#if youre one of them or worse you actually interpreted the original conversation in that bad faith

[ming-sik]

honestly it's just frustrating. you have people finding misogynistic cishet dudes and defending their emotional neglect of their sexual partners because it superficially resembles aromanticism even when the men themselves do not identify as aromantic and are often neglecting their sexual partners specifically because they view a girlfriend as the only type of woman who deserves any type of effort and so if the chick they're fucking isn't their girlfriend they can treat her like dirt. and then when people are rightly like "hey fuck you for defending a misogynist" the same people who claimed the cishet guy who never at any point claimed to be aromantic was aromantic and therefore criticizing his misogyny is arophobia go into the aro tags to despair at how many people HATE aromantics so they can whip a bunch of bystanders into a frenzy because they've heard that people are discrediting aromanticism, and therefore are encouraged to read the original unrelated posts or people getting pissed at someone defending emotional abuse by calling it aromanticism in bad faith or not at all, and so you get a mountain of people theorizing that the attack on cishet aro men was manufactured by TERFs instead of people who think that girls who date guys deserve dudes who don't see them as a freelance contractor they can expect sex from without having to treat them with the bare minimum respect they feel a girlfriend is owed.

[thunderandsage]

hannibal fic recs

(in honor of my first ever fandom… yea i get the implications of how that makes me look 😂 anyways, i tend to like the hannibal fics that are closer to the tone and content of the series vs some of the more popular ones jsyk, and i’m putting the more “same characters, different vibes ” fics in the bottom section. my absolute favorites recs are the ones with red titles)

SEASON 1 ERA/VIBES

Pièce Montée, 3k words, episode-style case fic with well-written original characters and plot, sympathetic killers, would kill (ha) for this to be an actual episode on the show

where there is smoke, there is fire, 3k, georgia madchen character study, reading experience comparable to the joy and dread of watching sparks catch on kindling

Foreplay, 1.5k, despite the title not a smut fic but is actually a hannibal character study which takes the premise “seeing people as meat” and seeing how he does/doesn’t view people’s humanity

SEASON 2 ERA/VIBES

Salome, 6k words, tension, delves into the dark obsessive side of oscar wilde’s work, excellent hannibal pov

As Smoke to Flame, 3k, wherein the seduction does include fucking and predictably doesn’t make anything better, focuses on the inherent angst and betrayal of will’s ploy

Trotline, 7k, takes the fluffy-sounding premise of “will takes hannibal fishing” and makes it uh hannibal, an incredible take on hannibal’s sadism/cruelty, gorgeous looming sense of dread

each according to its own kind, 192k, after getting released will ditches the fbi and leaves for the other side of the continent, a love letter to the pacific northwest, the best will graham interpretation i have ever seen, slowburn character study, bonus points bc hannibal gets decked not once but twice in glorious detail, john steinbeck vibes, one of my favorite pieces of writing ever

pitiful things sometimes born in hospitals, 8k, daemon au where will has yet another difference, not a hannigram fic, beverly/will vibes, bittersweet and tragic

your heart is a vast stone desert, 10k, a conversation goes left field and enters the thorny splendor of psychedelic imagery and the most sinuous dialogue you’ve ever read, takes inspiration from ives’s play venus in fur

SEASON 3 ERA/VIBES

Silver Springs, 2k, a Dolce “let’s make this worse,” non-linear writing, heavy angst but god it hurts so good, gorgeous feels from the eponymous song

Tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks, 6k, a short scene in the BSHCI, what it means to be loved gently by a monster, grotesque and tender at the same time

highway 190, 10k, will graham growing up as a queer man in the deep south and beyond, religious trauma, prose as vivid and striking as a poisonous snake

Churrasco, 2k, leans into the avant-garde vibes of the show, all characters start out using false identities and you get to see them revealed slowly

Au Natur, 9k, a bleak but beautiful imagining of post-fall hannigram, fully embraces will graham’s manipulative tendencies

forgiveness, 1k, a poem-with-footnotes format as Will attempts to explain what his life has become to his father

Sins of Omission, 15k, Jack Crawford’s perspective on the development of hannigram, regret, very good outsider pov

VIBES-ADJACENT (aka fics that don’t “feel hannibal” or are vy AU, but are vy good nonetheless)

Adrasteia, 96k words, Kitchen Nightmares AU, nsfc (not safe for chilton), a hilariously sarcastic and done(tm) will graham, the first long hannibal fic that i read

Black Swan, 10k, as per the tags “all serial killers are birds, some birds are serial killers,” a cracky Swan Lake AU

Separately to a Wood, 13k, a “love at first sight” leads to “proposal during the breakfast scene,” soft

They Came to Florence or: Plagiarize This Fic, 5k, hannibal is a huge fan of will graham’s novels and becomes incensed when someone plagiarizes them, the author was apparently inspired to write this after someone plagiarized one of her fics and i respect that

Poppies, 5k, wherein it is acknowledged that for all the horror she’s been through abigail is just a teenage girl and is allowed some soft moments

their beaks not yet turned red, 134k, magical realism au where the baby does miraculously save the marriage, includes hilarious takes on the inherent absurdities of hannibal’s trial

Be Your Dog, 4k, a rock band au that adapts will graham’s proverbial “descent to the dark side” with an ominous intensity

Sagittarius, 13k, a salem witch trials au where will seeks to avenge abigail’s death by any means necessary, dark but cathartic

a siphon; to pass through, 71k, will has type one diabetes and hannibal is an infuriatingly smug vampire, crack but extremely well-written

[who-is-page]

🌃 ThisIsAPlaceholderSoPeopleDon'tThinkIWroteThisPic Follow

~~~

🌇 OkayNowHere'sMySection Follow

(I spent like ten minutes writing a response to this post + some of the reblogs that it had accumulated and then the OP disabled reblogs JUST as I hit post, but by god I am gonna say my bit. I've removed OP's name from the post and they've deleted the body of the post on their main blog, so don't any of you try looking them up to bother them, either.)

I'd also like to add on to this discussion regarding criticism and the points that have been brought up there-- it's true that no one is free from criticism, as OP points out in the original post. But having that sort of hyper-aggressive attitude towards fiction, especially without taking potential authorship into account (or worse, taking it far too much into account to the point where you harass the person who wrote it), can result in unintended harm towards real people. It's how you end up with situations like Isabel Fall de-transitioning and winding in a psychiatric institute under suicide watch because people mistook a transgender author's exploration of a transphobic stereotype as a topic as a story intended to be a transphobic stereotype itself.

The Vox article about Isabel has the quote, "Sometimes, the path to your personal hell is paved with other people’s best intentions" (Source). I think that's a very poignant and relevant perspective, where sometimes people--like OP--may think that they, as global citizens, have a duty to uphold morality and righteousness in their online spaces for the safety of themselves and their communities... but in actuality, their actions end up having negative effects far, far beyond their intentions, and don't end up protecting or saving anyone much at all. It can be a hard pill to swallow to realize that, but the real actions that people do in retaliation to fiction often create far, far more damage that the fiction ever does existing on its own. For another example, just look at the creator JoCat, who left his YouTube career this year because of the harassment he faced due to his 2020 35-second long video game animation and song, "I Like Girls" (a genderbent parody of Lizzo's Boys that he'd verbally improved on the spot during a Twitch stream). In his goodbye post, he wrote:

"[...] Granted, a lot of this has been primarily on twitter, where I could simply log off and ignore the haters, but no small amount has leaked into other parts of my regular day to day that is harder to ignore - private DMs over discord and twitch, suspicious packages being sent to my family - but I’ve always kept quiet about it because speaking out about it publicly, defending myself, any reaction to it would just encourage more, and be presented as my own fault as well. But if that’s the tradeoff to do something like share the things I make that I’m proud of on the internet, seeing as I’m writing this, it’s probably an indicator that I’m just not cut out for it, and the best thing for everyone would be to stop and pursue something else. Despite being very grateful for what this job has done for me and my family, I’m simply not strong enough to keep doing this if it means having to just accept this kind and amount of distress." (Source)

I think there's worthwhile conversations to be had about the necessity of criticism as a tool to critique common issues with genre, tropes, and popular media in fiction. But I feel like what is being spoken about here, in this post and in these examples-- criticism not as a tool of critique, but as a personal and direct attack, an unveiling of what the criticizer interprets to be the secret and impure Self of the artist or author--is another beast entirely, and one that typically shouldn't be brought to the forefront. It's turning real, thinking individuals into monsters in the eyes of audiences ready to devour them for the slightest transgression, and does that actually help anyone? Rarely do artists and authors deserve to be publicly ridiculed en-masse for their work to the point where they walk away from it, and doing so doesn't actually help make positive changes in any way... because the people who you could have those important discussions with, about the things that both you are critical of in certain genres, writings communities, stories, tropes, etc have now packed up their bags and left.

Everyone is familiar with the "You are not immune to propaganda" Garfield meme. And while it may be funny, it's also true. People make mistakes and create things which are unintentionally insulting, either because the author is leaning on offensive stereotypes or tropes without realizing it, or because the author isn't worldly to the baggage that certain subjects carry within them (such as people who reference Lovecraft's work without having the background information that he was a horrible racist, sexist, and xenophobe). But heckling them and telling them that they're secretly terrible people and should never create anything ever again isn't going to inform them about these subjects. It's going to result in them getting defensive, prickly, and running off. There is no net gain to this scenario. The amount of Good in the world has not increased from this interaction.

This all isn't touching on people who intentionally play with stereotypes or tropes in their writing, nor is it touching on the inherent religious bigotry and Christiancentrism wrapped up in the idea of someone's fictional stories or writings being reflective of their innermost desires and morality, because this is getting pretty long. But I wanted to put out my own thoughts on this in addition to what's already been said.

[thatseventiesbitch]

That is such a good post about the fandom. Honestly, I think a lot of fandoms have the problem we do, which is a few people deciding that their personal head canons are fact and reality. Like 'my verse is canon' is usually meant as a joke, but a small yet very loud minority constantly proclaim that their own interpretations (some of which are...out there lol), their non-canon ships, their personal wishlist etc are reality because he or she SAID so, and it's hard for the rest of us not to be like "i mean, imagine and daydream whatever you want, but that's actually NOT what happened on the actual show." I'm not sure I'm explaining this well, but basically a few fans insist that 2+2 is five and then freak out when people politely point out otherwise. Maybe it's because I'm Tumblr Old like you are lol and fandom in our day was more analyzing character' personalitiess, trading ideas about favorite and least favorite storylines etc rather than fixating on stuff like "CHARACTER A IS GENDERFLUID AND IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH TEN OTHER PEOPLE AND IS A DEMIROMANTIC PANSEXUAL BECAUSE I SAID SO" when it's like but, no, they're not, so maybe just create an original character if that's what you want to write about lol.

Thanks! I guess a lot of us are feeling similar things right now.

Yep, I (think!) I understand what you're saying. We're on the same page. Folks can do whatever they want on this silly little site, of course - imagining different sexualities for the characters or pairing them with characters they were not romantically linked to in canon, inventing their own 'universes' that are based on the source material - these things don't hurt anybody. Let them be.

I think the rub comes in when the rest of us do not take their ideas seriously or do not agree with them - which of course, we're under no obligation to do. Sorry, but I don't think every interpretation is equally valid. I don't want to read about your OC/self-insert characters when I peruse the T70S and T90S tag, I want to read about the characters from the show I like. I do think everyone should be able to express their own thoughts and ideas on their own blog, but when one makes public posts on a public blog using fandom tags, others are going to respond. Those are literally the kinds of interactions this site was designed to foster.

The good news for me continues to be that the vast majority of folks I've interacted with in this fandom are good, creative people and even when we see things differently we can often have great conversations anyway. I hope newer fans aren't driven away by a couple of bad apples. I've only encountered a few blogs who are aggressive towards those with dissenting opinions or who are openly hostile to any good-faith discussion, and frankly, I've blocked them and I wish I had done it sooner. We do have the ability to curate our own fandom experience. I think folks hesitate to block because they don't want to be impolite, but I think it's far worse to continue seeing that person's content, become angered by it, and send nasty anons (I've seen a little bit of this happening and it makes me upset). If it's not for you, unfollow! If you keep seeing content you don't want to see, block! Now all that stuff is gone from my dash/tags and I only see the things I want to see - fan fiction, (canon) character analysis, excitement for the new season of That '90s Show. 🥰

[doevademe]

What are some criticisms against Percabeth? I'm curious because I never had an issue with them during the original pjo series. Its Hero's of Olympus where is get kinda weird for me

I'll start with PJO and then move on to HoO, because while I have my criticisms of PJO Percabeth, HoO Percabeth is... uff.

Also under a read more because this gets long, and to minimize upsetting people.

Okay, so my main issue in PJO is how boring they are as a couple. This is a me problem, of course, but Percabeth is just the smart girl teasing/softly bullying the protagonist boy. They are as scheduled as a train stop. You know form the first moment where it's going to go, how it will get there, what the interactions will be like, and if you think this is a writer thing, I started reading these books when I was 13, and even then I considered the pairing most cliché thing ever.

I have two actual criticisms for PJO Percabeth, though. The first is how their romance is centered around Annabeth insulting Percy. I mean, her main nickname for Percy is a constant reminder that he's seen as stupid, which Percy is not, despite common fandom interpretation. She's also constantly punching him and belittling him, and yeah, she's a teenager and they are just friends being a little rough on each other, but if Percy was the one doing it, that wouldn't fly with the fandom at large, and it doesn't fly with me when Annabeth does it, either.

The second criticism is that they have nothing in common aside from shared experiences as demigods. If Percy had quested with Clarisse or Drew, he'd have the same things in common with them as he has with Annabeth in canon. In all of PJO they never have a conversation that's not centered around being a demigod. They don't share hobbies, interests or even talents. Percy is shown to like stuff like skating, swimming and other physical activities, Annabeth is a bookworm who loves architecture and puzzles. There's no intersection there. Once they are in college in New Rome, safe from monsters, what do they even talk about? Their only scene not demigod related is having plans to see a movie in BotL, something they don't have to talk to do (and that they never end up doing). EDIT: Oh, also, Annabeth infodumping on architecture, but Percy considers this white noise and he constantly ignores her talking about her passion, so... yeah, I don't count it as an actual conversation since he never engages back.

HoO Percabeth has these problems too, but it's much worse because they are actually together now. Annabeth is shown in her very first POV to be very manipulative (reminding Percy he almost dated Rachel to make him uncomfortable and "keep him in line"), violent (the Judo flip), and needy to an almost codependent degree (she makes Percy disappearing all about her, how it made her feel, how much it hurt for her), and Percy just goes along with it.

Their conversations are also repetitive and boring, because discussing the demigod quest is now a group thing with the rest of the Seven, their one-on-one conversations are all about how in love they are, how they want to spend their lives together, how they can't live without each other. It feels more like what keeps them together is their shared experiences and traumas, rather than any sort of chemistry or shared goal aside from a generic "staying together forever".

I'm okay with it as a friendship, because sometimes you can call your friend a jerkwad and just laugh it off, because you both now you don't mean it. People also have tons of school or job friends they have nothing in common with except for spending nearly 8 hours together daily in the same building, but as a romance? I was never convinced, more resigned to the fact that it would happen.

[clockworksteel]

Since Hades II seems to be centered around a Titan, I thought I'd search the first game's lua scripts for the word "Titan" to see what we know about them. I didn’t find anything super interesting and I imagine most of this has already come up in groups speculating about Hades II, but it was a nice review of the lore for me.

These are from NPCData.lua

AchillesMiscMeeting04 Achilles: "The sealed weapons by your chambers; your father won't observe their absence, I don't think. They remind him of a time he stood together with his brothers and sisters. He wants nothing more to do with any of that.  I think it's fitting you've inherited their power." Zagreus: "A power that once sealed away the Titans... maybe it's a power that can break me out of here. Thank you for helping me, Achilles."

The Titans here are referred to as "sealed away". Some other conversations act like they're actually dead.

AchillesAboutSuperLockKeys01 Zagreus: "Achilles, sir? I got a relic of some sort out there... a globule of ancient blood, which formed after I fought with Megaera. Is this really the Titans' blood I found?" Achilles: "As far as I know, yes, lad. That it is. Though whose, exactly, I'm not so sure. You'd best hang onto it, and keep it safe. Your weapons... they shall thirst for it and drink it up. Not yet, perhaps, but soon."

About Titan Blood and the Infernal Arms.

DusaWithMegaera04 Meg: "...We got off on the wrong foot from the start. Just what happens when you're born of Titan blood, I guess. It's for the best we haven't crossed paths much since."

I'm not sure when she says "born of Titan blood" if she means the furies literally just crawled out of a pool of blood or if she's referring metaphorically to lineage. Looking over Wikipedia, though, it seems one possible origin myth (of course there are multiple) is the literal interpretation of that statement, though.

From EnemyData.lua

LordHadesMiscEncounter04 Hades: "My brothers and my sisters and myself. We, too, wanted to slay our parents. The Titans. Bastards. And worse." Zagreus: "And you succeeded. Chopped up some of them into many tiny bits, and sprinkled them throughout the pits of Tartarus so that they can't regenerate! Or so I hear. Inspiring, really!" Hades: "We had no recourse at the time, save to collaborate. Developed a specific plan, and saw it through. And, the Titans...? You think me cruel, yet know nothing of cruelty. But, here, you want something to hate, then have it!"

The current location and state of the Titans as of the first game. I imagine if the pieces were brought together they could regenerate.

From LootData.lua

DemeterAboutFather01 Demeter: "We all are willful children, are we not? I'm daughter to Hyperion, you know; a Titan so obscure and hated that Lord Zeus, he started calling me his birth-sister, so much did he dislike this bit of truth! And to get a rise out of me, too."

Since Demeter was one of the six that stood against the Titans I can't imagine she was interested in helping them, but this was still interesting.

From the Codex

I didn't search it in its entirety because I didn't find a convenient text file for that, but I checked all the infernal arms to verify who used which against the Titans. I mostly wasn’t sure if Eris or Hestia used the gun.

Stygius the Blade of the Underworld: "Back when the six elder gods sealed the Titans in the deepest recesses of Tartarus, that blade evidently played no small role in their success. It must have been Lord Poseidon who brandished that blade before he opted for that trident he so likes."

Varatha the Eternal Spear: "It must have been a sight when Lord Hades wielded Varatha the Eternal Spear versus the Titans, driving back those fiends into the depths, together with the help of his Olympian brothers and sisters."

Coronacht the Heart-Seeking Bow: "...the finest bow ever conceived, and wielded once by none other than Mistress Hera, who stood side by side with Zeus, on better terms back then, as they drove back the Titans under a storm of arrows and thunder."

Aegis the Shield of Chaos: "...the Lord of Thunder defended his brothers and sisters using that very shield when, together, they conspired to drive the Titans back into the lowest reaches of the Underworld. The shield was shattered, yet a burning effigy remains, its power still intact. A power sealed within the visage of a monstrous entity even the titans feared."

Twin Fists of Malphon: "It is said even the Olympians hesitated to embrace the Twin Fists, until Lady Demeter, her hands accustomed to tilling the land, stepped forward and accepted the gift. The Titans recoiled from Malphon's relentless attacks, overwhelmed by its fury, unable to defend against it as one might a spear or blade. The Titan Hyperion suffered the worst of it, his undying body pulverized to such an extent that even his legacy was destroyed."

Adamant Rail: "Least known among the gods who stood together to depose the Titans is the Lady Hestia, reclusive goddess of the hearth, and one-time wielder of Exagryph, the Rail of Adamant" and also "For now, its secrets remain trapped within the darkest regions of the Underworld, along with the remains of the Titans defeated by it. Someday, however, I imagine it shall break free from this place; for any weapon once possessed by Eris, Lady Strife herself, becomes possessed of an eternal hunger to destroy."

Other mentions I skipped over earlier

For completeness, the word "Titan" also came up in these conversations but there was little to learn about them that wasn't elsewhere: NPCData.lua

HadesShrineProgress02 (Zagreus says he used "your discarded Titan-slaying weapons", among other things, to overcome the Pact of Punishment.)

AchillesAboutLuciferAspect01 (Achilles speculates that maybe Lucifer's rebellion was before the Olympains rose up against the Titans, but he doesn't know.)

MegaeraAboutSisters01 (Another confirmation that the Titans were cut up and scattered in Tartarus)

OrpheusTallTale04 (Zagreus is outright lying about stuff.)

PersephoneMeeting06 (She compares a possible war with the Olympians to the war against the Titans. We already knew the Gods slew the Titans.)

PersephoneAboutHades01 (In a conversation about whether he hates Hades, Zagreus mentions hearing about the Olympians "rending their immortal Titan parents to bits" and that he doesn't feel that way. We already knew the Titans were in pieces.)

EnemyData.lua

SkellyAboutSuperLockKeys01 (Just about earning Titan Blood. No new lore.)

SkellyAboutSuperLockKeys02 (Just a hint about how Titan Blood is used. No new lore.)

SkellyAboutWeaponEnchantments01 (Skelly acknowledges Aspects have unlocked. No new lore. Although Zagreus saying "Calm down, Skelly. I'm sure whatever it is is perfectly normal for a legendary semi-sentient Titan-slaying weapon from the dawn of time." is kinda funny.)

LordHadesHasGuanYuAspect01 (Hades comments on Varatha having changed form, which Zagreus says is from Titan Blood. Also Hades' current spear is called Gigaros, which he says is "the mightier weapon, with none of the treacherous past".)

LordHadesExtremeMeasures02 "You wish to test yourself against the full extent of my wrath, then very well. You have earned that right. Besides yourself, only the Titans have."

LordHadesExtremeMeasures03  "You vanquished me... even when I threw everything I had at you, and more. I fought you as I fought the Titans themselves, and still I failed."

LordHadesHasWeaponUpgrade01 (Another mention of the Titans being chopped up with the Infernal Arms. Hades muses "Perhaps the Fates decided that its wielders ought to all eventually wind up on its receiving end. Come, then! Let us see what the great Achilles has taught you.")

LootData.lua

ZeusBackstory03 "My brothers Hades and Poseidon once fought bravely by my side, you know that, don't you, Nephew? We prevailed against the Titans and established law upon the earth. Your father then descended to the land of death, and we've not seen much of each other since."

ZeusHasWeapon01 "You fight your father's legions with Varatha, the Eternal Spear? The irony must not escape him, for he long ago stood by my side against the Titans, with that thing in hand!"

AresAboutWar03 "Do you ever think to yourself that you were born a bit too late, my kin? For my part, I wish that I could have been there myself when my father and the others waged ferocious war against the Titans. Ah, it must have been a sight!"

AresHasWeapon02 "Ah, you wield Coronacht, the Heart-Seeker. It pierced three Titans in one shot back in the war amongst our kind. Please do take care of it!"

DemeterPostGiftPickup02 "My, but you're as determined as my foster-brothers were, when my sisters and I stood with them 'gainst the Titans way back when."

DemeterAboutFather02 "As seasons give to one another, so do generations, I suppose. Hyperion, my father? He'd not a one redeeming quality. My sisters and my foster-brothers and myself; this world owes us a debt for ridding it of him and his kind."

ChaosAboutHades01 "Your father and his brothers, when they sealed the Titans in the darkest reaches of this world, that was the last they saw of me, as well. You are dissimilar from them, and I feel safe communicating thus with you."

ZeusWithDemeter01 (Zeus mentions Demeter isn't actually his sister. She's not impressed. Her reaction includes "Almost as though you felt compelled to speak the truth only whilst I'm directly within earshot.")

[electricbluebutterflies]

Jessica/Leto + Wild, breathless kisses brought on by a heartfelt gift.

Early-era, PG-ish, also on ao3.

It doesn’t seem significant at the time.

There are only so many ways to get someone to open up, and Leto is quickly running through them. Attempted conversation on any level, borderline disaster and one-word responses unless she thinks he’s making a terrible mistake and that’s happened maybe twice in the past year. Intimacies, she’s at least figured out he wants her to be comfortable and he’s pretty sure he’d get maimed if he did anything she couldn’t at least tolerate, but their communication isn’t any better in bed than it is anywhere else. Tiny presents…

There is something feral about that woman, like a small bird taking whatever shiny things wash up on shore, and if that’s the way into her heart then he is more than willing to try to work with it.

Even this approach offers opportunities for failure. Doing too much too soon, for instance – any of the family heirlooms, most of them too noticeable for her taste, most of them-

It is distinctly challenging to try to figure out a woman who he’s starting to suspect doesn’t understand herself either, and out of that he worries. Is the general goal of romancing her wrong? Would it be easier to live in peaceful separation and just let her… oh, he hasn’t the slightest idea what she’s supposed to be doing beyond intimacies, and even that’s questionable, and-

They are in each other’s lives, for better or worse. Damn him for wanting to turn that into something.

He watches her as months pass, watches her… not quite bloom, that would be too kind a word, but at least acclimate. Tries to keep the pressure low and justifiable – there are only a few formal events in the year that are truly unbearable without some kind of companion, and his vulnerability is enough to get her into a dress that can only fit one of her in an actual color, and-

It is an hour before such an evening when he slips into her spaces, a routine he’d like to think they’re developing. Easier to directly give fair warning – who he’d rather not speak with and why, any other petty drama he suspects might go over her head – and lately the only time he goes looking for her. Otherwise she just appears, as if aware that her presence is wanted, as if-

“May I add to that?”

She looks breathtaking as-is, unusually light-green silk, enough attention to detail that a casual observer might have no idea of her origins and oh what if that’s what she’s trying for and-

“That depends on the details,” she replies, and this too is progress. The less compliant she gets, the more like an actual normal human being…

“It’s just a small necklace. And you can take it off if you don’t like it.”

That’s apparently tempting enough to make her pull her hair out of the way and offer her neck. So still as he puts the piece on her, and it really is delicate, only visually interesting up close and-

“Comfortable?”

She moves away, towards a mirror that must’ve been acquired at some point since the last time he had reason to be in her spaces, and her expression is… not actively unhappy, he can’t pin any closer than that but at least-

“You’re learning.”

Something in her visibly breaks, and next thing he processes she’s cleared the distance again and tilted her head up for what feels like the most genuine kiss she’s ever attempted, something raw and real and beautiful in it and-

“You don’t owe me-“

“Does this really look like…” Something sparkly in her eyes, adoration and frustration, maybe she’s going through the same confusion he is at all times and-

“You should have pretty things,” he murmurs, taking a step back before things escalate further than they should right now. “I want you to have pretty things.”

“I’m not… used to that. But I could learn.”

“If it’s against your codes-“

“I was taught to be adaptable,” she says, glancing away for a moment. “I was never told that anyone might find me beautiful, but…”

“You run delicate,” he interprets. “Understood.”

“Perhaps. I don’t know yet.”

He knows what vulnerability this is for her, how challenging to admit her uncertainty, and… there’s something brave and defiant about her, something he may be falling in love with, something-

“Do let me know when you figure it out.”

She takes another kiss, deep enough to decide how the evening will end before it begins. “You do something to me,” she breathes against his skin. “I’m not sure what it is, but I like it.”

He slips away again, before he can say things he’s not sure of either, before this can actually get weird. “See you in-“

“You do want me close, yes?”

“Always.”

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Ask on Army-Multi Behaviours and K-pop Fan Archetypes Related to ARMYs and BTS (Repost)

Anonymous: Bpp, I don't understand people who call themselves fans but instinctively reach for the least charitable interpretation when something comes up about their supposed faves. They remind me of one American friend who thinks it's a personality trait to complain all the time. Even about the most harmless things. And my Republican step-grandma who only comments on anything to criticize it. I wonder what their state of mind is like on a normal day, because their first reaction every single time is negative. And it's not just 'unpopular opinions' but just weirdly glossing over easy, accessible, and plausible realities that would explain something before coming here to complain, again. Does it strike you as weird when you see things like this?

It's weird to choose to remain in a space you cannot stop criticizing, a space you refuse to see anything good about, and a space you make no effort to partake in positively. It's not even critical inquiry because half their takes are uninformed. Their 'hot takes' are entertaining to read but at the same time they seem so sad. I mean who does that? The person I saw doing that this afternoon stans another kpop group and doesn't put nearly the same scrutiny as she puts on BTS and armys on her real favorite group that she comments on only to talk about shipping and it's like, don't they see it's obvious what they are?

**

Hi Anon,

You’re going to have to give me more to work with because I don’t traffic in indirects. But in any case, I guess welcome to the world and seeing how some people do things. As I’ve said in another post, if you’re a critical person, k-pop is the perfect genre for you cause you’ll never run out of things to be critical about, and you’ll always have a willing audience to affirm your gripes. No other genre elevates the opinions of random fans like k-pop lmao. I’m not American but even where I live I know people who like being contrarian. I don’t mind it because multiple perspectives are usually a good thing, so long as everyone gets their say and all aspects are considered fairly. This doesn’t happen often on the internet because nobody changes their minds here, but it’s typically a good sign to see people civilly conveying they think.

For example, I like that people are able to point out they find it excessive when fans freak out about COVID announcements because it’s true some behaviors border on irrational (even if you’re upset about it what good does crying all day do?), and I like it when other people can explain why they’re legitimately as worried as they feel. It’s called conversation. Or as close as one can get to that on Tumblr.

The rest of what you described just sounds like a regular k-poppie or multi as relates to BTS. It’s not about whether they listen to more than one artist. In fact, usually these sorts of people don’t really listen to music that much at all. It’s that they have a group they actually stan that’s not BTS, and usually use BTS and/or ARMYs as the crutch to comment on all they find wrong with k-pop, of which the group they actually stan of course has it’s own examples of. In my experience, those other groups/fandoms even have it worse than BTS or ARMYs, but again, in k-pop, nobody is actually concerned about the underlying issues. It’s about the subject. Normally I’d say BTS is the most prominent social phenomenon right now so of course everyone and their momma will be talking about them in every context, but this is a pattern I’ve observed with k-pop stans even before BTS became really famous. Like being hypercritical of BTS / ARMYs is the most consistent feature of a k-pop stan and it’s been like this for as long as I can remember loool.

It’s just what it is and I’m so used to it I hardly even notice it these days. I suggest you get used to it too because this is one thing that will definitely not change.

Originally posted: March 29th, 2022 9:32am

[chocosvt]

love café

⚬ pairing: jeonghan x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 17.6K ⚬ warnings: some vulgar language, i guess! ⚬ genres: big time nsfw, dirty talk, lap dances, quickies, bath shenanigans, exhibitionism, overstim - you get what i mean. big ole romance, angst, fluff, jeonghan is very rich and very hot, joshua has a not so subtle crush on you. 

✧✎ synopsis: while you’ve spent the last few months pretending the love café doesn’t exist, you realize you need its services now more than ever. this brings you face to face with jeonghan, the son of a luxury fashion designer who’s got money to burn. your exchanges are strictly business. until they’re not. 

✧✎ a/n: YES, ANOTHER REWRITE. the original love café was just so unsalvageable that i almost fully wiped its plot, minus the actual concept of the café. so, this should read as fairly new! I HOPE U ENJOY IT !!

It’s not that you were desperate. Because you weren’t.

You were actually more than desperate at this point, and no longer could you sit on that uneven couch with the broken leg, staring at the chipped paint, listening to your neighbours’ screams, believing you should continue like this. More than anything, you were shortchanging yourself. There was no point in holding onto that little string of hope in which those employers might phone you back. It would be impossible to contact your family when you had affirmatively cut ties with them ages ago. And, it was becoming increasingly foolish to ignore your one saving grace, just a street over from your rundown complex.

But, could you really commit to it? Would anyone even be able to look at you and think you were someone desirable enough to reward?

Those thoughts often hung over you like a dark cloud, and poured down so heavily that you were metaphorically drenched, in your own pessimism. However, on that day, you were beyond patience with the cards you’d been dealt. Such a despairing apartment, with all its bugs and drafts and horrible neighbours, could not be your brightest and most fortunate future. There had to be something you could do.

Even if it meant going to the Love Café.

In other words, an easy gig to financial heaven, in exchange for sexual pleasures of course. You walked into your bedroom and sat down in front of the wooden vanity, clicking on a dim, flickering bulb to help illuminate your face as well as its lifeless expression which stared back at you. It didn’t take more than ten minutes to pat your skin with some emptying makeup and thinning pans of eyeshadow. Then, you fixed up your hair and chose a simple, mute-coloured dress from your closet, immediately swallowed by the large winter coat you cozied into.

You hurried quickly down the corridor, ignoring the muffled shouts from your argumentative neighbours bleeding through the nickel-thin walls, past the barking dog which jumped against the door, scratching its nails whenever you waited for the elevator, and you didn’t even spare one glance at the very strange man who always hovered in the central lobby and watched you ignore his coos every single day. By the time you arrived outside the Love Café, you were breathing like a marathon runner. Despite the cold weather, you felt a sweat run like a breeze down your temple as you wiped your face before heading inside.

The space felt warm. Everything was red, pink, or white. And when you inhaled, the air smelled like a note of rose petals and candy. It was surprisingly easy to sign up for a ‘Love Card’ at the front desk.

“This card has twelve punches per service with your partner. If, by the end of the twelfth punch, you’re not looking to pursue something serious with this individual, you can pay for another Love Card. If you do manage to find, ‘the one’, then congratulations, and well wishes. Since you’re a first-time client, you get twenty-five percent off your first card.”

Whoever the lady was, she seemed less than enthusiastic as she pushed a cherry-red paper across the counter with a finely manicured nail. You thought she must have given this spiel so many times, the script probably haunted her in her sleep. Nonetheless, you thanked her, and heeded her direction when she advised you to choose any of the free tables, marked with a pale rose. For some reason, you picked the very last table amongst the row and slid yourself onto the uncomfortable, white chair, the metal back moulded into the shape of a heart.

Whoever reserved the table wasn’t exactly punctual. About half an hour after being seated, ordering yourself a tea, and examining the different clients who filtered in and out the café, you were beginning to assume the worst. That they cancelled. Flaked. Decided to pull from the service and direct their affluence elsewhere. As you titled the last few droplets of tea around the base of the cup, feeling utterly depressed and bored, you heard the little bells clink above the door, followed by a gasp from the employee at the front desk. Considering her microscopic range of emotion, you figured whoever entered must be some flawless rarity.

“Jeonghan!” She fixed her slouched position. “I wasn’t aware you made a reservation today. I haven’t seen your name in the system.”

“No worries. I set an anonymous appointment the night before. After all the chaos I caused last time, I figured it’s best to stay under the radar. I know I’m late. I was finishing up a term paper.”

“That’s quite all right. Here, I’ll just quickly renew your information. One moment… Okay, Yoon Jeonghan, you’re all set.”

At that, your eyes practically bulged right into the teacup. You’d heard his name in some conversations with a few university friends, before you had dropped your program. His father was an inventive in the fashion industry for nearly a decade, and his brand was considered high-end luxury, with people forking up the big bucks just to wear a piece from the collection. His mother recently begun a perfume company. In fact, you had a bottle from her Sunrise series sitting on your vanity, though you used each spritz very sparingly considering its outrageous price point. According to the most recent gossip, Jeonghan had ended his relationship with a model who’d been strutting his father’s cloths.

You couldn’t believe he was here.

No – even worse, you couldn’t believe he was making his way toward your table. It had to be some sort of mistake. How could it be that you chose to sit here? Was the universe attempting another cruel joke?

His visual seemed even more daunting outside his photographs in the magazines. Beyond a glossy page, he was softer. Thick hair, shiny and dark brown, which swooped beneath his ears and parted smoothly at the forehead. His lips were the same shade as the windowsill roses, as well as the high arches in his cheeks. But then, he was sharper too, with a trim, angular jaw and such a defined yet judgemental brow. You had expected anyone else but him. And now, this esteemed, much too beautiful man had come to the very last table, wearing an expression of waning curiosity. Or, as you interpreted it, clear-glass disappointment.

Before Jeonghan seated himself, he untucked his phone from his coat pocket and clicked a side button to check the time. He then sniffled, looked straight at the wall, and sighed. Despite your now devoted wish to disappear, you attempted to begin a conversation that wouldn’t backfire.

“Yoon Jeonghan. I’ve heard the name. It’s nice to meet you.”

He settled one arm on the table, tapping his fingernails.

“Yeah. I’m guessing you’re not a regular here—” he then peered over at your bright red Love Card placed by the teacup to say your name.

Bouncing your leg underneath the table, you nodded. “No, not really. I’ve been debating for a while if this was a choice I should make, but I can’t seem to have ends meet doing anything else. So, I came here.”

Already, Jeonghan looked painfully bored. He stopped tapping his fingers and leaned his chin against the hand instead. You knew it was the insecurity barking. Unnecessarily, you apologized to him.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m probably not the woman you’re expecting and I get that. I wouldn’t be all that offended if you wanted to save the Love Card for someone else or—”

Out of the blue, Jeonghan laughed, though he attempted to mute the sound by digging the bend of his index finger between his teeth. Your sentence trailed off with an awkward, dying breath. He suddenly leaned back in his metal seat, shaking his head apologetically and pulling back some of the soft hairs from his eyes. You felt utterly confused.

“Sorry, sorry,” he smiled, “didn’t mean to discourage you there, sweetheart. I’ve just never had someone apologize for—well, their looks.”

“I-I don’t know,” you lunged for damage control, “I just thought you seemed disappointed and I… Well, I haven’t done this before, so I don’t really know all that well how it works. I… I should stop talking…”

It felt as though someone had swatted both your cheeks in an iron-slap, because the skin was stinging hot like never before. You knew he was staring at you, probably thinking to himself that you were a train wreck waiting to happen. Afterward, an employee visited the table to collect your emptied teacup, and asked Jeonghan if he’d like anything to drink. Refusing to look elsewhere but the clenched fists in your lap, you waited for the employee to leave once Jeonghan rejected the offer. He’d pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket. Uncapping the pen with his teeth, you watched him sloppily scribble something down.

“My number.” He said, sliding it across the table. “Listen, I’ve gotta go home and proofread that term paper before I submit it. Just send me a text, okay? I won’t be free for a few days, anyways.”

“Oh, okay.” You sniffled.

Quite frankly, you couldn’t comprehend that he was still interested in pursuing something venereal, even when you had embarrassed yourself like a circus act. He rose quickly from the table and wrapped the waistband of his coat tight around his small waist.

Staring down at the paper, you blurted out, “are you sure?”

Jeonghan titled his head. “Am I sure of what?”

“Never mind.” You answered. “I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.” He nodded, on the verge of walking away when he abruptly stopped himself. “Are you always this nervous?”

Caught off guard by his question, your elbow whacked the edge of the table and you meekly stuttered, “I-I don’t know…”

You were more than positive he was going to ghost all your texts.

To a degree, you were correct.

Over the course of the following week, you sent Jeonghan at least three texts, each on separate days, only to be rewarded with a demotivating lack of responses. You knew he was a busy individual who probably didn’t have much time to waste on promiscuous affairs, let alone a committed relationship. So, you tried very earnestly to not feel upset or unimportant at his methods – even despite the series of required payments glaring you down from those white envelopes scattered atop the kitchen table.

And then, during the black, late hours of a snowy Friday, you received a reply. A surprisingly urgent one which detailed that you make it to the downtown Opal Studio before eleven o’clock, as there would be a backdoor entrance left unlocked for your access. He mentioned a storage closet underneath a staircase, worded very sternly as: … Wait inside, and do not make yourself known. I’ll see you there shortly, and ensure you leave without being spotted. Uncertain of what the situation would entail, you phoned a cab and payed the driver using some remaining funds from a paper note purse. The studio’s front was a smooth, velvet black, with a wide window which illuminated several mannequins wearing Mr. Yoon’s newest issue. Each outfit cost a pretty penny.

Like you anticipated, Jeonghan was late to meet you in the storage closet; however, you were at no point going to scold his blatant disregard for scheduling when he’d pressed you tight against the door looking the way he did. Buttons popped down the chest of his unwrinkled dress shirt, sleeves cuffed to his elbows, and his neat, styled hair beginning to dishevel around those intense eyes. He braced his hand beside your head, studying your lips as though they were glittering.

“Can I kiss you?” Jeonghan asked. The question seemed to rumble from deep in his throat and you felt your knees weaken.

You nodded immediately, allowing his hand to frame the side of your cheek as his warm, soft mouth nudged against yours. It was gentle for a fleeting touch, and then there was pressure, teeth, a slick tongue running across your bottom lip and leaving you in such a sensual daze that you just stood there with a parted mouth. Jeonghan definitely knew what he wanted from you in that moment. And he wanted it quick. You were flipped around, chest pushed against the door, skirt hiked up impatiently as the fabric ruffled around your hips. His hand slid between your thighs to rub you through the thin pair of underwear, pressing firmly enough that you could feel the cold, thick rings on his fingers.

Eagerly, you began a slow gyration of grinding against Jeonghan’s touch while simultaneously biting down hard on your bottom lip, knowing embarrassingly well that you were already sticky and soaking and ready for him to use you like a designated fucktoy. He was rather flush to your backside as he dug the heel of his palm against your clit, so much yet not enough between the cotton. Something about his scent was beyond arousing, and it gripped to him like a web. An expensive cologne no doubt, mature, raw, and ocean-fresh. You heard the sound of his belt being whipped open, followed by a zipper.

“Alright,” Jeonghan hummed, passing a hand up his length, “let’s make this quick. Gotta be back upstairs in five to finish the measurements and tapering and all that boring shit. Now, just be a good, quiet little girl for me, sweetheart, and this’ll be a cake walk.”

Your mouth stretched into a low, whiny groan as Jeonghan held your underwear aside and began to sink inside of you, his hips stalled against your skin. His light breath then fluttered at your ear, “bet you’d make such a perfect toy to keep my cock nice and warm. Feels so perfect, being this deep inside you, sweetheart.” He shuddered against you, thrusting once, twice, slowly and teasingly dragging himself out before ramming right back in to pinch you against the door.

“Fuck,” he cursed between his teeth, “life would be so much easier if I could just keep you right here on my cock, wouldn’t it, baby?”.

Undoubtedly, that smooth-talking tongue of his was going to be an impending problem. You don’t know where he got off exactly on such scandalous thoughts, but you were too consumed in your own lust to care. The way he fucked you against that door with one hand scraping at your hip and the other wrapped up your throat, fingers pressing hot into your drooling mouth to keep you quiet, it was more bliss than a one-way ticket to Eden. Jeonghan timed his orgasm appropriately, slipping himself from your warmth at the last second and finishing himself off using the hand which had been maintaining your silence. His breaths were slow but husky in the aftermath, his fingers painted in cum.

“You wouldn’t want to use that pretty mouth of yours to clean this, would you?” He laughed.

Before you could respond, Jeonghan had grabbed some paper towels left to sit on a shelf and cleaned the mess himself. Then, as though nothing had happened, he asked if you were carrying that damn Love Card before you could even flatten down the wrinkles in your skirt. You grabbed the small note purse you set down next to the paper towels and revealed the obnoxiously coloured card. Jeonghan smiled.

“That’s the one.” He took a dry erase marker from the shelf and wrote his initials in the first circle.

“Here,” Jeonghan proceeded to offer back the card, “one session down. I need to scram. The hall should be clear at this hour, but have a cab ready just in case you need to bolt fast. Oh—before I go, you got the money to pay the driver? It’s no problem if you’re short. I can cover.”

“N-No, I should have enough.” You answered.

“Cool. I’ll transact you tonight.” Jeonghan nodded, tucking in his shirt rather poorly before slipping past you to exit the storage closet.

One week later, you were at the entrance to the library, pulling open the door with a big, cold huff. It was much warmer inside. You were beginning to feel the tips of your stiff fingers again.

Despite your service at the Love Café, you wanted one last time to test your luck on a receptionist position at the downtown hair salon, simply because you would think better of yourself if you weren’t relying chiefly on Jeonghan to pay your bills. His last transaction had been more than you anticipated. Finally, you were able to erase that huge electricity bill, and you still had enough of the money left over to supply some warm meals for the next few days. If you could just submit your newest resume to the salon, then you might be able to permanently cover the groceries.

Except, you needed access to a computer.

Ever since you tipped over a glass of water onto your old laptop, it had stopped working properly, and the library was the only place close by which let you use the computer room without fees. However, as you peered in through the backroom window to find an open space, you realized just how crammed full it was. Judging by everyone’s intense typing and unblinking eyes, you weren’t going to steal a seat anytime soon, which pulled out a frustrated sigh as you fiddled with the USB in your pocket. You thought about heading home, until you saw Jeonghan.

He was seated at the distant left corner, leaned back comfortably in the chair while he examined something on his laptop. A gym bag was slid underneath the table, and he was dressed as though he had some sort of sports practice; quite the contrary to his usual crisp, ironed shirts and heavy winter coats courtesy of brands you couldn’t pronounce. He seemed concentrated, chewing on his thumb nail while he tapped the touch pad. In fact, he didn’t notice that you had approached him until you said his name quietly from across the table and his eyes flickered.

“Uh, hey.” Jeonghan replied, sounding bothered while he pushed his thumb harshly against his bottom lip. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“And I didn’t expect to see you.”

He shrugged, maintaining his uninterested glance on the laptop screen. “Well, I’m looking over some notes. Last minute stuff.”

You nodded. “What’s with the duffle bag?”

“My friend Joshua – he’s been making me coach this Peewee soccer team with him at the Greenfield Dome.” Jeonghan puffed out his chest, letting an arm fall loosely to his side. “Those kids are insane. They have too much energy. I shouldn’t have let that bastard sweet talk me.”

At that, you giggled, though immediately hushed yourself when the librarian came by with a metal cart, filled with books to shelve. You stepped around the table to move out of her way. Jeonghan pulled out the chair beside him using his foot and nodded that you take a seat.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the USB.

“I need to upload my new resume. I mean, I probably won���t hear anything back from this place, ‘cause that’s how it usually goes. But, whatever. Thing is, I busted my laptop, and now the computer room is filled up. I’ll just come back later and hope it’s cleared out.” Staring down at your shoes, you avoided Jeonghan’s gaze. “I know I’m doing this Love Café stuff, but it would still be nice to have my own income, you know?”

“I get that.” He replied, scratching at his collarbone. “I’ve already got my laptop here and everything. You can use it, if you want.”

“Really?” You smiled wide. “Thanks.”

Jeonghan closed a few tabs that he’d been rotating between before sliding his laptop over to you. Wriggling the memory stick into the small slot at the side, you logged into your email account through the main search engine. As long as you could send your resume to the salon before they closed their application deadline, then you would hope for the absolute best, even if it was an unstimulating, lacklustre gig answering phones and scheduling hair appointments all day. Just as you went to drag the file into your email, Jeonghan’s laptop froze.

“Uh, Jeonghan,” you whispered, “nothing’s moving. Do I just wait? Does this normally happen? Did I screw something up?”

He shook his head and laughed. “Relax, relax. It’s been doing that a lot recently. I figured out if you hold down these keys—” Jeonghan suddenly scooted his chair in very close, his thigh pressing against yours as he reached a hand underneath your arm, the other lightly nudging your fingers off the keyboard, “then it goes back to normal. See?”

“O-Oh, yeah. It’s working.” You stuttered, not all staring at the specific keys he clicked because the side of his face was much too pretty.

Granting you access to the keyboard again, Jeonghan leaned away, though he didn’t move his thigh from yours even an inch. It was almost concerning how flustered you felt. Jeonghan had literally pinned you against a closet door and fucked his own hand right in front of you, and yet, your heart was fluttering tenfold. In a much different way. And it lit this spark of fear and adrenaline at the core of your chest like gasoline hitting a wicked flame. You detached the USB stick, logged yourself out from the email account, and moved quickly off the seat.

In a hurried breath, you said, “thanks so much!” and proceeded to leave the library as though someone were trailing you with a pitchfork.

While it was embarrassing, you knew it was necessary. There was no way you were going to crush on that boy. It was strictly business.

Tired. Aching.

Uncomfortable moisture covering the slopes and divots of your body. You didn’t think there was anything left inside you for him to so commandingly take, like his name were inked to your each and every limb. And yet, Jeonghan wasn’t ready to let you rest. The mattress dipped behind you, the heat of his chest sticking to your back, the weight of his erection pressed right at your tailbone. While his lips kissed softly up your neck, Jeonghan slid his hand in between your thighs to continue pleasuring you, ignoring the responsive whimpers attached to your sensitivity. He’d already brought you to two orgasms, though you were sensing the overbearing rush of a third.

An index and middle finger slid down to your entrance, the contact beyond slippery, a sort of wet velvet, and you hardly recognized the sensation unlike the first time he’d touched you. Jeonghan hooked the digits deep, using the heel of his palm to rub a thorough friction against your clit. Working faster and faster, his laboured breaths fanned hot across your neck while he sharply concentrated on making you starry-eyed. It was pain. It was bliss. It was exactly what you wanted most and everything you couldn’t endure at the same time. You came heavily, screamed as the pulsation at your core felt almost violent.

Unable to fully ride out the pleasure, you attempted to curl away from Jeonghan, hiding your face in the pillows and further tilting your hips. However, the boy followed your movement. He stayed snug to your back, practically leaned over top you with the latter arm braced next to your head while his hand pounded and pounded. The amount of liquid gushing onto his fingers and spilling down his wrist felt almost comical, and you were certain that you had never orgasmed so intensely in your life. To make matters worse, it seemed as though he’d taken that little memory box in your head filled with all your language and tossed it right out the damn window. You couldn’t form one word other than sobs.

Jeonghan breathed a light, shaky chuckle beside your ear. “Trying to run from me, sweetheart? When I can make you feel so good? Look at how much you can take, honey. Such a good girl when you cum so fucking hard ‘round my fingers I can barely move them.”

The sound of his digits sliding out from your entrance was the most impure, salacious noise you didn’t know could exist. Rolling slowly onto your back, you saw the immediate coating on Jeonghan’s hand and the drops beading down his wrist. He caught one with his tongue, licking all the way back up like he was cleaning the juice from a melted popsicle, and you almost couldn’t watch him. In fact, you were exhausted. There wasn’t anything left for you to offer, and the thought of moving from his bed when your core felt this utterly sore and your muscles this tight set a perfectly timed cue for your eyes to fall shut. It was heavenly.

Nonetheless, Jeonghan had a very specific rule. There was no staying past your session, and he was often strikingly clear about it. But  this was the first time you’d been pushed to such a degree. He must be able to recognize that it was only a short nap you needed, and perhaps a quick minute under the shower to rid your skin of the sticky sweat.

Out of the blue, something was tossed onto your face. It was your t-shirt earlier stripped and thrown to the floor by Jeonghan. Cracking an eye open and peeling away the fabric to hang loosely from your grip, you sighed. He had already slipped back into his exercise pants.

“Seriously? I’m exhausted.”

He threw a loose flannel over the long, beaming red scrapes that you had clawed down his back, shaking his head with a huff.

“I’m not saying you need to get out right now. I’ve got a dinner with the parents at eight.” Jeonghan proceeded to drop the rest of your undergarments onto bed. “So, you gotta be gone by a quarter to, alright?”

Swallowing dryly, you nodded.

“Alright.”

The next morning, you were seated on the edge of your bed, staring with bleary eyes at the smooth, red Love Card that was initialed to its fifth circle, leaving only eight more sessions with Jeonghan. Though you approached the café with nothing more than an intention to earn money (even if the sex would be inexplicably dull), you were beginning to presume that there was more to this business than you thought. Because the sex wasn’t dull. It was concerningly amazing. And the very man who you had sworn to maintain a no-strings-attached type relationship with was throwing you for a loop. But he was boundary driven.

Be ready to go by this time. No sparkly clothes. Leave nothing in the washroom. Don’t show up here. Don’t show up there. Don’t text me unless this. Don’t call me unless that. Jeonghan knew very explicitly that you were a simple trick to relieving his stress and fulfilling his sexual desires, yet, anything further than that was laughably impossible. And, besides, it’s not like you needed to be in love or have this dazzling, perfect boyfriend. There was too much on your plate already.

You had gone to bed in a thick wool sweater, layered with the heaviest comforter you had due to the broken heating. Ignoring the cold, your next-door neighbours had found themselves in another drunken argument, forcing you to hear the unnerving crack of beer bottles and an outrageous number of insults, ranging from the very straightforward, ‘ridiculous bitch” to the audacious, “go fuck yourself, narcissistic prick.”

Thankfully, the dramatics ended just before three am.

You set the Love Card back on your nightstand. After you splashed mild water onto your face from the sink, you started multitasking, attempting to brush your teeth and remove your pyjama bottoms at the same time. Then, there was a knock at your door. You spared a glance through the peephole while the toothbrush hung from the corner of your mouth and the frigid air hit your bare legs. Upon recognizing the face reflected through the fisheye lens, you nearly choked on the mint-flavoured spit collected at the back of your throat, which forced you to unpleasantly compose yourself at the kitchen sink.

He knocked again, and you pulled the door open almost immediately, probably appearing as though you just hiked through the wilderness. Jeonghan’s eyes widened as he smiled at you.

“Damn. Sleep well?” He remarked, looking you up and down.

You were in the midst of a yawn as you answered. “Um, yes. I-I mean no. Wait, I don’t know what I’m saying. What was the question?”

Jeonghan nodded. “I’ll take that as a no.” He then reached into the pocket on his flannel coat. “Anyways, I have your phone. You left it on my bedside table the other night. Figured it’s kind of useful, I guess.”

“Oh my god. I did that?” You winced, realizing you must have been so tired and discombobulated from Jeonghan blowing your brains out that you forgot. “It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

Leaning your temple against the door, you sighed. “How was that dinner thing with your parents? Was it any fun?”

The boy shook his head, pulling out his car keys and tossing them from hand to hand. “No. It was all business bullshit. What they want me to do with my future after I graduate uni. How to be responsible with my money since they think I’m gonna blow it in a few years. Trying to structure my life around stuff I don’t really give a damn about.”

“O-Oh…” You frowned, “well, was there at least good food?”

Jeonghan stopped playing with his keys and titled his head at you. “Yeah,” he said, his eyes gentle, “they had great red velvet cake.”

Unfortunately, your neighbours must have woken up and decided it was a little too peaceful at such an hour, because you heard a loud, clanging thump echo from the room beside yours, like someone had dropped a metal pot or pan on the ground. Of course, the yelling started.

It didn’t last nearly as long compared to the night before, just a few scolding comments which were ultimately muffled. You wondered what Jeonghan was thinking as he blinked at the neighbour’s door and realized how despairing the narrow, dimly-lit hallway looked. After visiting his high-end apartment numerous times based in the luxury core of the city, with its beautiful architecture and sparkle, you were frankly a bit humiliated he was witnessing this drab part of your life – the reason you were seeking his service in the first place. You apologized through your teeth for the commotion, though Jeonghan merely shrugged.

“It’s better than nothing, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true. But those two next door can be a handful sometimes. I don’t get it. If they hate each other, then just break up. Get divorced. It’s like they want to be miserable on purpose.”

“Bet you wish you could get the hell outta here, huh?”

“All the time.” You replied wistfully. “I’m thinking of going to the mall today, actually. I need a new bath towel. Whatever gets me away.”

“You want a ride there?” Jeonghan asked, shaking his keys.

At that, you smiled a little too wide. “Maybe.”

Carefully, you picked up a thin, glass bottle of pink perfume from the display counter, tilting the liquid back and forth as the lights gleamed off the gold nozzle. Everything inside the store was diamond bright and almost blinding, while the air smelled strongly of expensive floral. The employees were tailored in smooth, sophisticated suits, which made you more petrified than usual to touch anything, hence your very delicate inspection of the perfume as you waited for Jeonghan to finish his conversation with the front clerk. Since his father’s collection was sold at the boutique, Jeonghan seemed to have a cordial relationship with the staff, and they had recognized him almost immediately.

As most of their merchandise was quite expensive, you always ignored the boutique until Jeonghan suggested you stop by. It didn’t help that there was actually some cute clothing begging to be bought, though you knew one swift glance at the price tag would change your mind. You brought the perfume bottle close to your nose and inhaled lightly.

“What does it smell like?” Jeonghan asked.

You sniffed again. “It’s sweet, though it’s not strong.”

“Let me smell.” He said, and so you raised the bottle up to his nose. Jeonghan wrapped his hand around yours as he took a breath, shaking his head in disapproval. “That’s all wrong. I don’t like it.”

“It is kind of high schoolish.” You told him, setting the test bottle back onto the counter as though you were laying down a jewel. “I just need a new scent, you know? I actually love that one bottle your mom did, the summer tropic one. It’s so peachy but mild. I’m running out.”

“For real?” Jeonghan laughed, his eyes skipping over the different shaped containers. “You use one of my mom’s perfumes?”

“Um, yeah. Have you even smelled the tropic one? It’s amazing.”

“I don’t hang around her laboratory too often.” He replied. “It gives me a big fucking headache. Smells like this place times a hundred.”

You shrugged. “I guess that’s understandable.”

Suddenly, Jeonghan had latched his hand around your elbow, pulling you around to the opposite side of the counter. He grabbed a tall, slim bottle that was made from foggy glass and a chrome silver pump.

“C’mon, give me your wrist for a second.” He said. “Try this scent. I don’t know why, but it reminds me of you.”

Pulling up your sleeve, you stuck out your wrist and allowed him to spray a thin layer against the skin. Then, you sniffed the area. At first, your forehead crinkled as you attempted to decipher its concoction of notes. There was something a little fresh and cool, but then there was this oddly mature hint of a distinguished floral scent. You couldn’t pinpoint the flower, but it was certainly addictive and very intriguing.

“It’s called Orchid Night. Smells great, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, rolling your sleeve back down “just don’t tell me what it costs. It has to be at least fifty bucks.”

“Try sixty-nine,” Jeonghan corrected, “plus tax, don’t forget.”

Immediately, you grabbed the bottle from his hand and returned the perfume to its small podium on the countertop.

“Well, let’s put it back before we break it.”

Jeonghan smirked. “I could buy it for you.”

For a split second, you were tempted to succumb, though you snapped from the thought at the last second and shook your head.

“No way. I wouldn’t let you, anyways.”

He buried his hands in his pockets, rolling those gold-copper eyes of his. Jeonghan made sure to purposefully bump into you as he walked down the bright aisle toward the clothes. “Honestly, you’re so boring, man. That scent, on you? It would be sexy.” The boy then turned around to smother you with a burning gaze. “But, fine. Have it your way.”

You hurried after him, scoffing lightheartedly to camouflage the fact your heart was beating like a broken pendulum. Jeonghan had stopped at a rack of neatly pressed clothing to sort through the hangers.

“My way is the better way,” you smiled, “always.”

Jeonghan moved the long-sleeved button-up he’d been eyeing back onto the rack, merely blowing out a puff of air.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Besides, I still need to get my bath towel.”

“We can find it on the bottom floor. At the new essentials store that just opened up. The Shower Duck, I think.”

“The Shower what?”

He couldn’t help but cackle while repeating himself. “The Shower Duck. You thought I said something else, didn’t you?”

When you were too tongue-twisted to reply, Jeonghan decided to place his fingers softly on your chin, holding your head still as he leaned in very closely to whisper, “you’re such a dirty girl, you know that?” You almost hated how casually he pulled away and continued to examine the clothing, as though he hadn’t just murmured a lascivious comment into your ear while the employees were standing a mere few meters across the store. More than anything, you desired the courage to deservingly tease him in return, to break that relaxed little shtick of his. Except, you weren’t confident nor subtle enough to attempt anything in public.

But when your eyes landed on that brand-new lingerie set wrapped primly on the nearest mannequin, you had a wonderful idea.

“No, are you being serious? Why? Why?”

His blunt fingernails sunk into the leather arms of the desk chair, scraping upward, as equally frustrated with your cruel antics as he was aroused and impatient. Maybe it was somewhat meanspirited to strut the thin, beautiful lace and ribbons curled around your body in a baby pink, and indeed, there was a moment where you pondered leniency, though, you severed the thought, because Jeonghan would surely tear each garter and bow from your outfit like it hadn’t cost anything at all. Pursing your bottom lip, you smiled, sinister and cold.

“I am being serious,” you stated firmly, nearing closer to his desk chair, “your hands won’t touch a single part of me, Jeonghan.”

He glared up at you with a dark, flickering fire in his eyes,  as if he were already weighing the consequence to breaking such rules. You began to sit comfortably on the boy’s lap, curling your arms around his neck while maintaining the intensity of the stare.

“And, if you do, I’ll grab my things and leave. It’ll just be you and your hand, for the rest of the night.” Purposefully, you brushed delicate lips, featherlight, along his warm, red-tinged ear, to which you could practically feel him harden underneath you upon the whisper, “and there’ll be nothing you can do other than remembering how good it felt when I was in your lap, grinding down on you, baby boy, just like this.”

Slowly and with focus, you rolled your hips in a deep, smooth gyration, ensuring Jeonghan felt the heavy pressure against all the right places. His hands keened for your waist, so you immediately reminded him of your unnegotiable rules, forcing them to settle on the arms of the chair. He drew in a sharp breath. And then, he started to laugh, like a beaten protagonist receiving their first, acrid taste of defeat. Jeonghan titled his head back to smile very lazily at you.

“Evil.” He said. “You’re fucking evil.”

“Mmhm,” you agreed, continuing the unhurried, steadfast pace of your hips rolling back and forth, observing with poorly hidden glee as the boy lost his smile, “but you’ll still cum, won’t you, Jeonghan?”

Before he could sneak in a clever rebuttal, you adjusted yourself even lower onto his lap, digging your nails down the back of his neck as you circled a thorough motion against his erection. Admittedly, it was difficult to maintain the domineering act. Even through the black material of the slacks, his cock was managing to create a friction with your lace underwear, a friction so rough yet fruitless that you were already tempted to take him, full and aching inside you. In order to distract yourself, you licked the tender side to Jeonghan’s neck, looping your tongue in a messy, warm pattern overtop a sensitive vein.

“Ff-fuck,” Jeonghan stuttered, scraping harshly along the chair, “you devilish little girl, c-can’t believe you’re g’nna make me cum like this—b-but it feels so damn good the way you’re moving, baby.”

You suckled until you’d drawn a shiny, wine-coloured hue to the surface of Jeonghan’s skin, to mark a dark bruise as a keepsake. He kept breathing through a parted mouth, each exhale shakier and more erratic than the last, his knuckles hard like stone while they gratingly tensed and betrayed his frustration at not being able to touch you. With slow, teasing hands, you began to drag them down his chest, nails clawing at the expensive fabric of his dress shirt. Jeonghan squirmed. He clenched his jaw and cursed rough under his breath. You focused on where his cock was poking you to apply the most dizzying pressure thus far, rolling your hips until something inside Jeonghan snapped and you felt him cum.

“Jesus—fuck!” He shouted, the loudest you had ever heard the boy, and there was a notable tear in his usually soft voice. “Keep going, keep going,” Jeonghan panted, squeezing his eyes shut, “keep fucking moving just like that, sweetheart. A-Ahh, ff-fuck, feels s-so good—"

At the pulsating sensation right beneath your core, you submitted to Jeonghan’s wish and continued grinding down, even if you were beginning to tire at your lack of stamina. However, there came a point where you were too breathless to maintain such a pace, so you trickled to a halt and steadied your hands on his firm shoulders. He tossed his head back, neck leaned against the edge of the chair. The hazy, glass look to his brown eyes and the rose glow smeared on each cheek made it appear as though he’d just touched down from heaven. As you shifted slightly in Jeonghan’s lap, you noticed the white stream of cum that had soaked through his pants, and that somehow, he was still hard.

“I didn’t know you could beg, Jeonghan.” You remarked, grinning, meanwhile attempting to catch your breath.

He shook his head. “Don’t expect it too much.”

“Well, I can tell you’re satisfied, either way.”

He chuckled, brushing some of the loose hairs from his face. You felt his hands settle upon your waist’s bare skin, warm and squeezing. In that moment, you just didn’t possess the same acuteness to scold him.

“Almost,” Jeonghan huffed, “but, what do you suppose you’ll do to please yourself, sweetheart?” He leaned forward, until his forehead was just a sliver away from bumping yours, the boy sliding a hand down your abdomen and beneath the lace underwear. As he stroked the tips of his fingers along your slit, he smirked. “I’ve never felt someone so wet before, dripping all over my fingers and I’m barely touching you. Did it turn you on that much, sweetheart? Feeling my hard cock right underneath this needy pussy of yours?” Jeonghan teased with a smirk and a low, calm tone. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to duct tape his mouth shut or allow him to keep talking, as there was something about his honeyed voice which wound you up like clockwork.

Yet, before you could even start the syllable of a response, Jeonghan pushed you strongly from his lap, his hands glued to your waist as he guided you to stumble against the bed. Your back hit the mattress, the sheets puffing up around you. And then, Jeonghan was kissing you, lips clashing messily while he took advantage of the switched power dynamic to run his hands over your every inch. One second, they were cupping your breasts overtop the baby pink bralette. Another second, they were grabbing at your ass and kneading so desperately. You were being ravaged. It was overwhelming, it was gratifying, it was needed beyond belief.

“Hey,” Jeonghan said, separating his mouth from the side of your throat to stare at you with an oddly sentimental eye, “before I get all up in your guts and everything— you look beautiful. Even if you did choose this outfit to be a big fucking tease.” His fingers brushed down the edge of your jaw, and he smiled at you in a way that wasn’t clever or teetering on sarcasm. Your heart leapt like a little frog in your chest.

“Really?” You questioned him, not because you didn’t believe the lingerie suited your figure, but rather, you weren’t expecting this sweetness from someone who was always so quick to get rid of you.

He nodded, raising a suspecting eyebrow. “Yeah, really. What, you think I’m lying to you or something?”

“No, I don’t think that,” you answered quickly, curling your fingers into the bedsheets, “I just—I wasn’t… Uh, never mind.”

“Alright,” Jeonghan laughed, lowering his head to delicately kiss your cheek, and then your neck, “you’re a bit strange sometimes, you know that?” He mumbled against the sensitive skin, even daring to dig his knee between your thighs to make you increasingly pliable.

“I-I know,” you stuttered, unable to help your embarrassing voice crack. But you still smiled, letting Jeonghan explore and pleasure your body with an uncharacteristic tenderness for the remainder of the night.

Twelve am.

Usually, at this time, you’d be at the bottom floor of his apartment complex, seated by the lobby water fountain. You’d be examining your face with a pocket mirror, awaiting the yellow taxi cab, and trying to avoid eye contact with the wealthy businesspeople filtering from the elevators in glamourous congregation.

However, tonight was different.

Tonight, you were in Jeonghan’s bed, with a white sheet covering the lower half of your bodies, an ear pressed to his bare, warm chest while you breathed him in like the wind on a bright summer’s day. You felt his fingertips trace long figure eights down your spine and then dance back up to the subtle curve of your shoulder blades. Sometimes it tickled, other times it was a touch so soft it was hardly there, and in between you thought he might have been tracing words. The room was quiet. But good quiet— the comfortable quiet. And then you heard Jeonghan speak into the crown of your head while his hand stilled at your waist.

“Did that salon ever call you back?” He asked.

You sighed, focusing on your thumb which brushed a small freckle on his pectoral muscle. “They emailed me, and said their position was already filled, but that they’ll try to look for another opening.”

Jeonghan rubbed your hip. “That’s good, right? I mean, they didn’t just flat out reject you. They’re gonna keep you in mind.”

“It’s better than what I’m used to getting,” you answered, pressing your lips together and tilting your head up at him.

And, that’s when it struck you, like someone had just clanged a bell right beside your head. You were still in Jeonghan’s bed. You were still in Jeonghan’s apartment. You were still with Jeonghan. Feeling as though you’d broken some vastly significant cardinal rule, you operated on a strange basis of panic and autopilot, already seated at the edge of the mattress while you tucked your underwear back on.

“I’m sorry,” you spewed, reaching for your shirt next and straightening it out frantically in your lap, “the time escaped me. I-I know I have to go. And, my Love Card, I think it’s in my purse or—”

“Can you slow down?” Jeonghan laughed, casting a hand through his loose, disarrayed hair which you had admittedly tugged earlier in the night like your life depended on it. The boy’s arms circled around your midframe, hugging your back to his chest. “I don’t care about that stupid card right now,” Jeonghan hummed into your ear, “stay.”

At that, you almost choked. “Stay? You want me to stay?” You repeated dumbly, dropping the inside-out shirt back onto your lap.

The coldest shiver split down your spine as Jeonghan buried his face against your neck, taking a breath of your scent, kissing your skin.

“Yeah,” he purred, now pecking the soft spot behind your ear, “I want you to stay. Or, if you really want to go home, I won’t stop you.”

“No,” you replied almost immediately, melting into his voice, his touch, his body, “trust me, I’d rather be here.”

Jeonghan’s arms relaxed their snug grip.

“I figured that.”

Even though you had strongly protested the idea, Jeonghan succeeded at wearing you down akin to an ocean tide forming whorls into rock, and now you were seated before your vanity with an array of makeup scattered at your fingertips as you prepared for a dinner. His parents were going to be there, in addition to some business partners and close friends, which sounded like something from a hellish nightmare. In fact, Jeonghan himself didn’t seem all that eager to attend. He’d been sprawled across your bed for the past half hour, with the long drapes of his coat fanned around him, as he flipped through an old magazine. You were certain he just didn’t want to tough another dinner alone.

After focusing a spritz of perfume to your neck (the orchid one, bought by Jeonghan, because he was very insistent that you not smell like his mother) you shut off the vanity lights and sighed.

“I think I’m ready… Physically though, not mentally.”

Jeonghan yawned, tossing the magazine aside before he pushed himself to sit upright on the bed. He rubbed at his eye.

“Trust me, it’s not going to be the big, royal midnight ball that you’re picturing. My parents have these dinners all the time. You’ll be the centre of attention for a few minutes, and then it’s pretty much just business central from there. You’ll be lucky if you can even get a word in. I stopped trying months ago.”

You smiled at him, feeling slightly better about the situation, and took one last, scrutinizing glance in the mirror. The dress was simple yet elegant, a mute shade of dark blue with a beaded, crystal belt that you had forgotten about, as you discovered it laying behind a stool shoved in your closet. The fabric had an elastic tightness to it and was hemmed shorter than you remembered, just above your fingertips. You tried not to judge or overthink the figure which reflected in the vanity glass, or what Jeonghan’s parents might assume upon their first introduction to someone who was so clueless on their accolades. It was merely a dinner.

“Stop worrying so much,” Jeonghan hummed, sensing that you were at the forefront of a spiral. His hands settled to your hips and he caught your eye through the mirror. “No one is going to judge you, or poke fun at you, or say anything mean. I promise.” He then grabbed your winter coat off the bed, helping you slide into the arms, and even doing up the buttons. “You’re gorgeous.” Jeonghan said, tapping your chin.

It didn’t help that he could fluster you so easily.

Joshua wasn’t at all who you expected him to be, while simultaneously encompassing everything you would indeed expect from the position of Jeonghan’s closest friend. He was a juxtaposition personified. Slick, ash blonde hair combed into a handsome wave, eyes which twinkled like the restaurant’s diamond chandelier, and a soothing voice which could be a cup of warm milk on a frosty day, though his interactions with Jeonghan portrayed him as childlike and frivolous. He greeted you, at first with a quick hug. You heard him exhale deeply.

“Wow,” Joshua commented, retreating to shake your hand, “you smell amazing! I mean—well, I hope that doesn’t sound weird.”

You laughed, and wondered how someone could smile with such a prettiness. “Thank you! I’d be upset if you didn’t notice, actually.”

Joshua continued to shake your hand. “Oh, yeah, agree. It’s wonderful to meet you. Jeonghan’s been trying to hide you, it seems.”

“Go shove a break stick in your mouth,” Jeonghan scoffed, blowing a loose piece of hair from his eyes, “and stop shaking her hand like that. You’re gonna snap her whole arm off.”

Finally, Joshua released his grip, and your arm fell back to your side like a limp noodle. His cheeks were starting to turn pink.

“I was not. Anyways—” he nodded at you, “like I said, nice to meet you. I hope we’ll talk more tonight and I’ll pick your brain.”

“Sure thing,” you answered, waving the boy off as he returned to the dinner table before facing Jeonghan. “He seems nice.”

“And totally into you. I haven’t seen him shake someone’s hand like that since I introduced him to Elouise from France. He’s gonna turn into a lost puppy all over again. Bet he’ll try to sweet talk you later.”

“Can’t wait.” You grinned, already giggling through your teeth.

Jeonghan c0nsquently thwapped your forehead with his finger.

However, meeting Jeonghan’s parents was starkly different than the good-humoured Joshua. They both appeared cross, and firm, and before you had even shaken their hands you were forced to wipe yours against your dress. The father was a bit softer around the edges, showing you a pleased smile that reminded you instantaneously of Jeonghan, while the mother was stone-faced and seemed as though she hadn’t slouched since birth. Even when she complimented your fragrance, there was a tartness to her voice which made it sound disingenuous.

“Well, Jeonghan,” she said, clasping her hands together, “I’m glad to finally see you with a lovely lady on your arm. I didn’t think it was possible that you could settle for someone after being with Baejin.”

“Oh?” The father piped up, “you’re my son’s girlfriend?”

Before you could respond, Jeonghan had beaten you to it.

“No, she’s…” he bit his lip hard, “she’s just a friend. Mom kept nagging that I always come to these dinners alone, and she was down.”

For some reason, it felt like someone had pierced a pin straight through your heart – a very tiny hole which shouldn’t hurt all that much, yet stung like flesh to orange, glowing metal. In fact, there was a visible shift in your countenance, from a nervous smile to a sunken frown, but you were able to veil it very quickly and pretend nothing was wrong. Why should you feel so disappointed that Jeonghan had introduced you as a friend? The promiscuous nature of your relationship didn’t immediately loop you two together as soulmates, or lovers, or even the mildest beginnings of boyfriend and girlfriend. You tried to refocus yourself.

Jeonghan’s mother nodded. “Even if she isn’t your next Baejin, it’s nice to meet a new face. The dinner talk might bore you no doubt.”

“No, not at all—” you forced a smile, “I’m just excited to be here.”

It was easier to endure the night than you thought, because true to Jeonghan’s word, the conversation was a bunch of business lingo that you didn’t exactly understand, with the occasional question flitted to you by Joshua who sat across the table. You had completely emptied your glass of ice water, and were halfway through your wine when two fancy, tuxedoed servers stopped by the table to collect everyone’s dishes. A distant relative was seated to Jeonghan’s right, and they had swept him into a discussion of whether or not he was interested in pursuing his current degree or if he would abandon it to work fulltime for his father’s brand. Meanwhile, Joshua had whisper-shouted your name.

You raised an eyebrow, “what?”

“Are you getting dessert?” The blonde asked, already shoving a small, plastic menu to his face. “I can’t decide what I want.”

“I guess so,” you picked up an extra menu sitting by a purple wine bottle and started to browse the list of decadent food.

Joshua sighed, “I usually get the cheesecake… but, I’m torn. What if I want the caramel apple baked pudding with black truffles?”

“The caramel apple baked what?” You questioned, laughing from the absolute mouthful that Joshua just worded so effortlessly.

“I know, I know. It’s a jumble. But my family and I come here all the time so I’ve gotten these names down pat. What are you thinking?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I’ve never been here before, actually.”

His eyes, glistering and delighted, locked with yours. “Can I recommend you something, then?” Joshua said while smiling. “Red velvet cake. It’s right at the bottom. Not to mention the slice is huge so there’s always leftovers for the next day. It’s a favourite here.”

The relative responsible for dragging Jeonghan into another trite conversation concerning his future had excused themselves from the table. He was finally able to return his attention to you, and you slid over the dessert menu so he could pick something. You noted that Jeonghan’s hand had fallen onto your thigh, right at the hem of your dress, and you could only surmise that trouble was brewing. Joshua took a sip from his water glass, then settled it back on the table while subtly eyeing you.

“So, I’ve never seen you around before. Are you in school?”

You tapped your nails against the white table cloth, shaking your head, “no—I had to drop my program. It just wasn’t what I thought it would be and, well, I took a huge hit financially. So, no school.”

“Not everything is going to be a bullseye,” Joshua said, “I’m sure there’ll be more opportunity down the road. This other friend of mine, his name is Mingyu, he does this thing called the Love Café—” the boy then gestured to Jeonghan, “and I know he’s done it once before. Have you heard of it? Maybe it’s not up your alley, but I hear it’s good money.”

The suggestion had quite visibly stunned you. It seemed that Jeonghan was intent to keep the foundation of your relationship as covert as possible, which prompted his ‘friends’ comment before dinner, therefore you had no choice but to follow the rouse, even if the boy was currently sliding his hand further up the inside of your thigh, pushing inch by inch under your dress. Jeonghan didn’t contribute a single word.

“Um, the name sounds familiar. I’ll have to look it up.” You then glanced at him, hanging his head over the menu like a child who forgot their glasses, probably hiding some million-watt smirk.

“Are you having dessert?” Joshua asked his friend.

Jeonghan sat up straight, nodding, “I am.”

“The red velvet cake?”

“Vanilla ice cream. The one that comes on the skillet.”

“Oh, that one’s seriously good,” Joshua groaned, “ask them to put a chocolate chip cookie on the side. It gets all warm and—”

“Joshua,” the young lady beside him, probably in her late twenties, with petal-shaped, twinkling eyes similar to his and ice-like smooth skin, suddenly wrapped her hand around his arm, “can you come outside with me for a few minutes? I think I left my wallet in the car.”

He pushed out his chair. “Sure thing—guys, I’ll be back in a few. I need to help my cousin. If the waiter comes, order for me please.”

While you might have promised Joshua to follow through on his unnecessarily complicated apple pudding, such thoughts were quick to be discarded the moment he’d left the table, as Jeonghan had given you much more to think about. The boy’s hand was wedged between the apex of your thighs with two fingers pressed flat against your underwear. You felt heat, and the faintest burning of pleasure, one that yearned for you to start a gentle undulation against his hand because your unruly body was already eager for stimulation. Jeonghan picked up his wine glass.

“What are you doing?” You tried to shelter the whisper from the table’s guests, hoping the business speech was too engrossing.

As laid back as an ironing board, Jeonghan took a long gulp from his drink, swishing the wine from cheek to cheek before he swallowed. He set the wide-rimmed glass back down and wiped his mouth.

“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing?’” He said, raising an eyebrow at you as though you’d conjured a make-believe tale. However, the instant he started to slide up his index finger so it could push firmly against your clit, a smirk penetrated that complacent expression.

You grabbed his wrist, stared him dead in those honey-brown eyes. “Are you insane?” the whisper was harsh, “we’re in public.”

He tilted his head indifferently. “What’s your point, love? I get to play with your pussy whenever I want. It’s mine now. Remember?”

The dirty-mouthed comment split a fire beneath your cheeks like a flint cracking steel. Not only that, but Jeonghan studied each minor contort of your face as he slipped two digits beneath your underwear, brushing his fingertips ever so softly around your sensitive clit. You gulped, dry and gritty, hating that your thighs were starting to spread.

“Jeonghan!” A voice called his name from down the table.

Fear gripped your poor heart like latex glove. It was an older relative, asking him to pass down the remaining bottle full of wine.

“Oh, such a nice boy!” She chirped.

You nearly gawked at the remark considering the immoral placement of his hand and what he was doing. On the contrary – as much as you wanted to be embarrassed for allowing Jeonghan to touch you in public viewing– he knew his talents much too well, and the manner in which he used your own arousal to lubricate the massaging motion of his finger to your clit was an astounding bliss. Your legs fell wider apart, inviting him to explore a more rigorous touch, and that’s when Jeonghan curled his two fingers inside of you until his knuckles couldn’t fit.

Before your pinched expression could be caught by anyone at the table, you looked straight down at your lap, watching his wrist work beneath the navy-blue fabric. In fact, very faintly, you could hear the squelch from his digits pumping deep and slow into your warmth. Your bottom lip was quivering as he drew them out, now running the long length of his fingers upward to graze beneath the hood of your clit. He repeated a stroking gesture. It triggered the nerves to swell and pulse.

“I see Joshua walking back,” Jeonghan murmured, an arrogance thick in his voice, “and you don’t want him to find out about this, do you? Or, maybe I’m wrong.” He slid his entire hand beneath your underwear and cupped your centre, squeezing like he owned it. “Maybe you want him to know you’re such a whore of a girl that you’ll take my fingers anywhere. I mean, look at how much you’ve opened your legs, and I didn’t even ask you to. I love when you behave just for me, honey.”

Joshua collapsed back at the table with a huff, combing some snow flurries from his hair. “We found the wallet.” He said.

Yet, you couldn’t even bring yourself to face him. Jeonghan had spread your lips with his index and ring finger, using his middle digit to make rhythmic, deep circles around the bud. An erotic whine escaped your teeth and Joshua’s eyes widened; his face tinged with concern.

“Are you alright?” He questioned. “Did you get a Charlie horse?”

“N-No, I’m fine, really.” You composed yourself with a weak smile, and took a sip from your wine. “I got one of those rib pains.”

The blonde boy winced. “Ouch, those hurt big time.”

Honestly, you didn’t think it was possible to endure dessert without revealing to some degree that you were being, well, stretched open by Jeonghan. It was sheer torture staring at the waiter while he took your order, knowing the boy was lazily pumping his fingers inside you with a half-smirk seated so comfortably to his face. When that huge, delicious slice of cream red velvet cake was placed before you on the table, you could only fork a few pathetic bites, and when Joshua offered you to try a spoonful from his warm apple pudding, you nearly squealed the word no as Jeonghan rolled your sore clit between his fingertips. The most egregious aspect to the entire daubable was that the boy stripped your orgasm from you at the very last second, like stopping a rollercoaster just before it tips over the downhill plummet.

“How was the ice cream?” Joshua asked him innocently.

You observed with horror as Jeonghan brought that sinful hand to his mouth, lapping his tongue against his two fingertips as though he were actually savouring a sweet and flavourful vanilla.

“Delicious.” He grinned, catching your mortified stupor from the corner of his eye. “I’d taste it again in a heartbeat, Shua.”

Dropping the slice of bread into a shallow bowl, you used the spatula to submerge it underneath the milk, egg and cinnamon mixture until it was completely coated. Then, you slid the bread onto your buttered frying pan to let its surfaces crisp and brown. Since you began utilizing the service granted by the Love Café, life at your depressing excuse for an apartment was becoming more bearable, though your ultimate goal would be to ditch the paper-thin walls and insult-spewing neighbours once money was no longer a prevalent issue. You were still insistent on supporting yourself too, if you could ever score a job.

You flipped the bread onto its opposite face, pressing it down with the spatula as the pan sizzled and the butter popped. A few days had passed since your last intimacy with Jeonghan, and the proof would have been stamped to your Love Card if the boy had actually written his initials like usual. The thing was, Jeonghan – who had always been so firm and unwavering on the rules of the café – was now skirting about the regulations as though they were optional. There were days when he didn’t even initial the card, but still delivered his transactions. In fact, you were almost positive that sex had happened more than twelve times and that you could be renewing your card if wanted (you didn’t).

As silly and cliché as it sounded, you liked Jeonghan. You constantly thought about him and missed him and wondered what he was doing while you were trapped in bed listening to another argument between your spiteful neighbours. There was always a deep, electric pounding in your chest upon weaving the tips of your fingers along his skin, touching him, exploring him. Yet, when he held you close, tucked your body tight against his like there was nothing surrounding you but ice, comfort found a home in your belly like a warm, homecooked meal.

After spilling some icing sugar and strawberries across the toast, now fried a delicious shade of golden-brown, you took a seat at the counter and dug in. There had been an occasion where Jeonghan brought you breakfast after warping your legs into complete gelatine (you had no idea that kitchen table sex could be so fiery and passionate), which proved to be a pleasant morning, where you could still feel the softness of his thumb as he kindly brushed some whipped cream from your bottom lip. You sighed, sticking a strawberry into your mouth. How foolish it might be to fall this far and this devotedly for someone like him.

But you didn’t want to stop yourself.

In fact, you reached for your phone across the counter, swiped into your messages, and decided to be bold. You texted him.

[  9:29 AM ]: Hey! I know that I’m not supposed to send you anything unrelated to our business lol, but

[9:29 AM ]: Just wondering if you’re available to grab a coffee with me or something along those lines?

Setting the phone down and turning it over so you wouldn’t be tempted to helplessly wait for a notification, you continued eating. After scraping the last few pieces of toast and syrup around the plate, there was a vibration and a quick, ding! Strangely, you were starting to sweat.

[ Jeonghan | 9:34 AM ]: Sorry. In a lecture rn.

Of course, your surge of bravery immediately dehydrated, and you decided it was best to pretend that you hadn’t asked him anything at all – for your confidence’s sake. The next two hours were spent cleaning the kitchen, taking a short walk outside the complex to feel the Northern air refresh your face, and finally, a long bath, in which you nearly fell asleep and drowned as the steam lulled your eyes shut. While wrapping your body snug in that new, hot pink bath towel, you heard a knock at the door. You assumed it was the painter who occupied the room directly below yours, as you had borrowed his vacuum the night before, though you weren’t exactly raving at the thought of answering him in a towel.

However, by squinting through the fisheye lens, you were shocked (and greatly relieved) to discover that it wasn’t the middle-aged painter dressed in his splattered, dirty overalls, but Jeonghan.

And he was holding a drink.

You unlocked the door.

“Uh, hello after all. What are you doing here?”

He smiled at you and held up the cardboard cup, “my lecture ended, and I thought I’d do you a solid. Couldn’t remember if it was two sugars-one cream, or two creams-one sugar. So I tossed a coin.”

“What exactly was the result?” You giggled.

“Heads,” Jeonghan answered, “two sugars-one cream it is.”

“You’re lucky that’s correct.”

Accepting the warm cup from his hand, you set it carefully on the kitchen counter. When you returned to the door, Jeonghan was evidently ogling you. He really suited the image of a casual university student when he wasn’t dressed to gems and jewels in his sumptuous clothing.

“I knew the hot pink towel would look good on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not dropping it, so forget it.”

“Whoa,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “I didn’t ask you to drop it, sweetheart. I’d rather you not actually, with this door wide open and everything.”

“Did I really just hear that from you, Mr, Dinner Table?” Folding your arms, you stared him down with an accusing expression.

He held up one finger in defense. “First of all, that was under the table, so unless someone bumped their fork or something, then we were pretty much safe. This is you dropping your whole towel right in the doorway like there isn’t a weirdo probably peeping you across the hall as we speak. And I’m not letting anyone look at you like that, ever.”

“Fine,” you sighed, hoping he couldn’t spot the flustered heart pumping your chest beneath the towel, “you’ve made your point.”

Jeonghan checked his silver wrist watch, “fuck. I gotta get going, need to be at the studio so I can be a taper dummy again.”

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, “talk to y—”

Suddenly, the boy was cupping each side of your face in his hands, and his lips pressed soft but quick to your forehead. Jeonghan then pinched your thigh under the towel, a gesture which felt oddly endearing rather than sexual, before he left the corridor.

“Later!” He’d called.

Shutting the door, you returned to your seat at the counter, holding the coffee cup up to your mouth as you took a small, nervous sip.

How could you let yourself fall this easily for him?

Jeonghan’s washroom was somehow nicer than your entire apartment, and you were fairly certain that your eyes had never seen so much white-grey marble, all squeaky-clean and aglow with lights. He’d shot you a text roughly an hour ago, right after he was released from the painful effort required to keep Joshua’s peewee soccer players in check, wondering if you were available to come over. Of course, the innocence to the term ‘come over’ was nothing more than a euphemism, a means of sugar coating what Jeonghan actually intended: to be inside you no doubt. And since the boy was so drained and unwilling to instigate any work himself, Jeonghan decided that a steaming, hot bath should do.

Well – a bath which involved you seated on his dick. The tub was dark grey tile, square-shaped, and practically the size of a small jacuzzi. It even had a bench to sit on. While it had been difficult at first to simply cockwarm the boy – when all you could feel was how deeply he spearheaded into your sensitive spot and how this shock would ripple from your abdomen at even his gentlest movement– you knew he wasn’t looking to make things quick and temporary. Therefore, you settled into his lap, wrapping your arms around Jeonghan’s neck while his circled your waist beneath the water. Both of you were starting to fall asleep.

“Jeonghan,” you whispered, lifting your head from his shoulder, only to remember that you were indeed naked and this heat lapping around you was definitely not a blanket, “can I tell you something?”

With his eyes still shut, he nodded, his fingers digging appreciatively at your hips. “Of course you can, baby.” He replied, his voice sounding deeper than usual as he orientated on the edges of sleep.

Smiling, you combed through the damp hairs at his nape, your voice reverberating like a musical instrument off the marble. “Remember the salon place? They called me two days ago, said they had an opening for me and that I could start next Monday. I… I wanted to text you about it, like, as soon as it happened. But I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“What? Really?” Jeonghan was staring at you now, his head straightened from its leisurely position against the edge of the tub and cocked with interest. The fact he seemed so intrigued, that you could read the genuine excitement building up in those brown eyes, had almost made you happier than the salon’s phone call. “Congratulations!” He leaned forward to kiss you, pecking your lips chastely the first time, and then slower come the second, his hands squeezing your thighs.

After a tiny laugh, you sighed contentedly. “Thank you. It’s going to be so nice having my own cashflow and everything. And if I can work my way up and become like, a kickass hair stylist? Can you imagine?”

“Should I grow my hair out more so you can practice cutting it? You’ve got a steady hand, don’t you?” Jeonghan asked, mostly teasing, as you could imagine his parents harping him during his next session at Opal Studio if he looked as though he’d ran through some hedge clippers.

Returning the affection, you kissed the rosy tip of his nose. “I think my hands are pretty steady. We’ll find out I guess, and we’ll know for sure if a huge chunk of your hair falls to the floor.”

Your laughter immediately mingled, and you hid your smile against the boy’s neck, a very moonstruck, loopy smile which felt like riding a blazing comet between the stars. If you were legitimately able to climb higher amongst the business, then you could picture a life in which you didn’t need to lean on Jeonghan and the Love Café for financial support. In fact, there were moments where you felt rather dirty using his money even when he was completely insistent on such matters, like buying food and paying off bills. You held tight to a certain hope, that you could become independent again, and maybe, just maybe, be able to keep this beautiful boy whom you once thought would hate you.

His fingers tapped up your spine, urging you to face him.

“Seriously,” Jeonghan said, “I’m happy for you.”

“I know,” you answered, so quietly he could hardly hear it.

And then, you decided to kiss Jeonghan, placing your damp hand upon his cheek while your mouths slotted together. The contact had lost its grace almost instantly, and the kiss turned from a sweet gesture to a sensuality so thick you could feel it swelter the air and pool between your legs. He offered his tongue for you to suckle by sliding it smoothly into your mouth, and from there, Jeonghan’s intended relaxation had vanished. His hands grazed to the front of your body, reaching up and sliding back and forth over each breast. It wasn’t until Jeonghan began massaging his thumbs in circular motions around your nipples that you moaned into his mouth, a sound which flicked a smirk to his face.

Once his lips were shiny and slick with your saliva, he moved each kiss down the side of your neck, now pinching at your nipples, even twisting gently and making sure to ease the dull throb by rubbing them afterward. It was becoming unbearable. You needed to move. However, the second you started a rhythm in Jeonghan’s lap, he shook his head.

“Be still,” he told you, lightly gripping your chin.

The desperation in your whine was horribly apparent, almost soaking each word. “No Jeonghan, I-I can’t do that anymore—” ignoring him, you continued to grind your hips and move the water around you, feeling his engorged head tick against that one spot of insane pleasure, “I need t’cum now, all over your cock.” With every bounce in his lap, you begged, “please, please, please.” This prompted Jeonghan to grab your waist much tighter than usual and slam you down, holding you still.

“No, not like that,” he grunted, and you wondered if his control was simply otherworldly or if he was just that talented at hiding how good he felt. “I’ll make you cum, sweetheart,” Jeonghan nodded, “but you can’t move. I just want you to sit there, all the way down.”

He then leaned in close to your face, nearly pressing his forehead to yours, and that’s when you felt his thumb brush with a featherlight, fleeting touch across your clit. The sudden stimulation jerked your body. Jeonghan bit his lip and grinned while continuing the sensitive touch, the pressure becoming heavier with each minute that passed. Your thighs started to tremble, and your moans were echoing around the washroom.

The honeyed dirty talk crawled up Jeonghan’s throat. “You’re such a cute little cocksleeve, sweetheart,” he purred, titling his head as he rubbed his thumb faster, “oh, look at you, baby. Shaking and crying and taking it like it’s the only thing you’re good for—” a messy kiss to calm you down, thin strings of saliva hanging in the air each time your mouths separated, “I bet you’re gonna cum for me soon, right?” The boy encouraged, keeping his forehead flush to yours so he could observe with utmost clarity the beautiful contortions of your face. “I know you are, sweetheart. Because it feels so good, right?” You nodded frantically, digging your fingers into his neck like a cat sinking in its claws. Jeonghan’s thumb pushed beneath the hood of your clit, directly massaging the soft bud, and the pleasure inside you leapt to a new high which made you dumbly lose all sense.

“Cum.” Jeonghan commanded so gently, his gaze burning against your eyes, squeezed shut. At the straightforward word, you allowed the sensation to swallow you like a current, and the hot, teary cry you mewled had been quickly snuffed as the boy pushed his lips to yours.

“Can feel you clenching so fucking tight around my cock,” he chuckled, digging his nose into your hair and speaking warmly beside your ear, “and how much you’re throbbing right under my thumb. Must feel so good, sweetheart, cumming all over me like such a good girl.”

You slumped against him, overwhelmed, emptied, and breathing so heavy that you were afraid the oxygen might dwindle completely from your lungs. The fact Jeonghan could remain so composed while buried to the hilt in your heat was something else that frightened you, though, in the moment, you preferred not to think about it, instead concentrating on the distant sensation of Jeonghan drawing galactic shapes to each your shoulder blades.

Hopefully, he’d let you stay the night.

Once you started the receptionist job at the hair salon, you had bumped into Joshua on a Friday evening. While his platinum blonde look was indeed enchanting and princely, he complained that it was difficult to maintain the roots, and that he often found himself back in the stylist’s chair for a touch up. He’d come in on a whim. Luckily – due to the late hour – there was an open seat, and Joshua puffed a great sigh of relief as he hooked his jacket onto the salon coat hanger. Curious if there was more behind the reason to his abrupt appearance, you conversed with him while he waited for the stylist to tidy up her work area.

That’s when Joshua informed you of the Opal’s Galleria Night, a fashion exhibition which would display Mr. Yoon’s newest edition for his upcoming Spring line. Joshua seemed surprised that you hadn’t known about the Galleria, or, that Jeonghan hadn’t mentioned it to you. Oddly enough, Jeonghan had been radio silent the past three days; not a phone call, or a voice memo, or even a text. Yesterday you had hoped to catch him stuck in the books at the library, but the area where he usually sat was occupied by a study group of freshman. It concerned you a little.

An ungraceful quickie in the washroom after his three-hour lecture ended on Tuesday was your last encounter. Not to mention, there was only one more opening left on your Love Card.

“He didn’t say anything,” you told Joshua, pretending to act indifferent “so… I don’t think he wants me there. It’s not a big deal.”

Yet, that’s not how you truly felt. There had to be some reason for the boy’s keeping you in the dark. Did he not want to explain the ‘friends’ trope to all the Galleria members, like at the dinner? Or, was he thinking that you wouldn’t be interested? It wasn’t easy to seem unphased.

“Jeonghan doesn’t need to invite you,” Joshua had said, “cause I’ll invite you myself. Mr. Yoon said it was more than  fine if I brought someone along. So, why not you? It’ll make the night more fun.”

At first, you vehemently rejected the invite, no matter how sweetly Joshua attempted to rope you into a night of free perfume samples, delicious catering food and a chocolate fountain perfect for dipping strawberries. However, when the hair stylist pulled Joshua away to fix his darkening roots, you had much time to mull over the offer, and even the fact you felt poignant about dismissing it. As you tapped a pen against the desk, staring out the window into the grey, dulling sky, you convinced yourself there could be no harm in attending the Opal’s Galleria Night. Besides, you and Jeonghan weren’t cast in stone. He probably wouldn’t bat any eyelash anyways, knowing his eased nature.

And so, you caught Joshua just before he left.

You told him you’d changed your mind.

When Jeonghan first saw you at the Opal Galleria, it was from across the ballroom that had been temporarily converted into an exhibition space, stood next to a mannequin draped in a cherub-pink slip dress. Almost comically, he gagged on some sparkling champagne held in a thin and tall glass, though he recovered smoothly as to not interrupt the conversation his father was sharing with the dense crowd. You waved at him, not too noticeably of course, but he either didn’t catch it or had decided to ignore the gesture. Shrugging, you tried not to overthink it.

Mannequins were lined up along both sides of the ballroom, adorned in the mild tones baring semblance to Spring, with the blips of baby blues, clementine oranges, and cream violets transforming the Galleria into an acrylic painting. Jeonghan’s mother took the opportunity to offer some spritzes from her most recent line, which had both you and Joshua smelling like a tulip garden. While exploring the room with the blonde boy, you stopped to examine a mannequin dressed in a relaxed, high-waisted pant and a lace camisole that seemed breezy and flowing. This collection was definitely tamer compared to the usual extravagance you had always seen through the store windows and in magazines.

“Would you wear it?” Joshua asked, chewing on a strawberry that he might as well have plucked from thin air.

Tilting your head and squinting, you took a moment to contemplate. “If it was my size I might, if I could find a price hanging off somewhere. But I don’t want to even touch it. Mannequins are weird.”

“No prices are usually displayed at the Gallerias,” Joshua informed you, “though, I will agree. It’s probably a Toy Story thing where they all start moving at night when no one’s here. Spooky, huh?”

You sighed at him, “thanks for the nightmare material.”

Suddenly, there was a tap to your bare shoulder, and you nearly yelped like a cat with a stepped-on tail as Joshua laughed between bites from his juicy strawberry. Turning around, you were met with Jeonghan, who had this flat-lined, unenthusiastic smile hardly touching the corners of his mouth. He looked rather agitated in fact, and you felt cold inside.

“Hey!” Joshua exclaimed, punching his friend’s arm. “Finally escape your dad’s novella-length speech on the pink slip?”

The crowd once gathered around the mannequin had started to disperse, with the visitors now exploring the rest of the outfits.

Jeonghan hardly payed any mind to his friend, throwing out an impatient, “yeah, it was whatever,” before he began questioning you. He started with a rather inhospitable, “why are you here?”

“I invited her,” Joshua announced, “since I ran into her at that salon place. I thought it would be nice and everything. The Gallerias can get pretty stiff if you come alone. Plus, there’s chocolate fountains.”

He appeared nettled, like he’d woken up and spilled coffee on his favourite shirt. You couldn’t place the exact emotion, nor could you identify the reason behind Jeonghan acting as though there were one-hundred choice words waiting to zap off the tip of his tongue. For an instant, you wondered if it would be worthwhile to question him, though there was a shout of the boy’s name and you spotted his parents beckoning him over from across the exhibition. Jeonghan merely rolled his eyes, disappearing just as quickly as he’d arrived to accompany them.

You folded your arms concerningly. “Do you know if something’s wrong? I haven’t seen him like that before.”

Joshua dropped the rest of the strawberry into his mouth. “He’s probably stressing over something. I wouldn’t worry too much. He’s not really one to blow up or get all in your face. I’ll talk to him later.”

Seeing as there were others who wanted to examine the camisole mannequin, you and Joshua seated yourselves at a tiny table right beside the chocolate fountain and catering foods. Though, you were unable to quell the curiosity at what Jeonghan was needed for, prompting your eyes to wander as unnaturally as possible in his direction. He’d just pulled a young woman into a hug, and she was positively gorgeous, dressed in a silk-fabric dress, form fitting and ruby red, with an elegant slit parting up to her right thigh. Her ponytail was slicked shiny as though her hair had been styled professionally, and she flaunted a dreamy smile that reminded you of a vintage female heroine.

And then, like a slap to the face, you realized she must be the woman whom Jeonghan’s parents seemed to be obsessed over.

Baejin, his ex-girlfriend.

She mentioned something into his ear, and they became giggly, the two pulling in again for another short hug. Jeonghan’s father gestured back to the pink slip mannequin, and the four walked over to discuss it for the umpteenth time. You wondered if she was going to be modeling some of the clothing. The assumption felt correct as Baejin touched the dress’ delicate fabric and the beaded, glimmering string tied around the tiny waist. Quickly, Jeonghan fetched the girl a champagne glass, the two drinking together while the father appeared to be entering another in-depth explanation. And, perhaps dignifiedly so, you were feeling mislead and upset. You speculated if this could be the reason for him to keep the Opal Galleria a secret – Jeonghan didn’t want you to catch even a glimpse of him reuniting with Baejin.

They hardly portrayed two ex’s who were now settled on different chapters to their lives. The longer you stared, the angrier, yet, more confused you felt. As you thought before, the odd relationship between you and Jeonghan was not set in stone, and it certainly didn’t ignite with the intention of actual love taking a blossom to your doorstep. It could be that you were jumping to conclusions, misreading things, or disillusioned by your tendency to wishfully think. Nonetheless, the sight still hurt.

Joshua bumped your elbow.

“Are you hungry at all? The scent from the catering tables is getting to me. I can grab a plate for you, if you want.”

With a sigh and a fragile smile, you shook your head. “No, I’ll come with you. Besides, you don’t know what I like anyways.”

“Fair enough.” Joshua agreed.

He stuck out his hand for you to take while rising from the chair.

Grabbing a small plate, you started at the end of the catering table and began making your way down, using the plastic tongs to serve yourself some spring rolls. Joshua filed after you, instead taking a bowl and scooping up some of the fresh zucchini pasta. Admittedly, you had lost your appetite after watching Jeonghan act so cordially with Baejin, though you were determined to not let the plight sour the otherwise enjoyable night you were having with Joshua. Once you reached the chocolate fountain, you swore a sparkle jumped into his eye.

“Why are you so obsessed with the fountain?” You had tried not to laugh as you asked the question.

The blonde boy looked aghast. “Because, it’s beautiful!” He picked up a strawberry arranged neatly around the base, dipping the edge briefly beneath the chocolate. “I mean, how can they make it so delicious and velvety? When I came to my first Galleria, I spent like, half my night just standing by the fountain, eating the fruit.”

You couldn’t help but think Joshua was adorable, and you grinned at him, “well, maybe I don’t have as much of a sweet tooth.”

“Just shush up and try this.”

He held out the strawberry, inviting you for a taste. At first, you paused, wondering if there was some flirtatious intention behind the gesture or if Joshua was just being his overtly kind self. And then, you held onto his wrist and took a bite from the strawberry, the warmth of the melted chocolate satin-smooth against your tongue.

Wiping the edge of your mouth, you nodded. “It is pretty tasty, actually. Let me try dipping it. You make it look weirdly fun.”

After setting down the catering plate, you took Joshua’s strawberry while he picked up a new one. Together, you pushed your fruits beneath the streaming chocolate, twisting it at the green leaf to fully coat the sides. So it wouldn’t drip, you immediately took a huge bite with a hand placed just below your mouth, humming contentedly.

“Okay,” you mumbled, still chewing, “I can see why you like this so much. I think I could get addicted to chocolate strawberry dipping.”

“Me too,” Joshua chuckled, “oh! Look, there’s whipped cream here and I didn’t even see it!” He set down his plate beside yours and grabbed the bottle like an eager little child. Popping off the cap, Joshua shook the can and pressed his fingertip against the nozzle, spraying a white-frosted peak onto the top of another strawberry. You copied him, though you had accidently sprayed too much. Once you licked the cream off your finger, you poked the entire fruit into your mouth like a funfetti-sized cupcake. For some reason, Joshua started giggling at you.

“What?” You glared at him playfully. “What’s wrong?”

Rosy tinges flushed to the arch of Joshua’s cheeks. “Uhm… Well, l-let me just—” he stuttered, cupping his hand gently to your face, his thumb brushing at a spot right below your bottom lip. “You had some whipped cream on your… chin slash lip. Sorry about that.”

“O-Oh, it’s okay.” You were stumbling yourself, tongue darting out instinctively to ensure there wasn’t anything still there.

At random, you felt this prickle tiptoe up the back of your neck, a sensation that was hardly perceptible yet singeing enough for you to notice it. Gulping, you peered toward that faceless mannequin draped in its pink slip dress, toward Jeonghan, Baejin, and his parents who were enthralled in a conversation with her. Jeonghan was glaring so blatantly at Joshua that you’d forgotten how to speak, and you couldn’t even pronounce a single word of warning as the boy started storming his way across the ballroom.

His grip was on your elbow like a viper’s teeth.

“Geez, where’d you come from?” Joshua said, though he was  able to note the tension this time, and Jeonghan’s surly behaviour.

“I need to talk to you,” Jeonghan murmured by your ear, ignoring Joshua yet again, “in the hall just outside the exhibition.”

You didn’t want to agree. Strangely enough, you felt this urge balloon inside you, an urge to cause a gigantic scene with screaming and thick tears and unnecessary curses, because as much as you wanted to dismiss your anger, there were jealous, wronged feelings inside, on fire and itching to escape from your gut. Miraculously, you held your composure, and announced to Joshua that you’d talk to him later.

Jeonghan then tore you into the empty hallway.

It was like a lightning bolt, how quickly he exploded.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jeonghan ranted, pacing back and forth as the distant echo of music bled through the wall. “Seriously, I don’t text you back for like, three days, and you’re already going on a date with my best friend—” he softened his voice in a purposefully mocking way, “letting him get all delicate with you, feeding you all lovey-dovey style and wiping that cream off your lip. Did you think I wouldn’t see it?”

“Excuse me?” Your brow instantly creased like a folded map, and you felt an intense ache hit the front of your skull. “Um, you’re one to talk! How come you didn’t tell me about the Galleria? Because you didn’t want me to see you with your arm around your ex’s waist? Because you don’t think I’m good enough to show off to your parents?”

Jeonghan gawked at you. “Baejin? For real? You think I’ve been secretly dating her behind your back or something?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You barked, tucking your arms defensively across the chest. And, while it might have been too early into the argument to pit such a statement, you had already started bubbling, and you knew there was nothing to snuff your fire. “Besides, you hardly ever get back to me apart from when you want to fuck!”

At that, the boy was momentarily stumped. What sounded like a rebuttal fizzled at the back of his throat, though it faded away. The silence worried you, because it echoed a confirmation that Jeonghan might’ve actually never seen as you as anything more than an outlet to alleviate his carnality. That, once the Love Café ordeal was finally over with, he could forget you had ever existed like erasing a mistake of smudged lead. The thought made you glassy-eyed and thus, terribly vulnerable. However, you also craved the truth to your relationship.

“Just admit it,” you beseeched him, “admit that you want me only for sex and nothing else. Is that why you didn’t bring up the Galleria? Because you think it’s easier to shove me in the dark when it’s convenient for you? Is that why you were acting so mad?”

He skimmed a hand exasperatedly through his hair. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not dating Baejin behind your back, I have never once thought you weren’t good enough to show off to my parents, and I didn’t purposefully hide the Galleria from you.”

“Right,” you scoffed, “but you’re fine with labelling me as a friend and pretending like we don’t hook up every week.”

“It’s…” he clenched his teeth and growled in frustration, “it’s complicated, alright? Can’t you just accept that?”

“Complicated?” A shudder coursed down your spine at having to repeat the boy, and the tears sprung from your eyes with such a sharp sting that it became impossible to hold them back. You felt each drop, cold and runny, drip along your face. “That’s the word you’re going to use? You’re going to look straight at me, after the entire span of our relationship since the Love Café, and tell me we’re summed up best as complicated?” Again, the word struck you like a stiff punch. If he was going to regard your connection so trivially, then you didn’t care whether or not he knew the verity of your heart. Like it would affect him anyways.

“I would’ve said we were in love,” you shrugged, watching his expression drop in a mere instant, “but—sure, let’s call it complicated.”

And, with the tears shining like salt stars on your face, you stalked out the building into the softening winter weather.

You didn’t know it could be so difficult to ignore someone, especially when you were supposed to hate them. The effect Jeonghan had on you was almost phantom-like; a constant lingering, even if the boy himself wasn’t palpable and poised right before your eyes.

It had been three days since the outburst at the Galleria. That night, you cried, and wept, and broke out the amber bottle stored beneath your sink which was only sipped from in occasions of complete misery – very well suited to the situation at hand. You had questioned calling the Love Café’s customer service desk to issue a termination of your card, and, at one point, you were standing drunkenly by the toilet contemplating your decision to rip up the red paper and flush it. Though, nothing ever came of either idea. Instead, you faceplanted onto your bed and allowed the intoxicated dizziness to fade black. The next morning, you were faced with multiple texts from Jeonghan, missed phone calls, voice notes. But you didn’t listen or respond to anything.

Complicated. That was the word you kept hearing.

Absolutely not, you had thought that morning, you weren’t ready to speak with him, even if the temptation seemed like it could be promising. The air was still too bitter. And you couldn’t handle another argument.

On the second day after the outburst, you were seated at the receptionist desk in the salon, flicking through a magazine while you became increasingly mindless to the humming of the blow dryer and the potent fragrance of the hair products. When you glanced out the window, you nearly combusted, as both Joshua and Jeonghan were about to enter the salon together, hurrying in from the melted snow and winter’s final downpour. You hid in the breakroom until they left, forcing your co-worker to take your position at the desk. Joshua was apparently getting his hair trimmed while Jeonghan had asked about you at the reception.

“He’s gorgeous!” Your co-worker had immediately gushed to you in the breakroom. “Why are you avoiding someone like that?”

“It’s complicated.” You’d phrased it simply.

Dang it. You hated the fact you’d used that stupid word.

But, on the third day, most of your bitterness was gone.

After breakfast, you were back at the vanity mirror to prepare for work, and while you buffed some makeup to sit seamlessly on the skin with your puffy foundation brush, there was a knock at your door. This time, you didn’t bother peeping through the fisheye lens, because you knew exactly who it was – damn his persistence. Jeonghan’s brown hair had been slightly mused in the wind, and there was a glow as soft as a peach to each his cheeks. But that easygoing, relaxed smile was by far the most heart fluttering. He extended a coffee cup to you. When you reached out, Jeonghan suddenly pulled the coffee away with a tsking sound.

“You can have it only if—” he held up his finger, “you agree to let me in so I can explain myself. Yes, I’m bribing you. And yes, I’m an asshole from time to time. But five minutes at least. That’s all I need.”

For a moment, you wavered, only to mutter a resounding, “fine.”

Despite Jeonghan’s company, you still had work to get ready for, so the boy followed you into the bedroom. He took a seat on the edge of your mattress while you settled back into the vanity chair. Picking through your jar of makeup brushes, you plucked a round, oval-tipped one to apply your eyeshadow. Jeonghan was silent at first, watching you through the mirror as you hurried about the look. It wasn’t perfect, in fact it was a bit sloppy and rushed and there was already some fallout  sitting like a glittered dust on your cheeks, though Jeonghan was staring at you with such fondness, you wondered if the mirror was reflecting the same image. Of course, the Love Card was sitting on your desk too.

“Well,”  you spun around in the chair, pressing your lips together, “I’m waiting for you to explain, y’know. Like you said you would. Technically, you’ve lost a couple minutes, and I should really try to be at the salon early, but I’m still going to give you full time since—"

“I love you.”

“… What?”

“I love you,” Jeonghan repeated himself casually, a slow smile spilling from each corner of his mouth, “I’m in love with you, as deep as I could be, I think. Anyways, you want me to keep saying it? I love you.”

It felt like someone had taken a picture with the blinding glare of its flash, a picture you couldn’t be more unprepared for, the dots still dancing and fumbling across your vision. The moment was disorienting, but you experienced a very fulgurant warmth take shape inside you. It was comforting yet daunting, a sugar rush and a hangover, something so alive you knew you wanted it more than anything else in the world.

Yet, “you… are in love with me?” was all that you could express.

Jeonghan fiddled with the coffee cup in his hands. “You’re a funny girl, you know that? But I can say it a fifth time if you want.”

“N-No, I—I just, I wasn’t expecting—”

“Yeah, I can see that, “ he’d laughed, though it quickly fell into a sigh and suddenly Jeonghan’s temperament had shifted. “Look, I know that night wasn’t pretty. I know I ghosted you. I know I didn’t tell you about the stupid Galleria,” the boy glanced up, catching your eye, “but… I didn’t say anything because I was confused. I knew your Love Card only had one signature left, and just like that… you could be in my bed for the last time. If we’re really gonna get sentimental about it,”

Jeonghan chuckled, scratching his chin a bit shyly, “it could be my last time holding you, and kissing you… I just, I didn’t want it to be like that. But I didn’t know how to confront you about it, so I hid. And I stressed myself out, and I got so stupidly jealous and angry when I saw you with Joshua. That was my bad. I should’ve been upfront.”

Tucking your hands together anxiously in your lap, you nodded, beginning to understand the missing pieces.

“Thank you for saying that.” You murmured, tapping your feet in a nervous rhythm against the floor. “I… I was being unreasonable and jealous too,” you subsequently admitted, “I was assuming things about you and Baejin when I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what I was expecting anyways, that you act like she doesn’t exist? It was dumb, and I was adding pressure. I’m sorry too.” Wanting to lighten the tone, you smiled at him, “I guess we both have our flaws, huh?”

He returned the tender glance and held out the coffee cup.

“I guess we do.”

You grabbed it politely.

Turning around in the chair, you grabbed the bright red Love Card off the vanity, initialed until its last circle, “what should we do with this? I mean, we kind of messed up their rules, fooling around more than twelve times. And, well, I’m not gonna renew it.”

“Oh, let me see.” Jeonghan said.

As soon as you passed the card to him, he ripped it clean in half, crumpled each piece, balled them together in his hands and tossed the shreds into the trash can sat in the corner.

“Well, that was fucking easy,” he smiled, getting up from the mattress, “aren’t you late for work? Do you need a drive?”

You looked at your alarm clock.

“If you can get me there in the next ten minutes, that’d be great.”

Jeonghan headed to the front door while you hurriedly grabbed your coat from the closet and snatched your bag off the floor, resting the strap over your shoulder. With the coffee still in hand, you headed into the living area, looking around in one final swoop to make sure you had everything packed for the day. A sheet of sunlight spilt into the room from outside the window, pale, like the morning sky, yet filling every crevice of the cheap apartment with a dull shine. And for a very fleeting moment, you thought this place wasn’t so abhorrent. It had been your home, your stepping stone, a thumbprint which identified a period of hardship and growth. But, despite this bittersweet taste on your tongue, you couldn’t envision yourself staying.

“Come on,” Jeonghan pinched your hip, “at this rate I’ll get a speeding ticket trying to get you to work on time.”

Turning around, you stuck a kiss to the boy’s cheek, just catching the cool beginning of a smirk on that dazzling face of his as you interlaced your fingers and pulled him into the corridor.

No, you could not stay here.

Not when your future was with Jeonghan.

✧✎ a/n: yeah, so this was clearly A LOT longer than the original love café teehee. i remembered the plot vaguely therefore i refused to reread my first version weufhewif PLS IT MAKES ME CONVULSE SO BAD !! i just had to rewrite the plot and do it some actual justice! i hope this version is a lot better and that you rly enjoyed it! i wish yjh would give me money but i guess we can’t all live in a fantasy world!! thx for reading!!

[chicoriii]

Season 4, Episode 17 - Larme Ultime (Rocketear)

So this is a DjiWifi episode from which comes a screenshot I've seen over a month ago (I think). It's good they got it, before season 4 started I really wanted it to happen and to see a kiss between Nino and Alya in it (but that didn't happen and I don't get why, only the main pairing is allowed to kiss in this show or what?), but now I could not be excited about it anymore, because I'm sick of Alya and I'm not able to hide it. Yes, I'm biased, but I'm just a normal viewer and I have right to dislike her favouritism.

My the biggest thought after watching this is that it looks like since Optigami, Alya is not only a deuteragonist, like I said in my post about Sentibubbler, she's actually more like a co-protagonist now. That was an extremely Alya-centric episode (even more than Lie was was about Adrien, as it was mostly Ladybug who saved the world like almost always, also because Chat sacrificed himself again), while in Optigami and this one she has screentime comparable to Marinette. I'm still trying to avoid spoilers (so please, don't tell what's going to happen in the next episodes, I don't want to know), but I'm sure that either 15 or 16 is also highly about her, because we've seen the new Rena's suit in this episode and it looked like it wasn't the first episode with it. But really, I won't be surprised if Alya has lots of screentime in both episodes and all others to the end of the show as well. I don't think Adrien is ever going to get as much special treatment like Alya. :/ The creators have never been as nice to him.

Didn't the writes have enough ideas for another story arcs? And thanks to it they were able to save money, because then creators could just reuse old models of villains more than before. Have anyone noticed that S4 has even fewer number of completely new characters than previous seasons? The scientist seen at the start of the episode has detailed model, so she had to be akumatised in any of the previous unreleased episodes (or one of the next ones). And why she looks a lot like Alya, is she her relative? If yes, you know what that means? Another excuse to make an episode full of the fox wielder, because, you know, it’s not like she already got enough occasions to shine in S4. 

Speaking of Rena Rouge's new suit. What a waste, it would be great for a potential chameleon Miraculous, so it seems it won't be ever created for canon. So bad, I think it's one of the coolest animal, so a Miraculous based on it would be awesome. It could one from an African Miracle Box which should appear, since they are planning making an African special. The suit is good and all, but I still feel disappointed that it's not the superpower of a chameleon Miraculous. :(

Why is Nino acting over the top out of nowhere? I like film noir atmosphere, fedoras and especially jazz music full of saxophones (my favourite music genre and instrument), but it looks totally ridiculous when he's like that. I thought it's Marinette's speciality, and he beat her in that category. I'm not trying to say it's a a bad thing, it just feels weird seeing Nino like that. And since I love jazz, I would like to listen to that film noir-esque music more once I got 5.1 audio, since it was hardly heard in the episode. It didn't sound much interesting, but it's too early to judge it seriously.

Too bad they had written the main conflict in the episode using one of the biggest romantic cliche - misunderstanding in which one character see and\or hear something, but not the whole thing, so said character interprets it wrong. Motifs like that are rather annoying, so it's good something similar haven't happened in the Love Square's arc (yet at least). Though I have a big issue with how they write it this season and I'm going to make a post about it (is anyone interested?).

The akuma is one the ugliest and has one of the most laziest power ever. Really? He shoots using tear bullets and does nothing more? I know many people hate Bubbler's design, but no matter how silly it looks, it was much more creative than this.

And of course the whole thing with Alya remembering the whole conversation with Chat Noir was extremely far-fetched. The could think about something more believable, but I'm not surprised it happened, since I think this season is generally more lazy written than previous ones.

On the other hand, I'm surprised that Marinette is actually aware that Shadow Moth should not know that Alya is still Rena Rouge. It seems that the whole episode 15 (or 16) is about they trying to figure out what to do with that problem.  I won't be surprised if Alya would do it all by herself like it happened with protecting charms in Mr Pigeon 72, because it's completely normal that a random person who has never met Fu is better at decrypting the grimoire than someone who has been trained to be a guardian to some extend :/ Still I think they should not be sure that camouflage mode would solve the problem completely. From what I understand the new suit doesn’t make her completely invisible to others. Rena could be seen by anyone who takes a photo of her and then post in on the internet (it won't be believable that she's the only one crazy about superheroes in Paris). But at least they tried to do something and Marinette sees the danger to some extend. It’s something new.

It's not like Alya is careful, she's completely reckless (and they think she's a good reporter material? Don't make me laugh) and she still thinks more about her own fun in being the superheroine than safety of herself or the world. But of course, it's not gonna happen, because plot armor is very strong in this show. I really had a feeling that she acted like a little child in the first minutes of the episode. She's unable to see that her situation is not a joke. She should be all happy that Marinette still lets her to keep the fox Miraculous. She really lacks humility and I see it clearly since Optigami at least. Besides, Marinette ignores another red flags, that Alya is taking pictures of herself in the new suit no one is supposed to see and thinking about posting them on Ladyblog (was Bunnix right that Alya is able to reveal Miraculous secrets on her blog because of her overenthusiasm and lack of ability of seeing consequences of her actions?).

By the way, now I think, if Alya can't keep in secret that she's still Rena Rouge from Nino (which happens because it's needed for the plot), so how could she be all fine with keeping in secret other facts like that Ladybug gave her the fox permanently and she knows her identity (which isn't happening because the plot doesn't require it)? She still has to lie on Nino because of these secrets.

They are making Marinette a big hypocrite this season. Since she revealed herself to Alya, it's been shown that secret identities rule was bullshit from the start, but Marinette is still saying that heroes can't reveal their identities to anyone. What? What has she done before like not revealing herself to someone, so how she dares keep saying about how crucial is keeping secrets from everyone? Sorry writers, I can't take that rule seriously anymore since Alya knows and no one should. Because Marinette told Alya, she could tell it to other persons she trust as well. What's the difference between her best friend and the rest of the people in the world? Is Alya the only person she trusts? In fact, revealing herself to Sabine, for example, would be much better choice. She's actually wise and mature unlike Alya and her secrets would be much more safe with her mother.

I've seen Chat Blanc again on TV recently and I remembered one thing Ladybug told to Bunnix there: "The best-kept secrets are the ones you never share." (Google Translate says that the line is exactly the same in the French original). Some episodes later, she isn't thinking twice if she should tell all the guardian secrets to Alya. Okay, she revealed her identity because of being too emotional in that exact moment, but then when she calmed down, she should be able to think if telling all the Miraculous secrets is a good idea. The other hypocritical thing is telling Chloé "you can't be Queen Bee anymore, because Hawk Moth knows your identity" but still calling the other heroes whose identities have been exposed.

So I can't even blame Alya for telling Nino the truth if the guardian herself is not following her own rules. Not to mention, Marinette doesn't address wrong things Alya is doing at all, so no wonder she feels she could do anything, she won't get punished, no matter what. After all, it's not the first moment in which she does something her best friend forbid her.

And we can say the show has been confirmed that Nino is even worse at keeping secrets, especially in crisis situations, so why people wanted to see Adrien revealing himself to Nino? It's obvious that he would tell Adrien's secret to Alya and maybe some other people as well.

I thought that since S3 finale Adrien is supposed to know identities of every backup hero from seasons 2 and 3 and I was ready to be salty about that as well. But yes, actually after purification of Miracle Queen's akuma, brainwashed heroes didn't detransform. They were forgotten completely and we don't even know what happened with them exactly. I suppose Ladybug took their Miraculous when Chat Noir wasn't there anymore.

Adrien has every right to be angry at Ladybug, she treats him so badly, since Alya knows her own secrets and she doesn't even have the guts to admit that. But I'm going to say about my the biggest issue in the Chat Noir and Ladybug's situation in another post, I hope I would write before the next episode airs.

[marvelyningreen]

Andante

[Peter Maximoff x reader (X-Men: Apocalypse)

Summary: When an injury brings Peter’s superhuman speed to a screeching halt, you figure he could use some company and cheering up.

Warnings: mild language

Notes: could be interpreted as romantic or platonic, if that’s more your speed]

           You hurry in from the rain, pausing just long enough to shake off your umbrella on the doorstep before closing the door behind you. You take a moment to wipe your shoes on the mat in an attempt to keep them from squeaking in the tiled halls of the mansion.

           The floorplan of this rebuilt version is practically identical to the original. The design and decor are much the same, too. Still… You feel a bit like a stranger, or maybe the mansion itself does.

           With everything else that’d happened, you hadn’t really had a chance to process your own experience that day. One second, you were trimming the hedges by the mansion’s front steps. The next, you were a hundred yards away, surrounded by the students and staff, and the mansion was exploding, and suddenly there in your midst was your childhood best friend – Peter Maximoff, all grown up.

           It’s funny how someone you knew for such a short time could’ve made such an impact on you. Really, you and Peter only knew each other for two years. It baffled the teachers how a quiet goody-two-shoes like you could be thick as thieves with resident mischief-maker Peter Maximoff, but you were practically inseparable. Perhaps it was partly due to some truth in the old saying about opposites attracting. But there was more to it than that. You and Peter shared a secret.

           Your sporadic telekinesis had nothing on Peter’s incredible speed, but he never seemed to mind. You were both just so happy to finally have someone who understood, who you didn’t have to hide from. Those two years were some of the best of your life.

           And years passed, and you grew up. You kept your abilities hidden, but you kept the memory of Peter with you. You’d think of him often, hoping that he was doing well, wherever he was. You never expected to see him again.

           Lost in thought, Hank hurries around a corner and nearly bowls you over. You both apologize to each other, laughing, and continue on your respective ways.

           It feels strange being back here after… Well, after everything. Everyone is doing their best to settle back into a routine, but it isn’t quite working yet. Maybe it won’t ever feel the same.

           The students either converse too loudly or are oddly subdued, with very little in between. Scott Summers’ group of close friends is never far from his side, and the faculty likewise seem to hover around the professor. It’s difficult not to dwell on how bad things had gotten, and how much worse everything could’ve been.

           And if it’s difficult for you, you can only imagine how it must be for the person you’re here to see. You pause to knock politely at his door, and the voice that answers sounds oddly terse.

           “You can come in.”

           You slip into the room to find Peter scowling morosely out the window. He’s still laid up in bed, his broken leg in a cast and propped up on a pillow. He’s got a wicked case of bedhead, and there are dark rings under his eyes. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so tired.

           There’s an odd sound you can’t quite place – like the low hum of a fan or the purring of a cat – and you realize that it’s just Peter drumming his fingers restlessly on his nightstand at impossible speeds. He turns his head, and when he sees that it’s you walking through the door, his expression shifts into one of relief.

           “Oh, thank God,” he says, “I thought it was somebody coming to make sure I’m still “resting.” C’mere! Have a seat!”

           You grab a nearby chair and drag it closer to his bedside. You hate to see Peter cooped up and frustrated like this, but it’s good to see him, period. You don’t like to think about what could’ve happened to him in Cairo.

           When you look back up at Peter, his hair is smoothed down neatly. You snort involuntarily. If he's feeling well enough to be vain, it must be a good sign.

           “How are you holding up?” you ask.

           Peter slumps against his stack of pillows and groans dramatically, letting his head fall back.

           “I’m bored out of my mind. Do you know that they’re not letting me walk for a week? A whole week! Something about a risk of my leg not healing right if I move too fast on it. I said I’d walk like a normal person, but they apparently don’t trust me. Can you believe that? Don’t answer that. So I asked them just to drug me, knock me out for the rest of the week so I can get it over with, but they won’t do that either. This blows.”

           It’s hard not to smile, but it’s just so good to hear his voice. And, damn, people say you talk too fast. You’d forgotten that Peter was the true motor-mouth. Maybe he’s where you picked it up from. Though he still looks annoyed, Peter seems a little more relaxed after all that. Apparently he needed someone to vent to.

           He rolls his head to one side to look at you, and his brows furrow. “Hey, are you okay? You look tired.”

           “I look tired?” you say, “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

           “I haven’t, actually, because the mirror’s all the way over there, and I’m stuck in bed. You wouldn’t guess that having to sit alone with your own thoughts would wear you out, but apparently it does.”

           You’d had a feeling that the broken leg isn’t all that’s weighing on his mind. There’s still the whole Magneto business.

           You almost ask him about it, but you think better of it. Peter’s got a lot to mull over on that front. If he wants to talk about it, you’ll be there to listen, but you don’t want to bring it up when he doesn’t have any way to exit the conversation if he needed to. You decide to change the topic slightly.

           “Listen,” you say, “I never got a chance to thank you. You saved my life. You saved so many people. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t turned up at the mansion when you did.”

           Peter ducks his head a bit as he smiles, probably pleased to get a little recognition. There hadn’t been much time for gratitude in the moment. There hadn’t been much time for anything, really. And there certainly hadn’t been time to reconnect.

          You’d chased after Scott and his friends into the wreckage, trying to make sure none of them got hurt, and then things went from bad to worse. Suddenly, you found yourself tagging along with these immensely powerful teenagers on a fly-by-night rescue mission. It’s a good thing you did, too. Who else was gonna fly that getaway plane?

           Your own mutant abilities had never been particularly strong, not in a combat sense. You’d learned to be a pilot in an effort to make yourself useful. You just hadn’t expected it to pay off in a situation like that.

           “What can I say? Right time, right place… Right speed.” Peter’s grin turns rueful as he glances down at his busted leg. “I mean, by all rights, I should be thanking you, too.”

           You’d been trying not to dwell on that whole experience. It makes you feel a little sick to remember seeing that familiar silver streak darting around while Apocalypse was tossed in the air like a ragdoll, and then feeling the hope choked out of you as you heard Peter scream in pain.

           You don’t know how you managed to scramble down out of that second story ruin after Hank and Scott without hurting yourself any worse, but you did. You tried to shake it from your mind – the feeling of shrapnel and energy battering the telekinetic field you’d struggled to maintain around Peter and Mystique.

           You clear your throat, as though that’ll somehow clear out the memory as well. “Yeah… I guess sometimes you don’t know what you’re capable of until it’s literally do-or-die.”

           “I don’t just mean Cairo.” Peter shakes his head. “Well, that, too. But I don’t just mean that. I mean when we were kids. You always had my back.”

           Just before middle school, Peter’s family had moved away. You weren’t quite sure why, but it seemed like something had happened and Peter wouldn’t talk about it. He spent his entire last week in town with you, and on the very last day he hugged you tightly and promised that he’d come back and visit if he could.

           You never heard from him again.

           It was only years later that you’d put the pieces together – the Maximoffs’ sudden move, the well-dressed men turning up at the school and asking strange questions. Peter must’ve gotten caught using his powers, and his mother packed up the whole family and fled to protect him.

          “For weeks, months after we moved away, Mom was so scared. She wouldn’t let me out of the house. She thought that, any second, somebody was gonna show up and… I dunno, take me away, I guess. But I wasn’t worried. I was a cocky little shit, y’know?”

           You snort. “‘Was?’ Pretty sure that part of your personality hasn’t changed.”

           Peter laughs, but it fades quickly.

           “I heard that people came to our old school looking for me. And, hey, they never found me and Mom, so I figured you must’ve covered for me.”

           If there was one thing you were grateful to your younger self for, it was your instinctive distrust of these suspicious strangers.

           “I didn’t tell them anything,” you say, and Peter nods.

           “I knew you wouldn’t. But this one day, something hit me. What if they found out that you were a mutant, too?” Peter shakes his head, biting his lip. “I was terrified. I thought they were gonna find you, and… and I don’t know what I thought they’d do to you.”

           You feel cold all of a sudden. That thought hadn’t occurred to you. You’d been so focused on trying to keep Peter safe that you never once considered that you might be in danger, yourself. All those news articles about what Bolivar Trask had been up to ten years ago come flooding into your mind. You brush them aside and focus on what Peter’s saying now.

           “I wanted to run back there, make sure you were alright; maybe – I don’t know – take you with me and run away so we’d both be safe. I actually bought one of those AM radios, if you can believe it. Every night, I’d use the skip to listen to the news back there. I never heard anything about you, so I had to make myself believe it meant that you were okay. Otherwise I would’ve gone crazy, y’know?”

           He laughs again, but it sounds a little shaky.

           “Yeah, I know,” you say quietly. The air in the room feels sorta heavy now. Damn it, you’d come here to cheer Peter up, and it’s about time you get to it. You change topics with all the grace of a sledgehammer. “Speaking of none of this, I brought you something.”

           Peter immediately perks up. You rummage in your backpack and pull out a box of Nutty Buddy bars.

           “I remember these where your favorite when we were kids. I didn’t know if you still liked them, so I brought some Star Crunch, too. But you don’t have to-”

           Peter seems to blur for a moment, and suddenly both boxes are torn open and several wrappers are arcing their way into the trash can. Peter lets out a satisfied sigh. You might’ve remembered his favorites, but you’d forgotten his habit of absolutely inhaling them.

           “Okay, I guess I shouldn’t have worried,” you say.

           “What else you got in that bag?” Peter asks. “It can’t all be snack cakes. Unless it is…?”

           He’s joking, but you can tell he wouldn’t be disappointed if the answer was yes. You heft your heavily-loaded backpack onto the edge of the bed.

           “I figured you’d be bored, so I brought some books over in case you… What?”

           Peter never had a great poker face. You can tell that he’s definitely trying to smile, but that expression is a pained grimace. He laughs ruefully.

           “I might not be able to walk, but my hands still work. And my eyes. Did you know I can read a whole bookshelf in two hours?”

           “Oh…”

           You hadn’t thought of that. You look down, crestfallen. Of course, if something can be done at speed, that’s how Peter will do it. So that rules out all the other usual time-killers – crosswords or jigsaw puzzles or craft projects.

           But you remember Peter enjoying some things that can’t be sped through – live music being the main one. You start to wonder about the logistics of sneaking Peter out to take him to a concert or a play or something, but that’d be difficult to pull off without the professor catching you. Hmm…

           Peter’s brow furrows for a second, and then his expression brightens.

           “Hey, why don’t you read them to me?”

           You blink in surprise. “What, me?”

           “Yeah, you. Who else?”

           At this prospect, you’re suddenly rethinking everything. For all Peter might call himself a loser, you’d always seen him as infinitely cooler than yourself.

           “I don’t know. These are some of my own books, and I don’t know if you’ll actually like any of them.” You can feel yourself blushing preemptively, certain he’ll judge your taste in literature. “Maybe if I run to the library instead-”

           “No, don’t go!” Peter interrupts. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there, and I’m sick of being alone. Come on, read me your nerd books. Please?”

           He turns those big, pretty, puppy-dog eyes on you, and it’d be almost impossible to say no, even if you wanted to. Which you don’t. You sigh, smiling at him.

           “Alright, you win,” you say, “But you have to at least pick which one.”

           His face brightens into a full thousand-watt grin. “Done!”

           Peter blurs once more as he shuffles through your selection of books. Then suddenly he’s still again, tilting his head as he studies a stout little paperback.

           “Hey, didn’t they make a movie out of this?”

           He tosses it to you and settles back against the pillows, watching you expectantly. You pull up your legs to sit cross-legged on the chair and take a deep breath. Here goes.

           “‘Carl Conrad Coreander – Old Books.’ This inscription could be seen on the glass door of a small shop…”

           You read on, interrupted only by the odd quip or question from Peter. You hardly mind his commentary. You’re just happy that the story seems to be entertaining him. He’s a far cry from the agitated ball of nerves he’d been when you walked in.

           You glance over at the clock and see that two hours have gone by. You wonder if Peter would mind you taking a quick intermission to give your voice a break. But as you turn to ask him, you fall silent.

           Peter’s head is lolled back on the pillows, his eyes closed, his lips parted slightly. His chest rises and falls with deep, even breaths – sound asleep.

           You smile fondly at him. Poor guy. He really must’ve been exhausted.

Telekinetically, you switch off the lamp. The atmosphere in the room softens to the grey light filtering in from the rainy day outside. There. That’s more conducive to sleeping.

           You make note of the page you’d left off on and close the book, picking up your copy of Howl’s Moving Castle instead. Moving as carefully and quietly as you can to keep from waking Peter, you make your way over to a more comfortable spot on the window seat.

           You’d hate for Peter to think you’d run out on him after he fell asleep. You’ll stick around. And if he needs anything when he wakes up, you’ll be here. That’s what old friends are for.

[familyagrestefanblog]

Jackady: The importance of the father-son hug scene

One of my favorite Adrien-Gabriel moments to this day is still the ending scene of "Jackady" but I have seen more confusion for it than clarity in the Fandom so here is my analysis on it for why I love it so much. Because as the seasons go by this moment sustaines so much more significance that I simply HAVE to talk about it!

While it isn't the only Adrien-Gabriel scene that does it, I adore this scene because it shows perfectly that in the beginning their little, broken family could have made it out of this tragedy stronger and maybe even better but the reality that Adrien and Gabriel are also Chat Noir and Hawkmoth not only hinders those chances, it actively drives them further apart into destruction

Maybe one day I'll give all my thoughts to the entire scene and just go on a rambling post about it (because I love EVERYTHING about this scene) but for now, let's just focus on the main aspects that really sell it to me.

I give Gabriel alot of shit on my blog for obvious reasons. I refuse to generally give him the same positive and conciderate treatment as Adrien, Marinette and the other kid characters because unlike them HE is an adult, a father and the villain of the show. The adult and villain part I'm not taking too personal because those are "just" the traditional aspects of his character type. But what is incredibly unique about him is the fact that even if he is this evil villain type he still gets to be the realistic type of abusive and (truly) bad father with sympathetic moments like this:

This moment of shock and fear is not something you would normally see in a family cartoon from an evil parental figure the child longs to bond with without setting the parent up for redemption. But as we now know by s3, Gabriel is only getting increasingly worse and more abusive and Adrien is starting to let go of his father to move on without him and defying his will. It's quite clear now that their future will not be anywhere near good, "Chat Blanc" showed us what's to come.

And this is exactly why I love this scene. Because, yes, this family will go up in flames and never truly reconcile ever again (Gabriel went WAY too far for that in the way he abuses/will abuse Adrien) but the show doesn't shy away from showing us the transitional phase in between which really not alot of media dares to. Normally when they stay enemies or their situation doesn't end in an at least somewhat forgiving way this transition is simply mostly skipped to not having to let the bad parent have realistic and sympathetic moments in their downfall into madness/villainy (especially with their victim).

Miraculous does and it's beautifully tragic because you can just... SEE the situation unfold and understand where the eventual fate of the family comes from.

The pure misunderstanding between these two in this scene, the way they just talk RIGHT PAST each other because the other one can not understand the problem cuz they don't know the secret identity of the other one is... brutal!

This moment here could have worked for them. It could have been a genuine step forward in their relationship and saved their family but it got completely CRUSHED by their secret identities as Chat Noir and Hawkmoth.

Let me show you what I mean:

THIS is a moment I AM giving Gabriel genuine credit for, because you can turn it any way you want it won't change the fact that, for his situation, THIS was the right question to ask his son. But at the same time it's just such a... horrible thing to say here oh my GOD.

And that's the ugly, UGLY beauty here.

If Gabriel weren't Hawkmoth (if someone else were Hawkmoth so the situation would still have happened) he would not have reacted to the fucking ring. He would have thought nothing of it and had remained focused on Adrien, because that was his original intention (problematically executed but that's beside the point now).

After Gabriel got himself in life threatening danger because he didn't listen to Adriens concerns, he went to him to hug him as apology. THIS is Gabriels way of apologizing and trying to make up for his faults. He's obviously not good at verbalizing his feelings properly and at normal interpersonal dynamics in general. So what he does is trying to make his feelings known in a... "material/physical" way. This does not only show through Gabriel just buying the best things for Adrien without ever being there for him, it also shows in the way he physically interacts with his loved ones when he genuinely wants to show his love. Because for how seriously antisocial and unreachable as he normally is, he also gets... quite touchy.

The shoulder touch thing Adrien does as well to show his affection for someone, him hugging Adrien both times he got a wake up call and literally everything thats happening between him and Natalie at this point lol.

Him hugging Adrien here is just as much of a big deal as Adriens expressions make it seem to be

But the father-son moment couldn't last because the villain-hero alter egos interfered. Gabriel being Hawkmoth rightfully stopped the moment here, because reacting to even the slightest chance of your own child being the hero you try to destroy is undoubtedly the right way to handle this (even if the way he did it wasn’t ideal, that's not something I would expect from any character in that situation), but nevertheless it still utterly crushed the moment.

Cuz just because it is the right thing for HAWKMOTH to ask his son Adrien who he fears COULD be Chat Noir, doesn't it mean that it is anywhere close to okay for Adrien/Chat Noir to hear this very question in that moment from his father who he thinks as a normal civilian in this.

And Adriens expression once again makes this perfectly clear

(You know the offense just reached an other dimension when the kid, who is already well aware and used to their fathers emotionally painful ways, makes a face like THAT)

Cause here is the thing. We all know by now that Adrien has some serious self esteem issues and that while he tries to over play it (especially as Chat) he just doesn't hold himself in high regards or even likes himself very much. Hence why he goes all out on the acting as Chat Noir and doesn't defend himself much.

But just because he doesn't like himself that much doesn't it mean he still doesn't want that very validation and appreciation from his father. Just like all of us and everyone on earth, Adrien wants to be loved for himself, even if he doesn't/can't do it himself. Thats normal and is something that can deeply damage you when you don't get it from your own parent/s.

So tell me, do you see why Adrien was so CRUSHED when in probably the first time since his mother's disappearance Gabriel gave him the genuine and all present love he wanted for so long, just for Gabriel to cut their moment short and FOCUSE ON THE RING?

The one thing on Adrien that makes him become "someone else" so he can escape from having to be himself for a bit.

And for Adrien it now seems like that in his own fathers eyes this ONE thing Gabriel shouldn't even know could be anything special about if he weren't Hawkmoth, is the ONLY thing worth noticing about his own son so it catches his eyes.

It tells Adrien right to the face that nothing Adrien was and did to make his father happy up to this point measured up with Gabriels expectations. All of Adriens efforts, his patience and his hopes of earning his fathers love and happiness if he only does well enough, literally in vain. It wasn't enough. It's wasn't enough for Gabriel to notice in comparison to the ring apperently.

From Adriens view you can interpret it two ways:

1. Since earlier Gabriel also took a closer look at Chat Noirs ring Adrien now thinks correctly that his father is seeing his new ring as a sign that he could be Chat Noir. This would mean that in Adriens eyes Gabriel would have cut their moment, an action of validation and love Adrien has longed, worked and patiently waited for so LONG, short and basically forgot all about Adrien himself because there is a SLIGHT possibility that Adriens ring means he COULD be Chat Noir. His own father literally choosing his secret identity over his civilian one as Adrien, the son Gabriel had for 14 years, is beyond crushing. And while it seems strange for Adrien to take offense in this because, well, he IS Chat Noir so what the big deal? The big deal here is, again, that as Chat Adrien is literally trying NOT to be himself. He uses the opportunity of being an anonymous hero to escape from having to be Adrien Agreste in every way he can. Gabriel throwing aside the son who is literally standing in front of him and who did his darn best to be there for him in his own time of grieving his mother to basically only focus on Chat Noir (a person Gabriel in the end of the day shouldn't and doesn't know) possibly being his son, is such a fucked up scenario to throw onto Adriens already low self esteem what the actual fuck.

Or 2. That Adrien simply takes his father choosing to focus on his "simple" new ring out of all things as a clear "I see nothing else worth noticing in you, so to keep this conversation up I have to grasp at straws so I guess I'll be taking about your new ring".

No matter how one chooses to interpret the moment, it's equally as much of a "fuck you" either way. I know Gabriel could have said worse here, but honestly, the list isn't that long.

So when after this Adrien reacts like this:

It should really not come by any surprise. Although, no, it is kind of surprising. Surprising that Adrien didn't react alot worse than this. What Gabriel just threw at him is like the verbal equivalent of a loved one reaching out for you with a hand so they can caress your cheek but the moment you lean in they follow it up with a punch to the face.

It shows just how well Adrien has his emotions under control and is able to stay level headed under such great offense that THIS is the level of irrationality and anger he expresses after basically being out right disregarded by his own father (which should be of no surprise either, as Chat Noir Adrien has to put up with a whole lot of disrespect as well and there he for literally 95% of the time has to shrug it off as well).

But no matter how bad Gabriels line here was, it has nothing and I mean NOTHING on the awful way Gabriel then decides to react to Adriens appropriate but still very mild response.

Because THIS is the moment that sets up Gabriels betrayal and downfall as both a person and especially as a father. Up to this point Gabriel was a horrible person as well, no question. The entirety of s1 he already worked as Hawkmoth, manipulating people, putting them in great danger and planning the demise of two teenagers with sadistic glee. But still one has to acknowledge the difference in these two situations.

In one Gabriel is hiding in a secret lair, manipulating people he thinks beneath him to do the dirty work for him and fight two anonymous heros he just wants to get rid of to reach his goal. Gabriel is taking so much pleasure out of terrorizing Paris and it's people because he legitimately doesn't give a single fuck about them or holds any kind of personal connection to them either. He never goes outside and is very antisocial so these people and their city mean nothing to him because they ARE nothing to him. His (self chosen) isolation and lifestyle pretty much disconnected Gabriel from real life and a normal way of expressing and receiving human emotions. So when there are no emotional stakes for him personally, he sees no reason to not satisfy his villainous desires as Hawkmoth.

So as odd as it may seem to say, him terrorizing Paris prior to this is not the point of crossing the line for his character. For that it's simply to impersonal.

No, the point of crossing the line happens here with Adrien. With Gabriels character things will always come back to Adrien at its core. Adrien (not Emilie, Natalie or anyone else) is the person Gabriel temporarily truly gave up being Hawkmoth for and Adrien is the one person Gabriel has his most human moments with. Not even in his bonding moments with Natalie does he show the same deep and true (misguided) love and affection as he gets to with Adrien in those rare moments (its close no doubt but something about Gabenath is not as deep and true as this father-son pair and I can't imagine it ever will).

This marks the point of no return for Gabriel because it's the first time he chose to deliberately abandon Adrien in the crossfire and decides to be the villain towards him instead of staying there to talk things out with him. It's the first time Adrien truly had Hawkmoth as his father. And Hawkmoth is Chat Noirs ememy so Gabriel fell into that role without Adrien knowing why.

And there is a solid reason for that.

One of the best things of this show is that no matter how horrible things get between these two, things are always much more complicated than a simple "evil father doesn't love his good son" situation. Gabriel calls Adrien "the image of perfection" in this very episode, that's sure as hell not hate or dislike in any way. That's love, that's adoration. This man ADORES his son. And this is were the deep rooted problem lies.

Gabriel loves and adores his SON. The ideal and perfectly perfect son Adrien could become when Gabriel is done forming him into it by suffocating any "imperfections" with an iron fist. It's just that these "imperfections" are always the characteristics that make Adrien ADRIEN. Gabriel may truly love his son but I'm not even sure if Gabriel even so much as LIKES Adrien himself.

And this is perfectly showcased by Gabriel turning away from Adrien in this very scene here.

Because even though Gabriel literally disrespected, shut down and belittled his son for the entire episode he still came to see and hug his Adrien afterwards because he loves him. But HIS Adrien, the perfectly perfect Adrien Gabriel wants him to be, wasn't the Adrien he met up with in his sons room. Instead he got an Adrien with a ring on his hand that could be Chat Noirs, making him possibly one of the two enemies he's trying to destroy.

Adding salt to the "wound" Adrien even backtalks him in a way that undoubtedly reminded him of Chat as well since Gabriel pointed out Chats temper in this very episode.

So Gabriel was very directly confronted with the possibility that Adrien could INDEED be Chat Noir and that naturally comes with the implications that Adrien deliberately disobeyed Gabriels orders accepting that ring, sabotaging Gabriel reaching his goal and in general doing everything his father DOESN'T want him to do BY CHOICE.

And here Gabriel made the decision that marks the point of no return, setting up the devastatingly horrible way this man is treating and will treat his son in the future.

Because this is the moment Gabriel SHOULD have chosen Adrien over his mission. The sheer possibility, no scratch that, even the SLIGHTEST TRACE of a possibility of Adrien being Chat Noir should have immediately made Gabriel take action to save and protect him. Because it's not like Chat hasn't been constantly in dangerous, life threatening or even situations that ended up in DEATH. If Gabriel would truly love ADRIEN his quest would have ended right here, stopping the upcoming horror this family will face before it could have really begun (hence why this was shown to us in an episode of s1, the season where Hawkmoths identity was still unknown. If Gabriel had stopped here not even WE would have known, leaving Gabriels name untainted of Hawkmoths crimes as the Agreste family finally moves on and Hawkmoth dissappeares as suddenly as he appeared.)

because Adrien and his health and life should not be a price Gabriel is willing to risk paying for his goal.

But Gabriel didn't do that.

Because instead of Adrien Gabriel chose the potential perfectly perfect son he wants and turned his back on the one standing right in front of him. Cuz remember what Gabriels goal IS. He wants to change the past, so non of this ever happened in the first place.

Meaning Gabriel turning his back on our present Adrien doesn't mean that Gabriel outright hates Adrien now by the next second cuz he dared to disobey his orders like that. But it means that Gabriel is choosing to separate these two Adriens in his mind, making endangering, hurting and working against THIS Adrien more of a collateral damage than actually hurting his own son. THAT son, the one Gabriel convinces himself he is fighting for, is waiting for him in the past alongside Emilie.

This separation was probably always there since Gabriel started trying to change the past hence why he justifies Adriens unhappiness and the way he abandones him as necessary sacrifices.

But the real separation started HERE, this marks the first time Gabriel just left Adrien behind in a position of complete and deliberate endangerment, knowing that the possibility of Adrien being Chat is still there but choosing to say: "if he indeed is, then that's an obstacle I will have to overcome."

This separation has been developing slowly but steadily through s2 and 3 right to "Chat Blanc" which tells us the future. Me elaborating on this "separation development" though became longer than I want to put in this post, therefore I will go into more depth about it another time.

So let me continue with this:

Adrien is like... Genuinely not even angry. More deeply sad.

He was appropriately and truly hurt when Gabriel only started talking about the ring but once Gabriel turns around and walks away? He looks after his father but more in a way as if he is waiting to see if Gabriel would actually take so much offense in him backtalking him to legitimately LEAVE like this. And Gabriel does.

Adriens intentions wasnt to make his father leave, When he talked back at him it was more of a hurt call out for Gabriel to say more, SOMETHING ELSE, but not to LEAVE!

Adrien then does something very common for people in a fight who wait for the leaving person to turn around again but have to realize that they hope in vain and the other person actually is done with this moment.

His face and body relaxes, he turns completely to the door and seems to... take it in.

Especially in the way Adrien does it here its like he is processing and accepting that what he thought of his father was wrong. Adrien thought Gabriel cared enough for him that he would want to stay even if he backtalks him for example. Adrien expected a conversation here but now had to realize that his father isn't gonna put up with him at all or their differences in an upfront way if Adrien isn't "behaving right". Gabriel will just cut the moment short and deflect whatever conversation with him he doesn't like.

All in all what Adrien took away from this moment with his father is even if Gabriel may care for him (enough to come and hug him as an apology) this care and affection is tightly bound to the way Adrien himself then reacts. If he reacts in a way Gabriel doesn't like he will very quickly deem Adrien undeserving of his affection and take it (and his entire presence) away again.

The way Adrien looks then at his ring also makes me think that he definitely blames himself for how this moment ended. That he "shouldn't have overreacted" and taken such personal offense by his fathers attempt to reconnect with him even if Gabriel hit one hell of a sore point.

This is of course BS. Even if Adrien wasn't Chat Noir the way Gabriel just straight up deflected the conversation to the ring right after the hug, where one normally starts to explain oneself and truly TALK, would have been seriously hurtful even under non-miraculous circumstances.

But it shows how Adrien by instinct immediately starts to invalidate his own feelings to look for the faults in himself. A self-hurtful coping mechanism that unfortunately only gets deepened as the dynamic between these two continues on. 

And lastly it also marks the first time that the ring is truly associated with something bad. Normally (especially so early in the show) the ring stands in association with Adriens freedom and spending more time with people outside, him getting to let loose a little and how he can spend time with the girl he loves. The ring began to loose these positive associations more and more from s2 onward but the first time was here.

It's the object which ruined the moment that could have ended this tragedy before it truly began in both of their eyes and in the viewers. Sure Gabriel being Hawkmoth is the true cause of it and nothing will ever change that but it's Adriens ring, not Gabriels brooch, that sets their separation further in motion. Further as Gabriel initially intended to.

It's the factor Gabriel overlooks Adrien himself for, which is truly brought home by the end scene of "Gorizilla" which serves as a mirror to this one here.

Whereas in "Jackady" Gabriel lost sight of the son right in front of him because of the ring and what its implies, in "Gorizilla" Gabriel thinks he finally received the evidence that Adrien isn't his enemy. So for the first time Gabriel completely disregards the ring, Chat Noir out of his mind, sees ADRIEN for himself and genuinely smiles at him. He can and does make a TRUE attempt at reconnecting!

Which is of course exactly what Adrien wanted for so long, what he hoped Gabriel would do if hes just patient enough with his father. He accepts Gabriels genuine attempt gladly, reassuring his father that he and his efforts are noticed, appreciated and wanted even after everything that happened so they can hopefully go on to a better future.

This is what would have saved this family back in "Jackady" if only Gabriel had chosen the right priority. But as I said before, this moment here happens in s2 after Gabriel crossed the line in Jackady, so this positiv moment can not save them anymore. Both Gabriel and Adrien are already too far in and influenced by their alter egos and the miraculous. So the brief reconnection couldn't last and everything continues to only further fall apart ever since.

And it all began with this beautiful, heartbreaking and tragic moment in "Jackady" these two will never ever be able to truly come back from again.

[samstwilightzone]

Experimental

Hello Tumblr, this is my first day on here, so here I am making a post. This is a jjba oc x cc one shot. You can ignore it if you don’t like it.

This is actually a one-shot I wrote a while back, like, last year kind of while ago. All I did was tweak it a small bit. Also, I made it into a two-parter. Here, Sora and Jotaro have a more of a 'romance in the making' dynamic with what I originally interpreted their relationship to be like before they full-on start to date each other. They are still gonna kiss though. It's not specified where they are or what point in the story this one-shot is based in, it's just a desert.

It was one cold night in the desert, Noman's land that is full of nothing but sand and an occasional rock or those strangely placed thick dead branches that seem out of place there. Then again, desertification is a thing...

But, the point is, it's cold, go figure. There are absolutely no clouds out during the day all the heat from before just escaped out of the atmosphere, leaving the temperatures to drop.

Sora, however, wasn't cold as much as the rest would be. Being born with a stand that makes her into a walking radiator of cold air does have some benefits, one of them being that she can't feel it. Though it did cause her to have her sleeping bag moved away from the fire and the group a bit more than anyone else.

She sighed rubbing her cold finger around in the sand, cold enough to actually condense the vapour in the air and freeze bits of sand together as she did so. It was one of those nights, everyone else seemed to be asleep, meanwhile, she wasn't able to fall asleep from the pain inflicted upon her from the previous enemy stand user encounter.

How dumb she was, not being careful enough to go unharmed. Confidence does nothing for you if you're unprepared and frail, going into a dangerous situation completely blind. Sure, it's quite a few dark bruises and several more cuts that landed on her arms and legs, but she had no right to complain. Everyone else got off far worse.

All she could do right now is wait for sleep to come for her...

"To hell with it." Nevermind. A mumble managed its way out of her mouth as she sat up in her sleeping bag, might as well just slip out of it while she was at it. Having completely abandoned the idea of getting a blink of sleep that night.

Looking over at the group seeing them all asleep, for the most part at least. Of course, being the protagonist, Jotaro wasn't there. Classic. It was easy to spot him too, just search for a string of cigarette smoke.

Sora felt herself smirk. Standing up straight she cracked her spine before following the line of sight where she could clearly see the brooding teenager sitting on a rock, smoking. How cliche was that?

With her hands behind her back, she made her presence known in her usual, joking tone "Out to get lung cancer late at night, huh Jotaro?" she teased, of course, she repeatedly told him how bad smoking was and being himself he didn't listen.

The 'man' himself tsk-ed at her remark "What a surprise to see you awake, Snowflake." he shot back at her, in a harsh sarcastic kind of way. Not even bother to turn his head to look at her. "How bothersome..."-to be stuck in a conversation with Sora, most likely.

"Well, I'm unable to fall asleep as if this moment, so I decided to be a parasite and leech off of a conversation with an unsuspecting victim." Sora merely huffed as she just stood beside him. Not facing him just yet, or even taking glances at his handsomely chiselled face." What's your excuse for being awake?"

"Just didn't feel like it," Jotaro answered, in one of those boring tones, accompanied by a shrug of his shoulders.

This caused Sora to snort "For someone so monotone all the time, you suck at lying."

"The hell did you just say-" he began, only for Sora to cut him off "I called you a liar, Jotaro. Both you and I know that's a bunch-a rubbish." she hissed, narrowing her eyes down to look at him. He was always so stubborn. "Telling the truth and being honest wouldn't kill you, you know. Are you thick or do you just refuse to listen?"

"You are one nosy bitch, Snowflake." Of course, he'd hurl one of those at her instead of answering the question. Not only was he stubborn, but he always seemed so defensive as well.

Before Sora could even think about shanking the disrespect out of him, she ended up deeply inhaling as she rubbed her temples. Somebody didn't drink their 'respect-women-juice' it seems. "I suppose it's a flaw of mine, I just... I do pretty much stick my nose into other people's businesses, huh? Understandably so, it annoys you." her mood shifted so quickly, it was like a switch that was forcibly flipped to return the calm.

She always did this, right before it seemed like she was going to explode, she calmed herself. "Don't get me wrong, I'm also confused why I even care about you. You're a prick, Jotaro."

It never impressed or astounded Jotaro when he saw Sora like this, it was just her way of being herself in her way, a way she tries to be perceived as. But God, she was very annoying and clingy sometimes, almost as much as a clique of girls that would follow him around all the time.

Yet, she somehow made herself seem more tolerable, somehow landing on neutral ground with him "Yare yare daze..." he muttered as he took a drag of his cigarette. Well, if you can't beat them, invite them to have a smoke break with you. "Whatever, you can sit down if that will make you less annoying," Jotaro grumbled, scooting over on the rock.

Sora suppressed ... Some kind of a reaction, before sitting down on the freed up space on the rock. She crossed her legs "Thanks... I know I might be annoying sometimes and unbearable, and believe me. Even I know." she remarked with a light huff "Though, that's just me trying to act tough and... I just want to be your friend, you know."

Okay, now that caught him off guard, that was brutally honest, he was already aware of her whole act of trying to be tough but... He didn't even have the slightest idea that she would. Have wanted to be his friend. At all. He inhaled more from the cigarette before turning his head away to exhale the smoke. "You don't say..." he replied, acting unsurprised by her statement. "And that's why you feel that you need to impress me all the time?"

"I... I just thought that you wouldn't find me as interesting if I was just another girl. I wanted to seem tough and cool." Again with the honesty, it was such brutality and he didn't even know where it was coming from so suddenly. Was she seriously opening up to him just now? It didn't make sense. "It's dumb, huh?"

Jotaro nodded in agreement, biting down onto the cigarette fag before it could fall out of his mouth "Yes, yes it is. It's very fucking dumb if you ask me" he only agreed with her. "You really shouldn't pretend, sure you're mostly annoying as hell with a few exceptions, you shouldn't try impressing me."

Sora gave him one of those starry-eyed looks "Because I should just be myself and you'd be my friend anyway, no matter what-" just like she cut him off beforehand, he paid back by stopping her rumbling, by placing a finger onto her lips that just seemed to work so well, it caused her to stop and seemingly just melt.

He had a feeling like he will, she was still a girl after all (and what girl could resist the Joestar charm?). The thing he noticed right off the bat, her lips were incredibly cold. This was the first time he actually even got to feel a part g her that wasn't clothed.

He cleared his throat as he pulled his hand away, at least it made her stop and pay more attention. "No, no... That's cheesy as hell. You should just stop trying so hard, that's what's even more annoying than when you are being yourself. You are more bearable when you don't pretend, simple as that." he mumbled as he turned his head away, as well as lowered his to cover his eyes. A habit he had when he was either irritated or angry. He would never admit it, but he did prefer Sora when she just... Didn't try so hard.

Sora's cheeks flushed in embarrassment, for seemingly the first time ever her ale skin gained some kind of colour, as it was cursed never to absorb the Sun's rays, ever. "Ah... I see. Yeah, I should have known that from the start. Maybe then I wouldn't have come off to look like some fool, hah." she remarked jokingly, running a hand through her hair. It was all from the first impression she got from him, simply assuming that being a tough girl will make her seem more impressive and 'quirky'.

Apparently, trying to appear quirky just appears as another level of annoying, who knew.

"Being stupid seems to be a part of your overall personality," Jotaro replied, a smirk stretching on his face, and it earned him a slap on the shoulder.

"You limp dick." she shot back at him, however, she just couldn't suppress a giggle that escaped her. Sora didn't know what it was, but his smiles were so gorgeous and got her feeling giddy, as well as the fact that he almost never messes with her like this.

The two just... Smiled at one another, so relaxed and genuine. Sora could feel butterflies rising up in her stomach as a result.

"Do you want to try it out?" Jotaro asked out of the blue, pulling his cigarette out of his mouth and offering it to the brunette next to him. Might as well get her to test out the poison herself.

Sora rise en eyebrow "Eh?" she was confused until presented with the cigarette "Oh, I see... My mom warned me about boys like you." she joked before plucking the cigarette out of his much larger hands with her thumb and index finger. Her fingers and overall hand shape was just more slim and small compared to his. Damn those Joestar genes. He was incredibly hot too...

As much as Jotaro tried he couldn't be prepared for the cold he felt coming off of Sora when her fingertips caused up against his. She was like a popsicle, cold but without a fruity flavour. He watched her intently as she brought his cigarette up to her lips and bit into the fag of it. As her lips came around it she ducked out a puff of smoke.

Hol' up- can this be considered an indirect kiss? Is this even legal? Because it sure as hell didn't feel like it.

As she brought the cigarette away from her lips she exhaled a long puff of smoke. A bit of her lipstick staining the butt of the cigarette. There was something incredibly sexy about her half linden eyes staring up into the smoke as it slipped by her lips. The way her neck craned and the sky was reflecting in her pupils.

The dark-haired teen just couldn't grasp it, what was it that made Sora so attractive at this very moment?

Before they knew it their eyes met, Jotaro's curious look was met by Sora's, who side-eyed him for a bit before turning her head fully to face him. It was almost as if she was in this dazed expression. They just stared at one another, no words being spoken as the two unknowingly just leaned in towards one another.

There wasn't time to think whether this was their hormones or some other unbeknown force, before they even knew it their lips collided with both of their eyes fluttering shut. The magnetising pull between them scooted them close together and allowed their lips to mould against one another like clay. The contrast was there, with his warm lips pushing against her cold ones.

There was an ever so faint taste of smoke coming off of each of them as they both breathed out through their noses. What caught Sora off guard was the groan that came from Jotaro, reverberating through the kiss as he actually took a hold of her by her wrist and around her hip. Pulling her closer to himself.

Sora couldn't resist but completely melt-up against him, while her mind panicked she simply just changed it all up to hormones being at play. I mean... Finding yourself in a spontaneous exchange of kisses isn't a normal occurrence you'd find yourself in. Especially if you're not even in a relationship with that person.

Could it be..? Could it be that Jotaro Kujo was sexually frustrated? Was he just using her as his outlet? Man...

The cancer stick was extinguished and long forgotten in the sand, having ended up slipping out of Sora's grasp during the heated exchange she was suddenly pulled into. Eventually though. The two did need to pull away to breathe, seemingly their first kiss took out way more than it should have originally. They stared into each other's eyes, taking breaths through their mouths. Seemingly both of them were too hesitant to take their hands off of one another...

Sora was the one to gather the courage and pull away, her face growing flustered over what just happened "O-oh, oh my... God, umm... Sorry, sorry about that. Maybe I shouldn't have... Done that." she nervously stammered out, in her attempt to scoot away she was stopped.

"Don't apologise Aoi, we both know you're not feeling sorry about anything. We both leaned in at the exact same time, dumbass." Jotaro stated. The dark-haired teen huffed, an actual smirk appearing on his face "Be ready to room with me the next chance we get to stay in a hotel. This is not over just yet."

"A-ah, ummm, okay then," Sora mumbled bashfully as she looked away from the burly teen, his grip on her let up and she was able to get away from him. A heavy blush adorning her usually, ever so, pale face. "I'll... I'll be going to sleep now. Goodnight Jotaro," she said before turning around and making her way back over to her sleeping bag.

"Okay... 'Night." the boy grunted out, much like her, he also looked away and even tilted his hat down. Clearly not wanting his expression to appear all too obvious. Internally. He was thinking 'why the hell did I just say that?!'.

Just as Sora got comfortable to be back in her sleeping bag, only then did she realise the severity of her situation. "Oh dear god what did I get myself into?" she mentally facepalmed, burying her face in her hands.

[shinidamachu]

I’m late on this but I have to throughly disagree about the recycling of the rouge Inuyasha gave to Kikyo being in bad taste to give to Moroha. If it were any other object I would agree that it’s tasteless at best to give the memento that was originally meant for your ex to your new family. But remember, that rouge isn’t just Inuyasha’s gift to Kikyo, it’s also the only remaining item he has from his mother. And with that in mind, I found it sweet that they passed it down to Moroha because that’s the only memento she has left linking her to her paternal grandma.

I understand your point of view and I think it's perfectly valid, but we're just gonna have to agree to disagree on this one.

I haven't forgotten that the memento in question was also the only remaining item he had from Izayoi, but he gave it to Kikyo. It's hers. We saw him gifting her the rouge, we saw her using it and, after the staged betrayal, we saw it being destroyed.

So it might have been the last keepsake from his mother, but Sunrise went out of its way to turn the object into a representation of Inuyasha and Kikyo's relationship. And I just can't shake this amount of symbolism off, especially because the fact that it originally belonged to his mother is what makes Inuyasha's gesture of gifting it it to Kikyo so meaningful in the first place.

In the same way you might have agreed with me if it was any other object, perhaps I'd agree with you if Kikyo was any other kind of ex. But she was a part of their love triangle and Kagome very often felt like second best to her. Even worse: Kagome was Kikyo's reincarnation and it was very important for her to be seeing as her own person rather than a replacement.

There's just too much history there. Granted, Kagome worked hard to surpass those insecurities, but they just didn't magically vanished after she learned how to deal with them. And I think knowing the rouge's origins and what it meant for Inuyasha and Kikyo might have brought some of those insecurities back to surface. It's only natural. And a part of a much bigger and needed conversation with Inuyasha regarding how she felt about it, something I'm assuming Sunrise only hinted on but never actually showed us.

Overall, it rubs me the wrong way because I can't help but to put myself in both girl's shoes. He gave it to Kikyo. It was hers. It made her feel special and unique. And now he gives it to the child he had with someone else? He says to Kagome she is not a replacement but he gifts their child with the same object that once meant so much to the relationship he had with the woman she was in a love triangle with and was also her past life?

If you want some common ground, perhaps we can agree that none of it was Inuyasha's fault. Sunrise is the one to blame here, because the keepsake was destroyed in canon and it should have stayed that way. Bringing it back was already a tremendous and unnecessary asspull, anyway, so if they were so keen on Moroha having something from her grandmother, they could have certainly taken a less controversial route.

When I think about why they didn't, I'm reminded that they cut out the "Kagome is Kagome, there's no replacement for you" scene, added the "if I was Kikyo, you wouldn't have a problem (with letting her down to fight)" line that didn't happen in the epilogue, among other stuff, and then I have my answer.

And I'd be lying if I said I'm comfortable with what I think they're trying to imply, but I'm fine with people interpreting it as a sweet thing. It's as acceptable angle as any. I just don't have it in me to trust Sunrise to that extent. And I'm sure you can understand why.

[murasaki-murasame]

Thoughts on Higurashi Sotsu Ep15 [FINALE]

For better or worse I think Ryukishi achieved exactly what he set out to do with this series, and I guess everyone’s just gonna be forced to reckon with how they feel about his own perspective on this franchise versus how they feel about it, lol.

Anyway, thoughts under the cut, plus Umineko spoilers.

I’m not entirely sure where to even start with this, but I guess the TL;DR is that I honestly think Gou/Sotsu was ultimately just fine despite it’s issues, and part me of can’t help but be like ‘I told you so, lol’ about how this really did end with this episode, and also committed pretty hard to the Umineko prequel elements.

It’s not like all of my theories were correct in the end, but I at least think I was pretty spot on in my prediction last week that this would end with the miracle of them side-stepping the sword issue entirely and choosing the third option of forgiveness and reconciliation. And also them ending it with an epilogue where we go back to the Matsuribayashi timeline and get a happy ending for Rika and Satoko that provides a ‘non-magical interpretation’ for the story while also giving us an idea of how Bern and Lambda formally split off into their own entities and start the relationship we see in Umineko.

I didn’t quite expect them to go down the route of having them agree to just spend a few years apart and accept that they don’t need to literally always be together, but I think that was a really good way to wrap things up between them. It’s pretty much the healthiest compromise to their conflict that doesn’t come across like it completely invalidates one of their dreams. I get why it feels too anti-climactic and convenient for people, but when you pull at that thread you get into wider topics of what the entire story is about, since this was always going to end with Satoko being redeemed and forgiven. People might not have taken him seriously, but Ryukishi was 100% genuine about his regrets about Matsuribayashi’s ending, and how part of why he came up with this new story was to create a better ending, while also doing more with Satoko as a character.

Basically I think a lot of the fandom negativity towards this boils down to people fundamentally disagreeing with the idea that Matsuribayashi was even ‘flawed’ in this sort of way to begin with, or that Satoko was badly written. It’s valid to disagree on this stuff, but at the very least we all have to grapple with how Ryukishi has his own specific relationship with this series.

People like to focus on how he’s a troll who likes to mess with people, but I feel like this is a bit of a wake-up call for people about how he’s actually extremely sincere, almost to a fault, and he likes to use his stories as a vehicle for expressing his personal philosophies and ideals. 

This whole story is also a good example of how he just sees this as ultimately being a fictional story about fictional characters, and not literally a matter of real people who need to be sentenced for their crimes or whatever. As early as the original VN he was almost being outright preachy about the message that nobody is irredeemable, and that philosophy carries through to this. But to be more specific, nobody *in this story* is irredeemable. He’s pretty open about the fact that in practice you can’t apply this sort of ideal to real life, but fictional stories are their own separate matter.

I think this whole issue of how he views this as a story first and foremost is also the central reason why this ended in a way that comes across as Satoko being let off too easy for her crimes. One way or another, Ryukishi’s made it clear that he sees this as being no different to how other characters had arcs where they committed crimes but still got forgiven, or how Takano is basically a straight up war criminal who also got forgiven for her crimes.

Anyway, this episode at least committed to the Umineko stuff, so that was satisfying. Sure there’s people that still want to deny it, but at this point I think a lot of people are just being stubborn, so it’s not like anything would have really convinced them, lol. I’m also genuinely not sure what people even would have expected them to do beyond what we saw her, aside from having the two of them literally put on their gothic lolita outfits and turn to the camera and go ‘we are literally Bernkastel and Lambdadelta from the video game series Umineko When They Cry’. I almost feel like there’s some kind of misunderstanding from people who aren’t familiar with Umineko when it comes to the idea of what it even means for this to be ‘an Umineko prequel’, or ‘a Bern/Lambda origin story’. I mean, this is quite literally exactly what I expected and hoped for in that regard. It’s not like I was expecting them to incorporate anything related to, like, Beatrice or the Ushiromiya family.

I think this is also one of those things where you just have to decide for yourself whether or not you want to earnestly engage with the story that’s being told, or if you want to assume that there’s some level of malice or trickery going on.

To be honest, I wasn’t expecting them to literally have Rika and Satoko recite part of Bern and Lambda’s final conversation with each other word for word, lmao. Combined with the scene at the end where ‘Witch Satoko’ talks to herself about how she’s going to give her body back to Satoko while she goes chasing after Rika, it was literally just the exact origin story of their relationship as it’s depicted in Umineko.

I still feel like this would all only really be ‘worth it’ if we actually get something like a full on anime remake for Umineko, but at this point I can’t help but feel satisfied with this part of it all.

It’s not like I think Gou/Sotsu as a whole is perfect or anything, though. I don’t hate it as much as basically everyone else does, but I think Ryukishi’s the sort of VN writer who really struggles with the shift to writing for an anime. I think a big part of the frustration people have is just from how this is formatted as a weekly anime series spread across basically an entire year, instead of being something like a stand-alone VN chapter that you can read at whatever pace you want, even if it ultimately takes the same amount of time to read as it would to watch all of Gou/Sotsu.

There’s also the whole issue of this being a sort-of-remake, which snowballed into a whole list of structural problems. They absolutely tried too hard to have their cake and eat it too, and they should have just committed to it being made for old fans only, instead of trying to sincerely incorporate elements from the VN that old fans don’t care about anymore because they’ve gone over it already.

And as I’ve said several times before, it was a major issue for them to decide to put Nekodamashi in the middle of Gou and then spend like 20 episodes on flashback answer arcs until finally getting back to that cliffhanger. I’ve been waiting until this all ended to decide exactly how I feel about that, and now that it’s all over I still think it was a really bad idea. I don’t think it was an issue for them to reveal that Satoko’s the culprit that early, but having the gun cliffhanger specifically happen that early just gave people misguided expectations and tainted the answer arcs because people were just impatient to get back to the cliffhanger. And then the cliffhanger itself ended up being somewhat anti-climactic, which is what I’d been fearing would happen. It would have worked fine if they shuffled it around so that the cliffhanger happened right before Kagurashi and was followed up in the very next episode, or if this was a VN where you could binge your way through the flashback stuff, but spending like half of an entire real-life year to get back to that point only to have the resolution be ‘Satoko just shoots Rika and the death loops keep going’ just didn’t really work properly.

I’m a lot more generous towards the Akashi arcs than most people are, since I think they really over-estimate how much re-used content there is there, but they still suffer from the central issue of the show trying to be accessible for new fans. It could have been heavily condensed otherwise, without losing anything in terms of Satoko’s whole character arc.

On the other hand I think the first half of Kagurashi was awful specifically because it highlighted how bad of an idea it was to put Nekodamashi so early in the story. They still ended up having to go back to that arc and repeat it anyway, in the most 1:1 recap-y way in the whole show, but that wouldn’t have even been an issue in the first place if that was instead the first time that arc happened in the show.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how I would rearrange the story to make it flow better while still following Ryukishi’s intentions, and I think they could have condensed it into a 2-cour season with this sort of structure if they did something like this:

-First arc where Rika gets thrown back into the loop and quickly figures out that somebody intentionally caused this to happen, and it’s not Takano because at least in this idea of mine she’d try and investigate her only to find out that this version of Takano regrets everything and is planning to flee the village with Tomitake.

Basically I think this could tie into the idea of Satoko initially wanting to just concoct an idea world for Rika so that she won’t want to leave this time, but sort of like what I think happens in Saikoroshi, Rika would still reject it, and this time around there’d be the additional layer of her knowing that somebody did this to her for an unknown reason. Maybe they could even initially market it as a new adaptation or a remake of Saikoroshi, and then reveal that it’s a sequel, to keep that whole element to the series. Either way I think this would end with everything going to shit when Rika rejects that fragment and wants to go back to St. Lucia’s, and Satoko basically snaps and kills her, and that way the audience can find out about her being the culprit without Rika finding out about it yet.

Maybe there could even be some dramatic irony where Rika’s attempts to meddle with certain ‘trigger events’, and her displaying her looper side, inadvertently triggers people around her to get paranoid, and the whole fragment would start to spiral into tragedy from there. I think they could at least use the whole conflict in Tatariakashi about Teppei actually being good this time as a starting point for that sorta thing.

-Second arc, rounding out the first cour, which is basically just Satokowashi. I don’t think there’s much that you’d need to change here, but like I said above I like the idea of her initially trying to just invent a perfect world for Rika and her to live in, instead of jumping straight to murder. But maybe instead of her literally just watching Rika’s loops, she could instead just be stuck using her looping powers to try and figure out how to create that ‘perfect world’ in the first place, by personally investigating all of the different tragedies and how to prevent them.

-Staring the second cour, a third arc where we basically just get to see those loops Satoko goes through, and her whole process of solving the tragedies and ‘purifying’ characters like Teppei and Takano, until we eventually see her perspective on the first arc, and how she reacts to Rika ultimately rejecting the world she tried to make for her.

-A fourth and final arc which is basically just Nekodamashi + Kagurashi, where she just totally snaps and tries to just torture Rika into never wanting to leave the village again, and eventually Satoko gets exposed and they have their direct confrontation with each other.

With that sorta story structure, you’d keep all the relevant bits of Gou/Sotsu as it is now, while being more focused on Rika and Satoko instead of doing kinda half-assed reruns of the Rena and Shion arcs. It’d also push the big cliffhanger between them until near the end of the show, while still revealing to the audience relatively early on that Satoko’s the culprit.

I’d also like them to do more with Satoshi and Shion, so maybe like with how Teppei gets redeemed and Satoko almost gets to have a happy life with him in Tatariakashi, the central question arc of this hypothetical story could also involve Satoko making sure that Satoshi wakes up from his coma, and Shion also gets to have a good relationship with all of them. You could probably do something interesting with the idea of Satoshi and Shion being in the camp of not trusting Teppei and his whole redemption arc.

Honestly I could spend a long time talking about how I would have done things differently, lol. For one thing, I think the Akashi arcs would have been much better if they just changed it so that Satoko used psychological tactics to make people paranoid, and we completely cut out the whole syringe plot device. I get how it fits with Satoko’s whole certainty gimmick, but it made those arcs way too predictable. Even if we knew the outcome, it’d at least be entertaining to see exactly how Satoko might go out of her way to set up the different tragedies. We kinda got glimpses of that sorta plot point in Wataakashi when things seemed to go outside of her control, but they didn’t really do much with it.

Anyway, this is a whole lot of words to say that I think that in spite of the serious structural issues going on, I think Gou/Sotsu as a whole is fine, and was at least working with a lot of perfectly good ideas that could have been executed much better.

Also, on a side note, that one scene during their fist-fight at the start where the art-style changes a bit was kinda weird, but I really liked how it looked, and part of me almost wishes the whole show looked like that, lol. I like Akio Watanabe’s character designs, but I feel like that sort of stylized, almost TWEWY-ish art style would have been really fitting for this series, especially in the horror/action parts.

Oh, and the new rendition of You was so good it almost felt emotionally manipulative, lol.

[fowl-fox]

I know I keep asking you all these random questions, but- in AF, it always irked me that we never learned about Fowl Sr.’s return to Fowl Manor, given that he was recovering from being in a coma (I know his amputation sight would have been healed by then, but I don’t think he would have been strong enough to walk on a prosthetic for a while- he probably used crutches for a bit). Like... what was that like for the Fowls. I know that the books never go into it, but I would have hoped that it was a brief period of the Fowl Family being just... happy to be together again, even as they were having to dramatically restructure their lives again to adjust to the head of the family being home again, especially for Tim and Angeline. Any thoughts or headcanons or what-not?

Ask as many questions as you like! (That goes for anyone else as well.) It gets my brain going and motivates me to start writing things. Also sorry this took a bit, I've got medical crap going on rn.

As usual, I'm gonna toss this under a Read More, because boy, did this get long, I apologize. And I'm going to warn you, a lot of this delves into how I feel about Artemis' relationship with Tim and Angeline overall. But it's those feelings that drive most of my headcanons, so I feel like it's best to talk about them.

Let's start with Artemis Sr. and his state of being after rescue. I'm gonna pull some quotes from my copies of The Arctic Incident and The Eternity Code throughout my pondering, please bear with me.

At the beginning of TAI, we're given a laundry list of ailments Fowl Sr. has when he's dragged out of the water in the beginning of the book:

"Though the man's clothes were relatively intact, his body had not fared so well. His bare hands were mottled with frostbite. One leg had been snapped below the knee, and his face was a horrific mask of burns."

"He'll lose that leg for sure, (...) A couple of fingers, too. That face doesn't look too good either."

When it's Holly's turn to drag Fowl Sr. out of the water, his heartbeat is dangerously low, due to deadly cold water. We know she kept him alive, healed the chest wound caused by the blunt force of the shell Butler shot him with, as well as a blinded eye that wasn't mentioned previously, but we're not really told anything else, which I suppose leaves it up to our imaginations as to what ailments he's left with.

We know he lost his leg, but did he lose some of those frostbitten fingers? Frostbite doesn't fuck around (Mayo Clinic link, if you'd like), and while it's not mentioned, it would be likely his captors would have had to amputate a few of those as well, to prevent the dead tissue from eventually killing their meal ticket. His face was severely burned from the explosion, how extensive was the scaring after everything was said and done? We know magic can heal scars if that's what the magic is told to do, but Holly probably wasn't worried about that in the moment, and she makes this statement:

"I got him," she gasped, "One live Mud Man. He's not pretty, but he's breathing."

So even with Holly doing what she could, it sounds like Fowl Sr.'s condition was still really rough. Rough enough to need prolonged medical attention. He'd spent nearly two years in a coma before waking up in Murmansk, and the ordeal of his rescue was enough to throw him back into a coma, as we're told in The Eternity Code.

Except wait a minute. In Artemis Jr.'s diary excerpt, we're given some information that contradicts the previous book.

"It had been over two months since Holly Short used her healing magic on his battered body, and still he lay in his Helsinki hospital bed. Immobile, unresponsive.

The doctor's could not understand it. He should be awake, they informed me. His brain waves are strong, exceptionally so. And his heart beats like a horse. It is incredible, this man should be at death's door, yet he has the muscle tone of a twenty-year old.

(…) Holly's magic has overhauled his entire being, with the exception of his left leg, (...) He has received an infusion of life, in body and mind."

(...) my father had no need of medical attention. He simply sat up, rubbed his eyes, and muttered one word: 'Angeline.'"

So now Holly's magic apparently healed everything but the lost leg? What?

I love the Artemis Fowl books, but I will always be a little frustrated with their inconsistencies. But you know what? It's great for giving yourself permission to play around with your headcanons. If Colfer changes what he wants when he wants, I certainly won't feel bad about doing it.

I'm going to go with the TAI and say that Tim was still in a really rough state after everything. Ignoring that supposedly his muscles were fine, he'd still have to learn how to walk on the prosthetic. And tbh, I'm just going to believe that his muscles weren't magically perfect. Maybe easier to build back than they would have been without the magical infusion, but there was definitely gonna be work involved. And that's ignoring probable mental trauma. He was in a coma for a large portion of his captivity, but there was a brief period of time where he was conscious, with captors that maybe couldn't kill him, but definitely didn't treat him well (though it sounds like he was being a difficult captive, but yeah, of course, he's a Fowl lol.)

(Detour Thought: My mental picture of Artemis Senior has always involved heavy facial scarring, especially on the side of his face where the damage was apparently bad enough to blind him.)

But to get back to your original inquiry (Jesus, Blue, I am so sorry at how badly I've dragged this out) I do like to think there would be a period of recovery and restructure that would involve the Fowls getting to be a happy family together. Great potential for a hurt/comfort fic, if you ask me.

--

I'm going to be frank, (and this opinion puts me at odds with the fandom at large, I know) - from my interpretations of the books overall, while Artemis certainly had a strict upbringing with parents who were usually busy and definitely irresponsible, I never got the sense that it was a loveless childhood. Nor did I ever get the sense that Artemis feared his father as a person, but rather that he feared disappointing him, which at no point are we told ever actually happened. I've read these books a million times, I've never found anything in them suggesting Artemis ever disappointed his father, nor that Tim was ever actually cruel to Artemis. Strict, yes. Overly formal? Definitely. But not cruel.

Now, the fact that he felt he had to jump through so many hoops to maintain his father's approval? Bad parenting, Tim. Also, don't encourage him to be a criminal mastermind, maybe. But also Artemis is an over-achiever by nature, which Tim just either didn't clue in on or more likely imo, thought it was in Artemis' best interests as an heir of a criminal empire to be that way.

Aside from Tim and Angeline later suggesting he try to be more 'normal' and let go of his criminal tendencies, and that one incident of Angeline pulling a guilt trip (all of which is a whole other thing I won't get into rn), Artemis' parents speak positively to and about him. I just honestly think they don't know how to be actual parents, which, being aristocrats, tracks. They function almost more like older siblings after TAI, really, which isn't exactly great, but it could be worse.

We know his father used to read to him regularly when he was little (ending with a kiss on the head, which I always thought was sweet) and we know that Angeline was always warm and available to him whenever possible (until her grief-stricken dementia set in.) Artemis has a moment of angst at how strict/formal his upbringing was compared to the twins, but overall he generally speaks positively of his parents, and he loved and missed them enough to risk his life several times for them. Even when he's frustrated by their joined presence making it harder for him to conduct criminal activities, he still misses them and thinks about them often when he's away from them.

--

Which yeah, that's what this all boils down to for me. Artemis just wants time with both of his parents, and Artemis Sr.'s recovery, in my headcannon, would absolutely allow for that time he so desperately wanted, deep down. Assisting in the physical recovery, using the down time to really talk and catch up (without mentioning his fairy adventures, of course.) It would be a drastic change and awkward to adjust to initially, but overall I think it would be good.

And as for Tim and Angeline? I think there would be of course the joy of being reunited with the love of your life, because Tim and Angeline are absolutely soul-mates. But I also imagine there were many, many conversations of regrets and questioning how to move forward as a family from this point. Angeline seems to defer to Tim as the one who makes decisions for the family as a whole, but she isn’t afraid to give her input. I bet they were scared, in a way, because not only has everything changed, but the future is uncertain. They have to restructure their whole life, and while overall the changes are positive, they’re not going to be easy.

I also feel like it would be difficult for Angeline in particular because while Tim returning is a joyful thing, she now probably has some self doubts. Why did she fall apart so tremendously, at the expense of not only her well being, but her son’s? While she isn’t the best parent, I imagine Angeline will always carry heartache about her time in the attic and how she forgot her own son. And to an extent I bet Tim does too, because it was his disappearance that triggered it.

And now I want to write a fic about all of this, which I guess I'll add to my pile of ideas I've been playing around with.

–

I'd definitely like to hear more thoughts on the matter from you if you have them!