #clouded

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paint-pilot · 4 years

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shit it’s been a second, guess it’s time to update again

edit: holy christ this is long, i’m gonna readmore it. tl:dr tyler has many badweird feelings but is getting through it. fun body changes, including hair growth and an unexpectedly nice voice. surgery and legal matters are Annoying. tw for menstruation

it is truly bizarre to think that i’ll have been five months on t in a little under two weeks. another month after that and it’s half a year. it’s uhh...weird. quarantine has just made this all feel weird. it’s like i fast-forwarded through this whole journey i was supposed to go on i guess? like i got randomly torn out of my life one day in march with no warning and then just as suddenly got spat out in august with a new life - new name, new face, new major, new identity - and no transitional period whatsoever. my classmates, my professors, my students, they all have only known me as tyler. and only ever will know me as tyler. and that’s great! it’s great, and i’m truly just blown away by how markedly easy it’s been and how weirdly good my timing was in transitioning. but it almost feels like i’m still a ways behind everyone else, i guess. i’ve spent so much of my life hiding, and lying through my teeth, and covering my ass every second of every day to protect myself, and i don’t have to do that anymore but the instinct is 100% still there and that honestly doesn’t feel good. of course i’m not making any of it up - i’m happier now than i’ve ever been, and i know i’m making the right choice - but it still persistently keeps feeling that way.

it’s just difficult, i think, to balance wanting to be read as male (and, to a large extent, wanting to keep my transness hidden both for safety reasons and so people don’t start treating me differently) and finding it difficult to hide this truly massive life change that, like, four people are really seeing anything of. and y’all, i guess, lol. it’s one thing to talk about all this in therapy, but it’s another entirely to just be able to share it with strangers and not worry about it being weird.

i was writing this with the intent of it being a mostly happy update but i guess there is some negativity boiling up so. gotta be honest, i guess? there’s a lot of fun trauma stuff i’ve been going through lately that i won’t get into but it’s culminated with this bullshit in this really fun way where my mom gets upset because i get kind of uncomfortable when she shows me childhood photos or tells stories about me as a little kid and then i just break down for reasons i really can’t discern. i’m going to try and articulate this, and who knows how messy it’s going to get, so i apologize if it gets kind of incoherent from here on out. as far as i can tell the root thing that she really gets upset about is that i’ve “thrown away” my whole previous identity. like, not a direct quote, but “you can’t just pretend [deadname] never existed. because she did, for a long time.” and...sure, i guess. i know this has been hard on my mom. i know she was raised in a conservative family, and while she has worked hard to adopt an accepting and open mindset she still doesn’t 100% grasp all of it and will make mistakes. i’ve made my peace with that. and yet. it’s not so much, really, that i was this other person and then became tyler, y’know? tyler did not appear suddenly two years ago where she once stood. tyler put on a mask, even before he knew he was tyler, because tyler was scared and ashamed but people seemed to like her and, for a time, she was an easy person to be. and i hated her. that is so fucking scary for me to say, and i’m not sure i’ve admitted that until literally right this second, but i did. not because she was a bad person. because she had a voice and a face and a body that i hated. because people saw her and assumed they knew me. because even she had many faces, because there was no real base or identity to her, just traits designed to paint a pretty picture and make people like her. because i knew, when i finally threw her away, people would miss her. compare me to her. expect me to be like her.

so i don’t know. i don’t have a satisfying way to wrap this up, because i honestly don’t know how to face this because i know it is absolutely not just the trans thing that created this situation. i’m kinda warring with myself, because i do kinda want to go back through this blog and delete photos of myself with long hair and whatever (because jesus, i’ve had this thing since i was like 14) but i genuinely don’t know if that’s healthy. i know i’m going back on my bullshit, fretting this way and that over whether something is “healthy” as though that’s an objective term without considering what’s going to make me happy, but honestly? i don’t know anymore. i keep sensing the mental block - the swathes of my childhood that i cannot recall, just vague, constant unease - and i don’t really know if i want to dig into all of that and learn what lies underneath because i’m sort of afraid of it. like i said, i’m happy now, happier than i’ve ever been, and i’d sort of like to just leave it like that. but i guess the length and tone of this post might argue otherwise.

anyways. anyways. enough mental health therapy, more actual hormone therapy updates since that’s what this goddamn thing is supposed to be i think? i’m finally starting to grow some noticeable hairs - my chin hair is coming back after my mom made me shave it before i left for school lol, as are a handful of mustache/lower lip/sideburn hairs. i keep feeling phantom bugs on my legs/feet and i’ve only just now recognized that that’s just leg hairs brushing against places i’m not used to. my appetite has picked up like absolute hell again, too, so i don’t know if i’m just having a metabolic spurt or what. also, i’ve started bruising more? idk what the hell that’s about - i fucking never bruise unless i’ve been hit Hard, and i kind of assumed testosterone would make you less likely to bruise, but then that’s probably just not related to the hormones at all. i was gonna put this in the tags but seeing as this post is already so long i might as well put a readmore and just put this here lol: my period is late, like, four days late, which is exceedingly unusual for me and might mean i’m finally done. or almost done. fingers crossed.

my voice has started to settle, it seems like. i popped out an e2 yesterday, which is Sick, but i’m not as focused on that anymore as i am on the actual quality of my tone. which is...good? i’m not just a baritone, i’m kind of a good one, at least it seems like. i’m really working right now on just getting familiar with my instrument - i’m second-guessing my pitch sensitivity a lot, but i think i really just need to drill and practice until everything starts feeling like second nature again. but since the musical didn’t happen for me, my coach wants to enter me in a classical solo competition next spring. so...no more retirement from competitive singing. i’m back! and thank god, because i’m starting to go crazy without being in musical work lol.

jesus fuck, i have a lot to say. i should probably split this into two posts but i don’t care. i am frustrated; i tried to get an appointment with a pro bono legal program for a name change, but it happened today and i wasn’t invited so apparently i’m on my own. and i’m frustrated. i’m trying to look at internships and shit for next summer, but i kind of can’t apply right now because my legal name and sex don’t line up with my presentation, and i don’t really know how easy it is to get away with that in this day and age and especially in my field. genuinely, if anyone has any advice, i’d appreciate it. i don’t know how long this will take, i don’t know what the requirements are, i don’t know if i’m better off just applying now and hoping they don’t eliminate me before ever getting me an interview. and, of course, i’m working on getting consultations for top surgery, but i keep catching myself procrastinating that. which seems weird, but listen. i’ve said it before but i have to emphasize, i am capital-t Terrified of getting this surgery. i know i need to, i know it will make things better for me, i know now is the time, i know i hate binding and can’t really get away with not doing so, but jesus fuck i am so frightened of anesthesia it’s not even funny. but i guess i’m mostly just calling myself out here and telling myself to quit being a big baby, schedule the thing, and give myself a few months to prepare.

anyway. that’s all i have to say. i’d apologize for ranting, but honestly...i dunno. i know at the start of all this a handful of you requested these updates, and i have to imagine it’s because at least some of you are transitioning, are thinking of doing so, or know someone who is or will be soon. and i just hope someone out there can at least relate, because there honestly just aren’t a lot of comparable life changes out there. or maybe this is just therapeutic for me, that’s fine too.

i have two midterms next week i should be studying for. i should do that.

#t.txt #not horses #the puberty diaries #menstruation mention

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 5 years

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Michael in the Mainstream - Star Wars: Episode IX - The Rise of Skywalker

Star Wars is a franchise very near and dear to my heart. I’ve grown up watching the films and have fond memories of each of them, in particular Revenge of the Sith, which I got to see in theaters with my father. It’s a series that has introduced me to great characters, great actors, great ways to tell stories, and if nothing else the movies were always fun. I never saw a Star Wars movie I couldn’t enjoy on some level.

That all changed with this movie.

The Rise of Skywalker is a wet fart of a finale. It is a mess, it is underwhelming, it is disrespectful to the previous two films, and worst of all it’s bland. But hyperbole aside, this movie isn’t a complete and utter waste; it’s certainly not the worst film of all time or anything, or even the worst Star Wars movie. It’s just a sad case of a mixed bag where the bag skews more to the bad side than the good side.

Let’s go over what I actually did enjoy first. Obviously, the score was fantastic, but I think this goes without saying; John Williams has never once screwed around, so why would he stop now? His music honestly does a lot of the heavy lifting emotion-wise, as scenes such as the supposed trinity of this trilogy’s reunion at the end would not have any sort of impact otherwise. Then we have stuff like the practical effects, which is both a blessing and a curse as they seem to be a sort of dancing bear for this trilogy. As great and lively as they make the worlds, they shouldn’t be what gets focus over story and character development… but hey, Babu Frik is great.

Speaking of characters, there are a few who were handled very well in this film. In terms of comedy, there is C-3PO and Palpatine. C-3PO is just a genuine riot here, and almost every goofy little joke he cracked gave me a genuine chuckle. He’s really at his best here. Palpatine on the other hand is just a character who is so inherently hilarious that it is physically impossible to be mad at him. Like, he’s an evil zombie wizard who spends half the film insulting Kylo Ren and then the other half cackling and shooting lightning in his big arena full of hooded weirdos while strapped to a big dialysis machine and wearing a sparkling red vest under his robe. Sheev Palpatine is pretty much the greatest character in human history, and while his role in this film is so stupid, shoehorned, and underbaked, you cannot help but crack a grin at the sheer lunacy good ol’ Sheev brings to the table. The sheer revelation that this man actually, canonically had more sex than Kylo Ren is enough to send a man into a fit of giggles.

In terms of actual character, Rey gets a solid arc marred by some incredibly poor writing choices, but overall stays solid throughout. Her interactions with Kylo Ren especially solidify her as an interesting and engaging character, and honestly the whole reveal that she’s a Palpatine is intriguing and could have added depth to her… but they managed to bungle it. And it’s an easy fix too; early on, there’s a scene where she and Kylo are playing tug-of-war with a transporter that is holding an iconic character. Rey accidentally unleashes Palpatine lightning and blows it up, seemingly killing the character inside… only for the character to inexplicably be alive two scenes later. Now, if Rey had actually killed said character by accident and spent the rest of the film struggling with her nature, it would make her ultimate showdown and rejection of Grandpa Sheev’s ideology all the more sweeter and satisfying. A moment at the end would have likewise been improved if she had simply not chosen to rename herself and instead chose to just simply be “Rey,” but gotta have that sweet, sweet branding! Still, I think Rey is remarkably done here, though not nearly as good as she was in The Last Jedi.

But the real MVP here is definitely Adam Driver as Kylo Ren. I’m just gonna say it: this guy carries the film. He has had the most remarkably consistent character arc in this new trilogy, and that concludes just as well here, though sadly in the most obvious way: with a redemption. However, it comes not from Rey, as desperate shippers had hoped, but from his parents – Leia and Han both play a part in ensuring their son’s redemption. And when he’s redeemed, the way Driver is able to convey the character of Ben Solo with just his face and body language is incredible enough to make the redeemed man feel like a totally different character than when he was Kylo Ren, and all of this is without speaking. Driver deserves every ounce of praise he gets for these films, and while I feel his arc would have been far more satisfying if it wasn’t a carbon copy of Anakin’s arc, it’s a testament to Driver’s skill that he managed to sell me such a cliché turn of events and made it work.

This is where my kindness dries up, however, as the rest of this is going to be pretty negative. The story here is just an incoherent mess; it honestly feels like an entire trilogy crammed into one film, a film divorced entirely from the other two films. The big problem with this trilogy is how there is so little cohesion between films that each film feels like a soft reset, and nowhere is that more clear than here. It doesn’t help that this film decides to cram in a bunch of stupid backspaces to everything from The Last Jedi, the most awkward and egregious being how they write off the “Holdo Maneuver” as a one in a million shot at success despite the fact that using the far more obvious “using the rebels as suicide bombers is a bit morally iffy and such a move should not be used unless we’re totally desperate” explanation would have sufficed. It honestly feels like the writers were chickening out a lot of the time and decided to try and distract us from their yellow-bellied attempts at ignoring the previous film by slapping us in the face with tons of fanservice. Sometimes it works – the voices of all the fallen Jedi in the final act was an awesome touch (I hear you Qui-Gon, Windu, and Ahsoka!) - but most of them time it is just painfully on-the-nose and groan worthy, such as when Chewbacca gets his medal. The worst offender here is Lando, who is so carelessly tossed into this mess of a plot that it feels really disrespectful to Billy Dee Williams.

Speaking of screwing over characters though, no one got it worse than Finn, Poe, and Rose. With Rose, it’s frankly just insulting they didn’t even try. It would have been so easy to redeem Rose in the eyes of the fans that didn’t like her character in The Last Jedi; if The Clone Wars can make Jar Jar a likable character, then I’m pretty sure a big budget Hollywood blockbuster can fix the issues of a poorly written character in its sequel. Instead though, this film takes the coward’s route and relegates Rose to a role less important to the plot than Babu Frik, who despite his integral role is only in one single scene. Poe is just handled as nonsensically as ever, given really dumb jokes and a forced and unneeded backstory as a spice smuggler, complete with an implied female love interest in an attempt to try and convince us the character is heterosexual.

But Finn gets it worst of all. Not only does he get a forced implied love interest (who is black, because we can’t have miscegenation in our big blockbuster films!), but he just in general gets shafted so hard. Finn being shafted has been a running theme with this trilogy. The first film set him up to be an integral, important main character, one who would even become the main character…. And then he slowly faded from relevance as the writers put him in increasingly bad plotlines, culminating with the slap in the face this movie gives us by implying but not outright stating that Finn can use the Force. There were so many interesting ways they could take Finn’s arc and they chose the route that is, quite frankly, the absolute worst. The fact that Finn got totally shafted in such a way despite being a fan favorite is all the more baffling and honestly has me wondering what the suits at Disney were thinking. If they weren’t actually minimizing a character as beloved as Finn was after The Force Awakens out of racism, what were they even trying to do? John Boyega has a right to be as angry as he is.

There’s other stuff that’s obnoxious. Leia’s scenes are all terrible and poorly executed, which comes off as really disrespectful to Carrie Fisher; the romance in this film which, as mentioned above, is totally forced, but special mention goes to the Ben/Rey kiss at the end, which while not some life-ending travesty is so utterly out of nowhere due to the lack of romantic chemistry between the two in any of these films that it’s laughable; the editing is so incoherent and terrible in places that it feels like it was done by someone on a mixture of crack and Red Bull; the complete waste that is Hux and his childish reasoning for betraying the First Order, completing the character’s change from a terrifying Nazi allegory to a complete and utter joke; the fact that the new First Order general who takes center stage gets so little development despite being a great throwback to Grand Moff Tarkin and a genuinely amazing character otherwise, with a fascinating history with Palpatine that is never explored and no meaningful interactions with the heroes; the complete and utter unexplained nature of Palpatine’s return; and just how painfully unfunny a lot of the humor in this film is. This movie just has so many problems, so many flaws, and it ends on such a completely limp and unsatisfying note that it’s honestly kind of sad.

This film… I don’t know about this film. It’s definitely not the worst Star Wars film, because it at least has some genuinely good bits to it, unlike Attack of the Clones which I can only really justify liking ironically. But that being said, this film is just so unsatisfying, and what’s more, it’s not very memorable. Not much will stick with you with this one, and if it does, it might be more of the bad things rather than the good ones, which is a shame, because I do think there’s some good stuff buried under the garbage here, but I don’t know if it’s worth sitting through this film to find. This is not the worst thing ever, I really can’t stress that enough… but it’s just not fun, engaging, or anything that will really make you feel anything meaningful, and sometimes that’s just worse.

Ultimately, this film has an incredibly uncertain audience. It’s wrapping up a trilogy in one of the biggest franchises on earth with a plotline that tries to pander to fans in a way that feels gross and condescending, leaving the film feeling like it was made for absolutely no one. If you like this, that’s fine; Star Wars is a franchise that has greatness ingrained in its DNA, to the point where I can’t say any of the films are really among the worst I’ve ever seen. But I think generally this is not going to be a film worth watching, and certainly one to skip in any future marathons of the franchise. It really is a shame… this trilogy if nothing else was full of potential to be a new take on Star Wars for a new generation. Instead, it ended up as a confusing, corporate mess.

#Michael in the Mainstream #review #movie review #Star Wars #The Rise of Skywalker #j.j. abrams #Adam Driver #Daisy Ridley #John Boyega #sheev palpatine #Episode IX #sci-fi #science fiction movie #science fiction #sci-fi movie #Disney

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palukoo · 5 years

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it’s 2019 and i’m out here remembering all the feelings i had about the difference between glinda’s (well i guess at the time Galinda but...... you know me) “you’re beautiful” during popular and fiyero’s “it’s not lying, it’s looking at things a different way” and like. i get that fiyero’s is supposed to be all romantic and genuine whereas glinda’s... isn’t, but can i just take a second. because so the point is that fiyero doesn’t have to change elphaba to see her as beautiful, just change his perspective which is like sweet or whatever i guess

but its also very prompted. she says she wishes she could be beautiful for him and then tells him he doesnt have to lie to her and say she is, because she expects the pity or placating or whatever. fiyero is supposed to tell her she’s beautiful, and she doesn’t want him to lie to her. he’s expected to tell her she is.

glinda is not. neither glinda nor elphaba expects her to say that, she just does. she’s surprised by elphaba’s beauty, maybe because she’s really done almost nothing, which means she’s always been beautiful. i mean, i know its on stage and all but she just unbraids her hair, gives her lipstick and a flower, and takes off her glasses. also, within the context of the book’s version of that scene where glinda says, “strange, there’s some kind of exotic quality of beauty about you” or something like that and elphie says, “it’s surprise not beauty,” an interpretation where there both surprised by what glinda’s said (and maybe for glinda the truth behind it) makes sense.

anyways, like i said fiyero is supposed to say she’s beautiful and more or less does, and glinda doesn’t have to but does. the difference is supposed to be that fiyero doesnt have to change elphaba to see her as beautiful, and maybe that he doesnt have to see her as beautiful to love her, which is obviously really important. but he does have to change his perspective. but heres the thing, i dont think glinda had to change elphaba to see her as beautiful, i think she had to to let herself express that or address that in any way

also worth noting, people always see popular and some other stuff as glinda trying to change elphie, which i guess is fair or whatever, but to me its always been her way of protecting elphaba? she’s not physically strong or anything, she may not hold a gun on someone to help elphaba escape, but she knows people and how they work and she so badly wants to shape elphaba’s image to keep her safe and maybe even make her loved. it’s not really that she wants to change elphie or even her own perspective, but everyone else’s. it’s her way of helping elphie, because she knows better than anyone that underneath it all, elphaba does care what people think of her (”of course she does, she just pretends not to”). i mean, to me that was always how i saw popular, and her parts in defying gravity and such, even some of the dialogue after wonderful, where she clearly also extends this protection to fiyero. even, arguably, during dancing through life, glinda tries to protect elphaba from negative public perception when she dances with her.

which kind of makes it even more tragic that elphaba does it back? she protects glinda’s image during defying gravity by telling the guards its all her fault, because she knows how important it it to her. from glinda’s perspective, elphaba’s final act, essentially, it to protect her image by making her hide and promise not to clear her name. which is why glinda cannot protect elphaba’s image in “death” because she can’t dishonor elphie’s dying wish

and holy fuck i got off topic but i guess its wicked hours also im aware this is largely incoherent so ill just go back to mentally screaming about wicked sorry to yall who weren’t here for my wicked phase so this is out of left field for yall youre welcome to anyone who was here for wicked like 4 years ago whats good yall

#wicked #gelphie #glinda #elphaba thropp #i dont think i tag a last name for glinda since the book and musical vary i think? maybe?#this is a musical specific post but i could also talk about the book #its crying about wicked hours #my post

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oghoneytryst · 6 years

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surprise;

continuation from the sunflower. series / part 2

where harry visits a fan at her little home to surprise her with a much needed gift.

a/n: hey so I had this up for an hour before deleting it because I'm testing something out concerning tumblr’s shit system so let me know what u think, hope u enjoy. happy reading! :~)

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- November 4 -

Insisting that the scorching weather in Los Angeles is unbearable for a woman in her situation, she begs her roommate to do the grocery shopping this week.

“Please don’t take long,” she tells him from the front door, Aaron, as he descends the outside staircase. His body plops with every step down, his back to her as she continues. “I’m really hungry. Wait, get some pistachio ice cream!”

“Pistachio?” Aaron stops mid-step and turns around with a disgusted look. “Since when have you liked pistachio? Have you ever even eaten it before?”

She mumbles something incoherent to him, then scoffs at his interrogation. “Don’t judge! Do you really want to upset my unborn child over their strange eating habits?”

Her roommate rolls his eyes. It annoys him every time she plays the pregnancy card, but he has failed to realize that she only does so because she knows it ticks him off. Either way, he can’t find the courage to argue with a pregnant woman.

He turns back around. “Of course not.” His body continues to flop in an unattractive manner all the way to the ground. He tips his head from side to side as his roommate continues to list some more requests.

“...And don’t forget the avocados!”

“Avocados are expensive. Do you have avocado money?”

“Thank you!” She ignores his question as he rounds the corner to the garage. “I appreciate it. A lot! Drive safe! Don’t forget the Twizzlers!”

The woman steps into the confinements of her home before Aaron can shout back another remark. She pulls the creaky gate in with her and locks it into place. To complement its security, she pushes the front door shut as well. The double protection had been a hassle when she had first moved in, but now she’s grown to depend on the extra safety measures.

A warm breath exhales from her chapped lips. The open window behind the couch lets in a gentle breeze from time to time, but it still isn’t enough to cool her down. The ventilation system in their unit is disappointing, but the roommates deal with it instead of investing a couple hundred dollars for a new one.

The woman leisurely moves to the kitchen, bare feet sticking to the floorboards. Her skin sweats and burns in this simmering Sunday heat; with the end of her tank top in a clump just below her chest, her hand protects the bare expanse of her belly. In spite of having just sent her roommate off to the store, she inspects every crook and cranny of the kitchen for something to satisfy her cravings.

Minutes and minutes pass. She stands on her tip-toes, stretches her neck up to the highest shelf of a cabinet, when the doorbell resonates against the walls. She closes the cabinet and presses her heels back on the floor, her face in a twist at the unfamiliar sound. Infrequently does anyone ever use the doorbell, neither her nor her roommate having invited guests in the past few months of sharing the space.

“Yes, of course, not like you have a key!” she exclaims, moving to unlock the door. She assumes that it is Aaron, as the neglecting man that he is sometimes. “Did you somehow forget that with your wallet again?”

The woman pulls open the door with a knowing look on her face. She wants to be playful in the reprimand toward her grumpy roommate, give him a tut-tut for being so unorderly, though they both know that she isn’t any better. In place of this, her eyes settle on an all-too-familiar face.

The man in front of her juts his bottom lip out, eyes squinting from the sun, designer sunglasses hanging from the collar of his refine white shirt. “Uh...” He begins to pat himself down, hands at a feel for every inch of his body before pulling out a folded leather wallet from the pocket of his trousers. He presents it to her with an “Ah!” and a flashy smile, two fingers pinching the expensive material. “No. I’ve got it right here.”

A gaping look replaces the woman’s previous smirk. Her body freezes in this burning heat, even with her skin sizzling to a sweaty warmth. Her jaw slightly drops, but the bulge of her eyes and the absence of her words properly depicts her internal reaction. She swears she had even heard herself gasp the second her mind came to terms with his presence.

“Hi there,” Harry says. He slips his wallet back into his pockets and titters, entertained by her physical response. “Erm ... are you ... are you alright?”

She doesn’t snap out of her embarrassing daze until his rich accent pronounces her name. Her eyes blink, her head shakes, and her mouth quickly shuts before it can ramble on as it usually does. She looks at him the same way she had at the diner two Fridays ago – cautiously, as though she cannot trust her own vision.

“Harry?” she croaks out, afraid that the realization will somehow cause him to fade away, as if he doesn’t exist.

“Yeah.” He bows his head proudly. “That’s me.”

“That’s ... what ... what in the...”

She tries to speak, but with her tongue as her foe, a momentary silence ensues. A breeze sweeps by and only then does she notice a chill on her bare belly. While the rest of her appearance is ungodly, she is primarily self-conscious over the swell of her stomach.

“Sorry if it’s the bad time to stop by.” Harry breaks the silence, trying his best to ignore the way she discreetly rolls her tank top back down. The material stretches over her growing shape, but there’s not much of a difference since he’s last seen her. “I’m actually really glad that I’ve managed to catch you. I rang the doorbell a couple of times in the last week and no one’s answered.”

“You ... what? The what?”

She puts a limit on her lexicon by repeating herself so much, but it is really the only word that seems to make sense in this moment: what? What is Harry Styles doing at her front door, dropping by as if the two had been life-long friends? What does he mean he’s rang the doorbell a couple of times in the past week?

The conversation is rather strange with the gate locked between them, but she can’t begin to think that it had been normal in the first place. She can’t even believe that he remembers her name, let alone where she lives, though perhaps he’d gotten it off of his driver’s GPS that one night. His letter and autograph had been enough to satisfy her daydreams, but this continuation has her head spinning right off.

Harry smiles bashfully to the floor. “I should explain myself then?”

“I mean...” she lets out an incredulous laugh. “If that’s – if you want to, sure, that’d be ... wow.”

“Wow?”

“Wow. Wow, I can’t believe this is happening and I don’t even know why it’s happening. And you’ve – wow. You’ve been here a couple of times in the past week? And no ... no one’s answered?”

“That’s correct,” Harry confirms, clasps his hands behind him. “Startin’ to think you’ve moved somewhere else.”

She snorts quietly at the idea. “In the span of a week?”

“Eh, a week and a couple days.”

“Ah, now that definitely makes more sense.”

“Alright, alright.” Harry chuckles and holds his hands up in a lazy surrender. “It wasn’t the smartest thought I’ve ever had, I know. Was just a strange coincidence, is all.”

“It is really strange. I’m usually here when I’m not at work.”

The color of Harry’s cheeks suddenly spread to a light pinkish shade. His avoids eye contact as his lips purse, the revelation confirming that he is a harmless idiot. He hopes that it goes unnoticed by her, but her hands wrap curiously around the thin bars of the upper gate.

“Did you forget that I have work?”

“...Depends what time you have work.”

“Your usual nine to five, although sometimes it can be up to six, maybe even later.”

“Hmm.” Harry takes in this information with a neutral mien. When he looks up at her eyes sparkling in delight, he tries so hard to conceal his growing smile. “Then yes, it did slip from my mind that you might have work to attend.”

Her laughter is a high-pitch, unattractive outburst that echoes in her ears. She clamps her mouth shut when she hears the strange howl and muffles it with her hand. “Sorry, that’s not funny,” she says, her eyes now apologetic. “I mean, it is funny, but probably not that funny ... you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “Sure. If you want to laugh at me, it’s fine. I can take it.”

He declares the last sentence rather dramatically, clutching onto his heart and leaning his head back to the skies. Pretend sobs distort his face until the hysterics turn into genuine laughter. She mirrors his elation, the rays of the sun blinding every feature of his except for those lovely two front teeth.

She releases the bars of the gate, her hands tainted by tiny specks of dirt. “No, no, I’m sorry. I really appreciate that you went out of your way to be here.” She begins to unlock the gate when she notices that its barrier may indicate a distrust in him, or perhaps be even just a bit rude. In all honesty, she’d forgotten that it had even been there to begin with. Their conversation is such a dream to her that it is a distraction from everything else.

“Except, um ... I really don’t know why you’re here. It’s great that you are! I just don’t – oh, wait, I forgot something in the car, didn’t I? Was it my planner? I don’t use it as often as I should, that’s probably not smart of me, but it’s so forgettable sometimes—”

Her ramble cuts off when she pushes open the gate, Harry side-stepping to his right. On the floor of the balcony rests a large thing behind him that takes up most of the minimal space available. A clear plastic wrap protects the strange shapely thing, but through the transparency, she can see that it is a pale-blue color.

“Uh, no...” Harry stands tall and grins proudly at the little crease in her brow. “You didn’t forget anything.”

“Oh ... then it must be still in my bag.”

“Yeah, probably, but I did come to bring you something.”

The woman raises her attention up from the thing to look at Harry. Her face illustrates surprise as much as it does awe. “Bring me something? Bring ... for me? Wh—” She points downward, which elicits a suppressed giggle from him. “That? This? It’s for me?”

“Yes, it’s for you.”

Her bare feet stay frozen on the ground, but she leans her body forward to further inspect his gift. “What is it? I mean, thank you so much, that’s really nice of you, but ... what is it?”

Harry gives in; a chuckle vibrates through his chest. He suddenly notices how often it happens when he’s with her. She has some sort of energy that radiates positivity and optimism. It is a natural charm of hers, one that she doesn’t quite know she has.

“It’s a pregnancy pillow.”

The woman opens her mouth in shock, the strange shape suddenly beginning to make sense. “A what?” she whispers, holding a hand to her chest as the other dangles in the open air. The individual aspects of her face all seem to collectively light up: eyes bright, mouth open, cheeks lifting.

“Erm, it’s a pillow for pregnant woman to sleep—”

“Oh my god.” She laughs. “I know what it is! Why’d you ... what’s it doing here?”

Harry watches as she marvels over the plush and lengthy pillow from a short distance. He becomes a little shy as he explains himself, but it is nothing that he cannot conceal.

“You mentioned that you hate not being able to sleep on your back. I figured you needed as much comfort as you could possibly get at a time like this.”

A tiny “Oh,” slips from her mouth in the most delicate way possible, floating through the waves of the air. Her heart has some sort of queasy sensation, one that flutters and expands.

She doesn’t say any more. Her throat closes as the water in her eyes bundles up. She scoffs at herself in shame when the first tear falls. There had been a number of things in her first trimester that had caused her to weep, both significant and pointless. A couple of weeks into her second, she now has her emotions under control. However, this surprise of his is so simple yet so remarkably wonderful that it transforms her into an absolute mess in front of the person she looks up to the most.

A worrisome frown begins to mold over Harry’s eager grin. He looks back-and-forth from his gift to her teary demeanor. His hand invades the space between them, protecting her from the harmless pillow on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t ... s’ it okay? Is it the wrong shape or something? I got the C one cos’ I wasn’t sure if the U-shape was too large, but maybe you can have more of a variety with that one? If you’d like, I can return it and—”

“No,” she cries and interrupts his mini spiel. “No, it’s great!”

“Great?” he echoes, still unconvinced. “Are you sure? I can exchange it for another one if it’s not, maybe a different color?”

“Yes! I mean – no. Yes, it’s perfect, and no, the color is fine.”

“...Why’re you crying then?”

Her back straightens as she looks into his green eyes of concern. Her vision is a tad hazy, all thanks to this predicament of hers, but she has otherwise never seen a moment more clearly.

“Because this is the nicest thing anyone could ever do for me,” she answers, which causes Harry to finally relax. His arms fall to his side, his hands disappearing into his pockets as she tells him, “I love it. Thank you, Harry.”

“S’ my pleasure,” he sheepishly mumbles.

He is quiet, but loud enough to hear amid the normally hectic neighborhood. Where there is often a jumble of background noise – birds chirping, cars honking, music blasting – the two of them stand in silence. She becomes aware of how this is another one of their moments, if she can even acknowledge it as such a thing. There have only been two encounters, but in both there is a pause neither too natural nor too awkward.

“Um...” She sniffles. Her mind begins to tick, precious time of hers going to waste. “Do you want ... would you like to come inside maybe? If you’re not busy with anything else?”

Her sentence trails off in a manner of uncertainty. She suggests it spontaneously, but her better judgement seems to harshly awaken her from the fantasy she resides in. She has just invited Harry Styles into her home, a ridiculous request that receives a reluctant response.

Harry opens his mouth to say something, but a strange noise croaks from his throat instead. She fears what he must be thinking about. Is it a genuine excuse or a respectful decline to her offer? It makes her nervous either way.

“You don’t have to,” she quickly adds. “If you’re busy, that’s completely fine. I definitely understand. This was very nice of you, thank you so—”

“I’m not – sorry.” Harry clears his throat. “I’m not busy. I’d love to come inside, but I’m a little concerned for your roommate’s privacy. Wouldn’t want to intrude their space.”

The pregnant woman eases with a calm smile. With the exception of forgetting her work schedule, she realizes how attentive Harry is. He remembers her name, remembers where she lives – again, with the exception that perhaps he had obtained this information from his driver – and he remembers how she had mentioned once that she hated not being able to sleep on her back. Despite never once having met her roommate, he remembers that detail too.

“Their space is my space and you’re not intruding at all. Besides, my roommate just went out grocery shopping. Won’t be back for some time, unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately?”

“Yeah, I’m really hungry.” She puckers her lips to the side. “There’s nothing in the kitchen, so I’m sorry to say that I can’t really offer you anything to eat.”

“That’s quite alright.” Harry laughs and shakes his head. “And in that case, I’d love to be invited into your home. Just give me a second, yeah?”

Prior to her response, Harry speeds down the stairs. Her eyes follow his path and notice the ominous the black vehicle parked at the curb. The engine still runs, and as Harry nears the passenger door, the sleek window rolls down.

She doesn’t want to be caught staring, so she focuses back on the pillow. Though she hadn’t known what it had been only minutes ago, she now thinks it is the loveliest sight she’s ever seen.

Smiling to herself, she takes a step forward and crouches down every so carefully. She gathers the plastic-wrapped C-shape cushion in her arms, positioning it at a tricky angle that is on her side and above her belly. It crinkles annoyingly, its particular sturdy length threatening to flop in every other direction.

When Harry finishes his discussion, he turns and finds her struggling to move past the doorframe. The pillow blocks her view, so she can’t step in as easily as she assumes. He calls her name, his fists clenched and arms bent in a speedy jog up the stairs.

“That’s alright, love. I’ve got it.”

She feels the weight alleviate from her grip. It makes sense that Harry lifts it as if it weighs nothing – he had been the one to haul it up the stairs. Down on the ground, the black vehicle is in the midst of a 3-point-turn before speeding out of the open neighborhood.

“Oh, okay. Thanks.”

She ignores the term of endearment, for now at least. He had said it to her twice before on the first night, to which she had overthought about it before succumbing to sleep. She knows tonight will be no different.

“No worries. Is it alright if I...”

Pillow in arms, Harry nods his head in the direction of the open home. He awaits her permission despite already having it.

“Yes.” She nods ferociously. “Yeah, yeah, go right in.”

The woman’s arm flails forward as a guide for his journey across the threshold. She knows that he is humble in his own way, but the second he enters her residence, she begins to feel timorous. This small space of hers is so ... small. He has spent the last eight years of his life as reigning royalty in places far and beyond. Size does not even begin to cover this drastic difference.

She pulls the gate in, locks it. “Sorry if it’s a little messy.” She swings the door closed, locks it.

Her heart beats in silence when Harry places the pillow down on the cold floor, dead-center in the unit as he turns to face her. He faintly huffs, scanning over the four walls and all of its property. The square table near the corner to his left opposite to the worn-out couch against the window on his right. Behind him is an open bedroom door in the narrow hallway straight ahead, a closed bedroom door next to it hidden by a sharp turn.

It is simple, as far as simple can be.

“Nothing perfect,” the woman admits, “but it’s home.”

Harry shakes his head. “I like it. It’s nice. Cozy.”

“Thanks...”

Beat; another empty beat. The sunlight beams through the window, exposing a narrow cloud of dust particles that swim through the air. It strikes down in the space between them, physically representing the invisible energy that already divides them.

“Erm, where would you like it?” he innocently asks, though one can interpret such an inquiry in many different ways.

She is about to ask what he means, but saves herself the embarrassment as her vision points to the pillow on the floor. “Um, I guess ... I guess my room is fine, since that’s where I sleep.”

“Right. That makes the most sense, doesn’t it?”

He asks rhetorically – she won’t make that mistake again – so she responds with nothing but a kind smile. Her solemn attitude is obvious, but there is a major distinction between talking to Harry Styles in a diner and talking to Harry Styles in her home after he’s bought a pregnancy pillow for her.

“Which one is it?” asks Harry, bending over to grip onto the loud plastic material.

In a split second, she contemplates the idea of having Harry in her bedroom. It is something beyond her wildest dreams in circumstance she hasn’t quite imagined, but a panic arises before he can even manage to pick the pillow up.

“Uh, wait! It’s ... you don’t have to. I can take it myself.”

Bent halfway, Harry waves his hand as a dismissal. “S’ no problem.”

“Yeah, but ... okay.”

Her voice is the tiniest Harry has ever heard from her. In a slow rise from his weird position, he tilts his head as an expression of his suspicion. “Unless you don’t want me to?”

“No! No, it’s fine, I don’t mind. Just ... wait here, okay?”

A crease appears in the center of his forehead, but he nods nonetheless.

She scurries past him and down the hallway, into the bedroom with the open door. The woman does not release a breath until it closes behind her, safe from the reality of this strange event. It still doesn’t quite manage to cross past her skull, not even with Harry waiting for her in her living room.

Wow. Harry Styles is waiting for me in my living room.

Her faint laugh disappears in the November air that seeps in through her open window. With her mattress right next to it, she remembers that she hadn’t taken the time to make her bed this morning. On top of that, her undergarments litter across the floor, and empty snack packets pile over her dresser and bedside table.

Her biggest concern is the folded page from her planner. It also rests on her bedside table, inanimate over a ratty novel that devours her attention almost every night.

For the next couple of minutes, she cleans up whatever mess Harry may come across. Her bras and panties stuff in the confinements of her laundry basket, the remnants of her midnight snacks thrown in the trash can, and her most treasured letter safe under the used candle in her bedside drawer. She finishes by flinging her comforter up and over the sheets of her bed, then tugs at every corner until it looks somewhat presentable.

When she deems the room as less of a disaster, she fixes her appearance – as best as a tank top and leggings can be fixed – and lets out a nervous breath before opening the door.

“Alright, sorry about that. You can come in now.”

Down the hall, she can see that the pillow is still just a lump on the floor. No Harry waits beside it.

Her heart rate increases with alarm, even more so than the idea of having Harry enter her messy bedroom. She hates that she allows such troubling thoughts to torture her, but this whole circumstance is a desire much too wonderful to be real. It will not be a surprise to her if he had ended up changing his mind.

Her bare feet patter across the floorboards, her movements slightly frantic. As the hallway ends, Harry’s figure appears in the corner of her living room, his back to her. His upper body leans forward, eyes lingering on the acoustic guitar hidden next to the couch, if not for the neck that sticks up like a tower.

“Harry?”

He snaps around at the sound of her voice. She notices then how his pockets restrain his hands from reaching out to caress the curve of fine wood.

“Sorry, erm ... I got kind of distracted here. Sick guitar you’ve got.”

“Thanks,” she mumbles, her expression softens at the instrument that she has not touched in months.

“You play?”

“No.”

“Your roommate?”

Harry unveils his hands and stretches them out to the empty space in front of the guitar. He raises his eyebrows in an unspoken question, to which she nods and watches as he picks up and marvels at the memory.

“Not exactly,” she answers.

He does that head tilt again and cradles the dusty instrument with care. His fingers drag down the strings in a lazy fashion, ears attentive as he begins to tune it.

“See, when the two weeks that my ex gave me to move out were up, he was leaving to play a crowd at some bar downtown.”

A visible frustration compels Harry’s hands to freeze. His face maintains that well-known solemn that people gawk over. She would be the same, if not for the severe intimidation that she now feels as she continues her story.

“He didn’t say it, but I could tell that he was expecting me to be gone by the time he got back. I still had so much to pack up, and Aaron wasn’t expecting me to move in so soon, and not only that, but I also had all these emotions that were just incredibly out of control. I don’t even think they were pregnancy hormones, just plain stress and I didn’t know what to do about it. So, I may or may not have taken his guitar with me.”

Harry’s face illuminates with surprise. “You stole his guitar?” The instrument suddenly feels heavy in his hands.

“Kind of ... he has another one though! He never really plays this one anymore. Well, obviously he can’t play it anymore, but ... I don’t know, something just came over me! I know you always say to treat people with kindness, but I was really angry and really upset and too scared to vandalize anything, so I just kind of ... took it. If you ask me, it’s more of a burden on myself because it really does take up way too much space—”

Harry stops the continuous flow of her words by stating her name. It is firm and to-the-point, enough to make her tongue slither back behind her teeth. The seconds are ticking away, fingers nervously fumbling together in a knot. Harry sets the cursed instrument back onto it forgetful home next to the couch and considers her story carefully.

“I tell people to treat others with kindness,” he begins, stepping closer to her, “because it’s how I think people deserve to be treated. When it comes to him, I think you’ve done just that.”

It is fair to say that Harry makes her smitten as her demeanor turns bashful. He has some way of making her feel sane, making her feel as if there is a beauty that transcends all of the mucky, grimy dirt in the world.

“Really?” she squeaks, the corners of her mouth pulling upward.

“Of course. I think it even further illustrates your resilience.”

He seriously needs to stop before I start crying again.

“I um ... I should’ve sold it by now.” She shrugs at the lifeless object that haunts her with a distant memory. “It makes the most sense, but I just don’t know why I ... can’t. Aaron sometimes messes with it though, so I guess it’s good for something.”

“Erin? Your roommate?” Harry asks, which pries out a nod from her. “Hmm. Well, I do understand what you’re trying to say.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. You loved the bloody dickhead, right?”

The woman laughs at his assertive language, but it cuts off with an almost weak cry. Yes; she loved him.

“A part of you still holds onto that. It’s completely normal.”

“Or pathetic.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “If it were pathetic to hold onto people you’ve loved in the past,” he moves around her, bends down, and lifts up the pillow with ease, “then anyone who’s ever written a song about someone else is a complete pity party. Now tell me, do you think that’s true?”

He leaves the question open for her response, but he doesn’t wait for her to muster it out. Instead, Harry follows the exact path she had previously went down, into the hallway and through to her bedroom. His quickness takes a second for her mind to register, but she soon trails after him.

“Um, I guess not.”

Harry sets his gift down on her full-size mattress. He steps back, hands on his hips, proud over his act of kindness. He side-eyes her, discreetly smirking at her discomfort and uncertainty.

“Fine. I’ll take that answer.”

He doesn’t examine her room as he had done with the rest of the unit. He instead gets down to it and tears away the plastic wrap. He frees the plush material of the pillow and balls up the broken seal.

“You want to try it out?” Harry offers, setting the plastic crumble onto the floor to discard later.

Her hesitance and fear does not disperse. “Try it out?”

“Yeah, sure. Test it out. See if it’s comfortable enough. If not, I can change it for another one.”

“Oh, that’s ... not necessary. It’s a pillow, I’m sure it’s fine.”

“We all have our own preferences. You won’t know it’s fine until you test it out for yourself.”

Deep down, he knows he’s gotten it right. She assumes that he has a need for perfection. If not, it is his constant worry that has probably double-checked the damn thing a dozen times before delivering it to her in person. It’s enough that he appears at her home when she is in her most slump attire, but now he wants her to lie down in front of him, to break down her defenses if just for one moment to test out this silly pillow.

“Okay, I guess that’s true.”

She agrees to his suggestion rather quickly, but overthinks how to get on the bed without it being either unintentionally sensual or incredibly awkward.

She decides to just bend a knee at the end of the mattress, crawling up a couple inches and then shifting on her bottom. She scoots herself further up, turning onto her side as Harry lifts the pregnancy pillow. He carefully turns it up and over her head, resting it in a backward C-shape with the curve of the pillow against her back.

“So ... does it like ... go between my legs or something?”

She sinks into the plush material of the pillow, pulling the bottom end between her knees and squishing it.

“Erm ... yeah. Think so. That’s what the picture looked like. And the long part supports your back.”

She shuffles around, a hand on her belly as if it needs guidance alongside her. “I’m being so dramatic,” she admits. “My belly’s not even big enough for me to be complaining yet.”

“Uh-uh. There’s no argument when it comes to your comfort. You can’t sleep on your back or your stomach without it, so it is helping you out.”

“Okay, yeah, but ... oh.”

Harry crouches down to her eye-level, narrowing his eyes at her remark. “Oh?”

“Oh,” she confirms, snuggling into the pillow. “Oh, my back...”

“What’s wrong with it? Does it hurt?”

“No!” she exasperatedly laughs. His concern is persistent, but cute nonetheless. “This pillow has so much support for my back. And it’s so ... firm. And comfortable. And it smells nice.”

Harry smiles at her bliss. Her eyes flutter shut, and she digs her head deeper to breathe in the soft material.

“It’s alright, then?”

“Alright?” she opens her eyes, a close-lipped smile across her bare face. “Yeah, Harry. It’s alright.”

The moment proceeds with silence. She marvels at this new treasure of hers; Harry watches her with very great care. His legs begin to burn due to the prolong crouching position that he is in, so he settles himself down on the floorboards. His knees bend in front of him, his hands locking by the fingers around them.

A small conversation ensues thereafter, small little remarks over how her experience is going, the hassle he had gone through to get it for her, and harmless small talk that reveals a little bit about their drastically different lives.

She’s not sure how much time has passed until she hears the front door opening. The sound of crackling plastic bags mixes in with the jingle of keys, but she doesn’t relax until she hears the lock of the front door.

“I got your avocados!”

The deep voice makes Harry do a double-take. His acquaintance lets out a squeal and rises from her bed, shifting to plant her feet on the floor. She reaches down to tug on his arm, without realizing that this is the first she has actually touched him in the two separate times that they’ve met.

“C’mon, you can meet my roommate,” she whispers. “He’s going to freak out!”

“He?” Harry questions, but the woman is already out the door.

When his 24-year-old body eventually gets up and strolls down the hallway, he leans against the closest wall and begins his observation. There is a tall man in his sights whose back faces him. This guy, who he now realizes is not Erin, but Aaron, un-bags the groceries on the same kitchen counter that his pregnant roommate somehow manages to prop herself up on.

“...so expensive, you can buy them yourself next time.”

“Don’t act if you’re not going to enjoy them, too.”

“You’re lucky I even got you the Twizzlers on top of your Sour Patch Kids. They ran out of pistachio ice cream, by the way. I’m not sure how. Who even eats pistachio?”

The terrible news makes the woman’s jaw slowly fall, but when she notices Harry, the gape of her mouth turns upright.

“Aaron,” she begins, “I have a surprise for you.”

“I don’t want it.”

“It’s a good surprise!”

“I don’t think any scheme you come up with can ever be good.”

“Just stop being stubborn and turn around!”

Aaron glares at the woman suspiciously before cautiously turning his body around. His body jolts back, frightened by the unfamiliar third person, until his face suddenly goes slack.

“Holy shit,” Aaron breathes out, recognizing the luscious curls and wonderfully structured face. “What the fuck? What – he’s, that’s...”

“He’s Harry,” the only woman in the room announces, then looks to the Cheshire man. “This is Aaron, my roommate if you couldn’t tell.”

He can tell. He can also tell that his presence dumbfounds Aaron. What he doesn’t know is how much she had raved about him to Aaron the day following their first meeting. Her roommate had been incredibly jealous, insisting that he joins her on her next treat-yourself-Friday.

“Pleasure.” Harry forces a smile, steps forward, and holds his hand out for him to shake.

Aaron nods, still overwhelmed when he grips onto Harry’s hand. His hold is so tight, as if he never wants to let go.

“Harry Styles,” Aaron states, laughing at the image of the curly-headed man. “This is ... I don’t even want to ask. This is just perfect. Holy shit.”

The woman finds amusement in her roommate’s profanity. She laughs at him while Harry stands there and watches the twinkle grow in her eyes. He starts to feel uncomfortable, the space making him feel as though he is an outlier and does not belong.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Harry raises his wrist, focusing his vision to the watch clasped around. “I’m afraid I have to be heading out.”

The two people in front of him become dejected at his announcement. “Really?” the pregnant woman asks. The hour seems to have gone by far too quickly.

“Yes. I have ... um, something came up on my schedule.”

Aaron sighs. “Damn. That sucks.”

“Yes.” Harry simply nods. “Yes, it does suck, but I’ve really enjoyed my time here. Erm...”

He contemplates the idea that flashes through his mind. In a short few seconds, he fights with himself, imagining if any consequences can come out of it. He says her name anyway, without fully establishing a proper intention.

“Do you have a pen? And something I can write on?”

At his request, the two roommates instantly separate. Their busy bodies frantically search the messy unit for exactly what he needs. She finds a blue pen with its cap missing from the drawer in the kitchen; Aaron runs to retrieve a yellow sticky note from his bedroom next to hers.

“Here,” he says, a little out of breath, but still managing to flash a charming smile.

Harry thanks him, then steps forward to place himself in the space between the two roommates. He sets the sticky note down on the kitchen counter and leans over to scribble something with the colored ink.

“You seem to have everything well under your control here. Aaron obviously helps you tremendously.”

The other man smiles excitedly at the way his name drowns in Harry’s English accent.

“But if you ever need something, please...” Harry straightens up, peeling the sticky note off of the counter��s flat surface. He scans it over quickly, then turns to his right to present it to her appropriately. “Don’t hesitate to call this number.”

The woman projects her head back, blinking profusely at the blue digits staining the single sticky note. From over Harry’s shoulder, Aaron’s eyes are wide and bright, but she can’t focus on them. Her head begins to spin, eyes squinting as if to steady the ever-turning world.

Normally she would find it within herself to reject his kind offer. She would tell him with a sweet smile that it is okay, that she is fine the way she is, despite wanting nothing more than to see him again. This gesture of his is so unexpected that she is taken aback and lost at what she is to do.

“Um ... thank you,” she settles on, fingertips pinching on the thin note. She doesn’t know what she will do with it, but for now some other mindless part of her guides her actions.

Harry smiles, relieved that she accepts his proffer. He stares at her a little longer; the way she instinctively shelters her baby mesmerizes him.

“Alright, well. I must be off. Thank you for inviting me into your lovely home.” Harry turns around to Aaron, who is thankful that his cheeks do not turn red from embarrassment. “Nice meeting you.”

“An honor,” Aaron says, gripping onto his hand one final time. When Harry turns away and proceeds to the door, the other man cringes at his choice of words.

She follows after him, watches as he unlocks the door and unlatches the gate. The sun whips its fiery flames on the skin of their warm bodies, but Harry ignores the heat to turn around and gently embrace her. His gesture takes her by surprise, but she acts quickly and presses her hands against the back of his shoulder blades.

“Lovely seeing you again,” Harry mutters her name. His large hand stings on her back, the anchor on his wrist hooking her in. “I hope you like the gift. Until next time?”

When he pulls away, she isn’t in the right state of mind to respond with words. Instead, she nods in agreement and gives him a measly wave, just as she had done on the first night. While Aaron begins to silently thrash around in the kitchen, she watches Harry descend to the ground just as the black vehicle conveniently pulls up to the curb.

She watches him from the door, this time for the entire duration until his car disappears beneath the autumn skies. The yellow sticky-note is heavy in her hands, the idea of meeting with him again tickles her bones. He has been so kind to her, enough that she wonders how fortunate her little family is to receive such endearment.

Even if she has not felt her child move yet, she knows that they are just as touched by it as she is.

#honeytryst

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justbwi · 6 years

Text

For The Time Being (ch.3)

this story is set in an alternate universe where time has become the universal currency and people, born with a digital clock on their forearm, stop aging at the age of 20

Pairings: Jungkook x reader (ft. taehyung)

Word Count: 3.8k

Genre: dystopian au / fluff / angst

Warnings: building sexual tension still pg13

Chapters: 01 l 02 l 03

Summary: where you fall into Jungkook’s grasp and there is no time for escape

a/n: sorry for the long wait D: i’m probs the slowest writer in this world shame on you tiff :/ pls stay tuned tho i promise to write whenever i can

Time was ticking fast.

“Are you just going to sit there and watch?”

You were too focused on the clock hung daintily on the wall to answer. It was strange to know that such thing still existed when everyone else has learnt to pay more attention to the one running in their veins instead.

The clock arm made a disturbing sound as it flicked to the next second. You frowned and figured it displeased you the same way basking in the afternoon sun was.

“Jimin-ah, can we go home now?” You shouted over the humming of beetles. Summer was intolerable enough itself. Why did your brother have to make it even more so by running in the heat?

The said boy craned his neck slightly backwards, his eyes always genuine and soft. “Y/N, come on,” he calls. “We came to have fun, remember? Besides, running makes me feel-“

Alive.

You finished the sentence for him in your heart and secretly waited for the applause in celebration of a right guess. But, the clap never came. In fact, you would never know what he was about to say as his voice had been cut off so abruptly that as soon as you had your glance landed upon the tracks he was on minutes ago, you found him lying flat against the scorching ground instead.

“Jimin! Park Jimin!” You rushed to his side, chest heaving out of anxiety.

He was knocked unconscious, face made direct impact with the solid Earth. One would be mistaken to think that he had been asleep save for his crossing of eyebrows. The cruel sunlight cast shadows under the lashes and made beads of sweats form on his forehead.

He was in pain.

You shook him violently. “Jimin! Wake up!”

The green light, discernible to your peripheral vision, came afloat under Jimin’s skin, but you had cared less. You only wanted him to come around and repeatedly tell you that he was fine as if he was chanting a mantra while he wiped the hot, burning tears away as he always do when you are upset.

“Please…please…” You pled to the gods you had never laid faith on, knowing that there was nothing you would not give up in exchange for them to ease their grips on Jimin’s lifeline.

Within seconds, your vision grew blurry and you could taste salt on your lips. Your mind was a whirl of chaos and filled with desperate thoughts. Even as Jimin’s eyelids fluttered open weakly, you had reckoned it a delusion fate had so cruelly put in your way.

“Y/N,” Jimin drawled, the strength in him practically seeped out with each syllable. His eyes widened at the sight of you crying, and instinctively, took your face in his hands. “Why…why are you crying, silly?”

You blinked hard, attempting to brush the hallucination away. “Jimin.”

As he lifted his arm and your cheek perfectly housed in his grasp, you faintly and officially regarded the new instalment in his body which was glowing and…ticking.

Jimin followed your stare and was able to catch on your train of thoughts right away. He was not surprised or confused, nothing you had experienced over the short span of him passing out in the sun earlier.

“It’s my birthday.” His comment was brief and plain, accompanied with a smile which did not quite reach his eyes. But, it was enough for both of you to understand why he suddenly fainted not long ago. You have heard rumours of people reacting differently to the first appearance of ‘the clock’, but witnessing one in person formed a completely uncanny piece of memory you wish to eradicate.

You gazed at his clock as the digits went from 9 to 0. The countdown seemed to affect you more than Jimin himself. Now, his life was also put to a limit. You were, at some point, at a loss for words as if your throat was filled with rocks of sharp edges that would cut open your flesh should you make a sound.

You stared at him, tears continued gliding down.

“Please d-don’t die, Jimin..” You stuttered among incoherent sobs. “…don’t die.”

Jimin chuckled. “I won’t,” he cooed as he swiped his thumb across your cheekbone.

“I will stay by your side and protect you.”

Always.

"Y/N. Y/N?"

Taehyung watches you stir in your sleep, troubles evidently edged between your brows. He was on the verge of bringing up his embarrassing childhood memories when you dozed off. The sight of you mumbling inaudible words while clinging onto him has been too precious for someone to disturb, and he would do anything to keep it that way until your body started shivering, your forehead covered with perspiration and your muscles essentially tensed as if you were ready to run. That was when the boy sensed that something had gone wrong and had to wake you up against his will.

"Y/N," he calls again.

Your eyes flutter open in an instant, the stare hazy and hollow. You are panting as you regain your senses, the realisation that you are riding with a stranger who is likely to report this abnormality to Jungkook, provided that the two of them are friends, dawns on you. You cannot share your secrets and weaknesses with them because these people, who live in an utterly different universe than yours, would only figure out a way to use them against you.

"Are you…alright?" The brunet suggests worriedly as he grimaces, recalling the previous scene. "You were practically trembling. Bad dreams, I suppose?"

It was not merely a nightmare. You were suffering. Everyday passing without Jimin, your haven, is a torture itself already. You thought to yourself. You do not need dreams to remind you of what you have lost.

"I'm sorry," you blurt out instead of admitting the sickening truth, not intending to disclose more of yourself even as Taehyung is paying you the earnest gaze.

Taehyung laughs, his hands nimble on the wheels. "For what?"

"For falling asleep. It doesn't mean that your stories are boring at all. It's just-" You are trying to make up excuses for what he might be thinking after you have slept on him, but your brain does not work as effectively as it normally does, apparently still clasped in the claws of nightmare.

"You are tired. I totally get it," Taehyung replies with a smile you have almost mistaken it for a sympathetic one. It keeps you wondering if rich people like him, practically immortal people like him, would be able to understand such concepts. "Working with Jungkook is already exhausting because he is such a perfectionist and he expects the best from everyone around him. Can't imagine what working for him is like."

You stifle a chuckle, hoping not to show any contempt for your master but knowing that Taehyung has just spoken the greatest truth of them all.

Taehyung catches the playful glint in your eyes and beams. Even though you are still wary of him, it seems that he is determined to show you that he strays from your stereotypical wealthy heir of whatever inherited corporation existing in Gangnam.

"Say it," the boy nudges you with his arm as the car comes to a halt, the unblinking red traffic light in huge contrary to the jumping digits on your exposed arm.

"What?" You glance at the rear-view mirror, the Jeon's mansion was long out of eyesight.

Taehyung takes a deep breath and nods as if he knew what your heart has been shouting ever since you left Incheon to live an even more miserable life. “Jungkook is…” he prompts.

"- a jerk." The two of you miraculously chant in unison.

You laugh in the most genuine way for the first time ever since you have been thrusted into the Jeon mansion, all the tension and stress abandoned in the darkest corner of your mind.

All thanks to Taehyung.

“Right, here we are. Let’s go!”

You watch as he bounce off the driver’s seat, heading to the grocery store with an overflowing surge of enthusiasm, which you greedily steal a share of. A little blitheness when you are away from Jeon won’t hurt after all, will it.

Taehyung's love for strawberries and basically anything that tastes sweet continues to fascinate you as he wipes the shelves clean at the dessert section, boxes of candies piling up in the trolley.

"Dark or milk chocolate?" The boy holds out two packages extravagantly adorned with ribbons and waves them at you.

It takes a few seconds before you realise that he was asking for your advice. Honestly, you have barely had chocolate before, except that one time when Jimin came first in those Inter-school competitions where the winners were awarded with a decent amount of time wrapped nicely in a capsule, and he had spent all that on such luxury to cheer you up after a fight. You soon realise that all chocolate basically taste the same – pure and sweet – as Jimin.

"Milk," you reply with a shy smile, remembering that only piece of chocolate you have ever had.

Taehyung beams and grabs two milk bars from the shelves, adding them to his fountain of desserts.

To your surprise, the boy finally decides that it is enough for the day and heads straight to the cashier when you were already looking for escape routes just in case you were stuck within the store long past its working hours. You have your forearm exposed to the staff as the tags are being processed and you silently hope that your digits would be returned the moment you went back to the Jeon mansion.

"Take mine." Taehyung's words jolt you out of your cloud of worry. Rolling up his sleeve, he shrugs at you nonchalantly. You watch his digits disappear around his wrist, the lavish life getting sucked out of him bits by bits.

"Why?" The two of you are out in the parking lot when you can no longer hold back your curiosity.

Taehyung pauses in front of you, his left hand occupied with packages of food, his right on the door handle.

He looks at you, dumbfounded. "What do you mean?" He is wearing a unadulterated smile, the kind that should not be present after a painful slice in one's lifeline, though willing.

You do not have the courage to return the gaze lest evident shame runs wild in your eyes. "Earlier. Why did you..." sacrifice on my behalf.

Taehyung simply chuckles. He rummages through one of the largest packages and in it comes through the bar of milk chocolate beautifully wrapped in silver. "Here you go," he offers as if it was an everyday treat.

"Working for kookie can be demanding sometimes, but trust me, there is still a gentle heart hidden somewhere deep within his unyielding armour. You just have to look closer." He starts the car engine, the navigation set to work on a return trip to the Jeon mansion. "Until then, you can hold onto this piece of chocolate. It can always brighten up your day."

The ride back is tranquil. You have never been that at ease with someone since Jimin. This brunet at the driver's seat has not treated you like a servant as most of the people in Gangnam do. He does not stare at your exposed forearm as if the same pulsing underneath did not run in his own system. He calls you by your name, wiping out the filth others see at its edges with a gracious beam.

With him, you can feel normal again.

Almost.

Not until there comes a voice so familiarly unwelcome which breaks all signs of comfort bubbling in you.

"What takes you so long?" His voice is laced with irritation. It makes you shrink back to your disposable self, avoiding the trigger to his timed bomb.

Taehyung thinks otherwise. He takes two long strides towards the trunk, retrieving the shopping bags which should be handled with by someone like you instead. A servant.

"Well...I may have been loitering around the sweets section for a few more minutes than I usually do," the boy sheepishly grins, flashing the dozens of shopping bags in his grip and heads for the front door himself.

You quickly moves to stand in his way, recalling your status in this household. It could have been an ordinary sight for him to carry those bags in public and you could simply appreciate how gentlemanly he is, but now that you are back to the mansion where Mr. Kim is constantly checking up on you to make sure you know your place as a servant, you just cannot risk another delay in the distribution of time capsules. Unfortunately, Taehyung does not have the intention to give in.

"Y/N, can you get the door for me?" The brunet asks with a sweet smile you are trying to engrain in your mind. It is so bright that you almost comply. You bet you will do anything he wishes under such influences.

"Master Kim, let me have those," you gesture at the gift boxes, the words unintentionally coming out as pleads. "Please."

Taehyung shakes his head in disapproval. "Not until you know how to address me properly," he knowingly smirks.

You gulp visibly and whisper, hoping that you would not get into trouble because of this. "Tae..."

"Such a good girl," Taehyung grins as he gradually unloads some of the lighter packages in your arm, the ruffle of your hair coming at last. You can feel the growingly familiar warmth radiated from him and smiles back on reflex. You almost get lost in this new reverie until a cold and harsh voice brings you back to life.

"Y/N."

You turn towards the source and find Jungkook staring at the two of you. His face is adorned with rage and something you cannot quite pinpoint.

"Yes, Master Jeon?" You abruptly detach yourself from Taehyung's touch although you already start to miss his gentleness the second you drift away from him.

"My tie," Jungkook emotionlessly utters.

You look at him blankly and wait for him to spill out another word but there is nothing. He just stands there as if that was enough for interpretation. He is apparently not wearing a tie at the moment, so with him mentioning one can only mean one thing.

"It's in the washer, I suppose," you reply after taking a wild guess at his supposed question and return to helping Taehyung with his bags.

Jungkook scowls. "I need it now."

"But Master Jeon, it's-"

"I don't want to repeat myself."

You nod defeatedly, knowing there is absolutely no room for argument when Jungkook is concerned. If he wants something, he always gets it regardless. Besides, you are in no place to put up a fight either.

You give Taehyung an apologetic smile as he waves you off, heading to take more of the bags out from the trunk while Jungkook has no intention to help. The latter boy smirks in victory despite the fact that he still manages to sound bored with everything.

"In ten minutes. My room."

The problem with Jeon Jungkook is that he is too much of a perfectionist. There is no room for defiance when it comes to his order no matter how demanding or practically impossible it might seem to the common eye. The Jeons always get what they want, while servants like you exist to make sure of that.

That explains why you are currently in the master en-suite, blow-drying that damned flap of clothing which should have dried itself a few hours later under mechanical force instead of an inefficient labour if it has not untimely crossed Jungkook’s mind.

You have your back pressed against the counter and let the sound of the hairdryer drown out the rest of your thoughts. But that does not stop the train of cruses pouring out, unprocessed and directly addressed to Jungkook’s overwhelming arrogance. You are too focused on improvising the variations of swear words the boy is able to provoke in you that you forget the door to the en-suite is left ajar.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure we’ll see each other in hell,” Jungkook states as he walks in.

“Master Jeon.” You quickly straighten up, eyes darting everywhere but him as if you were a child caught sticking your hand halfway through the cookie jar. You are still figuring out what exactly is oozing off in his wake that has left you feeling agitated whenever he is around.

Jungkook extends a hand towards you.

Up close, you can see the scarce callouses worming their way into his palm. They are the trails left behind hours of hard work and labour, symbols of poverty you are bound to be affiliated with, not someone as wealthy as Jungkook should be bearing. You are intrigued by this small similarity the two of you share and suddenly find yourself anticipating more. You want to know where he could possibly get them from and why he would have allowed them to stay. But before you finish getting prepared for your death wish, he once again cuts you off, poking at the bubbles of imagination which are precariously growing at a high speed.

“Tie.” He gestures with a hint of annoyance, just enough to catch your attention.

“Oh,” you mutter, mostly to yourself. The tie is apparently not in its best condition for the wearer but if he insists to put it under his reign, you would simply have to obey.

You bow out of propriety without meeting his glare, the wanted object offered between the two of you. However, Jungkook does not even bulge. He remains as a still frame and waits as though you were meant to do something more than what you have been doing.

Unfortunately, you have no intention to solve this riddle, let alone clear the fog clouding your head ever since his absurd reaction towards the exchange between Taehyung and you.

“Master Jeon?” You feigned innocence as your glance flickered towards the set of his jaw.

He takes a step forward and dips his head in the direction of the tie in your hand. “Aren’t you supposed to do it for me?”

You blink at this simple request. Is he actually asking something from you instead of barking out commands?

“But…I don’t know how.”

A light shade of pink spreads across Jungkook’s sharply crafted cheekbones. He seems flustered because you have practically turned him down for the second time in a day, and you are not sure if you are finding this side of his adorable when you should be apologizing and begging at his mercy at the moment.

“You don’t know how to do a tie,” Jungkook lets the words swing on his tongue and steps closer to your still figure, his stare never wavers. You gaze right back at him, throat tight, when he places his hands on either of your shoulders and pivots you to look at the mirror behind. Long gone was his timidity, replaced by a predatory glint in his gold-specked iris.

Jungkook presses his body close to yours, his hot, minty breath fanning against the nape of your neck as he speaks. “Let me teach you.”

You are hyper-aware of his hand movements when he swiftly plays with the fabric, looping it around your neck in demonstration. His long, slender fingers graze your skin every now and then, setting it on fire. You can feel the walls pressing in on you, count the number of breaths you take and taste Jungkook’s signature cologne on your lips, the smell of musk wafting from his collar.

The room suffocates you.

He suffocates you.

“M-Master-” you purr, sanity drifting further and further away from your grasp. You squirm uneasily in his half-embrace as if that was enough to snap yourself out of this unexplained enchantment.

Jungkook smiles lazily, his left hand tracing patterns around your clock. You are sure it is not included in the steps of doing a tie.

“Call me Jungkook,” he breathes, his mouth desirably close to back of your ear. “The way you so casually did with Tae.”

You are too caught up by this proximity that you fail to catch the undertone of warning in his voice. So, you obey. “Jungkook.”

The boy smirks triumphantly, noticing how much he is affecting you. “Tell me. Who are you working for?”

Enthralled by the proximity, you finally let yourself succumb to this undoubtfully attractive man and the growing heat pooling between your thighs. Your brain and body seem to focus on nothing but Jungkook, his slightly sultry look invading each and every corner of your consciousness.

Automatically, you utter the only word you have been taught to memorise. “Jungkook.”

“Who is keeping you alive?”

You momentarily tear your gaze away from his inviting eyes with pains. The green digits throbs persistently beneath your skin. But, for the first time in forever, your heartbeats are outrunning them. “Jungkook.”

“And still, you fall for Taehyung, huh?”

The mention of the sun-kissed brunet pulls you at halt. You recall his blinding smile and the few moments of elation flooding your heart due to his company. Although you are pretty sure that it could not have been profound affection you are starting to feel at the thought of him, you still cannot bring yourself to deny what Jungkook has said right away.

Sensing that he is not getting a reply from you, Jungkook simply scoffs. He finishes the last touches with the tie hung around your neck and tightens it a bit too much to your liking.

“Here. I expect you to do it for me next time.”

You nod although you know that it is not his teachings you have been focusing on earlier. You glance at Jungkook, who is now leaning against the threshold, the predatory glint in his eyes has long gone. The fact that he gets unacceptably close to you on purpose just to distance himself later both confuses and irritates you.

Perhaps, you are just a disposable toy to him. He clearly does not cherish your presence as much as Taehyung, but why can’t you stop thinking about him? You find yourself drawn to his half smile more than the other boy’s wide grin.

Jungkook seems to be so different from what he appears to be in public and you are tempted to look under his façade for some unspoken reasons.

“For the record.” Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of weird and treacherous thoughts. You turn your back to the mirror, his tie a mismatched accessory to your otherwise plain uniform.

“Tae is engaged.”

#jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fic #jungkook fics #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts scenario #bts scenarios #bts fic #bts fics #bts fluff #bts angst

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strechanadi · 6 years

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POB Swan Lake overthinking no. 783

I don’t have time for this, she said. I have to work on actual papers, she said. And here she is, writing shitload of words about another POB Swan Lake, since she’s a respectable, responsible adult human being.

(Dear @spinmelikeyoumeanit, this is purely your fault, please do know I hate you right now. Enjoy the madness and all the mistakes I am far too lazy to correct. If I’d be able to find them in the first place, that is.)

Shockingly enough, I was yet again asked to share my opinions on POB Swan Lake. And we all know the real meaning behind question „what did you think about SL?“ is in POB case „What did you think about Wolfgang/Siegfried relationship?“ Can’t quite believe that after the madness that was 2016 recording, someone think it healthy to let me dive into this once again. But you wanted it, so here we go!

You know, despite my academic title, that was supposed to made me educated in matters of history, theory, aesthetics, and who the hell knows what else of dance, I’m still just 5yo child in a overgrown body deep down. So watching anything on stage I am still very much driven by my feelings, my opinions formed by and based on my liking certain things and disliking others (and by disliking I mean hating – 5yo child, don’t forget that). I am all too well aware of my reviews, critics, even the supposedly professional ones, being strongly personal and not at all objective. (As I think is pretty clear even from bad English translations…) (And let’s not begin with the „is it even possible to write an objective, i.e. unbiased, review at all?“ let’s just… not.) (Because it surely is and it‘s just me, painfully incapable of doing so, and desperately trying to hide my own lameness by saying such things as „it can’t be done, so why wasting time trying?“) (However an essay on me and my way of writing things is absolutely different matter, that no one was asking for, and reasonably so. I’m going to shut up now and maybe even get myself to the point…)

Thinking about yesterday’s performance, there’s one feeling coming back constantly, no matter how valiantly I’m trying to fight it. It’s disappointment. And I HATE it! Partly because – come on, disappointment is not at all something one should feel after watching Nureyev’s POB SL, partly because it’s utterly absurd – the company was in top shape, 2nd and 4th act corps de ballet flawless, Nureyev’s choreography still one of the best I know. And yet…

It’s like I cannot be given POB SL I would like 150%, without questions, without reservations.

Don‘t get me wrong, I love the 2005 recording. It opened my eyes, it made me realize French technique is IT for me, it showed me Karl for the first time and made me fell in love with him (and with Wolfgang) the second he stepped on stage in prologue (if anybody ever tells you love at first sight doesn’t exist, well…). I utterly loved Agnes as Odette/Odile and after few years I realized I actually adore the costumes, the faded colours, the weirdly dreamy atmosphere. But even though I got to understand José Martinez and his interpretation of Siegfried at the end (like after 3 years, never said I was the brightest one), I still felt there’s something missing for me to be completely happy. (But then again, there was Karl the-best-Wolfgang-one-could-ever-hope-for Paquette, and that alone could make me happy for days!)

Knowing me you are probably a bit confused right now, because hello, you were obsessing over 2016 recording for literal weeks, you wrote utterly mad review on it AND another positively deranged essay on main characters, you were clearly unable to shut up about it for even 5 seconds, so what the hell are talking about now, not being 150% happy with any SL recording so far. Well yes, I got to see Siegfried I loved embarrassingly much, and Wolfgang/Rothbart that worked so well with him, that I was almost able to forget Karl (for exactly 27 seconds or so), but then there was Amandine, whose Odette was just… well… eh, nothing special, and as minor issue as it may seems, it still left the faintest bitter taste somewhere deep, deep down, thanks to which I simply couldn’t make myself to say – yes, this is the best Swan Lake of all Swan Lakes I’ve ever seen and you all should just stop with whatever you are doing right now and go watch it (even thought it was one of the best Swan Lakes I’ve ever seen and you all should stop with whatever you are doing right now and go watch it).

And now, now I got Odette/Odile with personality and strong charisma again, Wolfgang that is still more Rothbart that anything else, but that I got used to. And Siegfried, who I fucking hate. There. My inner child strikes again. In full force.

Honestly, Germain was my biggest disappointment. And kind of the only one, thinking about it now. It’s rather ridiculous, dismiss the whole performance because of one character, isn’t it? And that character being Siegfried. It’s not like there are not quite few SL with a bit boring princes, right? It’s kind of expected, not that shocking, is it? But hell – if I love Nureyev’s ballets it’s because he’s given his male heroes more time, more space, more dance, more personality. If I love Nureyev’s SL it’s because of Siegfried being the main character (and because of Wolfgang/Rothbart, because of corps de ballet, because of many other things, but you get my point, surely). This SL demands much from its main hero, and is not forgiving. Or maybe in reality it is and the unforgiving bitch is me. And rest assured I am. I love Siegfried. I love his character, the possibilities the dancer’s given in interpretation and I fucking love his variations. And Germain kind of killed everything, or almost everything for me. It is personal, of course it is, how it cannot be? But one just couldn’t mess one of the most beautiful variations ever made and expect I’d be just, you know what, whatever, your feet were pointed, your 5th position perfect, your technique overall crystal clear, and you are pretty, so who cares? Who cares about interpretation? Who cares about how it seems you have no idea, what you were doing 5minutes ago, what you are doing now and where your character is heading? God, Germain, please, this Siegfried is not just some other prince. He’s so much more than that. You could do practically anything with his character, built it the way you want, the way you are, the way you believe. Just use that pretty head of yours and what’s inside!

There were moments in act 1 (that, let’s be clear, sets the mood for the whole thing), that were promising. I loved what a child Siegfried was, how eager he was to pleased Wolfgang, what an adorable little puppy he could be. (And what is it with me and puppies lately?! First Armand, then one of Bourne’s princes, now Germain, when does this stop? I should choose different animal, seriously. Or different comparison altogether…), but the more promising these moments were – like the one, where Siegfried was looking at Wolfgang as (and I cannot describe it in any other way) a blushing virgin, which, and I swear, made me screamed so loud it could be heard across the ocean! - the more frustrating the outcome.

As I said yesterday, Germain’s Siegfried was like 5yo. You can tell just by looking at him the moment Wolfgang stopped him from following the other boys. I kind of expected Siegfried’s going to stamp his feet or something equally mature :D (but he just went and killed off my favourite variation) (I cannot watch it without screaming, so don’t make me just so you would know what exactly I found problematic).

If anything, his interpretation was simply incoherent. All right, you decided to portray your prince as a child, so pure, so clueless, fine. But if the only thing you can do is one smile, it’s too little, and it is really hard to make your character convincing and not simply annoying after 5 minutes. (Yeah, we got it, you are dreamy, starry eyed kid, cool, could you maybe do something different now? ANYTHING?) But OK. Still could work. But then there’s Siegfried’s variation at the end of act 1. And suddenly you are acting like the teenage prince who is about to marry, who is forced to become and adult and who is scared and has his doubts and all that, but – there was exactly NOTHING before in your way of building your character, that would justify such change. No self-doubt during whole act. None. Zero. Who are you trying to convince now? It’s not going to work all of sudden! And then, another ultimate favourite part of mine – Siegfried/Wolfgang duet. And Siegfried is yet again his unsuspecting, depending, pure baby self. And reading this, you may think, OK, well it could make sense, don’t be such a bitch about it. But it didn’t make sense. The whole interaction had so much potential from Francois‘ part and almost nothing from Germain in return (apart from his perfectly perfect legs – I swear, should he spent as much time thinking about his character as much as he seemed to be thinking about his technique, what an interpretation we could‘ve seen)!

Someone on twitter or somewhere said Germain did his variations beautifully, but they looked more like from concours, than from an actual performance. And that’s exactly it. Not just he became all melancholic out of blue, but the second he was about to do a sissone or a pirouette or a developpé or anything, he was all about technique, about pointed feet, about jump higher and I wanted to scream (so I did).

What hurts me the most is knowing it really, truly could have made sense. Were Germain’s presence more genuine, more real… (or at least consistent!)

Francois was his usual self as Wolfgang. Still more Rothbart in disguise (*sigh* I want Karl *more pathetic sigh*), smug smile on his face the entire time (I caught myself smirking with him, so he did something right, I’d say) (or maybe I’m just a bad person who would love too much to play with this Siegfried and make him suffer without him even knowing what’s going on) (I told you he was annoying, didn’t I?), he was aware of his power, he was using it freely, enjoying himself (maybe in a bit more reserved manner than in 2016, more for his sake, than for show, even though he could probably laugh at Siegfried’s face and the prince would still run to him happily). And there was Siegfried, all wide eyes, unguarded smiles, so out of touch with anything he physically needed Wolfgang to hold his hand to take him here and there (at one moment pretty disturbing idea crossed my mind – how it would be easier for Wolfgang to just have a leash… I sincerely apologize for my brain, I’d like to say it’s not my fault, truly, but it most probably is.)

Honestly – it was far too easy for Wolfgang this time. This Siegfried believed him implicitly, without question, without doubt, completely, unreservedly, with everything he has, while having no idea, while being completely unaware of a single thing going on around him, not to mention with him. Their relationship was (or could have been) (sorry, inner child, remember) even more uncomfortable, with all those touches literally all over prince’s body – his bare neck, his chest, his arms, his hands, and yet there was anything remotely sexual (not even intimately intimate – if it makes sense) between them. Which was a good thing, because that would be pure child’s pornography…

In act 4, Francois‘ Rothbart was positively mad. Like cartoon villain mad. And it is so not for me… (give me Karl, please, give me all his performances, and if it’s too much, give me just his 4 acts, that’s all I would ever ask for, pretty, pretty, pretty please with the whole cherry tree on top)

You know me (well you don’t, but you do in a way, which is terrifying and I hope you all have already come to terms with me have to kill you some day), I love looking for things, for meaning of this and that, analysing every tiny bit of one interaction between characters (i.e. overthinking everything and making up more and more insane theories) (this applies on ballet only, I’m literally unable to see anything that is not canon in literature/tv shows/films/whatever, so if I had the misfortune of stumble over fandom of one thing or another, I’m more often than not at loss for what the people are talking about, but that is probably just my own autism showing…) – but with this SL, this Siegfried, I had to try unreasonably hard to see something. And that’s simply wrong. The (over)analysing should be an outcome of pure need, that was brought into life by strong emotions you felt while watching something, it should come naturally. There should be no effort, no trying… It’s quite easy – heart, then mind. If there’s nothing in your heart in the first place, why bother your poor, overworked brain with it? While it probably doesn’t even exist. It doesn’t make sense.

So to sum this whole SL up, here you have my ultimate conclusion:

Siegfried wasn’t just autistic, he had serious mental affliction. I mean, weren’t Wolfgang right sadistic bastard, he could tell Siegfried to jump out of window, be done with it and spare himself all the effort.

And since it’s 3.30 AM again, I’m going to bed. To sleep. Not watching Siegfried variations when they were perfect and therefore the world still made sense… (God, it is I who have mental affliction!)

#ballet #swan lake #le lac des cygnes #overthinking #who needs sleep anyway #I clearly hate myself #woohoo!!!#also I'm clearly Karl-deprived #looking at you POB!

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