#i refuse to get sentimental about it partially because my desires are for it to work practically

[poetryqueer]

the temptation to put a poll up for new middle name is. too great.

[scrawnytreedemon]

a ghirahim Idea for you:

so yknow how lots of fics compare and contrast ghirahim and link? like, I did it myself in Touch. they everyone goes about it (including me) is to cast link as hylia's sword like ghirahim is demise's. NOW listen to this. what about ghirahim as demise's Hero?? it would go perfectly with your headcanon of ghirahim being the First Hero. go off about this if you want, or just read it and be entertained <3

GODDDD SO SORRY FOR BEING LATE last week was... so fuckign hectic FORREAL-- aNYHOW,

Seriously, that's kinda how I treat him??? Obviously, it's not a perfect 1:1, but there are a ridiculous amount of parallels.

While I don't think Demise needs a Hero™ in the same way Hylia does, Ghirahim does undeniably play the role of gallant knight - And I think that's where his and Link's roles line up almost perfectly.

I'll admit that my First Hero for Ghirahim is... incredibly messy. The idea, even then, is that he's not solely created by Hylia - There always was a bit of Demise, because, well, you can tell that Demise made him. He's very much their child, to put it in sentimental language, in that sense.

I've like... a number of ways of going about this.

Ghirahim was once two separate entities, each serving their master, continually meeting on the field of battle. At some point the First Hero(Rahim) is brutally wounded, physically, psychologically, or both, and that causes a break. One way or another, they end up fusing; the new being's former memories regarding Hylia are heavily surpressed, not wishing to dwell on the betrayal - Whatever that might suggest.

Demise and Hylia were either allied or the same being at one point during Ghirahim's partial creation, only for Demise to make a break for self-actualisation(read: world domination) - Or be inherently inclined to it, because they're Hylia's negative traits thoroughly purged(to the best of her abilities). Hylia takes this entity of their union, intending to thoroughly turn it on Demise... only for it to backfire. Can't fight inner nature. Not when you refuse to acknowledge it, anyway.

I feel like the second method might run the risk of un-alienating Demise, in an ironic sense? A big part of their whole schtick is that they are, in a sense, this culmination of chaos that broke its way outta the ground - This primal, beastial nature that man and its allies are so thoroughly pitted against in ancient mythology. Could see it working better via purge-theory; but again, I've listed out two theories for a reason; I'm of two minds.

...Not unlike Ghirahim!

Regardless of his origin, it's clear that Ghirahim is very much of two natures; pure, gleeful might vs. gracious, if imposing decorum; duty and desire; where both said duty and desire lie.

Returning to the point of Demise not needing a hero... funnily enough, I brought this up to a friend not too long ago, and she said something that was very interesting.

Right, so Demise' ordeal is a sort of brutal, meritocratic Darwinism - As opposed to the vengeful, Satanic sort of brush they get painted with, I propose another reading on this:

Demise values strength. Demise ran over the humans, not out of any particular spite, but because how they see it, if you can't fend for yourself, then tough shit. They're this fucking... culmination of this competitive brutalism; an extreme version of the Will to Power. They respect Link because he actually bothered to stand up, regardless if they believed he was going to succeed or not - And when he defeats them, they congratulate him; calling him a paragon of his kind. They see and treat him as an equal, in a way Ghirahim never did; never could, even.

Because Ghirahim is a serving figure to Demise, so thoroughly caught up in hierarchy... I don't think it's ever occurred to him to stand up. Or if it has - And we're taking the idea that he has some of Hylia's ordered, lawful nature - Then there's this feeling of sin, blasphemy regarding it - He's a sword, he's meant to serve! It's in his nature, it's the way things should be--

And this is where Celine caught me off guard.

She suggested that perhaps Demise would show Ghirahim that same respect if he actually went ahead and did it.

Which is.

Man.

That changed the entire way I viewd their dynamic.

I wonder... would it even have been something Demise desired, in a sense? What better proof that your teachings, your ethos, your whole being is correct than being able to rear a being not only able, but willing, to surpass you?

It's fascinating.

I know this probably ended up being quite a bit more about Demise than Ghirahim, textually, but that's because if you're trying to slot Ghirahim into the Hero role, you need to work out what his god would be; how they are.

And I suppose that's what it comes down to.

Why would Demise need a Hero, if it's almost antithetical to their worldview?

After all, if you want a job well done, do it yourself; and if you can't,

Then tough luck.

[animehouse-moe]

Boys Abyss Volume 1: The Boy From That City

A bit of reality, a big cup of edge, a reasonable scoop of symbolism, and a large helping of good art. Boys Abyss volume 1 has a lot going for it, but might end up a little shallow and stereotypical in some pieces for readers. But who am I to say what people should and shouldn't read in one paragraph? I can probably do it in 10 or so.

⚠️Warning: Sensitive Content Ahead⚠️

Boy's Abyss is a story about Reiji Kurose, a boy bound an gagged by family and history in a small town in Japan. His grandmother needs constant nursing from Reiji's mother, and his older brother is a NEET with a penchant for aggression. Despite drowning in responsibility and expectations, he attempts to keep his head above water. He hangs out with his childhood friend Chako and does his best to keep up. But it's not enough. And it's at that tipping point that we get thrown into the story.

I think the biggest caveat is that this isn't a story that's not been told, or a sentiment that hasn't been rehashed quite a few times over. So depending on where this lands in your reading list you may find it monotonous, but I'd still say it has important aspects to carry its story.

Reiji doesn't exactly give in to the abyss, but he continues to peer further and further into it in this first volume. He sticks his hand in, but just as quickly pulls it out, afraid of what might happen if he left it in there much longer. Because that's all he needs, just that moment of numbness that allows him to escape the present. That is, until he gets refused as a convenience store for trying to buy cigarettes in a high school uniform.

The event snowballs into a feverish night of depression, passion, hatred, desire, and confusion. It leans a bit heavily on the "nihilism" is stylish movement, but I think it finds a good way to pinch things off at the end of it. Overall, the development is a pretty good characterization of a high school boy. Repression and emptiness gives way at the hands of someone skilled in hopelessness to a fit of hollow passion and dominance. Reiji doesn't want the idol Nagi Aoe, he wants the person behind the idol Nagi Aoe, someone that he thinks nobody else can lay claim to.

Of course, this moment is the point of no return for Reiji. Even if the night ends in embarrassment and a pathetic display, he can't get her out of his head. He can't get their pact out of his head, he can't avoid reference or association to her and that night. Pandora's Box has been opened, and it leads to some solid development. The overall tone of the manga begins to shift, and Reiji becomes more... well, more "free" is what Boy's Abyss is trying to say. I think it's a rather narrow piece personally, and I think being bound by the pieces unleashed by Nagi Aoe is a far better reveal. But, at the end of the day, the signs of the latter still exist in the freedom that Reiji expresses.

And express he does. Shouting into the night with a stranger you had a one night stand with as you talk about suicide is about as expressive as you could expect Reiji to be. In contrast to my complaints about the prior development, I found this piece to be much more realistic. The indescribable urge to let loose about your sorrow, fear, and hatred of life to someone who hardly knows you is incredibly alluring.

Now, the title, symbolism, and progression. Let's start with the above image. Reiji is partially cloaked in darkness, while Nagi is completely obscured by it. This is about the best example out there, of the "effect" of the Abyss. Reiji has one foot in it, so he's partially obscured, but Nagi has both feet in the grave so she's fully coated in it.

An abyss, a river, a typhoon. Whatever it takes to drown out the woes and emotions of life. As much as it's a figure of speech, it is a central piece to the story of Boy's Abyss. Running into the man that popularized the Lover's Abyss, walking over the same flowing river each and every day as the thought grabs hold of you. Darkness grips the pair, who only can meet at night. Dark clothing cling to Nagi in Reiji's weakest moments. I wouldn't call it heavy handed, but it's pretty in your face about the connections between the title, the story within this story, and your average symbolism.

So lastly, what separates this from the pack? Firstly, I think the overall intensity is rather tame so it doesn't end up overly aggressive about its worldview. Secondly, I really like the inclusion of the childhood friend Chako. Yes, we have Gen but that plays into the inescapable nature of Reiji's hometown. Chako on the other hand is the beacon of light in Reiji's life, and has been for quite some time. Their interactions work well, and she's proving to be rather pivotal in selling Reiji's character. Giving him everything he can: money, a place to get away, a voice of reason and hope. It helps alleviate some of the issues you might see with other stories in this sort of approach.

At the end of the day I don't think I'd call Boy's Abyss an outstanding manga. It's good, pretty good even, and certainly good enough to be something I'm willing to keep on my shelf and continue reading. It's just not some smash hit story that will grip readers from the moment you pick it up. There has to be a willingness to accept some of the pieces of it to be able to appreciate what it does. Maybe we'll see the tropes and clichés change form as a longer story begins to form, but I really can't say. All I can say is that this review (after the first paragraph) is 10 paragraphs even.

[lemonjoonah]

Level of Restraint (M)

Pairings: Jimin x Reader, Namjoon x Reader, Taehyung x Reader Word Count: 13K  Rating: M  Genre: Thriller, smut, office AU, BDSM AU  Warnings(contains spoilers): This story contains very dark themes and may not be suited to all readers, protected sex (vag+anal), threesome, double penetration, bondage (including partial suspension), dom/sub roles (reader is a sub), praise kink, mild degration, sensory deprivation, spanking, fingering, cum feeding, mild breathplay, sex toys, exhibitionism, voyeurism, discussion of safe word, Namjoon is a professional dom/sex worker, referenced discrimination of sex workers and those who participate in BDSM, public outing of sexual practices, inappropriate workplace relationships, referenced death of minor character, yandere character, misidentified sexual partner, manipulation, bribery, blackmail, implied stalking, violence.

Summary: As a co-founder of a consulting firm you can’t afford to be caught in a scandal. So flirting with your secretary, Jimin, would be out of the question. Giving your client’s son, Taehyung, a reference for a sexual partner would be reprehensible. And having regular paid BDSM sessions with your dominant, Namjoon? That would be a career ending disgrace. It’s too bad the only restraints in life you approve of are the cuffs that bind you to the bed, because there are those hiding in the dark waiting to take advantage. 

A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who supported me while writing this story. It was hard not to question the level of darkness this tale descends to. In the end your assurances and aid are the only reason this fic made it to fruition. Upon reading you might notice several thematic references to the ‘Fall of the House of Usher,’ by Edgar Allan Poe  and the Greek myth of Tantalus. They are two of my favourite tales, and together they greatly represent the darkened desires depicted in this oneshot.

...

8:55 am KNJ: Good girl.

Your heart races upon receiving the response you’ve been waiting for all morning. The sender had requested proof that you were wearing his last minute gift, and you were happy to oblige with the lewd photo. Finally seeing his simple praise for your efforts makes you grin from ear to ear, as you enter the front door to your workplace’s building. The message will be enough to get you through the day, high on the thought of his praise while his present is wrapped tightly around your ribs. Though the garment may be confining, you’ll endure anything to receive those two simple words.

Reluctantly glancing up from your phone you look ahead to see the elevator closing.

“Hold the door!” You call out, making a run for it. Mercifully the gap between the doors widens allowing you to climb in before it begins the long haul up. Glancing over to your savoir, you find your secretary standing at the panel. “Thanks Jimin.”

“No problem,” he responds with a warm smile. “What floor do you need?” Joking as he pushes the button labelled 14. 

You playfully shove his arm while trying to catch your breath. Had he left you down on the first floor there's no telling how long it would be before the elevator returned. The building in which you work has been down to one lift for a couple days, with no promise of when the other will be fixed. It’s not a surprise really, ever since you moved into this complex three years ago you’ve been plagued with breakdowns and shotty utilities. Considering how opulent  the tower is, with it’s gilded elevators and halls adorned in finery you expected better, but people often overlook flaws when they have something pleasant to stare at. Allowing the management to slack on some of the failings of the structure. 

“Do you think you could send maintenance another message?” You ask your hand clutching your waist to comfort the stitch in your side, no doubt a result of the corset concealed beneath your clothes. 

“Consider it done.” Jimin replies, pulling out his phone. “Are you okay Miss?” He asks, your heavy breathing failing to go unnoticed judging from the concern in his voice.

“Fine.” You quickly change the subject, not wanting to linger on your current state. “What’s on my schedule for today?”

“You have a consultation with Mr. Kim of HOC Industries in an hour-” 

“Really?” You cut in, confused about the sudden change. “But I just saw him a few weeks ago. Why is he coming in?”

“He didn’t say, I just got a message last night from him stating he required an appointment immediately.”

“That’s not a good sign...” You groan, wondering what information had dropped to spur a need for such an urgent response. 

“Afterwards you have an early lunch with journalist Min. Followed by a one o’clock appointment with Jeon Jungkook to go over the new web layout. And the rest of office hours are slated as admin.” 

You cringe over the prospect of bookkeeping. Your accountant’s involvement in a recent accident, placed him on an extended leave of absence. Since you are the only other member of your small staff qualified to balance the books, this leaves you burdened with his duties. “Remind me later to make a posting for a temp position.”

“Noted,” Jimin remarks as he continues to scroll through his phone. “Oh and don’t forget, you also have your monthly massage appointment with Kim Namjoon tonight.”

You smile at the thought, you would never forget a booking with him, especially since he’s the reason for your current state of breathlessness. You’ve been counting down the days until you get to see him, with only a few hours left you can barely contain yourself. To everyone who asks he’s a masseur, but the services he provides are far more aggressively intimate than a standard massage. You force a small cough to cover the involuntary moan starting to escape. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.” It’s not a complete lie, with the stress from work there have been a lot of restless nights recently, your appointment tonight should help to relieve a bit of that tension. There’s a loud groan as the elevator comes to a stop at your floor. You look up to the top of the lift and over to Jimin with worry, both of you stepping off with haste once the doors open.

Your entire office space consists of only a few rooms. You and Hoseok had started this company only a few years ago, focusing on corporate consultations regarding public image and approval. All things considered you’re doing rather well. With your negotiation tactics, Hoseok's philanthropy efforts, and Yoongi on retainer as your media source, you’ve been able to take on several giant corporations.    

As you walk down the hall you find the temperature starting to rise, and upon stepping into your’s and Jimin’s shared office, you’re hit with a wave of heat. You whisper your curses as you check the thermostat which has been jacked to its highest setting and refuses to shift back down. 

Giving up on the system you turn to the windows, but even those are a struggle after being neglected for so long. You call out to Jimin for assistance, waiting no more than a second before he is by your side. But even with his help you only manage to open them to the grand extent of a sliver before you’re forced to give in. At least with your office door open there’s now a small draft pervading the space.

“I guess I’ll send maintenance another message,” Jimin chuckles.

“You don’t think he’s trying to push us out do you?” You inquire about the building owner, and one of your own clients. You don’t usually make such bold claims, but with Jimin’s ties to the dubious man, it’s hard not to ask.

“I wouldn’t put it past him. Though I think this is more likely due to his lack of regard for the workmanship going into his properties.”

You nod overlooking the now stuffy room which holds both your desks. It serves its purpose with a sufficient amount of daylight from the large windows, and a partial wall giving you each a bit of privacy. You’d rather not have to leave this building and the status that comes with it, but there seems to be no end with these faulty appliances. “So much for being the height of sophistication.”

While you settle into your workspace you’re already dying from the heat, a sweater and camisole overtop your corset was not the best choice for today, but you didn’t want to risk anyone noticing the garment beneath. As you shuffling through your newsite tabs Jimin readies the coffee maker, returning to you with the first dose of your daily caffeine needs. 

“You’re a saint.”

Jimin smiles brightly at your compliment, living for the praise as always. “Do you want some ice on the side?” He laughs as you tug on your sweater to stop it from sticking to your skin.

“Only if I can rub it all over.” You sigh jokingly as you take a sip of the hot beverage.

“I’d be happy to assist.” His smirk and piercing gaze look to be downright serious, his flirtation hitting a new high today.    

“Sorry Jimin, I already have a massage appointment later. I think Namjoon would be very upset if you took his job from him.”

“That’s too bad.” He mutters, his lip still curled into a smile before stepping away from your desk. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’d be more than willing to compensate him for his loss.” Jimin has never been shy about his attraction to you, a desire which you most certainly reciprocate, but your own company policies keep the both of you tied to flirtatious word play. With Jimin winning more often than not when it comes to provocative sentiments.

He hangs around on your side of the room, straightening the chairs and stray flies, while you continue your search for whatever prompted the need for your haste meeting. At last you find it, on the featured articles of a prominent celeb news site, with the headline reading, ‘The Dark Desires of the Kim Family Heir.’

Much to your chagrin the issue isn’t regarding your client, but his son. As much as you try to stay out of personal family matters, sometimes they are unavoidable, and this looks to be one of those cases.

‘Kim Taehyung has long been considered one of the most eligible bachelors. He has it all, money, power, and a spot on every top ten most attractive list, but those who have been with him more intimately say he craves something more...’ 

Your mouth falls open in horror as one of Taehyung's former partners exposes their most intimate moments with him. ‘The Gucci suits and custom cologne are just an expensive mask for the darkness beneath. He would ask to be tied, bound to the bed and struck. He wanted pain and pleasure...’ The further you read the more your chest tightens. You’d rather not jump to conclusions, but you wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. A fact which must make it all the more painful for Taehyung. You can only imagine what he must be going through, to have such private details exposed and exploited. He’s currently living your worst nightmare, a societal judgement over one's deepest desires. For professional reasons it would probably be best to stay out of this private matter, but you can’t in good consciousness let him suffer alone.

“That bad?” Jimin asks.

“Yeah...” You cover your mouth to hide your shuddering breath, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill on Taehyung's behalf.

Jimin shuffles in behind your desk with you. By lowering himself to read off your screen, his face falls next to yours. His hands come to rest on your shoulders as he leans in to eye the article in question. You should shoo him away, but you can’t help but be curious of his response to those who engage in such practices. As his eyes scan the page his grip on you tightens, his breathing erratic just like yours, with a whispered “‘Fuck,” escaping his lips. 

“Are we interrupting something?” A voice calls out from your open door. 

Your head snaps over in shock to find your next appointment waiting for you, with his son in tow. You jump up pushing Jimin back so you can greet your guests properly. “Mr. Kim! No not at all,  please come in. This must be-”

“Taehyung...” The younger man mutters as he walks in, slumping down in one of the chairs in front of your desk. His sunglasses are still in place, the smell of spirits wafts over you along with the spicy scent of what must be his referenced cologne. He’s a sight to behold, a person of his caliber could make a fortune off his looks alone; he wouldn’t even need a drop of his father's fortune. But of course, that would have been before this public outing of his bedroom tendencies. Now he’s more likely to be seen as a pariah rather than an asset.

Directing the elder to the seat next to him, you take your own once again as Jimin retreats to his desk. You don’t even have the chance to exchange pleasantries before Mr. Kim launches into the purpose of their visit. “I assume you saw the article about my son?”

“I did, but-”

“And? What can we do about it? How can we spin it? Our stocks have already taken a hit.”

“Your son just had a serious breach in personal privacy...” You pause hoping that he’ll have some semblance of a realization that he is not the victim here, instead he simply waits for you to continue. Attempt to hold in your dismay, you give him the only answer you can, “Sue for defamation if you’d like, but whether they are printing fact or fiction the damage is done. The press is still focusing on your family due to your early misdealings in your company. I would argue that if you turn the view of operations around then there is a very good chance that the media will start to back off personal affairs.”

“You can’t expect me to twiddle my thumbs and wait. My shareholders are currently questioning his ability to lead, they might seek to replace him.”

“Good.” Taehyung mutters. “If those prudes have a problem with me, I’d rather not have to work with them.”

You bite your lip to conceal a snort of laughter.  Mr. Kim fails to notice but his son seems to have caught your slip, taking off his glasses, he pierces you with a strong gaze.

Kim senior starts up again looking for sympathy and a way out, “Do you know how many of his flings I’ve had to pay off in the past-”

“Maybe you should just stick to your own business.” Taehyung eyes his father darkly.

“They made it my business when they started squealing to the press about what kind of man you are.”

You try to rein the situation in, this battle between father and son having no place in your office. “Mr. Kim! I would actually like to speak to your son for a moment. We can see if there’s a possible remedy for this... exposure.” You stand up, calling over the wall for your secretary "Jimin? Would you mind taking Mr. Kim to see Hoseok?” You turn back to your elder client, practically pushing him out the door into your secretaries’s care. “Jung Hoseok has been continuing his work on your company's philanthropic efforts. I’m sure he would love to show you what he has done with your portfolio.”

“Do you need me to come right back Miss?” Jimin asks with a pleading stare, his eyes flicker over to the young man still slumped in his seat.

“No I think we’ll be okay for a bit.” You mutter to him quietly as Mr. Kim proceeds down the hall. “Just keep him away for a few minutes.”

Once they're both gone you sit back down across from Taehyung with a sigh.

“So are your going to talk some sense into me?” He drawls with disdain.

“Fuck no,” you scoff, rummaging through your drawer. “Can I get you anything coffee, water... advil?”  You finally pull out the bottle of pain relievers and offer one to him as you take one yourself, your head ready to explode in frustration over his father. 

He tilts his head looking somewhat surprised, “So why did you send him away then?”

“I thought you could use a break. I’ve worked with many people like your father, they all want things done their way, and you’ll never be able to tell them otherwise. He’ll never admit to his faults, and the fact that he’s the real reason the media is all over you. So as long as you don’t tattle on me, we both can make it through this meeting with him thinking that he’s won.”

“Deal,” Taehyung agrees while he chuckles at your ploy. 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” You offer once again.

“Actually I’ll take some advil.”

“I thought you might.” You poor him glass from the cooler and offer up the pill. When his sleeve pulls back to reach for the cup you can’t help but notice the glaring red evidence of a rope abrasion on his wrist. While he throws back the pain killer, you take another sip of your coffee rolling the bitterness over your tongue before breaching the difficult subject. “It can’t be easy to have the press prying into every aspect of your private life.”

“It’s not so much that they pry, but...” Taehyung hesitates, his brow furrows as his fingers run through his hair tugging on the strands between his fingers.  “People know that they can go to them with a story and make money off any relations I have with them. And the press will gladly pay top dollar for what they have to offer.”

“The story is not a complete fabrication then?” You already know it’s not judging from his father's response and the marks on his arm, you just need to hear him say it. 

“No, it’s mostly true.” He admits, watching your reaction.

“Then it would seem that your desires might be thought unconventional by many of your past partners?”

Taehyung nods, taking another sip of his water. 

“From one unconventional individual to another,” you pause waiting for your own admission to sink in. To your delight Taehyung immediately perks up listening attentively as you continue. “There are more discreet ways to fill those needs.”

“Are you offering?” He asks, raising a brown along with the corner of his lips.

“No, I doubt that I would be very good at meeting your cravings, since we both hunger the same type of... attention.” You smile back at him, rejoicing in your mutual secret. “But I do have a friend who will take very good care of you. I’m going to give you a name and phone number, it’s up to you if you want to contact them, but I can assure you any conversations or actions between you and them will be kept strictly confidential. It’s not cheap,” you explain, but doubt that’ll be a problem for him. “But I assure you it’s safe and private.”

Taehyung can barely get the information from you fast enough once you jot it down. His hands, reaching for the sheet, accidentally knock over your coffee instead, sending the drink in your direction and staining your sweater. “I’m so sorry, here let me help you.” Taehyung jumps up and runs and grabs napkins from the coffee station. 

“It’s fine really.” You assure him, making an attempt to stop him as he starts to blot the saturated material. 

Unfortunately it’s at this moment that Jimin walks in to see your precarious state. He stands there for a moment in silence before explaining the reason for his return. “Mr. Kim said he needs to leave soon, Miss. He wanted to see if you two were... finished.” There’s glare set in his eyes for Taehyung's forwardness.

“Yeah, be right there, just one second.” You turn back to Taehyung, exchanging the damp napkin in his hand for the paper you had just written on. “Think about it, I hope you’ll give him a call. I don’t give out his information unless I think it will be of help to someone.”

“Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung mutters quietly while reading the slip. “If I were to go see him, would I find you there too?” He looks back up at you, biting his lip after posing his query.

“Likely not, he keeps his sessions very private, but you can always discuss your...” You glance over to Jimin who is still waiting, and well within earshot. “Preferences with him.”

“Then I’ll consider it, thank you.”

After seeing Mr. Kim and his son off, you're left to deal with the stain on your sweater, with only fifteen minutes before you have to leave for your lunch appointment. “Jimin could you call Yoongi and let him know I’m running a little late? I need to stop by my apartment on the way.”

“No need, I’ve got an extra shirt here.” He pulls out one of his own from his desk. “ I know it’s a men’s fit, but I think we can make it work.” 

“Why do you keep that here?” You laugh. He only looks at you and the stain with a raised brow, no words needed to prove his point. “Never mind, stupid question, but I can’t take your shirt Jimin.”

“I insist, go put it on.” He forces it into your hands as you double check your watch, your time constraints leaving you with little choice. 

Stepping behind the dividing wall, you strip down to your camisole, breathing a sigh of relief that the beverage hadn’t seeped into the fabric of the corset. Quickly throwing his button up over top and tucking it in, you check to ensure your intimate garment is still hidden relatively beneath the shirt before coming back out for his opinion “Does it look okay?”

Jimin nods, but when he reaches out to touch the shirt you recoil, fearing that he will discover what you wear beneath. He chuckles and persists, “I’m just fixing your collar.” He moves in closer standing just a couple inches away. Pinching the two seams of the fabric together, he considers the change. “I think it would look better like this.” You nod, keeping silent as he follows through. Pulling the fabric tight around your throat, your breathing is forced to pause for a moment as he fastens the top button. “Better?” He asks, while his hands linger around your neck.

“Much.” You whisper, as his fingers drift up to hold your chin, with the tip of his thumb dragging along the edge of your bottom lip. You stand there confused as to why your flirtatious game has taken such a physical turn. Although his actions are prohibited and should be censured, you can’t fully condemn them, deciding instead to remove yourself, rather than reprimand him. “I-I should go. I don’t want to be late meeting Yoongi.”  

...

It was a productive lunch to say the least, but that was by no means thanks to you. Your focus was distinctly elsewhere. While you toyed with your bottom lip, thinking of how Jimin had touched it just moments before, Yoongi gave you everything you needed to secure several new clients. Even now as you return, disembarking the elevator on to your floor, you still can’t concentrate on the day ahead.

On the walk back to your office Hoseok catches you, quickly pulling you into his own and closing the door behind. “You need to do something about Jimin.” 

“Wh-what do you mean?” You ask, nervous that he had seen you two together before you left for your meeting.

“Your client earlier, Mr. Kim, he said that he caught you two acting rather close, making suggestions that you two are involved in a sexual relationship. Usually I would disregard a comment like his but-” 

“It’s not true, you know I wouldn’t!” As much as you might want to act on Jimin’s advances you’ve never crossed that line. You know it must have been bad for Hoseok to bring it up, for him to take this serious tone is evidence of his deep concern. 

“I know that, but this isn’t the first time someone has thought you two might be a little too intimate. Some of the staff have also considered the notion. And I can see why, the way he looks at you, talks to you...” Hoseok trails off as his eyes linger on your apparel in confusion. “You weren’t wearing that earlier were you?” 

“No, I had some coffee spill on me earlier. Jimin was nice enough to loan me his.”

Hoseok tilts his head as he raises his brow as if this validates his concerns.

“He was just being helpful!” You offer, but Hoseok doesn’t look to be swayed, and he’s right, this is a workplace not a morning after situation. “Fine, I see your point. So what do you suggest?”

“Redistribute him, send him my way if you have to, god knows that I could use the extra hand. You could even play it off as a promotion, just get him out of your office.” Your heart drops at the thought, not wanting to give him up. Hoseok seeing this takes a softer tone. “Listen I can see that you like him too. I’m sure it feels good to have his attention, but you need to get this out of your system. You have to put a stop to it. We can’t afford a scandal and you know it.” 

With the assurance that you’ll think on the issue, and giving Hoseok your solution by tomorrow, you return to your office. But the problem is far from easy, though you did not lie about your physical relationship to Hoseok, you have been keeping something from him. From all of them. Jimin will never accept a promotion if it takes him away from you. He’s never worked here for the money, he doesn’t need to when his father owns half of the city, this building included. 

...

-3 years ago-

“Mr. Lee, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me.” You pull out the chair to sit across from him. The massive mahogany desk of his placing a rather large distance between the two of you. 

“Yes well, my building manager said you were very persistent.” There’s a small roll in his eyes as he looks from you down to the computer in front of him. 

“I wanted to discuss one of your properties, an office space in the Madeline Suites.”

He takes a swift glance at your modest appearance with narrowing eyes. “Forgive me, but I believe that location might be out of your price range.” 

“Monetarily yes,” You agree. “But we offer services which might be helpful to you.”

“I do not deal in favours. I can see that this meeting was a waste of time, you may go.” He waves the back of his hand to shoo you out, while his secretary grabs the door from the outside.

“I am not asking for a favour, but offering you my services. I’m the co-founder of a corporate image consulting firm. And come this time tomorrow, I believe you’ll be looking for someone within our realm of dealings.”

“And what makes you say that?” Lee asks, his words laced with cynicism. 

You lay out the first page of the article which Yoongi had sent you, stretching it across the wooden surface to place it in Mr. Lee’s view. ‘Real Estate Developer Lee Gungsang Faced Prior Allegations of Unlawful Evictions and Price Hiking.’ “This is slated for tomorrow morning’s front page.” 

Mr. Lee is quick to send his secretary off, the door shutting once again. “How do you know about this? These cases were settled before they made it anywhere near the courts.”

“I have my sources.” 

“Then stop this! I will pay whomever needs to be paid to prevent this from leaching out. You want the office space, it's yours.” He’s voice is desperate, you have him on the hook, the question now is, how long will he let you drag him for?

“That’s very generous of you, but nothing will stop this from going out tomorrow. My offer is simply to help you get ahead of it and lessen the damage.” You explain, revelling in the fact that money can’t hide everything.

“And how do you propose to do that?”

You pull out a contract for your serves. “I will need you to sign off on my services first. A small fee plus a far more reasonable price for a three year lease of the offices on the 14th floor of the Madeline Suites”

“Without knowing your plan, I think not.”

You give him a bright smile before mimicking his earlier statement. “I do not deal in favours Mr. Lee.”

He grumbles while taking the pen, eyeing you with a dark gaze as he signs on the dotted line.

With the ink still drying you hand over another small document. “Here are a few of my suggestions. Twenty percent of the commercial residences that you have just vacated will be handed over to non-profits for a drastically reduced monthly lease. I’ll even let you pick which you want to support.” 

He looks up at you mortified. “This is excessive.”

“No this is necessary. I’ve seen corporations do far more than this when they are not dealing with a scandal. Your accountants will agree with me that this is the best move, it can be seen as a donation and therefore tax deductible. For the evicted  private residences, I was thinking of partnering with a refugee resettlement program but we can discuss that more in depth later.” 

You carefully tuck away your contract in Lee’s file before dragging another concern to the forefront. “I do have one more request, before I leave today.”

“What more could you possibly want?” He scoffs.

You lean in to deliver your short but important demand. “A heads up.”

“I don’t know what you mean...”

“I mean if there are any other past dealings or actions which might impact your company I need to be aware of them.” There’s always more hidden in the dark, you have one of those secrets on hand now. You need to see if he’s willing to be upfront with you on every dealing of his past, otherwise you might be forced to dig him out from another grave a couple weeks from now. 

“There’s nothing else.” 

“Nothing?” You ask again as you pull out your phone ready to bring forward more evidence. 

“No.”

“So the knowledge of you having and hiding an illegitimate son... you don’t think that’s important? The existence of the only child of the Lee empire, isn’t newsworthy?”

“How did you-” The terror in his face looks to be even greater than the prior accusation. 

“You attempted to evict all of the residents who stayed in your residential apartment for over 10 years if they refused to agree with a massive lease hike. Park Jimin was the only one who wasn’t touched. He has no record of a job, living off what must be money given to him by his parents, so I looked into them. His father wasn’t listed but his late mother, Park Haesoon, used to work for your company, and 22 years ago she signed a NDA issued by your lawyer.” 

You open to Jimin’s public instagram page turning it around for his father to see. “He may take mostly after his mother, but I can still see a few clues to your family resemblance.”

“When does this one drop?” Lee asks in dismay.

“It’s not going to, at least, not from me or my source. We try not to deal in personal life consulting, but I am going to give you some advice in this matter. Get ahead of it.”

“My wife won’t hear of it.” Mr. Lee mutters through clenched teeth, it’s easy to see that this conversation has him very much on edge.

You nod seeing the crux of his dilemma. “I looked into the approximate date of his conception, you were newly married at the time, were you not?”

“Yes. She knows, but her family does not, they have a large political presence and we cannot afford to lose all support from them. Trust me, the boy is not worth the risk.”

“He’s your child!” You berate the CEO, your anger getting the better of you as you think of the emotional toll on Jimin. Not only did he lose his mother but his father won't even publicly acknowledge him. 

“I won’t be swayed on this matter. If you have nothing else to say you may leave.” Mr. Lee rises from his desk and once again gestures towards the door. “I’ll have keys to your new office space delivered to you tomorrow along with the lease. But I should warn you, if there is even a whisper of his name in public in conjunction with mine, I can assure you, your so-called firm won’t last another week.”

...

Less than a month later you and Hoseok have moved your entire enterprise to the new office space. You’re holding an open house for several different staff positions, when the most unlikely of applicants walks in your door, Park Jimin. 

He hands you a piece of paper which you can only guess is his resume, because your eyes fail to leave his face, your mouth unable to form words in your state of shock. Closing the door behind him, he gives you a nervous smile. “Judging from your expression, I take it you know who I am?”

You manage a single nod, still confused as to why he’s here, now, with you. It’s lucky you’re conducting the interviews alone, otherwise it would be difficult to explain your shock to Hoseok without exposing Jimin’s lineage. 

“I’ve been wanting to meet with you,” Jimin confesses, adding sheepishly, “My father told me of your meeting. He said you took a bit of an interest in me, even found my social media accounts.” 

“Oh, oh no.” You finally manage to sputter out, far more anxious with the younger man than his father. You never intended to meet Jimin, let alone have him find out you dug into some very personal aspects of his past and present. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to invade your privacy. I was only trying to figure out what was going on. And when I learned the truth, I wanted him to own up to his mistake of hiding you.”

Jimin chuckles lightly, sitting down in front of you, “I didn’t come here looking for an apology Miss, I know why you did it. I merely wanted to meet one of the few people to ever successfully scare the shit out of my father.” 

The wide beaming smile accompanying his statement spurs a laugh from you, while also allowing you to relax in his presence. “Sometimes you have to intimidate these people to get them to do the right thing. But I’m sorry I wasn’t able to convince him to go public regarding everything.”

“That’s not your fault. In the end it was just nice to hear that there's someone who thinks I deserve better.” Jimin adds, with a look of sorrow leaching into his smile.

“Of course you do, but I must ask, why come here now?” You take a moment to confirm that it is in fact his resume that he’s handed you. ”I can’t imagine that you need a job.” He’s appearance alone is enough to tell you he’s buried in wealth, though his father has not given him the family name, it looks as if Jimin has gained some of the assets.  

“Actually that’s exactly what I was looking for.”

“Your father didn’t pressure you to come here to keep an eye on me did he?” You ask with scepticism. Keeping watch over possible threats wouldn’t be a completely off brand for those of his status. And with you knowing some of his deepest secrets you could likely be considered one of the biggest risks.

“No.” Jimin chuckles, briefly raising his hands in surrender. “I promise I’m here of my own volition. Money isn’t my biggest concern, I’ve been hoping to build connections. I want to use my time wisely and work with someone who is worthy of my focus, and that just so happens to be you.” He finishes with a suggestive smirk, making you wonder if you’ve won his affection too. 

“And what does your focus get me?” You ask, trying to weigh the benefits versus the risk. You doubt that Mr. Lee will respond kindly to you hiring his son, but if he continues to deny his son’s  existence then what right does he have to disagree? 

“Anything you require. I was interested in the posting for your secretary, but any position beneath you would suit me nicely.” 

...

There’s no way you’ll be able to convince Jimin to willingly change roles and work for Hoseok instead. But you can’t deny that your co-founder’s points are valid. 

Jimin greets you warmly as you enter your office. “Did you have a nice lunch?” 

“Yeah, it was good.” You respond, forcing out a smile.

“Really? Because you look upset.” 

You curse Jimin’s ability to read you at a time like this. “I promise, lunch was fine. Yoongi gave me some substantial leads.” You sigh sliding back in your seat. With your values shaken and morals questioned by Hoseok, you are deeply in need of someone to brace yourself on. Wanting to step out of the realm of responsibility and control even if it’s just for a moment, you make a request to Jimin. “Would you go fetch Jungkook for our meeting?”

“I can just call him in.” He makes the case looking reluctant to leave your side.

“Please Jimin just go get him. I need a few minutes for a personal call.”

Jimin looks at you crestfallen before finally leaving. It’s not often you keep things from him, he can scope you out too well for that. But Kim Namjoon’s actual role in your life is the one secret you feel is the most imperative to hide from him.

You pull out your cell, not wanting to use his number on your work phone. After two rings he picks up. “Couldn’t wait a few more hours to hear my voice baby girl?”

You're too embarrassed to admit he’s right, settling on another excuse for your call. “N-no I just wanted to let you know that I’ve sent someone your way... sir.”

“Don’t lie to me I can hear the need in your voice.” He chuckles lightly as he taunts you. “Your reference already reached out to me. I’m excited to play with him, is he just as handsome as he sounds?”

“More so.”

Namjoon hums on the line in gratification. “My babygirl, giving me another pet to play with.” 

You blush from the praise. Taehyung makes the sixth person you’ve suggested following the charity ball you met Namjoon at a couple years ago. Where he, much like you, was secretly scoping out potential clients. Every one of those patrons you’ve given him since then has been his pet, but you, you’re his babygirl. 

“I was wondering...” Namjoon’s carries on, in a tone far more hesitant than usual. “Tonight would you be willing to try something a little unconventional? Would you like to share him?”

“W-would that be okay?” He’s never suggested adding another to your sessions before, but you can’t deny you’re intrigued by the prospect.

“He mentioned an interest in you, and after discussing his needs I feel that I require someone other than myself to pin his desires on. You’ll be the carrot while I’ll be the stick. Do you think you could do that for me?”  Namjoon proposes in a low purr dragging every heated thought and possibility to the forefront of your mind.  

“Yes sir.” Your response is instant, with little thought required. Helping Namjoon with Taehyung? You’d be a fool to turn down the opportunity. There’s a small knock on your office door with the return of Jimin and Jungkook trailing behind him. You start to panic while still on the phone with Namjoon. “I’ll see you later then?”

Namjoon can of course detect the change in your tone, but instead of letting you off the hook he pulls you further. “Did someone walk in on you babygirl? I take it they don’t know about this side of you?”

“No they don’t.”

“No sir.” He calls out your lack of decorum, an error which you know you’ll pay for later. “Such a shame they’re missing out. What do you think they would say if they knew of my plans for you tonight? How I intend to hang you like forbidden fruit above another man. Do you think they would approve?” 

Your eyes widen as Namjoon continues and Jungkook takes the seat in front of you with Jimin standing behind him. You clear your throat and hold up your finger to them, gesturing for another minute. Turning away to hide your face as you continue to try and end the call. But hanging up on one’s dom is never advisable, condemning you to listen for as long as he wishes to torment. 

“I bet you would like them watch, wouldn’t you?” Namjoon asks, egging on your sinful thoughts, transferring them from Taehyung over to your co-workers.

You shift your thighs trying to dispel the building need as you consider the notation of them watching. Imagining Jungkook’s wide eyes taking in the sight, likely with a hand on his cock, he’s an innocent man with strong desires. You’ve known others like him before, they act with naivete but when confronted with an opportunity for more, they don’t hesitate to gorge on what is presented to them.

And Jimin, would he accept your darker needs? You wish he would, desperately wanting him to play along, to help mould you into submission. Your head now filled with thoughts of kneeling before him taking him in your mouth while he christens you a good girl. If only you could be sure that he wouldn’t react like most people, like those who condemned Taehyung. Your eyes flutter back over to your secretary who is looking at you with deep suspicion. You desperately need to end the call or risk giving yourself away. “I should probably-”

“Am I embarrassing you baby girl?” Namjoon teases with an amused laugh. “Does that mean I’m right?”

“Yes...”

“Yes sir.” Namjoon reminds you once again. “I’ll release you for now, but I better see you here at seven o’clock sharp. Is that understood?”

You breathe a sigh of relief at the release.  “Yes sir.” After finally hanging up, you offer up an apology. “Sorry about that.”

“Who was it?” Jimin inquires with a soft tone, but  a quick lick to his lips shows his intentions to be far from innocent. His clenched fists and hovering nature further pointing towards jealousy.

“No one important.” You smile through the lie, careful in your attempt to comfort him. It’s pointless to keep acting in this way, but you still can’t bear the thought of disheartening his feelings or pushing him away. 

...

After your meeting with Jungkook, you're left with a stack of paperwork and your ever persistent lack of concentration as you try to figure out what can be done with Jimin. Should you just tell him the issue, would it help or would it make the situation worse? If he knows how he is perceived then will the affection stop, and if it does, will you struggle with that loss?

“Can I walk you to your car Miss?” Jimin asks with his jacket in hand. You check the time, reading just after five. So lost in thought you had accomplished almost nothing in the last few hours of the day.

“I think I might just stay here until I have to leave for my appointment, I still have a bit more work to do.” You explain rubbing your hands over your face as you pull yourself from your daze.

“Do you want me to stay too then?” 

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you. But before you go I’d like to discuss something” You gesture to the seat across from you which he takes with hesitation. You’re usually not so formal and he can clearly spot the difference. You open your mouth and pause trying to find the right words as his eyes shine in your direction. The evening sun pouring into the room bathing his skin in with golden light makes it so much harder to stick to the issue at hand. You eventually resort to staring at the irrelevant papers on your desk as you open with your concern. 

“I’m worried that our actions towards each other imply that our relationship is not strictly professional.” You blurt it out quickly, hating every word that crosses your lips.

“Have I been making you uncomfortable Miss?” Jimin’s expression falls along with his question, the heartbreak ringing out clear in his voice. 

“No, no. It’s just, I’m concerned about how others see our interactions.”

“Oh, so someone said something to you then?” 

“Hoseok mentioned that a few people think we appear to be a bit more than boss and secretary.” You know it cowardly to bring Hoseok into this, but the information is second hand. You can’t be sure what others have said exactly.

“Well you do know more about me than most.” Jimin laughs lightly. 

“That’s not what they are implying. They think we are engaged in a sexual relationship.”

“And...” He draws the word out as if the implication is nothing, implying there should be a better reason for your concerns. 

“We aren’t Jimin!”

“Well, there's only one way to fix that.” He stands up leaning towards you over your desk. “You can’t say you haven’t thought about it. We could keep it a secret if you’d like, no one has to know.”

You doubt Jimin could keep a relationship between the two of you hidden, with the way he dotes on you already, you’re one passionate night away from finding three dozen roses on your desk. “Someone would find out, and the fall out-”

“Fuck the fall out,” Jimin states with resolve, reaching out his fingers tucking back a strand of your hair before curling beneath your chin. “I’m tired of this charade. Hoseok only said something because he’s jealous. He’s jealous that you want me as much as I want you.”

“Jimin,” You whisper. “Even if that was the case, that still doesn’t make it right.” You pull back from his touch. “You should go. Think about what I said, because if we can’t maintain at least some level of restraint and professionalism... then you might be better off working for someone else in the office.”

“So you’d rather keep your social image than be happy with me?” Jimin accuses, the usual warmth having completely vanished from his face.

“It’s not like that. My standing is my life, it’s my career, any blemish would destroy everything I have.” You attempt to express the fear inside you, the weight that bears on you every day. You already have so many secrets and liabilities, but one as close and extensive as a relationship with him might finally crush you and everything you’ve built. “I like you, I really do, but I can’t take the risk. You have to understand, I’m not like you. I don’t have a secret trust fund to fall back on.”  

Jimin looks as though you’ve stabbed him, pulling away he heads to the exit. “I’m sorry I’m not worth the risk. You know, I thought you were better than that, but it would seem you’re just like everyone else.” 

The door slamming between you echoes through the office as you sag in your chair. Never in all your years have you ever sunk so low. By taking him on you wanted to ensure Jimin’s happiness, to show him his value despite the lack of acknowledgement  from his father, but now it seems you’ve fallen into the same role as those who have hurt him before.

  ...

You type your code into Namjoon’s door, stepping into his hall quickly and shutting the door behind you. It’s just before seven and usually you find him in his living room already waiting, but today it’s empty. Not wanting to disturb him, you take a seat on the couch and wait patiently for him to join you. 

You feel ready to fold in on yourself as you continue to dwell on your argument with Jimin. If you laid out boundaries earlier you likely wouldn’t be where you are now. Hating yourself over his confession, and your inability to accept it. 

There’s movement from the bedroom door as Namjoon’s partner Seokjin comes out to greet you. You look up in bewilderment as he takes your hand, pulling you off the couch. “Namjoon has already started with the other client, so he sent me to fetch you.” 

You nod understanding Namjoon’s divergence from the norm, it wouldn’t be safe practice for him to leave Taehyung alone in a precarious position. Now looking to the door with curiosity, you’re excited by what lustful visions will greet you on the other side. But when Seokjin presents something to you it’s clear that you won’t get to see those sights.

“You’ve been asked to wear this.” He holds out a wide silken strip, one that Namjoon has used as a blindfold in the past. You allow Seokjin to cover your eyes, with a touch far more gentle than you know Namjoon’s to be. You don’t want kindness, craving instead to be broken in by the man in the other room, especially after the damage you’ve done today. The loss of your vision will have to be punishment enough for the time being. 

“Does he want me to undress too?” You ask, touching the silk over your eyes, you're completely blind and already longing for the next step. 

“No he wishes to save that pleasure for himself.”

You smirk thinking he might, you’ve been wearing his gift all day it’s only right that he gets to see it first.  

There’s a knock and a click of the door before Seokjin takes you in hand again, leading you in. The air is warmer and heavier than that of the living room, making it impossible to draw a fresh breath. 

Seokjin pushes down on your shoulder, a wordless order to kneel. The plush carpet meeting your knees as you lower yourself, if only you could reach out to get a better sense of what’s in front of you, but form dictates that you keep your hands on your lap. 

The bedroom door closes, signalling Seokjin's departure. Sending one last wave of clean air before you're smothered once again. Locked away for the night with your master and his new pet. There’s a small creek from the mattress and the familiar rattle of restraints against the bedpost. You can just barely make out the tone of Namjoon’s low whisper as he speaks to the current tenant of the bed. 

Footsteps land to your left, muffled by the wall to wall but still sending vibrations through the floor.  As Namjoon approaches, your heart pounds wondering what his first move against you will be. He takes his sweet time letting the anticipation build as your chest continues to heave in its attempts to take in the thick air. You keep your posture, maintaining your stance with the knowledge that he will inspect you. Head lowered, hands on thighs, perched on your toes as your knees dig into the ground. Your legs soon start to tremble as your feet strain to bear the weight.

Namjoon settles right in front of you, the slow draw of his breath reaches your ears, while the heat of his exhale hits your face. A hand trails up the outside of your thigh stilling the tremor in your legs with a forceful grip. You freeze wondering if your jitters will cost you, you can’t let him find fault not if you want him to reward you with his presence. 

But as he takes your chin tightly between his index and his thumb, you know you're in the clear. He tilts your head up as you breathe a sigh of relief. “Such a good girl, setting the perfect example.” His fingers slide down petting the column of your throat with a firm touch. “I was so happy to receive your picture this morning, did you wear the gift all day as ordered?”

“Yes sir.” You pant back, eager for him to see for himself. 

“It wasn’t too hard for you then, to go so long in such a confined state?”

“No sir.”

“Good girl,” He purrs in your ear as he starts unfastening your shirt. He hesitates on the buttons for a moment. “Babygirl, would you care to tell me why you're wearing a men’s shirt?”

You swallow not wanting to admit that it’s the fault of the man currently lying in his bed. You plan to take the fall, wanting Namjoon’s undivided attention even if it’s in the form of a punishment. “I spilled something on mine sir.”  

“So clumsy.” He has the shirt completely off now revealing the corset for him and likely Taehyung to see. Namjoon helps you to stand, unzipping your skirt he pushes it to the floor. You feel so helpless without your sight but Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind assisting. He uses the soft fabric of the shirt to dab at the sweat beading on your skin. “Who, may I ask, clothed you in theirs? Such an expensive label, he must think highly of you.”

You shift in place, made uncomfortable by your inability to answer. Knowing if you say his name thoughts of him will be summoned to your mind. You don’t deserve to think of him at such a time, not after you led him on and left him dry.

“You don’t wish to tell me?” The feel of Namjoon’s breath leaves you, the sounds of his feet  indicating he’s moved to the right of you. Heading to a space you know to be occupied by a table and closet full of his tools. There’s a scrap of metal and what sounds like the jingle of buckles. 

“No sir.”

“And why is that?” Fingers trail up your arm as Namjoon signals his return to your side. 

“Because I’m not allowed to have him sir.”

“A noble response.” Namjoon reasons while he wraps the leather strap of a familiar collar around your neck. “But I still plan to get that name from you before we’re done.” He buckles it swiftly checking the tightness with two fingers. You thought him finished but he progresses to cuff your wrists in leather too, tethering them together in front of you. 

He leans in again with a hushed request, “Still know your safe word?” You nod repeating is back to him before he leads you on towards the bed. 

Namjoon stands behind you as he presents you to his new pet. When you gave Taehyung Namjoon’s number you hadn’t been expecting this but you can’t deny enjoying the prospect. But you find the silence and lack of reaction from him unnerving. “I asked him not to make a sound,” Namjoon explains, “And he’s abiding by my rules so well it’s he?” 

Namjoon takes your hands helping you to feel the current state in which Taehyung is interned. A Leather cuff just like yours binds one of his wrists with a short chain leading to bedpost. You imagine that his other limbs are restricted to the other corners of the bed, for Namjoon has bound you in the same state before. 

“Can he see?” You ask Namjoon wondering if he has been left blind too, or if he’s eyes are watching you now.

“Can he see you? He can babygirl, in fact, he hasn’t looked away once, and why would he?” Namjoon sits you down on the large bed to join Taehyung before pulling down the matching underwear to your corset. “They’re so wet, have you been soaking these all day?” 

You nod in response. A delighted Namjoon makes an offer to Taehyung. “Would you like a taste pet? A reward for being so good.” Namjoon revels in his situation with a chuckle, the man beneath you must have nodded. “Then open up.” You know what a taste means for Namjoon, those panties of yours are most certainly shoved into Taehyung's mouth. He lets out a groan of satisfaction at the welcome intrusion.

Namjoon’s hands find your waist dragging you up further on to the bed with your knees now resting on the mattress. “You’re going to straddle him for me babygirl.” He shifts you over pulling up one of your legs to settle them on either side of the man beneath you. Your knees bent with your calves coming to rest against his bare hips. Without his billowy clothes he is far more slight than you expected, but his skin feels firm and toned. 

You slowly move to lower yourself knowing what you will come down on top of as you sit, but Namjoon seems to have other plans in mind. He takes your bound wrist, lifting them above your head and latching the cuffs to a chain in the rafters of the canopy bed. Once fixed in place he tests your limitations, a quick tug to show you even with your arms fully extended you are only able to lower yourself to half a kneel. You groan in frustration with the realization you can’t move any closer to the cock that rests below you. It’s just as he promised, hung like forbidden fruit above another man. Your dominant’s flare for the poetic never failing to surprise you.

“Problem babygirl?” Namjoon cooes in your ear. “Do you have something you want to say?”

“No sir.”

“Good, because if I recall you still need to be punished for your lack of formality on the phone earlier today.” 

Your stomach drops as you realize he’s going to discipline you right now, in full view of Taehyung. The heat rises to your face at the thought of being demeaned in front of another. Namjoon’s hand cups your bare ass, readying it for the assault. “You failed to call me sir twice, three for each lapse should do it.”

While the first strike eases you in, those that follow are not so gentle. The ring of his index biting your flesh with each impact. The third strike is so strong you pivot forward on your knees, your back arching as you bare forward still confined to the corset and chains. The weight of your body pulls painfully on your shoulders for a brief second, but Namjoon is there to catch you. Stopping you before you can slip and more, and propping you back in place before continuing. 

One hand lays firmly on your stomach to prevent the shift from happening again, while the other rubs the curve of your ass mapping where he should strike next. You can feel the warmth in your skin as the blood rises to the surface in reaction to his beating. Your nerves are caught in the struggle between pain and pleasure, even as the sixth and final blow lands. 

“Good girl.” Namjoon whispers his touch disappearing, as you ease down against your restraints. You hang completely by your wrists while your legs quake from the shock. Every nerve in your body feels as though it’s been left on fire with nothing to quench the flames. Leaving you to hang there for what seems like eternity.

“Sir?” You whisper in the dark as the heat continues to build inside you. Wondering where he has gone your body reacts, begging for the return of his attention with a dripping cunt. And with Taehyung below that can only mean the steady drip of your arousal is left to fall on him.

“Babygirl you’re making such a mess.” Namjoon confirms along with a groan from the man beneath you. “But he appears to be leaking too. Do you want some?” You nod eager for a taste. 

Namjoon obliges, grabbing your throat in one hand, he presses a damp finger to your lips for you to take. Your mouth latches over the offered digit, allowing the bitter fluid to sweep over your tongue. You're forced to let it sit there unable to swallow as the grip on your throat tightens, with the strap of the collar digging into your skin. Your mouth fills with saliva prompting you to close it despite your desperate need for air. 

“Does he taste good?” Namjoon wickedly possesses knowing you can barely even nod. It’s when you start to tremble that he finally releases your airway. 

You swallow quickly before letting your mouth hang open in a pant. With your lungs still restricted by the corset your breathing comes in short shuddering waves. “Yes sir, so good.”

“I think he likes having you drench him, shall we give him more?”

“Please.” You beg but Namjoon suddenly delivers a staggering blow to your backside, indicating your misstep. You’re left gasping from the sudden impact, swinging in the restraints as you try to recoil. “Please sir.” Your plea comes again this time with the proper decorum.  

There’s a crinkle of what sounds like a condom wrapper as Namjoon readies himself behind you. His fingers damp with lubrication find your back entrance, your tight hole giving way to a single finger. “You’ve been training for me like I asked?”

“Yes sir.” You almost come at the thought of it along with pleasure with the swirling digit. You’ve dabbled in anal before testing out a few toys, but a few weeks ago he sent you a plug with a tapered t-shaped end, giving you strict orders to wear it to work the following day. Unfortunately that was the date you had scheduled a meeting with your whole team. You were a flustered mess as you fought through your presentation, Jimin’s presence by your side making it so much more difficult to maintain control of your arousal . But the full day of public and torturous stimulation was worth it, for the reward that night was a call from Namjoon. His orders led you through every action of self pleasure.  Telling you when and where to touch before finally directing you to come. You’ve used the item several times on your own since, knowing your practice would help you in this moment. You wanted to make Namjoon proud and take him with little resistance. That desire now intensified with having Taehyung as an audience.

“Then you're ready to take me in front of him?” 

You nod gripping chains of the restraints as Namjoon eases into you. “Just relax.” His hands glide down your shoulders and back, coming to rest splayed across your hips, the tips of his finger root under the corset and dig into your stomach. Your grip eases as you lean back into him. “That’s it.” He mutters quietly as you stretch to accommodate him. “Good girl.”

After taking a few inches Namjoon pushes down on the front of your corset bowing the metal latches back to so they release, with a few clicks and swift presses the garment is off allowing you to breathe deeper than you have all day. 

“God you should see him babygirl, he’s so ruined by the sight of you. You have him panting for you.” You wish you could curse Namjoon for his choice to blindfold you and silence Taehyung, you would take any punishment that came of it, but all you can muster is a gasp while he continues to fill you more. “I wonder how he’ll react,” One of Namjoon’s hands leaves your hips coming to rest with something soft against your aching clit. “When he sees you come.” With a click the object vibrates, throwing you back completely onto Namjoons cock from the shock.

You catch Namjoon’s lustful groan between your cries. He starts to thrust inside of you one hand gripping your chest while the other holds the vibrate down in place despite your bucking hips. It doesn’t take long for you to completely fold. As the heat inside you finally reaches its peak you shatter, your head falling back on Namjoon’s shoulder as you convulse and moan. With nothing for your cunt to clench your legs grip the trussed man between them. He too lets out a sinful groan as the fluids from your fold continue to drip down your legs meet his adjoining skin. 

Namjoon turns the device off and slips out, the bed shifts as he moves in front of you. When his hand cups your face you lean into his touch. “You okay?”

You nod hoping he’ll be lenient with your lack of speech. You hear him whisper as he checks in with Taehyung too. “I’m going to take these now.” Namjoon must finally be freeing him from the waded underwear of yours.

Namjoon’s hands find you again, playing with the arousal dripping down your legs as he drags his fingers up to the source. A finger grazes your folds slipping between without penetrating. You pull desperately against your restraints hoping that it might find its way inside.  

“So are you going to tell me who you’re not allowed to have?” Namjoon asks again. “Or do I have to let you hang here all night?” 

“My secretary...” You give in with a  whisper, hoping that Taehyung won’t hear.

“And what’s his name? Say it and I’ll give you what you want.” 

The deal is too good for you to resist, you last only a couple more seconds before finally giving in. Crying out, “Jimin,” as two of Namjoon’s fingers breach you. Your sopping slit squelching as he curls his fingers. 

“There it is.” Namjoon sighs, his other hand brushing your cheek. “Is he the reason you’re so worked up tonight babygirl?”

“Y-yes sir.” You stutter as his fingers continue. He gives you another minute of bliss before removing his digits. 

“You’re going to do something for me, okay?” Namjoon asks. You nod as he continues to hold your face. “That man between your legs, you are going to fuck him and imagine Jimin as you do so, is that clear?” 

“Yes sir.”

“Is that okay with you pet?” He asks the other occupant, who still remains silent with his answers. The sound of another condom wrapper, comes as your confirmation.  Taehyung lets out an unexpected high pitched whine, likely due to the pressure that comes with the latex being rubbed down his shaft. You’re already so invested in the lie that he’s even starting to sound like Jimin. 

Namjoon is once again behind you. You can hear the rattle of the length of chain that holds you up and as he sinks back into you, his cock slipping in far easier this time, your body gladly welcomes the fullness of his intrusion.  He then lowers you inch by inch, with little strength left in your legs you are relying only on the restraints and Namjoon to hold you up. After gaining a bit more freedom you can feel the tip of a cock brushing up against you. Namjoon’s arm comes to rest on your thigh as he lines the erection up for you to take it inside. It’s a slow descent, as you stretch to accommodate both of them. Your thankful Namjoon’s mercy for easing you down gradually. 

When you bottom out Namjoon pulls the chain down from the rafters he releases the length from your cuffs, but rather than discarding it he attaches it to your collar, tugging on it as if it’s a leash. Though your hands are still bound together you have the freedom to rest them on the man laying down in front of you. You take pleasure in dragging the tips of your fingers across his skin, feeling his abs flex and his cock twitch inside you as you do so. 

Namjoon starts to thrust, keeping a close hold on your collar. While he pushes you are sent up and down on what you desperately want to be Jimin’s thick cock. After a few thrusts you are shoved forward entirely by Namjoon, colliding with the man beneath you. Your chest is pushed into his, as your bound hands are pinned between the two of you. While your head is left to rest on his shoulder, the tip of your nose is able to graze his neck. As you breathe in your mind continues to play tricks, the smell coming off him mimics that of the cologne your secretary wears, rather than the scent of Taehyung. 

Namjoon must have unbound his legs as they bend up to cradle your own from behind his hips bucking into yours, with both men taking you at a steady pace.

You move in closer to his neck, with a lick you taste the salt of his skin showing  your intentions. Biting down on the spot, you suck in deeply as your teeth dig in even harder. The carnal groans you receive from him sending shivers to your spine. There’s the sound of a soft slap, Namjoon didn’t hit you, but the man beneath you returns to his ordered silence.

Namjoon thrusts even harder, pushing you into his chest repeatedly. The thought of being fucked into Jimin’s embrace is too much to bear. Your cunt clenches as you continue envisioning your secretary, and how you're grinding your clit against his pelvis. 

You cry out over the swelling girths inside you, knowing their both likely to come soon. Clenching down one last time you dissolve in the pleasure and contentment. Namjoon finishes first remaining inside while his pet comes too. He leaves you there laying upon your imagined Jimin, in your daze  you can barely move let alone focus on reality. With a wave of exhaustion you start to slip from consciousness, but not before one last praise reaches your ears. Your delirium grants you the satisfaction of hearing the voice of Jimin whisper, “Good girl.”

...

You can’t remember the last time you slept so well. You woke early to find Namjoon had taken care of you in the night, he released your wrist cuffs, and removed your blindfold, after you had passed out from the physical exertion. The only restraint to remain was your collar which he asked you to wear today. Taehyung was sadly already gone, but you can’t deny it was nice to have Namjoon to yourself before you left. 

Now as you head off to work, showered and freshly dressed, with a turtleneck hiding your gift, you check your phone for the first time. Finding a string of apologetic messages sent from Jimin in the early hours of the morning. You reply apologizing too and asking to revisit the subject as soon as you get into work. Thankfully he agrees, the smiling emoji he ends his text on sends a wave of relief through you.

You step in the front entrance of your building ready to handle and objectively listen to Jimin’s thoughts and concerns. While you wait for the elevator your phone vibrates listing a call from an unknown number. “Hello?”

“Hey it’s Taehyung. Hope you don’t mind, I stole your personal number from my father.”

“Taehyung...” Heat starts to rise in your face at the thought of last night. The elevator arrives and you quickly step in. “No, not at all, to what do I owe the honour of this call.”

“No need to be so formal,” He giggles at you.

“Sorry, habit,” You respond. “What can I do for you?” 

“I wanted to thank you for yesterday...” Taehyung starts off. 

But his words are soon interrupted by someone shouting, “Hold the door.” You comply, pushing the button to keep them open, while trying to keep your focus on your conversation with Taehyung.

“...It’s not often that I meet someone who I can be so open with. I called the man you recommended and I’ve scheduled my first session with him tomorrow.”  

You freeze, unable to fully comprehend what he’s saying, surely he misspoke. It can’t be his first session. “W-what do you mean your first session is tomorrow? You were there-” The collar hidden beneath your turtleneck feels as though it’s tightening around your throat. “Last night, I saw you-” The line goes dead as the elevator closes and starts to ascend. It was Taehyung in the bed with you and Namjoon last night. You saw... nothing you saw nothing because of the blindfolded that you were asked to wear.

“Everything okay?” You jump at the sound of the other voice, forgetting that some else had gotten into the elevator. Looking up you find Jimin there beaming at you, his head tilted from his query.

“Namjoon,” You flutter with your phone, too panicked to even greet your secretary properly. “I need to call Namjoon.” But the line won’t connect, not with you in the elevator. “Fuck...” You try again your patience not willing to wait the minute it’ll take to disembark on your floor.  

You are almost there when the elevator shudders and stops. The sudden halt sends you off balance, but Jimin’s there to grab hold of you before you can fall. You thank him before stepping back and putting a bit of distance between the two of you again.

Jimin turns his attention to the panel, pushing the call button, he waits for someone to answer, but the call remains silent. 

While he continues in his attempt to make contact, every scene of the night before floods back to your memory as you try to piece everything together. It was Taehyung, it had to be. He must just be playing a stupid joke. He was surely going to shout ‘gotcha’ before the phone disconnected, but you won’t know for certain until someone can get you off this blasted lift. You sink to the floor and Jimin follows, unable to reach anyone on the outside. 

Despite your best efforts to rationalize what happened, your panicked breaths fail to slow, Spots start appearing in your vision as the elevator sways around you. Your breakfast threatens to make another appearance on the polished marble floor. 

“It’ll be fine. Someone will notice soon.” Jimin attempts to comfort you but even that won’t quash the fear raging inside you.

“It’s not just that...” You whisper. “Something happened last night. I need to call Namjoon, I need to figure out...” Who was actually in that bed with you. Your confusion and panic break free sending you into a fit of tears as you hug your knees to your chest.

“Hush, it’s okay.” Jimin readjusts, moving in front of you and taking your hands in his. He leans towards you as he whispers in your ear. “Don’t cry babygirl.”

Your eyes snap to look at Jimin in alarm. Your prior worries are nothing compared to the terror which takes hold now. “H-how do you know that name?” Your stuttered words barely make their way past your lips.

“I think you know the answer to that question.” He pulls at the collar of his shirt allowing you to spot a large red mark on his neck, right where you had bitten the man you once thought to be Taehyung. “I wanted to wait a bit longer, I wanted more moments like we had last night but it would seem that someone had to go and ruin it.” You pull back but Jimin’s hands shift to take hold of your wrists, mimicking the manacles that embraced you the night before. “Are you not happy babygirl? You got your wish. And I... I got what I’ve always wanted.”

“This is so wrong Jimin! You knew I thought you were someone else! You knew that I wouldn’t have done that last night if I knew the truth.” 

“Even though I was the one you really wanted babygirl?”

“Stop calling me that! Just because of what happened last night does not make me yours. You lied to Namjoon. You said that I sent you. You told him you were Taehyung!”

Jimin gives a wicked laugh in response to your accusations. “Oh, but you are mine. Namjoon is the one who’s been keeping things from you. He’s been in my employ far longer than yours.” He coos as his fingers tighten their grip on you. “I was the reason you were introduced to him, and I was the one who bestowed you with that name shortly after.”

“No, that’s not possible, Namjoon and I, we met at a charity event.”

“Hosted by my father. Where I told him to make himself known to you, to entice you to become one of his pets. I may have acted the sub last night but I am the one who holds Namjoon’s reins, I always have.”

“No he would never do that! He’s considerate and-”

“Had so much to gain by dominating you on my behalf. Money, power, and an assurance of safety, he would’ve been a fool to turn my offer down. Especially since you were so willing to play along with him. I dare say he enjoyed his time with you, but I was the one who permitted him to touch you. I was there to listen, to read, and to direct every conversation. Those gifts he told you to wear to the office, they were all from me.” He lets go of one of your wrists to pull down the neck of your shirt. Revealing the leather band strapped around your neck. “Today it’s the collar, yesterday it was the corset, and a few weeks ago...” Jimin smirks as he recalls the memory to your mind. “You barely made it through that meeting thanks to my gift.”

  It’s impossible to swallow the admissions coming from him, but regardless of what may be true or false, you won’t stand for any of it. “You’ve had your fun, but this ends now.” You reach up attempting to remove the collar but Jimin pushes you to the floor pinning your arms above you as he straddles you. The elevator wavers from the struggle, teetering as you lay captive beneath him. 

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’ve placed yourself in. I hold in my possession your darkest secrets. One’s that will ruin you if they make their way out. Your illegal activity with a sex worker, your inappropriate sexual conduct with your secretary. Not to mention the names and dubious activities of every client you’ve recommended to Namjoon’s services.”  

“Why... why are you doing this?” 

“Because you found me. I worked so hard to exploit my father from the outside, getting everything I wanted without the threat of public exposure. I couldn’t let you ruin it all. When we first met I considered you a threat, but then I saw how easy and enjoyable it was to mould to my will. The more intimate you become with someone the more power you give them over you. Simply being your secretary isn’t enough, not if I want you in a more pliable state.” Jimin hushed whisper mixes with a haunting giggle as his lips come to your ear. “I plan to bend you to fit every one of my needs.”

“You’re psychotic!” You lash out trying to throw him off but he stems your revolt by planting himself further down on to you, sitting on your chest as the elevator sways.

“Psychotic? No, I am simply a man who found his passion amidst his revenge. I know what I desire, and vengeance has taught me how best to take it. So if you want to keep yourself and everything else around you from falling, I suggest you play along like a good girl. Or I promise you, my punishments won’t be as kind as what you’ve experienced before.”

“What is it that you want?” You ask, already fearing his answer. He has you trapped in a gilded cage with him, where one misstep will send you plummeting to meet your end. Nothing that comes accompanied by such threats can be palatable.

“At work? To keep the status quo, I’ll remain your secretary, only so I can keep a better hold on you.” 

“Hoseok won’t agree to that. He already thinks I should ditch you. I should have listened to him.” 

“Then you will make him agree or he might have an accident, much like your accountant did. He too thought we were too close, even threatened to say something. Don’t worry I saved us from him, just as I’ll save us from Hoseok if you can’t convince him to back off. Do you think you can get him to agree now?”

You give a solemn nod, with Hoseok on the line you have no choice.

“After hours, we’ll drop the middleman.” Jimin lowers himself further on to you, laying down on top, his weight flattening you to the floor. With his head coming to rest on your restrained arm as he whispers further plans. “Every night you’ll come to me instead, and every morning you’ll have a new gift to wear. When we step off this elevator you’ll act as if nothing is wrong. You will go about business as usual, is that clear babygirl?”

You stifle a sob staring directly up and away from his eyes, not daring to give him the satisfaction of your fear. With little else to cling to, all you can do is agree for the time being, as much as it pains you, you choke out your compliance. “Yes...” 

“Yes what?” Jimin purrs, his lips faintly touching your ear. “Address me properly, or I will find ways to discipline you right here on this lift.” His fingers tighten and nails bite into your skin.

“Yes sir,” you whine as a plea for him to stop. 

Jimin mercifully lessens his hold on your wrists, hitting you instead with a smirk and befouled praise. “Good girl. I knew you’d finally see that I’m worth the risk.”

...

[brywrites]

Flight Risk IV

Summary: An answer to the age old CM question, “who’s flying the plane?” And the story of a pilot and a profiler. Part IV: In which airplane food is disappointing and the context of a case is heavy.

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Arthur stands waiting for her outside the jet stairs. “So you’re on speaking terms again?”

She freezes, hands still lifted in the middle of adjusting her cap. “What do you mean?”

Arthur gives half a shrug and begins climbing up into the plane. He’s not one to pry into the lives of other people, but she’s discovered he does make occasional exceptions to this rule. “Simply that you seem much happier to be around Dr. Reid today. Your scowl is gone.”

Her face flushes and she’s grateful he can’t see it as they file into the cockpit. “We talked, yes. I think we’ve reached an understanding.”

Arthur gives a noncommittal, mmmm, and gets to work adjusting Geff’s controls. She does the same, going through routine checks, only to be interrupted by a quiet, “Just be careful. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Y/N blinks, then looks down quickly. She doesn’t ask him to elaborate; Captain Dobson isn’t one for sentimental attachments or expressions. The fact that he’s saying this at all speaks volumes. It makes her happy, to know he considers her someone close. The BAU is obviously close-knit, she’s heard them refer to themselves more than once as a “family.” But the two of them, bound by similar schedules and shared challenges, they’re something of that sort too. Perhaps that makes them distant cousins of the FBI.

The team boards the plane, they’re cleared for takeoff, and it’s all smooth flying and blue skies for a solid three hours. They’re both tired, and the thought of being able to go home and sleep in her own comfortable bed lifts her spirits – until the cockpit door slides open and Agent Rossi steps in.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” he says. “We just got word of a case in Houston. Two previous victims and now there’s a kid missing.”

A kid. Oh, god. Rossi looks genuinely apologetic, but Arthur nods.

“We’ll change course immediately.” Rossi murmurs a thank you, then slides the door closed once more, muffling the voices of the other agents, already discussing the case behind them.

Y/N follows all orders, gets in touch with the air traffic controller, telling Indianapolis Center that they’ll be changing directions and heading for Houston. Other than exchanges with ATC and instructions to shift speeds and change controls, they fly in silence. It’s a heavy quiet, weighed both by an acknowledgement that somewhere, something horrible has happened, as well as the fact that they won’t be going home tonight.

It’s harder for Arthur, he has a boyfriend to go home to, people who need him. She has less attachments, but has no desire to spend more time in a small motel once again. Still, things could be worse. It’s important work.

“I think we’ve still got lunches prepared that I could heat up,” she offers. “What do you want – the chicken or the pasta?”

“Pasta,” he replies, without missing a beat.

“You always take the pasta.”

“I’m the captain. When your epaulets have four stripes, you can claim it first.”

“I don’t know why we even bother with the chicken,” she grumbles. “We both hate airplane meat.”

“You know the rules. We can’t have the same meal.”

Y/N carefully clambers to the sliding door. “I know. But honestly, how many planes have gone down as a result of the food?”

“There have been some close calls. Japan Air, 1975, omelets. Overseas National, 1982, tapioca. British Airways, 1984, hors d’oeuvres.” She rolls her eyes, but begrudgingly goes to fetch the saran-wrapped meals. Slipping out of the cockpit, she catches bits and pieces of conversation as the team begins to work. The previous victims were a little older, most in their early and mid-twenties. All women with blonde hair.

“But Caroline Chapman is only twelve,” Morgan adds. “Though she fits the physical type.” Twelve years old. Her stomach turns, and it has nothing to do with the plane. She swallows hard and grabs the meals from the warm tray, hurrying back to the cockpit before she can hear anything else.

Their world is so different from hers. Their work is so heavy. Sometimes, in the silence of the flight, she pretends she’s a commercial pilot, bringing passengers somewhere cheerful. Maybe part of the crew on one of those Make-A-Wish flights.

The pilots eat in silence, then Arthur, sensing she needs a distraction, begins one of their infamous verbal games.

“Fortunately,” begins Arthur, thinking it over, “I’m taking a vacation in Seattle.”

“Unfortunately,” she counters, “climate change has turned Seattle to a frozen wasteland.”

“Fortunately, I’m an Iditarod champion and getting around won’t be an issue.”

“Unfortunately, the number of confused squirrels on the snow is distracting the sled dogs.”

Back and forth they continue, trying to create the most complicated situation until one of them has no counterpoint, or says something so absolutely outlandish they must concede. Sometimes their games can carry on for almost an hour; depending on which one they’re playing. This one finally ends when Arthur claims he’s saved up enough vacation time, and she rebuttals that the BAU has called in an emergency and he has to come fly the plane.

“Ah,” says Arthur, “fortunately Seattle is a frozen wasteland and no planes can take off.”

Y/N admits defeat. They sit in silence, cloud rushing past them. Then she says, “They’re only twelve.”

“I heard,” he says, starting straight ahead at the sky. She shifts in her seat, searching for the words to explain how she’s feeling. Arthur adds, “You can’t think about it too much. That’s their job.”

That’s all he has to say. A few hours later, they touch down just outside of Houston, and the agents file off to SUVs. She and Arthur prepare Geff for his overnight stay at the little airport they’ve landed at, before going off to the hotel. It’s been a long day, and they end up staying at the same one as the team. After a nap, she takes a long hot shower, and they order takeout, exhausted from the long flight.

Dinner arrives at nearly 8 pm; Arthur takes his to his room, and she makes herself comfortable in the lobby. Wet hair thrown up in a bun, a sweatshirt and leggings. That’s the nice thing about traveling. Nobody knows her. She can be anyone in a new city, only to disappear a few days later and leave only faint traces of herself. The sun has nearly disappeared outside the lobby window, when half of the team comes in, looking entirely drained. They head off in different directions, and she’s pleasantly surprised when Reid goes not to his room, but to join her on the hotel lobby couch. Y/N tries not to look too excited.

“You look tired,” she remarks. Holds out the container of pad thai and chopsticks. “Have you eaten yet?”

He politely refuses. “I have, thanks. Besides, I don’t know how to use chopsticks.”

“What? We’re going to have to fix this.” Her joking smile shrinks to one of hesitancy when she asks, “How are you doing?”

Reid shrugs, runs his hand through his long hair. It seems the more stressed he is, the messier it gets, and something makes her want to sit him down and brush her fingers through it until he looks calm.

“We’ve got enough for a partial profile, but that’s it. We still don’t have – I mean, we still can’t find the girl.”

Arthur explicitly warned her not to get involved, not to think about it. And yet, she asks, “So… what does that mean?” She knows enough to realize it’s not good.

Reid purses his lips. “The first hour is the most important. When a stranger abducts a child, it doesn’t always mean they’ll be killed. But of the children who are, almost half die within the first hour. Nearly all of them are killed within the first twenty-four, and we just passed that mark. Hotch, JJ, and Rossi are still out looking, with the CARD team. In five hours, they’ll come back and I’ll go out with Morgan and Kate.”

Kate Callahan is the newest member of their team, a short woman with dark hair and no time for anyone’s crap. She likes the way they look out for each other, making sure they have a chance to rest. But twenty-four hours, it’s such a short timespan. Gone too soon already. What does that mean for Caroline Chapman?

“Are you okay?” Reid asks, tilting his head. His voice is gentle, making it easy to admit to him what she hates to admit to herself.

“This job – it’s different for us, you know? As pilots,” she says. “You’re trained for this. It’s what you know you’ll be doing, going off to fight evil and save lives. I never thought I’d be involved with that. I mean, I like this job, don’t get me wrong. But I love flying. And lately, every time I get a call from work, my heart breaks because I know the only reason I’m going up in the air is because something terrible has happened to someone, and I just don’t know how to reconcile that. Every time I get into that plane, every time we get Geff off the ground, we’re taking you all to danger, and I only get to do what I love because someone else has suffered a tragedy.”

It’s so complicated, to have her great love for the sky tangled up in this mess she feels when the phone rings. It’s fear and it’s anxiety and it’s sorrow – grief for people she will never even meet. And flying back can be just as difficult. A case closing may mean a happy ending, but it also might mean that a victim is dead, or that an unsub – she’s picked up their lingo – is dead. Either way, there has almost always been some sort of loss. Perhaps in the form of innocence or hope or comfort. She can see it when they board before heading home. This job takes things from them. Will a day come when they have nothing left?

“I know it might sound selfish, but it’s just hard for me to understand. And you,” she adds. “I’m always so happy to see you and talk to you, but that only happens when there’s a case. I feel like I shouldn’t feel that way, not when someone’s life is on the line.”

Does it make sense to him? She hopes it does, because otherwise it’s going to sound so self-centered. Of course his job is more emotionally taxing. Of course she’d rather be a pilot than a profiler. But it hurts her heart each time she hears there’s a case. She grieves for them too. And she worries for the team, her team, their team.

He must understand though, because he places one hand over hers, just long enough for her to understand it’s meant as a comforting gesture, and not purely accidental. Reid doesn’t touch many people, she never sees him shake hands with anyone he doesn’t know. Crossing that barrier is a big deal, and that’s what leaves her all the more surprised.

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “It’s okay to feel whatever you feel – about this job, or a case. You don’t have to disconnect from things or stop being affected by them. But you also don’t have to feel guilty about liking your work. You shouldn’t – you’re a great pilot, and a really good person.”

“Thanks, Doctor.”

Reid gives her half a smile, then looks nervously down at the floor. His pulls at his fingers. “You know, maybe we could meet sometime outside of work. That way we can actually talk for a normal amount of time, and we don’t have to worry about anything else.”

“That would be really, really nice.” At that, his smile widens, and she can feel her own mouth mirroring his expression. “Maybe after all this, when we’ve both had enough sleep, we could go get coffee or something? Go to a library?”

Reid’s grin makes his eyes seem less tired, and for a moment it’s so easy to forget the circumstances. “I’d like that.”

[newtxtinaforever]

Happy Birthday Tina!

Hello there! Today's one shot is sponsored by @neighborhood-newtina-reblogger, a tumblr that I greatly admire. Okay, it's not technically sponsored by the blog, but it did provide the prompt/idea for this one shot, which I will include at the very end in case you want to know what it is. Also, the fanart above belongs to @sydsketch and partially inspires my fanfic as well. Don't want to put the prompt at the beginning and spoil the story, so without further ado, I hope you enjoy this little piece of my Newtina heart. Oh, and happy birthday Tina! ☺️

3rd POV

"Oh, Newt. She's perfect!" Tina exclaimed happily, a smile brightening up her usually tense features. It wasn't that the American witch held a grudge against smiling or having fun; quite the opposite, in fact. She was so used to being responsible that her default look was to come across as a professional who took her job seriously. When she was with Newt, however, she couldn't help but smile. His light-hearted nature simply had a way of making her feel like she could let her guard down and didn't have to worry about what kind of person Newt was. Having fought alongside him in the fight against Grindelwald, Tina knew she could trust Newt. It was a good thing because he had just given her a creature to call her own.

"Really? That's wonderful to hear. I hoped you would like her but I wasn't completely sure if you would be interested in-" Newt was quickly interrupted by Tina's warm words of gratitude. "I love her, Newt. Thank you," she replied. Her eyes sparkled with a light reminiscent of the creature that currently rested in its small glass case. "What's her name?" Tina asked softly as she admired the speckled salamander. Newt blushed before replying, "Well, I thought you might like to name her seeing as she's yours." Both pairs of eyes connected for the briefest of moments.

"Of course!" Tina blurted, although she soon regained her composure. "I'm not quite sure where to start, but I'm sure we can think of something." Newt's tender smile at Tina's inclusion of the word 'we' went unnoticed for the most part, yet the tone of their environment was clearly evident. It was nearly impossible to miss the delicate care each person felt for the other, so alive and tangible was it. The silence that settled in during certain moments of the conversation were not uncomfortable, but peaceful instead. Surprisingly enough, Newt was the next one to speak up.

"Keegan," he uttered cryptically. Tina tilted her head to the right by a dozen degrees. "Who?" she wondered aloud, her sharp eyes fixed on Newt. The famous magizoologist remained quiet for several seconds until Tina cleared her throat. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was simply suggesting Keegan as a name, but I understand if you don't like it. She's yours, so feel free to choose whatever name you feel is best."

Tina lowered her gaze to the ground, then extended her head upward. "The name's fine, Newt. And I want you to be included in the naming process, trust me," she said with reassurance in her voice. Newt smiled. "What about Thea? She's the Greek goddess of light, which is fitting since salamanders feed off of fire, right?" Tina inquired. She waited for a response from Newt, but he appeared not to have heard her. Beginning to wonder if something was wrong with him, Tina repeated the end of her previous sentence. "Right, Newt?"

The man in question displayed signs of life after what seemed like forever. His nose was scrunched as if he had caught a whiff of rotting maggots while his eyes blinked ferociously. What was going on? Tina prompted Newt to explain his behavior, although it took some serious persuading. "The name sounds a bit like... well... like Theseus, my brother." Tina nodded her head in agreement and decided to move on. The last thing she wanted was for her new companion to remind Newt of his older brother.

"Perhaps you might consider Idris. It's Welsh and can mean 'fiery' depending on the language." Newt explained gently. His voice was rich and full of childlike wonder, much to Tina's delight. It was rare to find such a kindred spirit in a world where brute strength and power was often congratulated. Tina tried not to let her emotions become too obvious as she lovingly murmured, "I think Idris is a lovely name. Thank you, Newt." Once again, both pairs of eyes connected and lingered; the result was pure fascination and ultimately love.

With their eyes still fixed on each other, Tina closed the space between them. Her long, thin arms wrapped themselves around the middle of Newt's back. Much like their prolonged glances, this embrace was personal and private, something that was special between them. Tina was keenly aware of Newt's reservations regarding the hug, so she made sure to take baby steps while reassuring Newt at the same time. Her fingers brushed lightly against Newt's back, the warmth from her hands radiating through his pale blue shirt. With a great amount of hesitance and care, Tina tightened her grip on Newt. Hopefully he wouldn't feel uncomfortable; that was the last thing Tina wanted. Nevertheless, she held on to him, refusing to let go just yet.

Nearly a minute had passed before Newt reciprocated the hug. Unbeknownst to Tina, his eyes watered and a huge grin spread across his face. Both sets of arms rested gently on the other's back, a sign of peace and acceptance. It didn't take long for Tina to pull Newt in closer, more confident this time. Any lingering doubt as to whether or not Newt would perceive such intimate physical contact to be desirable was gone. She knew that he would understand just as she had learned to understand the roundabout way he comforted and complimented her.

With an overflowing heart, Newt Scamander enveloped Tina in his arms; pure, sentimental emotion surrounded them. Every part of him wanted nothing more than to freeze that moment and remember it forever. Not only was it rare for Newt to desire physical contact, but it was also rare for him to feel so content as a result of it. In Tina, Newt found appreciation and compassion. Despite miscommunication being a continuous issue between them, the two old souls always managed to make things right. If Newt was honest, Tina completed him — to a certain extent. He hadn't felt that his life was 'less than' without her, but he did notice a change whenever she was around, whether physically or in Newt's thoughts. She was someone who helped him restore his jaded view of humanity, and for that, Newt was grateful.

The embrace continued for several more minutes, Newt mentally recording what it felt like to be so close to Tina.

The scent of her hair, the touch of her hands. Newt was so mesmerized that he even dared to lift Tina off the ground, just a couple inches, and spin her very gently. It was instinct and had occurred before he could stop himself. Never before had he allowed his emotions to come off so strongly in the presence of another human being, and he had to admit: it felt freeing.

As for Tina, she experienced similar sentiments during their embrace. Mind racing, heart soaring... Since when did Newt display such sudden outbursts of affection? While Tina was slightly confused by this, she didn't question it because of her elation. If Newt was comfortable enough to be so physically close with her, she took it as a sign of growth and was proud of him. Each second that passed served as a reward earned by the energy both had spent in order to fight against the evil forces that threatened wizards and muggles alike. After years of fighting, Newt and Tina were given a moment of reprieve. A moment to be still, but more importantly, to be happy.

For Newt, happiness took the form of feeding his creatures. This was nothing new, but having Tina by his side — her eyes full of adoration — made the event much more enjoyable. For Tina, growing closer to Newt served as her main source of happiness, although she also happened to find it in the pursuit of wizardkind's most elite criminals. After all, being an Auror was an important part of Tina's life. The fact that her devotion to justice nearly managed to get her killed was unfortunate, yet Tina had put it in the past where it belonged. She needed her job because it allowed her to protect innocent lives, and that was something Tina would never stop pursuing. Whether it was a sideways smile or a lengthy yet tender hug, both Newt and Tina were fond of the little things in life as well as each other. Nothing, not even Grindelwald, could take those feelings away from them.

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

Author's Note: Below is the prompt for the above one shot ⬇️⬇️

I want Tina to initiate newtina’s first embrace. And I want it to happen in a happy context. I want her to realize that maybe Newt isn’t bold enough just yet to make that move, so she takes control and latches onto him. It won’t be like when Theseus hugged him, arms and back stiff the whole time. It will be at first, while he takes a few seconds to process what’s happening. In those few seconds, Tina is fully aware he’s processing the situation, so she holds him even tighter to reassure him that yes, she’s here. She wants this. She will wait. And once he finally accepts that, I want Newt to reciprocate her embrace with an enormous grin on his face (bonus points for misty eyes). I want him to wrap his arms around her back and tentatively return her gesture. Tina pulls even tighter to erase that last bit of questioning how far he should go. Then, Newt fully wraps her up in him, encasing her with his arms and body as completely as he can (bonus points for a little pick up and spin or something extra cute like that). And they stay like that for a while, just appreciating each other. Wordlessly processing their emotions. Surrendering to their feelings. Just being together like they want.

[black-streak]

Perfectly Planned

Saturday's Alright snippet written for @witchsblackfox

This... Definitely wasn't what I think either of us were expecting, but I got started on it and it just took a life of its own. Apparently my mind decided Tim was too devious for a straight forward fight over this with Bruce. And also too sentimental to not get caught up in the moment instead of reveling in his victory. Oh well, hope you like it!

~---~

The second Bruce told him that he planned to propose to Selina, a mischievous glimmer to his eyes, Tim came to an abrupt realization. He needed to beat him to the punch.

Tim knew for quite some time that Marinette was it for him. There was no maybes or ifs and buts. She was it. He loved her with everything he had and wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. He's known that since they began this relationship. Since she took a bullet for him and stood between him and his family.

Better yet, he knew the feeling was mutual. For once in his life he felt he could securely say that someone loved him unconditionally and would never abandon him no matter what came their way. No fake deaths. No lies for the others safety. No false promises. The two loved each other fully without waver. 

It was only a matter of time before they decided to get the law involved and make their claims on each other known to the world.

The problem was that he knew they'd never hear the end of it if his adoptive father married her figurative cat mom. As unrelated as they obviously were and even with Selina only calling Mari her kitten in a motherly claim, the issue stood. The two marrying would lead to endless teasing over him dating his figurative sister. And Bruce obviously knew this.

That… was not something he was willing to deal with. So the race against the clock was on. Tim needed to propose to Mari and marry the woman of his dreams before Bruce could work up the nerve to ask Selina. And knowing Selina, she would be offended if Bruce piggybacked off Tim's proposal or took the spotlight off her kitten's moment or special day. So as long as he proposed first, they were in the clear.

It took very little time to set up. As horrific as buying a ring for a literal fashion powerhouse sounded, it actually made this easier. Marinette had always been forthcoming with her opinions on everything fashion related. He knew exactly what she did and didn't like from bands to stones and gems to cuts and sizing. Ordering the ring took more time then he felt comfortable with, but he refused to let timing get in the way of creating the perfect ring. Marinette was anything but traditional and straightforward and her ring deserved to reflect this. 

Three silver bands twisted together intricately with moonstones and tiny diamonds peaking out between the folds. The bands themselves had softly engraved swirls stretching across them to give texture and movement. He already knew she would end up picking sunstones for his own band to contrast.

...

Waiting for the email to pick up the ring threw his anxiety through the roof, to the point his family took notice.

"Alright, I'll bite. What are you hyperfixating on so much? You didn't even bitch when I stole your drink," Jason spoke up next to him from where he leaned up against the counter. Tim glanced over towards the bedroom.

"She left an hour ago," Jason raised an eyebrow in disbelief, "something about fabric."

"I'm waiting for an email."

"And a notification won't cut it? Have to glare down your laptop instead?"

"When did you even get here?"

"You invited me for breakfast, ditz. I helped Mari make it? You even participated by cutting the fruits," Jason teased, though his eyes looked concerned.

"Oh.."

"So the email?"

"Mari's engagement ring should be finished today."

"No shit? That's great, babybird, you're making it official."

"It should be done by now."

Clapping a hand on his shoulder he offered a flippant, "It'll be done when it's done. Can't rush perfection."

Tim grumbled in response.

"You know she'll say yes."

"I know."

"Then what- wait. Didn't Bruce mention possibly proposing to Selina soon?"

Tim slanted his eyes up to his older brother, a smirk working its way up onto his mouth, "it'll be delayed for a while if I have my way."

Jason barked out a laugh, "Your little fox really rubbed off on you. You plan on hijacking his proposal, don't you?"

"You heard Selina, Mari is her kitten. Her only daughter."

"And her mother cat marrying our adoptive father wouldn't work too well for you," the grin on his brother's face grew wider.

"Precisely. So if we marry first, it'll be a matter of our in laws trying to marry each other. Making them the creepy ones."

"You devious little shit. Pixie know you're planning this?"

His face went blank staring off into the distance, prompting Jason to chuckle again.

"Is the pleasure of one upping Batman and Catwoman better than the surprise of being proposed to?"

"I'd tell her if I were you. She seems the type to be on board for this type of scheme, but thinking the proposal had nothing to do with anyone else then finding out it was to beat out your parents afterwards?" Jason rose an eyebrow at him, a deadpan look letting Tim connect his own dots.

"I'll tell Mari tonight."

"Smart bird."

"Tell me what?" Marinette asked, appearing through the front door with bags thrown over her shoulder.

"What have we said about fabric in the house?"

"That it doesn't belong here," she pouted, "I'll drop it off at the studio soon?"

He narrowed his eyes at her and she placed the bags by the door, moving up to him, "Promise?"

He huffed and dragged her into a hug, letting her go to hug Jason in turn. Tim's laptop chose this moment to light up with an email notice. Before he could fully turn around, she turned and peered over his shoulder in curiosity.

"Mon Amour?"

"Yes?"

"Is that?"

"It is."

She squealed in excitement, bouncing lightly in place until he turned so she could smother him in kisses. Suddenly pulling back, she perked up even more.

"What's it look like? Colors? Band type?"

"You'll find out," he smiled softly at her, wrapping his arms securely around her waist 

Jason coughed to grab their attention, "Congratulations."

"Thank you!" She wiggled in place, pleased with this development.

"He's got something else to tell you."

"Oh?" She tilted back to her almost fiance. Fiance! This was so exciting!

"We're crashing Bruce's proposal."

"His… he's planning on proposing to Selina?"

"Soon, yes."

She stood there quietly for a moment, looking at him carefully before nodding, "okay."

"Okay?" Jason asked.

"Okay," she shrugged, "I made a bet with Selina that Tim would propose before Bruce would. Never told her we had already discussed marriage and knew it was inevitable unlike those two."

"You two were made for each other," Jason gave an exasperated groan as Tim laughed.

Glancing back at the email once more, she pulled Tim to her again, kissing him long and deep, thrilled with how soon their engagement was.

"Oh god. Alright, hold on, I'm leaving!" Jason grabbed his jacket and rushed towards the door. "Could you hold off for two fucking seconds?" he called as he caught a glimpse of Mari taking off Tim's shirt and slamming the door behind him.

She giggled against his lips as he pulled her flush against him, "should we celebrate?"

"Mmm."

…

The whole family had been invited over for Sunday night dinner at the Manor, including Selina. Knowing the older man and his desire to include the family in any large changes or decisions, Tim knew this was the night. Bruce planned to propose tonight. While Mari and him had practically become engaged weeks before with his buying of the ring, he hadn't technically proposed or made it family knowledge yet. No one but Jason knew Tim planned to beat the man to the punch and decided to come to dinner for once just to watch the show.

He dressed slightly better than his usual hoodie and ragged jeans in preparation, pulling on a soft gray cowl necked sweater, the neckline crossing down in the front with a  shark tooth closure. Black fitted jeans and boots completed the look. Marinette would appreciate him wearing something she made for him.

Speaking of, she wore a light blue swishy cardigan over a gray top with black jeans and blue lace up booties, having partially coordinated to his own on purpose. 

As the dinner started, food being passed around and the family antics starting up around them, Tim felt a touch of anxiety slip through him only to settle as Mari wrapped her fingers around his, squeezing gently in reassurance. Taking a deep breath, he settled in, noticing a similar tension in Bruce's stance, only no relief came to the man as the courses continued. He had calculated that Bruce would attempt to propose right after dessert was being cleared. Right when family announcements usually began. Tim would propose right after dessert was placed, just close enough to Bruce's to make the man feel cut off, but early enough that dessert could feel celebratory. Which worked perfectly considering he asked Alfred to make pain au chocolats since Marinette never got to enjoy properly made ones anymore. Sure, the pastry didn't quite fit the occasion, but she would appreciate it and that was all cared about.

Alfred came out with dessert and passed it around, squeezing Tim's shoulder gently as he passed and sat beside Jason, wanting to watch his grandson's engagement. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed Marinette's hand softly and lifted from his seat, pushing it back and out of the way to kneel in front of her.

"Ma loutine-"

"Yes!"

"Let me finish," he almost giggled, smile lighting up his face, "My love, you're the most intelligent, ruthless, beautiful person I have ever met. In all the time I've known you, you have been so amazingly considerate and patient with me. Whether it be because I took too long to seek you out or stop your bad habits from taking over to when you return the favor by dragging my idiotic self back home from a work binge or help me with my work when I get caught up in my head. I think back on that night you stumbled into the kitchen and dragged me into the living room at 3 in the morning to watch stupid vines with you as the most wonderful start to anything in my life. And that's exactly what that was, only a start of our time together. I can't fathom the idea of ever parting from you, Ma lutine. So here, in front of the insane, batshit crazy family you'd have to agree to becoming part, which I'm really starting to regret reminding you of, I'm asking you please. Will you marry me?"

She leaned down, tears glittering ever so gently in the corners of her eyes to press a sweet kiss to his lips, whispering, "Yes."

He pressed up into her, pulling the ring out of the box he'd yet to open and slipping it onto her finger before pulling away and smiling widely to his family, "She said yes," he giddily informed to the sound of his family's cheers, excitement and joy bursting through his chest despite knowing she would. It still felt like a revelation to know he got to marry her. It was then she exclaimed, having finally looked down at her ring. She pushed into his lap, regaining his full attention to wrap him up in a hug, "I love it! It's so perfect, Tim, how did you even get this?" She marveled.

"Well show us," Stephanie demanded, Selina beside her, looking over curiously. 

Twisting around, she showed off the ring to the two, Cass whistling in appreciation next to them.

"Well done, Tim. Knew you were a perfectionist, but it surely shines through with your choice," Selina complimented, slipping a few bills into Marinette's hands discretely.

"That was quite a proposal, Tim. Congratulations to the both of you," Bruce offered, a strained smile on his face, not able to hold a grudge against the two with how excited and genuinely happy they looked. After all, it's not like he ever told Tim exactly when he would propose to Selina and he couldn't exactly wait around for Bruce to figure it out.

For now, he'd have to be happy for  them and pray Selina didn't bite his head off for letting two of his sons marry before popping the question himself.

[ober-affen-geil]

Let’s talk about teen Malex. Again. Or more, whatever. Because the scene in the truck is a thing that happened and it is once again screech o’clock. 

*spoilers for season 2 episode 5, and CW for discussion of child abuse, homophobia, and trauma response.*

Quick disclaimer too, this is almost entirely considering Alex’s viewpoint, specifically his viewpoint as a 17 year old. We all know the full context of Michael’s actions that summer and I will be referencing them of course, but this is mostly about Alex and what he was seeing and how he was interpreting it with the information he had.

There were several very, very interesting things that Alex said that does a lot to inform the audience of what his and Michael’s relationship was like and what it was built on. (Hint, it’s mostly miscommunication due to lack of information and assumptions stemming from respective traumas. Shocker.) But the crux of it comes down to the fact that Alex doesn’t think Michael is choosing him. He think’s he’s using him, and that’s the main reason they break down like they do.

Briefly, I want to point to Alex’s own history. Because Alex was raised in an abusive household, and in his case the abuse was centered around something specific. Alex was punished by the only parent he had present for an integral part of himself that he could do nothing to change; for Alex, love is conditional. That is an important thing to keep in mind.

Now let’s look at two specific things he said to Michael which say A LOT about how he’s thinking about and approaching their relationship. The first is “are you in love with Max”. (Which I am completely guilty of cackling like a loon at.)

The significance of that question NOW, at this moment, is undeniable. He’s put thought into it, clearly, he’s noticed Michael’s behavior and attitude towards Max change and that’s not a new development at this point. But to put that question to Michael here, so causally (You can tell me, ok?), makes it very obvious that Alex has put no value in himself in this relationship. He does not see himself as someone Michael actually desires, he sees himself as a substitute for a person Michael cannot have. Why would Michael want him.

They are literally in the middle of a makeout session and Alex thinks this is a legitimate question that actually has merit. And again, that is not a reflection of what Alex thinks of Michael. That’s a result of Alex’s own abuse and his belief that he is fundamentally unlovable as he is. (I talk about the effects of this in Alex’s adult life in this meta, which I wrote long enough ago that I am delighted it’s held up as well as it has.)

That mindset partially informs his other belief, which is summed up with “I can’t be your medicine.”

Alex is seeing Michael’s actions as using him, in a lot of different ways. The worst part is he’s right, though not in the ways he thinks. Michael is using Alex for support right now because everything that was a certainty has become an impossibility and he needs something solid to hold onto. Alex doesn’t know about most of what Michael has just been through, so all he’s seeing is a very sudden escalation of incredibly unnecessary self-destructive behavior. (I want to be with you, but not if you’re wasting your life.)

Michael isn’t getting his hand taken care of properly because he can’t go to the hospital, but all Alex sees is someone refusing to get help. Michael isn’t going to UNM anymore because he feels obligated to be close to Isobel in case she has another blackout, but all Alex sees is someone dropping out when he had a full ride scholarship. Michael is picking fights because he has no other outlet for his anger at how his life has been upended, but all Alex sees is someone who is becoming increasingly unstable in a violent way.

It’s clear from the way Alex talks about him that before this, Michael was not known for volatility. Or at least, not in ways that included breaking the law. Without context, Alex is seeing a lot of red flags.  And keep in mind, they don’t know each other that well. In Alex’s own words. It doesn’t help that all Michael has to offer in explanation is stonewalling and deflection.

Look. “Because for a second, I forgot about everything else except you” is a helluva line. I fully admit to my brain shorting out slightly but guys. It’s a line. It’s smooth as fuck and super cheesy and WE know Michael does mean the sentiment behind it, but it’s designed to deflect and it is not subtle in that regard. 

If this was a movie in the 1950s and it was a greaser sitting on the bench seat of his car with the new-girl cheerleader at sunset at Lover’s Point and he said that to her I would be yelling “run, bitch” at the screen.

All of this is stemming from the fact that Michael cannot give Alex the real reasons for his behavior. And that is not, in any way, his fault. But it means that Alex is left to draw his own conclusions and given what he knew at the time, he absolutely made the right call.

[monchikyun]

XVIII. bury a friend

It has been awfully quiet for about an hour now. As Connor ended his story with horrible dejection written all over his face, he turned around and initiated his stasis, refusing any and all comfort Gavin has been more than willing to provide. He did expect it to be something twisted and tragic like that, even imagined the worst possible scenario before being told how it really went down, just to be safe. If he’s honest with himself, the reality isn't very far from the most fucked up course of events his mind has been able to cook up. Still, it has been able to freeze the blood in his veins, which has paralysed his brain for the amount of time it took Connor to withdraw to his simulated sleep. 

Gavin has already cursed himself for being so goddamn incompetent when it comes to emotional issues, blamed himself for the cold shoulder he didn't even have the chance to receive. He still does, as he lies glued to the bed, counting the cracks in the ceiling. His nicotine addiction is begging him to go into the cold and give it what it needs to survive, but the warmth of his current company is impossible to leave. His hand aches for the smallest touch, for some confirmation that Connor is still here with him. So he directs his sight to the body next to him, letting himself be mesmerised by the constellations of freckles decorating the android's bare arm. It's a painful view, knowing that he still doesn't have the right to connect those dots with his own defects, to interpose himself with this amazing, flawed being who has carved a hole in his chest and invaded his heart.

He remembers how the android was back when he found him on the roof, finally realising the enormous difference created by the months they’ve spent together. Last spring he dreaded going to work, feared that Connor just wouldn’t show up one day and he wouldn’t be able to see him ever again. Or worse, all that would remain of him would be the empty vessel that used to house his colourful soul, something that would kill his last hopes. He was tempted to become a well-meaning stalker then, to always be near for when a potential threat arrives, but that idea was too exhausting for him in the end, and so he left his worries to a silent prayer which guided him all through to summer. 

With the warmth came the first smile and a myriad of gratitudes for his uncharacteristic kindness. That’s when they started having casual conversations, a big leap from the uncomfortable silences that filled their shared hours in the previous season. It was somewhere in July when he first regarded Connor as his friend, without his vigilant denial disagreeing that fact. Gavin has always found the android very attractive, like an eye candy specifically developed for his torment, but knowing there was a whole, unpolished person behind that plastic perfection has made his partner so much more appealing. He simply couldn’t stop himself getting drawn to him, despite all the countless attempts to emotionally distance himself from the one who lived inside his dreams. It was either letting himself be eaten by the monsters living in his past, or inviting in the one person who has the power to push them away from his corrupted mind.

For the longest time, he did neither. Though his inability to act on his feelings was due to more than just the inherent fragility of their source, he was simply afraid like he has always been when it comes to things that have the potential to hurt him. He'd rather be thrown in a paper shredder than to have his soul bruised again. Physical pain is easy to understand, straightforward in its healing. Time usually takes care of what needs to be done, but when it comes to the mind, sometimes even passing years will have little to no effect on the waste that has accumulated in someone’s innermost core. And Gavin didn't want to add onto the rotting pile of mess that has already been too much to bear as it is. But that was months ago, and as the earth was becoming colder, the warmth that had started budding inside of him turned into sweltering heat.

When autumn was nearing its end, he understood that he would soon burn up if he didn’t begin dealing with his problem. Maybe that’s how they got here, to a place where he doesn’t have to call his feelings inconvenience anymore, having breached the border that has kept them apart all these months. He wants to stop fighting it for good. This truth is sent to him from above as he puts his fingers on Connor's bare temple, tracing the ghost of the LED that used to signify his nature. 

He'd like to say that the fact that one of them isn't human is what prevented them from giving into their hearts' desires, but that is far from the truth. Life is much more complicated than that, not as black and white as he wants it to be. 

Gavin wishes their relationship was defined, so he could casually take the android in his arms and hold him away from the evil of the world, just for a short while, just so he can expand his collection of irreplaceable moments that he doesn't ever want to forget. 

He considers getting just a bit closer, weighing all the pros and cons that ultimately mean nothing because deep down he recognises that their sentiments are shared. So he lowers his steadying hand down from Connor’s temple, ready to enfold everything his partner represents. But fortune isn’t on his side tonight, because as soon as he begins his movement, Connor wakes up with a jerk that betrays confusion lined up with its best friend, unease. 

"Did you have a nightmare?" Gavin is more than familiar with the concept of being tortured by his own psyche as he lays it to rest, so he's aware of just how disorienting such illusions can be, how unrelentingly cruel and merciless they often are. 

"No, no... I-... androids can't normally dream. I wasn't really sleeping, just… thinking. More than I should." 

Gavin scoots over so their shoulders are just about touching, a decision his conscious mind has had no say in. 

"Do you wanna talk 'bout it?" A quiet, tentative question just barely escapes his lips for fear he gets denied entrance into Connor's trove of dark secrets. 

There is a short, excruciating period of silence before he gets his answer.

"You know how I can preconstruct any future scenario based on the information available to me?" 

"Yeah? I mean… sorta. Can't really wrap my mind around your technical stuff most of the time." That's only partially a lie. He ought to tell him that he doesn't want to picture his inner workings because they kind of scare him, but maybe that would be too inappropriate given the frailty of this moment. 

"Well… I saw you get buried…,” the android breathes out for reasons Gavin can only guess, “after you died, naturally." 

"Naturally." 

Why doesn't this even surprise him anymore. Of course Connor would paint himself the grimmest image possible, these are just his default settings. Give him the brightest colours and he'd draw you the darkest sky without a single star in sight. 

"That's not… I'm sorry I,... I didn't mean to… I just couldn't stop it since it went that way and…" 

"Hey, it's okay.” It hurts seeing Connor get like that, losing most of his coherency and feeling like he should apologise for it.  

“How…," Gavin takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts down. Connor was the one who saw his funeral, not him, yet he feels like he’s been there already, among the dirt, not far from other decaying corpses. It’s an uncanny sensation. Not one he’ll be chasing any time soon. 

"How did it make you feel?" A stupid question, really, and yet the best his brain has to offer. 

"How do you think?" Gavin never knew that tears could fit an incredulous look, but the welling in Connor's eyes combined with the exasperation written all over his face is proof enough. Laughable, frankly, but he wouldn't dare. Not now, anyway. 

"Guess it sucked then." 

"That's putting it mildly." The android shakes his head and rubs his eyes before they have the chance to leak his sorrow. 

"I… I don't ever want to go through that again,” he says, desperation piercing his voice through and through. It would be easy to dismiss these ungrounded worries if it wasn’t for the two flaming brown lights probing his own mossy pools like they intend to hypnotise them and seize control over his soul.  

"You know that no one can force you to… be there... when it happens." 

"You don’t get it! That's not the point. I don't want to live in a world where two of my best friends are nothing but a memory. I realise that’s selfish, but… "

Gavin does, by all means, get it, he just tried to help, somehow. 

Connor’s eyes are turning into glass, threatening to melt again, so he closes his because God knows he does not possess the strength to witness it, not tonight at least. 

"Maybe you should just relax Con, the future will come no matter what, but we still have the might to shape it as we like. To some extent. Anyway,... I promise…," he cuts the sentence midway to inhale a big gulp of oxygen, an action which results in a minor coughing fit. 

"I promise to try my best to stay by your side as long as physically possible. " A statement which makes him want to cry instead. 

"Does it mean you’ll stop smoking then?" 

Oh, that devious android, of course this conversation would lead here, why wouldn't it. He glances at his nightstand, checking if the half-full box of cigarettes is still there, waiting for him to take its lethal fruit. Come to think about it, ever since their little trip his taste for cigarettes has somewhat diminished. Could be the fresher air just outside these thin walls, or the fact that Connor’s presence stimulates him enough already, so the need for nicotine is not as great as it is when he has to spend his time alone or surrounded by people who hold little to no significance to him, pretending like he doesn't crave something beyond the drug his body could very well function without. 

"Yeah..., yeah, okay." Gavin buries his face in his hands, disbelieving his consent. 

As he puts them away and folds them in his lap, he scroungers up a lazy smile meant to lighten up the heavy mood, to maybe clear Connor’s stormy sky a little. 

"But only if you promise to try to be more optimistic…  just a smidge.., " he makes a gesture with his two fingers to show how small of an effort would suffice. 

Then he gives Connor a friendly pat on his thigh, after which he realises that he doesn't have to limit his displays of affection anymore, not after all the intimacy they have been willing to submit themselves to already. 

So he lets his palm linger, allowing himself to rub gentle circles into the clothed skin. He doesn't have to be cautious with Connor, for the android isn't burdened with any biological organs that would make this situation uncomfortable for both parties. 

"Life isn't all bad, I’m sure you came across that particular information at least once during your time on this Earth. Experienced it, even. No?" 

"You're right." 

A trace of a hesitant smile on Connor’s lips is all that it takes for Gavin to heave a sigh of relief. He’s too tired to think beyond that feeling. Everything inside of him, all the emotions and memories blend into a blurry mixture as he starts losing the ground under his feet. 

But he must fight it, his friend still needs him awake...

"Let's go to sleep," Connor whispers, tugging him into a tender embrace. It’s warm and safe and he can't concentrate on anything but the wave of love pulling him under to the sweet slumber he’s always yearned for. 

Indeed, life can be ever so wonderful sometimes.

@a-convin-new-year

[apollos-favourite-bastard]

I’m going to say this once, and honestly probably several more times while defending my stance, but here goes- Gate keepers are bad people, and almost everyone agrees on that. We all hate the people who gatekeep different bits of culture, as is right. They’re selfish people, and arrogant, too, believing that they get to dictate who does and doesn’t get to participate in something. The act of gatekeeping is, in and of itself, hostile and bigoted. It depends on one placing their own self higher than those around them and passing judgement, trying to push someone out of a space because they find that they are more rightfully entitled to that space than someone else.

There are two very bad fronts of this in the LGBTQIA+ community in particular. The first, which is very well known and acknowledged, but not what this post is about, are TERFs and other groups that are transphobic in nature. Fuck TERFs is an extremely common sentiment on tumblr, as it should be, because fuck TERFs. TERFs are bigots, and their stance comes from a place of bigotry. We mostly all agree on this, except for the TERFs who think that they’re rightful and justified in their bigotry, and nothing that I say, think, feel or do is going to change that. Until they recognize their own bigotry and realize that they don’t want to be hate filled sacks of pus shaped like a human, they’re going to continue to be hate filled sacks of pus shaped like a human. However, most of the LGBTQIA+ community agrees that TERFs are bigots and wants nothing to do with them.

So, why do we give aro/ace exclusionists a pass? Why do we, as a community, not band together to fight it the same way that we do with TERFs? Why do we look at this gatekeeping of our community and not feel disgust in the same way that we do with TERFs? Why do some people in our community think that they have the right to exclude others?

Well, I have a theory about that, although I’m going to say up front that it’s just my opinion. Ace/aro people have, for quite a long time, been partially invisible. Up until the advent and popularization of social media, and even to this day in a way, the LGBTQIA+ community has been pretty heavily segregated. At first, this was out of necessity. People opened gay and lesbian bars and clubs decades ago, out of necessity. We built specific spaces for ourselves because that was literally crucial to our survival. While our communities banded together when necessary, there was always a sort of rivalry or distaste for other members of the community if they fell under a different letter. This was heavily present all the way up until the early 2010s. As a teenager in the aughties, I saw so many examples of queer people who didn’t like other letters on principle, because they had nothing in common with one another, and that hasn’t exactly vanished. I knew gay men who hated lesbians, lesbians who hated gay men, both who hated bisexual people- The list goes on.

Then Myspace and Facebook happened, and people began finding solidarity with one another without having to be in a shared space. People began sharing their experiences, and became more comfortable expressing themselves. While pride has existed for decades, it wasn’t nearly as accepted or widespread as it became AFTER social media exposed people to the realization that these communities encompass more people than they realized, and also encompassed people that they knew and cared about. It eased the way for a second wave of the LGBTQIA+ rights movement that helped the community gain several rights, including marriage rights, adoption rights and legal protections. It eased tensions, particularly in the gay and lesbian communities, and paved the way for the more solidarity focused community that we have today.

HOWEVER

After gaining these things, many members of the community decided that that was enough. Discrimination against gays and lesbians had lessened, and acceptance had become more mainstream, so they stopped giving a shit. Trans issues didn’t affect them, so they didn’t care. Ace issues didn’t affect them, so they didn’t care, and they stopped fighting for the other members of the community. That doesn’t apply to everyone, but it applies to more people than anyone should be comfortable with. 

Like I said before, the communities were pretty segregated, and we continue to be. What so many people don’t realize is that our community only has strength together. People under the LGBTQIA+ umbrella represent a sizeable chunk of the population, but each individual group doesn’t represent that much on their own. We don’t have power on our own. Unlike religious or racial minorities, the LGBTQIA+ community is completely random. Anyone could fit into it. The people in our community don’t necessarily have the same experiences. And while shared experience was a founding principle of our community out of necessity, it cannot continue to be so.

Let me explain that point, because I feel like people are not going to realize that it’s the entire point of this post unless I highlight it. Defining our community based on trauma and discrimination was, at the time, necessary. In order to increase our safety, we clumped together, because there’s strength in numbers. There’s also the completely human desire for community because as a species we are not designed to go at it completely alone. Shared experience is a good foundation for that, and if that shared experience is negative, it can make those bonds all the stronger. But that also creates a system wherein the validity of people’s experiences is judged on a sliding scale, which creates the even more unpleasant sliding scale of validity applied to a person’s existence and position in our community.

In particular, this is applied to aro/ace people, bisexual people, and transgender and nonbinary people. There are so many arguments that I could write a book on the subject, but there are more talented and knowledgeable people than I am who have written on the subject, and I implore people to seek out literature and media that can help them understand these things. But I made this post, and I’m going to talk about the main argument that I have seen applied, which is privilege.

Privilege is something I know all too well about having, as a cis white man. It has kept me safe where other people would not have been, and given me more power than I have deserved at times. I do my best to amplify voices that are shouted over, without speaking over them myself, and while I hope I have done a good job of that, I know and openly acknowledge that I am not perfect and have probably messed up too many times to count. I know that when I was younger, I certainly was not as supportive as I could or should have been to people who needed that support, because I saw someone different than I am reaching out for help, and decided it wasn’t my problem. That made me part of the problem. Over time, I have been humbled, sometimes painfully, and forced to recognize that privilege. I am not proud of things that I have done and said. I am embarrassed by who I used to be, and strive every day to be better than I was the day before. I don’t always get it right, but I am trying.

The point of that isn’t to pat myself on the back, or say ‘look how much I’ve grown!’. It’s to tell you that I have been in that place. I have seen someone different than I am and decided to keep quiet and turn a blind eye to their suffering. I have thought to myself ‘they haven’t had to struggle with the things that I have had to struggle with, so it’s not my business’. It’s also to say that privilege is a WILDLY inappropriate way to gauge someone’s position in a community.

Our community cannot and must not continue to use the meter-stick of privilege to judge the validity of someone’s worth and place in our community. It promotes its own kind of bigotry. That’s not to say that cis or white people in the community shouldn’t examine their own experiences and privilege, because we should. What I mean is that it shouldn’t be used to JUDGE someone else. Aro/Ace people and bisexual people have somehow gotten the reputation as having privilege because they are’ more easily able to blend with cishet society’, and are therefore safer and less oppressed, but that’s a bullshit argument. Trauma and oppression cannot continue to be the way we determine someone’s worth. What we should be fighting for is for discrimination to end, not for people who are more oppressed to be the only valid voices in our community. It is tearing our community apart when we need to stand together.

Otherwise we aren’t a community, we’re just a bunch of different people only standing with those who are like us, and nobody else, which is exactly how systems of oppression have been maintained throughout all of human history. People point to the most different group from themselves and say ‘they’re different, and different is bad, so they’re bad’. That’s the insidious nature of bigotry at work, and I refuse to allow myself to fall into that trap. I refuse to be a part of the problem anymore, and that means that I’m not going to keep quiet on subjects like discrimination against people just because their experiences are different than my own.

People who gatekeep communities are coming from a place of bigotry, and it has to stop. People have to speak up about it, and I hope that they do it better and less rambling than I have. TERFs and exclusionists and racists are too prevalent in this community, and we have let their bigotry form the insidious cracks that will tear this community apart if they aren’t spoken out against.

[marriael]

My Feelings Have Blossomed (Hyunjin x Reader)

(i almost put the crab head gif lmaoooooooooooo)

just assume all my writing is for @skzrequests​ at this point lmao

So I combined 2 requests since they were both pretty simple

Request: (anon) Who, prompt 2 with Hyunjin please? don’t worry annonie you did it right

(anon) Second, 2(iii) with Hyunjin? You did it right, too love! And yes florist! Hyunjin was a good time for me to write

Both florist au’s, the second one is specifically including flower meanings

Word count: 2001 (:O first time breaking 2000!!!)

90% of the time Hyunjin just wanted to be left alone. The other 10% of the time he was smothering his friends with affection but that’s not important. Hyunjin often wanted to get away from typical chaos of school but had no desire to go home and ignore his homework. One day while walking around he ended up talking to an elderly family friend, Mrs. Kim, and upon expressing his vague wish to get a job she offered a spot to work in her flower shop. Hyunjin never really cared much for flowers but the opportunity to work, especially for this nice lady, was very appealing.

So he came in one Saturday morning and she taught him everything he would need to know. Most of the time he was learning to make bouquets which were difficult at first because of his mildly clumsy hands. 

While he was practicing she would explain that most people came in with general requests that just look nice. Sometimes people would come in and ask for flowers with specific meanings. Hyunjin panicked for a minute thinking he might have to memorize all of that information somehow. Thankfully she informed him of the flower meanings book sitting on a shelf under the counter. 

After that day he was set to work 4 days a week, mostly evenings or late afternoons when he was completely done with school for the day. Unfortunately one of those days was an early morning Sunday shift. The first day he slept in just a bit and had to rush to get there which left no time for breakfast. Upon his shift ending the bakery across the street looked incredibly tempting.

He entered the warm toned shop and immediately inhaled the scent of various baked pastries. He was quickly distracted by you standing behind the counter. Most of the time in restaurants or coffee shops it’s very clear the cashiers don’t enjoy their jobs. This was not the case with you. From your expression, your humming, and your walk it was very clear you adored this job. 

You quickly turned around and noticed him standing at the door. Hurriedly running up to the counter you greeted him.

“Hello! Sorry, the bell doesn’t work and I’m not very good at paying attention when no one’s here.” You sheepishly smiled and Hyunjin was suddenly overwhelmed, you were adorable.

“It’s alright. A croissant and an americano, please.”

“Can do. Did know you have petals in your hair?”

He started flailing his hands wildly, hoping by some miracle to brush the petals off. 

“Hold on. Stop! Turn around, I’ll get them for you.” You pushed his thrashing hands away while you moved out from behind the counter.

It was awkward and silent for a few moments as you tenderly picked the petals from his hair. 

“How did these get in your hair in the first place?” You awkwardly started. 

“Oh! I started working at the flower shop across the street today. That doesn’t really explain how they got in my hair though.” Hyunjin pouted. 

“So it’s you. She came over the other day and was absolutely raving about you. Kept saying you were such a ‘nice, handsome boy.’” You quoted.

He blushed lightly at the compliments and how you had already heard about him. 

Hyujin glanced at his watch, "well… I need to go home actually so can I just have my stuff to go?" 

You scrambled back from the counter and grabbed a bag and cup. "Oh no! Of course, oh my goodness I'm so sorry." 

He laughed, "it's fine. Just don't spill any coffee on yourself, please." 

You fumbled a little when you turn around but otherwise Hyunjin was impressed with how smooth your actions were so soon in the morning and your shift. As a usual interaction he took his breakfast from you but unusually he thought about you the whole way walking home. 

From that day onward Hyunjin would come in pretty often. The next Sunday he came in before his shift and learned you didn’t come in until later on Sundays and was teased hardcore by one of your co-workers. He tried to avoid coming in every day so he wouldn’t seem creepy by asking for you but he came in often enough for a couple people to recognize him. He also saw you often enough that you became friends and he started developing a little crush! Hyunjin’s friends would say it was more than a little crush with how often he talked about you or even casually mentioned you. Often without even realizing it. 

With regular encouragement to ‘do something and shut up about it’ Hyunjin decided to start leaving you flowers. It was the obvious choice, working at a flower shop and all, and kind of cheesy but leave him alone, he was trying.

So it was Sunday once again and Hyunjin’s heart was hammering wondering if you would comment on the flowers. He wasn't sure whether it's good or bad that you didn't leave them on the counter. The world was on his side as you mentioned them about 4 seconds after he walked in.

"Hey, Hyunjin! I got these really nice flowers this morning. I was wondering if you would know if they mean anything?

"Uuuuuuh… yeah, what kind are they?"

"I have no idea," you laughed, "hold on let me grab them and you can look." 

You turned around and Hyunjin panicked, trying to figure out what to say so he doesn't make it obvious it was him. You popped out a moment later and Hyunjin tried his best to make his face neutral.

"So what's the diagnosis, doc?" You joked.

"Well, the white ones ones are gardenias and the pink ones are carnations. They mean secret love and first love, at least I think so. You got a real admirer on your hands here."

"Did you see someone buy these?" You asked, anticipating.

Hyunjin didn't want to lie to you but saying he saw someone buy them would lead to more questions than he would like. 

"No, sorry. I'll let you know if it happens in the future, though." Hyunjin tried to smooth over your disappointed face. 

This will definitely happen in the future and he will definitely not tell you who it is, you could tell. 

Well, you were at least partially right. Sunday you came in and there was a delicate purple and white bouquet. Hyunjin said they were stock and hydrangea’s.

The week after that? A stronger pink that Hyunjin said were pink roses and pink camellias. He didn’t tell you what they meant, instead ordering some extra breakfast. You looked up what they meant later and got even more confused about who could be leaving them. 

Nearly every Sunday after that you come in and see flowers waiting for you. Even when it gets colder and they become fake, or heavily dosed in whatever keeps grocery store flowers alive. That doesn't remove the sentiment! 

Hyunjin, ever the darling friend, decides not to tell you what the flowers are or what they mean. He claims it's because he 'doesn't know' but you smell bullshit. Eventually notes are often included explaining what the flowers are included and what they mean. Curiously, for some of them a note is not included and for those Hyunjin refuses to tell you what they even are no matter how much you needle him. 

And so, life goes on. You work all your regular hours and half of it is spent wishing you could go home. Then, most Sundays you get a reminder in the form of a bouquet that gets you through at least a couple of days. In that time you continue to hang out with Hyunjin quite often and develop a massive crush on him. Come on, who wouldn't? He's the whole package and it's just not fair. 

Hyunjin was having plenty of problems of his own. He had been leaving all sorts of flowers but he was supposed to confess eventually, wasn't he? Another Friday and he was selecting flowers for you.

"What are taking so many flowers for dearie? And why would you be paying for them?" Mrs. Kim seemed to appear from nowhere. She also called him dearie like most grandmas ever.

"Uh…" Hyunjin sputtered, unsure if he should he tell her what he's doing "I've been giving someone flowers every week and I'd feel bad if I didn't pay for them."

"Dear boy, you work here you don't have to pay anything. Especially if you're giving them to a special someone. Just tell me if they say yes." She winked and headed to the back room.

"But-" Hyunjin tried to protest but she didn't even look back at him.

Well shoot. Now he has to at least try to confess or else he’ll have to deal with that disappointment, grandma’s being disappointed is the worst. For now he has to finish this bouquet because he just wants to take a nap now. 

You trudge towards the bakery disgruntled about your kindness to cover an earlier shift. You open the door and it’s silent, you once again mentally curse anyone you can think of for not fixing the doorbell. As you look up you notice Hyunjin standing at the counter, facing away from you. You can see a bouquet poking out from behind him 

“Hyunjin?” You question

He spins around, alarmed and as you come closer his face gets redder and redder until he looks like a tomato.

“What is this?”

With his few, not panicking, brain cells he gives you a deadpan glare.

“Ok, ok, it’s a bouquet but did you bring it here?”

His deadpan glare doesn’t go away. “No, I’m just here to look at it.” 

You roll your eyes “Ok, but why? And no I’m not asking why you came to look at it dumbo.”

He sighs and lowers his eyes, the blush that had been fading immediately comes back as bright red as before.

“You seriously haven’t noticed then.”

“What? I haven’t noticed what?”

“Alright, excuse me while I pour my heart out then. And if you interrupt I will cut you.” He jabs his finger at you

“Violent” you mumble, crossing your arms

“We’ve spent a lot of time together throughout these cold months and you’ve always been a warm presence. Oh god, I don’t even know what that means. What I mean is from the very start of our friendship you’ve always been there and I appreciate that friendship. But I really like you and I’d really like if we could be more than friends.”

“That was pouring your heart out? Weak, Jin, Weak” you shake your head in mock disappointment.

“I just confessed to you and that’s what you have to say! Ugh, you’re impossible.” 

“Well that’s too bad. I wanted to go out on cute dates n stuff but if you’re not interested…” your voice takes on a fake sorrowful to tease Hyunjin. 

Hyunjin hasn’t moved an inch and instead his eyes follow every small movement you make. 

“Are you- Really? You like me?” He jabs a finger at his face. 

You look at him, like really look, like he’s probably getting uncomfortable now look. The way the sunlight comes in at just the right angle to give him some unfair natural highlight. His lips are just slightly parted and yeah, you do want to kiss him right now. So, you walk up to him but stop just before him. 

You look at him once more then close your eyes, “kiss me, you gorgeous i-” 

He kisses you. No fireworks, no electricity, but it feels good and right. There’ll be plenty fireworks and electricity chances later, you’re sure, it’s Hyunjin after all. 

Bonus:

“So what flowers do we have today Flower Expert?”

Hyunjin snorts, “delicate beauty and affection.”

You pout at him, “I am not delicate!”

“Of course not baby.” He pecks your nose. 

You blush at the nickname and soft show of affection.

[mediaeval-muse]

Book Review

Wicked Intentions. By Elizabeth Hoyt. New York: Forever Publishing, 2010.

Rating: 2/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Part of a Series? Yes, Maiden Lane Series #1

Summary: A man controlled by his desires . . . Infamous for his wild, sensual needs, Lazarus Huntington, Lord Caire, is searching for a savage killer in St. Giles, London's most notorious slum. Widowed Temperance Dews knows St. Giles like the back of her hand-she's spent a lifetime caring for its inhabitants at the foundling home her family established. Now that home is at risk . . . A woman haunted by her past . . . Caire makes a simple offer-in return for Temperance's help navigating the perilous alleys of St. Giles, he will introduce her to London's high society so that she can find a benefactor for the home. But Temperance may not be the innocent she seems, and what begins as cold calculation soon falls prey to a passion that neither can control-one that may well destroy them both. A bargain neither could refuse.

***Full review under the cut.***

Trigger Warnings: violence; blood; dubious consent; sexual content; references to childhood neglect

Overview: I initially picked up this book because I adored the sex worker-positive themes in The Raven Prince, and I was hoping for some similar attitudes in this book (even if it wasn’t about sex work). Unfortunately, I didn’t find Wicked Intentions nearly as captivating as The Raven Prince. It’s not that the idea for this book is bad - I think there were some interesting themes thrown around, and the class difference between the two protagonists could have been an interesting angle to the development of their relationship. However, I personally found the hero to be insufferable, and the writing detracted from the overall sentiments of the novel.

Writing: This book primarily suffers from what I think is poor craft. Hoyt seems to not know when a scene is warranted versus when it can be skipped over or abbreviated, often inserting moments that are just conversations between characters which summarize a scene we’ve just read. For example, there’s a point when Temperance spends the night at Lazarus’ mansion to take care of his infected wound. When she returns home, she finds herself confronted by her brothers who are concerned for her well-being and reputation. Hoyt gives us a conversation between them where Temperance explains her relationship with Lazarus, what she was doing that night, and why she didn’t go to her brothers for financial help, none of which is new information to the reader, nor does it develop the relationship between Temperance and her siblings in meaningful ways. Her brothers disappear and don’t show up again for some time.

Speaking of conversations, this book also suffers from a disproportionate ratio of dialogue to description. Much of this book is dialogue, which means that information is mostly relayed through character speech - including what characters are doing in the scenes. Moreover, the sparse attention to describing what things look, smell, or feel like means that this book doesn’t have a strong sense of atmosphere. For example, there is a scene in which when Lazarus passingly remarks on the stench of a gin joint but the book doesn’t describe what that smell was like, and another where Temperance is enraptured by a musical number but the book does not describe what the music sounded like or why it provoked such emotions in her. I also didn’t get the sense that the slum was slum because the setting was never treated as a character in its own right, and I think the book as a whole suffered for it.

I also think Hoyt doesn’t quite know how to use intertextuality to great effect. Each chapter of this book (as with The Raven Prince) opens with excerpts from a fictional fairy tale, which, when taken altogether, are supposed to parallel the themes of the novel as a whole. However, not all excerpts line up with the contents of each chapter, so the fairy tale is only connected to the main narrative on a surface level. For me, intertextuality needs to be more consistent to be effective.

Lastly, I don’t think Hoyt quite knew how to create suspense. Not only were there no clues for the reader to try to piece together regarding the main murder plot, but Hoyt withholds a lot of information regarding Temperance’s and Lazarus’ personal secrets. We’re told that Temperance has some dark spot on her past, and allusions to her “sin” crops up every once and a while, but combined with the lack of motivation to solve the main mystery, I was more frustrated than intrigued. I’m a firm believer that too much information withheld is actually counterproductive; suspense involves a careful balance of making just enough information available to make someone want to keep reading without withholding so much that they become disinterested. I don’t think this book achieved that balance.

Plot: The main plot of this novel revolves around two protagonists who need something from one another. Temperance, our heroine, runs a foundling home (something like an orphanage) in a crime-ridden slum of London, and is in need of a patron to keep the doors open. Lazarus, our hero, is an aristocrat who needs help investigating the murder of his mistress, who was found dead in St. Giles. He agrees to help Temperance find a patron among the upper class if she helps him navigate St. Giles. On the surface, it seems like the characters’ business relationship could be productive for exploring themes such as class, charity, etc. However, things got off to a rocky start, only to go downhill (in my opinion) from there.

Not much was done to show that Temperance was very street-smart, so Lazarus’ decision to ask her for help seemed rather random. For all Hoyt’s insistence that Temperance knows St. Giles like the back of her hand, she doesn’t necessarily go anywhere or do anything that Lazarus himself couldn’t do himself (albeit a little slower). She seems to offer no unique knowledge that actually helps with the mystery, and even the formation of their business relationship was so contrived that it stretched the bounds of believability. Lazarus decides to ask Temperance for help simply because he saw her in the street at night, returning to the foundling home after rescuing a new charge, and he does so by following her and breaking into her house. That Temperance accepts so coolly, even considering her financial desperation, seemed so far from what a rational woman would do that I had trouble accepting it.

From there, the plot seemed to mostly revolve around putting Temperance in awkward situations so that Lazarus could swoop in and (try to) save her or make crude sexual remarks. I couldn’t bring myself to feel invested in the murder plot because Lazarus himself didn’t seem to know why he was trying to catch the killer (he explicitly states that he’s not sure if he’s doing it because he’s bored or because he thinks he ought to feel something for his mistress, when he doesn’t). Temperance’s pursuit of a patron was a little more interesting, since I felt like she was actually invested in her foundling home, but even when she’s being an amazing negotiator, finding her way in upper class gatherings that are unfamiliar to her, her agency is undercut by Lazarus, who hovers and seems to dictate where she goes, who she speaks to, etc.

The side plot with Temperance’s sister, Silence, is also somewhat awkwardly inserted. Silence’s story revolves around her trying to save her husband from financial ruin and jail by making a bargain with the most notorious thief in London. While I could admire her initiative, I ultimately thought it was so disconnected from the main plot that it distracted rather than enhanced the narrative as a whole. That Temperance herself didn’t seem to think about it much also made me skeptical of its importance, and Hoyt spends so little time on it that it felt like it didn’t need to be included at all.

Characters: Temperance, our heroine, is admirable as a confident, compassionate mistress of a foundling home in the roughest part of London. I liked that she was so invested in her charges and the running of the home, and that she was willing to risk her life and reputation for her cause. Even when she later reveals that she’s doing all of this out of some misguided sense of penance, I could admire the way she took charge of running such an operation, and the responsibility she accepts. I also liked that she showed kindness to people who least deserved it, partially out of a sense of Christian duty, but also out of what I saw as a desire to see people for who they truly are, not for where they were on a social hierarchy. I wish Hoyt had leaned into this more.

However, my admiration did not extend to Lazarus, our hero. He’s an archetype that I’m frankly sick of seeing: a gruff loner who is overly possessive of his love interest, making constant references to how he feels no emotions and doesn’t thinks he deserves kindness. He was described as a “predator” more than once, which I can only assume was supposed to be darkly alluring in that alpha-male/bad boy kind of way, but personally, I found it tiresome to watch him manipulate Temperance for his own amusement. He would frequently make mean or crude remarks just to provoke anger or embarrassment in Temperance, mostly because he found the prospect of “breaking” her arousing. I would have much preferred to see someone who was a little damaged (as we all are) with actual flaws, but who was compassionate under the facade. For example, maybe Lazarus could have been great with children, thus making him invested in Temperance’s foundling home, or maybe his selfish hedonism could clash with Temperance’s charitable interests in ways that brought out productive methods of dealing with Lazarus’ past. Something more than just “bad boy is an asshole to everyone he meets because his childhood trauma makes him feel nothing.”

The supporting characters had the potential to be more interesting if they had been given more to do. Temperance’s siblings, for example, had compelling personal stories, and I found their relationships to each other to be intriguing, if only they had been explored a little more. Her sister Silence is admirable as an agentive woman who takes matters into her own hands when pushed, and her brother Winter’s sense of duty and genuine concern for his family - even at the cost to his own health - is quite sweet. Even Lazarus had some people around him that I found enjoyable. For example, he has a single “friend” (of you can call him that) named St. John, who calls out Lazarus’ selfishness and challenges him in ways that I think could have been used more effectively to develop Lazarus’ character. Lady Hero, a duke’s daughter who becomes acquainted with Temperance during upper class parties, is remarkably humble and kind, and I found myself wishing that Temperance would dump Lazarus and just go for Hero (they had much more genuine chemistry, borne out of real interest and kindness, than Temperance and Lazarus).

Other: I’ve seen a couple reviews complaining about the lack of historical accuracy in this book, but honestly, that’s not the problem. You can have women be agentive (and respected!) before the advent of feminist thought or have people talk about emotional/mental pain before the advent of formal psychology - formal institutions do not necessarily indicate the beginning of an idea. Because Lazarus was such an unlikable love interest, I did not find the blooming relationship between him and Temperance engaging. Their romance centers around each learning to deal with their pasts - Lazarus learns to care about a woman as opposed to using them to satisfy his sexual urges, and Temperance learns to let go of her past guilt. I don’t like starting from a place of “man views women as objects for his pleasure.” It’s not an attractive flaw. Make him a rake, sure, but have him actually see women as people, for god’s sake. Because Lazarus was so possessive and tormented Temperance for his own amusement for the first half of the book, and for the second, he was learning that he could actually care about a woman as a person, it never felt like he was truly learning to put her well-being first, just that he liked her for what she could do for him. I also disliked how upset he got when he assumed Temperance was using him for sex - like he’s one to get angry about that when he’s done the same thing to countless women.

Their relationship also seemed ill-suited in that Temperance states multiple times that her involvement with Lazarus has caused her to neglect her duties, both to the foundling home and to her family. I think such a realization could have been used productively to explore how selfish desire can be destructive, or, considering what Temperance is really feeling guilty about, there could have been some interesting commentary on how society views female sexuality as inherently sinful. However, it seemed to me that Hoyt wasn’t interested in these larger ideas.

When Lazarus and Temperance do engage in sexual activity, I had mixed feelings. Lazarus has this thing where he can’t bear physical touch unless he’s the one initiating. How convenient. This means that more often than not, sexual activity is on his terms. I’ve read books before with this type of touch-aversion, and I’ve read books that did it well. But in this case, it was uncomfortable because it was accompanied by the desire to “break” or “liberate” his partner. Granted, over time, he does become more receptive to Temperance initiating intimacy, which is great, but I honestly couldn’t see it as much more than an excuse to be a dominant asshole.

Despite Lazarus learning to let Temperance initiate, the issue of consent was frequently blurred. There are scenes when he refuses to stop what he’s doing (out of the misguided sense of helping her “let loose”) and one where he refuses to untie her from the bed unless she discloses what’s bothering her. The timing of their sexual activity is also usually inappropriate. For example, Temperance meets with a would-be patron only to discover he wants to have a sexual relationship with her. The patron kisses her non-consentually and probably would have assaulted her, but Temperance twists his ear to disable him, and Lazarus bursts in and whisks her away at the right moment. Soon after, Temperance kisses Lazarus passionately. Later, Temperance’s sister makes a bargain with a notorious thief to save her husband from financial ruin. He agrees to help her in exchange for her spending the night with him and walking down the street in a disheveled state after, ruining her reputation. Silence insists that the thief didn’t touch her and was only interested in making her appear ruined (why? just to be terrible?), and says that she only went to the thief because she thought Temperance was too busy to care. When Temperance learns of what happened, she goes to Lazarus in tears. He kisses her and she falls asleep at his house. Not soon after, they have sex for the first time. Temperance doesn’t attempt to get in touch with her sister for some time after. It seemed to me, then, that Silence was right, and maybe Temperance does have something to feel guilty for - not her sexuality, pe se, but the way she allows it to run her life.

Speaking of sexuality, I disliked the way kink was handled for the majority of this book. Lazarus is notorious for his “deviant sexuality” - he enjoys blindfolding and tying his sexual partners to the bed, partly because he can’t bear to be touched unless he initiates it, and partly because he can’t bear to have these women look him in the eye and “see him.” With Temperance, of course, it’s different. He doesn’t want to have kinky sex with her until she initiates it, and she only does so in the attempt to punish herself for "sin.” It turns out ok later, but much more time is spent viewing it as shameful than normal.

And lastly, there were some moment which, while not outright offensive, were nevertheless... not great. A bunch of prostitutes are brutally murdered. Lazarus’ manpain is driven by the death of his sister. Temperance decides to attract a patron by having an open house, inviting rich people to come gawk at their poverty because “viewing the unfortunate... was fashionable.” I dunno.

Continuing with the series? Unless there’s a novel that’s fairly highly rated, probably not.

Recommendations: I would recommend this book if you’re interested in 18th century England, historical romance, murder mysteries, differences in social class, and kink.

[beatlejuice64]

Destiel Season 11: A catalog of Supernatural episodes

A catalog of each episode in Supernatural that features scenes related to Destiel. This includes scenes between Dean and Castiel, scenes with other characters that address their relationship with each other, and scenes that allude to Dean’s bisexuality.

Season 11 Summary Analysis

Cas experiences intense PTSD after being brutally beaten by Dean (who was influenced by the Mark of Cain) and after brutally beating up Dean (while under Rowena’s spell). Dean feels more and more drawn to Amara over the course of the season, and it makes him uncomfortable. Cas lets Lucifer possess him in a last-ditch effort to help defeat Amara. Dean tries to save Cas from Lucifer’s possession but fails, and he obsessively searches for him when he’s taken by Amara. Dean is relieved when Castiel resurfaces and tells Cas he’s the best friend he’s ever had.

My interpretation: Dean feels intense guilt for brutally attacking Cas at the end of the previous season, and Cas feels the same guilt after beating up Dean while spellbound. Cas feels useless while he’s paralyzed by PTSD, and he lets Lucifer possess him out of a sense of desperation to be helpful—he sees self-sacrifice as the best option because he can’t face the possibility of hurting Dean again. Dean is incredulous that Cas would let Lucifer posses him willingly—at first, he can’t believe it because he believes so staunchly in Castiel’s goodness. Dean tries hard to save Cas from Lucifer’s possession because he can’t stand seeing the man he cares for behaving like the Devil, and he‘s not willing to risk Castiel’s life for the greater good. Dean’s attraction to Amara freaks him out, partially because he doesn’t want it to interfere with his closeness to Cas. Experiencing Castiel’s absence for an extended period of time helps Dean see how much he values Castiel’s company, and he feels bad for not being there for Cas earlier in the season when he was struggling with trauma. Dean makes sure to tell Cas how he feels after Lucifer is expelled from him. Cas is touched by Dean’s sentiment, knowing how rare it is for Dean to let others get close to him. Cas appreciates Dean calling him a friend and brother, knowing that brotherhood is the highest compliment Dean can give to someone. As Dean is gearing up to sacrifice himself to defeat Amara, Cas is distraught and does not want to leave Dean’s side.

11.01 Out of the Darkness, Into the Fire

When Cas calls Dean, he urgently wants to know whether the Mark of Cain has been removed from Dean.

11.02 Form and Void

Castiel’s angel torturers recognize his consistent prioritization of the Winchesters over heaven: “What are you?” “What? I’m an angel of the Lord.” “That so? ‘Cause near as I can tell, when you have to choose between heaven and the Winchesters, you choose them. Every time.”

Cas refuses to give Sam and Dean up to the angels, even to Hannah.

11.03 The Bad Seed

Dean and Sam try everything they can to find Rowena to help cure the spell she put on Cas.

When Sam insults Castiel’s car, he’s offended. Dean tries to make him feel better: “You think it’s crappy?” “Eye of the beholder.”

After Cas feints, Dean puts him back in his chair and wraps him in a blanket.

Dean is able to help Cas resist his compulsion to kill a someone while under Rowena’s spell.

Cas starts seizing when Rowena lifts the spell, and Dean cradles Castiel’s head in his hands.

Cas apologizes to Dean for beating him up while under the spell: “Dean, I... there aren’t words.” “You’re right. There aren’t words, Cas, ‘cause there’s no need. You were under a spell. It’s fine.”

Dean declines Castiel’s offer to heal him because he feels bad for beating up Cas while under the Mark of Cain’s influence: “Dean, I can fix that.” “No, no no, it’s fine, Cas. Besides, I had it comin’.”

11.04 Baby

Sam asks Dean if he ever wishes he could have something more meaningful than a one night stand: “You don’t ever want something more?” “I’m sorry, have you met us? We’re battin’ a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs.” “You don’t ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever, but something? You know, with a hunter, somebody who understands the life?” “Have you not heard a single word Bob’s been singin’ about?“

11.06 Our Little World

Dean tries to keep Cas out of the hunting scene out of sense of protectiveness: “Oh, what? You think he’s ready? He’s had a pretty rough go of it lately.” “Which one of us hasn’t? Seems insane to leave our one and only angel friend on the bench.”

Dean shows concern for Castiel’s mental health when he finds out he’s been binge-watching tv: “You sound weird, okay? Bad weird. Now, I’ve been down that road before. I’ve heard the siren song from the idiot box, and I’m tellin’ you, whatever you’re lookin’ for, you won’t find it in there. So do me a favor—turn off the tv, go outside and get some air. We’re in the dark here, pal. I need you back in the game, okay?”

Castiel tries to follow Dean’s advice to get out of the bunker, but he can’t bring himself to do it because he’s traumatized by the violence and mind control he’s experienced recently. The two most prominent flashbacks he has are of him beating up Dean while spellbound and Dean beating him up when he had the Mark of Cain.

Sam jokes about Dean’s relationship with Crowley: “Oh, right. I keep forgetting about you and Crowley’s summer of love.”

Metatron recognizes Castiel’s trauma: “You have gone full wuss. Now, I dunno what it was that happened, but whatever it was, you are scarred deep, paralyzed by trauma, by fear. I mean, look at you. You can’t even hit me.”

Crowley brings up the closeness that occurred between him and Dean the previous season: “Do you know how disturbing it was to realize that I couldn’t bring myself to kill you? I’ve had tons of chances over the years, some you don’t even know about, but still, I made my peace with it, embraced my softer side, learned to accept that there was just too much going on between you and I—bromance.”

Dean lies about not killing Amara, and Cas looks skeptical about the truth of his claim: “You said you were close. Dean, how’d she get away?” “I’m sorry, what part of ‘God’s freakin’ sister’ did you not understand? She overpowered me. End of story.”

11.08 Just My Imagination

The flamboyance and expressiveness of the Zanna make Dean very uncomfortable. He has difficulty taking them seriously at first, but he later tells Sully that he and his kind are a “good weird.”

11.09 O Brother Where Art Thou?

Amara kisses Dean, and he kisses her back. Then he pulls back suddenly, weirded out by it. Amara says the two of them are “bonded” and that they belong together, but Dean rejects the idea.

11.10 The Devil in the Details

Cas gets up in Dean‘s grill to diagnose his smiting sickness, but Dean pushes him away when he offers to take Dean’s temperature with his finger.

Amara recognizes Castiel’s lingering trauma: “You think I’m afraid to die?” “I know you are. You reek of fear and self-loathing.”

Lucifer is on the verge of killing Dean, but Cas tackles him before he can. He then lets Lucifer possess him.

Dean checks on Cas after they leave hell to make sure he’s alright.

11.11 Into the Mystic

Dean confides in Cas (Lucifer) about his failure to kill Amara. Casifer asks Dean if he’s drawn to Amara out of attraction, and Dean admits to it: “I know, okay? Whatever it is—attraction, connection—I gotta tell ya, man, it scares me. I don’t know that I can stop it. I don’t know that I can resist it.”

While Lucifer is posing as Cas, he performs a high level of affection toward Dean.

Dean notices that there’s “something off” about Cas, but Sam doesn’t pick up on it.

Dean feels so disturbed about his feelings toward Amara that he can’t sleep.

11.13 Love Hurts

Dean is cursed with being hunted by a qareen who takes the form of its victim’s deepest darkest desire, and for Dean, it takes the form of Amara.

Sam helps Dean understand that he doesn’t have to feel guilty about his attraction: “It was Amara.” “That surprise you?” “That doesn’t surprise you?” “Honestly?” “Honestly. What, you seriously think the sister of God is my deepest, darkest desire?” “She isn’t?” “No! She can’t be.” “Why not?” “Why? Because if she was, then that means I’m...” “Means you’re what? Complicit? Weak? Evil?” “For starters, yeah.” “Dean, do you honestly think you ever had a choice in the matter? She’s the sister of God, and for some reason, she picked you, and that sucks, but if you think I’m gonna blame you or judge you, I’m not.”

11.14 The Vessel

When Lucifer threatens to kill Sam, Cas resists his control, but he won’t eject Lucifer because they need him to bring Dean back from the past.

Dean refuses to believe that Cas would willingly let Lucifer possess him, even though Sam does: “Lucifer may be in control now, but Cas may not come back willingly. I mean, he chose it.” “No. No, not possible.”

11.15 Beyond the Mat

Dean is adamant about saving Cas from Lucifer, even though Sam isn’t convinced that’s what he wants: “...if he wants to be saved.” “He does. Even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

Dean feels extra “burnt” after finding out Lucifer is possessing Cas, so he takes Sam to a wrestling event.

Dean is disturbed by seeing a childhood icon sell his soul, and he doubles down on his determination to save Cas and win the day: “Dean, you know what? He made a bad decision. We’ve been there.” “Yeah. Yeah, you, me, now Cas.” “Dean, we’ll get him back. We will. We just gotta...” “Keep grindin’. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how hard it gets, you gotta keep grindin’.” “Right.” “And that’s how we’re gonna win. And we’re gonna win. We’re gonna save Cas, we’re gonna ice the devil, and we’re gonna shank the darkness. And anyone that gets in our way, well, God help ‘em.”

11.17 Red Meat

When Sam presents a case possibility and Dean doesn’t want to go, Sam recognizes that Dean is obsessing over finding a way to save Cas: “We’ll get him back.” “How?” “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. Meantime, we gotta get outta here, clear our heads. This is a case. Let’s do what we do. Let’s work it.”

11.18 Hell’s Angel

Dean prioritizes Castiel’s safety when planning to take down Amara, but Sam disagrees with him: “Priority is to put the Horn in Lucifer’s hands and set him loose on Amara.” “After we exorcise Lucifer out of Cas and put him into a new vessel.” “What? Really?” “Yes, really. I’m not gonna send Lucifer into battle inside Cas. What if he doesn’t make it?” “Dean, it’s a strong vessel. It’s held Cas for years, and we know what he’s been through. I’m guessing it can hold Lucifer.” “It? It’s not an ‘it’, Sam. It’s Cas.” “And Cas wanted to do this.” “Yeah, well, there’s times I want to get slapped during sex by a girl wearin’ a Zorro mask. That don’t make it a good idea.” “Dean, this is exactly how we screw ourselves. We make the heart choice instead of the smart choice.” “Oh, okay. Thank you, Dr. Phil. Cas is family.” “Yes, and his choice deserves to be respected.” “Even if it kills him?”

Dean is distraught after failing his attempt to talk to Cas without Lucifer hearing. Dean is taken aback when Lucifer mocks him for yelling out for Cas.

When Crowley enters Castiel’s mind to convince him to expel Lucifer, Cas is only willing to consider it after realizing it’s what Dean wants: “Wait, that was Dean I saw a minute ago, wasn’t it?” “Yes.” “And he wants me to expel Lucifer?” “Yes!” “Well, he may have a more objective view of the situation. Maybe I should.”

Even after realizing that they can’t get Lucifer out of Cas, Dean still calls out to him before Amara leaves with Lucifer.

11.19 The Chitters

Sam is concerned about Dean losing sleep during his obsessive search to find Cas: “Dean, we’ll find Cas, okay? He’s stronger than he looks.” “You know, we gambled with Cas, and now Amara has him.” “For a reason, which means he’s still alive.” “I’ve been with Amara. Her beef is with the big guys—with God, with Lucifer. The small fries, even an angel like Cas, doesn’t even register. And if it meant hurting Lucifer, killing Cas would mean nothing to her.”

When Dean finds out the two hunters they’ve met are a romantic couple, he takes an interest: “What’s it like settling down with a hunter?” “Smelly, dirty. Twice the worrying about getting ganked.”

Dean is tempted to ask the couple to help them find Cas and defeat Amara, but he doesn’t have the heart to pull them out of retirement: “Two hunters who make it to the finish line?” “Yeah, you leave that alone.”

11.21 We Happy Few

Dean continues to worry about Cas while the gang is gearing up to take on Amara: “...After that, it’s Lucifer’s turn. Physical attack, one on one.” “What about Cas?” “Oh, don’t worry. Your pet’s safety is my highest concern. Trust me, he’s on board.”

11.22 Alpha and Omega

As soon as Amara leaves, Dean goes to check on Cas, and he’s relieved to see that Cas is himself again.

Dean recognizes Castiel’s distress and tries to make him feel better by telling him how much he values him: “How you doin’? Good? I mean, you know, the whole Lucifer thing...” “I was just SO stupid.” “No, no, no. It wasn’t stupid. You were right. You were right to let Lucifer ride shotgun. Me and Sam wouldn’t have done that.” “Well, it didn’t work.” “No, but it was our best shot, and you stepped up.” “I WAS just trying to help.” “Well, and you DO help, Cas. You know, sometimes me and Sam have got so much goin’ on that we forget about everyone else.” “Well, you do live exciting lives.” “Yeah, that’s one word for it. But you’re always there, ya know? You’re the best friend we’ve ever had.” “You’re our brother, Cas. I want you to know that.” “Thank you.”

Cas is worried about Dean after Rowena puts the soul bomb inside of him: “Dean, are you okay? How do you feel?”

As Dean is getting ready to go sacrifice himself, Cas gives him a giant hug, and Dean hugs him back. Cas also offers to go with him. Dean demonstrates the trust he has in Cas by asking him to look out for Sam. Cas agrees, and Dean thanks him “for everything.”

Dean tries to be macho, but Sam calls bullshit on him: “No chick flick moments, come on.” “Yeah, you love chick flicks.” “Yeah, you’re right. I do. Come here.”

When the gang sees the sun getting brighter, Castiel’s first thought is whether Dean survived.

[strangebedfellows-blog]

Miscellaneous and chill little establishing headcanon dump for some of my l.oz people, because they’re delightful and since I’ve never actually interacted with this fandom I’m not sure what’s commonly accepted and what’s coming purely out of my own head, so here’s some kind of framework. Ones involving other characters or the world at large are just there to give myself context, and obviously nobody else is beholden to ‘em.

Also because I’m too lazy to get to bio pages left and they deserve something.

Cool edit: hey personals, don’t interact with this post. Don’t like it, definitely don’t fucking reblog it. Oh my god. Basic etiquette. It’s not tagged with their general tags for a reason.

VAATI

It’s indulgent of me, but for the record, I like to think he won the swordfighting competition largely of his own merit. I like to think he’s smart enough to know he could have just...magic’d his way past it altogether if he wanted, but it sounds like he actually competed. 

I HAVE MORE BUT I’M JUST GOING TO EDIT THEM IN SOMETIME LATER WHEN I REBLOG THIS I’m typing at like four in the morning why must I dedicate this time to angry wind maus

ZANT

Comin’ in out of the gate: it’s silly personal headcanon but I generally peg the Twili as ancient Sheikah counterparts - part of the same community that split and cut ties firmly enough that by the time they were banished most people had forgotten, and the differences great enough that the latter was never in any jeopardy. They do have deific ties to Majora and the Fierce Deity, though it’s been so long there’s no telling if active worship...exists.

Is actually competent, and intelligent. Midna notes that he didn’t end up ruling the realm because people could pick up on his power lust, but no mention is made of the fact the dude is...a lunatic, and Midna seems to register it as something unfamiliar when he flies off the handle toward the end of the game. I think he kept an incredibly tight rein on himself at absolutely all times in the specific hopes of seeming collected and controlled enough to rule, and his outbursts only really started after he was passed over. They clearly kept him around for awhile despite knowing they wouldn’t be crowning him, so it stands to reason Zant is genuinely good at whatever his precise role was, and a magic user of some significant finesse. Not raw power, not until Ganondorf, but incredible dexterity when applied to delicate tasks. 

In the same vein as viewing the normal Hyrulean royal family as one certainly responsible for performing or enabling some heinous things, I assume the same could be said of the Twili royals. While I believe Zant’s “served and endured in that depraved household” is an embellishment he’s making spitefully because he’s narcissistic and falling apart, there’s a kernel of important truth. There likely were goings-on that would seem shady to us. I can’t imagine specifics, but it’s worth mentioning that Zant was not the only of the Twili who wanted to return to the real world, and while he had violence on the mind, one could certainly guess there were others who would have been more than content just negotiating a return, and to share it. It’s nevertheless treated entirely as some unreasonable desire, despite...the fact...they were ejected from their home and left to their realm so long they’re markedly different, so much so their previous environment kills them. ( One can only imagine adapting to the Twilight Realm was unpleasant, for the first over. )

50% of the reason he loses is because he’s a moron and an indulgent moron, who just can’t sate himself with winning; he has to win and having a living loser to point at and laugh. He has to have someone he can personally lord over, living testaments to the power of his wrath. If he smartened up enough to just kill people, I...really don’t think he’d have lost that one. 

The other 50% is that he’s so utterly unused to Ganondorf’s power, which is overwhelming in both volume and intensity. Zant can warp reality with it. He is, in some important sense, something of a god. And that’s so much that he, who is incredibly well practiced with making more efficient use of less magic, has no goddamn clue what to do with it. It’s difficult to channel and control, and the result are broad sweeps that are chosen for dramatic effect or specifically because they eat up enough to keep him comfortable, rather than practicality.

I’m not sure where I’m going with it, but it’s fascinating to me that most Twili seem to be pretty skin-baring whereas he doesn’t even show his neck under the helmet, and places such a clear focus on fabricating bulk that just isn’t there. I like to think parts of his outfit have weights, and it was partially an effort to physically restrain himself from any reactive-contorting at work. Sometimes you wanna break your spine but that would look most uncouth. 

Not a physical fighter. Hit hard, hit fast, hit erratic, then collapse because you can’t breathe. Twili are in general much more inclined toward magic than traditional fisticuffs, but Zant’s exceptionally physically weak among even them. Reedy ‘n Dweeby.

SIDON

Incurably shy kid, believe it or not. The complete lack of dialogue of his in Mipha’s memory was actually entirely because Zelda was there; he would have been sheepish enough had it been any outside figure, but especially someone he understood to be so important - how could he speak? So small. Sheepish. A lot less confident in himself than he’d eventually become, and Mipha’s gentle encouragement ( and its legacy ) was definitely the biggest factor in changing that.

Really really really worried, constantly, that he’s a drain on people. It’s something of a holdover from his shy youth, but also backed up by a lot of what he can observe. He places a great deal more pressure on himself after Mipha’s death as the new heir ( he was never supposed to be, and would honestly be a much more sincerely at ease adult had it not come down to him ), more than, frankly, anyone around him has. As clearly beloved as he is, and with the fairly warm and encouraging person we can surmise his father to be, there’s some demanding little tug he feels toward inadequacy at all times. He’s incredibly empathetic and not being able to assist everyone all the time, despite the impossibility, hurts him. 

He’s a little too warm-hearted and emotional, he feels, to be the ideal ruler. He’s far too dedicated to proving to others and himself that he could be, however, to fully indulge his personable and down to earth side. He’s caught teetering quite awkwardly on the edge where he can’t reap the benefits of his charming personality OR dedicated focus and work ethic. 

His father never told him Mipha was dead, as he refused to believe it himself. Most zora were split, but eventually enough people seemed defeated enough while murmuring about the matter, the statue went up, and Sidon was first forced to put it together for himself that she really, truly wasn’t coming back. The single most devastating day of his life, and to think it was years after the fact. He hurts more for it, and it’s part of the reason his night visitations are so constant.

On a happier note, he absolutely does tiny swimming drills with little zora kids whenever he can find the time and get a gaggle together. Much whistle blowing, big exaggerated gestures, so much encouragement, it’s a great time all around. 

Seeing Zelda and Link makes him regress, just the faintest touch; he certainly idolized Zelda as a child, and despite having some sister-stealing-related animosity towards Link, had spent the remainder of his youth looking up to him as well. It’s two childhood heroes perfectly preserved and dropped back in front of him, which is quite a happy and confusing shock. It brings a lot of Mipha back to mind, which is bittersweet, but he’s also...doggedly determined to try and prove himself to them, despite their approval meaning nothing at all for him beyond sentiment. 

No you really don’t understand how cool he thought Zelda was

Definitely....accidentally....got more than a handful of Hylians killed, trying to run them through what Link did. This is actually why he has to stop and check on you every leg of the way -- he really is concerned, and it’s a self-reassurance as much as he hopes it’s just normal reassurance for Link.  

REVALI

Doesn’t hate Link. Really. It would need to be coming from a much more intense, much more personal place to truly register as hate. He does, however, IMMENSELY DISLIKE him. It isn’t any kind of confused expression of affection -- I can’t stress enough, the antagonism is pure and genuine. Revali feels incredibly real bitterness toward Link, and to an extent that ever getting past it would be an entire arc in itself. An arc that’d literally be longer than his life, mind you.

I see it crop up a lot so it might be wide fanon? I wouldn’t know - I do generally believe he was an orphan, and Hyrule is so packed with ways to die I couldn’t begin to pin down a cause yet. That said I don’t imagine Revali himself would know, having lost his parents quite early in life and refusing information initially because it hurt, and after that because he convinced himself he was better not knowing. He was for the most part a fairly serious child, simultaneously aggressive and clingy. I imagine he was raised in a foster sort of setting, with an older guardian who passed naturally and with little fanfare when he was a young adult. They got on well enough, and they likely encouraged his at-first-shot adoration for archery ( as is Rito custom, but also Revali’s interest in its own right ) and let him have what space he wanted. Which was a lot. Solitary, even back then. He didn’t take many pains to involve himself with the community and was typically given a lukewarm reception. 

A completely unimpressive shot, initially, but he took to flying at a little more impressive a pace. Not exceptional at either for a long while. He got exceptional by working at it on a daily basis for...honestly, the entirety of his life after he first picked it up. No exaggeration. Minimal breaks taken, and only to make sure he had minimal time to heal or rest his muscles when sorely needed, and never more. He had some small reserve of natural affinity, but by and large his success came entirely because he worked his ass of for it. He took it seriously, kept at it, stayed passionate about getting better; not for a particular reason, even. He had most of the village’s best archers thoroughly outclassed* in his late teens ( or Rito equivalent ) and though he was a ways from even conceptualizing the Gale, was a thoroughly adept flier. He didn’t care particularly much about warrior-ing as a career but assumed it was where he would end up, and in the meantime supported himself comfortably enough through inheritance and some horribly tedious job nobody recalls because he glared them into taking it to their graves. This was eventually swapped with competition winnings as his star ascended. 

*  I’d like to note I generally don’t think the Rito are actually renowned archers, and it’s more of a cultural thing than one of skill. Revali asked for a practice range to practice at more elevations, which sounds like the sort of thing they’d have to begin with if they were putting intense focus on archery in combat. Revali’s skill wasn’t notable or locally renowned as some kind of curiosity, it was because he was outperforming actual warriors and taking an icon of theirs to new heights, and at a relatively young age. Note that no one else can make physical use of his bow, after his death. It’s not just that he’s good, it’s that he actually IS better at it than anyone else in the area. And this is before he invents the Gale. Additionally, he was entirely self-taught beyond the rudimentary tips to help him start flying as a young’un. It was difficult, but he isn’t broken up about it. On the contrary, it freed him to go at everything at his own overintense pace, and work on outdoing everything rather than necessarily polishing his grasp of basics before he absolutely had to. He really values self-reliance in others, for reasons like this.

It’s small, but his ‘I...could get used to this’ is enough to convince me in addition to being more stoic in his youth, he was something approaching humble. It’s not entirely that the sudden onslaught of praise overinflated his ego - it did, but that’s not all of it - but also that he felt the amount of praise was proportionate to the blood, sweat, and tears he had put into getting so good. He had no friends, mind you, no family, and beyond the one mention of Rito children looking up to him and the general legacy he left behind as a visionary in his craft, he didn’t have much of a life. He certainly enjoys it in an annoying way, but I think there’s some merit to the zeal.

I get the vague impression Rito are fairly removed, and while not unfriendly are a little closed off from other cultures. Revali reflects this, partially in his implied low opinion of Hylians.

Of the champions, Mipha and Zelda are his favorites by a ridiculous margin. Not that it shows all that often. The Mipha smile though? Significant. She’s Theeeeee favorite. ( Not that this means he didn’t probably pick on young Sidon, just a touch. )

Died because...I mean, the plot, but also because he was tired ( the distance he had to travel to get to Medoh, and in one go, isn’t ideal ), more shaken than he would admit on pain of a hundred deaths ( at what he’d seen on the way there, surely more chaos than he was accustomed to ), and the corruption of Medoh hit him especially hard as he had REALLY bonded with it. The ‘winging it’ line is partially true; after all of that, he...panicked, a little. 

The lack of living people that remember him? Eats at him way way way way way way way way way way way more than he’ll ever let anyone know. He’s a real sad bird, inside.

GHIRAHIM

His baseline ‘personality’ / set of functions is, at the core, largely a mirror of Fi. He is the version of himself that we know only because he refused to linger in his sword state -- ambition and initiative were things he had much more of than she did, and largely lacking in the tactful patience that’s more or less served her well. Being crafted rather than born and manifesting himself on his own, he at no point had anything resembling a guiding figure or much by way of...normal socialization. The lack of anything resembling a traditional foundation coupled with the RIDICULOUS amount of time he spent in incredibly mixed company seeking out whatever might help him locate his master, and the frustration that comes with such immense and ongoing failure, contribute as much to the end result as anything he was made / ‘born’ with. 

He actually isn’t an astonishing combatant against someone intelligent who knows what they’re up against; he is himself aware of this, and takes what other advantages he can get. I typically view Link defeating him as fair integration of gameplay and story and not something that had to happen for the plot - it ultimately came down to the sword Link was using. Ghirahim isn’t at his most powerful unless he’s in sword form, as that’s what he was designed to be, and some substantial portion of his energy is likely wasted on manifesting physically at all, any magic he performs, teleportation, so on and so forth. He can read people, he has his magical origins on his side, and he’s certainly strong, and all of those things are enough to fell whatever unfortunate people or monsters initially tried to attack him, but up against non-laymen and in the name of cutting down needless-but-numerous future challengers it’s in his interest to blow himself out of proportion. He’s a fantastic talker, good at making an impression, and once the first crop is afraid of him, it just snowballs until he doesn’t need to do much of anything - I imagine ‘Lord Ghirahim’ was something he didn’t actually come up with himself, but heard once and liked it so much he went out and made everyone do it. 

There’s some level of discontent with his ultimate fate, but it’s buried under his own resolute refusal to acknowledge or explore it consciously because he was made to serve and to serve one purpose, and was not intended for any higher aspirations, and because even on an unconscious level, his very being can’t accept it for long. During his impressive span of relative isolation and lording over scant surface-folk / monsters, he grew just a touch beyond his programming. Make no mistake, this doesn’t make him less of a threat -- has to or not, he is nothing short of a fanatic and would still do anything at all for Demise or to spite Hylia -- it’s merely that he briefly lets his mind wander, and suffers a somewhat human need to justify himself, which he has. ( In fact it makes him worse, because he’s gone from something of a mindless tool of cruelty to someone actively seeking it out, having convinced themselves quite firmly of its necessity and value. ) A general Thing I run with re: this whole series is that Hyrule’s actually a horrible place to live if you squint, and basically all the goddesses are horrible to the poor mortals below. Ghira’s owed a little frustration with his lot.

Related to the above? As delightful as it is to joke about, he’s not a sincerely sexual entity. Any and all weird tongue-waggling is done specifically because he knows it throws people off, and that’s what he wants out of a fight. He’s not socialized enough to know much of the nuance behind similar action, he just knows it gets a large reaction out of people, and typically that makes intimidation or murder even easier.

[thesinglesjukebox]

KATY PERRY - NEVER REALLY OVER

[6.18]

Isabel is damning with faint praise, but this IS the first time a Katy Perry single has broken [6.00]...

Isabel Cole: Easily the best single of Katy Perry's career. [5]

Katie Gill: I hate the fact that I really like this. It's blatantly a Zedd produced song, ticking clock and all, and I spent the whole song thinking 'wait, this reminds me of something, who does this remind me of' (possibly Carly Rae Jepsen? I honestly have no idea, this bugged me for an entire weekend.) The lyrics are a whole lot of nothing and the vocals occasionally jump past singing into screaming. But that post-chorus is just SO MUCH FUN. It saves the song and elevates it from a 4 to a solid 7 in my book. [7]

Joshua Copperman: Katy's best song since her Teenage Dream ended. She's never been that vulnerable in her music, even though her ballads are frequently good, but it works for her here. Then the chorus sucks out all the energy, bringing back the campfire pop that invaded the charts two years ago. Then that post-chorus happens, and suddenly Katy Perry has made the best comeback single of 2019 so far. It's still a late-2010s pop production, meaning it can't have any low-end depth and choruses must sound exactly the same each time, but the breathlessness of the melody and the weirdly poignant lyric overcomes those issues. (Still, the build-up to that post-chorus remains so tedious I rearranged the song to get to the proverbial fireworks factory sooner - it's not perfect, and I'm no Zedd, though Matthew Koma indicates that I may have worked on this more than he did.) If nothing else, "Never Really Over" manages to justify Katy Perry's return, arriving confidently as former peers like Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift are on shaky ground. [7]

Tobi Tella: I might be one of the few people in the world who liked "Chained To The Rhythm", and thought it was a well-written and tasteful intro to an album that was anything but. This is a more conventional slice of pure pop throwing back to what Katy does best, and it works on every level. The sample injects lots of life into the song, and there are no "plastic bag" or "old coupon" level clunkers. Hopefully the next single has nothing to do with eating or basketball... [7]

Julian Axelrod: Katy Perry's best and worst moments come from desperation, when she's so hopelessly despondent with desire you start to see the cracks in her fun-girl facade. So it's no surprise that the only moment she really comes alive here is that breathless barrage of rationalization in the chorus, so thick with hope and dread she's practically banging her head against the walls of the beat. But it is surprising she can conjure up that magic moment at all, especially when the sentiments surrounding it are limp and smeared like a greeting card left in a puddle. If nothing else, it's comforting to know she still cares enough to try to reach those heights. [6]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The best Katy Perry songs (mainly "Waking Up In Vegas" and "Teenage Dream," if I'm going to be honest) were great because of how they straddled the line between artificial and sincere. Of all of the high-concept pop stars of the turn of the decade, she was simultaneously the least confessional and the most honest-- for every wink and invocation of classic pop tropery, there was the feeling that she really meant it, no matter how poorly the songs actually worked out. Even her really dire stuff ("Bon Appetit," "Roar") feels committed. "Never Really Over" succeeds principally on how much you buy Katy Perry as a genuine communicator. That's partially because the rest is just Zedd doing "The Middle" again (which isn't the worst thing in the world.) But it's also about the songwriting itself, which is kind of about Orlando Bloom but really about what it's like to be a pop star a decade and a half into a career that has waxed and waned and waxed again. It's a tricky and artificial conceit-- but that's what she's always done best. [7]

William John: You could easily say that this is a stencil of a Dagny song that's been coloured in well, and many will dismiss it as nothing much more. But there are further collaborators listed in the credits of "Never Really Over" worth mentioning - not only Zedd, whose alarm clock battery refuses to die, but also Hayley Warner (second place in Australian Idol, 2009), and Leah Haywood (contributor to a beloved Australian pop compilation of my youth, So Fresh: The Hits of Summer 2001). The claiming of responsibility for each of this song's moving parts likely won't happen unless we get another "Diary of a Song"-style exposé from somewhere, but it's interesting to note that the neatest trick of the unlikely pop groupthink behind "Never Really Over" is that they've played to Katy Perry's basic strengths - that is, keeping her away from those ungainly cadences she's previously been so fond of, and allowing her to stretch her mouth around a middle eight built upon dramatic phrasing; "kissed goodbye" and "draw the line" are enunciated definitively, as though a ruler's handstaff is being placed into the ground. Every Katy Perry song is a collection of platitudes sung without vibrato, but this time - and maybe for the first time since "Teenage Dream" - she's made them sound believable. [9]

Scott Mildenhall: It's poetic, if not related, that in a year where one of the biggest new stars is making such play of dynamics, Katy Perry songs still have her so incessantly loud. Even while the choruses of this and "Love You Like That" are similarly flowing and flat, only the former falls foul through that familiar failing. The attempt at double tracking vocals as Dagny did is almost tragic, because between the two takes, the loud one is still loud. And although, at its core, this remains a good song with decent new lyrics, that is the problem: the loud one is still loud. [6]

Alfred Soto: The chorus rush would be sweet and necessary if Zedd didn't encourage Katy Perry to yell so loudly. If Robert Plant sang like a second lead guitar, Perry sings like a third sandblaster. [3]

Katherine St Asaph: Zedd's dismissal of the non-Zedd parts of his songs has been noted lately, but the selling point of "Never Really Over" actually isn't its vocalist. Almost literally any of Katy Perry's peers (her Katy Peerys?) would be better on this, both in vocal quality and emoting: Carly Rae Jepsen, Pink, Demi Lovato, even Sabrina Carpenter or Madison Beer. It kind of feels like Katy is only here to lend name recognition to a midlist pop single at best. [5]

Will Adams: It's really odd to see so many highlight the chorus here as Katy's "catchiest yet," when that chorus comes directly from a song that's not even two years old (contrast with something like "7 Rings"). The whole song, even, is a vocal swap away from being "Love You Like That (Zedd Remix)" (and given that Katy's typical word-mangling voice is in full force here, it'd be a welcome reprieve). It's still catchy, it's still effervescent, and I'll take this over anything from Witness, but it definitely bludgeons this impact of this comeback. [6]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[jojotier]

The Pressure of Koito’s Military Upbringing, from the Perspective of a Military Brat

Hey there- I’ve been seeing a lot of meta for Koito. Not all of it is something I agree with, but I think that @chibivesicle brings up a good point that many people tend to gloss over- the pressure of being in a military family, and the goals that get automatically set for you, sometimes from a very young age.

For reference, this is drawing on my own experience, being from a military family. My father was a sergeant back in 2003 (so you can guess where he was when I was little) and I grew up partially on a military base. All the men on my father’s side have gone to war, while many of the men on my mother’s side, including my grandfather, have also enlisted in the army, despite mostly living in Puerto Rico. 

When relaying this, a few things need to be kept in mind- this is the perspective of a modern army kid from the US, so the cultural context is different from that of Meiji era Japan. It should also be noted that my parents only rallied behind my being in the military simply because my brother is unable to join, and that unlike Koito, I ultimately refused to enlist.

However, this is a great jumping off point for one of the biggest things about being a kid from a really intensive military family: more often than not, you are expected to live your life centered, in some way, around the military.

For myself, the only reason why my parents ultimately agreed to me not enlisting was that I was forced to promise them that I would work with veterans for the rest of my life. This mirrors, in some way, Koito’s own perceived “”flexibility””- sure, he wouldn’t join the navy, but he’d be in the army. He’d still get to see that “glory of battle” and put his skills to use. 

The only other reason why they agreed is because they expect my younger sisters to be more involved. Koito, unlike myself, doesn’t seem to have any older or younger brothers that can be in the army (or at least, he’s never mentioned this), so it’s very likely that he has more intense pressure on himself. He’ll be the one who carries on the great family legacy- so he absolutely must be enlisted somewhere. It should also be noted that during this time period, Imperial Japan placed high importance on militarism and serving one’s nation for the glory of all. Koito has additional, societal pressures to join that I’m personally not all that qualified to get into.

Admiral Koito’s speech about his son learning how to lead men also eerily reminds me of things my own father tries to tell me to convince me to enlist, even still- “It’ll teach you real discipline. You value life differently. You become a better person.” Worthy of being a “hero”. The last bit is implied, but it echoes a sentiment seemingly shared by military families- that being in the army is not only a rite of passage into real adulthood, but the way to become a better human.

Because when you grow up on a military base, surrounded by soldiers going to and from war, talking big about how they’ll defend everyone at home- your view of heroism begins to become warped. You start to only be able to see the “big picture”- to think about how the “honor” of a nation must be defended from evil, corrupting forces. And everyone around you pushes that view- pushes you to idolize and discuss and view being a soldier as the Ultimate Good you can do.

The only real choice. 

This is likely the pressure that Koito grew up in. It didn’t matter what he may have said he wanted to do as a kid- the expectation is that he “grows up”. That he wises up. That he go into the army, and bring honor to the family and country, and continue his father’s legacy. This isn’t even to say about the overemphasis of carrying on family legacies, or the sheer ignoring of possible mental health after the fighting is over- the expectation is always to be willing to lay down your life.

This is where things diverge a bit.  At least for me, we stopped living on a military base. We stopped living around a lot of family, and around a lot of soldiers. The people really pushing me to go into the military dwindled down to only two. I began to want to look at other alternatives- and I forced my parents into letting me do so.

Koito lived with even more intense pressure for a little over 20 years. 

It cannot be overstated, how much that background would have impacted Koito’s personality. His views of heroism only include the great and powerful men- those who have the ability to make countries, or those like Tsurumi, who promises to give “heroes” like the 7th Division their due, which has been so cruelly taken from them by the government. His desire to have been part of the fighting sooner. His yearning for war. It all makes sense in the context of these pressures

The thing is, there isn’t any telling how much of this internalized militarism is because of his upbringing, and how much is because of his own tendencies. His drive to be the best could be applied to any number of pursuits, and his athleticism in the circus arc can be contributed to either an aristocratic upbringing or a desire to train his body for combat. 

This isn’t to say that Koito didn’t want this pressure, either- we don’t know enough about Koito’s childhood, enough about his dreams and aspirations as a child, to make a definitive statement on whether or not the army has been his dream from day 1.

However, it does factor into his insecurities- because now, it’s not just a matter of being a good soldier. He has to be a worthy soldier. A soldier who can lead men victoriously; one who can carry on the family legacy; one who can be good enough to earn the title of a “hero”. 

Anyone can be a good soldier. Someone from a military family must be the best- the shining beacon to lead all others by example. 

If Koito can’t even lead the expedition of Karafuto, then what else is he? A failure? Inexperienced? 

Who’s to say?

tl;dr: When you’re from a military family, you’re expected to build your entire life around the military. Koito’s insecurities come from a fear of failure.