#in this instance i could tell it was a fan render though & i wanted to see it so now you can too!

[emdotcom]

Found the source for that office render!

[marciabrady]

Hi! How are you doing?

I was just wondering, out of the first four Disney princess movies, which one was your favourite ending? I'm a big fan of the whole 'happily ever after accompanied by the choir singing the main theme' that the OG films had and every time I want a pick me up I always watch the endings of those films. I don't know why Disney doesn't use a choir anymore because I remember the endings of the older movies having a much bigger impact on me.

Like: Snow White being carried by her prince as the animals and dwarfs celebrate (and her kissing them to show her love and gratitude for them), Aurora and Phillip lovingly dancing together as the kingdom and their parents celebrate (accompanied by the iconic blue and pink scene), Cinderella and her prince running down the stairs together on their wedding day and riding along in a carriage and Ariel hugging her father and whispering 'I love you, daddy' before she sails off into the sunset (and King Triton bowing to Prince Eric - a human that he earlier told Ariel to let die in a shipwreck).

Every single one of them captures the whole essence of a fairytale and they all hit my heartstrings just right so I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Hi there! I love this question- thank you so much! I could never choose anything between the original four because they're all completely different flavors and it depends on the mood I'm in!

Sleeping Beauty's ending, for instance, is literally heaven for a romantic at heart like me. I hate anything tacky and over the top- especially moments that are supposed to be intimate. So, Aurora's slow smile of recognition when Phillip awakens her is more effective than any piece of film I've ever seen. The beautiful presentation and rejoicing of her arrival at court, making her the perfect picture of a princess- before the humanity of Briar Rose returns and she rushes to embrace her parents in the most loving caress. Hubert's humor, and Aurora's charm as she kisses him, before she's whirled off to the dance floor. Earlier in the film, we see her nearly deserted in a wood. She wants love, but how would she even dream of finding it when she'd never met anyone in the world outside of her aunts? It didn't even feel like a possibility of a possibility- and when it happened, it was ripped away so cruelty because her loyalty to the fairies dictated she must return home. And, for her to have her Happy Ending, with everyone there- even her Mother and Father- this incredible feeling of inclusion, that she was able to achieve without comprising her own values, as she drifts off into cotton candy dream clouds of romance while the final rush hits you as the fairies' power surges her dress and renders it blue and then pink, until she's one with the sky! Well, it's just so reassuring to all of us who feel like we have no one and nothing, that one day, all the things you never thought were possible will come to fruition in the most beautiful way.

Or Snow White's- the high it takes you on, after the most intense period of mourning for any character. Snow White, who the heavens themselves cry for and the Dwarfs can't find it in their hearts to bury her- the Dwarfs who keep her company and eternal vigil even in death- proving that the good are truly never forgotten. And then her Prince! Her love, that hasn't given up, and has continued to search for her for months and seasons and continues to be so steadfast and true in his word of the "one love" his "heart keeps singing, of one love only for" Snow White. How you can tell he loves her, just as the Dwarfs and birds do, and she's such a vibrant character that she doesn't feel lost to him, even though it seems as if hope may be. Then, the blinking of her eye before that familiar smile comes about- the overwhelming light and positivity that the world is suddenly sunnied with, as the Dwarfs cartwheel and the animals rejoice, and a chorus goes to sing Snow White's dream back to her. This poor girl who's been abused and neglected and almost murdered, but never gave up- it's so heartwarming.

Ariel's is so touching too, but it's admittedly always made me sad. I honestly cried to the ending a few weeks ago. I decided to rewatch it after I saw the live action, and the tenderness with which she embraces Triton in the animated...even writing it I'm beginning to feel my heart contract. Their relationship in the animated film is so layered and fascinating- she feels unloved by him and is constantly hiding who she is from him, she's afraid, and she lashes out sometimes out of that fear. She has doubt rooted in her about his love for her "maybe he's right. maybe there is something the matter with me." And yet, though he unknowingly is rejecting her and telling her she's wrong, he feels as though he's doing this out of love? But then he gets into this place of rage where he just traumatizes her and ends up pushing her away and closer to the very things he's trying to shield her from. For her to hug him like that in the end...and to whisper "I love you Daddy" OH. It's the subtlety thing I talked about earlier but his expression! You can tell he's ashamed on his face, he can tell he's even felt like she hated him in the past for being a disciplinary figure, when all he ever wanted was that love he never knew was there. But as she pulls back, tears shining in her eyes, this inward peace renews in him- and as Eric bows to him- he still commands and accepts all the glory and respect befitting a King of the Sea and is taken to levels that he hadn't been previously in the film, even in the beginning. His final blessing, of the rainbow, is so beautiful and...I just think it's so unique in, these are two people that love each other (Triton and Ariel) but aren't meant to live together and near one another. Their relationship is best at a distance, and there's something so bitter sweet about that. I continue after the read more, but don't look at it if you're uncomfortable with sensitive topics being discussed!

The ending I used to replay literally every morning to myself over the past maybe five years, as though it were a soundtrack and not a scene in a film, was actually the ending to Cinderella. Again, I could never choose between the original four but...the way that this ending has saved me. I used to watch it every morning on my way to work to even be able to work. By the time I was in my early 20s, and working, I had already had a really difficult beginning to my life- and it had gotten so intense right up from my early childhood into my middle school years up through the end of high school, I didn't feel like anything could ever get worse? So, while I was certainly still affected by things and would sometimes get sad, there was always a knowledge and a security in myself that I knew, for a fact, things would never, ever go back to being as bad at they were in that time period. And then...my second job happened. Don't get me wrong, my first job was awful- to the point where my brain function began to deteriorate at a point due to how depressed I was. I started get frequent panic attacks, I was miserable, and I felt helpless. Then, I accepted a job offer a year later that seemed life changing. I moved away from home into a different state, was going to be making twice my salary, and after taking care of different family members since high school had ended, I'd finally be able to be my own person without worrying about someone watching me or listening to what I was saying or monopolizing my time. I'd be able to discover what made me happy, I'd experience freedom, maybe love. That...was not what happened. At my first job, while things were bad as I previously explained, my performance or character was never up for debate. The mistreatment was more so inappropriate managers, sexual harassment, and being yelled at. However, I was also the most well liked person in the office and I was the top performer. So, when I came to this new company, I was convinced that, if I worked as hard as I possibly could, they'd get to know me and would be able to rely on me in a way that would translate to job security and that my workplace wouldn't be as toxic as the other one had been. I wasn't looking for any other forms of validation, literally just job security. This was the opposite of what happened.

For reasons I won't go into now, I was targeted by nearly everyone at this new workplace, save one or two people- but I can pretty much sum it up by saying it's because I was "different" and I was the only one being treated the way that I was, seemingly without rhyme or reason. They all began to lie about me, even from my first week, and come up with the most egregious things and I felt like I was continually being punished for things I didn't do. If I tried to stick up for myself, I wasn't taking "accountability" for whatever they pulled out of thin air. I felt like I literally had no one and the fear of my job being ripped away from me, just as I moved into this new apartment I could barely afford in a city where I knew no one, literally ate me alive. But more than that it was the attack on my character? I never really experienced that before. Remember how I said I never thought things would be as bad as they were when I was much younger? Well, aspects of my appearance and character were always being attacked then but it was more because I expressed myself differently than people were used to and so...I effectively silenced, stifled, killed those parts of myself in order to assimilate and pass and, while it killed me inside, I was able to make my surroundings less dangerous for myself (not entirely safe, because that's out of my control, but I improved my safety by as much as I humanly could) by continuing to- not change myself- but, again, muting the ways I expressed myself and just hacking away at parts of me so they wouldn't be so visible. However, what was happening at the, then, new job??? Having groups of people say the most disparaging things about you when they had no reason, to walk into a new lie every day, to be victim of an attack that, honestly, felt like they wanted me to not just quit the job but actually make me think that I was a terrible person that wasn't worthy of life? It made me doubt my reality, who I was as a person, everything. It got so intense- the one scene that kept getting me through, apart from the ending, was the scene where the stepsisters gather around Cinderella and collectively scream at her for the mouse in the cup. She walks, condemned for something she didn't even do, to Lady Tremaine's room to continue receiving lashing after lashing of an invention resulting from her enemies' minds of something that had nothing to do with her actual actions. Even earlier in the scene, when she's bringing them breakfast and is being intentionally kind to them, they berate her and treat her as a person with no character. That's the closest it felt to me.

BUT THEN, the ending. The ending gave me so much hope. Just as the Grand Duke is to leave, a voice calls out from the steps. A voice that was previously locked in her room, in the tall tower, with no way out and no one to hear her. As she attempts her way down the steps, it's the dialogue the stepsisters and stepmother say that catches my attention. Like my coworkers, they're trying to taint Cinderella to the outside world. They're trying to ruin her name, to stain it, and effectively kill any human connection she could ever have, effectively ending her life. They aren't just trying to make her look bad- they're trying to make her look insane, diminish the very core of who she is into someone that isn't worthy of anything. Someone that, even if she were locked in a tower, might as well be left there to die.

Lady Tremaine: Oh, pay no attention to her.

Anastasia: It's only Cinderella.

Drizella: Our scullery maid.

Anastasia: From the kitchen.

Drizella: It's ridiculous. Impossible.

Anastasia: She's out of her mind.

Lady Tremaine: Yes, yes. Just an imaginative child.

"It's only Cinderella...She's out of her mind- just an imaginative child." This abused orphan who has nothing, yet still hasn't managed to harden in the face of her hardships, that has overcome all of the adversity she's met with, that's the most productive member of the household and single handedly runs an entire estate by herself...who literally has no one in her corner and was physically assaulted less than 24 hours ago by simply producing a dress to wear to the ball so that she could actually be viewed as an equal, as someone who's a person in the eyes of her society. To reduce her to an "imaginative child." To say it's "only Cinderella." Imagine if that worked- the declaration to the ball specified that only eligible women should attend, which Cinderella hadn't been considered before she had a dress in which to attend. Imagine if the Grand Duke had listened to these women, the only "family" or company that Cinderella's permitted and the only people that "knew her," who have much more pull in society over a tattered orphan servant. Imagine if he did just turn on his heel and left her there. What would it be like in that house, with just the four of them, after they discovered Cinderella escaped from the attic? That she had been the girl from the ball the Prince was still looking for? I don't know, but I shudder to think about it considering we saw how they reacted to her gown the night before. I also can't imagine how difficult it must've been for her to keep going. Knowing the only three people she knew and she lived with belittled her every chance they could get? How they mocked her openly, invaded her personal space, got physical? That would mess with anyone's head. And to continue fighting for your right to go to the ball, to be seen as a person, to be someone that the law applies to and not just an "imaginative child" to be left to the wolves of the world to eat alive. She literally had no one in her corner- no family, no friends, nothing. To keep going by yourself, to be fueled by your own positivity...that's why it makes her so alive and human when she does break down and believe that there isn't anything to her hope and dreams and things will always stay the same. "There's nothing left to believe in." To always do the most you can for other people- she literally fries the mice from death in the traps, feeds and clothes them, and continues to put on a smiling face for her step-family- and to never have anyone ever treat you with a common human decency, let alone actually help you with the dire state of your life???

I know I'm rambling but. I felt the same way- I tried to be the best person I could, to help others around me through acts of kindness and even depleting myself financially from my, already humble, means, and to never have anyone, let alone reciprocate, but be able to help me? It felt so hopeless, like all was lost. To be the best you could and to still be the subject of so much endless sabotage, that felt like it would never end? Then the glass slipper breaks. Even the Grand Duke is beyond consolable. But Cinderella rises above- producing the slipper all on her own. We're rushed to the church and as we see Bruno, a starved bloodhound, and Major, an old horse, leading this royal procession, how can you heart not warm up? To see the mice cheering her on, in their new suits, while Cinderella waves at them. There she is- again, someone who was treated like actual trash, without any parents, someone who was abused and belittled and minimized and on the brink of ending it all- and smiling so gratefully and graciously and happily from the inside of the carriage, looking out at all the people that she supported, that now support her, in the brink of all of that tragedy? It's unparalleled. Looking at Cinderella waving from inside the coach, I never see the Princess- I see the little girl and think of her victory of survival.

[folkloreguk]

🍒Cherry Ice Cream (2)🍒

A/N: Part two is here! There won't be another one after this. I just wanted to split it into two little scenarios with one being cute and the other not so cute lmao...I hope you enjoy - as always I appreciate feedback a lot!

taglist: @lovely-ateez

genre: smut, optional bias (m) x reader (f), lifeguard!au, pool sex, unprotected sex

words: 3.4 k

PART 1 (fluff, both parts can be read independently)

It was the middle of the summer holidays and you had never been happier. Sunny weather, swimming, lots of free time and as much ice cream as you wanted were only a few of the reasons for your luck. The main cause was the boy of your dreams. A few weeks ago, you had met. It had been the most chaotic, embarrassing day at the public swimming pool – or so you had initially thought. Turns out being a walking disaster could not only attract negative attention. When the otherworldly handsome and kind lifeguard had pulled your clumsy figure out of the water and even bought you ice cream to make you feel better, you had a feeling things were about to change. And you hadn’t been wrong. Maybe you were seeing things through rose-colored glasses and a mix of lovestruck hormones, but you suspected he might just really be this great.

Ever since your first ice cream date, the two of you had been inseparable. Looks were one thing – and you had made yourself aware that though he was a picture of perfection, he could still have turned out to not be your type at all. But the inside reflected on his outside. Every day you found out a new enrapturing detail about him. He was a never-ending book that you were utterly unwilling to put back down.

Your days were spent at the public swimming pool, watching your lifeguard boyfriend do his job and questioning if this was all some sort of hidden camera prank. During his break he came running straight to your spot under the trees and plopped down on your towel, ready to spend the most time with you until he had to go back. Although your streak of bad luck was over, he still took care of you and made sure you were okay in the heat. He reminded you to drink enough water and sent you a good morning text every day. When he had first asked you to help him put sunscreen on his shoulders, you had hesitated with cheeks hotter than the sunlight that day. Now it was a daily thing, and sometimes when his hands were on your back, rubbing in the lotion, you caught yourself wishing there weren’t a hundred families around you. But it was hard scoring alone time with him at the pool. Even later at night, right before closing time, there were always one or two diehard swimming fans there.

“I love watching my cute girlfriend swim,” he would keep telling you.

“You better make sure you’re paying attention to the rest of the visitors, too,” you would reply, but secretly love his flirty remarks. Perhaps he wasn’t even so far off. After your first encounter, it was apparent that maybe you were the one guest who didneed the closest monitoring. Even his co-workers knew of you. They had made it their life mission to remind him daily how whipped he was for you, but he never cared about their teasing.

At night, you rode your bikes home. Towards the candy cotton clouds on the horizon, through the small suburb, you rode side by side, still damp hair flowing in the wind. Outside your home he cupped your face then, the sun kissed skin of his hands still warm to the touch. Like he was the slowly setting sun himself, he kissed you goodnight. You were addicted to his lips. He made you fly, brought back all your fondest memories as if he himself was in them, and let you forget every worry you’ve ever had in the world.

One evening at the pool, you lay on your bathmat, headphones in your ears and your favorite summer playlist taking you to another world. Suddenly, two hands grabbed you by the shoulders. You jerked up in surprise.

“Oh my god, we could have hit our heads together!” you scolded your boyfriend, who was smiling at you like an innocent five-year old.

“Guess what. My boss just told me that I can close the place up tonight. You know what that means, right?” he said.

“Tell me more,” you smirked.

“Technically, we can stay here however long we want. And do whatever we want. As long as no one finds out,” he whispered the last part into your ear. Chills ran up your spine despite the heat in the air.

“Do whatever we want, huh?” you said. “I thought you were being a model employee?”

“I am,” he shrugged with his child-like smile. “And the model employee needs to go back to work now. I have a reputation to uphold. You’ll be waiting for me, right?”

“Of course,” you nodded, watching his figure as he jogged back to his seat by the pool. The next hours seemed to go by extra-slowly, to your dismay. After his announcement, you only found yourself staring in his direction more than on any other day. Truly, you could never get used to his handsomeness. You thought of his voice that made you melt like ice and his hands when he kissed you. Too often they remained in innocent, safe territory. Maybe that was about to change. It was a Friday, meaning the opening hours were longer than usual. By 10 pm however, even the last person had left. The public swimming pool was closed. Officially.

You had to admit, you could get used to having an enormous swimming pool all to yourself. Blissfully, you dived through the water, not having to worry about crashing into anybody’s legs or losing track of your surroundings. You had always felt as though swimming was a little like flying. Not that you knew what flying would be like. But if you had to make a guess, feeling weightless and small in a seemingly endless space probably came close. All your life, it had remained the same. Playing pretend in the water, acting like a mermaid scavenging for the most precious treasure of the seven seas – all your loveliest ideas lingered in your memory like it had been yesterday.

The pool had a shallow end, about the depth which allowed your head to reach above the surface, and progressively deepened towards the other end. You took a gulp of air and descended into the darkness. Taking long strokes, you dived towards the white light at the wall of the shallower pool end. With the brightness ahead of you, you failed to notice the shadow behind you.

As you were in the process of coming up from the water, a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around you. For the second time that day, you jolted in surprise and quickly gasped for air.

“You scared me out of my wits! Will you stop that!” you said, but you were already smiling. It was hard to carry grudges against the boy behind you. Not when he held your waist and rested his chin on your bare shoulder, grinning as if it was a crime to even suspect him of such things.

“Hi, there,” he said and pecked your cheek sweetly. “I missed you.”

“So did I,” you admitted. Only months ago, you had made fun of how lovestruck your friend had been. You weren’t one to speak now. His hands let go of you while you turned your body to face him. Then they were on you again, and although it was a small touch, your lack of clothes created a tension between you right away.

“Wanna race me?” he whispered into your ear, as if there was anyone around to listen in. Was he serious? Did he really think you wanted him to let go of you now? His voice on your neck rendered you wanting him so bad, you had to take a deep breath to compose yourself.

“I’ve been swimming all day,” you said. “Besides, didn’t you say we could do whatever we wanted? We can swim whenever we want, during opening hours.”

“Oh, sounds like you have better plans?” he asked. For a moment, he touched your forehead with his. If you bent forward slightly, you could have kissed him. His hungry eyes were on your lips when you had finished the thought.

“I was thinking you could kiss me, for starters?” you coaxed him. He chuckled.

“So you’ve been thinking about it too, the past few hours,” he realized. “You know, I was trying to be subtle about it.”

“Forget about being subtle,” you said. “Let’s just make out, please?”

“I’d like nothing better than that,” he smiled, and then your mouths touched. His gentle lips tasted faintly of chlorine and salt, a taste you had come to associate with him and magnificent things. You held his face in your hands tightly and pushed your body against him yearningly. Reacting, he sighed and deepened the kiss. His wandering hands found the small of your backside as you arched your back into his frame. You hummed quietly, hands burying in his wet hair and playing with it at the nape of his neck.

All your childhood you had been searching for your treasure under the water. Now you understood. He was right there in front of you. Little you would be proud you had found someone this precious and incomparable. And hot.

“Jump,” he said. You did as he suggested and wrapped your legs around his waist. The proximity of his body made your heart hammer against your ribcage with such feverishness, you worried it might jump through your chest. With the way he touched every curve of your body, you almost forgot how to kiss. Luckily, your instincts did the job for you as you sipped on his lips and sighed every so often. He caught your bottom lip between his teeth, and you felt his smirk when you moaned in surprise. Every inch of your skin burned with desire for him.

As he carried you over to the side of the pool, you pulled away shortly. You took the liberty to attack his neck with frenzied kisses. It felt just as you had imagined a thousand times. You couldn’t possibly recount all the instances when you had found yourself staring at his neck and shoulders in the past weeks. He was easily the biggest distraction you had ever known. But it wasn’t your fault his tanned skin was so inviting and his strong presence ever so alluring. Returning his teasing, you bit into his shoulder, kissing and sucking on it right after.

“Fuck, baby,” he said in a throaty tone. “You’re amazing.”

Softly, he rubbed his nose against yours before your lips locked again. The kiss was all but soft. Your tongues meddled as if you were starved people and you could barely keep your hands in one place. Not that you would want to. You wanted to glue his hands onto your body or better yet handcuff him to your wrists. What was the opposite of a restraining order called? You were about to invent a word for it. Never before had you been so intoxicated, so in ecstasy with another person.

He pulled aside the fabric of your top momentarily and cupped your breasts in his hands. You gasped and melted into his touch and the way he played with your nipples. He attacked your neck in kisses and you shut your eyes, enjoying the sensation of his lips.

“I really want you.” He had his hands on your ass and all you could think about was the growing bulge in his swimming shorts. Your hard nipples rubbed against his chest, the thin fabric of your swim top doing little to nothing to separate your bodies. How could somebody’s whole existence be so titillating? He pulled away, just far enough to speak but barely. “I’ve wanted you like this for a while. But I didn’t want to unsettle you by making you think I just want sex from you. Truth is, I don’t want you to be just some summer romance, Y/N. Every day I hope you’ll still be here when summer is over.”

“Why would you think I’m going anywhere?” you asked. “You’re the reason I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I ask myself every day how I managed to end up with you in the first place.”

“That’s easy. First, threaten to demolish the turnstile with your stubbornness, second, offer your head to a bunch of kids with a water ball, third, square up against a bug in front of a hundred people, fourth- “

“Okay! Enough,” you said. “Don’t bring up my clumsiness. That’s just about the least sexy thing in the world.”

“Baby, I think there’s nothing not sexy about you,” he spoke. He kissed you deeply and all your embarrassing memories vanished at once. “So, you’re cool with this?”

His sudden change in tone caused your breath to hitch in your throat, as his hands lingered by your hips, just above your bikini bottom. You only nodded, the motion getting more eager as the words sunk in. He slid his fingers along the inside of your thigh, and you squirmed under his touch in desperation. Swiftly, he pushed aside the material above your center. His digits slid through your wetness, catching the nub between them, and rubbing ever so slowly. An overwhelmed gasp spilled over your lips, and you closed your eyelids.

“Fuck- ,“ you muttered under your breath. He teased your core, nearly sliding his finger into you, but then pulling away to find your nub to toy with.

“You look so beautiful,” he said. At his words, you looked at him through fluttering eyelids. He was one to talk about beauty. The luminescence from underwater sharpened his features, and his eyes had something magical, something enchanting about them. Like he could have you – or anyone – without saying a word. He reminded you of a merman, or rather a siren. Ready to drag you along with him, deep under the surface. And you were so willing to let it happen. For all you knew, you were long lost and under his spell anyway.

“Have you ever done it in public?” he asked. You were too distracted by his fingers on you at first, head hanging back in ecstasy, until you snapped out of it.

“No, but – fuck – I guess I can strike that one off my sex bucket list after tonight, can’t I?” you said.

“You have a sex bucket list? Interesting, tell me more about it,” he smirked. His eyes darkened and his tongue licked over his lips once. As if on command, his lazy ministrations on you quickened, rubbing your clit in small, circular motions until you were a moaning, stammering mess. You suspected he did so just to see your immediate reaction, and you gave him just what he wanted.

“Can we postpone the – the talking…on later?” you murmured, feeling like collapsing against his broad shoulders. “I’m kind of too busy to – to talk.”

“I can see that,” he teased you, kissing you gently. The delicacy of his lips only made your head spin more. “You’re so sweet, baby.”

“Don’t you want to get busy too?” you asked. You reached for his swimming trunks and wrapped your hand around his hard member through the material. “I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“Shit- me too.” His arousal echoed in his moans, and he sucked in a breath. There was a sense of power in knowing you could make him react so gravely by doing so little. You tugged on his trunks and pulled them down a little to reveal his full length. Palming him, you felt how painfully hard he must have been for a while now. He groaned and it was the best thing you had ever heard. Eagerly, you slid your bikini bottom off and watched for a moment as it sunk down into the depths of the pool. Your legs wrapped around his waist again as he aligned his cock with your core.

At this point you supposed you were both out of words. Hunger had taken over and you barely managed to form a sentence. He kissed you and you hummed and nodded, wanting him to know you were ready. Easily, he entered you and you whimpered at the way he stretched your velvet walls after all the wait. Your senses were overcome with everything around you. The warm water enveloping the both of you, the soft summer breeze caressing your faces, his hands on your hips as he guided your body into his thrusts and the sound of your breathless moans and sighs – it was pure bliss. Night had almost fallen, with the sky being a deep blue, almost black by now. It was a perfect setting for a perfect night with your favorite person.

You gazed into his dilated pupils and the coil in your stomach tightened in the most delicious way possible. Now you recounted a myriad of dreams you’d seen him in. Not always, but occasionally he showed up in your dirtiest of dreams, with his gorgeous, addictive smile and strong arms. But now he was right there, in front of you – inside of you – and you apprehended how weak your boldest imaginations had been. Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders as you clenched around his cock. He moaned your name huskily and it only clouded your head further.

It was crazy how loving a person could magnify everything. Even with closed eyes, the mere idea of him fucking you, at night in a public pool, could beat every single other experience you’d ever had. You felt like you were blessed with the audience with a god. A god, who had manifested on earth only to scoop you up and show you the finest things in life. You definitely couldn’t think of a finer thing than his cock dragging through your walls, hitting your g-spot repeatedly, while he had you cased against the pool tiles. Moans and little whimpers fell from your lips, and you were glad there wasn’t a single soul close by who could have heard.

He was jaw-dropping. With the way he pounded into you hard, using the poolside wall as support on your back, you felt your head spin as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your skin seemed to prickle wherever he touched you and you pushed your chest against his. Just a little closer, you told yourself, even though you were running out of space already. It was body against body while he whispered naughty things into your ears, telling you how incredible you felt, how lucky he had gotten with you and how sexy he found you.

“You’re the fucking best I’ve ever had, baby,” he said. His teeth grazed your neck as he kissed your sensitive skin messily. You could have counted every single drop of water hanging from the strands of his hair and adorning his face. Could have taken notice of every single eyelash and even the tiniest speckles of color in his irises. But you could barely command your eyes to stay open.

“So- close,” you said. In your ecstasy, you clawed at his back as another wave of pleasure went through your entire body.

“Together, hm?” he said, lips brushing over your cheek with every thrust. You hummed and nodded, as he picked up his thrusts to a toe-curling speed. With every touch of your sweet spot, you felt reality slip away a little further, and you were doing nothing to fight it. You invited the feeling in, resting your forehead against his, breaths coming out in short puffs. And then it overcame you. Your orgasm jolted through you like electricity, and you clung to him as if you might have sunken otherwise. It made your shared moans high pitched, and he followed you, pulling you into his arms like it was alone you who was keeping him afloat.

The splashing of the water softened as he drew out your highs for as long as possible with slower thrusts. Eventually, he halted completely. He cradled your face in his hands and when you finally opened your tired eyes, he was watching you with full adoration. His charming smile caused an eruption of butterflies in your stomach. This was only the beginning of your time together, yet you could barely fathom your fortune. And as it seemed, this time fate was on your side.

[cherrybyunss]

Ship: Haechan x Reader Word Count: 2k Tags: Smut, Explicit, Oral (M receiving), Masturbation, Dirty Talking

An excerpt from When It Gets Risky: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31129871/chapters/76918949

Excerpts Masterlist

_________

Donghyuck and you had been sexting. And seeing the guy at school the next day was, to say the least, a very amusing experience for you.

He was just as great at acting like nothing had happened as you were, and you had expected that. But you could feel him staring at you on multiple occasions, even checking you out at times. And every time your eyes met, you looked away and smiled to yourself. And every time you had to talk to him about something, you would look him right in the eye with the most innocent pair of eyes you could manage. You were sure it drove him crazy.

And you were proved right as soon as it was time for the lunch break.

Lee Donghyuck Meet me in the library. Now.

You smiled at your phone before getting up from your seat and complying.

You dropped him a text when you reached the library, before turning the knob on the door and pushing it open, slowly, trying to figure out if you got the location right for sure.

But before you managed that much, the door got pulled open from the other side. Your eyes widened a little at the sudden force, but the surprised expression soon turned into a smug one when you saw Donghyuck, looking almost mad, and really sexy.

It didn’t last long though, as Donghyuck grabbed your hand and pulled you inside, closing the door behind you, and not even giving you enough time to gasp before slamming you against it, and his lips against yours.

His kissed you with unparalleled, almost painful heat. It almost made you dizzy how wonderful his lips felt against yours. He was really skillful. The boy managed to find perfect harmony even in a moment of sheer desperation.

Your hands went around and met behind his neck in an attempt to pull him closer, if it was even possible. And he had his placed firmly on your waist.

He lightly bit your lower lip and sucked on it, testing your reaction, pleased at the gasp it drew from your lips, which you could deduce from him slightly smirking against your lips before moving closer, deepening the kiss.

You loved the boldness. And boy was he a great kisser.

You wanted more.

Just as he was starting to move down to leave kisses and marks on your neck, you slowly raised one of your thighs a little, attempting to create a slight friction against the growing bulge in his pants and your unclothed skin.

He gasped as he pulled away a little, and grabbed your thighs, letting you bathe in much pride at his reaction. With your bodies undulated in that one moment, you could tell how turned on he was.

He was breathing heavily, lips red, glistening and swollen. But you guessed that made the two of you. You noticed he had pretty lips. A pretty face overall. Perfectly in contrast with the most lustful pair of eyes you’d ever had staring you down.

Ah yes, this was exactly what you’d wanted.

“Such a fucking troublemaker.”

You smiled. “I must be, you look really troubled right now.” You said and reached up to give him a soft kiss on the lips.

He looked at you for a slight instance, and then lifted you up against the door the next, throwing your legs around his waist and resting his hands firmly under your thighs for support.

You gasped and grabbed his shoulders hastily. It’d caught you off guard. It was so hot, it’d rendered you speechless. All you could do was sigh at the feeling of his fingers gently caressing the bare skin of your thighs, never letting the feeling of butterflies in your stomach fade away.

“Now we’re talking.” He smirked, your reaction feeding his ego perfectly well. He leaned in against your ear. “I couldn’t think of anything but fucking you all day today. Do you know how much of a pain in the neck that is?”

You almost shuddered at the feeling of his breath fanning your skin.

He scoffed. “And you had the audacity to act all innocent, makes me wanna fuckin’ ruin you.”

You felt a massive rush of adrenaline through your veins all throughout your body. You’d never been more thrilled in your life. Maybe you did want him to ruin you.

“Now where were we?” He said as he moved your hair out of the way and dived right into your neck again, almost throwing you over the edge.

His lips felt absolutely heavenly against your neck. You were gripping onto his hair for dear life and had been finding it increasingly difficult to stifle your moans with each passing second, when almost as if he’d taken it as a challenge to get you to make a sound, he decided to latch his mouth onto a particularly sensitive spot and suck on it, letting him draw a moan out of you.

You felt his nails dig deep into your skin. “Fuck,” he whispered against your neck. “You even sound hot– Fuck.”

You struggled to form coherent phrases with the painful, ecstatic sensation, combined with the constant attack your neck was under at the time. “Hyuck, I–” Hearing his name made him breathe out against an already vulnerable spot, making your breath hitch. “Fuck!”

You slapped the back of your hand against your mouth to suppress your voice, making his ego soar even higher. Encouraged, he went on to leave a number of hickeys that you were definitely gonna end up having to cover up for at least a couple weeks.

“Hyuck, you’re so good at this– What the fuck!” You managed to say in the midst of the struggle.

He pulled away after one last dragged out kiss, and stared at the red spots he’d left. And then up at you, finally getting to catch your breath. He found you so hot.

You almost collapsed on his shoulder when he did pull away. And felt his breath hitch at the deep breaths fanning his collarbones.

And his reaction piqued your interest yet again.

He pushed you further against the door, grinding his hard, probably painfully hard, bulge against your clothed core. Your body shuddered at the contact yet again. You could see he was desperate for a release.

“Hey,” you leaned in and whispered against his neck, in the middle of leaving a lot of soft little pecks, and a couple of hickeys. “Let me take care of that for you, yeah?”

Donghyuck looked at your every move as he let go of your thighs and helped you back on your feet. He didn’t miss the way you looked up at him through your lashes as you slid down against the door.

You unbuckled his belt and undid his trousers. You could feel him twitch even at the slightest contact. You could only imagine how painful the clothes restraining his length must’ve been.

You slid the trousers and the boxers down in one swift motion causing his member to spring up, tall and proud.

You glanced at him ones, and on finding him looking at you with eyes hooded with lust, wasted no time taking his member in your hand and giving it a few light strokes.

Donghyuck had to almost slam his hand on the door in haste so as to retain his balance. It was all the encouragement you needed.

You licked up his shaft before taking him in your mouth. You initially swirled your tongue around the head, letting him get a good view of how your lips looked wrapped around his length, and hollowed out your cheeks to create the kind of suction you knew drove guys crazy. Then you slowly let the tip of his length hit the back of your throat, and your hand handle the length you couldn’t fit inside, before starting to pump him, putting pressure and sucking repeatedly every time you moved up his shaft.

“Fuck…!” You knew he was having a hard time not fucking your mouth, only managing to because you were good enough without it. His little moans and the hitching of his breath were the hottest sounds you’d heard in forever.

“Mm-hmm?” You asked for affirmation, without taking him out.

He shuddered. You looked up at him with innocent eyes, and he hated how much that riled him up. “Touch yourself.”

It caught you off guard. His voice sounded too authoritative, provided his circumstance at the time. It was hot. And who were you to not comply?

So you did. You dipped your unoccupied hand under your skirt, rubbing your clothed folds lightly. You realized then how bad this whole fiasco had you dripping. And the realization made you squirm.

You made sure not to get too carried away, for you couldn’t lose your rhythm. But even with that much being taken care of, playing with yourself made you feel like you were gonna see the stars anytime then.

As your moans, that were otherwise getting stifled, got louder, the vibrations Donghyuck felt against his length got increasingly harder for him to handle. You could feel him getting close.

“Fuck–” He managed to exclaim in whispers as he threw his head back. And with one last pump, he bucked his hips and came undone inside your mouth.

He looked and sounded so fucking sexy, you were sure you’d end up retaining a videographic memory of the guy in orgasmic bliss. And you didn’t mind at all.

You waited for him to ride out his orgasm before taking him out and standing back up. You’d made sure to swallow everything right up so as to not make a mess. And you realized he must’ve noticed it when his eyes darted down to your lips for a fraction of a second.

He lightly threw his head back one more time and took a deep breath before letting himself fall forward onto your shoulder, one of his hands still resting on the door, and the other having found its way onto your waist.

“That was the best fucking orgasm I’ve had in my entire life.”

You smiled. It wasn’t the first time someone had told you that after you’d sucked them off. “I’m glad.”

He nuzzled your neck, planting a couple of kisses around your collarbones. You loved the way it felt. But stopped him anyways.

“Let’s get out of here for now.”

Donghyuck looked at you puzzled. “What? But– I didn’t make you come yet?”

“Yeah, but we can always do that some other day.” You said, and studied his reaction. “Right?”

His curious expression soon turned into a small smile. He grabbed your waist and leaned in, and whispered against your lips. “We can do that every single day, baby girl.”

You smiled, resting your hands on his chest. “Good, because I’m honestly satisfied enough for now. But that by no means implies that I’ll be done with you anytime soon.” You said in between Donghyuck peppering your skin with kisses. “I need to know if you’re as good as you look like you’d be.” He smirked at the latter remark.

“You didn’t come, yet you’re satisfied?”

“You underestimate how hot you were.”

Donghyuck scoffed at your cockiness. “Well, all I’ll say is, thanks a lot for this, then. You were beyond amazing.” He said and kissed your forehead following a light peck on the lips. You found it really sweet how affectionate he was. “And next time, I promise I’m not letting you go before I make you come at least thrice.”

You raised an eyebrow, smiling. “That’s ambitious.”

“Trust me,” he said, planting another kiss right under your ear, “It’ll be the best experience of your life.”

You chuckled. You sure hoped it’d be.

“Let’s get out.” Donghyuck said, letting go of you to get a hold of the doorknob.

You placed your hand firmly on top of his before he could turn it. “Hyuck, uh–”

He breathed out. “Now I’m gonna have a whiplash every time you call me that.”

You facepalmed. “Listen!” You poked his forehead. And he feigned pain, earning a shake of head from you. “Don’t tell the others about this, please? I don’t want things to get awkward.”

“Yeah, okay, I won’t.”

You nodded. “Thanks.”

He tucked your hair behind your ear and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. “Come, let’s go.”

You smiled at the sweet gesture and followed him outside.

"One down, two to go." You remarked to yourself with a small smile.

_________

Read the entire fic here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31129871/chapters/76918949

Excerpts Masterlist

[haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles]

you weren’t supposed to hear that (F! reader)

A collection of instances where your roommate hears you moaning their name whilst your fingers are between your legs. Or your neighbor. Or maybe you walk in on them saying your name. Take your pick 😈

warnings: NSFW, manga spoilers (in terms of what the boys do post timeskip), degradation (i think?)

a/n: i'm so nervous about this one LOL i’m super into Sakusa but I don’t know much about him tbh. he’s some good eye candy and that’s all i got. and i like the idea that he’d be a bit softer with you. anyways, hope you enjoy ✨J

taglist: @apollochjld @kurosarium 

Other parts: Kuroo | Ushijima

Sakusa Kiyoomi 

You weren’t really sure what you were expecting when you filled out the application to be Sakusa’s roommate. The application was straightforward, maybe a bit excessive, particularly in the cleaning department, but nothing you couldn’t handle. And you would’ve done almost anything to be accepted given the price was a steal and the owner of the apartment claimed they would be away frequently. So, agreeing to a few ridiculous housekeeping requests seemed reasonable to you.

All Sakusa wanted was someone to look after his apartment while he was gone, keep it tidy and clean it thoroughly before he returns. You also had to send pictures of the state of your current apartment to ‘prove’ your cleanliness. Excessive, but retrospectively—extremely worth it.

Though what you hadn’t been expecting was for the owner of the apartment to be Sakusa Kiyoomi, an outside hitter for the MSBY Black Jackals. Nor had you expected him to actually accept your application.

In all honesty, Sakusa had been a little desperate. Nobody who’d applied came even close to his expectations, and when he’d read you clean your bathroom at least once a week, it was like a breath of fresh air. And when he met you, you were pleasant and described that you mainly like to keep to yourself which sounded perfect to him. But what really convinced him was that you showed up wearing a mask. He wasn’t sure if you could tell how surprised he was, but the second he saw it, he almost accepted you on the spot.

That was over a year ago now and you and Sakusa have been living in a comfortable rhythm. When he’s home, you gladly help him clean when you have the time, and sometimes when he gets home from practice you already have dinner cooking which he can’t deny he’s come to enjoy. When he’s away, he feels safe that his home isn’t going into complete disarray or collecting dust because you’re there. And when he comes home, he loves that the apartment is nearly spotless.

By now, he almost considers your germs his own. He doesn’t mind sitting near you eating dinner, or next to each other on the couch. In fact, he finds he rather enjoys your presence. But lately, the two of you have been sitting closer on the couch and table, and when he’s gone, he actually misses you, which he will never admit. Coming home to a clean apartment and even you just popping your head into the hallway to greet him before retreating to your room is enough for him.

His growing problem is that he isn’t sure if it’s enough anymore. And it became terribly clear to him when you came to one of his games for the first time.

After the game you waited for him outside the locker room, feeling a little out of place even though Sakusa gave you a VIP pass to be allowed back here. When he emerges, he finds you swarmed by his teammates, politely indulging them and telling them you’re just waiting for someone. It makes his skin prickle in the same way it does when people touch him unprompted. Even worse, Atsumu is far too close to you for his comfort.

You seem fine though, brightly greeting him when he approaches, much to the shock of his teammates.

“What’s a pretty girl doin’ knowing our ‘Omi, hey?” Atsumu drawls, sending a sly smile your way as Sakusa frowns at the nickname.

Before you can open your mouth, amused by the nickname you’ve never heard before, Sakusa interjects, “She’s my roommate.” Rendering the rest of them speechless (which is quite the feat), he takes you gently by the arm so the two of you can leave. Two things shock them: that Sakusa has a roommate and that he touched you.

“They aren’t so bad,” you grin up at him as he scowls, the two of you heading down the hallway towards the exit.

“You don’t have to spend hours on end with them.”

You shrug, knowing Sakusa is a man of unique circumstances when it comes to other people. A thought that makes you stop in your tracks, your hand shooting out to grip his arm to stop him, surprising him enough that he doesn’t recoil from your touch. “We should go this way,” you say, pointing down a different hallway.

He just looks at you, then down at your hand still wrapped around his forearm which you quickly snatch away. “Why? This way will be closer to the car.”

“I came by this way earlier and there was a group of your fans waiting for you,” you grimace. “I’d guess they’re probably still there.”

He frowns, grumbling to himself, but starting towards the hallway you pointed out. He’d very much like to avoid that situation if possible. The two of you make it out unscathed and un-swarmed by his avid fans, and on the way out to the car he can’t help thinking how much he appreciates how considerate you are. Anyone else would have told him he’s being ridiculous and to meet his fans. Not you, however. You always take his feelings into account.

That was weeks ago now. And none of his teammates have let it go since.

For you, when you first moved in, you swore to yourself you’d never fall for him. Not even after you accidentally walked in on him working out in his home gym, his lean and muscular arms out on display, a thin sheen of sweat dampening his dark curls—you nearly combusted. You forced yourself to put it out of your mind, because how could you fall for him? His annoyingly attractive face on billboards haunts you everywhere you go, and he was a stand-offish and a little neurotic for months. But as time as passed, he grew on you.

You now find his need for cleanliness endearing. Particularly now that he’s seemingly accepted you into his ‘bubble’. You’ll never forget the moment he touched you for the first time of his own accord. It was simple, nothing to think anything of really, but for him it was a big deal. It was just a brief touch on the shoulder while you were washing dishes thanking you for dinner. Afterwards, you took note of every time he touched you. One that stands out the most was when he wanted to escape his teammates at the very first game of his you attended. It was firmer, more of a silent plea from him that stunned you.

Really, you could be perfectly happy living like this. Except that your thoughts wander to him far too often now. Especially when he’s gone. It feels weird not having him around, scolding you for missing one spot on the counter, or sitting quietly next to you on the couch—you think about him a lot. His silent presence is strangely comforting, and it doesn’t help you watch his games while he’s away.

He is beautiful to watch. To the point you can’t even believe you live with him. Your efforts to keep your feelings in check were futile. You get so riled up that recently you’ve begun tiding yourself over to the thought of him. At first, you felt pretty ridiculous, especially since it’s hard to imagine him wanting to be…dirty like that, but eventually you just let your imagination run wild. You let yourself believe that with you, he’d be different.

It’s become a habit now while he’s gone. You know it’s awful. Yet you can’t stop yourself. Not when you haven’t been with someone since moving in with Sakusa. At first it was because you didn’t want to piss him off by bringing some stranger into the apartment. But now, you don’t even think you could. Not when you know you’ll only think about him the entire time.

He left only yesterday for his away game, but you’re already missing him. Already foolishly letting your thoughts wander into darker territory that you keep locked up tight when he’s around. His game is tomorrow, so you take the opportunity while you’re almost one-hundred percent certain he won’t come home early. On several occasions he’s come back a day early, but never before a game. Always after.

Your new favorite spot is the shower. Mostly because you can imagine him maybe letting loose a bit while the two of you are actively being cleaned in the process. Once you’ve stripped and the warm water is cascading down your back, it’s easy to imagine him.

You’ve pictured him so many times before that sometimes it really does feel like he’s there. That it’s his hands trailing down your sides, resting your hips, his mouth gently kissing along your neck as his hands move lower. The thought of him towering over you, his curly hair damp from the water, those dark eyes boring into you has you trembling in anticipation.

You’re already soaking when you run a finger between your folds, gripping the tiles when it reaches your clit, wondering what Sakusa’s fingers would feel like instead. Dipping your head, you let out a small, “Kiyoomi,” as you picture him whispering filthy things in your ear.

When Sakusa enters the apartment, he wrinkles his nose under his mask at the slight mess. Though, he supposes he can’t blame you. He wasn’t supposed to be home for another three days. But the other team cancelled unexpectedly, unable to get to the destination due to terrible weather. He hears the shower running in the other room, so he pulls off his mask and gets down to work. He can talk to you about it later.

Though he can’t help imagining you in the shower. Your body freshly clean, water running down your back, between your breasts, and along your legs. His mind gets so clouded by the image that he doesn’t realize he’s been scrubbing the same spot on the counter for a few minutes now. He’s jolted back to reality when he hears a sharp, “Ah!” emit from the bathroom.

He drops his cleaning supplies and quickly strides towards the bathroom thinking you’ve fallen in the shower. The door is slightly open, steam trickling into the hallway, and before he can knock and ask if you’re alright he hears your voice again.

“Oh—Kiyoomi...”

His hand stops mid-air, eyes widening with the realization of what you’ve just said. He pauses for a moment, debating what he should do. He can’t deny he thinks about you more often than he should, and more frequently as of late. And to him, the shower seems like the perfect place. So, he pushes the door open quietly, unzipping his jacket and saying into the silence, “Did you say my name?”

You almost take a tumble into the tub in surprise at hearing his actual voice in the bathroom with you. Close enough to lead you to believe he is in the bathroom. Yanking your fingers out of you, you push back the curtain, intent on yelling at him for intruding on you and scaring the shit out of you, though your voice dies in your throat.

Standing in the middle of the bathroom is Sakusa Kiyoomi, in all his infuriatingly delicious glory, pulling off his shirt and moving to rid himself of his track pants as well. He’s looking at you, deadpan, eyes moving down your body but stopping where the shower curtain is still covering you.

After a moment, you collect your senses, managing to choke out, “Wh—what are you doing?” Just your luck that he came home early at this exact moment and that he heard you. You’d curl up into a ball of embarrassment right now if you weren’t so shocked by his demeanor.  

Now that he’s completely unclothed you struggle to keep your eyes above his chest, gripping the curtain harder when he steps forward and says casually, “It was a long flight, I want to take a shower.”

You gape at him. “Right now?!”

He just takes a hold of the curtain, pulling it open slightly so he can step in next to you, and you’re so stunned you make no motion to stop him. And now you’re finding him towering over you in the small space of the shower, so close you can hardly breathe. All the air gets punched out of your lungs when his large hand rests on your hip, turning you so your back is facing him so he can lean down at tease in your ear, “You asked me to come in here, after all.”

All of the heat leaves your body, pooling directly between your legs at his tone. He wastes no time, lathering his hands up with soap and running them along your sides before reaching forward to cup your breasts in his hands, thumbs roaming aimlessly along your nipples, the soap foaming between his fingers.

“Were you thinking about me in the shower?” He asks, his tone dropping into something dark and dangerous. “Such a filthy girl.” He tugs at your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger making your knees tremble and the growing need between your legs even worse.

“Sa—Sakusa,” you moan, tilting your head back onto his shoulder, getting the full view of his hungry eyes boring into you.

He frowns, pinching your nipples slightly harder, reprimanding, “That isn’t what you called me earlier.”

You writhe in his embrace, gripping his arms, forcing yourself to keep eye contact with him as you correct yourself. “Kiyoomi.” He smirks at you, relenting on your nipples as reward, though continuing his soft ministrations.

You can’t help your ass arching backwards, coming into contact with his hardening member, giving him a bit of his own medicine as you grind against him. He hisses through his teeth, admonishing, “What a needy slut.”

“Fuck,” you mewl, pressing against him even harder. You can’t explain what his voice saying those things is doing to you—all you know is you need him to fucking touch you already. “Please, Kiyoomi,” you beg, lifting your arms up and around his neck behind you, your fingers twining into his wet hair. “Make a fucking mess of me.”

He groans deep in his throat, rutting up against your behind and wrapping one strong arm around your middle while the other trails towards the apex of your thighs. “Is that what you want? To be my dirty little slut?” Your fingers grip his hair even tighter, nodding embarrassingly quickly, standing up on your tiptoes to get his hand any closer to where you desperately need him.

Once his fingers reach your core, sliding up through the slick gathered between your legs and towards your clit; your knees nearly give out from under you. If it wasn’t for his arm around you keeping you up, you would have sunk to the floor at the sheer pleasure that sweeps through your body. His fingers are infinitely better than yours and having his solid frame and prominent hard-on pressing behind you almost sends you through the roof.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks quietly against the skin of your neck, his hips grinding up against your ass, which you gladly return with pressure of your own.

“Yes—yes,” you say, gasping when sinks a finger knuckle deep into your heat, quickly adding another and praising you for how well you’re taking it. He watches the space where his fingers are disappearing into you with a sinful expression, enjoying intensely how you’re practically shoving yourself onto his fingers.

“What a good girl,” he whispers, setting your skin on fire, wanting nothing more than to keep being exactly that for him. He smiles devilishly, in a way you would have never imagined he could in your wildest dreams. An almost savage glint in his eyes as he presses harshly on your clit, eliciting a choked sob out of you, and making you dig your nails into the arm wrapped around you.

“Please—,” you say, head lolling on his shoulder allowing him to finally kiss you fully. Surprising you as his tongue slides into your mouth, his fingers relentless, his free arm now helping you drive his fingers even deeper. Voice coming out in a pathetic whine that makes his cock twitch, you plead, “God—Kiyoomi, please!”

“Use your words.”

Thoughts far too hazy to be any sort of embarrassed you hold his dark gaze. “Fuck me.”

Suddenly, his fingers are out of you and he’s bending you over, the head of his cock pressing into your dripping entrance before he sheathes himself completely in you, a hiss escaping him. His head drops to rest his forehead on your shoulder, droplets from his wet hair sliding down your chest as he composes himself from how fucking amazing you feel around him.

“Fuck,” he moans, the closest he’s come to breaking his resolve from just fucking you within an inch of your life. “So tight for such a needy slut,” he grits out, hands resting on your hips as he pulls out only to thrust into you again. His fingers dig into your hips to slam your ass into his, increasing his pace to the point you can barely see straight. Your own fingers scrabble for any sort of purchase on the tiles in front of you, desperately attempting to ground yourself against his brutal pace.

“You feel so fucking good,” you praise, earning you his hand reaching down to lift your leg onto the edge of the tub allowing him to sink even deeper into you.

The lewd sound of skin slapping together, the two of you panting and murmuring nonsense to each other, and the shower continuing to run fills the space as he continues to pound ruthlessly into you is all you’ve ever dreamed about. As he litters kisses and soft bites along your spine, the pressure in your stomach builds and builds, and before it bursts you gasp, “Oh my god—Kiyoomi.”

He notices your body starting to tense up, your back arching and fingers twitching as your orgasm comes hurtling towards you. Taking the opportunity, he pulls your body up, your back flush against his chest, hips never faltering and fingers finding your clit to bring you even closer to release.

“Cum for me,” he orders, voice so cold you feel a little embarrassed by how much it turns you on. But you know that’s just how he sounds sometimes and he’s probably playing it up a bit for you. “Cum on my cock like the good little slut you are.”

That sends you tumbling over the edge, your entire body convulsing as white-hot pleasure courses through your veins, prolonged by him continuing to plunge into you. The sensation is so overwhelming you start writhing in his grip, attempting to ride it out while he holds you firmly against him restricting your movement.

He can’t hold it back much longer, your walls clamping down around him nearly made him cum on the spot, but he holds you through your orgasm, forcing you to endure the full brunt of it while he continues fucking you. Though your body relaxing against his, your fingers winding into his hair, and your voice asking him so politely to cum for you makes him lose it. He grips your hips tightly, jackhammering into you chasing his release. Eventually his hips still, thighs shuddering as he concentrates on keeping the both of you standing while he cums.

The two of you stand there in silence, water still running, as his forehead rests on your back, both of your chests heaving at the exertion you just expended. Your heart is thundering against your chest, unsure what to say and hoping he’ll say something first. He groans, relinquishing your hips from his death grip and pulling his softening cock out of you.

You really shouldn’t have been surprised by what he says first.

“We should rinse off,” he suggests, despite the fact he’s still leaning on your back, hands now resting harmlessly on your hips.

“Okay,” you murmur, reaching for the soap and moving out of his grasp. He just stands there watching you, the water streaming onto his back, a completely passive expression on his face. If it was anyone else, they might have interpreted it as boredom or that he’s uninterested but to you—he just looks content.

You motion for him to turn around and start lathering the soap along his back, relishing the free chance to roam your hands all over his incredibly built body. Peering around his shoulder, you find him with his eyes closed, the smallest smile curving his lips as he enjoys your hands massaging his back. You smile to yourself, moving on to find his shampoo and gently scrubbing it into his hair, tucking the small pleased groan he makes into the back of your brain to remember later.

After a few quiet moments he says, “The apartment’s a mess.”

That makes you frown, a sour expression adorning your face. Poking his side, you reply, “Well, you weren’t supposed to be home for another three days!” He turns around, washing the soap off his back and out of his hair while you take no time to start exploring the expanse of his chest with your soapy fingers. When he opens his eyes, looking down at you, you pout. “Can’t we leave it for tomorrow?”

As much as he dislikes that, he can’t help but agree, finding the prospect of curling up in bed with you much more enticing.

Once he’s finished, he returns the favor washing your body, and the both of you step out of the shower to dry off. You pull on the pajama’s you’d left in here for after your shower that you thought you’d be taking alone while he simply wraps the towel around his waist, making it almost impossible not to stare at him as he waits for you.

You’re surprised when he leads you to his bedroom, changing into pajama’s of his own as you slide under the covers. They smell like detergent and the faint scent of Sakusa’s body wash, wrapping around you pleasantly—you take an indulgent breath, letting the scent soak into your senses. It gets even better when he joins you, hand resting on your bare arm, fingers drawing small circles against your skin. He gives you a soft kiss to the forehead, enjoying your freshly showered body against his beneath the sheets and your fingers in his hair.

“You know I honestly didn’t think you knew how to kiss,” you joke, tapping his chin, “With the mask and all.”

He peers down at you, the subtlest glint in his eyes as he replies, “Have I changed your mind?”

Your resulting cheeky smile makes his pants feel a little tight. “I think you might need to show me again.”

[magesmiths]

let your heart be your guide

Regency AU // Nat Sewell x Lottie Fitzwilliam // part one

Rating: General (will go up)

Word count: 3,495

Read on AO3

The first time she sees her, it’s from across a busy dance hall, mid turn, whilst in the arms of someone else. All evening, the music has been too loud, overwhelming as she tries to enjoy the dancing, a feat now rendered impossible by the presence of one unknown woman. Her smile is what she notices first; open, genuine as she converses with the gentleman standing next to her.

And then she’s looking right back at her, Lottie is sure of it, the wide smile falling slightly as big brown eyes watch her. It’s as if the world narrows, focusing on only her in a moment of pure, blinding clarity.

(She will, months later, whisper between breathless kisses how difficult it was to remember the steps, to keep turning her head away from the beauty that had ensnared her.)

The dance finally comes to an end and she barely remembers to thank her partner for the dance, his request for another fails to reach her as she scours the crowd for her again. It doesn’t take long, for the tall woman is easy to find even amongst all these people; standing near the edge of the room amongst instruments more valuable than Lottie has ever seen. A small smile pulls at her lips as the relief washes over her. Her pulse quickens as she takes the figure in, both anchored by her presence and set adrift by the fluttering need to know her bursting from within.

If this is what the poets speak of, their words are not enough to capture the truth of it.

She edges slightly closer, breath catching in her throat as she notes a loose curl of hair falling into her soft, serene face - tries to banish the accompanying need to tuck it back behind her ear - and elegant fingers skirting over the pianoforte. Silver rings glint in the light, holding her focus as she watches the gentle caress of the keys. She doesn’t press down, the instrument makes no sound, but her fingers ghost over the ivory as if playing a song from memory. Lottie wishes she could hear her music.

Tearing herself away, she searches the room for someone - anyone - who might be a mutual acquaintance, attempting to maintain an air of calm through the urgent hammering of her heart.

She needn’t have worried. Salvation finds her.

“Miss Fitzwilliam?”

Lottie spins on the spot at the sound of her name, skirts swirling around her, and finds herself facing her. Tina Poname, an old friend, who had spoken Lottie’s name is stood beside her and Lottie tries to control the smile from taking over her entire face.

Lottie tears her eyes from the woman’s face, from the quirk of a smile on her lips - beautiful is not a good enough word, she thinks - and desperately tries to remember her manners. “Miss Poname!” She gives a curtsey. “I did not know you were in Bath, I am delighted to see you.” Her eyes, unbidden, flick back to the deep brown ones behind him to find they are watching her.

“And I you.” Lottie doesn’t miss the smile on Miss Poname’s face as she begins her next sentence, “May I introduce you to Miss Natalie Sewell? Miss Charlotte Fitzwilliam.”

She curtseys again as she looks back to Miss Sewell, her name - Natalie - running through her mind, wondering how it would feel to say, how it would sound. “I’m honoured to make your acquaintance, Miss Sewell.”

“The honour is all mine, Miss Fitzwilliam.” The deep voice, saying her name so softly, sends a flutter through her. “I have not seen you in Bath before, are you often here for the season?”

“Never. It is my first time.”

The smile on Miss Sewell’s lips - oh those lips, she could stare all day - grows at her words. “Well, I hope we’ve made a good impression so far?”

“It’s a beautiful city, I have yet to see much of it though.”

“Indeed, it is.” Tina’s voice forces Lottie’s gaze away from Miss Sewell. She had almost forgotten she was there. “My apologies, you will have to excuse me,” She leans in close to Lottie as she passes, “I have just seen Mr Verda dancing of all things and you know I can’t bear missing a chance to tease him.”

She gives a brief bow to them both and walks off, skirts rustling. Lottie turns back to Miss Sewell, has a moment to take her in as she watches Tina reunite with their friend. Lottie has to crane her neck a little to look at her face. Her skin looks impossibly soft, warm brown almost glowing in the candle light.

Miss Sewell turns back to her and she feels herself grow warm at being caught staring, but can’t bring herself to look away. “Is there anywhere in Bath you would recommend going whilst I’m here?”

It’s been mere minutes, but Lottie is already accustomed to seeing the smile on Miss Sewell’s lips; hopes it’s a result of her company, though she suspects it’s more of a permanent fixture. “I would always recommend the library, I spend much of my time there. I suppose there’s the obvious: the Roman Baths. They are quite beautiful, though the city has become more of a resort in recent years, they are certainly worth seeing. The history of the hot springs is fascinating, formed from water fallen thousands of years ago.”

Her brown eyes, wide and bright, are enchanting. Lottie feels as though she could fall into their depths as she listens to her explain the intricacies of rainwater reacting with limestone, her soothing tones like a sweet wine.

“I apologise,” She looks bashful for a moment and looks away. “You don’t want to hear the history of how rainwater turned into hot springs -”

“On the contrary.” Miss Sewell raises an eyebrow as her eyes flicker back and forth between Lottie’s. “I would happily listen.”

One side of Miss Sewell’s mouth quirks up, and she nods at Lottie. “I’m grateful for your kind words, however a tour guide may be better equipped to explain the science behind it if you are interested.”

“Perhaps you could be my tour guide.” Lottie watches as Miss Sewell rolls her lips together and avoids her gaze.

There’s a moment where she wonders if she’s been too bold, too forthcoming with what burns inside her. The suggestion was light, hopeful even, but it’s a dangerous thing. A risk worth taking, she thinks. Lottie has rarely been one to hold back from temptation, no amount of admonishment could quit her from chasing her desires. And this, this is no fleeting want.

She feels a twinge of regret bubble up inside her, hopes to rectify what she has done, almost prays that she has not ruined the chance of even friendship between the pair, when Miss Sewell looks up.

When they make eye contact again, those brown eyes seem darker. “Perhaps I could be.”

That night, when Lottie is home and under her covers, replaying the evening in her mind, watching it play out on the ornate ceiling above her bed, she lets her mouth form her name. Just once in a whisper barely audible even to her.

“Natalie.”

---

The Assembly rooms are busy again. It is by far the most popular place for a social occasion in Bath, or so Lottie’s aunt is wont to tell her. She would roll her eyes if it wouldn’t earn her a reprimand.

Though, in this instance, she probably wouldn’t complain at being brought here again. The possibility of seeing one Miss Sewell set her heart aflutter.

She had never been a fan of romance novels, though she was always expected to have read the latest by those around her. She preferred an adventure, something thrilling. The feeling of anticipation, the possibility of something exciting with every turn of a page, it was like no other.

But even that feeling was nothing to this.  

They are barely in the door when Lottie is craning her neck to see over crowds. She should be thankful her brother and aunt are too consumed by each other’s conversation to notice her distraction.

“Are you looking for someone?” A soft voice comes from behind her and she closes her eyes briefly to savour it.

“Miss Sewell,” Lottie turns and inclines her head at the taller woman, more beautiful than her memory could do credit.

“Miss Fitzwilliam.” She bows her head in return, her smile widening. “So, were you looking for someone?’

“No, I was merely looking around.” Matching grins tell another story.

“Have you met my brother and aunt?” The two step forward beside her to be introduced. “Mr John Fitzwilliam, Mrs Anne Fitzwilliam. May I present Miss Natalie Sewell.”

Lottie watches as Miss Sewell curtsies and begins easy conversation with them. She struggles to look away as her new friend charms her infamously hard to please aunt, her endearing countenance putting all at ease. Her soft laughter pulls at Lottie’s lips, and she should try and compose herself lest someone catch her looking like a lovesick teenager, but it’s too hard to care at this moment.

When the Fitzwilliams eventually excuse themselves, Lottie lingers for a moment, looking up at the taller woman, heart beating so loudly it drowns out the music in the next room.

“I hope to see more of you this evening, Miss Sewell.”

“And I you, Miss Fitzwilliam.”

There’s a moment of silence between them. They both refuse to be the first to break eye contact and it is not just the corset that’s making it hard for Lottie to breathe.

“Your aunt is waiting for you.” Miss Sewell eventually breaks it and nods towards the doorway.

“Yes. Of course.” Feeling herself flush, she finally steps away. Sparing one last look, she smiles to see she is still being watched.

---

Lottie finds her near the pianoforte again on their third meeting, can’t stop the words that slip from her lips in her eagerness, foregoing any formal greeting. “It’s a beautiful instrument.”

An easy smile graces Miss Sewell’s lips. “Indeed. Do you play?” Her eyes are still on the instrument. It’s a grand thing, though it seems untouched in this corner of the hall.

“Not as well as I should like.”

“I’m sure you’re far better than you care to admit.” Miss Sewell turns to look at her then and the crinkle of her eyes tells Lottie that she relishes the blush blossoming on her pale cheeks.

The younger woman lowers her eyes, a small smile appearing on her face “I would hate for you to be disappointed, Miss Sewell. So I shall venture never to play in front of you and prove you wrong.”

“Oh, but that should surely break my heart.”  

“You leave me in an unfortunate position, Miss Sewell. I must either disappoint you, or break your heart, neither of which is remotely desirable to me.” They’re both smiling now, and Miss Sewell’s eyes flash with something , darkening as Lottie continues. “Perhaps you could help me improve.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Lottie barely contains the shiver that courses through her at the words.

---

The pair have formed a ritual of sorts by their fourth meeting, unspoken - though the words need not leave their lips for them both to agree, each seeking only the other on nights like these.

They spend the first few hours fulfilling their duties, dancing and mingling. Lottie can barely stop herself from looking Miss Sewell’s way, though she feels her gaze oft pulled. Round and round she goes, dancing with men who may as well be faceless for all the draw they have.

Balls and dances tend to last upwards of six hours, and it’s remarkable to find someone able to dance the whole night. It is even more unlikely to find someone willing to do so. Miss Sewell, a lover of dancing, would happily spend the entire time on the dance floor were it for the right partner. As it was, the right partner was occupied and, regretfully, off limits.

Although it isn’t unheard of for two women to dance together, she dared not ask the Master of Ceremonies for permission. Want as she might, Miss Sewell was of the belief that even the opportunity to touch Miss Fitzwilliam, in the tender way that dancing requires and not merely in an accidental brush of fingers in a busy room, would render her incapable of letting go.

The company they find when obligation is finally fulfilled is easier than any Lottie has ever known. She can’t help but feel a lightness in Miss Sewell’s company, a happiness founded on merely the others’ presence.

Lottie closes her eyes, a smile growing on her face as she hears the opening notes of her favourite piece. Dancers gather on the floor and she watches as the pairs bow to each other before taking up the first position.

“Are you to abandon me for another dance?”

“Well, I know few others here, save for my brother and aunt, and otherwise preoccupied friends.” Her gaze flickers towards Miss Sewell who is still watching the dance floor, a small quirk to her lips. “I think you can be safe in the knowledge that I will remain in your company.”

“Now that is a wonderful reassurance.”

They watch a little longer and Lottie can’t help but wish she was watching her companion on the floor instead.

“Will you not dance, Miss Sewell?”

Dark eyes meet hers, smile fully blossoming on curved lips. She can’t help but watch them as her friend speaks. “Are you asking, Miss Fitzwilliam?”

She feels herself redden, and the smile on Miss Sewell’s face grows wider. She leans close, and Lottie can feel the heat of the whisper on her skin. “Don’t tell me either way, I couldn’t bear to know if not.”

She turns away again, leaving Lottie to stare.

Two women who find comfort and fulfilment, not in the attentions of those around them, but in each other, have more power than any man in their presence could hope to wield. For what is man if his attentions are unneeded? Undesired? Unwelcomed? He is nothing.

It is, however, another matter entirely for man to know that.

“Good evening, Miss Sewell.”

Her head turns slowly to face the voice.

“Mr Marks.”

A handsome man with blond hair and brown eyes stands before them, his approach gone entirely unnoticed by the women before him.

“I trust you are well this evening? Is the Miss du Mortain here in Bath too?”

“I’m afraid not, she preferred to remain in London for the season. And you, Mr Marks? Have you been in Bath long?”

“Only a fortnight, I’m due to be here for the rest of the season.”

Miss Sewell only smiles in response, leaving the man looking between the two women. Lottie wonders for a moment why she doesn’t introduce them when Mr Marks’ smooth voice interrupts her.

“I should rather like to ask your friend here to dance.” He gestures to Lottie, inclining his head slightly, and she blinks, taken aback. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a cool mask wash over Miss Sewell’s usually friendly features.

“Is it not presumptuous that you should ask a lady to dance without having first made her acquaintance? Some may consider that rather bold, sir.”

“Fortune favours—”

Lottie lifts her hand to her mouth so as to cover the smile growing there as Miss Sewell cuts him off. “Oh, you can do better than recite an old proverb, Mr Marks. A learned man such as yourself must have a plethora of words at your disposal. I’m sure you can enchant my dear friend here with a few of your own.” She folds her hands in her lap, long brown fingers sitting neatly against the dusky green of her gown and holds his gaze, a smile firmly set on her lips.

They both watch as the man before them reddens, opening his mouth and then closing it abruptly. He looks away.

“No? Perhaps your time will be better spent with women already in your acquaintance, Mr Marks.” Lottie has never heard her speak like this, still all politeness in her words, but there’s something underneath, a finality in her tone that sends Mr Marks on his way. “It was a pleasure to see you, I will pass on your regards to Miss du Mortain.”

Mr Marks finally finds his voice, “Forgive me, Miss Sewell,” He nods first at her companion, then at Lottie, “I forgot I already promised this next dance to another.” His eyes linger for a moment on the latter, offering a tight smile, before he turns away, coat tails swishing behind him.

Silence falls over the friends as they watch him depart, neither needing to look at the other to know they have matching smiles on their faces.

“Do you have a history with Mr Marks, Miss Sewell?”

Her smile falters slightly. “I suppose you could call it that.”

“A scorned lover, perhaps? One of many of yours, I’m sure.”

“Scorned -” She turns quickly to look at her, mouth open and brow furrowed in protestation when she sees Lottie’s smirk. “Oh, you’re teasing me.” She purses her lips and shakes her head, narrowed eyes not leaving Lottie’s. “Ironic, as you should be thanking me.”

“Oh? You didn’t want the two of us to have an acquaintance? I couldn’t tell.”

She scoffs. “I would not deign to introduce you to the likes of Robert Marks. I only wish I had been afforded the same privilege, then we might have avoided the altercation altogether.”

“Don’t say that, I rather enjoyed the altercation , as you call it.”

Miss Sewell watches her, brown eyes flickering between hazel ones, the smile that Lottie is beginning to associate with her own happiness working its way onto her face. “Have you plans this week?”

Lottie only shakes her head in response to the sudden topic change and looks toward the dance floor, cheeks still tinted pink from Miss Sewell’s previous attentions.

“I will be going to the Circulating Library tomorrow. Would you like to join me?”

“Only if you do not laugh at how few great works of literature I have read. You will have to give me recommendations.”

“Do I ever laugh at you, Miss Fitzwilliam?”

“Frequently.” Lottie forces her lips in a frown that refuses to hold.

“How can I ever earn your forgiveness?”

The smile is inescapable now, the corners of her lips pull up on their own accord, and Lottie turns to face Miss Sewell, not expecting her dark eyes to already be focused on her.

Before Lottie can think of anything to say, they are interrupted once again. Her brother approaches with a man whose name she pays no attention to, requesting a dance. There is no escaping this time.

Lottie stands, sparing a wistful, apologetic glance at Miss Sewell and she takes the arm of her partner. She watches as Miss Sewell, never alone for long, is approached by someone.

Lottie can see her from the other side of the wide circle as her eyes look up under those dark lashes. Miss Sewell watches her instead of her partner, inclines her head and curtsies, a smile pulling at her lips that makes the butterflies in Lottie’s stomach take flight. Barely remembering to bow herself, Lottie’s eyes finally find her own partner, who doesn’t appear to have noticed her distraction.

They dance in circles, stepping in, and around their partners. At one point Lottie finds her fingers barely brushing against Miss Sewell’s as they pass each other, in a moment too quick to hold onto, though her mere presence warms her through.

It’s a slow, measured dance; one focused on maintained eye contact between partners and hands held up, close to their partner, but never quite meeting.

Lottie later remarks, in a rare, treasured moment of privacy whilst waiting for their respective carriages, that the dance is needlessly complicated and Miss Sewell smiles at her, drawing close.

She whispers, careful to not quite touch — lips so close that Lottie can feel her breath on her skin, “It’s about the anticipation, Miss Fitzwilliam, the build up to that moment you are allowed to touch.” She reaches a hand up, brushing a loose curl back from Lottie’s face. She feels her eyes flutter closed as fingers just barely ghost over the back of her neck. “And then,” her lips are so close, she knows if she turned her head she could feel them, soft against her skin, “it’s about relinquishing it,” Miss Sewell moves away, and Lottie’s body moves of its own accord, attempting to follow, “just when you’re eager for more.”

She does not need to open her eyes to know the smirk on Natalie’s face.

Once again interrupted, their carriages pull up. “Tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow.” The word is sweet on her lips, a promise of something more .

[sinceileftyoublog]

Wobbly Interview: Going for Happy

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Thurston Moore Ensemble/Negativland band member Jon Leidecker has been releasing electronic music under the moniker Wobbly for over two decades now. In Chicago experimental label Hausu Mountain, he seems to have found kindred spirits, matching his far out idiosyncrasies. 2019′s Monitress and its follow-up, Popular Monitress, which came out earlier this month, are albums about and by machines, as Leidecker ran his music into pitch trackers and synth apps on his phones and tablets, embracing the errors and randomness that were produced along the way. While the source material on Monitress was mostly improvised, the songs on Popular Monitress are more structured and composed, resulting in songs like “Authenticated Krell”, which follows a comparatively clean synth arpeggio before being enveloped by texture, or “Lent Foot”, where the various instruments trail each other. It’s remarkable just how familiar certain sounds are even if not traditionally instrumental ones, like the typewriter clacks of “Illiac Ergodos 7!” or the zooming notes of the thumping title track. Blurring the lines between what’s instrument and what’s not, and even further, what’s composed music and what’s not, Popular Monitress is a defining statement for both Leidecker and Hausu.

I was able to ask Leidecker about various songs on the album and their inspirations. Read his answers below!

Since I Left You: You chose to write more structured songs this time around before running them through the pitch tracker. Do those nuggets of recognizable structures make the final product all the more disorienting?

Jon Leidecker: Hopefully! On both albums, the main thing is keeping the focus on just how live those pitch trackers are. It’s Monitress as long as you can hear how they’re listening. For years, it was strictly a piece for live performance--I needed to be improvising myself, and able to respond instantly, to really underline just how spontaneous the machine responses are. So the first record tried to keep more of that sense of flow. Large stretches of it are simply baked down from stereo recordings of concerts & radio performances of it. Overdubbing more layers of trackers seemed legal, as long all the voices were following that one original sound.

Of course, when you play a tune, something composed or even quantized, it definitely becomes easier to hear what they’re doing. The exact same code running on each phone will respond in very different ways to the same source audio, and you get a chorus of individual voices. They play a lot of wrong notes, but oddly, if you feed the trackers lots of consonant, major chords, it stops being dissonance, and you can tell they’re going for happy. You hear these weird things, trying to sing in unison, and..the result is just pure delight. Weirdly emotional! What’s a mistake? What’s music?

SILY: How did you come up with the song titles? For instance, is there anything particularly Appalachian about "Appalachian Gendy"?

JL: They’re mostly mashed up references to landmark works in the field of generative & algorithmic composition, from the 50’s up to the early 90’s. The recent push of stories on AI musical tools seems to be about automation and labor-saving, but the field of how to develop tools for more creative ends goes back all the way to Bebe and Louis Barron going to the Macy Conferences on Cybernetics and designing their first self-oscillating feedback circuit.

So while my tracks aren’t really in the musical style of the works they reference--something like  “Appalachian Gendy”, which sprung up a fantasy Spiegel/Xenakis tribute, got paired to that stompdown track, and once it did, I added a solo on iGendyn.

SILY: To what extent is your music here inspired by the inner workings of the brain?

JL: Once you get a grip on just how simply neurons and synapses interact, how reassuringly physical thinking is, the electronic music I’ve always found most inspiring often involve feedback systems, self-playing devices, generative music, things that learn rather than settle. Music that helps you model thought. The whole East Coast/West Coast 60’s divide in synth design boiled down to Moog reducing your options until you could easily dial in what you already know you want, and Buchla designing uncertainty machines to be networked together until they approach the complexity of an unknown brain.

SILY: "Synaptic Padberg" and "Every Piano" have moments of recognizable instruments as opposed to alien instruments (strings and piano, respectively). Was that just a product of the errors/randomness of the music-making, or purposeful?

JL: It's supposed to sound orchestral, so I hit my Mellotron and Chamberlin apps pretty hard with this piece. Not like anything remains plausibly real once they're getting hammered by the trackers. That is a real grand piano, however: me playing the tune at SnowGhost Music in Montana. Brett Allen deserves an engineering credit, but I also wanted the first listen to make you wonder.

SILY: There's almost a funky rhythm to "Motown Electronium". Do you envision folks dancing to this record?

JL: Would have been plain wrong to put that title on an unworthy beat. What would a room full of people dancing to this even be like? Maybe in Baltimore.

SILY: Do you think "Training Lullaby" is what a computer trying to write a lullaby would sound like?

JL: Not that relaxing, is it? That’s ten seconds pulled from a five minute live improvisation, just a little burst of fury in the middle. Which I’ve heard enough now that I can sing along to it; so now, for me, it is calming.

I finally had to admit to myself that I’m a fan of the OpenAI Jukebox stuff. It’s right at that stage where their results are still primitive enough to remain a little mysterious. All the context and relationships intrinsic to what humans call music is irrelevant to those GANs. They don’t need culture to make music, they just need waveforms. What does it tell us that simple pattern analysis and brute number crunching on a large enough data set can produce those sounds? They’re training us. I have twelve hours of their Soundcloud dump ripped to my phone, and I play it a lot, though I wouldn’t play it for anyone under four. Can definitely sing along to some of the weirder ones by now.

SILY: How did you approach the order of tracks on the record? I'm struck by, for instance, the chaos of "Grossi Polyphony" following the comparative lull of "Every Piano".

JL: Just trying to show the range, and keep the surprises coming. Perpetual variety becomes monotony so quickly, so there is a very careful balancing act to play between shorter and longer tracks. I like a record where on first listen, any new section that begins, you feel like there are no guarantees how long it’ll last, eight seconds or eight minutes. Even things that sound like they should be songs: no guarantees. I still remember the first time I heard The Faust Tapes as a teenager.

SILY: Did you actually use musical dice to write "Wurfelspiel"?

JL: “Wurfelspiel” is just name-dropping Mozart’s generative piece--again, a real piano, but no musical dice involved.

SILY: The beats towards the end of the album--the pseudo hip-hop of "Cope By Design", techno of "Dusthorn Sawpipe", krautrock of "Help Desk"--seem to me to be far more propulsive than anything else here. Do you see a connection between those tracks?

JL: The album hits you with all these miniatures in the middle to keep things moving, and those three are the last little barrage of them before the shift into the final stretch with the longer, more hypnotic pieces. Can be tough to sequence an album when you’ve got so many short tracks, but it’s also total freedom.

SILY: How did you like getting the Hausu Mountain album art treatment?

JL: Totally family. All the Monitress packaging has always been iPhone panorama mode artifacts, visual glitches not entirely unlike what my phone’s trackers do to what they hear. I gave one of those images to [Hausu Mountain co-founder Max Allison] to work with the cover of the first Monitress, and he sent back this image, saying, “Here’s the initial stage: Your photo reduced to color blocks I’ll carefully render out later.” So when the second hyper-detailed one came back in a more proper Hausu style, they already seemed like a sequence, and this second one was already in place, so it all clicked. Any version of Monitress, the music is different, but it’s always the same piece. I’m really happy they asked me for something. [Label co-founder Doug Kaplan] and Max are just coming from the good place.

SILY: Are you doing any live streams or socially distant shows any time soon?

JL: Multi-location live streams are a blast. The time modulation inherent in all streaming is deeply psychedelic. The kind of listening you have to do when you know that the relationship of sounds together in time is different for each musician involved? I’m learning utterly new tricks, and it’s astonishing just how live the result is. I sat in on a live stream with Thurston Moore Group a few months ago, the four of them in London, and me hooked up to an amp not far from where I normally am when I play with them. And everyone agreed: It felt like I was there, right up until the instant I quit the app.

I’ve been pre-recording some home live sets for Hausu, Curious Music and High Zero Foundation. Negativland is putting together an hour long performance with Sue-C for the Ann Arbor Film Festival in late March. I finished an album mostly recorded outdoors with my old friend Cheryl E. Leonard for Gilgongo, and we’re going to try to a few outdoor concerts, too.

SILY: What else are you currently working on/what's next?

JL: The second album with Sagan, with Blevin Blectum & J Lesser, is coming out in late April. That one took 14 years to finish. There’s a trio record with Thomas Dimuzio and Anla Courtis coming out on Oscarson. Doing a revision of the last episode of my podcast on sampling music, Variations, to incorporate that OpenAI music. Some Negativland releases tying together the last two albums. There are about four of five other albums that might be done, though it takes time to be sure.

SILY: Anything you've been listening to, reading, or watching lately?

JL: This month has been Maryanne Amacher’s collected writings, Keeping Together in Time by William H. McNeill, Ministry For The Future by Kim Stanley Robinson, important even with happy ending. Interview with Karl Friston - Of Woodlice And Men.  Listening to a lot of “Blue” Gene Tyranny, Xenakis & Lang Elliott, and last week every Ghédalia Tazartès album in reverse chronological order. I don’t care what anybody says: That guy’s immortal.

SILY: Anything I didn't ask about you want to say?

JL: Thank you for your questions!

Popular Monitress by Wobbly

[peachymess]

Hey Peach! About the Armin sacrifice ask, you have to remember that Armin doesn't remember the events of sacrificing his life and dreams for Eren and the others to defeat Bertohld. So if he had to be told he ate Bertohld to survive injuries he didn't remeber enduring, how can he remember his sacrifice/ thought process? This isn't me fussing, just trying to give you a different pov and possibly Isyama's thought process. :) - an old mutual who's been silently watching ❤

Hi, old mutual! ❤️

That’s a good point. Though I would argue it’s not good enough to justify having Armin go through the same lesson twice. See, Armin is aware that he made the sacrifice (through being told). It’s not as though it didn’t happen. It did. And I’m sure he’s been made clear on the details so he’s understood what he did. He knows he chose to throw away something to change something. He knows he did the thing. But that’s only one side of the coin. The other is the audience. We saw him make the sacrifice. This is a construction made for our consumption.

Granted, in real life, people don’t learn and grow after every L or W taken. People make the same mistakes over and over and sometimes they never learn. Just like they can fail to see what earned them a win, thus failing to repeat it.

However, like I said, this is fiction. It needs to be a bit more polished. What I have an issue with isn’t so much realistic psychology as it is the writing here. From early on in the manga - almost since the start - Armin began dropping heavy forshadowing about this “big sacrifice”. He talked about the philosophy of becoming a monster to defeat monsters, being able to throw away things important to you in order to change the world, etc. He pointed to people who mastered it and kept asking himself what to throw away. Several times he even offered to give up his life prematurely (in the battle for Trost, for instance). But we as readers could tell that at those times, it was misguided. That he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t giving up his life in order to move mountains; he saw himself as a burden, disposable, in the way. He wanted to find a way to remove himself while also making it count for something. “The sooner I die, the sooner Mikasa has an excuse to take over my gas and blades, and the sooner she can save more people. Ergo, me dying saves lives. Ergo me being alive is an obstruction of the betterment of mankind as a whole.”

For the time being, he hadn’t overcome what was in the way, in order to learn the lesson he was set up for. The way it was being built up, we knew a big sacrifice was on the horizon, but he wasn’t ready to make it yet. His character development was focused around him realizing his worth first. Only then could he take action with a clear and strong mind.

When that moment finally came in 82, the arc was building up to it, the death flags were there. We saw him stronger, yet fumbling - like a flawed hero - to remain standing strong in the face of his biggest test. After all these arcs, all that he had foreshadowed, talked about, grown towards - plus his trust based relationship with Eren - it all culminated in Armin using his skills of intellect/manipulation/resolve and strength, to go through with this massive sacrifice that moved the mountains and gave humanity that impossible win.

... it seems incredibly awkward to then roll back that resolution, to nullify that development, to rehash that lesson when the climax of it had already happened. The theme of making that big sacrifice was already built up and it already culminated in a big plot point/story beat. Doing it a second time, without any more organic build up than to ride off the back of the old resolved foreshadowing/character development, feels... repetitive and stagnant. How many times does Armin have to sacrifice until he “gets it”, then? If the next sacrifice is, let’s say, sacrificing Eren - does he learn it then and not the first time? If so, that would render the first massive sacrifice without effect character development-wise. That’s a lot of story focus for very little payoff.

Or is the point that Armin has to just... keep throwing away everything that matters to him? If so, Isayama needs to start beginning to plant more explicit seeds that what Armin needs to learn is that “I was wrong about throwing away something to changne something; the truth is any advance needs a sacrifice and in order to keep advancing, one needs to keep shedding the things you care about.”

What I’m trying to say is that the memory thing is one way to explain what we’re seeing here, but it’s just not... strong enough, craftsmanship-wise. Not strong enough to be a good excuse for why we should strip the first sacrifice of the weight it should hold. It was built up over several arcs. He had to grow as a character to get to the point. He used his “would I ever lie to you” card on Eren, a first time breach of their trust bond - something that has its effect in the fact that it’s a first (no “second lie” is as hard hitting as the first one). All so that he could still not have fulfilled that looming “sacrifice”? Isayama now rehashing Armin’s old mantra of what to sacrifice fees so hollow. We already had the answer. He gave his life and singlehabdedly changed the course of the entire story. Such a complex manga and at one point, his sacrifice/death was the SINGLE one thing the story was focused on. For what? How could that not be the defining moment? How could he not grow from that? What lesson can possibly be better established and hard hitting enough to justify getting through to him more than 82? No second sacrifice will have the same weight. Especially not when it’s leaning on the buildup he already used for 82. Either this new sacrifice is the “true/final” outcome of the pre-82 build up (which makes that 82-climax empty and undermined) and he will struggle to top the fake climax of the return arc, OR he means to build a new sacrifice plot point without much justifiable buildup. Either way, he’d be so much better served by making Armin approach this from a changed perspective.

Now, I’m not saying one sacrifice is/should be enough to fix everything. And at this point, possibly giving up Eren is a very relevant topic to have to reflect on. But it would have been so much better if Armin could approach it from a changed/developed perspective. If he could pull a lesson from 82, to bring something new. He’d appear to have grown more as a character since those four (?) years ago, plus it wouldn’t feel like a rehash of something we’ve already seen. All in all, I’m just not a big fan of 82 not culminating in anything character-wise. Has he seriously not reflected on it or grown at all since back then, on this topic? I find that hard to believe. And I find it very dissatisfying as an Armin fan to see Isayama put focus back on this demand for Armin to sacrifice, as though what he already gave wasn’t heavy enough already. Because now that he’s put it out there, he’s got to go through with it. It’s the law of the Chekhovian gun; if you mention a gun hanging on the wall in the first act, it has to be fired within act three. If Isayama makes Armin harp on about making sacrifices at the start of the final arc, a sacrifice has to be made within the end of the story. And I don’t think that’s fair, nor good writing, because it’s already been done.

I’m coming from the POV of a concerned parent. I love Armin like a son, and I frankly just don’t want him to have to sacrifice anymore. But as a writer, I feel like I have genuine reason to justify my dismay. That being said, it is what it is and whatever happens, happens. I have no say in it. Maybe Isayama turns around and throws us a curveball in regards to this. It just doesn’t seem likely. And I think - and this is my own opinion, not fact - that Isayama more likely just feel like this is Armin’s trope/base note at this point, rather than doing the detailed analyze of “memory loss would get in the way of this lesson”. Even though that analysis is a valid, realistic take. I think you thought more thoroughly about this than he did, to be honest.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me. We might be seeing things differently, but I love a good conversation and it felt good to get this off my chest. And at the end of the day, Armin doesn’t need the further development to feel real and well developed to me. I’d love to see him have a new take on the whole sacrifice business, but I’ll settle for seeing him survive and thrive at the end of this (Isayama, I’m looking at you). Let’s cross our fingers, friend ❤️ And thanks for checking in on me! I hope you’re good!

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Put Me In a Movie

Keanu Reeves x reader (A/n- You can tell I was procrastinating by how this is written. Anything so I can not do what I’m actually supposed to be doing. A/n 2- I’m mixing perspectives because who’s gonna stop me?)

Summary Prologue  1   2   3  4  5  6 7  8

Warnings- NSFW/SMUT, oral sex, angst (sorry not sorry)

Chapter 9- Baby, Can You See Through My Tears?

Over a dozen times; she’d laid next to him since that drunken night in Chicago, yet, none of them felt as troublesome as that one. They’d returned from the roadside bar well after midnight, and she’d offered Keanu something he wasn’t readily going to pass up, even if things between them weren’t on stable grounds. Then again, they hadn’t ever been on stable ground. 

A night spent bare naked with entangled limbs broke into the somber splitting of dawn, the first threads sunlight peeling her eyes open. Shaking off an unrestful slumber took merely seconds and by the time Y/n had regained her better senses, she remembered that laying next to her, seemingly unaffected by the weight of their tension, slept Keanu. His soft snores were melodic and his strong arm settled around her waist just a little soothing. Even if things weren’t the best between them, he was still the man she found paradise in giving herself to. 

Shifting her head on the pillow, Y/n sneaked a glance at the alarm clock at her bedside; 5:15 in the morning. It was far too early to be awake. Even if the sun preferred an early start, Y/n still longed for the pleasures of sleep, for at least a couple more hours. So, despite her mind’s protests, she shut her eyes, blocking out the light that filtered through the splits between her heavy dark curtains. It took a while, but eventually, Y/n was turning in Keanu’s unconscious embrace, opening her eyes one last time, regarding him with an admiration that she'd never felt for another. He really did hone some kind of other-worldly beauty, having aged like the perfect Chianti; sweetness of tobacco and all. For a while, she stared at him, controlling the tingling urge to reach out and sweep a few dark strands away from Keanu’s face, which was turned to her. How could someone so stunning make her ache so much? 

The devil usually came as the one thing you want the most.

The wispy thought fled quickly, but Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, Keanu wasn’t really her personal heaven, instead, he was the flames that would one day painfully lap at her heart. Her eyes stung at the idea, though, the inching in heart ache didn’t last much longer, for Keanu’s soft, hypnotic snores were enough of a lullaby to recall sleep. Y/n’s heavy lids slipped closed, her breaths evening out and her troubles following her to the sea of unconsciousness. 

When Keanu stretched himself awake, his sleep blurred eyes weaning open, he splayed his hand on the spot beside him, seeking a bit of early morning intimacy, maybe something quick so it wouldn’t take too long to move things to the shower. Warm rivulets skimming their bodies while his rough palms held her jammed to the wall? It seemed like the right way to start their morning. Keanu’s body ached for Y/n’s, the feeling of her warm, sweet cocoon around him, squeezing him incomparably. Her voice, her taste, her touch. He craved it.

Lest Y/n was still melancholic from the night before.

Maybe they should talk first, so he could explain himself. If he could even find a way to do that. Keanu could tell that his words, or rather lack thereof, had set quiet discontent in her being, and it troubled him too. The not knowing what they didn’t and the knowing what they did. 

When the sheets felt cool to touch, Keanu rolled onto his side, groaning when he found the spot vacant. Odd. It was barely seven and usually Y/n stayed in bed until they were both ready to get up. Keanu spent a minute eyeing the adjoined bathroom, waiting to see if she'd emerge. But the door was wide open and not too long after, he noticed that his t-shirt from the night before had been swiped off the back of the chair at her vanity. 

After a moment's more of contemplation, Keanu shrugged off the sheets, and planted his feet on the cool toned hardwood. Not bothering with his jeans, Keanu just pulled on his boxers before detouring to her bathroom before setting out to find Y/n.

"Something's bothering you?" Keanu's voice broke Y/n out of her murky thoughts, raising her gaze. As her eyes roamed his form from the feet up, she quelled a mischievous smirk by taking her lower lip between her teeth. As usual, just the sight of Keanu was enough to make her forget why she was even upset with him. It wasn't fair, he shouldn't have been able to have that effect on her, but Y/n didn't think she could change it if she tried. It was just something Keanu carried with him; he was magnetic with a deep, hypnotic stare that reeled her in and banished unwelcome sorrows

Clearing her throat, Y/n gently pushed away from the freckled, marble island that separated the brief foyer from her kitchen, padding over to get a second ceramic mug from the cupboard fixed over the kitchen sink. "Not really," she shrugged, producing a patterned blue and grey mug that matched her own, "Coffee?"

"Sure," Y/n could feel Keanu's penetrating gaze following her as she moved about the small area; first pouring some of the fresh brew out of the French press and then preparing it just the way she knew he preferred it; with two spoons of sugar and not a drop of milk. Keanu stayed silent, and Y/n had been so busy sinking back into her own world, that she hadn't realized that he'd stationed himself behind her until she turned around, yelling in surprise and nearly scalding his broad, bare chest. 

"Shit!" And Keanu just chuckled, looking over her impressively, close enough to crowd her little bubble of personal space and render her flustered. "What are you doing?" She breathed, when he blocked her in with his hands stationed at either side of her on the counter.

"What are you doing?" He mirrored, low and gravelly. As hard as she tried, Y/n just couldn't pretend that his behavior didn't have an effect on her. She liked him like that, when Keanu reminded her that she was minute compared to him, when he so easily took control and made her feel much smaller than she actually was. 

A shuddered breath escaped her dry, parted lips and Y/n blinked slowly, "I was making you coffee," her chest heaved with deep breaths and Keanu was so close that each time her chest rose, the fabric of his grey company t shirt, pushed out by her breasts, brushed his torso. The absence of his response signaled to Y/n that he wanted a different answer, and with a clouded, though insistent mind, she probed, "What am I to you?"

Her breathy words were nearly lost in the stillness of the atmosphere, and Keanu brushed a stray strand away from her cheek, twirling it around his fingers, "What do you want to be?"

That couldn't have been a good answer, and in any other instance, Y/n recognized that, but right then, other, more provocative thoughts were consuming her.

Keanu let the curled lock go, proceeding to drag his thumb across her plump, lower lip. Reaching its end, he grasped Y/n’s chin, gently tilting her head upwards, just as Keanu lowered his. The mug, having been set down off to the side, was forgotten, its contents growing stale and cold as the air around them heated up. “I…..”

“Shh,” Keanu’s hot breath fanned the side of her face and when his lips descended upon hers, Y/n could taste a lingering mintiness as his hands slid off the smooth surface, landing on her hips. His tongue slid over hers and the cotton bunched up in his eager fingers. Y/n could feel his longing pressing into her thigh, pale blue tent barely any sort of barrier. 

Keanu swallowed up Y/n’s low moan and his hands skimmed down, only to dip beneath the hem of the t-shirt, which fell to the center of her thighs, grinning against her lips upon the discovery that she had forgone panties. One of Y/n’s soft palms slid up to his shoulder, the other flat on his chest as they continued.

"I want to be the girl you can get out of your head," Y/n whispered, hoarse and soft as she broke their kiss, gently pushing Keanu on the island behind him. When he was backed up there, she kissed him again and he took control with feverish and carnal desire, moaning into her mouth as one of Y/n's hands slipped down to his growing bulge. "Can I?" She pleaded with lust blown doe eyes. 

"Yeah," he breathed his permission. Keanu's hand instinctively lacing in her hair as Y/n dropped unceremoniously onto her bare knees. Immediately, she freed his cock from its cotton constraint, licking her lips at the salacious view before her. Y/n spit into her palm before wrapping her fingers around his girth, pumping, at a leisurely pace and staring up at Keanu, finding herself intoxicated by the primal desire reflected in his eyes.

When they were together like that, none of it mattered. For a handful of sacred moments, nothing was wrong with what they were doing and as long as their innate, physical desires were sated, the turbulence of their emotional states were mute. They could forget, they wanted to forget. 

When Keanu gently urged Y/n's head toward his crotch, she eagerly took him in her encircled lips, her tongue swirling his head before she hollowed her cheeks out, dipping further. Keanu's swollen tip reached the back of her throat before she could even take him fully, and caught by surprise, Y/n’s eyes watered and she almost gagged. Though, recovery was quick and she opted to use one hand to work the rest of his shaft while she palmed his balls. 

At times, she'd alternated between licking the underside of his dick and peppering sloppy, praising kisses along it’s length, eliciting low moans from Keanu above her. "That's babygirl," he groaned when she took him in her mouth again, guiding her to a steady pace, occasionally bucking forward and catching her by surprise. 

The floors were cool beneath her knees, contrasting with the pooling heat in her center, longing to be tended to. Her arousal throbbed needily and the feeling of Keanu in her mouth was beyond comparison. Everything about him was all consuming, from the roughness of his bulging veins against the insides of her cheeks to the salty taste of his skin. The pads of his fingers dung into her scalp as a wordless praise and Y/n's muffled moans seemed to echo, joining Keanu's heavy pants.

"Fuck Y/n," he hissed along with a couple throaty grunts, "I'm gonna…."

But she didn't care, Y/n wanted to taste him, prove that she'd be the one he could truly never shake. 

Though Keanu didn't give her the opportunity, pushing her away with wavering will, "No," was all he offered in return of her disappointed bewilderment, pulling her to her feet. As she stood, in one swift motion, Keanu was lifting her off the floor, turning them, only to deposit Y/n on the cool marble. 

Without further warning, he hastily pulled the t-shirt off, slightly smirking at her exposed breasts, her nipples already responding to the cool morning air and the arousal between her legs. Keanu, in an instant, pulled her to him, her legs going around his middle as he sheathed himself in her longing heat. 

At the feeling, Y/n's head lolled to the side as a filthy groan escaped her lips. "Keanu," she mewled, sinking her nails into his shoulders, getting lost in the way he filled her. 

"Gonna fuck you so good," he warned, exiting her fully before bottoming out again, "You looked so fucking good with my cock in your mouth little one. Do you like my cock in your mouth?"

"Yes!" She cried, knowing how vocal he liked her.

Keanu held her hips in place, her breasts bouncing and her body jerked with each volatile thrust. "Do you like my cock buried in your cunt?"

"Yes!" She screamed louder, her nails, now sunk into his back nearly drawing blood, "Fuck yes!" One of his hands inched up her side, grasping one her breasts, roughly squeezing and kneading as he rolled his hips aggressively. His balls loudly and shamelessly assaulted her drenched core, soliciting lewd yelps and urgent pleas for ‘harder’ and ‘faster’. 

Keanu bruised the impressionable skin behind her earlobe on down the column of Y/n’s neck with ravenous, starved kisses. Her eyes were shut, and Y/n curled her toes, legs still tangled around his waist, making his movements more rigid. Being with him like that was ecstasy, the only drug she’d ever be addicted to, the one that was intoxicating her, killing her, more and more everyday. She wouldn’t quit, she couldn’t, now when he was a master of control, wielding his body to bring hers pleasure. It hurt, physically, but in the best way and she cried, sealed eyes leaking onto his shoulder as he repeatedly rammed into her, reminding Y/n that this was his favorite part of her.

Keanu was the ‘hard and fast’ kind of man.

Y/n was the ‘don’t forget about me’ kind of girl.

And together? They were poison. But poison was good because they were two people that craved destruction so much so that they caused it. He’d never lasted in anything too attached and she was usually running away from it. They worked, the way flames tinged the wings of a moth. Surely, there’d be heartache, and Y/n knew it, but when Keanu was with her, she was only ever interested in a different kind of pain. 

“Fuck, Keanu!” She gasped, ragged and husky. The inside of Y/n’s throat burned and his name ricocheted off the walls. Messy strands clung to her heated, sweaty skin and Y/n’s face was buried in Keanu’s neck. Stark white flashed over her gaze and a gush of slick warmth coated his cock as she came, hard. 

Keanu kept up momentum, grinning mischievously as her little body writhed around him, her creamy juices feeling like every definition of ecstasy. He wanted more, he wanted to hear her call for him again. “Not so fast,” his strained grunt was managed through a tightly clenched jaw and gritted teeth. Vaguely, he could feel hot tears leaking down his shoulder, where her forehead still rested, but he didn’t register what had roused them. 

He couldn’t help her, not when it came to emotions, because he was a little lost there himself. But when their bodies were tangled, when he was buried between her legs, he could help her there. He could be her escape, if she’d be his. 

It wasn’t long before Keanu could feel Y/n convulsing around him again, another wave of pleasure washing their thighs, and that time, he joined her in release. Keanu’s cock twitched between her pulsating walls, generous bursts of cum coating them, only to drip out and sticky their skin, spreading around with a few faltering jerks of his hips. Y/n milked him for all he was worth, her whines and loud, shaking breath weaning more out of him. “Y/n,” he heaved, hugging her close, fingers tangled in the ends of her hair and leaving reddish impressions on the lowest point of her back. 

Y/n’s hold on his back slackened and at some pointed her quiet tears had evaporated. Relaxing a little, she still clung to Keanu, her heart content when he held onto her too. But it wasn’t enough to quell her mind. “Why are you crying?”  Keanu brushed some hair away from her face when he pulled away slightly, noting her bleary eyes and stained cheeks.

As if he didn’t know.

“I’m not crying,” she lied, knowing that he’d possibly forgo the obvious and accept her lie. For a split second though, Keanu seemed to doubt her, and Y/n softly repeated, her thumb skimming the apple of his cheek, their gazes locked, “I’m not crying.” And with that, she distracted him, because his attention span was nil when lust was involved, and Y/n let her lips crush sensually against his, stirring him again with delicate strokes. 

She wasn’t crying, not in anymore. Not for a little while. Not as long as she was high on him. 

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited​  @paanchu786​  @thesadvampire​  @fanficsrusz​  @fickensteinn​  @ladyreapermc​  @babygirltaina​  @septimaseverina​  @snatchedbylele​  @omg-imagine @21stcenturyyfoxx​  @magnificentclodpiebanana @allie1804-fan @keandrews  @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx​  @danceoftwowolves​

[aboveallarescuer]

How Dany assesses the counsel she receives and makes her own choices - Battle of Yunkai

This will be a series of posts meant to show that Dany is open to receiving advice and criticism, but that she doesn’t act solely based on what other people tell her to do. On the opposite, GRRM makes great effort to write a Dany who most often merges different viewpoints and/or finds her own solutions to the problems she’s facing. I won’t include every single decision she ever made (e.g. her decisions at court are often made without counsel and her execution of the ritual to hatch the dragon eggs was already exhaustively and deftly analyzed by other people), but there will be plenty of instances in this series that will prove my point nonetheless. 

Since Dany doesn't receive a lot of advice in this chapter and I want to highlight her agency and skills here, I’m putting the verdict above so that people who don’t want to read the entire meta can at least find its synthesized points right away.

Chapter (s):

ASOS Daenerys IV

The advice Dany receives:

Both Jorah and Barristan warn Dany that she won't convince neither the Stormcrows nor the Second Sons to switch allegiances.

Verdict:

In this chapter, Dany:

Applies Barristan's lessons when she willingly chooses to assess the enemy forces and makes a reasonable guess of how many men the Yunkish forces have.

Has in mind that the sellswords, who are fighting on horseback, are more likely to cause damage and kill too many of her freedmen. (This will inform her plan later)

Embraces her limitations to mock those who will underestimate her for them. (And the author will give plenty of reasons to challenge the simplistic notion that Dany is just a young girl who does not know the ways of war.)

Applies historical knowledge to support her opinion that her forces will overwhelm her enemies'.

Maintains her self-composure and offers excellent comebacks when the captains and the envoy try to slut-shame and/or sexually harass her.

Is doing what she's doing for no other reason than to free the slaves in Yunkai:

She didn't have to worry about the freedmen's safety when they take part in the battle for her, but she does because it would otherwise render her fight for them meaningless.

She could have kept the chest for herself, but she didn't.

She could have taken other chests from the city like she suggests she might do, but she promises instead that "Yunkai will not be burned or plundered" (and that will bite her in the ass later in ADWD).

The only thing she requires is that the former slaves are "allowed to choose freely from among their masters' possessions" and that they are given "food, clothing, coin and goods". Doing this doesn't benefit her in any way, it only helps the slaves.

Outlines a tactical plan that is motivated by her desire to prevent a high number of freedmen casualties and that implies knowledge of:

The Yunkish forces' tactical formation.

The basic topography of the area.

Her enemies' weaknesses and how to exploit them ("I made no promises about tonight", "We will take them under cover of this darkness", "they will see hundreds of campfires burning").

Stays in the room while her captains decide how to better execute her plan. We don't know how much she contributed to the conversation, but it nevertheless shows her willingness to learn more.

When Daario shows up and declares that he and his men will fight for her, she:

Considers if he might be a spy, worries if there are others and is initially suspicious if he's just trying to save his own skin.

Only changes her mind when she sees that he killed the other commanders and that the dragons are fond of him.

Knows that she can't be too distrustful in general, despite the prophecies.

Realizes that the Stormcrows switching allegiances will guarantee that the Yunkish are overwhelmed.

Is more morally flexible concerning the sellswords than one might expect from a traditional hero(ine) fighting against slavery.

Beginning of the chapter

ASOS Daenerys IV is set in motion here:

Her Dothraki scouts had told her how it was, but Dany wanted to see for herself. Ser Jorah Mormont rode with her through a birchwood forest and up a slanting sandstone ridge. “Near enough,” he warned her at the crest.

Dany reined in her mare and looked across the fields, to where the Yunkish host lay athwart her path. Whitebeard had been teaching her how best to count the numbers of a foe. “Five thousand,” she said after a moment.

Even though her Dothraki scouts had already done so, Dany wants to apply Barristan's teachings and assess the enemy forces by herself. She estimates five thousand, which Jorah considers to be a fair guess. I would also note that, while it's not explicitly acknowledged that Dany would know how to describe the terrain the way the narrative does (in the parts in bold above), she is still sufficiently aware of it to concoct a successful outline of where each of her forces should strike the Yunkish later, as we'll see below.

Jorah notes where each sellsword company is positioned and Dany realizes that the Yunkai'i are located in the center. She asks if they lead slave soldiers and the knight confirms that they do, but they aren't equal of Unsullied. Jorah thinks they can "easily" defeat their army, but Yunkai has been forewarned, so any fight might result in more casualties than Dany is willing to accept.

Dany considered. The slaver host seemed small compared to her own numbers, but the sellswords were ahorse. She’d ridden too long with Dothraki not to have a healthy respect for what mounted warriors could do to foot. The Unsullied could withstand their charge, but my freedmen will be slaughtered.

First, here we see Dany using the knowledge she acquired from living with the Dothraki to make a more precise assessment of how her forces might fare against her enemies.

Second, I've seen Dany be criticized before for "breaking" her word with the slavers ... You know, these people who think selling other people is acceptable. This little fact already makes this criticism a moot point at best and slavery apologia at worst, but even then ...

Let's not forget that thinking Dany was "breaking" her word with the slavers means accepting that slavery is valid and that they have the right to sell other human beings.

Let's not forget that Dany's fear that too many of her freedmen will die is what leads her to decide to attack Yunkai and the sellswords when they don't expect it, as the passage above shows.

Let's not forget how awfully we see the Yunkai'i treating their slaves in Tyrion's chapters.

Let's remember all of this.

So, with these considerations in mind, Dany decides:

“The slavers like to talk,” she said. “Send word that I will hear them this evening in my tent. And invite the captains of the sellsword companies to call on me as well. But not together. The Stormcrows at midday, the Second Sons two hours later.”

Jorah thinks they might refuse the invitation, but Dany is quite certain that they won't:

“They’ll come. They will be curious to see the dragons and hear what I might have to say, and the clever ones will see it for a chance to gauge my strength.” She wheeled her silver mare about. “I’ll await them in my pavilion.”

I have no doubt that the previous reactions of the Qartheen and the Astapori to her dragons are informing her attitude here.

Negotiation talks

On my rereads, I've noticed that the negotiation talks in ASOS Daenerys IV are actually quite formulaic: a) the commander/envoy underestimate and/or insult Dany, b) Dany shows self-assurance and/or makes a threat and c) Dany makes a proposal only to be rebuked. So, instead of analyzing dialogue by dialogue chronologically, I think it's more interesting to display these patterns and focus on Dany's voice to highlight her rhetorical skills.

With both the Stormcrows and the Second Sons, Dany points out their blatant military disadvantages while embracing her youth and ignorance (because otherwise they will use these factors to hold her in low regard) and pretending to underestimate herself (because to do so right away means to undermine their propensity to do that):

“Five hundred of your Stormcrows against ten thousand of my Unsullied,” said Dany. “I am only a young girl and do not understand the ways of war, yet these odds seem poor to me.”

~

“It is true that I am only a young girl, and do not know the ways of war. Explain to me how you propose to defeat ten thousand Unsullied with your five hundred. Innocent as I am, these odds seem poor to me.”

The captain of the Stormcrows, Prendahl na Ghezn, is adamant that they don't stand alone, for they have the support of both the Second Sons and "the stalwart men of Yunkai". Dany questions if the Second Sons will stay by their side with such poor odds, but Prendahl doesn't flinch. Misogyny undoubtedly plays a part in his reaction, but there's also the fact that, as Jorah later told her, "[l]ikely he had kin in Astapor".

The captain of the Second Sons, Mero, doesn't even bother offering counterarguments. In his mind, since the Second Sons won battles with worse odds and have him as a leader, of course it will be easy to win against a "little girl".

With both Prendahl and Mero, Dany applies her historical knowledge to support her case:

“Woman?” She chuckled. “Is that meant to insult me? I would return the slap, if I took you for a man.” Dany met his stare. “I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Unburnt, Mother of Dragons, khaleesi to Drogo’s riders, and queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.”

~

“The Second Sons have faced worse odds and run. At Qohor, when the Three Thousand made their stand. Or do you deny it?”

The first passage, in particular, is often quoted by fans, and rightfully so. All of the three men with whom Dany negotiates try to underestimate her on behalf of her gender and/or by sexualizing/slut-shaming her. It speaks volumes that Dany is able to maintain her self-composure and offer such an excellent comeback. She knows what happened to the last man who dismissed her as "an ignorant whore", after all.

In fact, that's not the only rebut that Dany makes for being reduced to her sexuality. Mero's misogyny is particularly insiduous for pretending to be flatterous while he's actually both underestimating her authority and sexually harassing her. That's why her responses to him are more threatening than to the others:

“If you bring the Second Sons over to my side, I might not have you gelded.”

~

“No need. After my eunuchs cut it off, I can examine it at my leisure.”

~

“So it is from you they get their courage?” Dany turned to Ser Jorah. “When the battle is joined, kill this one first.”

The last example is particularly noteworthy. In Game of Thrones, the writers have show!Dany tell her advisor to kill Mero first after he is gone. In the books, however, Mero tries to paint himself as the one that gives his soldiers determination to fight only to be undermined by Dany, who simply asks Jorah to kill him first. As we can see, Dany acts like a boss here and undercuts her enemies' misogyny multiple times.

Then we get to the proposals she makes to each man she interacts with.

This is her proposal for the commander of the Stormcrows:

“Once battle is joined, do not think to ask for quarter. Join me now, however, and you shall keep the gold the Yunkaii paid you and claim a share of the plunder besides, with greater rewards later when I come into my kingdom. Fight for the Wise Masters, and your wages will be death. Do you imagine that Yunkai will open its gates when my Unsullied are butchering you beneath the walls?”

[...] “Tell me this—are the Stormcrows slave or free?”

“We are a brotherhood of free men,” Sallor declared.

“Good.” Dany stood. “Go back and tell your brothers what I said, then. It may be that some of them would sooner sup on gold and glory than on death. I shall want your answer on the morrow.”

Later, Dany's assumption will be validated: Daario Naharis will rather "sup on gold and glory" rather than be killed alongside his commanders. I'll get to him later.

This is her proposal for the commander of the Second Sons:

“Then stay, and fight for me. [...] Coins can be returned,” she said. “I will pay you as much and more. I have other cities to conquer, and a whole kingdom awaiting me half a world away. Serve me faithfully, and the Second Sons need never seek hire again.”

[...] “Can I have a flagon of this fine wine to take back to my captains?”

“You may have a tun. It is from the cellars of the Good Masters of Astapor, and I have wagons full of it.”

“Then give me a wagon. A token of your good regard.”

“You have a big thirst.”

“I am big all over. And I have many brothers. The Titan’s Bastard does not drink alone, Khaleesi.”

“A wagon it is, if you promise to drink to my health.”

“Done!”

If Mero had been more thoughtful and less dismissive of Dany (who had already conquered a city and freed thousands of Unsullied at this point), perhaps he would have considered that she might have used their inebriation to her favor (she did deceive the Astapori, after all, even if she was righteous in doing so). Perhaps he wouldn't have asked for an entire wagon himself if he had taken her seriously as a threat. If she were a man, I'm sure he would have been more cautious.

Finally, this is her proposal for the Yunkish envoy:

“I have a gift for you as well.” She slammed the chest shut. “Three days. On the morning of the third day, send out your slaves. All of them. Every man, woman, and child shall be given a weapon, and as much food, clothing, coin, and goods as he or she can carry. These they shall be allowed to choose freely from among their masters’ possessions, as payment for their years of servitude. When all the slaves have departed, you will open your gates and allow my Unsullied to enter and search your city, to make certain none remain in bondage. If you do this, Yunkai will not be burned or plundered, and none of your people shall be molested. The Wise Masters will have the peace they desire, and will have proved themselves wise indeed. What say you?”

This moment makes it clear that Dany is doing what she is doing for no other reason than to end slavery in Yunkai.

She didn't have to worry about the freedmen's safety when they take part in the battle for her, but she does because it would otherwise render her fight for them meaningless.

She could have kept the chest for herself, but she didn't.

She could have taken other chests from the city like she suggests she might do, but she promises instead that "Yunkai will not be burned or plundered" (and that will bite her in the ass later in ADWD).

The only thing she requires is that the former slaves are "allowed to choose freely from among their masters' possessions" and that they are given "food, clothing, coin and goods". Doing this simply doesn't benefit her in any way.

However, the envoy calls Dany mad when he hears her terms, so she has her dragons burn his tokar. It's a moment that GRRM wishes had been included in the TV show, probably because it has ramifications later in ADWD (namely when Dany is trying to make peace with the Yunkish and they won't trust her word for that reason). 

Battle plans

I recently came across a good meta analyzing the Battle of Yunkai from a military standpoint. I will juxtapose certain excerpts (adapted as bullet lists) from that meta with passages showing Dany's actions and statements in the books to emphasize how capable a leader Dany is becoming:

“An hour past midnight should be time enough.”

“Yes, Khaleesi,” said Rakharo. “Time for what?”


“To mount our attack.”


Ser Jorah Mormont scowled. “You told the sellswords—”

“—that I wanted their answers on the morrow. I made no promises about tonight. The Stormcrows will be arguing about my offer. The Second Sons will be drunk on the wine I gave Mero. And the Yunkai’i believe they have three days. We will take them under cover of this darkness.”

“They will have scouts watching for us.”

“And in the dark, they will see hundreds of campfires burning,” said Dany. “If they see anything at all.”

“Khaleesi,” said Jhogo, “I will deal with these scouts. They are no riders, only slavers on horses.”

“Just so,” she agreed. “I think we should attack from three sides. Grey Worm, your Unsullied shall strike at them from right and left, while my kos lead my horse in wedge for a thrust through their center. Slave soldiers will never stand before mounted Dothraki.” She smiled. “To be sure, I am only a young girl and know little of war. What do you think, my lords?”

~

1. We know that Dany had limited knowledge about warfare (after all, she's only a 14-15 year old girl), but nonetheless she outlined a rough tactical plan which her captains did not hesitate to accept.

2. She used terms such as 'left', 'right' and 'center', which suggest that her outline was based on the assumption that the enemy forces would be arrayed in some kind of linear formation. It also implies that she's familiar with the local terrain and topography. Because if the enemy camp had been protected by natural obstacles (by the coast, a mountain or a river for example), Dany's outline would not make any sense and her captains would certainly have told her so.

3. She also seems to realize her own limitations when it comes to warfare and that the implementation of military operations are better left over to her experienced captains.

4. Dany's plan made common sense and the battle turned out to be a success: The basic idea behind her plan was to let the heavy mass of Unsullied handle the sellswords on the flanks, while the Dothraki attacked the fragile slave soldiers. She deceived her foes, took the initiative, exploited her numerical superiority and took them by surprise.

5. But her plan involved certain calculated risks: Trying to direct a battle involving thousands of men at night can be very difficult, it can easily turn into a mess, and the danger of sudden panic is always present. That is probably why her armed freedmen were held back: Their lack of discipline and lack of fighting skills could easily backfire. The Unsullied, on the other hand, were very disciplined and they were also trained in night-maneuvers. (x)

As we can see, Dany's plan shows that she knows: a) the Yunkish forces' tactical formation, b) the basic topography of the area and c) her enemies' weaknesses and how to exploit them ("I made no promises about tonight", "We will take them under cover of this darkness", "they will see hundreds of campfires burning"). Even more importantly, as the reviewer acknowledges, her captains accept her plan without any objections. This is commendable, considering that it comes from someone who lacks both experience and knowledge.

This quote is also relevant:

It took an hour to work out all the details. Now begins the most dangerous time, Dany thought as her captains departed to their commands. She could only pray that the gloom of the night would hide her preparations from the foe.

To which extent Dany participated or gave feedback in the discussion above is unknown, but we can conclusively say that she at least listened to which military operations her captains would later implement to take the city, which highlights her desire to acquire more knowledge. In fact, I would argue that the author chose not to give attention to this hour of planning because he would rather focus on Dany's outline (and character development). GRRM takes great pains to give Dany agency, portray her as a competent leader and challenge the notion that she is only a young girl who doesn't know the ways of war.

Then, something unexpected happens (though, as I said above, Dany had already considered that this might have happened, even if not 100% seriously): Daario is captured by the Unsullied and unexpectedly declares that the Stormcrows are now on Dany's side. @rainhadaenerys already explained why Dany's trust in Daario does not make her stupid for a few reasons that I'll sum up here: a) he had already betrayed the other captains and would gain nothing doing the same to her; b) having him and his 500 men on her side would guarantee that the Yunkish would be overwhelmed; c) because, despite the prophecies concerning the treasons, she knows that she must trust other people, especially since no one's loyalties are certain. I would also want to add that she makes several considerations before accepting Daario on her side:

“The Unsullied caught one of the sellswords trying to sneak into the camp.”

“A spy?” That frightened her. If they’d caught one, how many others might have gotten away?

~

Dany was dubious. If this Tyroshi had come to spy, this declaration might be no more than a desperate plot to save his head.

This is not the reasoning of someone who can be considered "reckless" or "stupid", but who is rather aware of possible negative implications. However, she also proves to be flexible soon afterwards: if Daario killed the other commanders and the dragons trust him, accepting his allegiance seems worth the risk (and it pays off). Anyone who dismisses her for being "shallow" here has a shallow reading of the text themselves. He's handsome, but that's just a bonus.

In fact, there's a Doylist reason why we shouldn't criticize Dany for accepting Daario - doing so would mean validating Jorah's opinion, which is not a good look. Even worse, doing so would mean undermining this powerful and more than earned moment.

Aftermath

Things go pretty much exactly the way Dany had planned and expected:

“Your Grace, I bring you victory. The Stormcrows turned their cloaks, the slaves broke, and the Second Sons were too drunk to fight, just as you said. Two hundred dead, Yunkai’i for the most part. Their slaves threw down their spears and ran, and their sellswords yielded. We have several thousand captives.”

And, as more proof (if that was even needed) that Dany was concerned for the number of freedmen that would end up as casualties when she decided to attack the Yunkish when they didn't expect it:

“Our own losses?”


“A dozen. If that many.”

Only then did she allow herself to smile.

I won't comment much on the mhysa scene because it doesn't really concern Dany's decision-making. I will say, though, that their reaction shows that they are grateful for her actions (see above, again, how the slaves are treated in Tyrion's chapters) and that it highlights, once again, the righteousness of Dany's cause.

(I've already written about what mhysa means for Dany here and here. Also, because this scene is understandably controversial ... here and here you can find good posts about the racism in the writing of Dany's storyline as a whole in a way that doesn't mischaracterize her.)

How Dany assesses the advice she receives

I'm putting this section in the end because there are only two moments (and one goes beyond the scope of this post) in which Dany receives advice in this chapter. This makes sense: as I said, despite Dany's limitations due to age and experience, GRRM really wanted to highlight how influential she was on the outcome of the battle.  

The one moment that we see Dany getting advice is after she meets with the Stormcrows and the Second Sons. Both Barristan and Jorah agree that she is probably not going to get their support - Mero is treacherous and Prendahl had family amongst the Astapori. There isn't much she can do but accept their warning, but I find this line interesting:

“It is not his reputation that I want, it’s his five hundred horse.[”]

Dany is a traditional hero(ine) in so many ways, so it would be easier to portray her as someone who is unambiguously and plainly wary of the sellswords' lack of morals. However, moments like this and the one later in ADWD Daenerys VIII when she finds that being "dishonorable and greedy" can be advantageous if she wants the sellswords to turn to her side show that Dany is actually quite down-to-earth and flexible and doesn't suffer from moral righteousness like some think. In fact, if Dany had that problem, I'm not sure she would have thought that deceiving the slave masters (justified as that was) and revolting against an entire economic system would be okay; it's more likely that she would have had Barristan's attitude instead (i.e., leaving the region behind while feeling empathy but doing nothing about it). It's also a little detail that shows how GRRM maintains her characterization consistent, for it would be easy to forget that aspect of Dany by the time he got to writing ADWD.

(Of course, it's not so simple as to say that she's okay with their immorality. She is suspicious of them - we see with Daario that she doesn't fully trust him nor reacted well to that advice to kill all the masters in the Temple of the Graces.)

[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: 4 O’Clock

Chapter 6: Could’ve Been

Taglist: @jineunwootrash​

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask! 

Taemin’s grip on my hand was gentle despite the tense muscles protruding along his jaw. 

Even when we were alone in our room again, and he dropped my hand to sit on the corner of his bed to eye me with something like pain in his eyes, I didn’t ask what was wrong. Even if I didn’t fully understand, I knew. 

“What’s going on with you and Lucas?” Taemin phrased the question as casually as he could, but he didn’t get that sharp, cutting look out of his eyes. Maybe he couldn’t. 

Too stiff with the fear that he might look at me like that forever to sit on my bed, I shifted from one foot to the other. How many times had I denied that rumor with the roll of my eyes? I couldn’t even count the instances— they were everyday occurrences— and yet I was stunned speechless when Taemin looked to me for the same answer I gave every time. 

That was the worst part of liking Taemin: always being rendered speechless from a single glance. 

Had his tone been harsher, or had he not sighed like I had stolen his breath in the cruelest way, I might have snapped that it was none of his business whether Lucas and I were friends of lovers— although, looking back, I understand that my romantic life was everybody’s business. 

But Taemin’s tone wasn’t harsh, He did wheeze and fix his gaze on the ribbon on his wrist. And I understood that although nothing happened, I hurt him. And although I meant no harm, I was sorry. 

“Nothing,” I told the truth quietly. 

It always bothered me when people didn’t believe me, but I was never as nauseated as when Taemin doubted me. A frown pulled his lips taut, and he used my name as if it were an instrument to compel me toward deeper honesty. 

“Lei.” He looked up at me. “I can’t keep your secrets unless you trust me with them. If you’re dating Lucas, I can help you see him while you’re grounded—”

“No!”

Taemin’s eyes rounded, and I clapped a hand over my mouth. 

There was no way to distract myself from the racing of my heart or the fact that Taemin was watching me so intently— so curiously— and yet I thought that pacing would busy my mind. I didn’t want to admit it, but honesty was the only way out of this confrontation, and I would have to pry deeper than the common truth that I wasn’t dating Lucas. 

“I’m not dating Lucas. And I don’t like him like that. I like you.” 

Taemin’s blinding smile stopped me in my tracks— stopped the pacing— but it did little to calm my heart. 

His only response was, “Oh,” as he beamed like he hadn’t been angry or otherwise hurt just moments before. 

Taemin didn’t ask me to explain why I had been in Lucas’s room first thing in the morning, but I did anyway. Comfortable enough to sit on my bed, but never comfortable enough to watch as I wiped the smile from his face, I said, “I went to ask Lucas to swap roommates with me.” 

“What?” Taemin crossed the distance between us and sat by my side, probably thinking that sudden proximity would inspire me to look at him. He adopted an almost childlike tone to ask, “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

I shook my head. 

I must have been so confusing to Taemin. One minute, he found me face to face with a shirtless Lucas; then, he heard me confess to liking him (which I guess is a big deal even though it had always been obvious); and now he had to respond to my admission that I wanted— no, needed— another roommate.

“No.” I laced my cold hands together and stared at where they rested on my lap. “I just— I can’t sleep when you’re so close. Or maybe the problem is that you’re so far away. And—” I couldn’t stand the sound of my voice saying this stuff, even if it was true— “ah! This is so embarrassing!”

The second I buried my face in my hands, Taemin promised, “It’s okay. It’s not embarrassing, so just—” 

He knelt on the floor, grabbed around my wrists, and pried my hands away so I could meet his eyes. They were smiling. Almost always smiling. 

“— look at me. I’m not embarrassed, so you shouldn’t be embarrassed either.” 

Although I thought Taemin was never appropriately embarrassed by anything— he was shameless— I nodded despite the numb blush staining my face. 

Here’s the problem with honesty: once you start telling the truth, you can’t stop. 

I rambled, “I stayed up all night because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

It was mortifying enough that I said that out loud before Taemin laughed with absolutely no restraint.  I threw myself down on the bed and hid my face in a pillow, never in a million years imagining that Taemin would be bold enough to squeeze into the small space between my body and the edge of the bed, wrap an arm around my waist, and whisper in my ear, “We can sleep together if you want.” 

Gasping, I rolled onto my back and swatted at him. Instantly, I regretted my instinct; even if he was being a brat, I never wanted to hurt Taemin. 

Thankfully, he wasn’t too offended. He laughed harder and tightened his hold around me so he wouldn’t fall onto the floor. He smiled that authentic smile that made me think— maybe— he wasn’t joking and — maybe— he wasn’t being a pervert. 

“What do you think, Lei? Do you think you could sleep like this?” 

“No,” I would have said if Taeyong didn’t interrupt with his knock on the door, “I could not sleep like this. Can’t you feel how fast my heart is beating? You’ll kill me.” 

Except I probably couldn’t have said anything even if given the chance. Even if I could have spoken, I wouldn’t have heard my frail voice over the thundering pulse in my ears. 

Before Taeyong opened the door, Taemin jumped out of my bed and raced to meet him. As if he hadn’t just been teasing me, Taemin donned that polite smile and asked, “Do you want to come in?” 

Once I caught my breath, I sat on the edge of my bed. I waved at Taeyong and watched as he shook his head in response to Taemin’s question. He rubbed sleepily at his eyes and said, “No, thanks. I just came to tell you two that we have to leave early. We’re supposed to get down to the van, like, now.” 

As I scrambled off the bed to change out of my pajamas, I tossed Lucas’s hat off. As soon as I caught sight of myself in the mirror, though, I dove for the hat and put it back on because— yikes— it was going to take a miracle stylist to fix the bird’s nest on my head. 

When Taemin promised Taeyong that we would be downstairs in five minutes or less, I mistakenly thought he was done teasing me. I thought the business day had started, and that meant that all this talk about liking each other— all the talk about ribbons and roses— would resume with the rising of the moon. 

I didn’t realize how wrong I was until we squeezed into the too-small bathroom to brush our teeth side by side. In the mirror, his smiling eyes met mine, which were swollen from two consecutive nights of little sleep. 

My eyebrows knit together. “What?” 

“Nothing.” He spat into the sink. But it wasn’t nothing. “I’m just thinking about how I’ll get to hold you after the concert.” 

I choked on my mouthful of toothpaste as Taemin brushed by me, giggling like a little boy on his way out of the bathroom. Was this how things were going to be every day of the tour? He was going to take every chance to tease me? 

When I walked back into the room and started rooting through my suitcase for the oversized hoodie I packed specifically to wear on the way to and from venues, I was careful to conceal my blush. 

I said, “I never said I would sleep with you, Taemin,” but he didn’t respond. 

Because the hoodie was nowhere in my bag, I started looking on and around the bed, never expecting that I would find it when Taemin, from his place by the door, cleared his throat to hurry me along. 

The gray hoodie looked a lot different on him, I guess, because he was taller and more muscular than I was. 

“Taemin!” I scolded, running to his side as if seeing him up close would disprove the reality that he was wearing my hoodie. “You can’t take my clothes!”

“Why not?” He tilted his head, held out his dark blue jacket— the one he gave me on the plane— and waved it around until I took it into my arms. “This is what roommates do, Lei. They share their clothes.” 

When he strutted into the hallway, he must have assumed that I wouldn’t carry on the conversation where anyone could hear. He must not have expected me to double my pace to catch up, clutching his jacket in my crossed arms as I hissed, “We can’t do this. The others will misunderstand, and the fans—” 

My voice crumbled when he rounded on me. He stifled giggles as if he had just conceived the funniest joke and raised a single eyebrow. “Is it really a misunderstanding if I like you and you like me?”

Always unsure of what to say, I blinked at Taemin’s nerve. My voice was a barely audible whisper. “It’s not right to knowingly fuel dating rumors when we aren’t even dating.” 

Then, like we weren’t standing in a hall of a populated building, Taemin stopped laughing and asked, “Do you want to, though? Do you want to date me?” 

He sounded very much like Sehun. 

And I wheezed, thinking that he was really ruining this whole thing— this whole experience of falling in love with him when nobody was watching— until he made this goofy winking face. 

You would have to see it to understand why I couldn’t look at him for the rest of the night without breaking into fits of laughter. And I don’t think you can ever see it because it was one of those once in a lifetime things. I’m sorry.

I had just walked out of the bathroom, muscles sore from the concert and hair dripping from a shower, when Taemin held his phone out to me with the simple explanation, “Sehun wants to talk to you.”

“Sehun?” 

My forehead wrinkled as I read the text on Taemin’s screen and wondered how Sehun had worked out this way to contact me while my phone was confiscated. I shouldn’t have been surprised; I never could escape Sehun’s reach. 

Still, we rarely talked between company events. I always guessed that he stopped liking me after each most recent rejection, but maybe he just had to work up the nerve or desire to talk to me again. 

I guess if I’m honest, I would admit that I was concerned about Sehun. I would admit that I was sick from guilt every time I thought about how I talked to him at Donghae’s party. I would admit that all that kept me from texting paragraphs of apologies (before Mom took my phone) was the fact that he would misunderstand.

Maybe this doesn’t make sense, but often all that kept me from talking to Sehun was the fear that he would willfully misinterpret my intentions. It was sad, really, when I thought about the fact that maybe, in some other universe, we could have been friends like I wanted -- like we once were. Or maybe, in some other universe, we could have been lovers like he wanted-- like I probably once dreamed. 

Could’ve Been. 

Taemin really ruined my mind with that song. 

I think I felt so sad those days because I was mourning all the things I could’ve been if I wasn’t an idol. I could’ve been free to hug Lucas and tell him how adorable he was (although he already knew) and laugh as hard as I wanted when he ruffled my hair. 

I could’ve been free to go to the movies with Sehun as he we did during trainee days, and maybe then the feelings he wanted me to have could’ve blossomed, unaffected by my suffocating fear of being involved in a scandal. 

I could’ve been free to act on that desire to kiss Taemin’s lips and see if that would ease the ache in my chest that had always been there, that I just couldn’t ignore anymore after that night in the garden. 

I know these thoughts are useless, and that’s why I didn’t say them out loud— not to Lucas, definitely not to Sehun, not to Taemin (who swore he wanted to hear my thoughts), and not even to Mom (who probably knew the sting of could’ve been better than anyone I ever knew). 

Did I think those thoughts would leave my mind if I didn’t give them my voice? That hope was probably the catalyst for my silence more than the pressure to be the perfect idol who only smiles. That kind of silence doesn’t work, though, if you need someone to tell you. That kind of silence never made me happier; it built walls between myself and others, and I didn’t know how to take the walls down until I broke down like I did in the garden. 

I didn’t want to be lonely anymore, and I think that’s why I couldn’t keep myself from falling in love with Taemin despite my fear of all the things I knew I shouldn’t think, feel, do, or say. 

“Yep.” Taemin’s voice brought me back to reality as he walked by, carrying his pajamas into the bathroom. “In case you don’t know, Kai said that Sehun likes you.” 

Driven only by the urge to look at him— this person whom I wanted to see me as I was— I looked into the bathroom to find that Taemin was leaning against the door frame, studying my expression. His stare wasn’t necessarily disapproving or in any way judgmental— just curious— but I squirmed anyway. 

I asked, “Is this the part where I remind you that I like you?” This time, I didn’t stutter or hide my face after admitting my feelings. 

Maybe Taemin didn’t realize that he was looking at me. A blush broke out across his face as he shook his head. “No— no, I remember. You don’t have to remind me every time a boy wants to talk to you.” 

He smiled, flashing his shining teeth, before closing the door. And I didn’t realize until he was out of sight that I wasn’t ready to stop talking to him.

Taemin took the longest shower in the history of mankind. I was about to give up on waiting for him to walk to Lucas’s room when, finally, he walked out of the steaming bathroom wearing sky blue pajamas and a towel on his head. 

Maybe he would have teased me for staring and (obviously) thinking that he was much more beautiful as a real life person than as an idol had I not stunned him by jumping off of my bed and into my slippers. 

“We have to go to Lucas and Kai’s room.” I returned his phone, assuming that he would read the messages and understand, but he only dropped the phone into his pocket. He furrowed his brow, and I had to explain, “Sehun said that Baekhyun is trying to find out what’s going on with Mom and Donghae because, somehow, he thinks he can use the information to blackmail Mom into being EXO’s manager.”

Taemin’s confusion deepened at the explanation as he tugged the towel off of his head. “What?”

“Clearly,” I stifled my giggles at Taemin’s expression, “the plan only makes sense in Baekhyun’s twisted brain. Still, I won’t be able to sleep until I tell Lucas—”

Somehow rational despite his bewilderment, Taemin sat on his bed, pulled socks over his feet, and asked, “But why do you have to tell Lucas? It’s not like he can do anything to control Baekhyun— none of us can!”

“That’s not the point.” I walked over to the door, rested my hand on the handle, and tried to explain, “When I’m uncomfortable about something— like Baekhyun threatening to learn my mom’s secrets to weaponize them— I have to tell Lucas because he’s my best friend.” 

Taemin blinked, not quite comprehending, as he walked to my side, so I asked, “How would you feel if you couldn’t tell Kai about something troubling as soon as it happened?”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. So I understand why you want to tell Lucas, but do we really have to walk over to his room at this hour?” 

We. 

Why had I complicated matters by waiting for Taemin instead of tiptoeing to Lucas’s room alone like I had that morning? I didn’t know. I hadn’t thought at all. Waiting for Taemin came naturally. 

I opened my mouth to tell Taemin that he was right— he didn’t have to escort me anywhere— he didn’t have to help me break Mom’s rule forbidding me from talking to Lucas outside of performances— but I bit my tongue when he pulled his phone from his pocket. 

“We should just text Jongin from the comfort of our own room,” he suggested, “and he can share his phone with Lucas.”

We. 

Why was that word taking my breath away? 

I shook my head like that would shake the blush from my face. Bringing Kai into this was the last thing I wanted to do. What if he was involved with Baekhyun’s scheme? It seemed unlikely, but I didn’t know what was going on with EXO; maybe they were desperate. How would he react if he learned that Mom was the idol who never debuted? Would that apprehensive, disapproving shadow return to his eyes the next time he looked at me? 

Sensing my discomfort even when I didn’t voice it, Taemin tossed his phone onto my bed and offered a smile that promised, “Jongin won’t tell anyone, and he won’t think less of you, or your mom, or Donghae. You don’t have to text him if you don’t want to— we can walk down to their room— but I don’t think we should talk about these secrets out loud where others could hear.” 

Objectively, it was smarter to borrow Taemin’s trust in Kai than risk being caught by Mom or other members on our walk down the hall to discuss secrets that weren’t even ours. It was smarter to borrow Taemin’s phone than try to find a moment alone with Lucas to discuss private matters where others could overhear and misinterpret as they always did. 

“Okay.” After grabbing Taemin’s phone from the foot of my bed, I sat with my back against a tower of pillows piled by the headboard. Somehow, probably because of the word ‘we,’ I believed that Taemin would follow. 

Instead, Taemin crawled into his own bed light-years away. I probably should have let him. I probably should have learned to accept the distance. But I didn’t. 

Maybe he didn’t know that I wanted to be close to him. Maybe I hadn’t made that desire clear enough. Maybe he wanted to hear me ask, voice wavering, “What ever happened to your promise to hold me after the concert, Taemin?”

Maybe he wanted to see the blush that accompanied my true smile when he climbed into that space next to me— the space he filled that morning, the place I hoped he would fill every night for the rest of the tour, the place I hoped he would never leave— while promising, “I’m here. Go on and text Jongin.” 

I wouldn’t have known what to say to Kai even if Taemin wasn’t distracting me just by existing nearby. Unable to avoid his gaze, I pressed the phone into Taemin’s hand and admitted, “I don’t know how to talk to Kai.” 

And Taemin laughed the same unrestrained laugh from that morning as he laid his head on my shoulder and texted Kai on my behalf. After that, I can’t remember holding my own heart ever again.

[rayatii]

A (somehow both very biased and not very opinionated) review of the Met orchestra musicians concert “Song to the Moon” from February 21, 2021:

I had been bothering my Tumblr followers with my excitement over this event yesterday, so it felt only right for me to stop procrastinating and give an attempt for a review of the whole thing; I think this is actually my first time writing a lengthy review ever, and it will probably sound naïve and be an embarrassment for me in the future.

It started around 10 PM where I live. I sat in my bed with my computer while eating chocolate in order to stay awake throughout the whole thing, and trying not to spill any pieces on the sheets, excitedly waiting for this event, having actually bought myself a fifteen-buck ticket about three weeks prior with my parents’ credit card (they didn’t bat an eye when I asked their permission), happily knowing that the money was not going to end up in the pockets of the undeserving Met management.

Given the shitty Lebanese Wi-Fi and the fact that this was a livestream, I had been worried that I might miss significant chunks and get upset over the fact. The stream did glitch a few times for me during the first number (mainly because I had my computer on my constantly-moving knees, before settling it down next to me on the bed), but otherwise it never failed me.

But let’s get on with the review. The livestream began with a title card representing an animation of a lunar eclipse, displaying the title “Song to the Moon”. The concert started with a performance of Antonín Dvořák’s String Quintet No. 2 in G Major, Op. 77 by members of the Met orchestra. (actually, given that this is a Met musicians concert, I feel that they ought to be rightfully credited; Nancy Wu, 1st violin [for this piece], Bruno Eicher, 2nd violin [for this piece], Désirée Elsevier, viola, Kari Jane Docter, cello, and Leigh Mesh, double bass.)

I actually listened to a recording of this piece in preparation a few days prior, just so you guys know. Obviously, there were a few slightly flat notes that were played, but overall this was quite a pleasant rendition, and I still have the theme from the 2nd movement stuck in my head as I’m writing this. What I also liked was that at one point (i.e. when I was actually paying attention in that area) I could actually hear the notes being played by the double bass quite clearly, at least compared to the other recording that I had listened to.

Next on the program, the musicians were joined by soprano Angela Gheorghiu (i.e. my main reason for actually purchasing the ticket), who performed all the way from the Athenaeum of Bucharest, Romania, [1st instance of Raya uselessly gushing] looking ethereal in that shot that was shown of her just walking inside the building wearing that white dress and flowing cape, before the actual performance. Just a warning for you guys here; I love Gheorghiu (actually, it’s a bit of a celebrity “crush”), so please expect a little bit of somewhat controlled gushing here and there (partly physical appearance-wise, which are indicated by the bold, and which I deeply hate myself for). This part of the review is causing me even more anxiety for that reason.

She performed on the stage of a theater that was practically empty besides the pianist. She sang in two languages I do not understand at all, which helped me a bit with not getting too distracted by pronunciation. [2nd instance of Raya uselessly gushing] Before I get into what y’all actually came for, I just wanted to get it out of my system about how she had this appearance that defined “has aged, aged really well”. She had this kind of mature beauty, especially with her makeup, that seemed to give me the overall vibes of a pleasant middle-aged auntie. (well, this was very difficult embarrassing to write) Even her singing voice had this sound that can be described as having this sort of “mature” quality blended with the whole fact of her overall sound being “hers”. I hope I have made myself clear.

Okay, gushing finished for now, let’s move on with the review!

Apparently the footage taken in Bucharest and the one taken in New York were both filmed separately. I found it really mind-blowing how the audio of both got synchronized so perfectly.

The first gem Gheorghiu sang was an arrangement of “Tatăl nostru”; basically an early-19th-century musical setting of the Lord’s Prayer by Anton Pann that is still used to this day in the Romanian Orthodox Church (totally NOT reading off the PDF for the program notes provided on the website). I had obviously never heard this piece before; I had tried to (VERY lazily) look it up a bit, but to no avail. I unfortunately don’t remember much from this performance apart from everything mentioned before, but what I do know is that was rendered really epic thanks to the participation of principal Met percussionist Gregory Zuber alongside the string players.

Next was performed the aria after which the whole concert was named, the incredibly famous “Měsíčku na nebi hlubokém” (aka “Song to the Moon”) by Dvořák again, from the opera Rusalka. This version was actually arranged by the violist Elsevier, who is among the musicians who retired from the Met during the pandemic. And it was indeed a beautiful arrangement! Now, unlike “Tatăl nostru”, which I virtually knew nothing about, I love this aria and know it quite well, so I did pay attention to some of the pronunciation; but then again, I do not speak Czech, so it didn’t matter much. Overall, Gheorghiu’s rendition was not perfect (I thinnnnnnnnk there were some notes that were a little bit out of tune? but there was vibrato that also touched the right tone and so I couldn’t tell), and I would certainly not imagine it within the full context of Rusalka the opera (see what I noted above concerning the quality of her voice), but that did not stop me from finding it quite beautiful.

It felt so weird not to hear any applause after each number, and so I could not help but clap after each gem, even though no one could hear me.

After the concert wrapped up, the audience got to watch a chat session between Gheorghiu and Met horn player Barbara Jöstlein Currie, where they talked about how this whole thing came to be (so apparently there was Instagram DM’ing between the two that was involved in the preparation?), before the five string players (which actually include two married couples!) whose music we heard earlier joined in. So unlike the concert, which was all pre-recorded, this was a Zoom session being streamed live. [3rd instance of Raya uselessly gushing] Gheorghiu’s speaking voice sounds radically different from her singing voice, and I can tell English is not her primary language, but that’s just something useless I wanted to include, on which I have zero strong feelings. In contrast to the pre-recorded concert, here she was responsible for me writing in The Balcony Seats Discord server earlier today about how “you know you have aged well when you end up looking a bit like Morticia Addams”, especially with the makeup. [gushing done]

The whole discussion hinged on the concept of “Met family”, and I found the whole interaction between Gheorghiu and the musicians just very very sweet, a star singer and musicians in the pit seeing each other as equals, as family. It’s not every day that I see that (but then again, my background is severely limited, so what do I know). Among the relatively unimportant things the convo touched on that stick with me, in no particular order, are:

Gheorghiu apparently married on the stage of the Met because the guy from the City Hall lost their papers and I never knew that??? (but then again, I never directly research info about my hyperfixations because I get overwhelmed) Everyone had a nice laugh at that recollection.

She got into this whole profession mainly to sing at the Met. Also the whole deal of her making L*vine cry and making her debut at a young age for a star singer.

Everyone relating to the feeling of going home at night after a concert, and not being able to go to sleep because you still have adrenaline flowing through you. As someone who does performing arts, I also relate to that on a moderate degree.

Family life talks.

Gheorghiu mentioning how she can’t work with a director who’s like “your character does that because that’s what I decided” because something something harmony? I can’t remember; I’m pretty sure I’m misquoting. But that’s basically the equivalent of “my house, my rules” (”my production, my interpretation” in that case, lol) imo, so can’t object too much.

Something about playing the finale of Götterdämmerung led the musicians to humorously throw in the idea of Gheorghiu singing Brünnhilde as her next role, and she went all “nah” to that, also humorously.

This led to her admitting that she’s not the biggest fan of Wagner’s music (though she would consider singing Elsa); saying that she’d travel back in time to tell Wager to stop writing these interminable phrases, to just get to the point (I’m not really into Wagner either, so I don’t completely disagree). Also, she believes that Wagner is difficult to sing, and that singers who nail Wagner tend to end up singing only Wagner (here, I think it depends, but there is a point somewhere in here).

She doesn’t seem to like singing acapella/without music very much, which also led her to record some sAcRiLEgiOuS versions of Orthodox worship songs, which you’re apparently not supposed to sing with music.

She sang something like “goodnight, goodnight” (idk) at the very end, it was cute.

To go back to the important stuff, Gheorghiu apparently wrote directly to the Met donors, asking to help in any way, because she wanted to set an example for other people by doing the right thing, and to help what she sees as her “family”, as mentioned above. I had heard some stories about her diva reputation (and she does seem to enjoy attention and stuff, from what I’ve seen myself), but overall she seems like a pretty good person. Mainly mentioning that because as y’all know I’m autistic and can’t tell intricate body language and stuff, plus my very strong belief that good person >>>>>>> great performer. (but my dear friends say that loving her is valid, so I guess I’m safe from too much disappointment. what am I even writing).

And that’s it for my incredibly long and uselessly detailed and almost incoherent and somewhat gushy review, which took me nearly 3 hours to write (and for which I may or may not have replayed a little bit of the stream just to get one bit of info right), and which will, again, probably embarrass me for the rest of my puny life, but which I could not not let out into the void of operablr.

(There were also moments earlier today where I was fantasizing about being interviewed on that very Zoom meeting for the scene-and-duet I composed back in January in response to the Met’s poor treatment of its musicians)

I guess what I can take from this post is: never write a review again, Raya!

[snicketsleuth]

What is “The Great Unknown”?

Who is it? What is it? Does it even matter? There is no greater mystery than the nature of the unknowable.

"We saw that on a radar screen," Violet remembered. "Captain Widdershins refused to tell us what it was." "My brother used to call it 'The Great Unknown,'" Kit said, clasping her belly as the baby kicked violently. "I was terrified, Baudelaires.” [The End, Chapter Thirteen]

The basis of the theory rests on a Doylist perspective as it tries to rationalize the relevance of “All the Wrong Questions” pertaining to “A Series Of Unfortunate Events”. Daniel Handler had to be careful while writing the second series as he was juggling with two conflicting goals:

The nature of the question-mark was a symbolic representation of Death and the Unknowable, and had to remain that way in order for “A Series Of Unfortunate Events” not to be ruined,

Fans were disappointed by the number of unresolved plotholes in “A Series Of Unfortunate Events” and Daniel Handler wanted to throw them a bone by expanding the lore and providing more hints to these mysteries.

So there was only one compromise possible: add more details to the lore of the Great Unknown but in a way which would leave the final fate of the characters in “The End” still very ambiguous. That was the mission “All The Wrong Questions” had to accomplish. Yet it’s still very ambiguous whether the infamous Bombinating Beast really is the question-mark which shows up on the sonar screens of the submarine in “The Grim Grotto” and “The End”. So why write “All The Wrong Questions” at all?

This article posits that there are more connections between the plot of both series than initially believed, if one digs hard enough. We just have to follow the clues to paint a more global picture. Here are all the smaller mysteries we have to investigate before rendering our final verdict:

How many question marks are in “The Grim Grotto” and “The End”?

Why are Ellington’s eyebrows shaped like question marks?

Was the question-mark-shaped entity a submarine or an animal?

To whom did the Carmelita octopus-shaped submarine belong?

What exactly happened to Fernald and Fiona?

More after the cut.

NB : This article is dedicated to @snicketstrange (a.k.a. Jean Lúcio). Please check out his Tumblr page for more amazing theories about the mind of Daniel Handler (and incidentally Lemony Snicket). There’s also a Youtube page (Link) if you speak Portuguese. Jean, thank you for your invaluable help in researching this topic, particularly regarding the nature of sonars.

How many question marks are in “The Grim Grotto” and “The End”?

Surprisingly, I have issues with this line of reasoning. Not because there isn’t a connection, but because there is evidence for two Bombinating Beasts showing up in “All The Wrong Questions”:

The proper Bombinating Beast from the legends of Stain’d-by-the-Sea (which we will name OBB, as in “Original”),

The genetic monstrosity created by Hangfire through experiments (which we will name CBB, as in “Copied” or “Clone”), which he planned to use to impersonate the OBB.

It’s pretty much established at this point. We see in “Shouldn’t You Be In School” that the CBB was still “immature” according to Ellington, and it’s very much implied that the tadpole who bit Lemony’s finger in “When Did You See Her Last” was the CBB at an even earlier stage. A significant amount of time happens between the two books, to the point Handler released a spin-off called “File Under: 13 Suspicious Incidents” to account for what the characters did in the meantime. Supposedly the CBB had time to grow. So it wouldn’t make sense for Stain’d-by-the-Sea to have legends about the terrifying Bombinating Beast if that thing was just a tadpole in recent history.

How Hangfire managed to create the CBB is left unexplained by Daniel Handler. It still seems to be somewhat related to the OBB because the whistle inside the statue seems to work on it, so there’s something similar about the way the two creatures function. My guess is that, though the OBB was lost to time, some fossilized eggs remained and Hangfire managed to find and hatch one. Much ado is made about the book “Caviar: Salty Jewel of the Tasty Sea” which used to be in Dewey’s library in Stain’d-by-the-Sea. All we know about the book is that it has a chapter dedicated to the tanks being used when the sturgeons are young. My guess is that the book is where Hangfire found the necessary information.

So the question remains: who showed up in “The Grim Grotto” and “The End”: the OBB or the CBB? Since one is essentially the child of the other, and since the entity shows up no less than three times (twice in “The Grim Grotto”, once in “The End”), there’s a possibility that both the OBB and the CBB showed up in separate instances and that characters mistakenly thought it was the same entity each time.

Why are Ellington’s eyebrows shaped like question marks?

Believe it or not, TBB is only compared to a question mark once in the entire series.

Supposedly sailors still saw the Bombinating Beast, swimming with its body curled up like an underwater question mark, although with the sea drained, I couldn’t imagine that this could be true, at least not anymore. [Who Could That Be At This Hour ?, Chapter Four]

Interestingly it’s rather Ellington who is compared to a question mark, far more often than the Beast. Usually next to a mention of a smile which “could mean anything”.

“Hello,” she said, “I’m Ellington Feint,” and I sat up to get a better look at her. It was not so dark that I couldn’t see her strange, curved eyebrows, each one coiled over like a question mark. Green eyes she had, and hair so black it made the night look pale. She had long fingers, with nails just as black, and they poked out of a black shirt with long, smooth sleeves. And right before she started climbing down the ladder, I saw her smile, shadowy in the moonlight. It was a smile that might have meant anything. She was a little older than me, or maybe just a little taller. I followed her down. [Who Could That Be At This Hour?, Chapter Seven]

But instead I just looked at the person with her back to me. Next to her were a large, striped suitcase and an oddly shaped case perfect for holding an old-fashioned record player. Hanging from her shoulder was a green purse shaped like a long, zippered tube as she stood and looked at the shelves filled with stenciled bags of coffee. Then she turned around, and I paid attention to her dark, dark hair, and her eyebrows, each one coiled over like a question mark, and her green eyes underneath. “Lemony Snicket,” she said. “Ellington Feint,” I said, and it was only then that I saw that smile of hers, the one that could have meant anything. [Who Could That Be At This Hour?, Chapter Eleven]

If you want to know the truth, I was thinking about Ellington Feint, a girl with strange, curved eyebrows like question marks, and green eyes, and a smile that might have meant anything. [When Did You See Her Last?, Chapter One]

And there was a girl standing in front of me. Her green eyes were the same, but her hair wasn’t black, not now. It was blond instead, so blond it looked white. Her fingers were still slender, with long black nails again, and over her eyes were strange eyebrows curved like question marks. She was using the same smile, too. It was a smile I liked. It was a smile that might have meant anything. [When Did You See Her Last?, Chapter Seven]

The something else was a girl, taller than I was or older than I was or both. She had curious eyebrows, curved and coiled like question marks, and she had a smile that might have meant anything. [Shouldn’t You Be In School?, Chapter One]

“Are you awake?” I asked me, but it wasn’t me who was talking. It hadn’t been all along. I turned my head and ached and blinked and found myself staring into a pair of green eyes. They blinked below a pair of eyebrows curled up like question marks, and after she blinked, the girl gave me a smile that might have meant anything. [Shouldn’t You Be In School?, Chapter Eight]

Ellington moved her mug to the center of the table. Her eyebrows, curved like question marks, felt like they belonged to all the questions in my mind, and then she gave me her smile, the one that might have meant anything. [Shouldn’t You Be In School, Chapter Nine]

“It’s all a big question mark,” Jake said, with a grim grin, and I gave him a fraught frown to match. Question marks made me think of Ellington Feint’s curved eyebrows, and the smile she always gave me, that could have meant anything. It made me unsteady to think of all of it, and the train rattling made me feel unsteadier still. [Why Is This Night Different From All Other Nights?, Chapter Seven]

“This is the only place on the train where you can find coffee,” I said, and showed her the tiny folded cup. She raised her curious eyebrows, shaped like question marks, and finally gave me the smile she always gave me, the smile that could have meant anything. [Why Is This Night Different From All Other Nights?, Chapter Eight]

I reached out to her, and she moved violently away from me. I had to grab the chain that bound her hands, in order to look into her eyes. Her curled eyebrows had always reminded me of question marks, but now they just looked furious. You’ll never see Ellington Feint smile again, I thought to myself, but it was a moment before I could bring myself to reply. “I hoped it wasn’t true,” I said finally. [Why Is This Night Different From All Other Nights?, Chapter Thirteen]

So at this point it looks like Lemony/Handler is throwing far more clues towards Ellington having something to do with the mysterious question mark featured in “A Series Of Unfortunate Events” rather than TBB itself. Why is that?

On one hand, there’s some semblance of symbolism going on there. In Lemony’s adolescent mind, he’s the detective and Ellington is the designated “femme fatale” of noir literature, somebody dangerous you can’t trust or understand, and who usually has hidden and nefarious motives. So of course she’d be associated with question marks and an undecipherable mind. She represents the Unknown, and the primal fear which goes with that.

Except readers end up realizing that Lemony has it wrong. Although Ellington lies often, her motives are neither hidden nor difficult to understand: she’s a traumatized child desperate to find her father. That’s what she presents herself as and she acts accordingly. It’s actually Lemony who fits the role of the “homme fatal” to Ellington: his motives are shrouded in mystery because of his association with VFD (other youngsters in the series call him out on it) and he ends up betraying Ellington for his own ends. Lemony is essentially projecting his own duplicity and manipulative nature on Ellington. She’s a mirror to his own sins.

So if Ellington is a clue to understand the true nature of the entity, it’s not just a clue which relates to the plot. It also functions as a key to understanding the symbolism and psychology of the entity. Our educated guess, therefore, would be that characters assume a lot of things about the entity which are just plain wrong, and that they are projecting their own identity on it.

Was the question-mark-shaped entity a submarine or an animal?

The following reasoning was helpfully worked out for me by Jean Lúcio (aka @snicketstrange on Tumblr), a prominent member of the Brazilian Snicket fandom. What he realized is that there are two kinds of sonars: active (emitting a sound and listening to its echo) and passive (listening to sounds in the vicinity). Both have merits: the active one is more efficient as it will detect objects for you even if there are silent, and the passive one is more discreet as it allows you to stay silent.

So in “The Grim Grotto” it seems that both Olaf and Widdershins assume the entity uses a passive sonar. Both of them insist that the people inside the Queequeg/Carmelita do not make any sound in order to remain undetected by the entity.

Why does that matter, anyway?

Well, as it turns out, some animals do have a “bio-sonar”… but there is no instance of a passive bio-sonar. All animals capable of echolocation function according to the principles of an active bio-sonar. They emit a sound and listen to its echo. It doesn’t matter if an item in their vicinity is silent, they will detect it all the same.

So we can infer two things from Juan Lúcio’s reasoning:

Widdershins was not lying, he sincerely believed the entity was or could be a submarine. If he knew for sure that the entity was an animal, he would not bother telling his crewmates to stay silent as it would be pointless. As a submariner, it can be assumed he knew how the bio-sonar of large marine animals functioned. Olaf is a trickier case as he’s been shown to be book-dumb in that he’s ignorant about many things. But his behavior regarding the entity is extremely similar to Widdershins so it’s likely he had the same line of reasoning.

The entity definitely detected both the Queequeg and the Carmelita… and chose not to attack them. Which would at least imply that the entity is far less malevolent or aggressive than initially suspected. Both submarines were spared.

So all of a sudden we have a lot more information about the entity.

This is where the constant comparison of Ellington to a question mark starts making sense. There’s a clear parallel between the way Ellington and the entity are treated:

Lemony is a liar and a manipulator, so he assumes that Ellington is a liar and a manipulator.

Widdershins and Olaf are shady people piloting a submarine, so they assume the entity is a submarine piloted by somebody shady.

So that’s what we can at least assume about the entity: the first guess is usually wrong. Confronted with the Unknown, the brain starts going crazy with theories which reveal our deepest insecurities. This is how bigotry works: when people are confronted with something they neither know nor understand, they assume the worst about it by default, because, deep down, they know on a psychological level that they are themselves capable of horrible, terrible things. It’s a survival instinct to assume the worst about what we don’t know. And one of the main themes of “A Series Of Unfortunate Events” is bigotry.

To whom did the Carmelita octopus-shaped submarine belong?

The origin of Olaf’s submarine is one of “The Grim Grotto”’s most easily forgotten mysteries, but it’s enough of a riddle to warrant suspicion. The nefarious villain seems to acquire a deadly submarine at the moment he needs it the most. More surprisingly, it seems that Olaf acquired it in a very short amount of time: barely a day goes by between the last moment the Baudelaire orphans see him at the top of Mount Fraught and the time they meet him again in “The Grim Grotto”. Of course it’s possible he may have acquired that submarine much earlier and simply put it in storage somewhere, but there’s a catch to that explanation: the submarine requires the hard labor of several child slaves to move. And we see that some of the children moving the oars of the submarine are the Snow Scouts whom Count Olaf kidnapped at the end of “The Slippery Slope”. So it would have been tricky for Count Olaf to move the submarine anywhere without the extra child slaves… which points to Olaf acquiring the submarine only recently.

And what do we know about that submarine? Not much.

"This submarine is one of the greatest things I've ever stolen," he bragged. "It has everything I'll need to defeat V.F.D. once and for all. It has a sonar system, so I can rid the seas of V.F.D. submarines. It has an enormous flyswatter, so I can rid the skies of V.F.D. planes. It has a lifetime supply of matches, so I can rid the world of V.F.D. headquarters. It has several cases of wine that I plan to drink up myself, and a closet full of very stylish outfits for my girlfriend. And best of all, it has plenty of opportunities for children to do hard labor! Ha ha hedonism!" [The Grim Grotto, Chapter Nine]

"We'll see about that," Olaf said, grinning wickedly. "I'm going to lock all of you in the brig, which is the official seafaring term for Jail." "We know what the brig is," Klaus said. "Then you know it's not a very pleasant place," the villain said. "The previous owner used it to hold traitors captive, and I see no reason to break with tradition." [The Grim Grotto, Chapter Nine]

It’s unlikely that Count Olaf stole the submarine from either side of V.F.D. At this point in the series, Olaf is still loyal to his bosses (The Woman With Hair But No Beard and the Man With Beard But No Hair) so if they had a submarine and he needed it for a scheme, he would have just asked for it. Since he was looking for the sugar bowl and the Queequeg, they had no reason to refuse him. It’s also unlikely that the submarine was stolen from the “noble” side of V.F.D. because Captain Widdershins seems to recognize it as a threat immediately when its icon shows up on the Queequeg’s sonar screen, and doesn’t contradict the Baudelaire orphans when they assume it’s a submarine piloted by Count Olaf. If Olaf had stolen the octopus-shaped submarine from the other side of the Schism, Captain Widdershins could have mentioned it in passing. In fact, the Captain mentions a number of “gone” submarines who were built by V.F.D. and doesn’t include the octopus-shaped one in the lot. Which implies its origin is altogether different.

"The amount of treachery in this world is enormous!" he cried. "Aye! Think of the crafts we saw on the sonar screen! Think of Count Olaf's enormous submarine, and the even more enormous one that chased it away! Aye! "There's always something more enormous and more terrifying on our tails! Aye! And so many of the noble submarines are gone! Aye! You think the Herman Melville suits are the only noble uniforms in the world? There used to be volunteers with P G. Wodehouse on their uniforms, and Carl Van Vechten. There was Comyns and Cleary and Archy and Mehitabel. But now volunteers are scarce! So the best we can do is one small noble thing! Aye! Like retrieving the sugar bowl from the Gorgonian Grotto, no matter how grim it sounds! Aye! Remember my personal philosophy! He who hesitates is lost!" [The Grim Grotto, Chapter Five]

To whom did that submarine belong before Count Olaf stole it, then? And why does the Captain seem to have a passing knowledge of its history?

What we know so far is that the previous owner:

Was evil enough to use child slaves,

Was obsessed with traitors within its own organizations to the point he had secured a place to lock up suspicious members,

Was wary of aerial threats,

Had gathered an enormous amount of matches to light a lot of fires,

Had someone in the crew who liked wine,

Had an octopus-shaped costume for some reason.

There happens to be another organization in Lemony Snicket’s world which fits nicely into this description: Inhumane Society. Let’s go down the list:

Hangfire uses child slaves in “Shouldn’t You Be In School”;

Nurse Dander keeps Ellington on watch in “When Did You See Her Last”

V.F.D. has Hector investigate from his balloon as part of its plan in Stain’d-by-the-Sea in “Who Could That Be At This Hour?” and “Why Is This Night Different From All Other Nights?”

Hangfire commits arson in “Shouldn’t You Be In School?”

Ellington mentions that Armstrong Feint used to like wine in “When Did You See Her Last?” and indeed we see Hangfire has poured himself a glass of wine when Lemony meets him at the end of the book,

Stain’d-by-the-Sea’s industry revolves around octopi and Hangfire is obsessed with the town.

So it’s tempting to believe that Hangfire built this octopus-shaped submarine for Inhumane Society back in its heydays. Why didn’t we see this submarine in “All The Wrong Questions”, you ask? Well, there is no sea in Stain’d-by-the-Sea by the time Lemony arrives, and almost the entire series happens there, so naturally Hangfire had no use for the submarine there. However Hangfire does a lot of background scheming and his plan is years into the making, so it’s reasonable to suppose that a submarine could have been useful to him in other places. Hangfire is persuaded that Killdeer Fields was flooded because Stain’d-by-the-Sea was drained. How did he come to that conclusion? Well, maybe he investigated the area of Killdeer Fields with a submarine to track down the origin of the flooding. It’s also possible he spent some years roaming the ocean in a submarine to look for the OBB or its eggs, before getting back to Stain’d-by-the-Sea to create the CBB. There are a lot of possibilities. The submarine was probably put in storage somewhere in Killdeer Fields for later use.

So it’s highly possible that Olaf stole the submarine from whatever remains of Inhumane Society, as Hangfire is dead by the time the events of “The Grim Grotto” occurs. We know that Beatrice and Olaf were investigating a “strange forest” at the end of “All The Wrong Questions”, and we see Lemony immediately stepping into the Clusterous Forest with the Bombinating Beast statue. Coincidence? Probably not. He went in to reunite with Olaf and Beatrice and decide what to do with the statue. Which means Olaf got a lot of intel about Inhumane Society from Lemony. Widdershins is also very much involved in Lemony’s investigation in “When Did You See Her Last?”, so he would also know a lot about Inhumane Society. That would explain why he seems to know so much about the octopus-shaped submarine and who is piloting it.

What exactly happened to Fernald and Fiona?

On a last note, we also have to understand what exactly happened to Fernald and Fiona after “The Grim Grotto”. At the end of the book, it seems that Fiona has truly betrayed the Baudelaire orphans and joined Olaf’s side of the Schism for good. But that’s not congruent with what happens next.

"These people are associates of ours," Dewey said fiercely. "They won't fail us." "Ha!" Count Olaf said. "You can't rely on associates. More comrades have failed me than I can count. Why, Hooky and Fiona double-crossed me just yesterday, and let you brats escape! Then they double-crossed me again and stole my submarine!" "We can rely on our friends," Violet said quietly, "more than you can rely on yours.” [The Penultimate Peril, Chapter Nine]

Fiona’s second betrayal is as sudden as the first. It took less than twenty-four hours for her and Fernald to escape with Olaf’s submarine. Why? Fernald and Fiona change loyalties twice throughout “The Grim Grotto”, but they appeared to have made up their minds. Interestingly, Olaf seems to conflate this act of betrayal with Fiona’s decision to let the Baudelaire orphans escape. Which is interesting because as far as we’re aware it was not Fernald who did that, only his sister. But Count Olaf believes that letting the Baudelaire orphans escape was a concerted plan on their part. Was it?

Well, let’s put it this way: without Fiona’s intervention, the Baudelaire orphans were pretty much screwed. Count Olaf had managed to get the Queequeg in his clutches. The only reason they even managed to escape is because Olaf foolishly left Fiona without supervision after he had ordered her to emprison the Baudelaire orphans in the brig. But that’s only because he trusted her.

Now let’s pause and think: what would have happened if Fiona hadn’t betrayed the Baudelaire orphans? From Fiona’s and Fernald’s perspective, it was extremely unlikely that the Baudelaire orphans had enough time to find an antidote for Sunny, cure her, and escape. Esme had already realized Fiona and Fernald were out of the brig, and it was only a matter a time before she understood they were lying to her. Time was running out and as soon as Olaf realized Fernald had let the Baudelaire orphans escape from the Carmelita to the Queequeg, things would take a turn for the worse. Fiona pretended to defect to the other side of the Schism to stall for time. It’s pretty explicit in the passage where she lies to Esme that this is a spur-of-the-moment decision. Things were not looking great for Fernald’s initial plan to escape with Fiona and her friends. It was dangerous and not really feasible.

So a reasonable person, trapped in such a situation, would naturally change plans. The issue is that by that time Fiona and Fernald were busy diverting Esme and didn’t have time to warn the Baudelaire orphans that they had changed strategies. Here’s what Fiona and Fernald probably decided off-screen while Klaus and Violet were busy curing Sunny:

Fiona would pretend defecting to Olaf’s side for much longer than anticipated,

Fiona would not tell the Baudelaire orphans that it was a ruse, for their shock and horror would make Olaf and Esme believe that the defection was genuine,

Using that newfound trust, Fiona would let the Baudelaire orphans escape with the Queequeg in the nick of time,

As soon as the Baudelaire orphans escaped, Fiona and Fernald would use the chaos and confusion to steal the octopus-shaped submarine for themselves.

All in all, a much greater plan. And it has an added benefit, too: capturing the octopus-shaped submarine would allow Fiona and Fernald to free the slave rowers. Such a noble deed would be enough to convince Fiona to let her friends hate her.

There is some reason to believe that Fiona and Fernald indeed freed the child slaves because Kit Snicket never mentions an octopus-shaped submarine in “The End”. It’s as if it disappeared. Fiona and Fernald apparently found their way back to Captain Widdershins in some other way. Probably aerial.

You're volunteers, ready to face the challenges of a desperate and perplexing world. You must go to the Hotel Denouement, and Quigley must go to the self-sustaining hot air mobile home, and I must go to a coral formation of dubious quality where an inflatable raft should be waiting. But if Quigley manages to construct a net big enough to capture all those eagles, and I manage to contact Captain Widdershins and have him meet me at a certain clump of seaweed, we'll be here on Thursday. Hector should manage to land his self-sustaining hot air mobile home on the roof, even with all of us aboard." [The Penultimate Peril, Chapter Two]

But the Baudelaire orphans, of course, had no living parents, and their closest friends were high in the sky, in a self-sustaining hot air mobile home, battling eagles and a terrible henchman who had hooks instead of hands, so the acquaintance of Dewey Denouement, and the comforting words he had uttered, were a blessing. [The Penultimate Peril, Chapter Eight]

"So do our friends," Violet said. "They're flying across the sea as we speak, and by tomorrow, their self-sustaining hot air mobile home will land on the roof." "Only if they've managed to survive my eagles," Count Olaf said with a growl. [The Penultimate Peril, Chapter Nine]

So it’s interesting that by the time Olaf arrives in “The Penultimate Peril” he knows Fiona and Fernald escaped with the octopus-shaped submarine and still believes his plan to take the hot-air mobile home with trained eagles will succeed. Why is Fernald enacting Olaf’s plan even though he’s already defected?

A possibility is that Fernald and Fiona were on their way to help the Quagmires and Hector fight the eagles, but that Isadora and Duncan, recognizing the face of the hook-handed man, flipped out and attacked him first. It’s unlikely that Fernald ever truly tried to harm the Quagmires directly as this conflicts with how Kit Snicket describes the incident:

"I failed you," Kit said sadly, and coughed. "Quigley managed to reach the self-sustaining hot air mobile home, just as I hoped he would, and helped his siblings and Hector catch the treacherous eagles in an enormous net, while I met Captain Widdershins and his stepchildren." "Fernald and Fiona?" Klaus said, referring to the hook-handed man who had once worked for Count Olaf, and the young woman who had broken his heart. "But they betrayed him–and us." "The captain had forgiven the failures of those he had loved," Kit said, "as I hope you will forgive mine, Baudelaires. We made a desperate attempt to repair the Queequeg and reach the Quagmires as their aerial battle continued, and arrived just in time to see the balloons of the self-sustaining hot air mobile home pop under the cruel beaks of the escaping eagles. They tumbled down to the surface of the sea, and crashed into the Queequeg. In moments we were all castaways, treading water in the midst of all the items that survived the wreck.” [The End, Chapter Thirteen]

It’s obvious we’re missing much of the story there as the Baudelaire orphans are not direct witnesses to it, but it’s obvious Fernald truly put his villainous ways behind him. The absence of the octopus-shaped submarine in this tale supports that. If it had been present, the circumstances of the Queequeg crew would have been much less desperate. Instead of staying on a sinking and damaged submarine, Captain Widdershins and his allies would have just gone to the octopus-shaped one. It’s possible Fernald and Fiona couldn’t use that submarine anymore because they didn’t have enough rowers after they freed the children.

Connecting the dots

We see that just by reading “The Grim Grotto” and “The End” back in 2006, careful readers would have been able to work out that the entity is more likely to be an animal and to be less aggressive than initially believed. That’s pretty much the best way to work out Widdershins’ change of behavior regarding the entity between both books. “All The Wrong Questions” was only meant to provide more clues to a mystery whose solution had already been carefully implied, and to expand on the mythology of the entity.

Here’s an attempt at explaining what actually went down during “The Grim Grotto” and “The End”.

Following the events of “All The Wrong Questions”, Ellington eventually escaped from the prison cell with Kit Snicket thanks to the skeleton key in Ellington’s bag. Kit and Ellington, before going their own ways, exchanged a good deal of information. Kit Snicket could not help noticing Ellington acted extremely angry towards Lemony and VFD in general.

In the following years, Ellington worked tirelessly to recover her father’s remaining assets as well as uncovering the secrets of Inhumane Society. Though the book Caviar: Salty Jewel of the Tasty Sea was destroyed, she had had the opportunity to read some chapters Lemony hadn’t. No one knew about the CBB more than her. With some effort, she managed to find the animal hiding in the Clusterous Forest, as well as the Bombinating Beast statue that Lemony had buried there. With the statue, she was now in control of the CBB. Eventually she managed to track down an octopus-shaped submarine which used to belong to Hangfire, only to lose it to Count Olaf.

As Olaf escaped with the submarine (now rebaptized the Carmelita), Ellington pursued him. She used the statue to control the CBB, ordering it to seize the Carmelita. The CBB first encountered the Queequeg in close vicinity to the Queequeg. Unsure whether these two crafts were allied with each other, Ellington ordered the CBB to stand down. Captain Widdershins mistook the question-mark shape on their radar for an enemy submarine.  Later, Ellington witnessed the Queequeg being attacked by the Carmelita, and decided to approach the CBB to scare Count Olaf and help the crew of the Queequeg. Count Olaf also assumed the mysterious entity was an enemy submarine.

The Queequeg eventually escaped from the clutches of the Carmelita. While making their way to the Hotel Denouement, Olaf, Esme and Carmelita Spats realized the Baudelaire orphans’ absence and were betrayed by Fernald and Fiona who let the imprisoned youngsters start a mutiny. Ellington followed the entire mutiny from afar. The youngsters were released. Esme, Olaf and Carmelita fled. The octopus-shaped submarine was eventually given back to Ellington Feint who promised to help Fernald and Fiona if they were ever in trouble.

Much later, Fernald and Fiona tried to track down Hector’s hot-air mobile home to warn him of an impending eagle attack. Isadora and Duncan attacked Fernald, believing him to have been sent by Olaf and his allies, which complicated Quigley’s plan to catch the eagles in a big net. Fiona and Fernald ended up landing on the Queequeg which had also been looking for the hot-air mobile home. Hector’s balloon fell down on the Queequeg a short time after that.

Fernald reconciled with his stepfather and told Captain Widdershins about the mysterious woman named Ellington Feint who had helped them with her strange, unidentified submarine craft. Captain Widdershins realized this helpful young woman had been behind the appearance of the question mark on the radar and that the entity hadn’t been hostile after all. Kit Snicket, however, thought differently. She was highly suspicious of Ellington’s intentions and thought she had been using Fernald and Fiona as a bait to find the Queequeg and kill more volunteers.

An argument occurred: as the Queequeg began to sink due to serious damage, the entity came back. Captain Widdershins thought Ellington had sent the CBB to save them, while Kit thought she had sent the CBB to eat them. Kit ended up escaping on her own ship, while the others took their chance with the CBB. But, in an ironic twist of fate, what showed up on their sonar screen may not have been Ellington’s CBB. It could just as easily have been the OBB, which leaves the fates of these characters even more uncertain and perilous.

[aion-rsa]

Every Cyberpunk 2077 Controversy So Far

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Cyberpunk 2077 may be the most anticipated game of 2020 but its long road to release can be measured by numerous controversies that have often attracted the wrong kind of attention.

From delays to questionable tweets, Cyberpunk 2077 can easily be considered one of the most controversial games in recent memory, and it hasn’t even been released yet. While time will tell if Cyberpunk 2077 can “usurp” The Last of Us Part 2 and become 2020’s most divisive game, the project is already at the center of several heated debates that are causing fans to take sides.

If you’re wondering where you stand on the game’s most contested topics, here’s a rundown of every notable Cyberpunk 2077 controversy (so far):

The Numerous Delays and Long Development Time

Believe it or not, there have only been three official Cyberpunk 2077 delays so far and all of them have happened in 2020.

Cyberpunk 2077‘s first official release date was April 16, 2020. While developer CD Projekt Red noted early in the year that the game was “complete and playable,” the studio delayed the game to September 17 as part of an effort to better optimize its performance.

On June 18, the Cyberpunk 2077 team announced via Twitter that the game’s release had been delayed again and was now (at least at that time) scheduled to be released on November 19. Again, CD Projekt Red cited a “huge number of things to iron out” as the reason for the delay.

Finally, on October 27, CD Projekt Red announced that Cyberpunk 2077‘s final release date had been rescheduled for December 10. This time, the team cited not just bug fixes and optimization as the reason for the delay but the challenges presented by their desire to release the game across so many platforms.

Before we dive into some of the other delay related controversies, we should point out that much of the fan frustration regarding Cyberpunk 2077‘s delays are closely related to the fact the game was revealed via a teaser trailer released in 2013. While we don’t know what the status of the game was at that time, the popular perception is that Cyberpunk 2077 has been in development for seven years. That means that each one of the game’s 2020 delays has stung some fans harder than they otherwise may have.

The Crunch Schedule

You can’t talk about Cyberpunk 2077‘s delays without talking about the game’s controversial crunch development schedule.

We’ve covered this topic before in greater detail (you can read our full report on this subject here), but the gist of the situation is that developer CD Projekt Red had previously stated that they would not force the Cyberpunk 2077 team to work through a crunch schedule. In September, though, CD Projekt Red boss Adam Badowski confirmed reports that the studio asked employees to begin working additional hours. In exchange for the extra work, they would be compensated with overtime pay and additional funds offered by the company’s profit-sharing program.

That information triggered two additional debates. The first saw those who opposed the company’s crunch schedule battle those who claimed the company’s employees were being fairly compensated for their extra work. While it was generally agreed the company was compensating its employees for overtime more than other game developers have done in the past (and that some employees anonymously stated they were fine with the schedule), many argued that crunch development is an industry problem which needs to be addressed whenever it appears.

Finally, there’s the matter of the game’s delays. The latest Cyberpunk 2077 delay was confirmed after the report of the company’s crunch schedule had broke. If the insinuation was that the crunch schedule was implemented as a desperate measure intended to ensure the game was released on time, then could CD Projekt Red have skipped the crunch schedule and just delayed the game a little longer?

The PS4/Xbox One Controversy

When news broke that the most recent Cyberpunk 2077 delay was partially attributed to the struggles of launching the game across so many platforms, it didn’t take long for some fans to worry about the PS4 and Xbox One editions of the game.

Why? Well, some people expressed their concern that the previous-gen versions of Cyberpunk 2077 may hinder the day one quality of the next-gen editions. CD Projekt Red has stated that the PS5 and Xbox Series X versions of Cyberpunk 2077 will benefit from day one upgrades, but the “full” next-gen versions of each title will not be available until a later date.

Others had the opposite concern and worried that the next-gen editions of Cyberpunk 2077 would be the “real” versions of the game and that the PS4 and Xbox One versions would suffer from serious performance downgrades. There’s currently no evidence which strongly supports that claim, but it does ring loud at a time when it’s nearly impossible to find a PS5 or Xbox Series X/S.

The Gender Tweet

One of the earlier Cyberpunk 2077 controversies involved this now-deleted tweet from the Cyberpunk 2077 Twitter account:

The tweet itself was sent in the midst of a greater debate over the use of that term and whether or not it had become a way to mock transgender people or those who sympathize with the struggles of transgender people. Basically, there was some concern that the Cyberpunk 2077 team’s use of that term was meant as an insult

CD Projekt Red deleted the tweet and issued the following statement regarding it:

“Sorry to all those offended by one of the responses sent out from our account earlier. Harming anyone was never our intention.”

As some noted at the time, this controversy was amplified by another incident in which GOG (a digital store owned by CD Projekt Red) tweeted a GIF of a Postal character urinating on a tombstone that read “Games Journalism” and “August 28th, 2014.” That date is believed to be a reference to GamerGate.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The Transgender Poster

Arguably the most infamous Cyberpunk 2077 controversy involved this in-game poster:

The poster showcases a transgender model advertising a soda with slogans could be interpreted as references to transgender people. Given that this poster was circulated shortly after the aforementioned tweets, some felt that this was another example of CD Projekt Red using transgender people as a punchline.

In an interview with Polygon, the CD Projekt Red artist who designed this poster, Kasia Redesiuk, explained her thought process behind it.

“Personally, for me, this person is sexy,” Redesiuk said. “I like how this person looks. However, this model is used — their beautiful body is used — for corporate reasons. They are displayed there just as a thing, and that’s the terrible part of it.”

Redesiuk also stated that she had no intentions of directly offending people but did note that she was aware the image was inherently provocative.

“I would say it was never the intention to offend anyone,” Redesiuk said. “However, with this image of an oversexualized person, we did want to show how over-sexualization of people is bad. And that’s it.

The Gender Choice Character Creator

Cyberpunk 2077 would once again find itself at the center of a gender-related controversy, but this one was a bit different than the others.

In an interview with Metro, Cyberpunk 2077 artist Marthe Jonkers explained that the game would not offer simple male and female gender options during the character creation process.

“You don’t choose, ‘I want to be a female or male character’ you now choose a body type,” Jonkers explained. “So you choose your body type and we have two voices, one that’s male sounding, one is female sounding. You can mix and match. You can just connect them any way you want. And then we have a lot of extra skin tones and tattoos and hairstyles. So we really want to give people the freedom to make their own character and play the way they want to play.”

While some felt that this was the company’s attempt to cover up for their previous actions, much of the blowback in this instance came from fans who saw this as an example of the Cyberpunk 2077 team “pandering” to critics. There is currently no information available that suggests the game’s character creation process was drastically altered in response to any such criticisms.

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The Animals and Voodoo Boys

The reveal of Cyberpunk 2077‘s gangs caused some to question whether or not the game was relying on racial stereotypes.

This debate focused on two gangs: The Animals and Voodoo Boys. Some fans felt that the “Animals” name was intended as an insult directed towards a gang that appeared to largely be comprised of people of color. As for the Voodoo Boys, there were concerns that the gang’s name, design, and background were designed to exploit racial and cultural stereotypes.

CD Projekt Red later stated that The Animals is actually a multi-racial gang and that that the initial portrayal of them as a gang that consisted entirely of people of color was based on the specific scenario of the gameplay demo they were showcased in. Cyberpunk 2020‘s creator also offered this response in regards to these controversies:

“As for the Animals–the WHOLE FREAKING POINT is that they think of themselves as POWERFUL, DANGEROUS, WILD ANIMALS. You’d have thought the Lady named ‘Sasquatch’ would have given them a clue…The original Voodoo Boys were a scathing commentary on cultural appropriation. I LOVE the idea that real practitioners of Voudon moved in and took back their turf. And they even got the Creole right…Who the (bleep) do YOU think you are to tell ME whether or not MY creation was done right or not?”

The Microtransactions

Earlier this year, CD Projekt Red’s Adam Kicinski caused a stir by implying that Cyberpunk 2077 would have microtransactions despite previous implications that the game would not.

“We’re never aggressive towards our fans!” Kicinski said during an earnings call. “We treat them fairly and we’re friendly. So of course not – we won’t be aggressive – but you can expect great things to be bought. The goal is to design monetization in a way that makes people happy to spend money. I’m not trying to be cynical or hide something; it’s about creating a feeling of value.”

The Cyberpunk team later clarified that statement somewhat with the following tweet:

Nothing changed. Cyberpunk 2077 is a single player game with zero microtransactions. One single purchase. No tricks. Don't believe the clickbait. https://t.co/qX0iZwsAf2

— Cyberpunk 2077 (@CyberpunkGame) September 7, 2020

The issue of microtransactions is typically controversial in and of itself, but the debate was amplified in this instance by CD Project Red’s apparent “anti-microtransaction” culture and outward consumer-friendly image. Furthermore, Cyberpunk 2077‘s multiplayer has been its own source of controversy due to the mysterious nature of the concept and concerns its development has further delayed the release of the Cyberpunk 2077 campaign.

The First-Person Controversy

It feels so quaint now, but one of the earlier Cyberpunk 2077 controversies involved the game’s first-person perspective.

In 2019, the Cyberpunk 2077 team confirmed the game would largely take place in first-person with third-person angles being used for certain cutscenes and driving sequences. This upset some fans who were not only led to believe the game would be third-person based on early footage (and The Witcher 3) but were concerned by the implications of a first-person game. Namely, they worried that the game would end up being a first-person shooter and that first-person cutscenes would not be nearly as “immersive” as the third-person storytelling featured in The Witcher 3.

Some fans also felt that a first-person perspective would limit the impact of the game’s character customization options, but CD Projekt Red later clarified that you’ll be able to see your character in mirrors and on the inventory screen.

The post Every Cyberpunk 2077 Controversy So Far appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[heizerux]

Battle of the Miraculous (Love Eater and Miracle Queen) Analysis (Few Translations included)

“Some people may have their problems, but at the end everything will be okay.”

—Marinette Dupain-Cheng (Miracle Queen Monologue)

(Disclaimer: Budgets and animation production play a huge part in how episodes are made and released . . . but this time it was straight up the network’s choice and a bad one :| Also I’m fully aware Chat Blanc and Felix may answer a few extra things, but for now I’ll just talk about what I’ve seen.)

I’ll be going over the finale in the Topics: 

Hesitations

Relationships

Beginning of the End

The Future? (Season 4 Talk)

I rewatched the episode with subs I could fully read and understand so I’m ready to talk about it now. Let's go. . .

FYI: I’m gonna be mainly dissecting Miracle Queen because A LOT happened here that I HAVE TO let out.

Hesitations

In Heart Hunter/ Love Eater we got a good consensus of how every character is doing. To summarize, we know Luka has deeply fallen for Marinette and constantly thinks about the song that is her. Kagami is much closer to Adrien and is open about her feelings to him. Luka and Kagami are also now officially good friends with their supposed love rival. Really everyone is getting along PERFECTLY. . . . But then Kagami and Adrien get much closer and all Marinette can do is just let the one she loves go. 

In Miracle Queen, Marinette cries to Luka and admits in her monologue that nothing is going and if anything things are painful. . . but that it’s nice to have someone that’s there for her when she need it. . .  this someone being Luka. Before the bees attack, Marinette makes a move to move on by wanting to hear his finalized song, but Luka questions an important question:

“You’re still thinking about Adrien?”

Meanwhile, Adrien breaks away from the kiss with an “Oh! Uh, it’s my first time, I’m not ready!” excuse even though it’s clear he’s unsure about advancing things with Kagami. But then her version of the important question is:

“But when will you be ready, Adrien? . .  Your hesitation hurts.”

*queue the bees* So as of this point, Adrien and Marinette have finally faced their actual obstacle in terms of romance: Their HESITATIONS.

This entire season, we’ve had instances in which Adrienette has had the thought of wanting to be something more (either through a crush or Plagg’s perseuations), but there was always the thought of “But there’s Luka/Kagami. . .” Ikari Gozen shed this for Marinette, Stormy Weather 2.0 shed this for Adrien. . .

Anyways Chloe calls forward people who have held a miraculous and exposes them (both in identity and diss lol) btw she did say Luka looked “kinda cute”

Ladybug and Chat Noir find each other confused as to how things went south so fast and Chat just asks “What did Fu tell you?”, to which Ladybug basically answers “Nothing” and has break down admitting she accidentally lead Hawkmoth to Fu.

Relationships

This moment right here. . . it's IMPORTANT. 

Chat sees Ladybug vulnerable and consoles her letting her know to focus on saving Fu and not to worry more on the rest mistakes. Ladybug thanks him and the two hug. . . but like ACTUALLY hug. 

I’m not talking someone hugging the other in attempt to save the other from harm, but an actual genuine friendly hug. Chat Noir isn’t being flirty or making advances, and Ladybug isn't annoyed or pushing Chat away. Their relationship as heroes is no longer just partners. . . but officially CLOSE FRIENDS.

Moving on, they kick ass, get the likely to be former wielders’ miraculous back and face off with Chloe. To summarize, she tells Ladybug that she’s the real enemy because she doesn’t trust her and goes on to equip all the miraculous. She tries to use them all but all the kwamis basically told her to go fuck herself in the form of “You don’t even know our commands.” 

Oh, but what’s this? ANOTHER advancement in the Ladynoir relationship. Ladybug turns to Chat all vulnerable once more, and he picks her back up. This is the first time in a WHILE (since Origins) that Ladybug had confided in Chat with her vulnerability and fears of failure TWICE in ONE day. Don’t forget about this for next season.

The Beginning of the End

After telling Ladybug that she now has all the keys and knowledge about the miraculous, Fu then decides its time. No not the grim kind of time, but the time to finally pass on the torch to Ladybug. He officially denounces his role as guardian, which renders all inactive miraculous useless. (I’m actually not certain but it IS what I noticed considering the active miraculous were still working but the inactive ones became empty jewelry shells as the kwamis got transferred into a brand new box for Ladybug. I’m sure S4 will have the answers here.) Hawkmoth is literally disappointed and leaves with a weaker Mayura.

Chloe angrily tells Ladybug she just wants to be Queen Bee and be the REAL MAIN HERO, to which Ladybug simply answers “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that, Chloe.” Chloe then throws a tantrum saying “FINE! I am not your fan anymore. I will go live with my mom because you don’t even deserve to breath the same air as ME.” and runs away.

Oh yeah, Chat lost Hawkmoth and Mayura :D. . . . *high five*

ANYWAYS, Ladybug and Chat Noir go to vibe check on Fu while Gabriel vibe checks Nathalie. One is alive and well and the other is alive and. . . yeah. 

KEEP IN MIND, NATHALIE NOW HAS ACQUIRED THE INFO SHE NEEDED FROM FU’S BELONGINGS TO REPAIR THE PEACOCK MIRACULOUS. DO NOT FORGET THIS FOR NEXT SEASON.

Back to Fu, he wakes up but. . . ya GUESSED IT (or didn't)  . . . lost his memory along with his duties as guardian and this marks the END of an era. . .

ML LORE: THE GUARDIAN RULE IS THAT YOU ERASE YOUR MEMORIES OF KNOWING ABOUT THE TRUE POWER OF THE MIRACULOUS ONCE YOU DENOUNCE YOUR ROLE IN ORDER TO PROTECT THE IDENTITY OF THE current? WIELDERS. EVEN THE USE “MIRACULOUS LADYBUG” DOES NOT UNDO THIS.

DEFINITELY DO NOT FORGET THIS MOVING FORWARD IN THE SERIES (but mainly if you really like lore or just want to use this as a fic tool :3)

Techincally, someone did die this episode, but it was the person we all once knew as Master Fu. Now it is just Wang Fu. He returns Ladybug’s “lost key” thinking she dropped it? and then marks the a new beginning. 

Chloe returns to expect her mom to be getting ready to leave, but finds her parents finally happy and in love. . . I’m actually really happy this happened. Chloe needs a loving home and if this helps her in anyways, ABOUT TIME. 

“As you start to get older, you start to understand that life doesn’t always give you what you thought it would. I wanted to tell you this in person, Marinette, but if you are reading this it is because I’ve already lost all my memories. Do not be afraid, you haven’t lost all of me completely. Like I told you in the beginning of the letter, losses are a part of life, but this isn’t important. The only thing that’s important is if you’ve won (?) or not. That is the key to be able to accept changes as they come on your own. To be able to accept everything as a whole even when you feel life hasn’t given you enough. The real gift, is life itself.” —Fu

no I’m not crying, you are

After retrieving Master Fu’s leftover gifts for Marinette, she takes him to see Marianne to their new home (assuming), to whom Wang Fu has met for the first time but is already fully in love with. Marinette gives them a final parting gift, to where his last words to her are:

“Thank you, young lady. I’ll never forget you.”

okay, okay, maybe a TINY tear has left my eye. . .

Now to our final scene of the season. Adrien and Marinette are closer friends and nothing is distant between the two, They’re even so comfortable small talk is like second nature to them . . . they’ve also both finally faced their own hesitations and decided to give the person in front of them a shot for and for all: Luka and Kagami.

“The real gift, is life itself.”

okay okay I’m SOBBING aghhhHHHHHHHH--

Oh and Gabriel seems to have repaired the peacock miraculous 👀

The Future (?)

Okay, so THAT’S how Season 3 ended. It feels bittersweet, I cried about it when I got home and watched it with real subtitles, but now lets talk about what we can expect to come in Season 4. It’s all guess and theories but I guess here’s mine:

Marinette now fully changed and matured with her new role as guardian, will probably be a lot more calmer with her approaches. The relationships will likely be that Lukanette and Adrigami will try to flourish further as both Adrien and Marinette decided to stop hesitating and going for what’s in front of them. . . but so will Ladynoir. 

I’m, for the time being, jumping ship on the theory that Ladybug will fall more in love with Chat, and Chat still being loyal to his lady will equally return the feelings as this happens further. . . but of course their civilian relationships will interfere. . . and idk about you guys but that department looks like it’s going to be interesting. 

I may add more later on, but I just needed to get all this out in one post for the finale. I’ll still watch Felix and Chat Blanc cause I’m in denial that yes, this was basically it already . . . But the wounds are still fresh in my soul for this show and it still hurts. . . 

. 

.

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So yeah . . . Lila Rossi who?

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Don’t know her. . . 

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and neither did Hawkmoth in that finale 👀 *sips tea*

[thebiasrekkers]

Fragmentation 0.7 - KSJ

Plot: How does one measure freedom? Are our choices truly our own, or are they part of a preset design outside of our control? We all have a question burning inside of us, though few speak it out. It is the question that drives us forward, seeking purpose in our lives. What is The Matrix?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | The Matrix!AU | angst | sci-fi | action | drama

Pairing: N/A

Warnings: Strong language, allusions to suicide, extreme angst, graphic violence

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,096

AN: On to Seokjin’s origin story of how he left The Matrix. I actually took inspiration from the animated short, Beyond, from The Animatrix. I always found it super fascinating that certain parts of The Matrix, much like a computer, experiences “glitches” from time to time. Especially in the earlier incarnations of it.  All information in the universe can be found on the official Matrix Wiki so please use that as a reference guide if you ever get confused!

Tag List: @aroseforyoongi​, @prisczero​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @unoriginal-username15432​

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Seokjin tossed the apple in his hand lazily, lagging behind his friends as they chattered on about some “cool thing” they found. He didn’t understand why they were so adamant in dragging him out there, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. Martin called and told him he didn’t need to come in for his shift today if he was fine with trading with him for that Sunday. As a teenage senior, he didn’t have much to really worry about as far as money. His parents were loaded. The only reason he had a job in the first place was his father wanted to teach him the “fundamental building blocks of living in society” and how to acclimate to said societal norms.

The truth? Seokjin was lazy at times and didn’t much care for responsibility on that level. With a successful chain of restaurants, stocks and bonds piling up in the bank, Seokjin didn’t have a care in the world. He could flit around and do as he pleased. The caveat? He had to maintain his grade point average and have a part-time job. If he couldn’t balance both his schoolwork and his actual job, then he didn’t deserve to inherit everything his father managed to build in his lifetime.

Easy money. Too easy. One day off on a said day when he didn’t feel like working, replacing said workday with a Sunday? The choice was obvious.

“Yo, Jin,” called Abbey, causing his mind to focus back on the current conversation he hadn’t been listening to in the first place, “it’s this way.”

He watched as Abbey, James and Elena motioned for him to follow through a narrow alleyway. The sun was bright and he couldn’t help but wonder why they were even doing this in the middle of the day. When it came to those three, they were always trying to get into some kind of mischief. Seokjin didn’t really think too much of it. Even if he got in trouble, he knew his mother would find a way to get him out of it. 

What slivers of light existed quickly vanished within the dark shadows of the alley. They couldn’t enter in pairs - all trailing behind the other like little worker ants. Seokjin crunched into his apple, the sound bouncing off the walls of the small enclosure. They continued to chatter amongst each other, but Seokjin followed behind silently. He hadn’t been asked anything worth responding to and nothing of interest forced him to comment on it.

They were used to his lackluster attitude though.

As they breached the other side of the alley, he squinted from the sudden flood of light nearly blinding him. Abbey’s high-pitched giggle caught his interest. He shielded his face with his forearm, catching the image of James and Elena jumping into the air just in time. He didn’t quite understand what was so amusing…

...until he looked up and saw that Abbey was floating in the air.

“Whoa,” Seokjin murmured just as James did a somersault in the air - his motions slowed as if he were suspended in zero gravity, “what the hell?”

Elena laughed, her hair fanning out in the air as she hung upside down. “Pretty cool, huh?”

Seokjin nodded slowly, almost dropping the apple in his hand. “Yeah…”

“C’mon, Jin!” Abbey waved emphatically to him, spinning to the ground like a dancer from a dream. “You try it out!”

His eyes lingered around, spying all the various things in that section of the abandoned playground; a piece of a seemingly abandoned district. Rocks floated around, bouncing up and down in soft motions as if they were situated on an invisible river. Little bugs that attempted to fly off were slowed by whatever encompassed the space they were currently standing in. Seokjin could count the number of wings and how many times they flapped.

“What is this?” he asked, unsure of what this was and why he was even asking in the first place.

“We don’t know,” James answered with a shrug as he perched on the metal jungle gym, “but we figured it might have something to do with why this district got abandoned.”

He picked up one of the floating rocks, studied it, and then tossed it off to the side. The sound of it hitting the pavement caused him to turn and glance over his shoulder. The rock skittered off behind a barrel, hidden in its shadows where he wouldn’t bother looking. Canting his head slightly, he picked up another one of the floating rocks and threw it into the space where it occupied. For half a second, it zipped in at normal speed before slowing to a halt just inches away from James’ face.

“Hey!” he yelled, but Seokjin continued to look at the other rocks scattered along on the ground, “You could have hit me!”

Seokjin scoffed. “I doubt it.” 

He tossed the apple into the air, watching it float along in the space - suspended in the air just outside of his reach. 

Suddenly, there was a harsh sound resembling a record scratch that caught his attention. When he turned to face it, he saw that an old soda can seemed to be glitching in and out of focus. Seokjin’s eyes narrowed slowly, his feet moving toward it. 

“Jin?” Abbey’s voice sounded concerned. “What is it?”

“You guys didn’t hear that?” He turned away from the can to look at his friends. “You guys didn’t hear that?”

All three of them shook their heads simultaneously. Had he been the only one to see it? To hear it?

But that’s crazy, he thought, his eyes moving back to the can, it was so loud and the fracture across the can is so obvious.

Or was it?

“Jin, you’re scaring us, dude,” chimed Elena, but he couldn’t be bothered with that. Not if they couldn’t see it.

But why could he see?

Like a bolt of lightning, the wails of sirens pierced through their tranquil setting. Flashes of red and blue illuminated their world. Seokjin looked around, his eyes widening as he quickly turned on his heels and scrambled a few steps back. His gaze shifted to the sky and he balked, seeing that it was suddenly dusk. When had it gotten that dark? They couldn’t have been there for more than an hour. Maybe less.

“We gotta go!” yelled Abbey, grabbing onto Seokjin’s wrist and pulling him away from the miniature wonderland. 

Their sneakers pounded the pavement, kicking up dirt and scattered newspapers around them. James scrambled up a dumpster and grabbed for the handrailing of a fire escape. The girls followed suit and Seokjin knelt down to give Abbey a boost. Just as he was about to reach for her outstretched hand, flashlight beams all shined on him at once. Seokjin did his best to shield his eyes, backing away from where his friends were. Climbing up was too risky. He had to leave them and go off on his own.

“Look, I’ll catch up with you guys later!” he called up to them, pivoting on his heels and tearing off down the alleyway. 

As his world got darker, Seokjin thought the alley was getting smaller and smaller. His breath came in quick intervals and he blinked rapidly against the sweat threatening to seep into his eyes. Just as he was about to reach the edge of the alley, an arm suddenly flung itself out of a window and grabbed him by his shoulders. He tried to scream, but all he could taste was leather as a hand covered his mouth - the rest of his body being dragged into the building through the opening.

Fear clutched at his chest, squeezing it slowly. Darkness flooded his vision, rendering him unable to see as the rushed sound of footsteps thundered passed. When the noise faded away, Seokjin’s heart finally began to ease up. The owner of the hand and arm that dragged him into the building finally stood up, giving him room to finally breathe comfortably. 

“That was close,” said the person, her voice distinctly feminine. 

Seokjin took a moment to get a good look at her, her dirty blonde hair framing her face while the rest of it was pulled back through the hole in the back of her ball cap. A cheeky grin etched her features. Her shorts were provocatively short, muscled legs covered in thigh high stockings that disappeared into a pair of combat boots. Her upper body showed off her toned midriff, the rest covered in a denim jacket and black tank top. She didn’t look much older than him, from what he could tell.

He frowned. “Who the hell are you?”

“Does it matter?” She scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. “Even if I told you, you wouldn’t know anyway, would you?”

Well, she certainly wasn’t wrong. But that didn’t make it any less irritating. It was clear that she knew something that he didn’t and considering the situation he just barely escaped from (barring her help), that was something that didn’t sit well with him. Not by a long shot. 

“Why’d you help me?”

If he didn’t know better, he swore he saw her grin get just a little bit bigger. 

“You saw it, didn’t you?”

A cold sweat prickled along the back of his neck. Instead of answering, he chose to swallow the lump in his throat. Apparently, that was all the response she needed. Chuckling more to herself than to the information he’d unintentionally given away, she shook her head slightly. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I swung by when I did.”

Seokjin’s frown deepened, if possible, and he took a step toward her. “Just what in the hell is going on?”

She unfolded her arms, stuffing her hands into her pockets. She fished around in both until one came out. She held her fist out to him, urging him to come forward. When he did, she lofted a brow, waiting for him to do something else. Not sure what she was wanting, Seokjin held out his palm.

Opening her fist, she dropped a small, silver case into his hand. Curious, he popped open the box and inside were two pills. One blue, the other red. Was she trying to drug him?

Just as he opened his mouth to question her, he saw the girl holding a cell phone up to her ear. 

“Stand by for pickup.”

Seokjin had about as much as he could stand. “Hey! What’s the big idea? You tryna kidnap me or some shit?”

The girl frowned, craning her neck slowly to glare at him. “You’re the idiot that doesn’t even realize he’s already trapped.”

He blinked, not sure why hearing that struck a nerve. What did that even mean?

“If you want to know the answer behind that little gravity show you and your friends were messin’ with, take the red pill. You wanna forget about it and go back to your normal boring life, then take the blue pill. Choice is yours, Buttercup.”

Seokjin’s eyes lingered back to the pills. He couldn’t forget what he’d experienced. His friends thought it was just some weird phenomenon and, honestly, if he hadn’t seen the can glitch out, he might have chalked it up to that as well. But too many things didn’t add up. How had the police shown up so quickly and when had time shifted that fast in a space where it only felt like he’d been there for no more than an hour?

Grasping the red pill between his thumb and forefinger, he popped it into his mouth and swallowed. The girl’s grin returned and he watched her hang up the phone and slip it back into her pocket. In the dark and dusty building they were in, the walls inked over in black as flickers of green numbers seemed to explode along the walls. Seokjin’s ears started ringing to the point where they hurt and he clutched at them with both hands, dropping the case and the remaining blue pill. He felt a hand on his shoulder as it squeezed it gently.

“You gotta breathe,” she said, her voice a distant whisper against the roaring sound of his blood rushing through his ears, “just take a deep breath. It’ll be over quick.”

And as he took a breath, everything blurred over in a haze of green, black and gray. Until there was nothing left. It was quiet; peaceful. But somehow he knew that this was only the beginning.

“Welcome to the Real World.”