#i just really need an excuse to connect two comfort pieces of media together | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leverage-commentary · 3 years

Text

Leverage Season 2, Episode 10, The Runway Job, Audio Commentary Transcript

[Silence]

John: Marc?

Marc: Hi, I'm Marc Roskin, Producer and Director of this episode.

John: I'm John Rogers, Executive Producer, and the one with the Guinness, so you have no excuse for missing that cue.

Albert: And I'm Albert Kim, I'm the writer of the Runway Job.

John: Here we go. And this is a great opening sequence, what- is this a set Marc Roskin? How did you create this incredible look?

Marc: This is the largest girls school uniform factory on the west coast, and they-

John: So this is some sort of internet connection where you order school uniforms or-?

Marc: It was very hot. No, this was-

Albert: Strangely Marc knows a lot about girls’ school uniforms. I don’t know why, but-

Marc: Yes, this was an actual working factory. A lot of the background workers are some of the factory employees who knew how to operate the machines. It was right across the river, really close, and they opened their doors to us just like everybody did in Portland.

John: I love the fact that we wanted to do a fake sweatshop, so when we shot in there, when they saw the hours they shot the workers in the fake sweatshop, we're like, ‘These hours are horrible. How can you people work under these conditions?’ And Albert, since we’ve just seen someone collapse with these- this great shop, which, actually, I believe was the pitch. How did you come up with the idea for the episode?

Albert: Well as you know, I'm quite the fashion icon in the office, so it was quite natural for me.

[Laughter]

John: Yes.

Albert: No, I knew that I wanted to set an episode in the fashion world because it seemed like a fun environment to get into, and lots of great visuals and scenes with models and fashion designers and runway shows. So I knew the area was there, and then so the trick was coming up with a sympathetic victim, and then, as always, a credible villain and threat. So I did a little research and finding the victim wasn't too tough, because the real- in the real world, the fashion industry has sort of been dogged by allegations of sweatshop abuse for a while, so having the sweatshop victim came fairly easy. Finding the threat required a little more research, but as I dug into it, I found that it was actually a real world connection between sweatshops and global clothing counterfeiting, which is controlled by the Chinese Triads.

John: It's interesting because a lot of people talk about intellectual rights and stuff in new international treaties and people immediately think of movies, television, digital rights. A lot of it also involved intellectual rights on clothing.

Albert: Yes. Clothing counterfeiting actually counts for more of the income of these Triads than illegal narcotics trade. So it’s a huge billion dollar business for them and right then, sort of, the pieces fell into place for the elements of the episode.

John: And now these actresses are, Marc?

Marc: That is- um-

Albert: Jen.

Marc: Cathy Vu.

Albert: Cathy Vu and Jen Hong.

Marc: On our left and Jen Hong, and they were great though local Portland actresses. And they knew how to speak some Mandariarin and it worked out great. This was actually, in the shooting order, Jeri Ryan's first episode working with us.

John: Yeah, it's really interesting because, you know, the crew- the cast was genuinely kind of freaked out by Gina not being on set, and so a lot of the weird vibe you get on this episode is from ‘there's a new person’ and of course Jeri became great friends with everyone and really fit in, but it was a really interesting vibe the first couple days on set. It really felt like, yes, Jeri’s a new person here; we don't quite know how to handle it.

Marc: But we had to play it like she was already part of the team because we shot these out of order.

John: It does help that really you don't make her part of the team until the end of the previous episode.

Marc: Right.

John: This is almost a cold relaunch.

Albert: And we played that in the episode, too, so you sort of everyone's tentativeness around her worked well for the dynamics within- the character dynamics within the story as well.

John: And this is, again, this wass also a scene we added just to- It was interesting, we really wanted to make sure that everyone understood that Sophie- Because originally there was going to be a giant gap between episodes, we wanted to make sure everyone understood Sophie signs off on this. You know, audiences were very attached to Gina Bellman - rightfully so - and we did not want them to think we were shuffling her off and bringing in a new actor. We listen to you. Not a lot, not really.

[Laughter]

John: But we do listen to the bigger screams. Also love the callback there that Hardison screwed up in the Ice Man and that's what motivated this entire- this entire replacement.

Marc: We always like to bring up Hardison's screw ups; blowing up offices and whatnot.

John: Blowing up offices. But it's interesting that this is one of those trios where you just kind of park the camera and, you know, they have the dialogue, just let them run; let them do 4 or 5 versions, get the hell out of their way.

Albert: And this scene is really our version of: the kids are wondering where mommy went. You know, so it's like they are a little uncomfortable, it's a new family dynamic, so they're on the phone with her.

John: Yeah.

Marc: Right. But of course, they don't want dad to know that they are speaking to mom.

Albert: Yeah.

John: Yeah, and that's a- that actually started in Ice Man, where they are calling and not telling Nate. And we continued it all the way through where they just don't feel comfortable letting Nate know. And that was a nice little moment with Beth, you know, just ‘I miss you’. It's not often we crack the shell on Parker, that's part of the advancement of the character, to show that she's comfortable in the family, even if she’s not comfortable with other humans. And these two actors the- not those actors, that's stock photography- but the two actors playing the bad guys are?

Marc: Grace and what's her last name?

Albert: Grace Hsu and Tom Choi.

Marc: Grace was a Portland local, she was fabulous; and Tom came from Los Angeles. They did a really great job.

John: The con here is kind of convoluted. It's interesting, just watching this, is the idea that we really had to come into the fashion show from- the fashion industry is one of those industries where if you're inside it, you know everything. We had to constantly figure out, what does the audience need to know in order to understand what we're doing without overexplaining it?

Albert: Right. Again, this is a case where research helped. I mean, to actually looking into what happens during fashions shows. It's based on a real life event, Fashion Week, which normally takes place in New York though there are regional ones all around the country where there are big showcases for new designers as well as opportunities for the stylish designers to bring out their new lines and things like that. So we knew we had an event that was tied to a specific time which helped; it gave us a very limited time frame. And then, again, researching into how the Triads operate and what their connection is to the clothing industry. All of that just helped flesh out the con.

John: I love the Parker giving her instructions on how to be photographed, you know Sophie gave her instructions three weeks ago for some other con. And this was kind of fun, creating the idea for how do you create- in modern media, how do you create the illusion of an actual human existing for some period of time, object permanence to a great degree?

Albert: Right.

John: So you figured out how to- you know, my wife watches a lot of fashion TV and it was kind of backing up: how do I actually know who the hell any of these people are? And it was because of the fashion shows and magazines. Cover both of those and you're done. And DVRs have certainly been a boon. And also this, printing off one magazine it's actually easier than we made it look.

Albert: Yeah.

Marc: Oh yeah.

John: There's actually a service that prints off short runs of magazines that you can use if you're say doing a trade show or running a con.

Albert: This was all done on location. Beautiful house. This beautiful house in- was it in Clackamas?

Marc: Yeah, just outside of Clackamas.

Albert: It was great. It was a huge mansion that worked perfectly, and we ended up recreating the mansion later when we blow it up.

John: Also that what they're doing there, where they are looping, that's exactly what it looks like at Electric Entertainment - it’s basically just a laptop and a mic in the kitchen and that's how we finish up these episodes. No, but it was fun to be able to say, ‘Oh well, put the words on her mouth when we’re on her back, just like we do with actors.’

Marc: Right.

John: Presently, Tim Hutton delivers no more than 50% of the dialogue you hear per episode. We put the rest in his mouth later with a cunning Tim Hutton imitator. Yeah, this is to close off the sale that she's locked in.

Marc: Yeah, just to continue the sale.

John: Now Marc, you directed a bunch of episodes by this point, coming into this, right?

Marc: Yes.

John: And what was it like having a new human on the staff?

Marc: It was interesting. We- it brought a new life to it, and was interesting to see how everybody worked together. And she was just trying to get a feel for everybody and, you know, she was really easy going and said, ‘Listen, if you want a different performance, please, I'm here to help you guys.’

John: ‘Who likes to do this style? Who likes to do that style? Is that head writer really drinking that much in the middle of the day?’ Basic questions.

Marc: What is that smell coming from his trailer?

John: It's shame. It's the smell of shame. This scene was actually not in the original shoot, right? We wound up- this is one of the scenes that was: how much do we explain to the audience? Do they explain what Fashion Week is or isn't? And when we kinda looked at the first cut, it was like, you know what? I know because I watch it on Saturday morning on fashion TV, but we gotta make sure we establish the rules.

Albert: Right. Just a little more explanation as to how the fashion world works and where the con is going; just another step in the process.

John: And an excuse to get Aldis in orange.

Marc: Exactly and have Aldis in orange and Eliot in mascara.

John: That's eye makeup, that's not mascara.

Marc: Sorry.

John: Don’t. Please. Please, I don't want that phone call again, don't make that mistake.

[Laughter]

Albert: What's great about that factory, even this part of this set was also in that factory.

Marc: This was just another portion of it.

John: Wait, so all the dresses and stuff, did we bring those in or those were-?

Marc: Yeah, we just put up the bolts of fabric and some employees.

Albert: We spent a lot of time in that sweatshop.

John: Yeah. As one does.

Marc: As one does.

John: I love, by the way, in this episode, just watching what Kane is doing behind her during this scene. I'm- he's making a lot of interesting choices for Eliot there. Especially with the card snap coming up. And this was a lot of fun, too; this was a lot of the fun of the show is learning all the rules and idiosyncrasies of each industry.

Albert: Sure, that's part of the formula is figuring out what's the interesting world you can look into and then diving into and explaining to the audience how these worlds work.

Marc: Well it's funny, cause she needs to explain it to her teammates on the show.

John: And the card! I love the card delivery.

Marc: And the card the bam, yeah, you get to explain it to the teammates and explain it to the audience as well.

John: We’re really replicating what we’re doing in the room. Which is, one person knows the field pretty well and they explain- I remember when we did Iceman and we were talking about getting the serial numbers off the diamonds and Chris Downey was like, ‘I'm not following’ and I went, ‘It's like getting VIN numbers off a car’. ‘Oh, ok perfect!’ And that wound up in the script. Also this was fun having somebody who didn't know how the earbuds worked; it kinda reset the rules for the audience. And some beautiful- how did we get all this beautiful Boston stock footage?

Marc: Some we bought, some we shot.

John: You actually went out and shot a lot.

Marc: I did. Myself and Dave Connell spent a couple days running around the great city of Boston.

John: Now this is your directing debut, isn’t it Albert?

Albert: It wasn’t my debut, but it was probably the longest sequence I've done.

John: And it's just naked backs.

Albert: It was just tedious, grueling labor to just have to order these models around to take off their clothes and take off their shoes. No, it was great, it was. We already had the set, we finished the big scenes in the set, so Marc let me take a few people out and just get as much fun behind the scenes stuff you can, so that’s kind of where we ended up.

Marc: You and Norbert, right?

Albert: Yeah, Norbert. That was one of his first days there.

John: I love the hair. Whose idea was the Swiss Miss hair?

Albert: Well the other thing about this episode was hair, makeup, wardrobe, obviously had a field day with it. They were really excited about being able to put their best foot forward on a lot of this stuff, so they were able to-

Marc: Yeah, they really had a good time.

John: I also love the fact that Hardison is basically using CIA technique of human intel signals and analysis on the PA’s on a fashion show to figure out who’s in charge without actually figuring it out. It's a lot of fun, and our friend Apollo Robbins helped us out with the envelope slip, and it helps that Beth is very good-

Marc: This girl is great; she was a lot of fun, this girl, Caitlyn, Caitlyn Larimore. We- she read for us a few times on other things; we just knew there was gonna be something for her eventually.

John: So really, if you're looking to act, you should get out of whatever little LA or New York, whatever little hick town you're in and move to Portland because that's where you're gonna get some work.

Marc: Move to Portland; that's where it's gonna happen.

John: This actually hacking into the printer is something we've done before. A favorite trick of Apollo is to print stuff out in your office when you don't realize something is about to happen. And then the slide-

Marc: That wonderful calligraphy on those envelopes was my mother in-law’s.

John: Really? That's great.

Marc: Yes, Louise.

John: We didn’t pay her did we?

Marc: Oh god no.

John: Alright, just making sure. We are a cable show.

Albert: But she ends up featured as a featured extra in the episode, too. She's in the fashion show; you'll see her later staring down Parker.

John: Mother-in-law? You got your mother-in-law on tv?

Marc: That's right.

John: Wow, you're the best son-in-law ever. This actress- actually nice shot. We wound up repeating that character later. I remember we were kinda restructuring; we were like, ‘Oh, we can just use her again, that’s fine.’

Albert: I remember watching her read, and she was great at it, so we decided to, rather than use a separate character for a scene later on, just, you know, bring her back. And she wound up doing that scene later when they approach the security people.

John: Just some love for the extra, ‘Hey, how are you doing?’ A little something from Eliot just for you.

Marc: Just a little.

Albert: Well he had to know that if you're gonna do a fashion episode, one with lots of models, that Eliot was gonna be right in the thick of things there.

John: Yeah. And the overheard- How did you stage this? The overheard conversation is a staple of the show and the bane of all directors everywhere.

Marc: Yeah, we didn't have a lot of time on this day, but we figured out a way; just keep her in the background, eventually a couple close ups of her ears perk, and soon they'll drag her in deeper.

John: Now each one of them is doing a specific person. I can't remember, he's doing-

Marc: Lagerfeld.

John: He's doing Lagerfeld. She’s doing Donatella Versace. I can't remember the British guy that Hardison is locked in on, cause I remember Aldis actually had pictures of him. I’m trying to remember...

Albert: André Leon Talley from Vogue, who is the legendary creative director of Vogue. And he's sort of channeling him. But yeah, again, during the course of research-

Marc: I got my ladder shot in there, by the way. I'm just two for two on-

John: On having ladders in your-

Marc: Yeah.

John: That's good; that's excellent.

Albert: This whole set was built; this was the whole fashion show.

John: We actually built this in the museum that we shot the finale for 207 in, right?

Marc: No, this was just an empty warehouse.

John: Did we have permission?

Marc: Yes we did.

John: Good. Cause sometimes we don't; sometimes we just build stuff and then get the hell out before the cops show.

Marc: Yes, we used a lot of fabric to hide things.

Albert: But the beauty of it is, if you go to real fashion shows, it's kind of what it is. The highlight of fashions shows are supposed to be the clothes, so they keep the surroundings very minimal, and that's- that's always the idea of a fashion show. So luckily for us, it's fairly easy to recreate realistically as a set.

Marc: A lot of times it's just a wedding tent and a runway and chairs.

Albert: Well anyone who's watched Project Runway can see what it's like. It’s just a runway and some folding chairs.

John: I thought we built- that's interesting. Where did we go back to the museum for? I can't remember; it's gonna drive me crazy. Whose idea was the buckles?

Albert: Buckles was something I came up with in the script when I was trying to figure out how to explain what a poor designer Gloria is.

John: What's the one thing nobody likes a lot of?

Marc: Buckles.

Albert: So it became a little joke that someone that- someone, I think it was Chris actually pitched the joke about ‘pilgrim chic’ which we put in there, and found out later that that's actually kind of a real thing. If you make up any kind of joke in the fashion world you'll find out eventually that it's a real thing somewhere.

John: Yes.

Marc: This was actually the workers rec room, which was pretty much an open area room and-

John: You're kind of ruining the whole sweatshop vibe with, like, ‘They had a rec room.’

Marc: Yeah, they had a rec room and basically we've pretty much four walled it.

John: Yup.

Marc: And, you know, put in-

John: Which means?

Marc: To put up a wall to close it off.

John: So this is a bigger space behind him.

Marc: Yeah, it's actually pretty much the same size, but it's just a platform where they had their lunch table set up. But we liked the ability to have shots like that where we can look down onto the floor, it was always-

John: And then shoot back up.

Marc: It was always something that I know that you guys mention, that we wanna have more connection with our victims. So we placed that shot-

John: It is tricky, particularly when we’re doing complicated ones, you can lose track of that vic that's in the opening, and we really tried this year to tie it back a little bit more.

Albert: Yeah, it was interesting. I had a conversation with another writer just the other day about - who works on a crime procedural - and they have the same issue about how to connect with their victims. It's much harder for them because usually their victims are dead. So they show up in the beginning dead, and they can wrap things up with the relative of the victim at the end. If you notice, what a lot of crime shows do is they have flashbacks, so then you get to learn the personality of the victims through the flashbacks.

John: Oh, interesting.

Albert: So we don't do that, but our victims are alive so there are opportunities, like in this scene, to reconnect with the people who we’re working for and establish what our emotional stakes are.

John: And this is also one of the places where we sort of set up- and if you watch what we did with Jeri’s character, and sort of the difference between Sophie and Tara Cole. Tara Cole is a short grifter. Sophie is never gonna push it, she's never gonna try to get the big payout. And Tara’s job is to get in and get out with as much money as possible, so this is one of the times where we really sort of set up how she needs to adjust. Though when you look at the back half, we don't really change it that much. The team doesn't really change, it's- she kind of adjusts herself to fit in the team a bit more. They wind up using her short term push just as a different sort of batter.

Albert: Whereas personality-wise, there's something you told me I remember which helped make everything click which was - Tara is really kind of a guy’s girl. You know, she's the kind of girl who sits around and watches football with the guys on Sundays. Sophie is very much a girl's girl; she's out there doing the shopping and fashion and all that stuff. So that kind of distinguishes the two characters. Although they fulfill the same role within the team, they're very distinctive in terms of their personality.

John: But that's also from when we originally created the show. A lot of these characters have slightly different personalities, and the actors brought other personalities, and we realized as long as that job was fulfilled in the team, you can range pretty widely within there. How did you shoot- where the hell is she?

Albert: She's supposed to be-

Marc: Tashkent, right?

Albert: Tashkent. So-

John: Uzbekistan?

Albert: Yes.

John: Oh right there you go. Of course. ‘Cause Tashkent is in Uzbekistan. Who doesn't know that?

Albert: Right.

Marc: And yes, so we shot Gina on a much later date, during a later episode, and just one green screen and some stock footage behind a little wind machine and there you are.

Albert: And camels.

Marc: And some camels, yes.

John: As one has in Tashkent.

Marc: In Portland.

John: Oh no, we went to the Portland zoo see, I was hoping you'd give them the whole speech about sand, and yeah. That's a little bit of jealousy, a little bit of- and that was another thing, too, to make sure that Sophie wasn't just a character that you checked in with once a week. She had to have her own little arc that whenever you went to her she had a distinct attitude about the team. Yes and the reindeer gag, which I really foolishly insisted on keeping in the script because it was my favorite bit.

Albert: It was brilliant; it was great; it was all John.

John: That's mine. Whenever you see a joke that doesn't quite work and seems kind of doomed but we keep, that's usually me diggin in at the table, particularly if it's absurdist. Now did we put banners up or is that digital?

Marc: Digital. Those were digital banners on the building. Do our little whip pans to Eliot and whip back.

John: Just to establish, yes, he's with a model. Where do you think he was gonna be? And he’s out.

Marc: And he's angry he has to leave the model.

John: The- and again, it was interesting to, sort of, know that we had to plot out these arcs on the back six, and figuring out exactly, like, how do we show trust and acceptance? And, you know, you can do it in dialogue, but you don't want people talking about their intentions. And the ear bud became kind of an interesting metaphor; it goes in and out of use over the back six and even with Eliot we wound up using it.

Marc: Yeah, it's like the chief asking for your gun and badge.

John: Yeah, exactly. And it also solved the problem later when you know it’s- she shouldn't have heard X.

Albert: Right.

John: And that's a big problem on the show is in theory, if they can all hear each other’s conversations... Whereas a lot of cop shows, a big chunk of the time is, ‘What did you find out from witness x, Billy?’ What did you find out about witness y? Alright now let's put it together.’ They know. Now how did we do this blow?

Marc: Now that wass digital smoke, and that is a model.

Albert: Green screen model.

Marc: Yeah, we modeled the windows and actually shot it in our parking lot right here in Highland, in Santa Monica Boulevard.

John: Now we built- we do builds on the- building’s blowing up is better with models. The cars we've found we can do just digitally, but the buildings really look great with the model.

Marc: But we still use the model for the car as well. We just don't have the time or the money to do full explosions, you know, we do just a little aftermath with some debris and smoke.

Albert: Especially when it's someone's real house.

Marc: Yes.

Albert: Don't want to-

John: Generally they kind of frown on that, of just blow out the windows.

Albert: Because last year we did, Marc and I worked on another episode where we blow up a warehouse. And it was an abandoned warehouse, so you blow out the windows and break the glass, so it's not such a big deal.

Marc: Yeah, we did a little damage to the Prison Break set on that. What they shot was-

John: I remember, because I pulled up the day you were shooting that, I was like ‘I hope I haven't missed the blow.’ I was a quarter mile away and my windshield shook and I'm like OK, that was a little bigger than we anticipated’.

Albert: But this was a house with six kids was it?

Marc: Six kids, yeah.

Albert: So it was-

John: So blowing it up wouldn't have changed it all that much.

Albert: Probably not. Actually that family was incredibly neat.

John: And this is a lot of fun. And again, this is where, if you pay attention, we never tell you Tara’s backstory; if you pay attention all six episodes, you can figure out exactly what Tara used to do before she became a con woman. The information she knows, the way she puts stuff together, you’ll figure it out. Also the yelling. This was a lot of fun, because Eliot would be annoyed in this situation, and Chris Kane is never funnier than when Eliot is incredibly annoyed.

Marc: That’s right, and it's usually with Hardison.

John: Yeah. Thank you, I don't know how you make this show without phone cameras I really- we couldn't have made this show in 1978 this would've been a lot harder.

Albert: Or earbuds.

John: Or earbuds. Well earbuds we could've got around, but- no earbuds might have made our life easier, actually.

Albert: This was another thing that came up in research, actually, when I wrote a book about the Chinese Triads, and it is actually true that they're signature weapon is a meat cleaver. We looked at a few pictures of them, they're pretty impressive; they are really big and they have engravings on them, stuff like that. I've also looked at way too many pictures of victims of the Triads.

Marc: Yeah, missing fingers, and hands, and arms.

Albert: But that, again, it just added another fun element, knowing that there was, in reality there was a signature weapon that they use, and gave Eliot another fight scene.

John: Of course they'd be fancy meat cleavers, you're not gonna just pick a meat cleaver at Tesco or the kitchen section of Best Buy; you're gonna get one specially made. This was a lot of fun, too, something we haven't done in a while, which was watching Eliot figure out his fight space. You know, control access doing the math in this head. You know, it's always a little easier if no ones around him, just so he can tear people around a little easier. Fun stunt. Jerri did this, right?

Marc: Yeah, she was really nervous about doing her first fight with us, but she was a trooper; she did a great job.

John: She actually killed that guy. I feel a little bad about that, that's the first time we've admitted that, but you know. This was one of my favorite fights, cause we don't do a lot of weapon fights.

Marc: Yeah.

John: And it really reads well; the cleavers read real. Also we do a nice fight style with Chris here.

Albert: We did use cleavers back in the first season with the Wedding Job.

John: Oh that's right, we had the kitchen thing.

Albert: A kitchen thing. But it was a different kind of fight; it was a one on one in an enclosed space. This was an open space with multiple attackers ,and again, different props to use. So like, you saw the mannequin dummy there, and the rolling carts, and things like that, and so it ended up being a really fun scene.

John: And again, thank god for the surveillance culture - the fact that there are so many traffic cameras. Although you may bitch about privacy, it really helps us.

Marc: It really, really helps us.

John: This was interesting. This- I forget how this came up, I think the fact he had two IDs, but they had only checked one. I had a friend who was a Mountie- and remember, we were talking about my buddy who had done undercover up in Canada, and gh said the problem was, the guys got the fake, ran up records on fake Canadian IDs and you never knew the original crimes. Yeah. ‘Hey, how does Tara Cole know how to handle a meat cleaver?’ You’ll find-

Marc: Yup.

John: There you go, and that's a nice hit. And the head butt. I love the head butt, I'm sorry, man, that's a great way to end a fight.

Marc: She gets to take part.

John: Also, there's a lot of really nice hair flipping around in that fight scene, I gotta say.

Marc: I love-

John: I don't know whose looks better.

Marc: It's like a [Unintelligible. Sounds like ‘Germat’?] commercial.

[Laughter]

John: And that's, again, one of the problems with having a really uber competent team is, ‘OK they would have run this guy's background. What is the one loophole we could find that Hardison could screw up?’ You know, it's not screw up, it's nobody’s perfect.

Albert: It's just overlooked.

John: That's the trick, it has to always be some sort of fair play thing. Not a mistake, not just a ‘I didn't look in that drawer.’ This is a legitimate loophole.

Albert: Look how great this location is, though. It's everywhere; there's stuff everywhere. We really would not have been able to duplicate this on a set.

Marc: No.

John: What? No?

Marc: Never.

John: I love that he keeps the voice up here. That killed me here the first time I saw the dalies I was like, ‘Is he still doing Lagerfeld’?

Marc: Jack Bouvier.

John: Yeah the fingerless gloves are really the pièce de résistance there. There's a lot of stuff there that could be on anybody, but the fingerless gloves really digs in.

Albert: Again, that's straight out of the Lagerfeld book.

Marc: Tim went for it.

John: Are those glasses actually rose tinted?

Albert: Yes.

John: Yes they are, that's magnificent. And the evil speech of evil: ‘Listen, I'm just a businessman. I have obligations.’ You know, in his head he's keeping many people employed back in China. You know, and he's a copy fighter, he's like those electronic freedom foundation guys who doesn't believe in copyright.

Albert: He's a hero, really.

John: He is a hero.

Albert: Of his own story, but-

John: Exactly, he just happens to interact with our story.

Albert: Exactly.

John: And this is actually a cue, this is a hint to where Nate’s- This winds up being the first episode of the second half of the season. This is kind of a hint of where Nate’s arc is going for the season, where he's getting so addicted to control and not losing and beating the bad guy, he's starting to make poor decisions. And he makes a series of remarkably poor decisions through the back six that really just the competence of the team protects him from.

Albert: He's kind of like those football teams that keep pulling it out in the 4th quarter and just decide that's just what they have to do. So they don’t mind coasting through the rest of the game or even, you know, getting down and behind before then.

John: Yeah it's- it's the mental discipline, and something that Parker says later on in the season which is, ‘Be the Nate Ford that we came back for.’ The mental discipline that made him legendary and which they count on is starting to slip. And it's not because of the booze, it's because of what he's substituting the booze with.

Marc: Right.

John: This is me drinking my Guinness, by the way.

[Laughter]

Albert: It's not your Guinness, it's what you’re substituting for the Guinness.

John: No, no, this is my Guinness; I'm actually drinking.

Albert: Oh ok. It's actually another Guiness that is substituting for his Guinness.

[Laughter]

John: It's, again, a Guinness that's somewhere else that I would like to be drinking. Some bargaining, trying to get them to take Eliot instead of Jeri.

Marc: That wasn't something he planned for.

John: No, no, and it's interesting, and again, this is all trust issues. She kind of volunteered herself for this position, she’s, you know-

Albert: The trick is, part of the whole episode was really the character dynamics. Because it was a new character, because it was a new team member, even though she'd been introduced in the episode beforehand, this is really the first full con they run together as a team. So it was a very tricky thing, and so I had the outlines of what the broad strokes would be, but this is the point when you go to the show runner and you say, ‘John how does this work, exactly?’ And then John takes over.

John: We stare at the ceiling and- that's what the writers room is for. And this is great, we actually wound up paralleling this shot. You created this shot for this episode, Marc; we wound up paralleling this argument in, like, two other episodes. There's actually a similar version of this shot in the first half in the season finale, where it's like, we are now sitting judgment of Nate Ford, and we’re a little distrubed that we’re not feeling very comfortable here. Yeah, and this cutting pattern replicates, and it’s interesting, and it's because we have editors working over certain episodes that make certain choices. And those are I think the names of-

Albert: They were real Electric Entertainment employees.

John: ‘Maybe I want to meet...’ Yes. Hardison is the most hard done by character; he never gets what he wants. And that, again, is one of those things where this episode was shot in 6 ½ days.

Marc: Yes, there's my mother-in-law.

John: There you go; she's a lovely woman.

Marc: A lovely woman.

John: Are you checking the list of actors to pick her name up? That's not good.

Marc: No, gosh no.

John: You know, we had four different ways this scam works. All depending on exactly how this shooting schedule worked out. And I remember I had to sit down with my wife and I was like, ‘Alright’, cause she's big into this, I was like, ‘Exactly what is the timing and choreography on a fashion show?’ And there, the thing with the dresses and they're all transported across town. So it was a good lesson for writers is, the great thing about TV is you're shooting every week; the really great thing about TV that will also drive you crazy is, you learn how to have a bunch of choices. Because sometimes the world decides not cooperate with you, and you can't shut down production for two days and just go- You've worked on big films, you've seen this. Like, ‘You know what? We're just gonna take a day off and find the right location.’

Marc: Yes.

John: No. Not so much.

Albert: The scene coming up with Parker in the gown. This is really, if you think about it and you say that you're gonna do an episode with the Leverage team involved in the fashion world, kind of the promise of the premise is you're gonna get Parker in a fashion show. In a gown, in a fashion show.

John: Right, because she's the one person who would despise it.

Albert: Right, and you kind of have to deliver this scene.

John: This was also shot later, and it was interesting because we don't usually get Parker and Eliot- you know, Parker and Eliot in a two-hander. And if you go back, you can see in the back half of the season when we- especially when we saw how it worked out in The Lost Heir Job, it became kind of a little more standard that we go to this partnership. You also see it pop up in the bottle show, the bar show, what the hell did we call it?

Marc: Bottle Job.

John: We called it The Bottle Job, that's right.

Marc: The problem with doing these two-handers is he can get her to laugh and break.

John: Yeah, Chris can crack Beth up. Him doing the dirty dresses on the floor line, Beth I think broke character maybe ten times because we are in the basement shooting that day.

Marc: And this is the dress that Nadine our costume designer built.

Albert: Yeah.

John: It's a pretty amazing dress.

Marc: A beautiful dress.

John: The thumb drive of intent. Thank you thumb drive, for giving us a short hand so audiences know what we're doing.

Marc: Yes, so she basically- you'll see that all of the Andre V, that's the Andre V character, has a touch of yellow in it.

John: That's right. Nadine created a unified theme for the fashion line - the fake fashion line that we were doing.

Albert: She created an actual line.

Marc: Yeah, so she created a whole line and there's a touch of yellow in everything and as you’ll see when we get to the runway-

John: Where's this dress? We should auction this dress off.

Albert: Nadine probably has it.

Marc: It's actually in my car.

John: Oh no. I wish I didn't know that.

Marc: And then Dave Connell carried it with the lighting design as well.

John: Oh that's great, that is great. It's like we do this for a living.

Marc: Almost.

John: I love that Parker does the most- the little slide across the spot; that's a lot of fun. And now, did you shoot this at night? You had how many days on this set?

Marc: I think we did this-

John: You had the day, which was the warm up and then-

Marc: I think we had this location for two days.

John: That's not bad.

Marc: That's Jeffery Gilbert who played Andre V; he was just great. And I love Parker with the moves.

John: With the big head turn.

Marc: Just for a moment she thinks she got it under control, of course.

John: No, not so much. Walking is hard; walking in those heels is hard.

Albert: Walking in heels is hard.

John: I also love the little improv- it wasn’t in the script, but I remember seeing it in the dalies - she cracks her neck.

Marc: Yes that was definite Parker move. And I know this had to be- the scene coming up had to be a John Rogers line, where it's written that Andre V is banging his head repeatedly against the wall.

[Laughter]

John: Well, yeah, because I do that in the writers room.

Marc: And they said, ‘We gotta move on.’ I said, ‘No, I need to get the guy banging his head.’

John: Trust me, have some sympathy. And this is where we pay off the idea that Tara has heard about this team, and now believes she's given Nate one clue as to what she’s gonna do and she's desperately hoping they're as good as they think they are, and she’s doing the set up to this, she's setting up this beat. It was tricky, because we did actually play- she does actually look like she's selling the team out here, and if you're watching the DVD, you are watching all the way through the seasons. aAnd we did go back and forth on how loyal would she be to the team. And it really is the fact that one of the reasons you watch the show, or at least I think one of the reasons you watch the show, is the family vibe.

Albert: Absolutely.

John: And just having somebody who wasn’t into the family vibe in the middle of it, it might've been interesting from a writing standpoint, and we’re all fans of the show who write the show, it wasn’t interesting from an audience standpoint; it felt a little overly clever, a little constructed. But we do it just enough that we can get she's part of the team, but she doesn't buy into Nate’s bullshit, and as a result her actions in the finale make some sort of organic sense. And the van, oh, the van.

Marc: Gotta have the van.

John: Not anymore.

[Laughter]

Marc: Well-

John: No the- and this, again, we had like four variations how this particular con worked. Who did those designs? Who did-? We have a lot of actual fashion designs floating around in this.

Marc: I think Nadine.

Albert: Nadine and her team did pretty much everything.

John: They sketched them up and sent them off to Derek to do the computer graphics.

Albert: They did the sketches, they did the buckles sketches, they designed the clothes. Like I said, this was a real- this was a field day for the wardrobe and makeup and hair.

Marc: For the glam department.

John: That was nice, too. Cause the thing we originally missed, that having him hand him the badge, it’s a nice touch. Again, the trick when you’re doing- Some of the endings we stop and explain a lot, some just kind of unroll, and you have to make sure you set up all the pieces. And a lot of times when you're running and gunning and shooting, that stuff goes away.

Marc: It does. And so much of it is like, you get to a certain scene like, oh my god, in the flashback you're supposed to see that happens later.

John: Do you break those off separately when you shoot these or-? I mean, I know you, kind of, barely read the script.

Marc: A lot of times they are within the scenes and god bless Suzanne, our script supervisor, she just, she-

John: She's the best. She's actually the best I've ever worked with.

Marc: She's the gatekeeper, yeah, she’s amazing.

John: A Script Supervisor’s job, in case you don't know, if you're watching, is to sit next to the Director with a copy of the script, with special notations that they go to school to learn, to track what is in every shot, what the angles are, what the sizes are, who’s crossing, who’s walking in from what direction.

Marc: She's basically- she's keeping score and she’s the directors best friend, or worst enemy.

John: You will hear a lot of directors, even really experienced directors say-

Marc: As well as an editor, because, you know, an editor just gets a hard drive of footage, and if he can't decipher her notes, then he's gonna struggle as well.

John: I've seen really experienced directors, guys who are famous, they will finish and will turn to their script supervisor and go ‘What do I need?’ Cause they're watching the coverage while the directors watching the-

Marc: And we do a lot of different things and as a director, you're watching performances, and you're making sure you're hitting all the right emotional beats, and you know, when we do certain scenes where we have multiple characters, or you’re doing a 360-

John: We have a five-hander here.

Marc: Yeah, or doing a 360 and the camera’s going around and around, you need someone to be keeping score for you.

John: I like the physicality, by the way, watching this again, of watching Tim does with his face when he’s with the character and when he's just dropped it, and all of a sudden that kind of fake character, the wardrobe doesn't matter if he's just pissed, and you know he's dug in.

Marc: As soon as he's pulled off the glasses-

John: It's Nate.

Marc: It's Nate.

John: Great job.

Marc: And we haven't even had him say that, when Tom, later on, you know, points that out, you're not even who you say you are, he, like, looks at him in a certain way.

John: Yeah. No, nice call. The- oh yes, this was, again, interesting, is one of the things that really depends on the speed with which these guys can rip this stuff off. You know, in one of the original versions we were talking about where the dresses are actually transported- right after the fashion show, the dresses actually are driven across town and are put in a private closed viewing for the buyers. They won’t let anybody else close to those dresses because even with photographs, they can be knocked off within a matter of 48-72 hours. Which is stunning, which is what you're trying to fight when you're trying to fight piracy. And hung by his own sin, which is one of the rules.

Albert: There's always a rule. Yup. Going back to the wardrobe and hair and makeup departments, the other thing you don't end up seeing is that they went through a lot of their own iterations of what- before what you see on the screen. They did a lot of tests, they did a lot of different looks. If we had time, we could probably show all these other test photos they took, and different hair configurations, and make up, and at one point they did this whole sort of Kabuki look, but we decided that might've been a little too fashion forward for this show. They really went all out.

Marc: They went all out.

John: Did you say fashion forward?

Albert: Sure.

Marc: And some of them were just based on the element of time, you know, we wouldn't have time to change actors over to a certain style, and-

John: Yeah, cause I mean, that's the thing, is when the difference between shooting Parker as Parker, and shooting Parker as Parker as fashion model, is two hours to change that character's look.

Albert: At least.

John: At least. And the walk of victory.

Marc: Dun dun dunnn.

John: This is nice, this is- I, you know, I always love the 60s, 70s call back; it's a nice style choice. Also, you've got that great street to shoot down. Where was that? Was that outside of-?

Marc: That was right outside of the actual warehouse location.

Albert: Across the river.

Marc: Just across the river from downtown Portland, so it was really close; you know, had a nice overpass.

John: Looked like that section of T that’s elevated.

Marc: This, again, is supposed to be in Asia, which was actually just another area of the warehouse again.

John: And then that's a kind of an iconic shot for this show now. That's nice, the Jeri Ryan era, as the fans call it. If you go on the boards and see the fans arguing over which six episodes are the best in the giant ouvre of Leverage ouvre. And she pays a horrible horrible price for her treachery.

Albert: Those are real working steam presses, and I can tell you from having been there, they were ridiculously hot.

[Laughter]

Albert: I didn't want to be anywhere near it. I was like, ‘Wow, Gloria is really a trooper going through this.’ She had to learn how to operate it; it had, like, foot petals and things.

John: This is why it's good to be a writer, is, we write horrible things and then the directors and actors go live there, while we occasionally- Sometimes we venture from the hotel room to go visit the set.

Marc: At times.

John: But it's for the best if the writer isn't there; just causes trouble.

Albert: We can go pose and take pictures with the models; that's when we show up on set.

John: Yes. And then this is actually based on, there's a bunch of factories now that are owned by the employees that were taken over. Some car factories, some- there was a big thing in South America for a while of the workers seizing foreclosed factories and opening them up as co-ops.

Marc: I did not know that.

John: Yes, there you go. Anything we can do to undermine the infrastructure of capitalism of America in Leverage we try to, we try to.

Marc: Now this is a happier factory, it's brighter.

John: Brighter colors.

Marc: Yeah, it's brighter colors, there's sound.

[Laughter]

John: I love that. I love you sitting in the director’s chair like, ‘Alright, now make it the happy sweatshop.’

Marc: How else can we make them happy?

John: Lunch breaks.

Marc: Lunch breaks! Sandwiches. Sandwiches make everyone happy. Everybody’s happy with a sandwich.

John: There you go, and milk, that's delicious. Look, and we saw that particular extra was unhappy earlier.

Albert: That's right.

Marc: She was.

John: There you go; really sold it. And again, it's interesting because, you know, you shot two years of this now, and you understand the vics aren't a big part of actual screen time, they are on in the opening, they're on in the closing. Those actors are insanely important, because it means you have to like them really fast, and if you don't like them really fast, you know, it won’t pay off.

Marc: Yeah, and they have to keep up because, you know, it's not like we get a lot of time to do rehearsals, and so some of the crux of the episode can be in their hands.

Albert: Oh yeah, the emotional core of the story always hinges on the victims and their choices.

John: And sometimes those scenes with Tim Hutton in the bar, that's the entire reason you're gonna care about this episode. And this is a lot of fun with- this is when we- again, we really track, if you watch the back six episodes where Tara Cole feels in how she's getting the money. Happy about getting the money, ambivalent about getting the money, not caring so much, you know. She never doesn't care, cause that's just wrong. And now, it's interesting, Tim and I had a nice conversation about this particular phone call, cause he called me about this and he's like, ‘I'm not sure where we're going with this.’ I'm like, ‘You know that moment when you've had an argument with the wife and you've realized you've said the wrong thing and you can never take it back?’ And he's like, ‘Oh yeah.’ and I'm like, ‘That one right there.’ And it's one of my favorite little Nate/Sophie scenes and they're not even in the same room. Because it's, you know, it's- banter is fun, relationships are hard.

Marc: Right.

Albert: Oh I like that. Banter is fun, relationships are hard.

John: And, you know, end of day, unless you show a couple of these scenes every now and then, you don't buy these relationships as real. And that's why I think one of the reasons the Eliot/Nate relationship feels very grounded is, we give opportunity for Chris Kane and Tim to kind of dig in on the fact that they don't always agree, those characters.

Albert: And you gotta give somewhere for the characters to go. That's the thing about a scene like this, at the end it gives them somewhere to go after here.

John: That was great. Thank you so much, guys, that was a lot of fun. The episode was fantastic.

Albert: That was The Runway Job.

Marc: Thank you.

John: Anything you wanna say to the nice folks before we move onto the next one?

Marc: Stay tuned.

[Laughter]

John: It's a DVD, I don't think they’re gonna wander off-

Marc: For the season.

John: Oh for another season, that's right. Season 3. Albert anything you wanna say?

Albert: No this was great, this was, I think, my third episode working with Marc. Third, that I'd written. Kind of fourth.

John: Kind of codependent.

Marc: Yes, yes.

Albert: We are, but I've learned that one thing: banter is fun, but relationships are hard, so we gotta keep working on it.

Marc: That’s right.

#Leverage #Leverage TNT #Leverage Audio Commentary Transcripts #Audio Commentary #Transcripts #Parker #Alec Hardison #Elliot Spencer #Nate Ford #Sophie Deveraux #Season 2 #Episode 10 #Season 2 Episode 10 #The Runway Job

63 notes · View notes

waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 3 years

Text

Whisky Secrets (sequel)

Here's something different. Before I ever thought about posting fanfic here, I used to write things inspired by fanfic I found by some of the incredible writers I found on tumblr. I've never posted any of them but I've really felt like writing something for Aleister Black/ Tommy End lately.

So I reached out to one of my original favourites on this site, @ghostofviperwrites and asked her if she'd mind if I published this sequel I wrote to her story Whisky Secrets. She gave me the ok (for which I thank her very much).

You absolutely have to read her piece first or this won't make any sense. It picks up literally at the point where hers leaves off and the entire premise is based on what she wrote. I think this goes in a very different direction than what she had in mind, though.

Since this is an old story, some of the characters are very different than they are now. It was set at around the time I wrote it. Based on events in the story, it's pretty clear when that was.

It's a bit dated but I hope you enjoy.

Pairing: Aleister Black x OFC (hints of Roman Reigns x OFC)

Word count: 7,031

Content advisory: graphic sexual content, language, incidental roughness that some might find stressful

You rested on the sofa for too long, knowing that you had to get to work, that you were already behind on an assignment that was due that afternoon. As much as you desperately wanted to cling to the scent and the feeling of him being there with you and the idea that he might someday want to be there with you for longer, you knew that you were only wasting time by indulging in a fantasy. Once again, you reminded yourself, he saw you as a friend, a landing pad after he was finished his adventures. And so you dragged yourself to the computer and tried to focus.

It was a fluff piece you’d been hired to write: places for new residents of Orlando to meet people. You’d accepted it because the pay was good and it had seemed easy. But what the hell did you know about meeting people? You’d barely met anyone and the only ones that you’d call friends were the ones you met when you’d done an in-depth profile on the WWE and their development territory NXT. Of those, only Aleister had remained close and even then, you couldn’t say that the two of you had ever properly opened up to each other. Nevertheless, you’d stayed in touch with a number of them, occasionally meeting for coffee or drinks. None of this was in any way useful when it came to recommending locations to connect with strangers.

You’d tried to start the article the day before but now when you opened the file, you discovered that you’d only come up with a half a dozen corny titles and one word of text:

When?

The word was too painfully appropriate.

When were you going to run out of luck and be unable to find further work as a journalist?

When were you going to admit that what kept you here, rather than moving to another state and pursuing more secure work, was the fact that you were in love with a man who was only interested in your capacity as a friend and caregiver?

When was your hopeless love going to break you beyond repair?

Annoyed with yourself, you deleted the word and tried to start again. You could meet people at the gym classes that were ubiquitous in this city. You could meet people at get-togethers for shared hobbies like hiking or pottery or basically anything. No one had to meet people by getting thrown into their orbit and being unable to extricate themselves.

About half an hour into your resentful hammering on the keyboard, you were startled by your doorbell. For one sweet instant, you imagined that it was Aleister dropping by to pass some time with you. Then you realized that he never came to you without an invitation unless it was dead drunk in the middle of the night. Even when you invited him, it was only every fourth or fifth time that you asked that he agreed to come over and watch a movie or go for a walk in the nearby park. There was no way it was him at your door at eleven o’clock in the morning.

In fact, the person at your door was Bayley, chipper and warm as always, returning the spare laptop you’d lent her a few weeks before.

“Thank you so much,” she beamed, thrusting the computer into your hands. “You are a lifesaver. I’d have lost my goddamn mind if I hadn’t had this while mine was in the shop.”

“It was nothing,” you insist, smiling at her unconstrained warmth even though you didn’t feel very positive about your life at that moment. “Do you want to come in for a minute?”

She nodded cheerily and stepped across the foyer. You never really knew how you fit in with the women of WWE, even though you’d spoken to many of them in depth. Bayley stood out because she was determined to be your friend despite your introvert’s reluctance. And, indeed, she was irresistible. Much like her in-ring character, she cast sunshine wherever she went and her glow was contagious, even in your darkest and lowest moments.

You motioned her into the kitchen, offering her a choice of lemonade, iced tea or water. Her eyes immediately fell on the empty whiskey bottle you’d left on the counter, her expression growing more serious as she focused on it.

“Getting started early?” she cajoled.

“A friend left that here,” you replied guiltily.

She narrowed her dark eyes as she looked at you. Sweet and optimistic as she was, Bayley was not naïve. She knew exactly what friend had left the bottle behind and she knew how you felt about him.

“I’ll have a glass of lemonade,” she said, the smile slowly returning to her face.

You joined her and the two of you jokingly touched glasses before drinking.

“So, a few of us are getting together tonight,” she said hesitantly. “I thought you might like to join us.”

Your first instinct was to ask if Aleister would be there, but you thought better of it. Instead, you responded, “Well, I have an article I need to finish.”

Of course, your article was due by the end of the afternoon, which meant that your evening was free regardless, but part of you wanted to be at home in case Aleister came staggering over again.

Bayley’s jaw set in a determined expression you’d only seen from her in the ring. “We’re having a party for Roman, to celebrate him going into remission.”

Well now you felt like a bit of a bitch for making excuses and didn’t know what to say.

“It won’t just be wrestlers there. Some other journalists are even coming. And I know that it would mean a lot to him if you were there.”

When you’d done your article on the WWE, you’d interviewed Roman Reigns and he’d been incredibly generous with his time. He’d even contacted you after your interviews to confirm that you had all the detail you needed. He was the face of the company and had done everything possible to make sure that the company had provided what you required. He’d clearly wanted to make sure they’d left a good impression and you couldn’t help but be impressed by his PR skills. Although you knew it wasn’t true that it “would mean a lot to him”, you were touched by the idea that he remembered you and might like you to be there to celebrate his great news. At the same time… you needed to be there for Aleister.

“Look,” Bayley insisted, “I’m going to text you the details for the bar where we’ll be. It’s not a big deal, just a bunch of us getting together to be happy for our friend.”

There was no way that you could refuse that, so you shyly thanked her as she gulped the rest of her lemonade and made for the door.

“I’m serious,” she said as she departed. “You work so damn hard you deserve a night off. Finish what you’re doing and come have fun with us.”

As soon as she’d left, you once again sat down at your computer. Before you could return your attention to your work, however, you couldn’t resist checking Instagram.

Someone had tagged Aleister in a photo on Instagram.

Yes, you were that pathetic that you always checked.

With trepidation, you clicked the link to look at what was there. As it too often did, the notification came from an airbrushed-looking woman, her collagen-enhanced lips pressed against his. She looked arrogant and proud, while he looked smug and inebriated.

“Guess who I got to hang with last night?” the caption gloated.

You knew damn well what “hang” was a euphemism for. He never cared that the Barbie dolls he hooked up with advertised their conquest on social media. He was single and hot. Why should he care if people knew that he always scored with the sort of women other men lusted after? Why should he care that it ripped your heart to shreds every time you saw him with another woman so unlike you in every way?

The woman had posted a few other photos of the two of them together, embracing. Every part of her magazine-ready body was on display, save those parts that would have gotten her in trouble. Her artificially perfect breasts were spilling out of a tiny tube top while her endless legs were shown in their full glory between the edge of a skirt that likely required her to trim her pubic hair and the sky high heels that raised her enough to press her lips to his without having to stretch herself awkwardly. She was nothing like you, with your unkempt hair and loose, bohemian dresses, your comfortable ballet flats and blandly natural face. She had all the glamour that you lacked and he ate it up.

The images of the two of them cut into you like a laser and, for once, all you desired was to break free from the pain of feeling. A few minutes later, when Bayley sent the text she’d promised with the details of where you could find the party tonight, you immediately responded.

“I’ll be there. I promise.”

To hell with Aleister and the designer women he adored, you told yourself as you returned to your article with a vengeance. Tonight you were going to do whatever it took to break the spell he had cast over you.

It was just after nine when you found yourself teetering to the entrance of the bar where the party was taking place. It was marked only by a subtle sign, no words, just a stylized anchor, and it was hidden away on a tiny street that was hardly more than an alley. In your fit of pique, you’d finished your article two hours before your deadline and then, having examined the options in your closet and found them wanting, headed out and spent entirely too much money on a new dress that clung perfectly to your breasts before flaring out to highlight the movements of your body, while covering just the bare minimum to maintain decency. You’d also picked up a stylish pair of ankle boots with heels higher than you were used to and that posed a legitimate threat as you made your way down the roughly paved road to the speakeasy-style bar.

A little further down the alley, you see a couple leaning against a car, taking turns swigging from a liquor bottle. The woman is one of those glamorous animals that makes you so insecure, laughing in drunken delight in a way that only confident people can. In one quick movement the man spins her around and bends her over the hood of the car. He immediately takes out his cock, stroking it a couple of times before he thrusts into her, one hand on her back while the other holds the bottle that he continues drinking from. And it’s a moment before you realize that it’s Aleister, fucking away at a woman whose name he won’t remember in a few hours.

The sight makes you want to curl up and die, makes you want to say that you’ve made a mistake and run along home so you can bawl your eyes out while you wait for his inevitable drunken arrival. But, if nothing else, the damage that you’ve done to your credit card in order to make yourself look just a bit more sexy and edgy than usual, as well as the glasses of wine you had already consumed to fortify your courage, push you forward. This is a test. In order to pass, you need to be able to ignore the man whose indifference is killing you and enter the world of others, where someone who wasn’t up to the standards of the rarified model girls might be willing to give you a second look.

Aleister doesn’t even glance up as you enter the bar a few feet away from him, can’t feel the dark weight of your eyes on him or the force with which you tear them away as you step through the door.

As soon as you do, you are once again frozen with the idea that you’ve made a mistake. When Bayley characterized this as a “get-together”, you’d assumed it meant a group of people spread out around a few tables chatting away and toasting Roman’s health. Instead, what greets you is a basement club full of people with a dance floor alive with writhing bodies. You recognize a few journalists but for the most part, the space is taken up with every WWE and NXT star you’ve ever heard of. It’s a convention of beautiful people and you can’t help but feel dowdy even in your overpriced finery.

You slowly descend the stairs, fully intending to look around, say hello to a few familiar faces and then bolt for the exit, but you’re immediately greeted by a familiar voice that fairly shrieks. “Oh my god woman, just look at you!”

It’s Sasha Banks, standing at the edge of the stairs with Bayley, who gives you an exaggerated round of applause.

“Miranda, you look amazing,” Sasha continues breathlessly. “Seriously, you’re putting everyone to shame.”

You don’t feel like you’re putting anyone to shame, least of all Sasha in her body suit that hugs every curve of her perfect little hourglass, but you blush at the compliment.

“Come on,” Bayley gushes, “we need shots to celebrate your hotness!”

She pulls both of you through the crowd to the bar and somehow is able to get the bartender’s attention almost immediately, ordering two rounds of tequila shots because, she tells you and Sasha, there’s no point in getting just one round when you know you’re going back for seconds. The three of you toast and toss down the shots and then immediately do so again and you have to admit that you’re feeling the warm glow already. Sasha, apparently feeling something herself, wraps her arms around you and once again reassures you that you are devastatingly beautiful.

Another shot is thrust into your hand, this time by Dash Wilder, who’s arrived with his Revival partner Scott Dawson. Wilder has always been attractive to you, so you give him as radiant a smile as you can manage and you swear he blushes a little just before he downs his shot. Dawson is hugging Sasha and Bayley close to him, allowing Dash to edge a little closer to you and you’re feeling a little high on yourself when another voice cuts through your circle.

“Miranda? Holy fuck I can’t believe you’re here!”

Roman Reigns pushes right through the bodies close to the bar and grabs you firmly by the shoulders, his eyes gradually focusing on yours. He’s grinning with an intensity that clearly comes from his being a little past feeling no pain but it doesn’t hamper the thrill it gives you when he wraps his arms around you and nearly crushes you in a hug.

“I mean, shit, I don’t think I’ve even talked to you since you did that interview,” he pouts. “Thank you so much for coming.”

You smile as another shot is pushed into your hand, biting your lip self-consciously. You down about half the shot before Roman grabs it from you and finishes it, breaking up with laughter. He signals the bartender for another round, keeping an arm around your back until the tray of shots arrives. You’re all toasting each other and you wonder why you ever questioned yourself for coming here because this is exactly what you needed.

“Come dance with me,” Roman chuckles, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards the dance floor. He’s clearly floating on a sea of drunken bliss, goofing around and happy to have someone to have fun with, someone he didn’t expect to be there. Even if you wanted to resist his offer, you couldn’t because, while he isn’t doing anything that might hurt you, his grip is strong enough and the rest of him powerful enough to compel you forward.

The two of you deliberately dance like complete nerds in high school, awkward movements and ironic posturing until you’re both laughing so hard you can barely stand. It’s then that you realize that you’ve become the focus of some attention; Roman goddamn Reigns, the face of the company, the locker room leader, the man who everyone has come to celebrate, is dancing with you. Most of the people here have no idea who you are but because you’re with Roman, you are somebody. Basking in the subtle attention and envy, you close your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in the music, swaying to the beat until you feel a large pair of hands on your hips.

You open your eyes to see Roman pulling you closer to him with a devilish grin before spinning you around and pulling your back against his massive chest. You continue to move but at a slower pace, your movements limited by how close he’s holding you and the sensual way in which his body moves against yours. Keeping one arm loosely around you, he lets his other hand fall against your thigh, lightly playing with the hem of your dress. It makes you gasp.

“You never responded to any of my texts,” he murmurs gruffly in your ear.

You remember at least half a dozen messages asking if he could clarify anything or if you needed any additional material for your article. You hadn’t needed anything else but you suddenly feel terribly rude for not answering.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “you were very professional and I should have at least told you that I had what I needed.”

His voice drops even lower as he speaks. “I didn’t mean to be professional about them. And I was hoping that you didn’t have everything you needed.”

He pulls you up and firmly against him and for the first time you can feel his hardening cock through his pants. You can’t help but thrust your hips into him, barely able to process what’s happening to you. The two of you are still ostensibly dancing, although it’s more like a rhythmic grinding to the music as he reaches down and pulls the hem of your dress up, rubbing your thigh and then your ass as he presses his lips into your neck. His hands are everywhere on you and you’re aware that your entire lower body is basically on display for anyone who cares to look but you don’t care because it feels like you’ve won the lottery. You moan at the feeling of his growing excitement against your flesh, both his large hands grazing up the front of your thighs and for a moment you think that you’re ready to beg him to take you right there when you’re violently spun away from your dance partner, a bruising grip on your arm.

It’s Aleister, eyes incandescent with rage as he tells Roman, “I need to speak to her for a minute.”

Roman looks confused and tries to speak to you but Aleister drags you away and a gaggle of women immediately descend on Roman, desperate to take your place.

Aleister flings you against the wall, glaring at you with an intensity that you’ve never seen outside the ring.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

“I was dancing before you interfered,” you snap back at him, rubbing your arm.

“Dancing?” he repeats with derision. “That’s what you call that?”

“I was having fun.”

“What the hell are you wearing?”

For the first time since you saw him with his woman of choice outside, you feel ridiculous, like a girl trying to look glamorous by donning her mother’s clothes.

“I wanted something a little different.”

“A little?” he hisses back. “Do you realize what you look like? You’re all tarted up and letting some guy grab at you and get you half naked in front of a bar full of people.”

“What I look like?”

“Everyone could see practically your whole goddamned body. They could see what you were letting him do to you.”

“You mean to say I look like a whore.”

Aleister crosses his arms and glances away, refusing to confirm what you’ve said.

“So what, Aleister? So what if I’m letting a man touch me and show me that he wants me? Who cares who else sees? Maybe that’s what I want!”

“Are you so stupid that you think he wants you for anything other than a one night stand?”

The accusation stabs at your heart and your confidence but you’re determined not to let him see that.

“Again, so what? Maybe I’m happy to have this big, gorgeous man want me. Maybe I’m fine bringing him back to my place for a few hours of fun because at least it means someone is thinking of me as a sexual being for a change.” You pause, knowing the danger of what you’re about to say but unable to stop yourself. “Maybe I’d be fine if he just took me outside and fucked me over the hood of a car.”

For a second, you think that Aleister is going to strangle you. The look on his face is like the moment before the sky erupts in thunder and lightning. Truthfully, you expect that he’ll turn on his heel and walk away from you and never come back, and perhaps that’s what you need him to do so that you can get over him.

Instead, he grabs you, pinning you to the side of his body and pulling you towards the door. His movements make you stumble, and the more you try to resist him, the more ungainly you look.

“She’s dead drunk,” you hear him assure a few people, “I’m going to make sure she gets home.”

And while it’s true that you are drunk, you’re not nearly as drunk as he’s making you out to be. The second he has you outside, you try to twist away from him and go back, only for him to wind you closer, pulling you off balance so that you look even more inebriated.

You hear him whisper to Seth Rollins, who’s observing the spectacle through the corner of his eyes. “Look, tell Roman that she’s falling down drunk and I just had to get her home. No disrespect meant.”

Seth has a confused expression on his face but nods and tells him, “Sure thing.”

Realizing what Aleister is doing, you once again try to rush past him, but he blocks you, gripping your arm and pulling you after him so that you really do appear pathetically unable to take care of yourself.

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me?” you shout at him, figuring that there’s no reason to worry about who might hear you, there being no further you can sink in their estimation. “Why can’t you just let me enjoy myself?”

“Jesus, Miranda, you’re loaded. You can barely stand up.” He emphasizes this by jerking your arm forward, which almost causes you to keel over onto your face. “You’re just embarrassing yourself.”

“No,” you insist, pulling yourself to a halt. “I knew what I was doing. I knew what I wanted. Sure I’m a bit tipsy but-“

“You don’t want that,” Alesiter snaps, threading his arm through yours and continuing down the street. “You don’t just want to whore yourself out for a night because you think it might help your self-esteem.”

“You don’t get to decide what I want, Aleister.” You’re crushed against his side and he’s moving so quickly that your feet only graze the ground every third or fourth step. “Let me go. I’m sick of playing the surrogate mother for someone who’s incapable of seeing me as a real woman. I want to go back there. I want to have someone make a show of wanting me. I want to get fucked so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

Aleister shakes his head like a parent frustrated with a misbehaving child. “Stop it. You’re being ridiculous.”

“So let me be ridiculous!” you yell back, trying unsuccessfully to extricate yourself from his grip. “What the hell is it to you? Are you worried that for once I’m not going to be there when you need a place to collapse at four in the morning?”

The two of you reach the corner where the alley meets the street and he swings you to face him, glowering at you with a terrifying expression, gripping your biceps so hard you know you’ll be bruised in the morning. He says nothing but stares at you until he whips his arm out and hails a taxi seemingly out of nowhere.

He launches you, there’s no other word for it, into the back seat of the car and snarls your address to the driver as your tears start to fall. The cabbie is noticeably uncomfortable with your quiet whimpering and seems confused by the fact that Aleister does nothing to comfort or engage you. He sits with his arms folded, scowling, until you arrive at your building. Reflexively, you reach for your purse only to have Aleister swat your hand away and pay the driver himself. You try to keep pace as he yanks you towards the door, but stumble because of your unsure footing in these strange heels and because your vision is glazed by the tears you’re fighting to hold in.

When Aleister pins you against the door and rummages through your purse to find your keys, it somehow feels more invasive than Roman gripping your ass for an entire bar full of people to see. You feel, for a moment, that he is looking at you with tenderness. But when the door opens, he simply guides you through it. As you hear it click shut, the last of your strength, physical and emotional, gives out and you drop to your knees, finally allowing the tears to fall. It’s a full-on ugly cry, punctuated by guttural, anguished sounds you’d never allow anyone else to hear. Despite everything, you desperately want to hear the door open again behind you and to hear him say that he’s realized he loves you.

But no, in the end, he’s just found it gross that the woman he sees as his caregiver might have another side. He found you pathetic in your overpriced dress and shoes. He knew that you were desperately trying to act like something you could never be: like someone who could compete with the perfected Instagram beauties he fucks every night. You could never be that. He knew that you were just a sad little woman decked out in a gaudy outfit. You’d never be that sexy, desirable person who stopped men dead in their tracks, no matter what your dance with Roman had temporarily led you to believe.

You’re on your knees for what seems like hours, choking on tears and snot and trying to restrain yourself from howling. Just as the sound overpowers you and a low wail escapes your lips, you’re startled by a pair of arms, familiar, tattooed arms wrapping around your waist from behind.

“Shh. There’s no need for any of that,” he grunts into your hair.

And while you’re shocked and thrilled that he actually stayed behind to make sure that you were ok, it’s also even more humiliating that he’s seen you fall apart so spectacularly. Your body feels limp with defeat and unable to react at all as he gathers you up and carries you into your bedroom, setting you gently on the edge of the bed. He rests his hand on yours for a moment and you’re able to stem the flow of tears until he stands up and heads back towards the door. This time, you’re determined to hold in the worst of your misery until you’re sure he’s gone, even though you can’t stop the tears from running down your face.

But after a few minutes of straining to hear the door close, you see Aleister return, a damp washcloth in hand, and he sits once again beside you on the edge of the bed. He presses the cloth, cool and soothing, against your cheeks and then holds your chin as he delicately wipes it across your face. It takes you some minutes to realize that he’s removing your smeared makeup, cleaning you off so that you look good as new, so that you look more like the plain girl who lets him into her home in the middle of the night, his touch filled with a tenderness that you never imagined him capable of. When he’s satisfied with his work, he tosses the cloth aside and wraps an arm around you, pulling you close against him. The sweetness of his friendly gesture makes you want to cry all over again but you choke it back, knowing that you’ll have plenty of time for that when he’s gone.

“Can I stay here tonight?” he whispers, the sound of his voice making you feel weak.

You nod and roughly pull back from him, unsure of your ability to stop yourself from throwing yourself at him and begging him to wreck you. You fumble with the zipper of your boots until Aleister slides off the bed and onto his knees and removes it for you. He glides his hand along your calf, up to your thigh and then moves to your other boot. As he slides it off, he presses his head against the side of your knee, giving the skin a light kiss before rocking back on his haunches. You know he’s being gentle with you because he feels sorry for you. He finds you pitiful, which is even worse than finding you asexual.

The feelings are too much for you to take and all you can think of is that you want to get into bed where you’ll be safe and where you can sleep off the nightmare your evening out has become. You clumsily shed your dress, stockings, bra and panties without thinking much of the fact that you have an audience. Why should it bother him seeing you naked, after all? Normally, you put on some nightclothes but you don’t even have the strength to bother. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that Aleister has turned his head towards the door. He’s embarrassed for you, the way you would be if a parent or sibling was undressing around you.

You crawl under the covers with a grumbled “good night” and immediately start to feel yourself drift off. You’re jolted back to wakefulness when Aleister climbs in beside you. In all the time you’ve known him, as many nights as he’s come and collapsed on your sofa, you don’t think he’s ever seen your bedroom. Now, having seen it, he’s apparently happy not to leave it, indulging in the comfort of your bed without even asking permission. It makes you a little self-conscious that you’re nude but it’s hardly the most humiliating thing to happen to you tonight, so you let yourself ignore it. If you can just fall asleep, this night will be over and you can begin the process of trying to forget it.

It’s only a matter of seconds, though, until you feel his body pressed against yours from behind, one hand coming to rest flat on your stomach and pushing you back against him so that you are acutely aware that you are not the only person naked in the bed. The hand on your stomach flutters downward until his fingers are moving lightly over your pussy, like he’s plucking the strings of a harp. His other arm wraps around your shoulders and keeps you flush against him, close enough that you can’t mistake the feeling of his erection against your back.

He presses his lips and tongue against your neck, making you whimper as you try to keep your heart rate stable. Your little noises seem to motivate him further, his touch becoming more insistent and one of his legs snaking over yours, pulling it back to give his hand greater access.

“Such a little fool,” he murmurs, his fingers stroking insistently along your fleshy folds. “Thinking I don’t see you as a sexual being.”

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, making you cry out- more from the shock than the pain. His mouth continues to move around your neck and shoulders, nipping and sucking on the skin there, his grip on you tightening until it’s nearly painful.

“What are you doing?” you manage to ask.

“Leaving marks,” he says matter-of-factly.

You’re at a loss for what to say, but are saved from having to answer as he pushes two fingers inside you, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit. You’re embarrassed that he must have felt how wet you were just from being in his presence but he says nothing, quickening his pace and giving satisfied little growls when his touch elicits gasps and cries of pleasure from you.

It’s pity, you remind yourself; what he’s doing to you, he’s doing it because he feels sorry for you and because he’s drunk and horny despite his encounter earlier in the evening. But the thought gets whisked away as he brings you closer and closer to what you’ve desperately needed from him for so long. You let out a little shriek when he removes his hand, unable to believe he’s so cruel as to bring you to the precipice and then deny you. But he simply flips you onto your back before pressing his fingers inside you once more, watching your reactions to be sure he’s hitting just the right spot before burying his face between your legs. His tongue, lips and fingers work together like an orchestra. Your knuckles are white from the force of clenching on the sheets and you’re biting down so hard on your lip to muffle the sounds you’re making that you’re worried your teeth will end up permanently embedded. He unexpectedly raises his head and stills the movement of his hand inside you and the shock is almost enough to make you start crying again. You look down at him, his eyes sparkling in the low light with an expression you can’t read.

“Why won’t you let me hear you?”

Because you don’t want him to know how good his merciful little gesture is making you feel. Because you don’t want to admit to yourself that it’s better than you’d imagined. Truthfully, whenever you’ve thought about the mechanics of sex with Aleister, you imagined that it would be fast and rough and hedonistic, much like his other sexual encounters seem to be. But he’s chosen this moment to take his time, to focus on his partner, rather than go for a quick, dirty fuck in a darkened corner.

You don’t tell him any of this, instead croaking out, “I’m shy.”

He raises himself up and over your body with the effortless grace of a serpent, pressing his head close to yours and kissing along your jawline.

“What do I have to do to make you not be shy?”

“I don’t know… I just… am.” You wriggle a little under him, turning your face away when he looks directly into your eyes.

He cups your face in one hand and runs the other, still wet with your juices, over your breast, teasing the nipple and making you shudder involuntarily.

“Am I moving too fast?”

You shake your head, not quite trusting your voice.

“Is there something that you’d enjoy more? Something you want me to do for you?”

You give him another little shake of the head.

“You don’t have to be shy with me. Whatever you want, I want you to tell me so I can give it to you. Anything.”

For the first time, he kisses you on the lips, his tongue, that still tastes of you, slides against yours and the hand at the side of your face slides to hold your neck, cradling your head so that you don’t have to tense any muscles to stay in that position. Your body has nothing it needs to do but experience the sensations he’s creating. Of course, you still answer his kiss, hungrily flashing your tongue against his, reveling in the light scrape of his lip ring against your lips. His hand glides back down between your legs, and even the proximity is enough to draw a couple of little mewls of pleasure. You feel him smile a little against your lips at the noises and he pulls away from the kiss.

“Am I making you feel good?”

You nod as he starts to work his fingers around your entrance once again.

“Do you want my mouth down there again?”

You nod even more vigorously than the first time but he shakes his head.

“Tell me. Say it out loud.”

You open your mouth to do so and he immediately thrusts his long fingers into your g-spot and your clit at once, making you yelp in pleasure. It’s almost enough to make you cum on its own but he eases the pressure before you reach that peak.

“Yes?” he asks again.

“Yes, fuck, yes!”

“Then let me hear you. Please.”

He returns his attention to your core and has you making all manner of unholy noises in short order. He expertly teases you and then holds back, so many times that when he does finally take you over the edge, you feel like you might pass out from the intensity of it. Your gasps for breath sound cavernous in the quiet room.

He keeps the palm of his hand firmly against you as he leans forward and presses his lips into your neck, letting out a satisfied purr every time an aftershock rolls through your body.

When he’s satisfied that you’ve fully come down, he raises himself up on his arms, giving just the hint of a smile when you grab onto his biceps to steady yourself.

He’s so rigid that he doesn’t even need a hand to guide himself into you. He simply presses forward in one slow but sure moment, his eyes closed as if it’s a kind of religious experience, not opening them until he’s fully seated inside you. It’s been long enough since you’ve been with anyone that the feeling of being stretched draws a little whimper from your throat. He remains still, his eyes open and bearing down on you with a delirious kind of excitement, aching prick twitching inside you, desperate to proceed but waiting for a signal that he can.

And it’s at that moment that you allow yourself to think that this isn’t pity or a drunken mistake, that he’s as hungry for you as you have been for him and that what’s happened tonight has just served to connect a circuit. The fiercely possessive look in his eyes as he watches you, the fury when he thought someone else was claiming you, the need to mark you to make you his, the flush of pure lust on his face and chest… it is just a little frightening, something you suspected was in him but never that it was focused on you. But you’ve always known you could handle his darkness if he let you in. So you thrust your hips a little and wrap your legs loosely around his waist to show him that he can continue. Just as he starts to move, he cups your face and presses his mouth to your ear.

“You deserve so much better.”

“Stop trying to make those decisions for me,” you moan, feeling your insides flutter with his movements.

“I’ve never felt anything like that jealousy.” He’s staring into your eyes as he confesses. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder pressing deeper inside you and gasping at the feeling. “Knowing that everyone could see how sexy and beautiful you are… And I’m an idiot for waiting for that to happen before I did anything, I just…”

He grimaces and slows his pace a little, obviously trying to prolong the sensation.

“You mean it?” You have to ask because you still can’t quite believe that this has been on his mind for all this time when he’s shown no sign of it to you.

“God yes,” he answers through gritted teeth, once again allowing himself to move faster and more urgently.

You can’t completely banish your fears that he’s going to regret this in the morning and just shut you out again but every second with him is pushing them further away. You lace your fingers through his hair, nipping at the shell of his ear as he lets out his own stream of desperate, lusty noises, running your nails gently down his back as he approaches his crescendo.

His head drops to your chest and he cries out as he releases inside you.

“Fuck I love you, fuck I love you, fuck I love you.” He repeats it like a mantra that brings him back down from his high, saying it a final time as he looks into your eyes.

Slowly, he rolls onto his side, gathering you close to him like he thinks an errant breeze might carry you away.

“I have…” he begins quietly, “… there’s a lot that goes on in my head… Bad things, I guess. I thought you’d run away. Or that I’d pull you down with me. I still don’t know that won’t happen.”

He looks so vulnerable that it makes your heart hurt but at the same time you have to stifle a smile.

“Well I’d rather you let me try to deal with it. I’m a lot tougher than you give me credit for being.”

His expression grows a little guilty and he nods. He wraps his arms tighter around you and you do the same until the two of you are lying in your bed, wound around each other.

#aleister black fanfic #aleister black fan fiction #aleister black imagine #tommy end imagine #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #wwe smut #wayward wrestle writing #wrestling imagine #wrestling fanfiction

36 notes · View notes

nikibogwater · 4 years

Text

Bogwater’s Guide to Writing Platonic Relationships

Have a seat, dears, pour yourself a mug of cocoa, and let’s talk about writing for a bit. Specifically, writing emotionally intense, compelling relationships that are completely devoid of any romantic tension.

“Niki, those don’t exist! The only relationships that are truly intense and compelling are the romantic ones! Everybody knows that!”

*gently bonks you on the head with my magic scepter* NO. This is a common misconception that is perpetuated by media and especially fandom culture. And it stems from this bizarre idea that emotional intimacy must always equate with romantic intimacy. I have no idea where this idea got its start, but if you ask literally anybody who has experienced real, genuine friendship in their life, they will tell you it’s absolute nonsense. Just because you’re not doing the kissy-kiss with someone, that doesn’t mean you’re not emotionally intimate with them.

“But I don’t want any emotional intimacy without the kissy-kiss! It’s boring!”

Yeah, so, there’s a reason platonic relationships in modern media often feel less interesting than romantic ones, and it’s precisely because of what I said above. Media producers and many fic authors are skittish about showing platonic love with the same level of depth and emotional intensity as romantic, so it often ends up being somewhat watered down and simplified, to the point that it becomes a less interesting relationship. The only thing this does is perpetuate the idea that any and all emotional intimacy immediately implies romantic attraction (it does not) while also devaluing the very real importance of genuine friendship/familial bonds.

“Okay, but what if I just like romance better?”

That’s your personal preference, and that’s okay! Everybody has their favorite genres and tropes that resonate with them more than others. My personal favorite is Family, Found or otherwise (with a healthy dose of Hurt/Comfort on the side), but I can totally understand if romance speaks to you more. HOWEVER. This does not excuse writers and other content producers from low-key asserting that romantic relationships are objectively “better” than platonic ones. Hard fact of life: Nobody needs to experience romance, and even those who do experience it do so in different ways. But everybody does need to have emotional connections with other people through the bonds of friendship and family. Believe it or not, romantic love is not a universal experience. Platonic though? Everybody knows that one, and everybody needs it to be happy. To devalue it as a whole is to impose a toxic mindset that forces people to experience relationships in a very narrow and restrictive way.

Okay--*steps off my soap box and kicks it to the side*--now that we’ve established that friendship is important and should be given the same value that society gives to romance, let’s talk about a few ways to write intense and compelling platonic relationships!

Emotional Intimacy:

I’ve talked about this a lot already, but just in case some of you are confused, emotional intimacy is just when two people have a very deep familiarity and understanding of each other. They understand how the other’s mind works, and feel comfortable opening up to each other about their own stuff. Obviously, this is very important for any relationship, platonic or romantic, but writers will often limit such familiarity between characters to the romantic relationships. The first step to writing an interesting friendship is to not do that. Show that your platonic soulmates understand each other and are vulnerable with each other. Here are some easy ways to do that:

Character A knows all of Character B’s personal preferences--likes and dislikes, including small things like food, flowers, music, etc.

A can finish B’s sentences for them.

A is willing to talk about their feelings when B asks if they’re okay.

A and B trust each other and know the other always has their back

A and B will occasionally reference events in their shared history and even have inside jokes

A will seek B out for comfort when they are upset.

A and B almost never miscommunicate--they know what the other means when they say something, and will immediately notice if the other is acting strange.

A and B can communicate with each other silently, via subtle looks, eye movements, or gestures.

Selflessness:

To quote a grossly over-marketed Disney franchise, “Love is putting someone else’s needs before yours.” This is the simplest and also most accurate definition of love I’ve come across, and it is universal to all kinds of relationships. So in order to make your platonic relationship compelling, you need to show that the characters are willing to make sacrifices for each other--even big ones. Make sure this is a mutual exchange between both characters, because otherwise you risk making the relationship look a bit toxic. Here are a few of my favorite examples of selflessness between friends/family:

Character A willingly puts themselves in harm’s way in order to protect Character B.

A is always ready to drop what they’re doing and come to B’s assistance.

A and B regularly do small favors for each other without being asked.

A is always mindful of B’s needs and makes sure they’re taken care of.

A and B always do their best not to hurt each other, either physically or emotionally.

A is openly very worried whenever B is in danger and stops at nothing to help them.

Affection:

This is the part where most writers balk when writing platonic relationships. “They can’t touch each other!!! That’s sexy and weird!!!” No, it’s not. This idea that any and all signs of affection are exclusive to romantic relationships is toxic, and we need to wipe it from existence. Obviously there are different levels of physical intimacy, and some absolutely are exclusive to romantic relationships. Here’s a list of No-Gos if you want to keep a relationship completely platonic:

Kissing on the lips/mouth/neck.

Gazing deeply and silently into each other’s eyes for long periods of time for no other reason than to simply Gaze.

Doing the Do or otherwise touching each other in an explicitly sexual way (I feel like this one should be pretty obvious. Also wth guys, that stuff is grooooosssssssss 🤢)

Honestly those are the only ones that I can think of that are always exclusively romantic. Everything else requires pre-established context in order to be taken as such. So here’s a list of affectionate gestures that are totally safe for established platonic relationships!

Little forehead/cheek kisses.

Hugs--yes, even prolonged ones. Sometimes friends/family just want to hold each other for a while, and not in a sexy way.

Holding hands.

Leaning on each other.

Playing with each other’s hair or gently petting it in order to offer comfort.

Sleeping next to each other when circumstances require it (and neither of them makes any fuss over it)

Saying “I love you.” STOP MAKING THIS AN EXCLUSIVELY ROMANTIC THING, PLEASE, FOR THE SAKE OF ALL THAT IS PURE IN THIS WORLD!

Touching foreheads (my personal favorite of the lot!)

Maintaining prolonged eye-contact during moments of sincerity and communication, especially if Character A is trying to tell B something important.

Sweet little smiles, or other such soft looks of fondness

And many other gestures that I don’t have time to go over in this list.

Tip the First: When writing platonic affection, be sure to bear in mind your characters’ personalities and physical differences. For example, if Character A is significantly bigger and heavier than Character B, they probably wouldn’t be tackle-hugging B, because that would risk seriously injuring B. Different personalities also have different levels of comfort when it comes to physical affection. If you’re writing fanfic, it helps to revisit the source material and observe how the two characters interact with each other. And remember: just because two characters aren’t physically affectionate with each other, it does NOT mean they don’t have a deep and meaningful friendship. Also bear in mind that many people have different dynamics with different friends simply due to the way their personalities fit together. Not all of my friendships look the same, and it’s not because of insincerity on my part--I just have different interactions with different people.

Tip the Second: If you want the gestures of affection to really pack a punch, use them sparingly. Save your long, warm embraces for when the two characters finally reunite after a long separation. Have Character A take B’s hand only when they can sense that B is frightened and in need of reassurance. A “First Platonic Hug” scene can be just as sweet and feelsy as a “First Kiss” scene if you do it right! Also, don’t be afraid to talk at length about how a gesture of affection makes a character feel. Describe the warm fuzzies that bubble up in their chest when their friend/family member gives them a hug, wax poetic about how grateful they are to have said friend/family member in their life. Taking time to explore and dwell on a certain feeling should never be strictly reserved for the ones associated with romance.

And when in doubt:

Observe the professionals. Here are some fantastic platonic relationships from various pieces of media that I take tons of inspiration from:

Frodo and Sam from Lord of the Rings (especially in the books)

Jim and Toby from Dreamworks’ Tales of Arcadia series

Din and Cara from Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Lilo and Nani from Disney’s Lilo and Stitch

So in conclusion:

Listen, I get it. Romance is exciting and cute and sexy and very important in its own right, and society likes to beat us over the head with it these days. But I cannot impress on you enough just how vital platonic relationships are to living a good and fulfilling life. I am who I am today because of the family and friends who have helped me grow. Please don’t disregard it, whether in your writing or in your own life. Cherish friendship. Acknowledge the depth of your platonic feelings for someone. And writers, please don’t be afraid to express those feelings in your work. If we let friendship and family die, I can assure you, any potential for healthy romantic relationships will quickly follow suit.

#niki rambles #writing #fanfiction #long post

24 notes · View notes

apocalypsewriters · 4 years

Text

Not-a Damsel in Distress: Getting to the Heart of Friendship

Summary: Victor-Hecate needs some serious wardrobe help, so they invite some friends over. Flirting, gadgets and hijinks are involved

A/N: It's here!!!! The second part. It's quite long, so I'd advise you to find a place to relax, maybe with a snack or a drink (it's important to stay hydrated) And once again, the incredible, amazing, talented @pagesofcursive (Briar) has characters heavily featured here, and her characters are linked at the end. We have another part in the works, but for now, enjoy!

Even though they lay curled on their bed, Victor-Hecate still wore almost as much clothing as in school, though they were wearing it more casually. A comfortable silence spread between her and Aster, who sat just beside them. Victor-Hecate wore a lightweight deep magenta jacket, black fingerless gloves, a scarf thrown loosely around their shoulders, and a matching grey beanie pinning up their normally flyaway curls and covering their ears.

A buzzing sound split the air, coming from Victor-Hecate’s phone. They picked it up, resting the book they were reading on the bedside table. A smirk split their face as they read the text, their clear blue eyes glittering with mischief. “So,” they began, stretching out the word. “I may have forgotten to mention that I, uh, invited someone over.”

They watched mock excitement grow on Aster’s face, contrasting comically to her outfit. She had dark, ripped jeans on, and an old leather jacket, matching with combat boots that dangled off the edge of the twin bed. “Ooh, anyone I know?” she gushed, then paused, looking mildly disgusted at the bubbly tone.

“You could say that,” Victor-Hecate said, but before the last word left their mouth, the door to their room flew open. A trio of girls walked in, somehow vastly different from each other, yet they all seemed to belong together. The first girl that flounced in was the one Victor-Hecate knew the best – her cousin, Violetta. Her wavy chocolate brown hair swished around her shoulders, the top artfully twisted together in a collections of curls held by bobby pins, holding the flyaway hairs, the ones that annoyed her ever since they were small, out of her eyes Ever stylish, Violetta wore a white miniskirt with a lavender tank top, finishing the look with a pair of black wedge boots. They had been texting back and forth for most of the day, organizing the afternoon. Her bouncing walk screeched to a halt two steps past the doorway, and her laughter cut off abruptly as she noticed Aster perched out on the bed.

The second girl crashed into her, unprepared for the abrupt stop. Victor-Hecate vaguely knew her from her cousin’s social media feed and her brief description over texting that day. Juni wore a white fit and flare dress that cut off right at her knees with shocks of pink and yellow flowers scattered around the hem. Her wide grin at the joke she’d just told was stark white against her deep brown skin. Her black afro hair was mostly tamed by a white bandana, matching with the cute outfit she wore.

Victor-Hecate didn’t recognize the final girl, who stopped herself from crashing into the other two just in time. Though she was about the same height as the first two, she seemed smaller. Her shoulders were hunched and swallowed by her white NASA hoodie. She’d just pulled her hands out of the large front pocket to catch her balance, revealing frayed and patched sleeves. She didn’t exude nearly as much confidence as the other two, her black leggings not bringing anything to her already humble outfit. Her curly chestnut hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail that sat at the base of her neck – the hair tie seemed to be there only to keep most of her hair out of her face, not to make any statement. A glimpse of brown leather flashed from underneath her almost overlarge hoodie, but Victor-Hecate thought nothing of it.

Victor-Hecate smirked as they watched Aster straighten up as she locked eyes with Violetta. Their cousin broke free of the trance first, stammering, “Oh, Aster, I- I didn’t realize you were going to be here.” She faced her cousin. “Wait, why is she-” Violetta whipped back to Aster. “Why are you here?”

Aster exchanged a glance with Victor-Hecate, whose eyes glowed smugly. She sighed, collecting herself. “I met your cousin today, and we’re hanging out. Is there a problem?” Though her tone was even, almost a little hostile, her bouncing leg betrayed her nervousness. Aster slid to the edge of the bed. The tips of her ears matched the hue they had been earlier that day when the seated pair had briefly discussed Violetta in the hallway.

Violetta jumped to her own defense, holding up her arms placatingly. “No! No, not at all! I just… wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.” She had started going red too.

As the scene unfolded in front of them, Victor-Hecate’s smirk widened.

“So,” piped up Juni, her voice melodic and sweet. “What should we all do?”

Victor-Hecate watched the final girl shift uncomfortably, her eyes shifting between the not-so-subtly smitten pair. Finally, the girl spoke. “Is, uh, someone going to introduce me? I don’t really know anyone here. Besides Juni, that is.” She was surprisingly sure of herself when speaking, each word perfectly enunciated, her phrases carefully calculated. She reached for Juni’s hand for comfort, the action small but sweet.

“Right!” Juni gently squeezed the unknown girl’s hand, pulling her forward a little. “You met Violetta on the way over here, and then, uh, that’s Violetta’s cousin, Vee!” She waved enthusiastically at them, Bella echoing her, raising her hand. Victor-Hecate gave a little salute at being addressed, touching two of their fingers to their forehead. Juni continued, gesturing to Aster, who was trying to rearrange her position to seem less tense. “And then, that’s Aster, Violetta’s…” She paused, perhaps for dramatic effect, while also seeming to search for the right words. Violetta’s cheeks flared red in the silence; Aster opened her mouth in protest to whatever Juni would claim. Before either of them managed to make a sound, Juni settled on her word choice with a nod. “…academic rival.” She wiggled her eyebrows at the mystery girl, who rolled her eyes, having already picked up on the subtext. She pushed the girl forward a little more, who attempted to straighten up a little as Juni introduced her. “And, everyone, this is Bella!”

Victor-Hecate unfolded themself, straightening out their left leg and resting their right knee against their chest. “You’re Juni, right? Vi’s told me about you.” They stole a glance at Violetta, feeling guilty about how little they’d connected over the years, before addressing Bella. “But yeah, I’m Vee. Victor-Hecate. Tae. Whatever. Really, take your pick. I’ve collected more nicknames than I can count.”

Bella hummed, giving them a once-over. “Aren’t you hot with all that on?” The question, though a little prying, seemed innocent in intention. All the same, Victor-Hecate shifted uncomfortably.

Aster came to their rescue, redirecting the conversation. “Actually, that’s one of the reasons why I’m here today.” She slid the rest of the way off the bed, striding over to the closet and flinging the doors open with a bang, making everyone jump. “I’m helping them figure out new outfits and stuff.”

“And I was brought along? Really?” Bella mumbled to Juni, who shrugged in response. The pair perched on the bed, watching Aster look through the closet.

Violetta perked up immediately, rushing over to Aster to stick her head into the overstuffed closet. “And nobody told me about this? This is my specialty!”

Victor-Hecate nodded, unseen by the fashionista, who was already shoulder deep in the wardrobe, rummaging around. “That’s why I invited you over. I got into a bit of trouble at school, and I need help picking something out that won’t get me called out for dress code issues.”

Violetta stuck her head out of the closet, a piece of faux fur stuck in her hair, and scrutinized Victor-Hecate’s current outfit. “Have you thought about fewer layers?”

They shifted again, hugging their leg to their chest. “Not really.” She glanced desperately at Aster, who returned their helpless look. They scrambled for an excuse, for any reason other than their power. “I’ve been… uh, burning really easily lately, and I don’t want to take any risks.”

“You’ve been burning,” Bella scoffed, easily seeing through the blatant lie. “Like in the sun?”

Fortunately, Violetta didn’t notice, her head too deep into the layers of clothing again, looking for an outfit she approved of. “Mm, that makes sense, but maybe you can cover up without having everything being too… bulky?” Her voice was muffled by the copious coats. Frustration tinged her statement- probably because there wasn’t anything in the closet besides long-sleeved and thick jackets.

Victor-Hecate shrugged. “I guess? It’s just more… comfortable that way,” they said hurriedly, hoping to appease Violetta.

Finally, she emerged from the closet, stray hairs sticking up from her coiled hairstyle. She began redoing it, holding the bobby pins between her teeth, mulling over the situation. Between pins, she said, “Maybe we could buy you some cute jackets? And matching jeans?”

Her elbow brushed past Aster as she twirled up another piece of hair. Aster reddened at the closeness of her crush but managed to regain control and focus on the matter at hand. “What about long gloves?” she suggested.

“I guess that sounds good,” Victor-Hecate rearranged their scarf to cover more of their neck, uncomfortable with so many people close to them. They were glad Aster was there; she could help out if anything went wrong, as unlikely as it would be, and she could help deflect her cousin and her friends’ questions. They mulled over Aster’s suggestion, a nagging feeling persisting the longer they pondered the suggestion. “Is that allowed though? At school, I mean.”

“It’s not stated in the school rules that it isn’t allowed,” Bella recited. “So, I suppose you should be able to. But the hat…”

“Yeah, I know.” Victor-Hecate leaned back, trying to relax. There was no need to be closed off because they were around nice people, but it was still a bit difficult. “So, what are you two into? We might as well kill time as Vi organizes my makeover.” They grimaced a little, calling out to their cousin who was near buried in their closet again, “Nothing too extreme, ‘kay?”

“I’ll keep an eye on her, don’t worry,” Aster reassured, her tone light and teasing. Violetta giggled, the sound smothered by clothing again.

“Well,” Juni said, nudging Bella, “what do you want to do?”

Bella went stark white, nervous at the prospect of being the one to decide what the group could do. “Oh, it’s not that interesting,” she said, fumbling with her words. “Too nerdy to be interesting.” The explanation came out in a rush, as if the faster she spoke, the sooner they’d move on, but Juni wouldn’t let it go so easily.

The sunny girl perked up, grinning. “Spill!”

“It’s not much really,” Bella shyly mumbled, fishing around in what had been hidden underneath her hoodie earlier – a toolbelt. Unbuttoning one of the many pouches, she delicately fished out a small white box. It was made of shiny white material that looked smooth to the touch. Its rounded corners leaned its design to a sleek and modern feel. Two black lines traced from halfway up one face, across another, up to the opposite side it started on. The shy girl placed it on her palm, black facing down and a blue line lit up around the top of the box.

“Ooh,” Victor-Hecate said, leaning in. An intrigued expression crossed their face. “What does it do?”

Bella pressed an almost imperceptible button on top and the black popped out to reveal tracks. “It’s a prototype I’m developing,” she explained. “Gravity and surfaces are strange on extraterrestrial planets, so I’m working to calibrate the grip of the tracks to work on more surfaces, you see…” Victor-Hecate, baffled by her explanation, followed her gaze around the room – everyone who was listening wore a similar expression. None of them truly understood her description of the robot.

Juni leaned in, running her finger along the smooth surface. Her expression melted from confusion to curiosity. “It looks so cool, but… can you explain it in easier terms?”

Steeling herself and nodding, Bella tried again. “Right. Sorry. It would probably be easier just to show you.” She pulled out her phone, opening a completely foreign app. Tapping the screen a few times, the bot spun on her hand, seeming to gain its bearings. She laid it on the bed and it immediately traversed across the covers. To a chorus of gasps, it crawled up the wall, shifting easily from rough plaster to a smooth poster of the Coliseum and back again, before finally settling on the roof. Juni bounced up and down in excitement, cooing over Bella’s project.

Victor-Hecate’s gaze locked on the cube, moving to sit cross-legged, their mouth dropped open. “So, I’m guessing this is what you do? Like, your dream job, considering…” They waved their arm vaguely at the sleek white square on the bedroom roof and the well-loved NASA hoodie the shy girl was wearing.

“Yeah, it is,” Bella said. She nodded slowly, hesitantly. She pressed the screen again, and the strip of light went out. It dropped from the ceiling, Juni shrieking as it fell, which brought Violetta out of the jungle of the closet. It landed safely on the bed, bouncing slightly.

Letting go of Bella’s hand and placing her own to her chest, Juni recovered from the shock. “That is so cool!” she finally managed. “Have you named it?”

“No.” Bella blushed, seeming ashamed. “You know I don’t do that sort of thing. I leave it up to you,” she mumbled. Using her newly freed hand, she picked up the unassuming cube and stashed it back into her toolbelt. After clasping it shut, her expression softened as she saw Juni with a look of contemplation, taking her new job seriously. She glanced around, trying to read and process the mood of the room. “But this isn’t about my stuff. It’s about Victor-Hecate.”

“You really don’t have to use my whole name.”

Bella shrugged a little, brushing off the comment. “Since we’re trying to make sure they-” She paused, glancing anxiously at Victor-Hecate, who shrugged. “-won’t get in trouble anymore, I’d like to offer some advice. I suggest acclimating yourself to wearing fewer layers,” Bella said. She rolled up her sleeves, fidgeting as she talked. “Based on your body language, I’d assume you’re pretty comfortable here, so perhaps you can take off a few layers to learn to be more comfortable without them. Besides,” she said, giving up on folding back her sleeves and taking off the jacket entirely to combat the heat, revealing a muted cyan t-shirt underneath. “Don’t you find it hot here?”

Victor-Hecate blanched, cursing the shy girl’s perceptiveness. While she had good intentions, and they were mostly comfortable in the group of girls, they were still aware of the danger the others brought into the room. Frantically, Victor-Hecate fumbled for an excuse to keep their layers on.

Before they could come up with an idea, Violetta whipped around, her face alight with excitement. “Ooh, yeah! That way we can figure out how to build the outfit from there!”

“Only if you want to, Cat,” Aster said quickly.

Bella blinked, a little startled at the nickname casually thrown out.

“I’d rather not,” replied Victor-Hecate, their lips quirking up at the nickname.

“Why not?” blurted Bella, before clapping a hand over her mouth and going red. Her tense expression softened as Juni squeezed her hand before turning to face Victor-Hecate again, suggesting softly, “At least take off your hat?”

Victor-Hecate resisted the urge to put a hand to their chest to ground themself. Working to regulate their breathing, they finally managed to protest desperately, “I might have hat hair.”

Violetta’s expression was tender as she fruitlessly tried to reassure her cousin, “Nobody’s going to judge you, don't worry, Vee.”

“Fine,” they sighed. Mulling over the situation, they decided to go the whole way; they unwrapped their scarf, folding it on the bed beside them. Tugging off their beanie, their hair tumbled out, sticking out at odd angles. A little bitter that their cousin pushed for their change, they pelted the beanie at her. Under everyone’s eyes, Victor-Hecate shifted awkwardly, uncomfortable with the attention they weren’t used to.

Juni squealed. “Oh, your hair is so pretty!” Abandoning Bella, she leaned closer to Victor-Hecate, reaching to brush a strand of hair out of their face and tuck it behind their ear.

Victor-Hecate scrambled backward too late, their back hitting the wall just as Juni’s hand brushed their ear and lingered. Their chest exploded with pain. Their heart felt like it was about to burst, ready to fill their torso with shrapnel. It beat at a million miles an hour, pounding their blood past their ears, muffling the sound in the room, drowning out their cousin’s scream. Their breathing shallowed, and they struggled to calm down; they had experienced countless deaths before, but this was one of the worst. Taking a ragged breath, sucking in as much air as they could, they twisted the hem of their jacket, trying to recover as much as they could with Juni now clutching their head concernedly. Their chest still aching, they surveyed the room – Aster was clutching Violetta, who looked queasy and unsteady on her feet, Bella was peeking over Juni’s shoulder, a look of intrigue lighting up her face, and Juni was bent over them, terror etching her features.

Watching Victor-Hecate’s eyes clear a little, Juni pushed down her panic and started ordering the others around. “Okay, guys, someone call 911, and, uh, Vi, can you grab some aspirin? And–”

“No,” choked out Victor-Hecate. They pushed down a cough as they ran out of air. “Don’t! Please don’t call an ambulance. I don’t need it. I’m begging you. And could you–” They cut off with a shout as pain surged again. Their chest seized, leaving them momentarily unable to breathe. Panting, they clawed at their chest, desperate for the pain to stop but helpless to do anything.

“No,” echoed Aster. She tugged at Juni’s arm, but the usually sunny girl stayed put, concerned for their host, whose screams had stopped as their shallow breaths prevented any sound besides wheezing. Breaking free of Aster’s grip, she pulled at their still covered arms, trying to stop them from hurting themself further. Aster’s half-baked continuation trickled past the pain to Victor-Hecate, “It’s- god, it’s really hard to explain, but basically they aren’t in danger. It’s just their power.”

Bella’s eyes glittered with a thirst for knowledge, her voice steeped in curiosity, “Their power?”

Aster looked around the room helplessly before locking eyes with Victor-Hecate. Keeping their gaze on her, they shook their head. Not now. Aster huffed, seeming to respect their wish, despite not understanding it. “I- It’s their place to tell you, not mine.”

Victor-Hecate tried their best to smile through the pain at Aster. Suddenly, they gasped as their heart squeezed. They reached for Juni’s arm, intending to try to pull it off, but as Juni cupped their cheek, trying to reassure them, pain spiked, and their hand dropped with a muffled thump against their agony-wracked chest. Misinterpreting the action, Juni reached for their hand, only to be caught by Aster. Staring right back at Juni’s judgmental glare, Aster said, “I can't explain, but touching them isn’t- it isn’t good.”

“Are you sure?” Bella questioned skeptically, Juni nodding with her. “I would think they need comfort right now.”

Clutching Aster’s arm, Violetta leaned over the darker dressed girl to get a better view of her cousin. “You’re sure you’re okay?” she asked, concerned.

Victor-Hecate yearned to reply, to comfort Violetta. They tried to nod but failed as pain flared up again, and they curled in on themself. Violetta let out a sob, leaning into Aster’s reassuring touch as she wrapped an arm around the distraught girl. Curiosity getting the better of her, Bella hopped off the edge of the bed to examine the prone figure rolled up like a pill bug on their pillow. As she leaned in, her hand brushed Victor-Hecate’s fingertips. Immediately, they flinched away, a biting cold surging out from the point of contact, mixing unpleasantly with the already squeezing pain in their chest.

With a pointed look at Bella, Aster levelly pleaded, “Let’s just give them a bit of space, okay?”

Reluctantly, Juni moved away from Victor-Hecate, hugging Bella for comfort. The quartet watched with bated breath for the now black-eyed vigilante to still. Slowly, ever so slowly, the pain ebbed. Their chest eased, their heart rate returned to normal and their breathing deepened. Sitting up sooner than they should have, Victor-Hecate almost collapsed again as pain twinged on the left side of their chest. Their dark complexion was paler than usual as they propped themself up against the wall.

“Thank you,” they managed breathlessly.

Violetta’s forehead wrinkled, a crease appearing between her eyebrows. “Vee, I don’t- What happened?”

Victor-Hecate sighed, picking at the now rumpled scarf beside them, but resisting the urge to put it on. They traced the dark grey lines of the scarf design, unable to meet their cousin’s eyes as they softly spoke, “That's why I stopped talking with you.” They looked up, trying to gauge her reaction. “That’s my power.”

“Yes, but what is it?” Bella seemed to hold her tongue after the question spilled out. Based on her speaking patterns so far, a hundred questions waited behind that one. When Victor-Hecate stayed silent, Bella exclaimed, “It was incredible!” She cleared her throat awkwardly, reigning in her enthusiasm. “Incredibly interesting, that is. Your irises went completely black, which is fascinating.” She cocked her head, looking over Victor-Hecate again, who shrank a little under her inquisitive gaze. “You have almost completely recovered from whatever just occurred. Please, please explain it.”

Fixing their gaze on the scarf once more, they reluctantly explained, unwilling to keep them in the dark any longer. Rumors could spell more trouble than the truth. “I feel whatever pain you will feel when you die. It only happens while I’m being touched, so that's why…” They waved their arm vaguely at the scarf and wardrobe full of disturbed bulky coats and beanies. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just... didn’t want you to think less of me. Especially since you,” Victor-Hecate said, glancing toward Violetta, “have a functioning, helpful power, but I’m just stuck with this.” They gestured to themself before letting their arm drop, defeated.

“Oh, that’s awful! I- I’m so sorry,” Violetta said. Victor-Hecate lifted their gaze, hopeful. Violetta didn’t sound horrified, just concerned.

Juni held a hand over her mouth, echoing Violetta’s sentiment. “I- I feel so bad- I didn’t mean to touch you earlier, I swear–”

Victor-Hecate waved their hand, dismissing her apology. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean to hurt me.” They rubbed her knee comfortingly, the fabric of the dress soft under their fingers. “You only wanted to help. Though I’d like to know, what was that? I haven’t really felt that type of pain before. My best guess is some kind of heart failure, but...” They trailed off, worried they’d pried too much.

Juni’s eyes widened in terror. “I…” She shrank back a bit, nestling into Bella’s hug, closing her eyes. “I do have heart problems, and I guess– I guess they come back later.”

Bella pulled Juni a bit tighter, resting her chin on the darker girl’s shoulder. She let out a puff of air, giving up on holding back her questions. “And me?”

Victor-Hecate shook their head. “It was too quick to get any kind of specifics. It was cold. That’s all I know.” They cast a cursory glance at Violetta, who still stood close to Aster, their hands interlocked. “Do you want to know?”

She hesitated for a moment before shaking her head, waves of rich brown hair falling on either side of her shoulders. “No. I- I can’t–” She leaned onto Aster again, squeezing her hand for comfort.

“I understand. And…” Victor-Hecate struggled to keep their expression and voice neutral. Although they understood the horror the others’ were feeling, it still hurt coming from family. Looking around the room again, they swallowed audibly. “…I get it if you want to leave. My power’s unsettling. I know that.”

“No, no, no! Don’t worry, I’m- it was just... a bit shocking at first,” Violetta hastily protested. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Me neither,” affirmed Juni. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of your power, it’s part of who you are! And maybe we can help in some way.”

Bella nodded enthusiastically, still biting back questions. Catching Victor-Hecate’s gaze, she slipped her left hand behind her back, a flash of white they hadn’t noticed before snagging their eye.

Brushing off the slight confusion, Victor-Hecate relaxed a little, a relieved smile gracing their face. “Thank you.” They rubbed their arm sheepishly. “And some wardrobe help would be appreciated. I really don’t want to get stopped at school again.”

Bella tapped her chin thoughtfully, tilting her head back to get a better view of the multicolored leotards knocked askew from the back of the wardrobe. “Have you considered a full skin-colored leotard?”

“I have, but it’s a pretty strange request and is probably expensive as heck,” they replied.

Bella chuckled. “I think I know someone who knows just the person.” She side-eyed Juni and lightly squeezed the sunny girl’s shoulders.

Juni’s eyes lit up, catching the hint just a few seconds later. “My girlfriend would be happy to buy some new clothes! Nyx- she, uh, she wants to get back at her dad and everything, so she doesn’t mind spending his money at all.”

“I’m sure she won’t mind at all,” Bella agreed, relishing in her friend’s excitement. It was her first genuine smile of the day, besides the ones fueled by curiosity.

Victor-Hecate considered the offer before accepting the idea. “Cool. When do you think we can meet up? And where does she live?”

Juni smiled sweetly and pulled out her phone, “Ooh, well, I’ll text her–”

��Oh, don’t worry, I know already,” Bella cut in. “She’s free this Friday, provided her douche of a father doesn’t spring anything on her.” She grimaced in sympathy.

Victor-Hecate sat forward on the bed, placing their hands on their knees. “Perfect, I guess. Will she have enough space for all of us?”

“Vee,” Violetta tutted, smiling triumphantly, humor glimmering in her eyes. “If you thought my house was big, then you are not prepared for the size of her mansion."

Characters (in order for appearance): Victor-Hecate, Aster, Violetta, Juni, Bella

#ahaaaa that was a lot #original character #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #anabella silvette #juni #violetta #aster #victor-hecate #writersociety #short story #not-a-damsel in distress series #fusion au #lgbtqia+ community #because what's the point in writing if at least one person isn't part of that

7 notes · View notes

eyes-like-a-pisces · 4 years

Text

Rules: Answer 10 questions, tag 10 people and make another 10 questions.🧜‍♀️

Questions from my astrological twin: @maiden-song 💕

1. if you could choose to glimpse the afterlife, would you?

Yes, I would. I think a lot about It.

2. under what circumstances do you think you past life was lived?

I could have had many past lifes. I think I was a native american, cause I've always felt bonded to their tradicion and same with China, cause when I hear the sound of Erhu - traditional chinese instrument, something wakes up in me. I've also always wanted to see Sweden & Finland, so maybe I was doing something there... I mean, I could do anything. I see myself in biblical times, as well as middle ages. I could be a renaissance artist, as well as dying of hunger during victorian era, or something, and that's probably why I'm still careful with money, haha. For my latest one, I think I could have been a hippie in the 60/70s and had some drug use experience, cause when I was a child I used have dreams about taking drugs, even if I didn't know anything about It. I also had some experience with psychics (and "psychics"), my mom had a past life regression and she told me she saw me few times... I don't take anything for granded, but reincarnation is one of my favourite theories.

3. what three skills would you instantly master if you had the choice?

Playing every instrument, speaking every language, singing beautifully

4. would your rather no passion or no pain?

No pain. Everything is needed in life, but you know, enough is enough.

5. if you had a chance to leave this world and go to another one, would you take it?

Depends of the world and who I would meet there. Even if this world can be cruel and disappointing at times, I still have some love for him and humanity.

6. if you could smell like anything in the world, what would it be?

Like the first day of spring, when you go outside and the air smells different. Or a storm.

7. do you feel like common interests or philosophical comparability are not important?

They are very important. I can't imagine a relationship without similar interests, views. You either get bored or fight constantly. I think that the whole point of searching a partner is trying to find things you got in common. The more similar you are, the more understood you feel and more you are attracted to them. That's my experience at least. That's a very basic example, but as you may noticed, I'm very much into music and I was dating a guy, who wasn't into music that much at all. I thought It doesn't matter at first, but then I started feeling like I'm missing my favourite way to connect with other person. Once I met a guy who loved music as much as I do, I'm sorry to admit It, but my partner became unattractive to me.

Similar interests and views are needed at the beginning, to bond with somebody, and later, to simply enjoy spending time together (thanks Captain Obvious). I mean... chemistry and good will are not enough for a relationship to last. Don't get me wrong, I don't think you have to be identical and agree on everything - some differences can be inspiring, balance your relationship and teach you something new. It's also ok and even needed, to have some separate hobbies, things that you like to do on your own. There are also other important things, like, if you equally care about each other and if you are on the same page in general, but I can't imagine not agreeing in the key points and things that are the most important to you. And the only person who can decide what is the most important is the person who is in that relationship, no matter if It's about interests, philosophy or religion. But beside a romantic relationship, I think It's good to be surrounded by different people and listen what they got to say.

8. if there was one mystery you alone could learn the answer too, what would it be?

The mystery of life in general. Why we are here, is there any destiny, how we are connected, how this universe works, what happens after death...

9. in your opinion, is there anything more important than love?

No :) (I'm not talking about putting your relationship before other things. I'm talking about love as a big force and meaning of this universe)

10. describe a new planet you would live on, if you could.

I want things to be diverse, monumental... Maybe another moon, why not. As a concept of the world, I wish there would be peace :) everybody has their safe place to live, will to live, passion, purpose, someone to love and who loves them back. Amen.

Questions from @mybloodiedvalentine 💕👯

1. What is an unpopular opinion you hold you about which you feel strongly and with which you seem to notice a lot of people disagree?

Nothing specific comes to my mind at the moment (that I haven't mentioned before). I sure have some, but what's unpopular opinion in general and what's unpopular opinion on tumblr, are two different things. Maybe, that the "tumblr positivity" is not really helpful. Like: "in case you need to hear this: you are smart, you are loved... ". How do you know that? Those are just empty words. But It's better to spread positivity than negativity, of course.

2. What is the nicest thing a stranger has ever told you that you can recall?

Oh, I had a few situations like that... This is so lovely, when a stranger wants to just be genuinely nice, not just catcalling you...For example, when I was with my 3 girlfriends at the club and 2 ladies in their 40s where like: "excuse me, we just wanted to say that we can't stop starring at you all, cause you are the priettiest girls in the club." And we were like: aww, omg, you are beautiful too, come dance with us. And we were all dancing in our witches circle ignoring all sweaty men around us, haha. Or when my mom went to the the same hair saloon as me and asked hair dresser if she remembers me and she said that she does and that I'm nice and intelectual. I'm her faithful client now ;_; (Sorry for sucking my own dick, but It was nice to remind myself about these situations).

3. Has a piece of art or music ever made you cry? If so, do you remember a specific moment?

Crying to music is my passion. The latest intense moment was few days ago. I was loading a dishwasher at night and I played some music and then "lover you should've come over" by Jeff Buckley came on and sudden wave of lonelliness hit me so hard, that I just had to put down the plate, hide my face in my hands and weep ✌

4. What’s your favourite piece of clothing?

Idk, maybe my Penny Lane coat :)

5. What’s a random childhood memory that fills you with a deep sense of comforting nostalgia?

Sledding with kids during a very cold winter in my home town, until It got dark and snow looked like sprinkled with glitter and having my freezed feet warmed up with a hair dryer, when I came back home, haha.

6. What is/was your favourite thing about your mom? If not your mom, your dad? Or best friend?

My favourite thing about my mom is that she's tolerant and open minded. I didn't have to lie to her or pretend I'm someone I'm not because of that. My favourite thing about my dad is that he actually cared about being a parent, even tho my parents divorced. I respect that he has unwavering morals and huge knowledge about a world - biology, astronomy, music, art...- subject doesn't matter- but he is very modest about It.

7. What’s something you learned on your own of which you’re proud?

Playing guitar

8. When was a moment in your life you remember laughing the hardest?

I was playing cards since I was a kid. After few years, when I was about 13 y. o. I got the first poker, a royal flush. When I saw my cards, I'm not sure why, I just coudn't believe my luck, I started laughing so hard I almost died.

9. What do you like to do when you’re having a hard time mentally that invariably calms you down?

Really depends of the kind of situation and if It's triggered by something or just a longer period of time feeling in a certain way. The is no a magic trick, but some things might be helpful. When It's concrete situation, at first, when the feelings are really intense, then I just can't calm down. Every try to do so, has a reverse effect. Like, I CAN'T THE FUCK CALM DOWN and It makes me even more angry. Brain needs about 20 min to chill, if It's not triggered, so It's better to be left alone and just go mad a little until brain will have enough haha. Have a good cry, listen to some music, have a lonely walk, write my feelings down etc.

I like to listen to Teal Swan on youtube. She's a spiritual teacher. I know, It might not sound encouragingly, but she actually seems very down to earth. She has a video about like, every emotion and every problem ever. She's very good in naming feelings, rationalizing them and It makes you feel more understood. And It calms me down as result. ASMR doesn't work for me, but I remember that at some point I liked to listen to sounds of the nature, like rain, waves etc + guided meditation to fall asleep.

Music always helps in general - listening, playing guitar, singing. I also like to take an oil and do a face massage. I'm really sorry if I sound like an instagram influencer 🤢, but when you feel bad for a longer time, you frown and there is a tention in your jaw, it can be really relieving. I follow instructional videos on yt.

When I have a longer period of going into downward spiral, then every way to distract my brain is good - TV shows, internet content that is not related to my life situation (although, sometimes It's good to distance yourself from social media), for example, I like criminal podcasts, cause they are occupying enough to distract a miserable brain, meeting somebody, going to a place I've never been before. + any kind of shedule, reason to leave the house, any goal, anything positive to look forward to and having even the simplest things done, is a blessing (even if sometimes It's the last thing I wanna do). I also tend to be much sadder in the evening, so I just go to sleep. When nothing works, then It's time for the professional help.

10. Do you have a favourite holiday memory?

Discovering Cocteau Twins.

Best regards if u actually read all that chatter, but those questions were so interesting, that I couldn't limit myself to one sentence answer (in most cases).

My questions are:

1. Who or what was the most influential for your music taste?

2. If you could time travel, where and when would you like to go first?

3. If you could be someone from an opposite gender for a day, how would you like to look like and what would you do?

4. Do you have a style icon/inspiration? Or a favourite designer? Desribe your dream clothing style

5. What's the song by a band/artist from your country that you could recommend? (From your hometown or state eventually)

6. What is the most rebellious thing you've ever done?

7. Has ever something in your life happened, that you coudn't explain with logic?

8. What 5 objects someone could use to summon you?

9. What is your favourite name from your culture's language? And outside your culture's language?

10. What's a song you normally wouldn't admit you like or different from music that you usually listen, but still enjoy?

I tag: @winterdryad @bowiepop @nightmare @confusion-in-the-sea-of-sorrow @l0w-budget @numberoneblind @mirandasinclairs @mysticbride @leperwitch @comeacrossthedesertnoshoeson @hexafu @mielmelancolie @arcane-delight

#don't reblog this or any of my personal posts please #and thank you

17 notes · View notes

violetsystems · 4 years

Text

#personal

The holidays are quiet if not a little more restful than usual. I facetime’d my dad and his wife and talked to my mom on the phone. Since I left my job way back in July I haven’t had much video contact with anybody. Everybody is too busy baking banana bread on YouTube I guess to check in. The final days of my employment had devolved into a virtual SCRUM twice a day led by myself on camera. It was exhausting at times to lead but kept people focused. That is when they bothered to show up. One of my employees was off making music with my boss half the time I was trying to lead those discussions. I’m beginning to sense a theme. People saying they are there but not really. Maybe the mic is muted. Maybe you can’t see behind the screen. All I know is the follow through lately with people is missing entirely. I spent a good hour the last two days trying to decouple a credit card from my old job’s contact info. I’m locked out of both the phone number and the email attached to the account. I got the run around trying to provide a US passport to confirm my identity. It was good enough to enter China alone. The first call that ID was sufficient. They had said they sent an email to follow through with the process to two different emails I provided. The email never came most likely because neither had been tied to the account previously. I called back on Christmas eve and suddenly the passport wasn’t good enough. Neither was an expired driver’s license. The woman actually asked me why I hadn’t renewed my driver’s license. I told the truth. My ex girlfriend stole my car. That didn’t really help the situation. I sent a passport photo to unlock my facebook but they never followed through. I had an easier time unlocking my Fortnite account with it although that took a full week. I ended having to call the police on Christmas eve to explore filing a report for fraud and identity theft. The police officer on the phone pretty much gaslighted me at the end of the questioning. “Nothing criminal.” he stated plainly. I didn’t get mad. I didn’t even complain. I simply said Happy Holidays and hung up. Much like I’ve hung up on the last twenty years of my life at this point. Nobody seems to want to answer the video call. The opening introduction if they did would be something like “What exactly have you done with my life?” Maybe they’re afraid to confront the truth. The media, the government, and even the police seem to not want to believe evidence that contradicts their narrative. I guess you could throw up your hands and revolt. But the holidays have been peaceful and quiet enough to simply roll my eyes and move on. I’ve had years of failures to connect. COVID has taught me a lot of things. I heard the mantra in all the mandatory corporate webinars. This pandemic has brought to light structural problems we were never aware of before. Sexual harassment in the workplace. Check. Organizational corruption. Check. The fact everybody is full of bullshit and will just mute the mic and pretend it never happened. Check. People feel invincible behind a screen and think they know it all. Check. Now that we’re aware. What do we do? How do we move on with our life now that we have all this space? How do I even care about participating in a broken process when I have no debt and fiscal maturity? How can I go back to being the old me when I’ve been completely erased and conveniently forgot about? Why would I even bother?

Mostly I take the time with this process to make sure my identity is completely secure. Which is why it’s not really fun to be locked out of twenty years of your own information in the form of an email account and forgotten about for six months. But this is just the structural reality come to light. Much like the rest of America is waking up to the reality of what greed really does to people. That was my Christmas present this year aside from the coffee that never came and that Cyberpunk game that I don’t really have the time or the subpar computer setup to criticize. I’m guilty of tricking myself into thinking people care about me. I have statistical data from the last six months that proves otherwise. I also have financial data that points to whatever hustle I have been hustling during that time has paid off and will continue to. But I don’t really have an answer to anything. I’m in the worst kind of limbo. I don’t get the sense these days that I should even remotely worry until July. Which is kind of like saying fuck you to the world for the next six months. I spent the last six waking up from a nightmare. The only times I look back is to clean up the mess. And a Christmas Eve call to the police is kind of messy. But the result is more of the same for me. An extravagant “I told you so.” I’ve been telling myself for awhile now a lot of things. Some of them were kind of unbelievable. Now those very dreams are all I really take comfort in. The limbo I’m in is more pointed to the light at the end of the tunnel than the void. But I can’t say the same for everybody else. I work for myself for the time being. It looks really nice on paper. I can even pay myself if it fits into my organization’s financial outlook. But none of this matters when you or your struggles don’t even exist to people other than to mock or judge it. All the work we do to survive. All the work we do to create art and to be beautiful in the face of chaos. All of that is negated by a loud mouthed jerk who can bark you back into submission. A mob of dumb ass fraudsters that talk over and mute any opposition without any warrant or merit. The press follows this mentality pretty clearly. Everybody has a hot take and a theory. But nobody wants to sit down and listen to the culmination of lies spread about people and situations. Everyone is too emotionally interested in sharing their recipe for banana bread to an invisible audience. I guess I could be guilty of that too. Except that I share actual human emotion and care with a community of people who pay attention week to week. For a person like myself who has no real need to worry about money for the foreseeable future what’s the value of care and attention? A lot. I don’t feed myself with vapor or fake sentiments. I take it all at base level as real as it gets. You can’t build a future on speculation. You can technically if you are in the stock market. But risk is risk. And money is money. No one can be me at the end of the day. Sometimes I can’t even prove I’m myself. My mom reminded me I had to provide ten pieces of documentation to renew my passport ten years ago. The reasoning was simple. The government did not believe I existed. No bullshit. A decade later nothing really has changed. I’ve been to Shanghai by myself and eaten McDonald’s. I read all these Republicans talk about how you put your identity at risk just setting foot in that country.

And yet when does the rhetoric and brainwashing fall flat on it’s face? When you can’t pass economic stimulus to not only save your own people but the fragile stock market all this bullshit is built upon. I could keep telling you I told you so. Or I could save my own ass. And largely I did without really owing much to this country whatsoever except taxes in Q1. Taxes billionaires don’t have to pay because they offer us so much relevant employment and benefits that fit on their bottom line. The real truth is that America would rather not face the truth. It hasn’t for years. It’s built on this kind of thing. It always has been. And the world gets bigger and the excuses get worse. And so what does anyone expect a person like me to do after you openly admit that there’s nothing criminal going on here. How does that sound when you’ve been treated openly like a criminal in so many unsettling ways that you just don’t want to participate in society anymore? Not that anyone really asks me to participate. They’re too busy signaling or whispering secret messages. Is it suggestion or valid communication? I’m the one that has to shift through it all and detangle the mess from what is real and what is some sort of mass hallucination. An alternate reality hunger game that the rich have been playing for years without any punishment or oversight. When you get caught up in the crossfire they expect you to know the drill. Keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you. None of this is good for me. You could argue it made me the beast that I am. But I am the one who had to actively make that choice to adapt and survive. But I’m not like any normal person these days. I refuse to admit it anymore. They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. I have a problem. One that it seems I cannot fix. And if you isolate and quarantine yourself from an entire twenty years of nostalgia what is left? Where are the texts of merry xmas from yesteryear. Probably pinging my old work number. I can’t access my facebook. Maybe that’s for the best. I can’t shut down lines of credit until I renew my state ID. I could jump on a plane and visit Shanghai Disney quicker than I could prove I’m alive to the US government. And when does the constant gaslighting break down? When do we realize that people gaslight to cover up an elaborate lie that has gotten out of control. That we are not all in this together. Not by a longshot. That the problem of connectedness is right there in front of our faces. We’re exhausted propping up entire infrastructures that keep a bloated empire alive. Family fortunes built on opioids and war strewn out across the landscape in trusts and elaborate tax schemes. Oligarchs that have generational wealth that buy our politicians and scam people into debt and forced labor. This is America. This is the systemic problem the pandemic brought to light. This shit was built this way. And like any fort constructed with shaky foundations, good luck hiding from the storm in that shit. At least I can still access my Epic account. What am I going to do for the next six months? Complain about something I can’t fix because everybody wants to consider me part of the problem? I don’t know what to do anymore except move forward and lead by example. There’s enough quality people who follow to keep me warm with those thoughts through the holidays alone. I won’t be drunk on a zoom call. I’ll be in bed watching Wonder Woman or something. When everyone you worshipped comes out of this looking fake, tired and exhausted you’ll know where to find me. Unlocking more accounts tied to an identity that doesn’t exist anymore. Nothing criminal. Hopefully people will stop treating me like one eventually. <3 Tim

3 notes · View notes

mirkwoodshewolf · 5 years

Text

You gave me the greatest award of all; Rami Malek x reader

*Author’s note*

Hey guys well I finally managed to get some writing done. This came from a wattpad request and it was for our beloved Rami. Now I have been in love with this guy since I first saw him in Night at the Museum and I can’t tell how proud I am of him for coming so far since then. I’m looking forward to seeing him as the villain of the next Bond film as well as the final season of his series Mr. Robot.

Now not really any warnings just nothing but PURE, UNADULTERATED FLUFF with our beloved Rami Malek :) hope you all enjoy this :)

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@ixchel-9275

@waddles03

@geek-and-proud

@queendeakyy

@coolcxt

@mexifangorl

_______________________________________________________

Telling Rami:

Two lines. I can’t believe this. Two lines equals pregnant. And it wasn’t just for one pregnancy test, I went ahead and took three. Cause I knew sometimes pregnancy tests can sometimes give a false positive so I went ahead and got three and shockingly all three said the same thing in the end.

I was sitting on mine and Rami’s hotel bed trying to calm myself down before I had a panic attack. That’s when the door opened and I heard my dear friend Joey’s voice say.

“Yo Rami, Ben, Gwil and I are going out for…..(Y/n)?”

“Joey.” I whispered softly. He ran up to me and knelt down in front of me.

“Hey, what’s going on squirt? Hmm? Why’re you crying?” he said as he stroked the side of my face. See I had known Joey ever since we were 5 years old. Our moms were best friends in college and when my mom moved us across to a new house, she finally reunited with her best friend and it was only fitting that I got along with the Mazzello children.

As Joe became a famed child actor, I got interested in some of the behind the scenes stuff like makeup and hair. So by the time I graduated college, I got involved in some movie roles doing hair and makeup and that’s where I reunited with Joey in set of Wooly boys as an assistant makeup artist at the time.

We rekindled our lost times and he’s been like the ‘twin’ brother I’ve ever had (technically I was born the day after he was but we say screw the facts we’re twins in diapers).

After getting more experience I reunited with Joey being his main makeup artist for his role as Eugene Sledge in “The Pacific” and that’s where I had met the love of my life, Rami Malek. From day one Joey had shipped us together and played matchmaker for us. Then finally by the end of filming, Rami and I started going steady until finally we made it official.

So with my two boys at my side I could never go wrong. At least until today.

“Promise me you won’t get mad.”

“That depends. Did someone say something to you? Cause if they did then I swear to god I’ll……”

“No, no Joey nobody said anything. It’s…..” I trailed off.

“Hey, you know you can tell me anything, right?” I nodded as he wrapped an arm around me. “So c’mon baby twin. Tell me why you’re crying? If you don’t I’m gonna bring out the tickle monster.”

“Okay, okay I’ll talk just please. Don’t bring that out. We’re in our 30’s Joey why must you resort to childish ways when you don’t get your way?”

“Uhh have you not been with me since our diaper years? Did you just meet me? Just because we’re in our 30’s doesn’t mean we have to stop pretending to be an adult. I mean is there an age limit to when I have to behave an adult?”

I rolled my eyes at him and he grinned at me playfully nudging me with his shoulder.

“So c’mon out with it babe.”

“It’s…..better if you just look in the bathroom.”

“Why the bathroom?”

“Please Joey just….look on the counter and you’ll see.” He stood up and went to the bathroom. It was probably three seconds I heard the thundering of his feet racing back towards me.

His eyes were full blown wide and he was gaped in shock.

“You—you’re…..are you?”

“Yes.”

“Please tell me it’s Rami’s.”

“Of course it is dipshit who else have I been sleeping with for the past 10 years?”

“Okay, okay no need to get your pregnant hormones in a twist miss feisty pants.” He knelt back down in front of me and he continued, “But congrats I’m so happy for you two.” He hugged me and that’s when I said.

“But we can’t have it now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—Rami doesn’t deserve to have the stress of dealing with me being pregnant and dealing with the next two of the biggest award shows to come. You guys got the Golden globes in three days and then the Oscars in a few weeks. Rami’s already under a lot of stress as it is. Adding a baby into the mix it—I’m worried he won’t be able to take it. And our relationship will be over.”

“Hey, you listen to me sis alright. Rami loves you to pieces. He’s never wanted anything more than your approval and love. If he were to ever turn you away just because of this—then Gwil, Ben and I will freely beat the fucking shit out of him. And you know they’ll back me up.”

“Yeah cause you guys have got the weird love triangle going on.”

“It’s not my fault they both want me.” He teased. I scowled at him and he raised his hands up in defeat once more as he said, “Sorry, sorry getting off track. What I’m trying to say is that I believe Rami’s gonna still be right there with you. Hell he’s even talked to us on our guy nights out of how much he’s wanted to be a dad and have kids with you.”

“He’s said that?”

“If I’m lying I’m crying out velociraptor.” He gently wiped a tear away from my cheek and he said. “But you gotta talk to him. If word gets out to the press first and he finds out that way, it’ll completely blow this whole thing out of proportion.”

“Oh god I can’t even imagine what that would be like if someone found out and leaked it out to the media before I had told Rami. He’d think I was selling out our private life just for kicks.”

“So how about this; either before or after the Globes you tell him. And I can be your backup in case things get out of hand, which I know they won’t.” I hugged Joe and said as I buried my face into his shoulder.

“Thanks Joey, you’re the best non-blood twin a girl could ask for.”

“We may not be related by blood but I’ll always be there for you baby sister.”

“I was born one day after you.”

“Still makes you the baby out of the two of us.”

Soon enough within three days the Globes finally arrived. I was getting the final preparations of my makeup done when I felt arms wrap around my waist. I smiled and said.

“Hey you.”

“You look beautiful.” Rami said as he leaned his head against mine, his nose pressed to my temple.

“Well you look quite dapper yourself Mr. Malek.” I said as I straightened his tie. He smiled softly and kissed my temple.

“How did I ever get so lucky to have you?” he whispered.

“Believe me, if anyone’s lucky it’s me. Plus you can thank Joe for that.”

“Yeah but let’s not give him the satisfaction.” He teased. I playfully shoved him.

“So, you ready to go?”

“Yeah the car’s already downstairs waiting for us.” I grabbed my satchel bag and he held out his arm for me to take. I wrapped my arm through his and we headed towards the elevator and headed outside to the car.

The driver drove us onward to the Beverly Hilton and the second we arrived, there was already an audience, crowds of press and paparazzi, as well as hundreds of other actors, directors, film makers, etc.

“You ready babe?”

“Ready.” I exhaled. The second Rami stepped out, I could already hear the crowd cheering out my boyfriend’s name. He reached inside for my hand and I placed it in his and he helped me out. It was the usual from then on, pose for pictures, go to interviews and then meet up with Joe, Gwil, Ben, Lucy and Alan.

As the night went on the award show began and after a really bad joke said by one of the host’s about Freddie to which I lowered my head and prayed for forgiveness I began to feel a bit queasy.

So when they just went to commercial, I tried to drink some water but the urge to just vomit was too much.

“(Y/n)? Baby you okay?”

“I’ll be right back Rami.” I then raced as fast as I could towards the nearest restroom, I didn’t even care about shutting the door, I just collapsed to the ground and dove right over the toilet and puked as much as I could. “Oh god!” I groaned.

I spat a couple times before shakily getting back onto my feet. I flushed all that I had eaten down the drain and headed over to the sink. I rinsed my mouth out and cleaned my face up a bit. Taking a couple of deep breaths trying to calm myself down and that’s when I heard a knock and a voice I did not expect to hear.

“(Y/n)? Are you okay love?” oh shit it can’t be him. I took one final deep breath and peeked outside to see Brian May.

“Brian what are you—what are you doing here?”

“Well you raced out in such a hurry I got concerned.” See ever since filming, I’ve looked up to Brian as a sort of role model/father figure. See my parents went through a pretty nasty divorce and it really affected me.

Especially when my dad said that he wanted to have his freedom and not have to deal with me anymore. So when I heard my first Queen song, “Someday, one day” and heard Brian’s voice, it was an instant comfort to me.

And when Rami and Joe got involved with the movie and I actually got the chance to meet Brian and Roger, Brian was such a sweet man to me and we just sorta had that father-daughter connection kinda right away. Crazy right? But it happened.

“I’m—I’m fine Brian just…..probably had a sudden attack of the stomach flu I guess. Or probably had some bad soup.” He cupped my face and felt my forehead.

“You don’t seem to be running a fever. Are you sure you’re alright?” I strained out a smile and nodded.

“Yeah.” He looked at me skeptically.

“Okay well….if you’re sure. But if you need to go back to the hotel room, I can take you back.”

“Thanks Bri. I promise I’ll just—stay away from the soup. And thanks for coming to check on me Brian.”

“No problem love.” He said as he gingerly stroked my cheek. I smiled but suddenly felt the urge to puke again.

“Excuse me.” I immediately shut the door and went to the closest toilet and began dry heaving.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n) love are you sure you’re okay?” I spat and felt myself shuddering along the bathroom floor. I then heard the door open and in came Brian. I was about to rant at him telling him this was the ladies room but he cupped both sides of my face and just looked at me. “Alright, you can’t stay here. C’mon I’ll take you back to your hotel.”

“No, no, no. Rami’s award is about to come on. I have to be there for him!” I whined drowsily.

“He’ll understand. Your health is more important than some silly award show. Now come on, up we go.” He helped me stand up but thanks to my heels and wobbly legs, I nearly tripped over. “Here let’s get these things off.” He helped me get them off which decreased my size by 4in. and then we headed outside.

He rung up an uber and also texted Roger to tell Rami that I wasn’t feeling so good. When we piled in the uber, I shuddered suddenly feeling clammy and cold. I felt Brian’s overcoat being placed over me.

“Thank you.” I whispered out in a hoarse voice. He smiled softly and nodded.

When we got to the hotel, he helped me up to my room and got me situated into bed. He placed down some of Rami’s sweatpants and a t-shirt down beside me and he said.

“You can change into those once I leave.” I nodded as he stroked some hair out of my face. All was silent for a brief moment till he suddenly spoke, “So when will you tell him?” immediately I looked at him wide-eyed.

“You—you know?”

“I’ve had three kids in the past, and my ex-wife Chrissie had extremely bad morning sickness, especially when my girls were born. Sometimes she was sick all day.” I sighed. Guess I should’ve known better than to think I could hide this from him.

“I swear if morning sickness is like this I never want to have another kid after this.” He softly chuckled.

“But I’d say congratulations are in order.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” I muttered.

“Joe did mention this to me the other day.”

“He told you!?” I exclaimed.

“I sorta made him tell me. I’ve been noticing something off about you since yesterday. So don’t immediately blame him.” I shook my head as I buried it into my pillow.

“But how am I gonna tell him? Is he ready for such a responsibility? Am I? I don’t think I’m ready to be a mom.”

“Hey, listen to me love. You are ready. You’re smart, caring, beautiful, and have such a kind heart. I mean you’ve already had practice with Joe right?” I snorted out a laugh, remembering all the stories I told of me and Joey growing up together.

“In a way. But I know Joey won’t die if I make a mistake.”

“You’re not going to kill your baby. You already have that maternal instincts about you. I can’t put me finger on it but I just knew from day one that if you and Rami ever made it that far, you’d both make the best parents. Like Deacy and Veronica.”

“You really think so?”

“Absolutely.” He said as he stroked my cheek.

“Why couldn’t you have been my real dad?” he softly laughed and said as he stroked my cheek with his thumb.

“Believe me I wouldn’t mind having another daughter like you. But I’m happy being a surrogate father to you.” He added softly as he kissed my forehead. His hand migrated from my cheek to my hair and with the gentle pets, it made me feel more relaxed. “Want me to turn on the telly to the awards so that you can still see him win?”

I nodded and he graciously turned on the TV and switched it to the golden globes. It was on a commercial break right now and that’s when Brian went up and walked towards the kitchen and I heard the fridge open then shut.

“Here, drink this.” He came back holding a water bottle in his hands.

“I’d feel more happy with a ginger ale.”

“I know you would, but right now you need to get hydrated. Plus sugar drinks are good during morning sicknesses.”

“What if I end up upchucking the water?”

“Then just take little sips.” He held the water out to me and I took it. I unscrewed the cap and gently took a small sip just like Brian suggested and he placed a trashcan by my bedside just in case I did puke so that way I wouldn’t risk running to the bathroom and not making it.

The show came back on and they were just about to announce Best leading actor. I waited with baited-breath as Brian lay beside me as all the actors names were spoken aloud.

“C’mon baby, c’mon.” I muttered.

“And the Golden globe goes to…..” Julianne Moore spoke as she opened up the envelope. “Rami Malek.” At that I was crying tears of joy. Rami stood up and hugged Graham King the producer then Roger and Anita before going up on stage.

“God I wish I was there with him.”

“He knows you’re giving your love and support right now love.” Brian assured me. As Rami gave his speech, I wiped away the tears pouring down my face and I blew a kiss right at him even though I knew he couldn’t see it.

As the night went on, soon coming into the room was Rami with his Golden globe in hand.

“And there he is, first time Golden globe winner.” Brian praised.

“Thanks Brian.” He said as he set it down and the two men of my life hugged each other. When he finally looked towards me, I smiled up at him and I said.

“Congrats baby. You deserved it.”

“Yeah, how you feeling?” he asked me fully concerned as he came and sat down beside me.

“A bit better. Bri’s been taking care of me.” He thanked the rock legend again who merely waved it off modestly.

“It was no trouble. I’ll leave her to you now. It’s getting pretty late and I better head back home. Sleep well you two, and well done again Rami.”

“Thanks Brian, drive safe.” Brian bid us a final farewell before leaving our hotel room. He turned back towards me and he said, “Ready to get out of that dress?”

“Bout damn time too. This thing is so not comfortable to even lay in.” I sat up and he helped unzipped it and slowly removed the strap, but not before sneaking in a few quick yet seductive kisses along my shoulder. I moaned.

“Rami.”

“Alright love, dress first. Fool around later.” I playfully rolled my eyes at him and he helped me out of the dress and grabbed the sweatpants and t-shirt Brian had set down for me. Afterwards he lay down beside me and allowed me to rest my head on his chest.

“All that’s left is the Oscars.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” I looked up at him and he smiled down at me before capturing my lips with his.

Thank god I had rinsed my mouth out with mouthwash an hour ago, he slowly rolled me onto my back so that he was now hovering over me. His tongue dancing with mine as I felt him tuck his hand underneath my—well his shirt and touch my stomach. My eyes opened up suddenly and I separated from the kiss.

“Rami wait. Wait stop.” His eyes that were once filled with lust, now turned concerned as he said.

“What is it? Are you sick again?”

“No, no but—I……” I trailed off and turned away from him. He lay down in front of me so that I could look at him.

“Hey, whatever it is you can tell me. What’s going on in that big brain of yours?”

“You—you know how I said that I might’ve had food poisoning earlier tonight?” he nodded. “Well I lied…..I’ve….actually known what it was for three days now.”

“What is it? You…..you’re not dying are you?” he choked out the word dying heartbrokenly.

“No, no it’s nothing like that. I…..I’m pregnant.” His face gaped like a fish and his eyes seemed to grow wider.

“Y—you’re…..”

“I understand if you’re not ready. I can just….we can just break it off if you want. I’ll be able to take it.” I began to ramble on until I felt Rami cup my face in his hands and he said.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa baby girl slow down. Who—what made you think I’d ever break up with you because of this?”

“You’re—you’re finally getting the recognition you deserve. All these award shows, the premiere we went to back in London in November. The last season for Mr. Robot and your James Bon role opportunity, I just—feared that with how you’re life is going you—wouldn’t have time for a baby. Or me.”

“(Y/n)…..that is far from the truth. Listen to me; the day I first met you all the way back during The Pacific, I knew from the moment I saw you, you were the one for me. You were the love of my life, and I never wanted to spend it with anyone else. And now you’ve…..” he placed his hand to my stomach and continued, “Now you’ve given me something extra special. A little portion of myself and a big portion from you.”

“I think the baby will look like you more.” I chuckled softly. He softly laughed and said.

“Now, I believe she will be as beautiful as her mother.”

“She?”

“It could happen.” I shook my head at him.

“So you—really want to be a dad?”

“Yeah of course. I love kids. And I want them with you. I know we’re gonna make some mistakes, but I believe we can make it work. We have practiced with Joe before.” I shook my head at him again.

“He’d be so pissed if he finds out we’ve been comparing him to a child.”

“C’mon his literally the definition of man-child.”

“I won’t deny that.” He pulled me close and I felt him kiss my forehead, down my nose giving it a teasing peck before gently kissing me on the lips. “I love you Rami Malek.”

“I love you (y/n) (l/n). Both of you.” He spoke softly as he placed his hand right over my stomach once again.

Baby reveal/proposal:

After all the award shows were over and 4 months had passed, Rami and I were putting the final touches to the baby reveal party that we were hosting at his mom’s place.

We invited the entire cast of BoRhap, and we’d have Brian, Roger and Adam on facetime to be apart of the experience since we wanted to time the reveal for them.

“Everything all set?” I asked.

“Yep, Sami and mom are finishing up the baseball smoke.” Said Rami.

“Great. Joe just texted me he’s on their way from picking up Lucy, Alan, Gwil and Ben at the airport. Should be here in about 40-45min.”

“Good thing I asked Joe to bring in his Yankee jersey.”

“You know if the powder damages his jersey he’ll kill you, right?”

“If he does then I know you’ll give the position of godfather to the other two.” I chuckled and wrapped my arms around him and the two of us kissed. He then as always, knelt down and kissed my stomach and talked to my stomach. “Hello my beautiful princess.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, it’s gonna be a mini-you. A mini-Egyptian prince.”

“No it’ll be a sweet princess just like her mommy. Isn’t that right Cleo?” I rolled my eyes at him and pulled him back up and we kissed each other once again before he wrapped an arm around my waist and we walked off to finish prepping the backyard.

By the time everyone arrived, the party started to get into full swing. I was with Rami about the position of godfather when he looked down at his phone to see that it was time.

“Honey, its time.” I then took out the I-Pad and called up Brian on facetime. While he gathered everyone, I waited for him, Rog and Adam to appear on screen. When it finally answered al three of them appeared on screen.

“Hey there she is!” exclaimed Adam.

“Hey Adam, Rog, Brian. Hope I didn’t catch you three at a bad time.”

“Actually you’re right on time. We just got done with the show in Montreal.” Said Roger.

“Ahh that’s good. Okay so you guys ready?” they nodded. “Okay hey Gwil can you take the I-Pad so that Queen and Adam can see the show?

“Yeah I’ve got you.” He took the I-pad and I stood with Rami at the center of everyone.

“Okay first of all we’d like to say thank you to all who’ve taken the time to come here, and to those who are far away to see this magical moment.” Rami said.

“So the way we’re gonna do this is an alternate way to the football reveal.” I held up the baseball and said, “Joe may you please step forward?”

“You bet I will.” He exclaimed excitedly as Sami handed him a bat.

“Now we’d like for our former athlete Ben to step up.” Said Rami. Ben set his beer down and I handed him the baseball. “Inside this baseball lies the gender reveal for our baby. Ben pitch the ball to Joe.”

“I think I’d be better if Ben Cardy was here. He can pitch a better ball than this guy.” Joe teased.

“Haha very funny Joe.” Ben sassed. Rami and I stepped back and Ben and Joe stepped forward. Joe was already in pitcher position with the bat ready. If I didn’t know any better I’d say he was channeling his inner Pat Murray.

“Just don’t strike out Joey otherwise this’ll be a waste of time.” I teased him.

“Shut it baby twin!” Joey exclaimed. Ben tossed the ball up and down a few times before finally making the pitch. Joey then hit the ball with the bat and soon exploding was blue smoke.

“IT’S A BOY!!!” I exclaimed which made everyone cheer. Rami hugged his mom and brother while I hugged his mom and sister. Joe who was covered in blue smoke at this point, took off his Yankees hat and tried to pat the powder away.

“Rami owes me a new jersey.”

“I’ll get you one for your birthday. Thanks for helping us out Joey.”

“Anytime sis. And congrats on the little guy in there.” He said placing his hands on my stomach. “Hope you know this means I’m teaching him everything I know about baseball and taking him to every Yankees game.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, especially since you’re the official godfather.” He looked at my flabbergasted.

“Are—you serious?”

“Yeah I mean—we’ve known each other since we were in diapers, who better to take care of my son than you. Maybe he can help you grow up too.” He suddenly hugged me tightly and spun me around.

“Hey Joe might wanna set my love down before you put her in a very early premature birth.” We heard Rami say. He set me down and began apologizing profusely but I waved it off telling him it was alright. “I also have another announcement to make.” Rami proclaimed.

At this rate I was confused. I turned to Joe who was merely grinning at me and gently pushed me towards Rami. He came up to me and took my hand and he said.

“(Y/n); it—it feels like an eternity ago when the two of us first met. But I—I knew from the moment I first met you, that I wanted no one else. You’ve stuck by me through thick and thin, and you’re the love of my life.” He then got down on one knee and took out from his pocket a black velvet ring box.

I covered my mouth as he opened up the box to reveal a beautiful large diamond engagement ring.

“Rami…..” he looked at me expectantly. I felt tears form in my eyes and I couldn’t help but say Lucy’s quote from the movie from when Freddie had proposed to Mary. “Which finger do I put this on?” he chuckled softly.

“Wedding finger. Will you marry me?” I nodded. He shuddered but then gestured for me to verbally say it much like he did in the movie.

“Yes!” He smiled and stood up and captured my lips with his as our friends and family cheered. After we separated, Rami teased.

“Are you going to leave it in the box?” I giggled and took it out and placed it on my left ring finger.

“Oh Rami it’s beautiful. I love it.” He took my hand and cupped his fingers around the ring as he said.

“Promise me you won’t take it off.”

“I promise.”

“No matter what.”

“I love you Rami, you’re going to do such great things.”

“We’re going to do great things. Starting with this little guy in five months.”

“So do I get bragging rights for being right?”

“Yes, I’ll gladly take the heat. Little traitor.” He muttered the last part towards my stomach. I playfully shoved him and that’s when Gwil came up with the I-pad.

“Alright girl let me get a close up look of that ring!” Adam proclaimed. I giggled and showed my hand up to the screen. “Ohh yas girl you’ve got a rock! Perfect fitting for a queen such as yourself.”

“Thanks Adam. And thank you guys for be a part of this.” I said.

“You both deserve it. Congrats on the baby and keep us updated.” Brian said to me.

“I will.”

“And Rami, you better look after this girl for me. As her surrogate father I have the right to beat your arse if you fuck this up.”

“Brian!” I yelled at him embarrassedly. Rami chuckled and said.

“No worries Brian. I’ve taken care of this girl for over 11 years, I wouldn’t dream of letting her go this time around.”

“You better, because Bri won’t be the only one ready to beat someone if things blow up to hell.” Said Roger.

“Make that three.” Stated Adam.

“Oh my god you three are awful!” I exclaimed which caused all of them to laugh softly. “Okay we’ll let you three go. We’ll see you all when you’re come to Madison Square Garden.”

“Sounds good to us love, I’ll make sure to send you some backstage passes.”

“Thanks Bri.” I blew them a kiss. “Bye guys, see you in 2 months.”

“See you then love.” They waved bye to me and I hung up on facetime. Rami and I smiled lovingly at each other and he leaned his forehead against mine.

“I love you so much. Both of you.”

“I love you too Rami. And our little guy loves you too. I bet he can’t wait to meet you.”

“I can’t wait to meet him either.”

The birth:

I was watching from behind the camera as Rami was reading “The Empty pot” as part of the Storyline online. Seeing him read this story, that was close to him when he was a child, made me think of all the future stories that he would tell our little boy in just three weeks’ time.

I smiled as I felt a gently kick to my lower abdomen. As he continued to read on, I got so many visions of seeing Rami read to our son every night before bedtime. He just had that warm voice that fit the perfect storyteller.

By the end of it all, he came up to me and we gently kissed each other.

“Did our little man enjoy story time?” he asked me as he placed his hands on my stomach. At his statement he felt a kick, we both chuckled and I said.

“He wouldn’t stop kicking throughout the entire time his daddy was reading the story.”

“Well I’ll read a thousand stories if it’ll keep him happy.” I smiled and kissed his cheek and nuzzled against his shoulder.

That night as I was getting ready for bed in the bathroom. Removing my makeup and brushing my teeth, plus make one final trip to the toilet before finally settling down for the night. Rami already lying on his side of the bed, just stared at me as I opened the bathroom door.

“What?”

“How beautiful you are.” He praised. I smiled at him and walked over to the bed and he immediately sat up and gently wrapped his arm protectively around my stomach. “I love you both so much.”

“We love you too.” I felt him kiss my temple, down to my cheek, quickly pecked my shoulder before finally placing a kiss to my stomach. He then nuzzled his head at the junction where my neck met my shoulder and soon the two of us fell asleep.

As the night went on, I began feeling this sudden surge of pain plus a wetness between my legs. At first I thought I might’ve had an accident but when I became ware of the sudden pain that hit me like a hammer to the head, I groaned.

“Rami……Rami wake up!” he groaned but sat up and he said.

“What is it?”

“I—I think my water just broke.” He quickly turned on the lights and he said.

“Are-are-are-are you sure?” I then let out a scream of agony and said.

“Oh yeah definitely contractions! Oh god AHHHHH!!!!”

“Okay, okay relax calm down okay. I’ll go get the bag and I’ll get us to the hospital. Just do your breathing exercises that we learned okay?” He helped me up and I began to breathe while he quickly put on a shirt and some sweats as well as grabbing the bag from the closet. “Aren’t you glad I convinced you to pack a bag early?”

“Not the time Rami!” I snapped.

“Right, right sorry. Come on love it’ll be okay.” We went out to the car and Rami drove us straight to the hospital while he got in touch with his mom as well as Joe.

After what felt like hours of pure torture, we finally arrived at the hospital and thankfully Joe was already there to help out.

“How you doing?” he asked me. I glared at him and he said. “Right bad question.”

“Mrs. (Y/n) Malek?” a nurse came in.

“We’re here.”

“Okay well you weren’t supposed to be in till another three weeks.”

“Well the baby decided on now. And I’m pretty sure he gets to choose!” I growled out.

“Okay well we have our private delivery room all set up and arranged, we can take you there now.” Another nurse came in with a wheelchair and both Joe and Rami helped me into the chair and I was wheeled out.

God never did I have to go through anything so agonizing. I don’t know who the fuck to blame for women suffering during labor but whoever it is, damn you bitch to hell and back. I even demanded that Rami never seduce me into having sex ever again after this. But in the end it all payed off.

For after 10hrs of labor, in my arms I now held my son. Our son.

Rami and I were in the recovery room just looking down at our precious 7lb. 12 oz. 22in long baby boy.

“I can’t believe he’s finally here.”

“I know. I told you, resembled his father to a T. Our little prince.”

“But we—never got to pick out a name.”

“Actually I did, during the Oscars. There was only one name that I wanted to name our son if we ended up having a boy, to which we did.”

“What is it?” I looked up at him and I said.

“How do you feel about Freddie Mercury Malek?” he was stunned. He looked down at our boy before looking back up to me.

“That’s perfect. I—I think he would’ve loved that.”

“I believe so too. I wish we could’ve gotten the chance to meet him face to face.”

“You and me both my love.” We then heard a knock at the door and that’s when Joe peeked in.

“Hey hope this isn’t a bad time but, the guys want to facetime us.” Rami gestured for him to come in and that’s when Joe answered his phone and I heard Gwil and Ben’s voice saying hello.

“Joe told us you had gone into labor (n/n), how you doing?” asked Gwil.

“Exhausted but I’ll be better soon. Hope we didn’t interrupt you guys at a bad time.”

“Not at all (y/n), we were just having a little vacation together.” Ben said.

“To which by the way I am not jealous of you two right now.” Joe pointed out.

“Sure.” Dragged out Ben.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night Joe.” Mocked Gwil. I rolled my eyes playfully at them. God those three and their bizarre love triangle.

“Alright you three, no arguing in front of the baby.” Rami lectured.

“Yes Joe show us our little nephew.” Gwilym stated. He then adjusted his phone so that the rest of the “band” could see the newest addition of the family.

“Aww my god!” cooed Ben.

“Ohh he’s so beautiful.” Awed Gwil.

“Have you guys picked a name yet?” asked Joey.

“Well this lovely lady has had a name at the ready since the beginning.” Rami said, “Guys, we’d like you to meet our son. Freddie Mercury Malek.” At hearing our son’s name, the guys went quiet for a moment.

“It suits him.” Ben finally spoke after the long silence.

“I agree, hello little Freddie.” Gwil added.

“The perfect name fitting the perfect newborn.” Said Joe.

“Well we’ll leave you to rest. Congrats mate, you too (y/n). Get some well deserve rest.” Gwil told me.

“Will do, thanks for checking up on me guys.”

“Hey you’re engaged to Rami and you’ve dealt with Joe your whole life. That makes you apart of the band as anyone else.” Said Ben. We waved goodbye and when Joe placed his phone back in his jacket he kissed the top of my head.

“I’ll go see get your mom and sister. Let them know their grandson/nephew has finally entered the world.”

“Hey Joey before you leave, can you grab me my phone it should be in the bag.”

“Sure thing.” He took my phone out of the bag and he handed me my phone. As I opened my contacts, he and Rami gave each other a brotherly hug and he stroked my son’s head before placing a gentle kiss on top of his godson’s head. “I can’t wait till you’re big enough to catch a baseball champ. You’ll be just like your god papa Joey in no time.”

“So by that you mean totally sucks at pitching and can’t quite throw properly under pressure?” I teased. He looked up at me with that bitch face of his.

“You are so lucky you just gave birth otherwise you’d be dead right now.” I stuck my tongue at him playfully and he went ahead and walked out.

“So who are you calling?”

“It’s a long shot but I’m gonna see if I can reach him.” I pressed facetime under Brian’s name. Rami took our son while I held my phone as it showed my picture. It rang for what felt like forever till finally I got an answer from the man himself.

“Hey love.”

“Hey sorry did I wake you up?”

“Just about to fall asleep after performing in Japan.”

“Oh god I’m sorry Brian I can call back later.”

“No, no it’s fine. Is everything okay?”

“Well I just wanted you to meet someone.” I then pointed my phone at Rami and hit the switch button and as soon as he saw him holding our baby, he gasped.

“Oh my god—you….you had the baby already?”

“Yeah.”

“10 hours in labor later and this gorgeous boy has finally entered the world.” Rami said.

“You’re right he is mighty handsome. But I can see that it looks like he had his mum’s nose.” I chuckled softly and I said.

“His name is Freddie Mercury Malek.” I switched the phone back towards me and after a moment of silence he answered.

“God what Fred would’ve said. He’d be floored about this, but definitely in the positive way.” I smiled at him. “My congratulations to you both, how you feeling love?”

“Tired, a bit achy but I’m just happy to have my son here at last.”

“I tell you there’s nothing greater than getting the chance to hold your baby for the first time. Treasure it while it lasts, both of you. Because before you know it they’ll be grown up and running their own company.”

“We will Brian.” Said Rami.

“I’ll let you get back to sleep, again sorry to wake you up so late.”

“Don’t worry about it. This was a good thing to be woken up too. Take care of yourselves and that boy of yours.” We smiled and bid Brian goodbye and he waved goodbye to us. I set my phone down and Rami handed me our little Freddie.

“You know, this whole year has been crazy. Since the movie I’ve won practically every award for best actor for Freddie Mercury. But you—you’ve given me the greatest prize of all. Not only your answer of starting the next step in our relationship, but our child as well. Thank you for being and giving me my greatest award ever (y/n).”

“I could say the same to you Rami.” We kissed each other and just admired our child, born out of pure love and named after the most beloved man of all time.

183 notes · View notes

bangtan-sonyeonddaeng · 5 years

Text

BTS Reaction: Their crush's boyfriend forgets their name and speaks badly of them behind their back

Namjoon

Namjoon was taking a break from the studio and was walking around the city when he noticed your boyfriend walking in front of him with a friend. He immediately tensed up. It was because he thought your boyfriend was an absolute ass who didn't deserve you. Every time he saw you two together he could see how fake he was with you, and it hurt him to see you smile at him so genuinely. He has liked for a long time but never made a move because he didn't want to interfere with your relationship. The conversation your boyfriend was having with his friend was further proof to Namjoon that this sorry excuse for a man didn't deserve you. "Man why are you still with that girl anyway? You could do so much better she's so boring." He hoped your boyfriend would defend you but that wasn't the case. "I don't know. Honestly she's just a place holder. I plan on dumping her as soon as I convince my ex to forgive me and take me back." That did it. Namjoon sped up his walking until he was standing directly in front of your boyfriend. "Hey you're that guy what's her face is friends with right?" "Are you fucking kidding me. You don't even remember her name? You don't deserve her at all. You're lucky I don't believe in violence or you'd be a bloody fucking mess on the floor." "Hey seriously, back off my relationship with y/n is none of your business". At that Namjoon grabs him by his shirt collar and glares at him menacingly. "Alright listen you absolutely trash of a human. You better leave y/n before she gets in too deep with you. She's not a place holder. She's an absolute angel and if you can't treat her as such you need to walk away. Now." Your boyfriend scoffs at him. "Tch. Yeah? What're you going to do about it?" Namjoon's expression darkens and your boyfriend is actually intimidated by him at this point. "I'm an idol. Idols know people, have connections. I can absolutely destroy your life with one phone call. So I say again, and don't make me repeat myself. Leave. Her. Alone." Your boyfriend's eyes widen as he takes in his words “O-okay. Sorry. I’ll call her tonight and set things straight.” Namjoon smiles at him and pats his head as he walks away. He’s going to head to your apartment and make sure he’s there for you when he calls. He’s not going to make a move on you so soon after your breakup, but he’s going to make damn sure you know he’s always going to be there for you through anything.

Jin

Jin was appalled by the words that were coming out of your boyfriend's mouth. He had seen him at a restaurant while he was picking up lunch for the guys and for you. Your boyfriend was sat at a table looking awfully close to some girl that wasn't you. Jin hated your boyfriend. Not just because he had a massive crush on you but because he was the biggest moron and asshole on the face of the earth. He never understood why such a pure, sweet, innocent soul like yours would fall for such a piece of shit. "When are you going to leave that frumpy girlfriend of yours? What's her name?" Your boyfriend laughs. "I don't even remember does it matter? I plan on dumping her soon anyway she's so annoying. She gets on my nerves so much I don't even know why I asked her out probably because she was so desperate." Jin is fuming. He wants nothing more than to punch your boyfriend in the face as hard as he can. Instead he settles for telling him off in the loudest way possible. He walks up to the table and slams his hands on it startling the pair out of their conversation. "Oh it's you. Jun or Jan or whatever the hell your name is". "I could care less if you don't remember my name but after today you're never going to forget my face. I guarantee it. You don't even remember your own girlfriends name? The fuck? Were you dropped on your head as a child?" "No one asked for your opinion or for you to eaves drop on my conversation. Now fuck off and mind your own business". Jin walks around to where your boyfriend is sitting and gets right up in his face and jabs a finger into his chest. "I'm only going to say this once so you better fucking listen to me. I see you within 20 ft of y/n and you're going to regret it. Not only will I make your life a living hell but I'll chop you up into pieces and shove you into a blender and feed you to the sharks. No one will ever find your body. As an idol I have connections with people who can make that happen. Now repeat what I just said." Your boyfriend looks terrified as he takes in the sight of Jin's crazed expression. He really put on the theatrics. He’s never been more thankful for his university courses in acting. "I won't go near her. I promise you'll never see me or hear a peep from me again." Jin’s expression turns cheerful as he saunters off to collect the food he's ordered. He's going to tell you everything that happened today. He never hides things from you and he's not about to start now. He just hopes you aren't too angry with him, as he thinks he finally has gathered up the courage to confess to you. He wants to make sure no disrespectful scumbag ever touches you again.

Yoongi

Yoongi had taken you out to keep your mind off the fact that your absolute dick of a boyfriend had broken plans with you again. Yoongi loved you so much and it hurt him to see you constantly disappointed and let down when he knew you deserved so much better, when he knew he could treat you like the queen you were in his eyes. You two were sharing drinks and laughing when suddenly he saw your expression fall. Your boyfriend was here with his group of friends. "That asshole doesn't look very sick to me." You couldn't even disagree with him because he was right. He'd lied to you. With the alcohol in your veins suddenly boosting your confidence you decided to confront him. Yoongi following close behind you. When your boyfriend saw you he put on a smile. "Hey babe! I think I just might have had food poisoning but good news I'm feeling better. I was going to call you but I figured you would have already made plans." "I'm not stupid. I know you lied to me. If you don't want to be with me anymore just say so. So I can move on with my life." "But I do want to be with you...uhm." Yoongi had enough. You boyfriend forgetting your name when it was the first thing he thought of in the morning and the last before he went to sleep had his blood boiling. He grabbed your hand tightly and pulled you protectively behind him. "You're fucking joking right? You've been with her for two months and you don't even remember her name?! I outta beat you within an inch of your life, you fucker." "Yoongi stop.. Let's just go he's not worth it." He turns around and his expression softens as he looks at you. "Princess I'm sorry but I'm not going to let him step all over your heart any longer.” Your boyfriend gets very close to Yoongi’s personal space and you can tell Yoongi is about to snap. “I don’t like the fact that you have your hand on my girlfriend. And I really don’t like the fact that you just called her princess. She’s not yours. She never will be. You’re just a friend to her so quit trying to be a white knight it’s not going to work.” You boyfriend holds his hand out to you. “Let’s go.” You can see Yoongi’s visibly deflate at his words and at this point you’ve had enough. Your boyfriend can say rude things to you all he wants but he’s not going to talk shit to Yoongi. “No. I’m not going anywhere with you. We’re done.” “You can’t be serious.” “I am 100% serious. I’m not going anywhere with you. Yoongi was right you are an asshole.” You turned around tugging Yoongi after you. You pause and look back at your now ex-boyfriend, “And by the way if Yoongi wants me to be his I’d accept his confession in a heartbeat. Because he treats me how I deserve be treated, like a queen.” You don’t make it all the way out of the bar before Yoongi grabs you and kisses you passionately, putting every emotion he has for you into the kiss. As he’s kissing you he glances out of the corner of his eye to see your ex staring at the two of you, and he doesn’t hesitate to flip him off as he grabs your hips and pulls you closer to him.

Hoseok

Hoseok hates seeing you so sad. Yet again your jerk of a boyfriend left you showing up in tears at Hoseok’s apartment. “Oh honey what happened? What did he do now?” Hoseok immediately lifted you into his arms and gently set you down on the couch next to him. He held you close as you cried into his shoulder. He rubs your arm and kisses the top of your head as he tries to comfort you. Hoseok loves you, and to see you constantly hurt when he knows you would be so much happier with him breaks his heart. When your breathing slows and your sniffles calm down he gently asks you again what happened. “He pocket dialed me while he was with his friends. And I heard every awful thing he said about me. He couldn’t even remember my name and he was saying such horrible things about me.” Seeing Hoseok mad is a scary thing. He is usually so happy with you and to see his expression darken startles you. “What exactly did he say about you?” “That I’m annoying. That I was desperate for him and that’s the only reason he asked me out. Because he thought I would be an easy lay.” Your voice breaks off at the end as you start crying again. Hoseok pulls you into his chest and whispers sweet and loving words to you until you fall asleep in his arms. He picks you up and lays you down in his bedroom, tucking you in and placing a soft kiss to your forehead. His heart flutters when your hand reaches out to grab his wrist and you ask him to stay. “I’ll be right back angel, I promise.” He walks out of the room and immediately calls the company to get information on your now ex-boyfriend. He finds out his name, where he lives, and what is personal social media pages are. He logs into the BTS twitter account and posts links to all of this guy’s social media pages with a message. “Hey ARMY! It’s your hope. This awful man hurt my best friend badly. She has been crying nonstop for an hour and just cried herself to sleep. Maybe go send him some messages?” He knows within a minute the tweet will be deleted by the company but it doesn’t matter, he’s already accomplished what he wanted. He’s already seeing replies flood in under his tweet with army showing support for you and for Hoseok, and words of hatred towards your ex. Hoseok comes back into the room and crawls into bed with you. The way you move closer to him automatically seeking his warmth and comfort makes his heart soar. He pulls you close to him, making a silent promise to himself to confess to you once everything blows over.

Jimin

Jimin is absolutely head over heels in love with you. But he never told you because you were in a relationship. He absolutely hated your boyfriend. He treated you terribly and yet you still stayed with him. Jimin would take a bullet for you, he cared about you so much and thought you were the most amazing girl in the world. He made up his mind that he was going to confess to you. He was tired of seeing your heart broken by this man when he knew you would be so much happier with him. He was on his way to your apartment and he overheard you two fighting from the hallway. The front door was cracked open so he peeked inside to make sure you were okay. Both of you had your back turned to him as he overheard what you two were fighting about. “I heard you talking shit about me to your friends. You really think I wouldn’t find out? You think I’m desperate? You think I’m annoying? That I’m too clingy? Does that ring a bell?” Jimin tenses up as he hears this. How dare your boyfriend say such terrible things about his precious angel. “Listen uhm..” Your boyfriend said a name that wasn’t yours and you had it. “Get out of here. Now. We’re done.” Your ex goes to grab at you and Jimin can’t take it anymore. He shoves the door open and grabs your ex by his shirt and throws him away from you. Jimin holds an arm out protectively to keep you behind him. “You lay one fucking hand on her and I’ll break every bone in your goddamn body you hear me?” In all the years you had known Jimin you have never seen him mad, it was terrifying. You didn’t doubt that if you weren’t there he might actually make good on his word. “Whatever. I don’t need some chick like her anyway. I got girls lining up to wait to be with me.” He storms out of your apartment and slams the door. Suddenly Jimin’s gentle expression returns as he cups your face in his hands and kisses your tears away. “I’m sorry he said those awful things to you angel. But you know they aren’t true right? You’re not clingy, you’re affectionate and I love that. You aren’t annoying, you are way too precious and the world doesn’t deserve you but it needs you.” “Jimin... Thank you. For everything. I don’t know what would have happened if you wouldn’t have shown up.” He pulls you close to him and kisses your forehead. “Y/n I don’t want to rush anything, but just know that I love you. I’ll wait until you’re ready but I would love it if you gave me chance to show you how a man is supposed to treat his lady.” You can’t help but smile at him. “I would love that.”

Taehyung

Over the past few months Taehyung was finding it harder and harder to hide his feelings for you. He was becoming more physically affectionate with you, letting his touches linger a little bit longer. Kissing you closer to the corner of your mouth then your cheek or forehead like he usually does. You suspected that he liked you, and to be honest you liked him too. But you didn’t want to cheat on your boyfriend and you didn’t want to hurt him. Taehyung had voiced his disapproval of your boyfriend on multiple occasions. He treated you horribly and he hated seeing you waste your tears on someone who didn’t deserve them. One day you and Taehyung were out walking together as he took pictures around the city. You never noticed but when you weren’t looking he always took photos of you. He thought you were the most beautiful he had ever seen. When you stopped at a park to take pictures of the scenery there you noticed your boyfriend sitting on a bench flirting with some girl. Taehyung already started making a beeline for him but you grabbed his hand and held a finger to your lips to signal you wanted to overhear their conversation. “Come on. I told you I was going to break up with her soon don’t be mad at me.” “How do I know you are actually going to leave her?” “Because I don’t have any feelings for her. At all. Shit I can’t even remember her name because yours is the only one I’m thinking of.” You wanted to gag. Taehyung however had boiled over and he wasn’t about to stay quiet anymore. “Her name is y/n you absolute idiot. God you really don’t deserve her you know that? She is more precious than anything or anyone on this planet and you treat her like dirt. If I wasn’t an idol I would bash you over the head with my camera right now.” Your now ex looks at him terrified. “Uh! I didn’t.. I mean. Shit.” You finally decide to speak up. “You know what? Thank you. I am so glad I overheard this conversation because now I don’t have to waste my time with you anymore and I can be in a real relationship with someone that I love and who takes care of me. Someone who has always taken care of me. Someone who has always been there for me. Someone who makes me laugh when I am upset, someone who has held me as I was crying because of the things you’ve said and done.” Taehyung looks over at you as he hopes that you are talking about him. You look right at him as you continue speaking. “Someone who looks at me like I am their entire world and someone I look at the same way. A certain man, with shockingly bright blue hair and boxy smile that could light up the world.” Taehyung has heard enough. He immediately grabs your hips and pulls you into him as he kisses you passionately. You two completely forget about your ex, you two are in your own little world. Taehyung pulls away and murmurs against your lips. “You have no idea how long I have been wanting to do that. How long I have waited to hear those words out of your mouth. I love you, y/n.” “I love you too Tae.”

Jungkook

“I hate your boyfriend y/n.” You knew something was bothering Jungkook but he wouldn’t tell you. He just kept sulking on your couch while you tried to watch a movie together. “What? Why?” “What do you mean why? He’s an asshole and he treats you like shit and you should break up with him.” You furrow your eye brows at him. “What are you talking about Jungkook?” A few days ago Jungkook had been out shopping at the store when he spotted your boyfriend out with his friends. When he heard his friends mention your name his ears immediately perked up and he listened in on their conversation. Your boyfriend couldn’t remember your name, but his friends did. And he was saying such hurtful and untrue things about you. He didn’t say anything to you because he didn’t want to interfere with your relationship but he felt terrible for keeping this from you. Hence why had been sulking and partially avoiding you for 3 days. “Promise you won’t get mad at me?” “I could never get mad at you Kookie you know that.” He tells you everything. About how he overheard your boyfriend, how he couldn’t even remember your name, how when his friends started speaking badly of you instead of defending you he joined in. You just stared at him and didn’t say anything. “I knew you were going to get angry with me. I’m sorry I kept it from you y/n I really am. I’ll leave now if you want.” “No! I mean.. no I’m not mad, you don’t need to leave. Please stay Kookie.” He wraps his arms around you and hugs you close to him. You feel like you should be sad but you aren’t. Are you hurt by his words? Absolutely. But for a while now you’ve known that you and your boyfriend weren’t going to work out in the long term. Not with a certain doe-eyed man with a bunny smile constantly on your mind. “Are you going to be okay?” “Yeah Jungkook I’ll be just fine. Guess I better call him and let him know we’re over huh?” “Yeah.. or you could just ignore him. Not like he’ll care I’m sure he’ll take the hint.” A mischievous smirk spreads across your face as you think of a way to not only confess to Jungkook but piss your ex off in the process. “Yeah we could do that. Or I have a better idea. Come take a selfie with me Kook.” “What? Why?” “Don’t question me! Just come here.” He moves closer to you and you press your faces together. “Kiss my cheek.” He starts blushing furiously up to his ears. “What?!” “Kiss my cheek Jungkook. Just trust me okay?!” He presses his lips to your cheek and right before you snap the picture you turn your head and kiss him square on the lips. He jumps in surprise and pulls away but you were able to get the photo you wanted. You sent it to your now ex and sent it with a caption that said That’s okay. I don’t remember your name either. The only name I am going to be remembering from now on is Jungkook. You turn to Jungkook after you send the photo and find him still frozen in place. “You okay Kookie?” Your voice snaps him out of his daze. “What the hell was that?!” “Well, I broke up with him and confessed to you. Killed two birds with one stone as they say.” “Wait you like me?” “Of course. I thought it was obvious. Why do you think I’m not upset that I am now single?” “No you’re not.” “What?” “You’re not single. Because I like you too. I want you to be my girlfriend.” You agree without hesitation and pull him in for a sweet kiss.

486 notes · View notes

coolgreatwebsite · 5 years

Text

Cool Games I Finished In 2019 (In No Real Order)

We’re here. The end of the decade. 2019 was a weird, turbulent year for me. Despite my cross-country move already being a year behind me somehow, nothing’s really settled yet. Living situation is still weird, still separated from most of my belongings, I left my full-time QA job for a contractor position at a mobile game advertising company that may or may not convert into a full-time position... everything about what’s going on with me still just feels like I’m completely winging it, and while that’s not a position I’m really comfortable being in for such an extended amount of time, everything seems to be working out okay enough despite it. All this is probably why I spent most of my time playing the shit out of a handful of games rather than playing a bunch of different games this year! Needed some sort of stability. Also when I did manage to pull myself away from the timesink games and play something else, a lot of them ranged from “okay” to “real bad”. But I still managed to play just enough stuff that I liked to where I can put out yet another one of these. Here’s a bunch of cool games I experienced for the first time in 2019.

Phantasy Star Online: Blue Burst (PC, 2005)

I haven’t bothered to do two thirds of the story quests yet and have barely touched any Episode 4 content so this game technically doesn’t count for this list, but if I left it off I would be neglecting to mention an extremely large portion of my video game playing time this year. I fell back into PSO preeeettty hard this year after the surprise announcement of Phantasy Star Online 2 finally coming to the US. Guess what: game still rules. It feels stiff to play and it’s obviously far less expansive than it seemed back in 2000, but the core of Phantasy Star Online is still as fun as it ever was and the aesthetics are still entirely my shit. I love everything about the way this game looks and sounds, I love stumbling on a weird new weapon, I love participating in the custom seasonal events the server I’m on runs, and I love how oddly relaxing the experience of playing this game and taking it all in is. I will probably continue to play Phantasy Star Online into 2020. I will probably still dip back into it after PSO2 US servers finally launch. If I know you and you want to join my Discord server for PSO get at me. PSO forever.

Cookie’s Bustle (PC, 1999)

You ever play a game that just speaks to you? Even through a language barrier? A game so incredibly out there and bizarre in the exact way you love that you can’t help but adore it despite barely understanding it? Holy moly did I ever find that game. I learned about Cookie’s Bustle through a news story last year about some rare games leaking from a Japanese collector’s stash. Didn’t manage to get it to run back then, but my off and on attempts to get it working finally paid off in March of this year and I’m so glad I kept trying. I knew nothing of this game other than it had a weird name and was about a bear doing sports, and it turned out to be a fully voice-acted and mostly unsubtitled adventure game starring Cookie Blair, a 5 year old girl from New Jersey who sees herself as a teddy bear and has traveled to Bombo World, an island nation once visited by aliens and currently in the middle of a civil war, to participate in the Bombo Sports Tournament. Dead level, I probably shouldn’t have been able to genuinely love Cookie’s Bustle as much as I did. The only context I had for what was happening and what I was supposed to do was provided by a 20-year-old Google translated walkthrough with broken images, the game’s slightly higher than usual reliance on English loan words, and 30-ish years of video games and anime allowing me to halfway pick up on a handful of Japanese words. However, Cookie’s Bustle is dripping with an undeniable and off-beat charm that genuinely transcends language. Even if you can’t understand the words and specifics, you can understand the basic plot, characterizations, and emotions they’re going for. Cookie’s Bustle manages to both be completely off-the-wall bizarre and feel totally genuine and heartfelt at the same time, a balance very few games manage to successfully hit but many of my favorites do. One could say that’s why it seems to have resonated with a decent amount of other people this year, too. Games rarely make me feel sad that they’re over. but when they do that’s how I know they’re one of the good ones. Seriously, go look up a longplay or stream of Cookie’s Bustle if you (understandably) don’t want to go through the hassle of setting it up and figuring out how to play it, it’s impossible not to love.

Devil May Cry 5 (PlayStation 4, 2019)

Here’s something crazy to think about: Devil May Cry 4 came out 11 years ago. Aside from being a potent reminder that time is moving too fast and we’re all going to die soon, that means that there hasn’t been a DMC for over a decade. Devil May Cry 5 does not bare this fact even a little bit. Not only did they pick up right where they left off and manage to make another Devil May Cry game without missing a beat, they made arguably the best Devil May Cry game. I mean I still like the story and single-character focus of DMC3 the best, but DMC5 is the best playing game in the series without a doubt. Nero finally feels like he has a complete and complex toolset, Dante is the most mechanically dense and fun to play he’s ever been, and they even added a new guy that’s... neat to play as, until you start trying to S-rank the harder difficulties. Then he’s kind of annoying to play as. But it’s still cool that they tried something totally different and mostly got it to work! They also did something very stupid that I love and used this game as an excuse to make literally every single piece of Devil May Cry media canon. Like, characters exclusively from the anime and the books show up and act like they’re someone you already know and love? And they go out of their way to explain the most esoteric lore shit possible?? And despite it all they still intentionally give DMC2 as short a shrift as they can??? It’s so dumb, it rules. It’s just one of the many things about the game that show that even with so long of a gap between entries, no love for the series was lost by the people that make it. I don’t think the suits at Capcom expected this game to hit as hard as it did though, because despite there being clear areas where the game could be expanded on with DLC there still hasn’t been anything announced. I hope they’re maybe saving it for some sort of DMC3-esque special edition, or maybe just already working on DMC6, because even after getting all S-ranks I still wanted to play more. The game’s just that damn good.

Hypnospace Outlaw (PC, 2019)

I expected very little from Hypnospace Outlaw. I backed the game on Kickstarter solely because it looked cool and I thought a game about fake GeoCities was neat, and then I immediately forgot about it until it released. Admittedly my lack of expectations stemmed mostly from the fact that it’s kind of hard to set expectations for a game you never really thought too hard about, but even in the brief period of time where I considered it enough to give it money, I never expected it to be much more than a pretty-looking 101 Great GeoCities Jokez delivery vehicle. Boy was I wrong. I mean, it is incredibly good at that, but Hypnospace Outlaw is so much more than a funny period piece. The basic premise is that you’re in alternate universe 1999 and have just become a community moderator for an Internet service provider that allows people to connect to the Internet while they sleep. You’re tasked with browsing the game’s weird fake Internet and issuing demerits to users who violate the five basic Hypnospace rules, but it quickly evolves into something way bigger. Hypnospace Outlaw’s greatest strength is its exceptional ability at weaving together subtle world building, small and engaging character arcs, esoteric microjokes, and a genuine sense of mystery and discovery into an incredibly cohesive and engaging package. It’s as much a game about the people that use and run its weird fake Internet as it is about that weird fake Internet itself. And a lot of the problems both face echo the problems we face with our real world Internet today. When I was mapping out writing this article like a month or two ago I was prepared to go on about how at its core, Hypnospace Outlaw is an incredibly poignant story about how uncaring tech corporations actively harm their users and always have, but then a couple of days ago I read Colin Spacetwinks’ game of the year list and his #1 entry put most everything I would have said about that topic down in a way more eloquent and well-written way than I ever could have. And then I remembered that Friend Of The Site Heidi Kemps covered some of the same angle but from the perspective of the early Internet in an article earlier this year, again way better than I could have. So I highly recommend you read those when you’re done here. What I wanna bring up instead is just how effortlessly surprising and interconnected a lot of stuff in Hypnospace feels, using a mildly spoiler-ish late game example. Two of the first “zones” you’re allowed to moderate when you start Hypnospace Outlaw are Teentopia and Goodtime Valley, which are essentially alternate universe Yahooligans and a little slice of Hypnospace just for Boomers respectively. On Teentopia you’ll see a bunch of kids that are wild for Squisherz, Hypnospace’s alternate universe version of Pokémon, and over in Goodtime Valley you’ll see (much like there was back in real world 1999) a few pages made by religious fundamentalists convinced that everything the kids like these days is the work of Satan. This of course includes Squisherz, and you can find a page by one organization full of crackpot conspiracy theories with flimsy evidence that TOTALLY DEFINITELY backs up their claim. Squisherz contains a wolf, which the Bible warns about many times! This giraffe monster CLEARLY has a pentagram in its design!! And the eye of this snake-like Squisherz is the eye of Horus, an Egyptian occult symbol and NEED I REMIND YOU that Lucifer took the form of a snake in the Garden of Eden!!! It is very clear what this page is goofing on and throughout the course of the game it doesn’t get updated at all, so it’s very easy to laugh at it and forget about it. Very late into the game, you get an optional sidequest. Adrian Merchant, one of the CEOs of Merchantsoft, the company that created Hypnospace, was found out to have logged traffic indicating he was a frequent visitor of a website called Children of HORUS, and a call is put out to investigate what that even is. You can easily find the website, but it asks you for a password if you click the Enter button. Adrian Merchant is consistently portrayed throughout the game as a complete idiot, and the solution to this puzzle has you capitalize on that. Another early game objective ended up with you finding a list of cracked passwords, and one of those passwords happens to be for the instant messenger account of Adrian Merchant. If you can remember that he was even in that text file from forever ago, and then put two and two together that of COURSE that dumbass would use the same password for everything, you just punch in his messenger password and you’re granted access to the Children of HORUS page. It turns out that HORUS is an acronym that stands for Hiding Occult References in Utmost Secrecy, and the page itself is a basic leaderboard with a list of names and two numbered columns reading “Hidden” and “Found”. In that list of names you’ll find A. Merchant, along with the names of various other CEOs and celebrities you might have read about elsewhere in Hypnospace. One of the other names on this list is F. Kazuma, the CEO of Monarch, creators of Squisherz. The funny conspiracy theory website from the beginning of the game that you most likely forgot about was, about this one specific thing, correct. There was an eye of Horus hidden on the snake from Squisherz. Not as any sort of Satanic plot, mind you, but only as part of some weird millionaire dickwaving contest. This dumb tiny revelation is not called out by the game at all and nothing comes of it, it’s just there for you to notice if you’ve been paying enough attention. Hypnospace Outlaw is LITTERED with stuff like this. Weird small interconnected things you wouldn’t expect to be interconnected. Little dumb things you wouldn’t expect to have any sort of payoff but somehow do. And it’s also just as chock full of big things. Having all the pieces fall into place at once to where I was able to access Hypnospace’s equivalent of the dark web was the best sequence in a game this year for me, even beating out the outlandish shit in DMC5. Getting and solving the final case was a rush. Hypnospace Outlaw is full of incredible moments big and small. It’s genuinely engaging and affecting, which is so much more than I was expecting from a game that was pitched to me as “Funny GeoCities Cop”. It almost has no right being so good. But it is. Hell, even the music rules! I didnt even get into that! I don't have enough time or space to get into that now! The music is so goddamn good! I know I started these lists because I had no interest in ranking games, but every year I sort of jokingly-but-not-jokingly say “haha this game sure would be my number one if I did that!” for at least one game. It’s time to fully lean into it. I don’t gotta rank ‘em all, but I can pick a favorite. Hypnospace Outlaw is my favorite game of 2019 with a goddamn bullet.

These games were also cool, I just had less to say about them:

Etrian Odyssey (Nintendo DS, 2007): Man, this series just started out good, huh? I dabbled with the first two games in college when I got a DS flashcart but never really dug in until EO4, and the first game is enjoyable in just about every way the modern ones are. Definitely more barebones and punishing though. Kero Blaster (PlayStation 4, 2017): This is a game by the creator of Cave Story that does not aim to be Cave Story, and that’s fine! A fun little shooter in its own right, though I do think the shooting in Cave Story felt a little better than it does here. Space Invaders Extreme (Nintendo DS, 2008): I played the shit out of this game in college thanks to that flashcart I mentioned before, but I never finished a playthrough in full until this year for some reason. Still way stylish and way fun! I need to get a copy of the second one... CROSSNIQ+ (Nintendo Switch, 2019): Incredibly chill puzzle game that can be as hard or easy as you want it to be. Almost uncanny in how well it emulates the style of late PS1/Dreamcast games. Super Mario Maker 2 (Nintendo Switch, 2019): Mario Maker 2 is kind of weird for me. It’s a solid improvement in a lot of aspects, but a clear regression in a lot of others. Also the online multiplayer is the second least amount of fun I’ve had with a video game this year (Secret of Mana swooped in and stole the number one slot near the end). Still, I had a lot of fun with it and I’ll probably end up going back to it eventually. Katamari Damacy Reroll (Nintendo Switch, 2018): The original Katamari Damacy is still every bit as fun and charming as it was upon its original release. This port is weirdly based on the Japanese version with the English text inserted, which means no English voice acting and Wanda Wanda only plays in the multiplayer mode. The Joycon sticks also aren’t the greatest for doing charge rolls. But none of these faults detract too much from the game. Bring on We Love Katamari Reroll! Earth Defense Force 5 (PlayStation 4, 2018): Sandlot somehow keeps finding ways to make each new EDF bigger and explodier, and EDF5 is the biggest and explodiest yet. I think the mission design in 4.1 was more solid overall, but 5 feels the best to play and has the most fun tools. Also the dialogue is the most absurd its ever been, and the final boss goes for it way harder than the series ever has. Pokémon Shield (Nintendo Switch, 2019): This game is honestly just okay, but leaving it off would again be neglecting a game I put a ton of time into this year. Pokémon Sword is fun in the way most Pokémon games usually are, and extremely half-baked in basically every other aspect. I’m still having a good time putting together teams and finding shinies and doing The Pokémon Thing regardless.

And that’s 2019 (and this decade) in the bag! I don’t know where anything’s going from here, but I’m going to ride it out as best as I can! I hope you do too! As always, thank you so much for getting to the bottom of all these words. I’m hoping to be in a more stable place mid-2020, and then I want to get back to all the things I haven’t had time to do. I want to get back to streaming, I want to write more dumb articles like The Best Babies, I want to do it all! I hope I will be able to do it all. Until then!

#article #year wrapup

12 notes · View notes

fucking-zawa-sensei · 5 years

Text

Just a Push

Title: Just a Push

Pairing: erasermic

WC: 4,900+

Rating: G

Summary:

He throws punch after punch, but Hizashi ducks away from each one, blocking with his arms, redirecting each swing into open air.

Shouta could feel the gap opening up between them, feel the Earth falling apart, crumbling and disappearing down the crater. He could feel Hizashi getting further and further from him.

Notes:

This was originally written for a zine that didn’t come to fruition, but I am very happy it gave me the opportunity and inspiration to write this piece.

Read it on AO3 here

Just a Push

He’d started on his own.

Every Wednesday after they wrapped up their hero class, when his other classmates slinked back to the changing rooms much slower than they’d come hurrying out for the day’s lesson, Shouta lingered behind.

Already dressed in his sport uniform, it made sense.

He knew his quirk was good, but not good enough to make him valuable to the agencies the other students so desperately wanted to make notice them. He knew he wouldn’t end up with someone offering to finance him a fancy new costume, or give him enough for a halfway decent place to live past graduation.

Before he’d even decided to try and enter the hero course, before he’d even applied to U.A., he knew where heroes like he ended up.

His quirk was good, but not good enough to keep him alive.

Not on its own, anyway.

At some point, his teacher had stopped casting looks over their shoulder, stopped asking if he was going to go back to the locker room with his classmates. This was Shouta’s routine.

Just him, the training field, and as much sweat and fear he could leave behind as he worked his muscles until he could almost feel them tearing and rebuilding just beneath his skin.

He needed to push himself harder than anyone here.

He wasn’t going to be like them, in the spotlight, donning their shiny new suits, practicing the correct way to answer a reporter in their mirrors at home.

He was going to be underground.

As he leans down, stretching his arms over his head to touch his toes, feeling his back twitch at the sore, tight feeling he forces himself past, having overdone it a bit in the day’s lesson, he hears some distant shuffling. He keeps his head down, hair falling over the sides of his face and blocking out his peripheral vision, and the distinct sound of shoes crunching grass gets closer and closer, until it’s just a few feet away.

Then it stops.

Shouta lets go of the tips of his shoes, straightening out. He lets his hands fall to his sides. Turning his head, he sees an unmistakable head of blond hair and orange tinted glasses beside him.

“Yamada…”

The other boy grins and waves, then spreads his legs and begins doing the most basic of all stretches, touching first his right foot, swinging back up to a straight position, and then going back down to touch his left.

Shouta rolls his eyes.

“What are you doing?” Shouta asks, pushing himself off the ground.

“Loosening up!” Hizashi throws his arms up above his head and makes a show of leaning into the motion, groaning as it pulls his back muscles.

“For what?”

“Training.”

“You’re training? Here?�� Shouta asks, placing his hand on his hip. Hizashi huffs and lets his arms fall down to his sides.

“Yeah! Well, I see you out here all the time doing more training, so I thought I could afford to put in some extra effort too, right?”

Shouta frowns.

Hizashi was at the top of their class. He most certainly did not need extra training. He was well on his way to having every agency in the city throwing themselves at him, begging for him to choose them as his internship.

“Not really…” Shouta mumbles. Hizashi’s eyebrows pull together and he tilts his head a bit, but when his mouth opens, Shouta turns away, walking several feet to put more distance between them.

“Just stay over there and don’t make too much noise,” Shouta calls over his shoulder.

To Shouta’s surprise, Hizashi does as he’s told, and the two spend an hour training in a comfortable silence, filled only with the sounds of their limbs moving through the air and the heavy breathing that comes with a good work out. He’d never tell the other boy, but there was something nice about the way Hizashi started running just a few feet behind him when Shouta finished his exercises with a few laps around the field. The blond kept a good distance, and when they finished, he did nothing more than offer Shouta a sip from his water bottle, which after only eying for a few seconds, he graciously accepted.

Hizashi and he had developed some sort of camaraderie since the sports festival. He ate lunch with the other boy and his two friends every day, and was always pulled into Hizashi’s group for projects. Shouta hadn’t really cared much about making friends at his previous school, so it was hard to judge just how close they were, for him at least, but if someone asked him...well...he supposed he’d have to say Hizashi was his best friend.

Still, while the loud boy was capable of making Shouta smile, and even on occasion laugh, there was a tender sort of rivalry bubbling beneath the surface of their friendship. Shouta was pretty sure that Hizashi didn’t feel it, couldn’t possibly be aware of the way the rest of the class fawned over him to his face, but looked on with jealousy the second Hizashi turned his back. Shouta saw.

Just like that, Hizashi inserted himself into Shouta’s after class training day after day, week after week, staying behind and pushing himself just as hard as the other boy. Shouta had originally thought it was just an excuse to hang out, Hizashi was rather nosey about Shouta’s life and hobbies in their breaks between classes, so he wouldn’t put it past the other boy to tag along during Shouta’s training just to dig further.

Yet, that didn’t seem to be the case.

As time went on, they started doing stretches together, even assisting one another, pushing on each other’s backs to help pull the muscles farther, rubbing their thumbs into each other’s shoulders to loosen out knots. They usually exchanged some small talk, about class or homework, something funny Hizashi had heard on the radio show he listened to on his way to school every morning, or the latest upper class gossip Nemuri had brought to the lunch table with her the day before.

It was nice.

It almost made Shouta want to take back the rule he’d set up on the first day, demanding Hizashi keep quiet, but working together without exchanging any words also brought a certain peacefulness.

Where the lack of noise might have bothered some, Shouta’s quiet nature had definitely seemed to make his other classmates uncomfortable in the past, here it did the opposite. It made him feel incredibly close to Hizashi.

Slowly, Hizashi began running beside him, and somewhere along the lines, throwing punches at targets and bags had turned to sparring with each other, connecting fists with open palms and dodging kicks.

When their teacher had spent a class going over the need for mutual trust and respect when working in partnerships with other heroes, asking the students to pair up for an exercise at the end, Shouta had turned to Hizashi first, not waiting for the blond to pick him as a partner the way he normally did.

Without thinking, his body had decided, I trust you.

Hizashi had grinned and pushed his desk to touch Shouta’s, signaling to the rest of the students that they had selected their team.

In the past, when Shouta passed classmates in the halls and heard whispers of Hizashi’s name, people saying they wished they had been born with such a quirk, that Hizashi was so lucky, he felt a tightness in his chest. He’d sometimes, guiltily, shamefully thought me too. Even if he never wanted that ideal, media focused hero life, a quirk like Hizashi’s would have made getting into U.A. easier.

Now, though, he felt something different.

He felt a sharp pang, felt his teeth immediately going to bite at the inside of his cheek, felt his face shifting into a glare as he stared at the tiled floor and passed them by while willing himself not to turn around and confront them.

It took him too long to figure out that what he was feeling was protectiveness, that he wanted tell them, you’re wrong.

Hizashi wasn’t born lucky.

He worked his ass off just like the rest of them.

He just didn’t complain like the rest of them.

It took a while, but Shouta saw it too, jealousy, that dark, poisonous emotion. When Shouta’s punches hit harder, faster, he saw Hizashi’s eyes glaze over briefly with envy.

Hizashi wouldn’t need to rely as much on his body for taking down villains, not with a long distance quirk, but he still seemed to want to have the option, to be as tough as Shouta. When the blond’s arms weren’t doing what he asked of them, Shouta saw that frustration he was all too familiar with himself.

Hizashi plastered on smiles and loud laughs, but he had the same fears they all had.

Shouta respected that.

Which was why today, when Hizashi was doubled over, hands on his knees, head hanging low as he panted after losing another hand on hand combat match, Shouta decided to throw away that dumb rule.

“I can give you tips, if you want.”

Hizashi lifts his head, raising one brow.

“Huh?”

“Your form...I can help you out. I can teach you what I know. I can teach you to beat me.”

Hizashi snorts, straightening up, and wiping the back of his hand across his forehead.

“If we were using our quirks I cou-”

“I would erase yours and then...what? We’d be back here...you losing every match.”

Hizashi’s face falls. He looks away and Shouta is glad, not for the first time, that Hizashi takes off his glasses when they spar. There was a remarkable amount of emotion hidden in those green eyes of his. It seemed to Shouta that half the reason Hizashi probably wore tinted glasses was to hide that, keep his true self masked under all the layers of brightly colored glass.

“Yeah...I know...I’m useless without my quirk.”

The words were barely whispered, but they felt heavy and loud in the space between their bodies.

Shouta looks down to the grass, gaze shifting over the blades that had been flattened under their shoes during their fight.

“If that were true, I wouldn’t be out here every day trying so hard…” Shouta admits. He hears Hizashi shift, but stays looking at the ground. “I can take away someone’s quirk, but I can’t make them less strong. If they’re better than me at their base power, I’ll always lose.”

Shouta lifts his head, meeting Hizashi’s gaze.

“You aren’t nothing without your quirk, Yamada.”

Hizashi’s eyes widen and he looks away again, turning his whole body. For a second, Shouta thinks the other boy’s cheeks look a little pink, but then again, the sun was beginning to set and they had just been working out for an hour.

“T-thanks…thanks, Aizawa. That means a lot.”

“Sh-”

Shouta almost thinks to tell him, you can call me Shouta, but his mouth snaps shut instead. Hizashi looks at him, his face questioning, and Shouta panics.

“Sh-shouldn’t we head back?”

“Ah? Oh, yeah, I guess so! It’s late!” Hizashi says, smiling. “I’m hungry...do you want to stop and grab something to eat on the way home?”

“Sure,” Shouta agrees before he can even fully process what Hizashi has asked. He’s a little surprised by his own easy answer, normally avoiding any invitations to spend extra time with people after school hours, but he’d technically been doing that with Hizashi for weeks already as is.

He was hungry, too, after all.

It made sense.

It was the logical thing to do.

An hour later, laughing so hard his chest hurts as Hizashi frantically wipes up the table where he’d spilled a whole bottle of soy sauce, Shouta forgets all about logic.

---

A few months pass and something shifts in their after class workout routine. It starts just before their finals exams, when test grades have started rolling in and their teachers were dropping hints about the physical portion every chance they had, trying to throw the kids off, while simultaneously trying to make them cave to the paranoia.

After breaking their shared silence and offering to give Hizashi more direction, their training had become more lax, as well as stricter. They teased each other and joked around, but also bickered about form and points, saying things like, you didn’t hit me, or, that was a foul, you didn’t give enough warning.

Shouta spent increasingly more time with Hizashi inside and outside of class, listening to the blond chatter about whatever interesting thing he’d seen on his way to school in the morning, Shouta sharing his own stories about the stray cat that he was trying to lure into his house, and walking partway home with Hizashi at night. They’d occasionally stop for a snack, or walk around the local shopping district, Shouta watching as Hizashi pressed his face against the window of the music store, promising the crystal blue guitar that was always propped up in the display for the 100th time that he would, “be back to bring you home!”

On the field, though, things were different. That carefree, easy flow of conversation they’d developed had vanished. Something had shifted.

The little flutter that was growing in Shouta’s chest every time Hizashi pulled his sleeve to get his attention during class was still present, but overshadowed by the increasing need to prove himself to Hizashi, to show him that he was stronger.

He wanted to be number one just as much as any other kid in their class.

Hell, he probably wanted it more, had to prove himself more.

It was obvious when Hizashi started taking their exercises more seriously, when the exams started weighing down on him as well. Shouta hadn’t realized they were so evenly matched before, hadn’t quite noted the strides Hizashi had made since Shouta started instructing him.

As the blond’s fist comes hurtling toward him, as he nearly dodges too late, Hizashi’s knuckles brushing along his cheek, Shouta realizes they might not just be evenly matched.

There was a real chance that Hizashi was better than him.

Something about the thought was rippling under his skin this afternoon, their physical exam was next week and their paper test scores had been released. Hizashi was at the top of the class, as usual.

A brilliant mind, he’d overheard one teacher say, that one has a brilliant mind.

Shouta saw, though, the little twitch at the corner of Hizashi’s eye, when he’d seen that Tayama, the girl in second place, had scored just one point less than him.

At the time, Shouta had thought, who cares? All he could see was his own slightly above average score, settling him just higher than the majority of the class, but still far below where he’d needed to be.

Shouta lunges forward, swinging his leg out to catch underneath Hizashi’s, but the other boy jumps up and lands perfectly back down on the grass, avoiding the swipe.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair for Hizashi to be smart and strong.

Shouta narrows his eyes, grunting, and dives at Hizashi.

He’d taught the other boy.

It wasn’t fair for him to surpass Shouta.

It wasn’t fair.

He throws punch after punch, but Hizashi ducks away from each one, blocking with his arms, redirecting each swing into open air.

Shouta could feel the gap opening up between them, feel the Earth falling apart, crumbling and disappearing down the crater. He could feel Hizashi getting further and further from him.

In his mind, he could see all the letters the other boy would get, see the internship requests flowing in.

Most of the best agencies were miles and miles away, multiple towns over. Hizashi would be living in a big city soon enough.

Shouta quickly crouches down when Hizashi goes in for a right hook, grabbing the blond around the waist and shoving him backwards, but Hizashi digs his heels in, doesn’t move.

It wasn’t fair.

Shouta bites his bottom lip.

If Hizashi was so much better than him already, why was he even out here? Why were they even doing this?

Shouta throws his whole weight into Hizashi, keeps pushing him backward, the slightly taller boy stumbles a bit before regaining his footing. His arms come down on Shouta’s shoulders, he groans as he tries to shove Shouta off, his fingernails gripping Shouta’s shirt and trying desperately to pull him back.

Shouta knew the truth.

He just didn’t want to admit it.

That the reason it hurt, the reason he couldn’t be proud of bringing Hizashi so far, the reason he was carelessly scratching at the blond’s back as he tried to shove him to the ground, was not because he wanted to be number one.

Shouta tucks his head into Hizashi’s chest, cries out as he gives another harsh push, and the other boy finally goes tumbling backwards, landing hard on his back. Shouta hears the air rush out of Hizashi’s lungs, feels the thud of the ground meeting muscle and skin vibrate through the blond’s ribcage and into Shouta’s own.

Shouta wasn’t jealous.

He just didn’t want Hizashi to not need him anymore.

It takes him a second to recognize the weak patting on his back is Hizashi’s hand quickly tapping out against his spine.

“O-oh!” Shouta says, still gasping a bit from the adrenaline rushing through his veins, rolling off of Hizashi and sitting up beside him. He kneels next to Hizashi’s head and watches helplessly as the other boy’s face scrunches up in pain, both of his hands pressed against his chest. It takes a few long seconds for Hizashi to suck in a deep breath, and then he’s turning over on his side and coughing, shifting his hands to wrap his arms around his aching body.

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry,” Shouta starts apologizing, one hand flying up to grab at his hair. He hadn’t meant to actually hurt Hizashi. He’d gone too hard. He’d let his emotions get the best of him and now Hizashi was curled up in a ball wheezing and it was his fault.

Shit.

Hizashi shakes his head against the ground, barely gets out, “S’okay…”

“It’s not okay...look at you…”

Hizashi cracks an eye open and shoots Shouta one of his signature smiles, except one side of his mouth is twitching, and it very quickly drops back down into a grimace. Hizashi takes another shaky breath and his whole body vibrates with it.

“Maybe we should go to Recovery Girl’s.”

“I’m f-fine.”

“You look like you can’t breathe,” Shouta says, brows pulled together in worry as Hizashi continues to cradle his chest. “You’re in the fetal position.”

“It’s...it’s a good...a good position,” Hizashi tries to joke, but between his raspy breaths it isn’t having the effect it normally does.

“We’re going to Recovery Girl’s,” Shouta insists.

Hizashi closes his eyes and frowns.

“I will carry you there if I have to, Yamada.”

“Hizashi.”

Shouta’s eyes widen.

What? Now?

Of all the times Hizashi could do this, could tell Shouta that he could call the other boy by his first name...now?

Shouta quickly stands up to try and hide the blush he feels quickly overtaking his cheeks.

“H-Hizashi, can you walk?” he asks the clouds, staring up at them rather than looking down at his suffering friend.

He might have broken one of the other boy’s ribs and here he was, unable to look at him.

“Yeah,” Hizashi whispers, placing a hand on the ground to push up. Shouta’s eyes snap back down to the other boy when he hears the little grunt Hizashi lets out, he immediately starts helping him up. He’d been expecting Hizashi to be mad, to shove away his hands, but he just smiles and mutters out a thank you.

“I’m so sorry,” Shouta says again.

“It’s fine, it’s fine!” Hizashi insists, breathing a little better now that he’s standing. “Someone was bound to get hurt at some point, right?”

No.

They’d been plenty careful before this point, had known when to stop. Shouta knew. He knew he should have backed out of the hold, that it wasn’t working, that he needed to find another way to get Hizashi to tap out safely, but he’d kept pushing and pushing until the blond broke.

Shouta glares at the ground as they walk in silence to Recovery Girl’s office, shoving his hands in his pockets.

If he wanted Hizashi to stay so bad, beating him up certainly wasn’t the way to do it.

It’s late, and when they arrive, Recovery Girl looks like she’s getting ready to pack up and head home. Any extracurricular activities were usually wrapped up by now. Shouta had his suspicions that she knew Hizashi and he were out there training together, that she never left her office before they stepped off the field, but he’d never said anything to her.

She turns around as the door opens, pouts at Hizashi’s pained face and glares at Shouta’s guilty one.

Shouta automatically finds the nearest wall to stand by, trying to melt into it, not call attention to him, but it’s an impossible feat with Recovery Girl. She knew how to make anyone feel bad for being reckless, especially when it was with someone else’s well being.

“I was wondering when the day would come that one of you would end up in here because of your little after hours fight club out there,” she says, waving her hand dismissively at the window.

“It’s not a fight club. We’re trying to improve our skills!” Hizashi insists, as she guides him to sit down on a bed.

“Then how did this happen?” she asks, tapping his hand where he was holding his side.

“We were sparring.”

“Didn’t look like sparring from up here,” she says, moving Hizashi’s fingers away from his chest.

Shouta bites down on his cheek as Hizashi’s eyes shift to him.

“You were watching?” Shouta asks quietly.

Recovery Girl hums into the silence.

“I noticed you two out there a few times now. It seemed like things were going well for you both, you are improving, but when I looked up from my work today I saw something a little different.”

Shouta looks away.

She saw him.

She saw him, not sparring, not training, but attacking Hizashi.

Hizashi tilts his head and Recovery Girl pokes and prods at his chest, making affirmative noises and nodding as he reacts with winces and flinches.

“Did a number on him, didn’t you, Aizawa?”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Hizashi says.

“It was,” Shouta insists, stepping away from the wall. Hizashi’s mouth pops open and Recovery Girl takes his hand and kisses it, using her quirk to heal his ribs.

She pats his chest when she’s done, says, “They’ll still sting a bit for a few days, but should be good as new before your exam. Take it easy until then. I’ll keep my mouth shut about this one, but next time you two decide to brawl in the field, you get to heal the natural way, the slow way.”

She backs away and Hizashi gives her a worried looking smile and hops off the bed.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Thanks…” Shouta mumbles. She shoots him another disapproving look and Shouta almost wants to tell her to back off, but he knows why she’s mad at him.

He knows he deserves it.

Hizashi slides open the door and steps into the hall, pausing to wait for Shouta, but before he can take a step towards the blond, Recovery Girl catches his elbow. He turns around and she leans closer.

“Usually, I find that words work a little better than fists when you want to tell someone how you feel,” she whispers. Shouta’s eyes widen and she pats him a little too hard on the back, pushing him toward Hizashi.

He steps out into the hall and Recovery Girl waves goodbye with a grin on her face before shutting the door behind them.

“What was that about?” Hizashi asks.

Shouta shrugs, starts walking down the hall. Hizashi is quick to catch up, slide into step by Shouta’s side the way he always does. After a few long, quiet minutes of walking toward the changing rooms, Shouta can’t take it anymore, abruptly stopping.

Hizashi stumbles a bit as he whips around after having walked passed Shouta.

“What is going on with you?” he asks.

It was a good question.

“Ya-Hi...Hizashi…” Shouta mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Hmm?”

Shouta looks down at the tiled floor, shifting his sneaker. A little stone falls out from the sole and he kicks it across the tiles, watches as it skips along before trickling to a stop.

“I...it wasn’t your fault. Out there, that wasn’t your fault. It was my fault. It was just my fault.”

“Aizawa, come on. It’s fine. So we got a little rougher than usual, who cares? We’re both nervous about the exams...I know I’ve been pushing myself harder these past few weeks.”

Shouta’s lip twitches.

“I noticed.”

“Yeah!?”

Hizashi’s voice sounds happy, a little higher pitched, and Shouta looks up to see him smiling, eyes wide, as if he’s shocked Shouta was paying that much attention to his improvement. How could anyone miss it?

“Yeah...you’re way better than you were when you first came out to train with me months ago.”

“Thanks! I couldn't have done it without you.” Hizashi’s smile grows wider, but Shouta’s frown deepens in turn.

The other boy seems to finally notice his unhappiness, his eyebrows pulling together in concern.

“Why do you look so sad, then?”

Shouta shakes his head.

“I...I guess…” Shouta nibbles at his bottom lip briefly. He hated doing things like this. This was why it was easier to just not have friends, to just keep to his own business like he always had.

Yet, when he thinks about the way he’d felt before meeting Hizashi...when he’d spend his lunches eating alone, studying alone, training alone, walking home alone...he didn’t want to go back to that. He’d felt lighter, less stressed this year than he had in his entire life. The way Hizashi pulled laughter from deep inside his chest, and brought a flush to his cheeks, Shouta didn’t want to lose that.

He looks at Hizashi, standing just a few feet away, his smile now having vanished.

Shouta didn’t want to be the cause of that, couldn’t be the cause of that.

“I pushed you down because I was angry.”

“What?”

“I was angry,” Shouta repeats. “Not because you were matched with me, maybe even almost better than me, not because I was jealous of you...but...but because…” Shouta groans, rubbing his hands across his face to try and dispel some of the heat he felt rising to the surface below his cheeks.

“I was angry because you don’t need me anymore, and I...I don’t want...it was better...this way,” Shouta says. “I like having you there to train with me...I like it better than doing it alone.”

“You…” Hizashi starts, his voice small, quieter that Shouta had ever heard it. “You were afraid I’d leave you?”

Shouta scoffs.

“I mean…” he trails off, crossing his arms. It was so embarrassing when Hizashi said it like that. “I wouldn’t put it like that.”

Hizashi’s face breaks out into a grin again.

“But it’s true! You don’t want to lose me! You like me!”

“Of course I like you, why do you think I let you hang around?” Shouta asks, rolling his eyes, but it’s not use, he can feel the blush on his face.

“No, but you really like me!” Hizashi laughs, his smile getting impossibly bigger. He looks happier than Shouta has ever seen him, holding his hands to his cheeks, his eyes scrunched up in little crescents.

“Aizawa!” Hizashi says, stepping forward. He comes up to Shouta’s side, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Don’t worry. I could train on my own if I wanted to, but I don’t, because I don’t want to. I’d rather be with you, too. I don’t care how good or bad I am. I’m not going anywhere.”

Shouta feels that familiar warmth spreading through his chest, a feeling he was beginning to associate with the boisterous blond. It was always comforting, always bright, and it only ever happened when Hizashi was there.

If what he said was true, this feeling would be here to stay.

Shouta lets his arms drop down, and brings one up behind Hizashi’s back, tentatively placing his palm flat against it. He feels the other boy’s steady breaths rising and falling beneath his hand.

“You can call me Shouta.”

Hizashi giggles happily, bringing his other arm up around Shouta’s shoulders and pulling him into a hug.

“Okay, Shouta!”

On any other day, Shouta might be telling Hizashi he was too close, making some sort of sarcastic remark, but right now...right now...this felt good.

He wraps his arms around Hizashi’s back and squeezes in return. That soft, gentle feeling pulses through his entire body now.

Hizashi begins pulling back, but Shouta realizes he doesn’t want to let go. He’s not ready to go their separate ways just yet.

“Do you want to get something to eat on the walk home?” Shouta asks, letting his grip loosen and fall away.

Hizashi leans back, his hands coming to rest on Shouta’s shoulders.

“I’d love to.”

#erasermic fanfiction #erasermic #maizawa #eraserhead #present mic #yamada hizashi #aizawa shouta #bnha #mha

147 notes · View notes

atinyidea · 5 years

Text

Glitch | Ateez Gang! AU | FIVE

⟶ gang!au, hacker!au, love triangle? poly? female!original character

How curious it is, the fact that the police just gave a media conference, confirming ATZ’s involvement in Kyungri’s families newly-appointed murder, just as she sat down for her best friend, Jaehyeon, to be tattooed by one of the gang members?

⟶ glitch ml! main ml!

⟶ prologue | previous | next

⟶ note! @bri-ne @atinyluna @iis4d @untainted-memories @thegirlwiththedorkydad !! if anyone wants to be on a tag list for this fic just let me know!

⟶ 2983 words

⟶ edited 08.03.2020

FIVE: Warning Signs, Colour Change And The Text

SAN, KQ HEADQUARTERS

Sunday 26 October 2025, 03:25

What was he doing? He was practically slamming his own head against a wall numerous times. Why was it now that he turned into a teenager again, stumbling over himself about a girl? San felt like he was sixteen again, about to tell the first person he liked that he actually liked them. He felt weird.

He felt old, thinking about his sixteen-year-old self, nine years ago. He released a sigh from his lips, looking up at his room’s ceiling. He was practically hanging off the edge of his sofa bed (because when he was younger, he was too edgy for a standard bed and now he was older he was too lazy and sentimental to get rid of it) as he contemplated actually sending the text or not.

With a groan as he sat up, rubbing his face with a hand as his other hand played around with his phone. He was twenty-five now. He shouldn’t be so worked up about a stupid text. He’d done it so many (not that many) times before so why was he concerned over this?

Then he remembered who exactly he would be texting, and he groaned again, flopping back on the bed.

He’d be texting Pyo Kyungri. The girl whose laptop he had placed a bug on not even twenty-four hours ago. The girl who had sent Hongjoong into a small frenzy after she had found two of their gang members as quickly as she did – or maybe he was in a frenzy because she found them on a police file? – and they had spent the next few hours investigating her. When he and Yeosang had heard she was a hacker – right from the source herself – their little plan was more than needed.

San had thanked his lucky stars that the events unfolded as they did, it had made his job so much easier – to plant the bug while Kyungri had excused herself to the bathroom and her friend, whose name he hadn’t actually learnt yet, had been called by her boss to teach Yeosang how to work a coffee machine.

It had been easy. And now San stared his phone, her number already saved, the text already typed and ready to be sent. San couldn’t help himself, he was curious by nature. It didn’t help that she was, in fact, as pretty as her friend had said.

“She’s pretty too, don’t you think? Do you think she’s pretty?” She rested her head in her palms, her gaze lever leaving him. “She’s single too, there’d be no competition to win her over or anything.” San hadn’t meant to let his imagination get the best of him – “Pretty, smart and single. She’s a triple threat right, everything you could need right. Do you like pretty smart girls? Pretty, smart girls? I reckon you’d look great together! I mean, you’re just sat next to each other, and I’m already being attacked by the visuals! Think of the children!” – but the only reason he had blushed was that he had indeed let his imagination get the best of him. He assumed that was one of the reasons why he was so caught up in his head.

San could feel himself blushing as he thought back to the words of the orange-haired girl but shook his head to get rid of the feeling like he was physically shaking the blush from his cheeks. He didn’t know why he was blushing. Blushing! Of all things!

It was times like these that he would have gone to Wooyoung, or Mingi, to try and figure out exactly where his head was. His members, his best friends, always knew how to help him clear his mind – especially when his curiosity got the best of him and created a confusing, jumbled mess of his thoughts. But Wooyoung had been away since last night, given the task of the arms deal, so he hadn’t even been home to be told about Kyungri and her impressive hacker skills, and Mingi was most likely asleep. San wouldn’t want to wake sleep-deprived younger man anyway – even if he did want to, he wouldn’t. Waking Mingi up was like antagonising a bear or something. San wasn’t looking to get mauled because he couldn’t work up the courage to text a girl.

So, San did what he did best. He let himself be curious and finally (after twenty minutes) sent the damn text.

TO: Hacker Girl: Hey there, your overzealous orange-haired friend gave me your number, and I just got out of work so I thought it would be the best time to text in case I forgot in the morning and made the worst mistake of my life – gotta give Jaehyeon something to talk about, don’t we? 😉

THE LOFT

Sunday 26 October 2025, 03:27

“We are so incredibly screwed.”

Chaeyoung was sat on the floor, crossed legs dressed in a set of plaid pyjamas, a towel around her neck as she ate chicken while Kyungri was dying her hair. Kyungri, who had just had her first load of bleach put on, was also in a pair of pyjamas – these ones checked – hummed in agreement.

Gongmyung had passed out a half-hour ago, letting the girls get on with their hair knowing it would take a while. The girls had also decided to scrub through the recordings from their hidden cameras to gather as much information as possible, projecting the video onto the blank wall in front of them.

“So, so extremely screwed.”

“We’ll be fine, stay still,” Kyungri mumbled, pulling the dark brown dye through freshly bleached locks.

“We were seen, held conversation with and even taunted three of the most prolific members of NCT. They know my face! I got up in their faces!”

“Calm down, we weren’t talking to them for more than ten minutes tops. The only features they would really remember are your bright orange hair and your sickly-sweet voice. Which is not your usual voice and we are curren,tly changing your hair.”

“You weren’t looking at them Ri.” Chaeyoung’s voice was calmer now, the video paused on the faces of the three gang members they had spoken to just hours ago. “That red-haired one, Yuta, he hardly said anything. He was just looking at me. He’s definitely got my face committed to memory or something.”

“We don’t have to worry about it now okay, don’t get worked up about it today,” Kyungri told her softly, wanting to comfort her but not wanting to dismiss her fears either. Chaeyoung went to nod but refrained from moving her head, letting out a little hum in agreement as she un-paused the video. They were watching her footage.

She gasped a little, reaching to pause the video again, moving her body suddenly. Kyungri managed not to spill any hair dye when she did so. “Look!” Chaeyoung exclaimed, pointing. “Isn’t that Mr Lover boy from your fun escapade in X-Clusive?”

When Kyungri looked up, she too let out a gasp. Because Chaeyoung was right.

The image was slightly blurry, but his form was distinctive: silver hair, low cut shirt, an array of ear piercings.

“Oh shit.”

“Do you think he saw you?”

“I don’t know!”

“What are you going to do if he did?”

“Well, I'm currently bleaching my hair blonde so.”

The girls settled into silence once again as Kyungri tied up Chaeyoung’s hair and slipped off the gloves.

“Kyungri…” Chaeyoung started, voice low in volume. Kyungri hummed for her to continue, making her way to the bin, getting a piece of chicken on her way back. “Just, have a look at your laptop real quick.” Kyungri’s expression twisted to one of confusion, opening her mouth to ask why but stopping herself as soon as she spotted the serious look in Chaeyoung’s eyes. “I think it may need to be put on charge or something.”

Kyungri made her way over to the desk where her laptop was sat, right where she and Gongmyung had left it to carry out a longer hack. She bit into her piece of chicken as she lent down to take a look at it. Her chewing motion stopped for only a second as she noticed that the webcam light was on, directly recording anything it saw. She didn’t acknowledge it, nodding to herself and looking back to Chaeyoung, “yeah, I think I’m gonna let it sleep for a while.” She said, slamming the lid closed.

Once the lid was closed that the webcam was no longer filming them, Kyungri brought a finger to her lips when Chaeyoung opened her mouth to speak. She then motioned for her to wake Gongmyung up. They couldn’t make themselves any more suspicious, and they couldn’t be sure if the person hacked into her laptop hadn’t separately hacked into the laptop’s microphone. “How did it get this low?”

Chaeyoung did as instructed, shaking Gongmyung awake – “Where even is your charger?” – as Kyungri practically ran to her room to get a whiteboard and pen. She was back in the room in under a minute writing furiously on her whiteboard.

WE’VE BEEN BUGGED.

“It might be in the kitchen, can you check?” Kyungri asked, keeping up with the little act she and Chaeyoung had started. Chaeyoung indeed went to the kitchen, but not for the charger (because the laptop had been connected to the entire time) but for another one of Kyungri’s laptops.

Gongmyung opened his eyes with a groan, his words cut off by Kyungri’s hand before he could get them out. She held up the whiteboard for him to read, shouting back to Chaeyoung in the kitchen, “Can you grab me a coke or something while you're there?”

Chaeyoung came back with an empty glass, – “Here you go, one glass of coke and one laptop charger!” – swapping over the other laptop for the whiteboard. While Kyungri made sure all the files from the closed laptop were stored on the hard drive of the new laptop, Chaeyoung started writing on the whiteboard.

ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THIS?

Kyungri closed the new laptop and nodded.

Chaeyoung dropped the glass, the sound of it almost echoing through the loft. “Oh shit!”

Kyungri had picked up the old laptop and promptly hit it against the side of the wooden table as hard as she could and then proceeded to snap it in half to the best of her ability before letting it drop to the floor to become a new floor mat.

The three of them shred a glance, not wanting to speak in case it wasn’t just the laptop that had been hacked into. Gongmyung gently took the whiteboard from Chaeyoung’s grip.

I’LL GO RUN A SEARCH ON THE SERVERS.

Both girls simply nodded at the man, watching as he left to go downstairs before making their own way to the bathroom. As if the morning wasn’t crazy enough, Kyungri’s phone let out the familiar chime indicating a new text.

FROM: Unknown Number: Hey there, your overzealous orange-haired friend gave me your number, and I just got out of work so I thought it would be the best time to text in case I forgot in the morning and made the worst mistake of my life – gotta give Jaehyeon something to talk about, don’t we? 😉

FROM: Unknown Number: Uh, it’s San btw

Chaeyoung took one look at the text and let out a laugh, so loud, and powerful Kyungri was almost worried about her organs.

“Of course! Perfect timing MISTER SHADY BUT SURPRISINGLY HOT TATTOOIST!” Chaeyoung shouted at the phone.

“Are you… okay?” Kyungri asked tentatively.

Chaeyoung looked up at her with puppy-dog eyes that made her look like a child instead of an adult. “I think the fumes are getting to me. We should probably wash your bleach out now.”

“But what about the…” Kyungri motioned to her phone and then vaguely around the room.

Chaeyoung simply shrugged. “There isn’t anything electronic in the bathroom, it’s a safe haven.” She giggled, eyes widening at the sudden revelation before she grabbed Kyungri’s wrist and pulled her to the bathroom. “Plus it’s like almost four in the morning, he can’t expect you to reply instantly, let him think you’re sleeping.”

“But I’ve opened it, he’ll see that I’ve read it.”

“It’s your fault for putting read receipts on then.”

Kyungri grimaced a little but nodded in agreement anyway for Chaeyoung was correct, as per usual. “Help me!” She shined like a child, almost jumping up and down on the spot. She wasn’t sure why she was so worked up about it. It was just a text, she’d texted people before.

“Just reply.” Chaeyoung deadpanned, “But do it after I wash your hair out, it’ll burn your hair off if you leave it too long.”

“That’s a myth, and you know it,” Kyungri replied but knelt down to bend over into the shower anyway. It took just over fifteen minutes to get everything out, and when Kyungri straightened up, she was appreciative she could finally stretch her back again.

“I am so unbelievably grateful my mother is a hairdresser,” Chaeyoung mumbled, grabbing the pile of discarded foil strips and throwing them in the bathroom bin. “It’s always a good thing to know how to properly bleach someone’s hair. You look great, I don’t even think you’ll need a second coat.”

“I bless the world for your mother.”

“We still have to tone it though, get the orange ends out for good.”

“You’re good to me, but I thought we were cutting it?”

“Oh yeah!” Chaeyoung smiled, playfully flicking Kyungri’s own hair into her face. “We’ll still tone it anyway.”

A knock on the door started both girls a little. Chaeyoung let out a shallow laugh as Kyungri called out a small “come in,” watching as Gongmyung’s head popped around the door.

“They accessed one of the servers, I managed to lock them out, but whoever it was most likely knows where we are now.”

“Oh shit. We have to get out then. Like out of Seoul. Like out of Korea.” Chaeyoung rambled, getting louder as she continued. Kyungri placed a hand over her mouth, rubbing her other hand up and down Chaeyoung’s forearm in order to calm the younger girl down.

“We don’t have to leave Korea, we don’t even know who it was.”

“All the more reason to leave the country! What if it was NCT? Or ATZ? We’re gonna get shot in our sleep!”

Kyungri looked back up at Gongmyung to help her reassure a now crying Chaeyoung, but she was met with a serious and solemn expression. “It would be best if you probably weren’t in the country anymore.” He spoke slowly, moving more into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. “I can lead them away to another city, but if you took them overseas, they’ll be baffled for sure. It wouldn’t be more than a couple of days.” He concluded, taking out his phone to look at the next flights out of Seoul.

“We can’t just leave the country! We all have actual jobs to do, you know!”

“I’m your boss, think of it as a job.”

Kyungri had to admit, Gongmyung had a point there. Her eyes flickered back to Chaeyoung. “She has two other jobs, though.”

Chaeyoung gently removed Kyungri’s hand from her mouth. “Working at the hairdressers with my mum isn’t a real job –”

“You get paid for it.”

“– and my boss at the café can’t deny me the two weeks of paid leave I have built up!”

“We can’t leave the country!”

“Why not? It would both be safer for us and would scramble their was of getting to us!”

Kyungri was at a loss for words. Why couldn’t they leave the country for a few days? She shrugged to herself. “I’ll let my aunt know I have a long job and won’t be home for a couple of weeks then.”

Chaeyoung squealed.

“How’s Bora Bora sound?” Gongmyung asked, “the plane leaves in twenty hours, you can be done in under twenty hours, right?”

“I can have us done in two!” Chaeyoung grinned. “Just need a couple more minutes for my hair dye, and then we’re cutting Ri’s hair, but I can have bags packed for a couple of days in Bora Bora done in an hour!”

“Don’t rush yourself, get it done and get some sleep. I’ll buy you guys breakfast later.” Gongmyung smiled, purchasing tickets for Bora Bora there and then. “We need to be at the airport four hours before departure so maybe rush a little.” He said, promptly leaving.

They were going to Bora Bora.

“This is exciting! You might as well tell San you’re leaving the country! That’s a good way to start a conversation!” Chaeyoung winked before switching the shower on again to wash out her hair dye.

TO: Jaehyeon’s Crush: Sorry for the late reply! I’m just a little busy trying to get everything together before I can head for the airport hehe ^.^

Kyungri practically slapped herself in the face after the text was sent. Hehe? What the fuck was that? She was so incredibly fucked.

TO: Jaehyeon’s Crush: I might not be available in a while, so apologies in advance!

Things were getting worse.

TO: Jaehyeon’s Crush: but wow you finished late then!

That was better.

“Hey!” Chaeyoung shouted from under the water. “Stop texting your tattooist boyfriend and be a good person and help me with my hair!”

Kyungri shook her head with a smile before locking her phone, putting it on the floor (subsequently the big mistake of the day) before making her way to Chaeyoung who let go of the shower hose and left them in a drenched bathroom.

Her phone was going to need some rice, that was for sure.

50 notes · View notes

crazyperfectsense · 4 years

Text

4/30/20/1

god April was 5 minutes long and I’m going to spend all 5 of them writing this post

this is honestly probably far too personal to put into the public of the internet, and perhaps I’ll take it down before anyone really sees it, but Tumblr is comforting because it is almost a graveyard and the people who remain (who I see in fleeting posts in passing, hi) I trust (or just will not see this because they do not care or the algorithm does not favor long text posts), whereas Facebook is horrifying and Instagram is worse, and this is likely going to be too long to hold anyone’s attention for the whole thing, but I also want to get some notes down for whenever I finally get to talk to my therapist again, so here we go

I woke up at 6:30am naturally (horrifying!), leapt out of bed because I realized how much work I had to do (hate when a nap turns into just...sleep!), and got a text from my dad 15 minutes later that my maternal grandfather was in critical condition, and somehow still managed to do work for the next six hours out of necessity

it briefly brought back flashbacks to 2012, where my dad didn’t tell me for a week that his father died because I had finals my first semester of college, but told me right after he picked me up as we were driving across campus to pick up a friend that we were taking back home, so I had about 3 minutes to compose myself before a 2 hour car ride (horrifying!)

my grandfather died around 1pm, and I had the truly unique (horrifying! ! ! !) experience of finding out via text while I was on a Zoom call as the TA, where I was the only person sharing video other than the professor (my advisor!), and I had to keep my composure while simultaneously finishing creating the homework that I was behind on making while also trying to figure out what to respond to this text notification of mortality, because I don’t know how to say any sort of condolence really in Chinese, but my dad was handling communications and just texting in English anyway — and I don’t know, it’s the kind of thing where I probably could’ve ditched the call and made excuses later, but the effort to preserve even the slightest tinge of normalcy in this moment seemed right, and I did my very best (and succeeded!) to not spontaneously burst into tears on camera, even though I did about 0.03 seconds after I hung up

an aside: thank god that my advisor was sharing screen and people were hopefully focused on him / in speaker mode or something, because my neutral face is....poor! not entirely sure because I avoided making eye contact with my virtual self aside from brief checks to make sure that I was still alive, still functioning as I flickered from screen to screen across my two monitors

I had a meeting scheduled with my advisor afterwards, and he was all ready to move into it, but was so extremely understanding the second he saw my message I had sent 50 min earlier that was effectively “can we push this back a bit because my grandfather died and I need to call my fam lol” and suggested (as any normal person with emotions would) that I take the time to formally postpone and regroup if needed (needed!) rather than just pushing back a half hour or so like I naively thought would work

I had to desperately cry for about 20 minutes (horrifying!) before I felt ready to call my family, even so

I hate hearing my mom sad! it’s the fucking worst! but it was a relief for 2 seconds to exist over a phone line with someone who also couldn’t talk straight without needing to take a few gasping breaths

another aside: i didn’t write about this in February because, well, everything was on fire in my life already, so briefly: my mom was supposed to be in China through mid-March, having gone there in October. things obviously went to shit, given *gestures at COVID-19 and the world*, and we booked her an early return flight, given that the senior living facility my grandparents were in had already closed to visitors out of precaution. my brother, dad, and I collectively freaked the fuck out (my brother started crying in the middle of class and had to leave, I barely held it together in mine but paid negative attention) when flights back from China started getting cancelled (and for those like, terrifying few hours where Trump was going to ban foreign nationals since my mom’s not a citizen and they didn’t make it clear that immediate family of US citizens were fine), but we somehow made it happen

so, back to the phone call: I just let her talk and she had so many regrets about leaving China when she did, and it just made me feel like the shittiest person for wanting her back home in America when it deprived her of the chance to see her dad one more time. my uncle and mom luckily got to take my grandparents out of the senior home for one night to celebrate Chinese New Year the day before the facility closed to visitors, so they had one last dinner together as a family but thinking about the what ifs makes me want to cry all over again. my mom just kept saying how she wished she could’ve done more, how she wished they had gone to the hospital earlier for a check-up, and the most I could helplessly contribute was “coronavirus concerns were already rampant and it could have been even worse, given airborne contagion,” even if I said as many other things as I could, about how dialysis was painful as hell and my grandfather, the former doctor, said he didn’t even want to be in the ICU at the end years before his passing

I learned what the Chinese words were for “depression” today, when my mom said my grandfather said he had it and they had gotten him some medication for it a few months ago, and I was so stunned that it was “depression” and not some strange disease I was unfamiliar with that I couldn’t say anything for 30 seconds, and I can’t really write more on this point because I will just start crying, but perhaps I should really think about how aging research is largely focused on non-Asian populations and how perhaps, I’m uniquely equipped to contribute a bit to the field here (but, that is true for so many things, and I am tired!)

my grandfather was great. he was quiet, but stubborn as hell. he was a doctor, and he loved routine. he cared so, fucking, much about me and my brother. he always insisted on taking my brother and me on walks to the same few places that he liked to visit — I remember visiting this community center that had a ping pong table — and him going out of his way to find me internet access, since my grandparents’ apartment didn’t have it for most of the years I visited. he loved taking me and my brother to KFC, because he thought it was the height of Americanized cuisine in China, and was so proud of how much better it was than American KFC (which he hadn’t had, but he knew, and he was right. we would eat every single bite of a two-piece meal each. even the ketchup was better). he once cut out a newspaper clipping ranking UT as the #2 college on this huge list of colleges (I think it was referring to research endowments, but anyway) and saved it to show me almost a year later. he told me in 2013 that he would probably live to see me finish college, and he lived to see me two years into grad school, dying when I was halfway through year three. he was 89. I loved him so much, even if we didn’t get to talk much at all.

I’m so mad at all these fucking people who, in the land of the free and the home of the so-called brave, are being idiots in this time and not social distancing. I’m so mad at every single friend who posts a large or small gathering to their story, at everyone who is so thirsty for social connection that they’re willing to put everyone they’re in close contact with at risk to hang out with another person for just a few hours (horrifying!). humans are social creatures who need engagement and connection to live — having written 22 pages about health and social relationships across 12 hours a few weeks ago, I understand this point so saliently that it’s painful. but seeing such....levity when my mom is crying over not being able to even go back to China to properly say goodbye because they won’t admit anyone from the US (and the US has banned travel to China, like that was necessary in this xenophobic environment) makes me want to punch a wall. suck it up! call your friends over Zoom or FaceTime like the goddamn rest of us!

grief is so strange, and grief is encapsulated in every molecule of this new normal — the strangeness of missing the life that once was, even if the past wasn’t something that I thought I’d miss. I remember feeling so, so guilty for traveling twice in February because of the studying for comps that I should’ve been doing, and now I marvel at my foresight. (and have so many regrets for the people who I told “I’ll see you in April when I’m back after comps are done!!”

I’m in this weird spot where I feel like I’m screaming at the people around me to care, and all of them are too busy with different social ties, and I’m watching my connections wilt and fray because everyone thinks I’m so stable and put-together (or boring and shy?)

an example: I was left off of a reunion Zoom call with some people I worked with in college that was widely talked about on social media regarding “love having shared all this time with these strong women” and all, and it felt very, idk, selfish and whiny (horrifying) to be like “how can you call this feminism when I, a real woman, am being left out of this call”! the following exchange, about the above, happened with in a group chat with a very blunt friend:

D: “Also, how does it feel to be left out of that [organization] Women zoom call, Amy?” another aside: (this....was a stupid question. but we’ll allow it, because boys will be boys.) me: “lol it honestly hurt my feelings but it's not like they weren't cliquey from the very beginning ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ to be expected I suppose” D: “Yeah when I saw that I was like “Why didn’t include Amy, she was there at the same time as they were”” me: “LOL thanks for thinking of me 🥺 they clearly did not”

(the other friend staying quiet, because it was tangibly awkward, even if I tried to play it chill, but my feelings remain hurt) perhaps if I cared more, or wanted to try and make people feel bad, I would’ve replied to a story with “tfti”, or laughed, or heart-reacted, or something “casual” that still implicates “where was my invite”, but....is it even worth investing the hurt and care and time when I’m not even sure it would spark embarrassment on their end? because perhaps they intentionally just do not...care about me and my feelings? at all? (horrifying?)

(I already know this to be true, even if the snub was unintentional, but I needed to muse about it anyway)

another aside: I still talk with plenty of people from this organization who I am MUCH closer with, and I shouldn’t feel snubbed to be snubbed by people who I never felt too close with in the first place! (and yet! horrifying!)

sent an extremely passive aggressive message earlier and yet, K tells me that the people in the chat might not even read it as passive aggressive! (horrifying!)

god. I don’t know! I feel so much sadness and anger, and yet still have a few hours of work to do tonight. it’s wild that even today, where my heart just hurts every few seconds if I think too hard, I still have my mind centered in needing to be productive and not lazy because I’ve already spent too much time procrastinating on my work (horrifying!). but the work is about Asian American collective action / media production, and I feel good about it, and I’m working with some badass Asian women, and I really hope it lands in this flagship journal, because that would be a win, and I kind of just need one!

oh if it’s not clear I finished comps and I don’t know if I passed yet but they’re done so...that’s something

also whoever fucking looked at Chicago style citations and thought “oh hmm, let’s make another type of Chicago style that is DIFFERENT and call it Chicago style documentation” is the literal fucking devil

ok this is enough for now bye. god this was long. (horrifying!!!!!!)

#ever spontaneously write 2000+ words

2 notes · View notes

isthisthingeven0n · 6 years

Text

the series - part three : d.d

this has been so much fun to write so far and explore the depths of a series that doesn’t exist... yet?? thank you for all the support on this so far, and for understanding that this is kinda my main focus currently in terms of writing. other things are coming- just a bit more of a delay thats all :)

one / two / three / four / ending

Seven days ago everything I thought I knew is no longer true.

I thought my boyfriend was someone completely different. I thought I was happy in my life with those around me.

But now I’m wondering if everything I’ve been told is a lie.

Tomorrow Shane is releasing part three for his series with David. At this point I feel like I’m chained to my TV, my phone is something I avoid glancing over at as I keep it face down on my kitchen counter. I don’t want to hear excuses, I don’t want to see his apologies or how he’s feeling from our friends.

Right now all I want is to know the truth, and deal with the repercussions this will have on me.

“How you managing?” I sip at my tea, trying to push back any emotions I’ve been drowning in over the course of a week. She raises her eyebrow as I avoid her gaze. “Y/n, I’ve known you for long enough to know you’re not okay.”

I sigh loudly, defeated. “How did you know you weren’t in a good place with them?” I ask, now directly looking at her.

She takes it in, and processes the question. I watch her fidget with her nails, and tuck her short hair behind her ear only for it to fall back in her face again. “I just didn’t feel connected anymore.” She states and I nod, knowing exactly what she means. “Shit happens, and I realised who was going to be there for me, and who wasn’t at the end of the day.”

“Like with the whole Ricegum shit?” I ask, and she nods.

“This sounds identical to my interview with Shane.” She laughs, and I remain quiet. I watch her hand reach out to mine, and I see it rest there but I can’t feel it. I’m numb. “Y/n, if there was anything I knew that I could tell you, you know I would.” She states and I nod.

“I know you would. But Gabbie, do you know what Liza was on about with Shane?” She retracts her hand, and rests it around her other arm anxiously.

“I wasn’t there, so I don’t know all the details. But I know there was an accident, and a few people got hurt.”

I swallow hard. “Did, did someone, did someone die?” I force the words out of my mouth, and blink back the tears that form too easily at this point.

She shakes her head, and I let the tears fall in relief. “No one died. But, people got hurt, bad.”

I’ve waited until it’s dark out. I know he won’t bother me now. He’s left me alone this long, he can wait a bit longer until I’ve seen my best friends side of things, a side she’s never really told me.

The video starts with fans, content creators, commentary and drama channels chiming in on what they think of the series so far. Some don’t shy away from the backlash from fans, and others comment on my input on this so far.

I see my face appear, a picture from my Instagram of the two of us. It was our most candid moment in Rome, I was so happy, I was so naive.

“Why is Y/n taking a break from social media? Maybe the truth about David and Liza’s relationship was just too much to take or account for after all.” One voice speaks over a series of clips, comparing Liza and David to us now.

The comparisons make my skin crawl. We are two entirely different people.

I watch as the camera cuts to Shane sat down, he looks exhausted. “Well, a lot has happened that I didn’t anticipate in the past three days since we released part two.” He half laughs, as tweets and articles slide across the screen with a mix of hate and confusion as to what this series even is.

“What do you want to do?” Andrew asks and Shane shakes his head.

“I mean, I didn’t go into this with a clear direction. But, all I know is that I want to explore who he is according to those around him. His girlfriend, his ex girlfriend, his best friends and his old friends too.” We all come up on the screen, and then lastly, Gabbie.

A video montage plays of her featured in vines with David, and then videos she filmed with Liza and David. I see myself appear from vlogs with her, some dating to the past few months. “So, despite her not being friends with the vlogsquad, she’s still friends with Y/n?” Andrew asks and Shane tries to process what he just said. I faintly laugh to myself, realising how dumb it all sounds aloud.

“I mean, if Y/n and Gabbie are really friends, how do they not address the massive elephant that follows them everywhere- and I don’t mean me, cause I’m not usually invited.”

I shuffle on the spot, itching to grab my phone and see if he’s said anything. But I resist the urge as I pick up my water and resume the video.

“I’ve known Gabbie for years. We’ve got an interesting relationship?” Shane tells the camera slightly perplexed.

Andrew chuckles from behind the camera. “That’s one way to put it.”

“True. But besides that, we’ve been through some tough times together and she is her element. I mean, she’s got her music, her book, her channel all of it. It’s all working for her.” He lists off her accomplishments as photos appear of her transformation over the past few years, one that still amazes me every time I see her. “Yet, she’s never been more broken.” He states, flashing to a video of her having a breakdown, one I knew about all too well.

I remember she phoned me that night. She was done, she had had enough of everyone and everything. She didn’t know what to do, she was having a panic attack and she spiralled. I drove straight there and we sat on her floor for hours.

Forcing the memory back I focus on the video.

“So, we’re heading over to Gabbie’s now.” Shane tells the camera and then pauses, leaning against his table. “Oh my god, this is like a cute reunion for you guys.” Shane gasps, and it clicks. Gabbie and Andrew were friends.

A nervous laugh sounds from behind the camera. “Wow, I kinda didn’t see it as that, but yeah, I guess it is.”

“If it all goes well could have a date in store for you.” Shane nudges Andrew and he makes an incoherent noise between laughs. The camera cuts off, and the title sequence plays.

I try to ignore the happy grin on David’s face, as now I wonder if it is actually real or a good act he kept up.

When the camera turns back on, Shane has settled down with Gabbie who wears a bright smile on her face. One I know is her nervous smile. “So, we’ve had a catch up and talked off camera, cause well,” Shane looks to Gabbie who just nods.

“Yeah, we had a shit ton to talk about.” She laughs and Shane dead pans the camera. “But it’s all good. Well, not why you’re hear but yeah.” She’s rambling, she’s doing a signature nervous Gabbie.

“Come on Gabs.” I whisper to myself, wanting to hear what she has to say. I need to know if there’s more to all of this after all.

I tried to piece together what was in the last video and what Gabbie told me already.

An accident, someone, or multiple people got hurt. No one died, but it was bad. David was involved, and so was Liza. Gabbie was not present.

Whatever it is, it’s haunting all of them in some way shape or form.

“So, you knew David and everyone else from your Vine days?” Shane asks and Gabbie nods.

“Yeah, it’s weird thinking back to those days. I just feel like YouTube has been my platform for so long now, it’s weird.” She explains about Vine, and how diverse it was to YouTube. “I’ve changed a lot since then, but I feel like some of them haven’t. I’m not naming names, as there is no point making drama or dragging anyone because of this. I just didn’t feel comfortable with all of them like I once did.” She states, and I nod along with Shane through the screen.

“Did you feel as if you outgrew the squad?” He asks and then laughs to himself. “Sorry, still trying to take all of the ‘squad’ names seriously.”

She chuckles before answering. “Yeah, kinda. I just didn’t feel the support was a two way street. I looked out for them, but I didn’t seem to get it back. It made me feel like I was just someone there in the background who wasn’t necessary.” She states and her joyful expression initially has died down, revealing how she really feels.

Watching her talk about those I spend all my time with makes my heart ache. Clips play comparisons of her a few years back with everyone to her now, filming more on her own or with new friends where she is laughing. It’s not all a negative comparison, it’s more honest.

“So there wasn’t any particular reason why you just drifted from them all?” Shane asks and Gabbie sighs. He knows more than she thinks. “Cause Liza told us about the incident.”

Gabbie’s eyes widen. She looks to Shane who places his hand on hers and squeezes it lightly. “Can you, or are you able to talk about it a bit more?” He asks and she bites her lip, clearly hesitant to even mention it.

“I honestly do not know.” She explains. “What happened was something I wasn’t involved in. Like, when it happened I wasn’t there, but I heard all about it. I was involved in the aftermath of it all and it was kinda like ‘keep quiet or you lose everything you’ve worked for.’“

Shane’s mouth drops. “Wait really?” He asks and she simply nods.

“It was not good publicity whatsoever. Like, some people would not have the careers they have if it got out.” She says bluntly.

“Okay, we’re going to talk a bit off camera, and then we’ll come back later.” Shane motions to Andrew who lowers his camera, Gabbie takes one last glance into the lens before it goes black.

Standing up I listen to them talking in the background, he’s asking about her music, the meanings behind some of her songs and the influences they’ve had.

I grab my phone, ignoring the typhoon of notifications and open my messages. I bypass everyone’s pleas and type a simple message to him.

we need to talk.

644 notes · View notes

kenjiro-s · 6 years

Text

Complementary Colours, Ch. 1 - A SuguYaku fanfiction

Based on the one lonely piece of fanart by narcissusbutterfly.tumblr.com - http://narcissusbutterfly.tumblr.com/post/160280804640/yaku-morisuke-snake-trainer-cause-he-knows - I saw it and it made so much sense someone had to write it.

Morisuke loved weddings, he really did, but sometimes…sometimes he wished people would take the easy way out and keep it as simple as possible. True, wedding supplied roughly half of his business, and yet in moments like this, he wondered if he couldn’t keep it afloat without them. The woman currently screaming at his face was an image he’d seen up close and personal way too many times, but the bad thing was that this one in particular didn’t have the excuse of being the bride. Said future bride, looking younger than Morisuke’s 25 years, was standing meekly to the side in silence and letting her mother walk all over her. He had to say something, but the shouting woman wasn’t giving him many openings.

- …and I just don’t get why you won’t even try to do it ! It’s my baby girl’s special day and you’re just trying to get your money without doing the minimum required work and I just can’t… - He tried not to sigh.

- Madam, I have been in this business for years and I can assure you, - She opened her mouth to keep going but Morisuke simply raised his voice. – ornamental garlic blooms do not come in red. Any shade of red. They come in purple, blue, yellow and white, but not in red.

- And you won’t even try to find some ? What kind of lazy business model are you running, huh ? Won’t even make an effort ! I will be taking my business elsewhere, thank you very much. I want my deposit back !

- Now, madam…

- No ! You’re ruining my baby’s special day ! Her flowers won’t match the theme colours ! It will look terrible ! Think of that ! Her wedding will be a complete failure, and it will be all your fault !

- Mom… - Apparently, the younger woman was getting just as tired from the situation as Morisuke.

- How do you live with yourself ? Huh ? How ? How do you sleep at night ?

- Mom…

- I assure you, madam...

- No ! Give me my deposit back ! We have no time but I will find someone who will do their job !

- Mom ! Stop it ! – The word bounced around the shop in the dead silence that followed. The only other customer who’d been pouring over the fertilizer shelf while acting out he wasn’t listening to the conversation, froze. Fukunaga, just glanced up, his usual calm exterior not betraying anything, and then went back to sorting through the carnations. – Just, stop ! Here, we’ll just go and talk it through, and then come back later today, okay ?

- Chiyuki, I am just trying to make your special day perfect. And it will be gorgeous…

- There’s no need to shout at people for it to be perfect. Let’s go. – The older woman didn’t move. – I said, let’s go, mom ! – And then she marched out of the shop like a queen. Huh. She had a spine, after all. Her mother, on the other hand, just glared back at Morisuke, huffed with her nose up in the air, and ran after her daughter without even a touch of the same grace.

- Man, you get scenes like this often ? – The other customer was standing at the counter with a handful of yellow roses.

- You’d be surprised. – The man’s pitying look was obviously exaggerated but it made him laugh. – Yellow roses ? An interesting choice. – The customer rubbed his neck, cheeks going lightly pink. Obviously embarrassed, he scratched at the buzzed off part of his undercut and sighed.

- Yeah, I messed up. I think. Not sure if, you know, he’ll be mad, but can’t go wrong with roses, right ? – The amount of desperate hope was adorable. And the man was obviously doing his best “puppy” impression, with large chocolate eyes shining from under his long blond fringe. There was only one small problem.

- You sure can’t. Let me ask you, though. If you don’t mind, who are they for ?

- Um, this guy I’ve been trying to score a date with ? We’ve been kind of missing each other a few times and it’s not his fault or anything, but I managed to screw up and want to apologise. It will be our first official date. Have to make a great impression and all, you know ? And he seems like the kind of guy who would like yellow roses. Not too forward or romantic, but still a gesture ? Sweet, but not too much ? Why ?

- Because yellow roses mean “friendship”. Or, “friendly appreciation”. – The customer’s face fell. It almost made Morisuke want to apologise for ruining his day. – And I don’t think that’s what you want.

- Oh. No, I guess I don’t. Can you recommend me something else, then ? I am pretty sure he doesn’t speak flower, but now that I know that, I won’t be able to focus on our date because I’ll be overthinking it. Or he could check it out and it will be over. – It was definitely cute how worried the customer was over it.

- Well, if you want to avoid the love declarations and marriage proposals on your first date, I’d say go with…Fukunaga ! – His friend blinked at him. – Do we have any of the yellow roses with the red in the back ? We have only three here. – Fukunaga just rose from the carnations display and disappeared behind the “Employees Only” door.

- He doesn’t talk much, does he ? Yellow with red ? Should I be worried about those ?

- They could also mean “friendship” but I’d say that if he checks, he will read “falling in love”. Better ?

- Much. Thanks, man. You’re saving my life here. First dates, right ? – The wide smile almost covered the shaky nervousness but still. The man was friendly enough. – Oh, can you put a ribbon ? But nothing too over-the-top. Don’t want him to feel pressured.

- Of course.

- He works in this extra fancy café, you know. And I know art and things that go together, and that place is like a designer’s wet dream. – An interesting way to say it, but Morisuke just hummed in agreement and kept pulling out ribbons to compare the colours. – The prices are all right, which is weird, but anyway. It’s super stylish so he’s used to being around pretty things and pretty desserts all day. I just want to make an impression. If you ever need a cupcake that could be on the cover of a magazine… - And then he slid a business card on the counter.

- Trying to win points with him by advertising the business ? – That got him to laugh.

- No need for that, their tea is more than enough. Oh, man, this is gorgeous !

He’d gone simple, with a ribbon in the exact same yellow as the roses, and made the least pretentious bow he could. It looked, in his opinion, pretty without being too much. And so did the customer, if his expression was a sign.

- You got tattoos ? – Where had that come from ? He just shook his head. – Cool. If you ever decide you want one, give me a call. I’ll give you a discount. – A second business card fell on the counter. – I love it ! Thanks again ! – And with a final wave, the customer left, comfortable silence filling up the shop after him.

Morisuke picked the two business cards. One was All black and silver, advertising “Terushima Yuuji, Tattoo Artist”, with chains and skills elements, and contact information. It somehow worked without being too much. The man apparently really had an eye for those things. The other was in deep royal purple, also with silver elements, but with much simpler decorations. Clean, abstract outline of a cupcake, looking like it’d been drawn with a silver pen, and the name of the place. Also pretty. He opened the box with business cards he kept on hand – dealing with different kinds of events sometimes called for desperate measures and he’d found out early enough than one could never have too many connections and no industry was too far from catering. It was simply smart to keep everything organised.

In the late afternoon a few hours later, Morisuke found himself scrolling through social media. The shop was in order, Fukunaga was drawing quietly behind the counter and it was the quietest part of the day. Going on impulse, he googled the studio first. One had to know what their connections were really worth.

The website listed tattoos and piercing, with, respectively, Terushima Yuuji as the artist and Bobata Kazuma as the piercing expert. Morisuke had never really wanted a tattoo but he had to admit the photos were beautiful. Completely different from the classic yakuza style, they were more Western in design and colours, and were simply beautiful. The piercings didn’t make much sense and he’d never thought people would want holes on those body parts, but, to each their own. Apparently, the business was booming since there were a few warnings about a waiting list and long waiting periods.

The café’s website was strangely similar. Purple and silver dominated the whole thing, but it was really ordered and, judging by the photos, they were legit and not stolen from wherever the baker had taken the recipes. And, okay, he had to admit his customer had been right. Those were gorgeous. Slowly going down the page, Morisuke couldn’t help but wonder how did the creator, because calling them simply “baker” seemed like an insult, could do things like that. They appeared to sell a mix of traditional Japanese dessers in both their natural look and with one or another trendy twist ( there was glitter, shine and tall chocolate structures ), and, unless he was mistaken, European pastries in vibrant colours. Also, there was a long list of fancy coffee drinks and almost as long one of teas. Impressive.

He didn’t usually go on impulse but the woman in the morning had taken all of his energy and he needed recharging.

- Fukunaga. – The questioning look he received was basically a long declaration coming from the other man. – I’ll go get some tea. Will you be okay by yourself ? I shouldn’t be long, it’s close. – All he got was a small nod. Good. He waved and checked the directions again on his phone.

It was surprising he hadn’t stumbled upon the café on his was to work at any point. It was just one alley away from his everyday path to the shop.

The customer hadn’t been lying. Judging from the exterior, someone had poured a lot of imagination in the place. Of course, it all depended on the food, but Morisuke was optimistic. A bell jingled when he opened the door and he was assaulted with cozy warm air that carried the scent of cinnamon and apples. Also, coffee. Closing the door as quickly as possible to keep the snow outside, he stepped in the almost empty café. Only one of the tables was occupied, a man in a huge sweater with two laptops and an assortment of small colourful…things on a pretty plate in front of him, seemingly deep in whatever was happening on the screens. Otherwise, it was empty, Morisuke blaming the same lull that happened around this time in his shop, too. It was between lunch break and the end of the day. Also, there was an actual fireplace. Huh.

Cozy place, he decided, looking around. Lots of bits and pieces scattered around but it looked closer to his flower shop than a mess – someone had taken great care to create such an artistic mess without making it stuffy and overcrowded. He approved.

The glass display by the counter was a different thing. Unlike the interior, there was nothing messy or disorganized about it. Rows upon rows of neatly placed…he wasn’t sure if calling them “desserts” was good enough, but that’s what they were supposed to be. In front of each row there was a card with the name in both Japanese and English ( or French, or something else he couldn’t recognise ), price…He leaned closer. Also, ingredients and nutrition information. Whoever had done it had covered all bases.

- Can I help you choose something ? – Morisuke didn’t jump only because in his line of work sudden movements usually meant broken flowers and nobody wanted that, especially not him. That didn’t mean he was happy. The guy on the other side of the display had gotten closer without making a sound and his small smile was just a touch annoying, though Morisuke couldn’t put his finger on why.

- Just looking, thank you.

- You sure ? I know we have a lot of things. I started recently and, trust me, the first few days all I did was fetch stuff to learn where it is. It could get overwhelming. – And then he slid the small smile back on his face, shrugging a little.

- You know what ? Sure. My friend likes something called London Fog, do you do that here ? And what would you recommend with it ? – The slow blink he got almost made him laugh. To be fair, the first time Fukunaga had asked him to order him one when he’d done the coffee run, he’d reacted the same way. And he wasn’t even trying to be mean, that was the only thing Fukunaga drank. It was one of the oddities he’s learnt to live with since his friend was a hardworking man who knew what he was about. Just because he didn’t talk much and drank the vile, in Morisuke’s opinion, concoction, that didn’t mean he had something going on. He simply had a terrible taste.

- Well…Let me…Yamaguchi ! – A second man had just appeared behind the counter. Glancing up, Morisuke saw his face was splattered with freckles. Cute. His colleague smiled again and he realised why it bothered him. It came to his face too fast. Looked a bit practiced. – What goes with London Fog ?

Straight to be point. Morisuke almost laughed at the waiting expression on the man’s face. He seemed to expect confusion and when he didn’t get even a moment of hesitation, said smile faded a little around the edges.

- Lemon cake or pastries. Why ? – The answer had come instantly and the man, Yamaguchi, looked between the two of them. – Is everything okay ?

- Um, yes. This gentleman was inquiring about it, that’s all. I wanted to make sure I was pairing the right things.

- Oh, of course. It’s got a pretty strong flavor so it makes sense. Would you like me to make it while you ring the order up ? It will be faster.

Morisuke would’ve missed the relief that crossed the man’s face if he’d blinked at the wrong moment, it had gone that fast.

- So, what will it be ? – And, the wide smile was back. Morisuke narrowed his eyes.

- The latte… - More confusion. – The London Fog ? And I’ll have a latte with cinnamon on top. Also…something lemon ? – The man at the espresso machine pointed at the soft yellow sponge cakes on the left. – Yeah, one of those. Thank you. – He got a nod and turned back to the other side of the glass. – Oh, can I have a slice of the…Matcha Mille Crepe Cake ? Thank you.

The slow, careful way the man was working the till contrasted sharply with the quick nimble gestures of his colleague. Started recently, huh ? But he’d been honest enough, and had called for help when put in an unfamiliar situation, and Morisuke could appreciate that. Though the polite smile was still annoying.

While he’d been spacing out, his order had been put in a pretty box with a ribbon and a logo sticker. Unless he was mistaken, the ribbon was the same kind he used for centerpieces for events. Impressive.

- …and here is your change. Enjoy ! – He looked up. This close, he noticed for the first time the man had forest green highlights that almost blended with his dark hair, that perfectly matched his eyes, and an eyebrow piercing. And was currently observing him as closely as he was being observed. Morisuke took his change and turned, zipping up his coat.

- Thank you. Have a nice day. – Now he just had to remember the way back. Just because it was close, didn’t mean…there it was. And it seemed Fukunaga was handling it perfectly, judging by the wide smile of the only customer and how fast she was chatting. Good.

Suguru Daisho didn’t like surprises. He didn’t like them one bit. And today, that one customer had managed to surprise him in the worst way possible. He hadn’t meant to look like he had no idea what he was doing, but what, the Hell, was London Fog ?

- Are you okay ? – He smiled lightly and turned to Yamaguchi. The concern in his voice was sweet but it felt too close to pity for Suguru’s comfort. Not only had the other man seen him deep in confusion but he’d also had to save the situation.

- Yeah, sure. I was just caught a bit unaware, that’s all. – The concerned expression faded to a soft smile. Good.

- Trust me, I know how you feel. I think the first time Kawanishi told me to fetch something for a customer I froze for a whole minute. He just told me to walk around the display and look at the tags. – Yamaguchi shrugged a little. – Not my proudest moment. I actually put cards on the back of the display, too. You know what ? I will go and put them back.

Great. He didn’t need someone to go so out of their way to make things easier for him just because he didn’t know the names of everything yet.

- Thank you, but…

- No, no, it’s okay. Futakuchi still runs around every time someone orders something. It will make it easier for everyone. Sorry I didn’t think about it earlier ! – Why was he apologising ?

- It’s okay. So, you got a list with all the secret drinks people order ?

- You mean, the ones people never order ? Actually, I do. Here, let me show you…

#haikyuu!!#rarepai #rare pair hell #daishou suguru #yaku morisuke #suguyaku #fanfiction #fanfic #coffee shop au #flower shop au #aged up characters #different first meeting

3 notes · View notes