#keep dreaming about work to the point where it's merging with my dreams about video games

[ilkkawhat]

9.16 Turn, Turn, Turn

[dropsofletters]

runaway silhouette [jjh]

—summary: no one asks about that polaroid picture of a woman yoonoh keeps in the depths of his wallet.

lace, measurements, models—jung yoonoh has worked for the world of fashion for a little too long, but he’s as unknown as the person next door. with his inspiration dying down and his designs getting cheaper by the day, yoonoh has changed his ways. no longer is he the best lingerie designer in ‘silhouette’, the company he works for, neither is he the playboy he used to be and the dulcet-mouthed man that got his way through success.

bad luck has settled in his life, much like it has done on hers. the manager of a hotel that slipped his fingertips when one night she denied him all—the world, her hold, her smile, and just left him with a picture on his wallet.

only when he has to prepare one of the biggest fashion showcases of his life does he meet her again, and he realizes things could never be easy between them.

why is he, a man of fashion, infatuated with such a lovesick, monotone, blazer-sporting hotel manager? no one will ever know.

a runaway has captured him, and he’s not sure how to get his heart back.

maybe, he should start by forgetting that night.

—title: runaway silhouette  —pairing: jung yoonoh x reader  —genre: lingerie designer!au ; hotel manager!au ; strangers to lovers to enemies!au ; slowburn!au ; slice of life!au  —type: fluff ; angst ; humor ; drama ; suggestive —word count: 19,326 (i said slowburn and i meant it) —warnings: mentions of sex (the act is never on paper or narrative)

Jung Yoonoh is dressed to succeed.

With folded white sleeves and a black vest that becomes a second skin, he merges into the office like it belongs to him. It might, at some point in time; an associate after a few years and then, onto another business that was his own—vision, designs, everything. That’s the plan. His suitcase hangs, paces back and forth in the hook of his fist while all eyes cast on him while walking through the cubicles.

Today, Yoonoh is becoming the one in charge.

Silhouette is the lingerie line everyone wants to have cladding their skin. Expensive, intricate and elegant. It’s one of those things people put on when they need to feel their best while also being comfortable. Garments that enamor the buyer and the people who see them. His home for the past two years, Yoonoh has broken his ass to get to the manager position in the design department.

When settling his suitcase on his cubicle, he shares a smile with his neighbor. Johnny, part of the social media team, with his long-curled hair framing his rounded face. Fixing the collar of his shirt, Johnny interrupts him to say.

“Big day today, aye?”

Redemption, he likes to call this day. The payment for the parties he didn’t go to and the obnoxious nagging he stood from his boss, Mrs. Kang. This tall woman with atrocious so-last-season fluffed out coats in bright pink who screams at the mere sight of beige underwear. As she says, it’s tacky and simple, the kind of clothing you’d want to wear when un-turning someone on.

Yoonoh can’t wait until he can make decisions, organize collections, make bigger and better options for Silhouette to expand.

“You see, John, once I become your boss…I’m making you the leader of the PR and Social Media Team.” This place is a nest of snakes. One bite on his first day and he already became smarter. “Can’t be trusting anyone else with these babies.” With that, he opens his suitcase, sketchbook pressed to his chest just as Johnny claps his hands.

“Better position means better salary.” Johnny conquers, as casual as ever in his baby blue sweater

There are a few rules to Silhouette. To any workplace, really, and Yoonoh thinks about this just as he swings his long legs with Johnny following after him like a dog and his tail.

He had written them down in a portion of his brain that keeps his coffee order and his mom’s birthday. He’ll never forget them.

1)     Never trust nobody—never say where you come from in business, where you’re headed, what your dreams and aspirations are. Copycats exist everywhere, and they’ll do anything to follow your track if you’re doing good.

2)    Say goodbye to friendships but hello to hypocrisy. A smile is needed, but is it real? Not at all.

3)    Differentiate your works from others. Being special is the only way you’ll stand out.

One push of the door spreads a smile on his face, brown hair pushed back to showcase his plush, rosy lips and his gleaming eyes. What’s rule number four, you may ask?

Don’t let them see how tired you are.

Mrs. Kang sits at the very end of the meeting table. Always early, never late. Her face is dense with makeup, each wrinkle becoming more apparent as she applies a third layer of bright pink lipstick. Yoonoh knows Mrs. Kang has been the biggest dictator of all—giving him more work hours, destroying the designs she didn’t like from him, and making him get jittery fingers from how much he had to sew and unsew with the sewing machine to show her what his mind had captured. Now that she had found a way younger boyfriend that is eager to give a trip to the entirety of Asia, he’s over the moon.

Because that means old and grumpy Mrs. Kang will be gone for a while, and whoever becomes manager will be, then, the one in charge.

“Mrs. Kang!” Yoonoh greets in a tone that is much too faux, his dimple becoming apparent by the second. The woman looks up and away from her compact, stopping the conversation he is having with his biggest rival in the office. Not worth even thinking about. “Classic always goes best. You look beautiful today.”

She can barely even move her features in a smile. That’s how obstinate this woman is, but one of her wrinkly hands comes up to hold Yoonoh’s bicep when he leans down to press two kisses on each of her cheeks. The old European greeting. “I know, Yoonoh.” She adds, extending her hand towards him. “May you show me your designs? I got here earlier than expected and I have something to do right now so—”

That makes Yoonoh’s smile falter the slightest, just as he opens his sketchbook and splays it in front of Mrs. Kang. “Well, Mrs. Kang, if you let me have a few of your minutes, I prepared a PowerPoint presentation and a video for the collection I have in mind as my desire to become head of the designing team—”

“Silence, Yoonoh.” Mrs. Kang interrupts, going through his lingerie designs for both men and women. It’s not the kind of job people think about when designing, but there is something about seduction and comfort that just works well for him. “I’m in the midst of planning my engagement and I don’t have the time for whatever extra thing you have in mind.”

The room is silent, but if features could talk, the woman seated next to Mrs. Kang would have burst out in laughter. Siyeon is a 4’11 piece of shit that dared steal one of his designs when in his beginnings in Silhouette.  A fuchsia baby-doll that turned viral in the blink of an eye once it appeared in runways. Comfortable, sexy, with the right number of straps and the comfort of wearing it at any occasion, companion or not.

Yoonoh had left his sketch at his desk, only to find it gone the next morning. Mrs. Kang was over the moon, both from the money she got and about the audacity of the design. Siyeon had turned it in as hers.

No wonder her husband doesn’t stand her. She’s the devil reincarnate, and slips in Johnny’s DM’s every once in a while.

Yoonoh can’t say he doesn’t have some screenshots saved on his phone just in case he needs to blackmail her. This is the kind of man he has become.

“Done before.” Mrs. Kang flips onto another one of his designs. “Done before.” And then, she continues with the rest. “Vulgar. Boring. Ugly. Done before. Jesus, Yoonoh, did you even try to do anything?”

Yoonoh is used to praise. He has got it from women, throughout his time in college and even at his previous jobs. As an intern, he was refreshing and a nice sight in the designer area. Now, he is the floor Mrs. Kang steps on with her Louis Vuitton’s.

“I—” The meeting room is silent, everyone in the designer team trying to peek at his sketches. A short laugh leaves his lips, though awkward in tone. “We’ll compete against brands like Savage with designs like this. They’re brave and fitted and—”

“Boring.” Mrs. Kang completes, and Siyeon actually laughs at that moment, playing with one of her curled bright red strands of hair. “Yoonoh, I’m being serious. If the women you’re sleeping with are wearing lingerie like this…I’m worried about your sexual health.”

More laughter, and his jaw finally tightens. He tries to tell himself to smile, but he doesn’t, instead, snatching the sketchbook from her.

Mrs. Kang notices this, pushing her reading glasses down her nose before sighing. “Yoonoh, you need to learn how to take constructive criticism. You’re not perfect and I’m here to make you grow.” Says the woman that steps on him each time she can. At this point, he’s practically plastered on the floor. “I’m sure you’ll get to divert these boring ideas into something creative once Siyeon becomes the head of the department. You two have been so close since the beginning and I am sure she will work magic on you.”

“No.” Yoonoh shakes his head just as he plasters a faux smile on his features. “Ah, I—Well, I won’t—”

Siyeon stands up from her seat, fixing the sleeves of her white dress before clearing her throat. “I’m glad of getting the position and being the one, remotely, in charge of Silhouette as Mrs. Kang goes find true love.” This is not happening. Yoonoh rubs at his eyes in case he is dreaming. He has been preparing for this presentation for five months— “All I have to say is…I wouldn’t have been able to do this without the support of everyone here. My team. My heart. I have grown to have a family with you, not because we’re perfect, but because we’re together and…of course, it’s nice to continue down this path.” She hums. “A woman in charge and then, another woman. Isn’t that the whole point of Silhouette?”

His tongue scalds his palette when he takes a seat next to Mrs. Kang, closing his sketchbook with a harsh slap of his hand. Siyeon’s eyes connect to his own, fluttering her dense mascara-coated lashes before sighing.

“I had the pleasure of seeing Yoonoh in his first few days here and he has lost that spark, but I’m sure we’ll find it again.” Oh, everyone gets roses but he gets a few, too. For his social funeral, that is. He really wants to get out of there as soon as possible. “I’m thankful.”

There go the tears, and Siyeon covering her face with her hand, a smile hidden behind the action.

…Has he ever said he hates working in Silhouette?

“You’re going to make me cry, too.” One of the members of the manufacturing team says in between big sobs and Yoonoh can’t help but roll his eyes.

Fuck this place.

After an elongated meeting with tearful hugs and looks thrown his way, Yoonoh is ready to find somewhere else to work in. Keep to himself until he dares get his curriculum somewhere else and stab this company straight in the back. Not because he didn’t get the job…but…

Let’s be honest, it’s because he didn’t get the job and he lost it to Siyeon.

Johnny slips around a few hours later with some cheeseburgers in a plastic bag, dense in cheese and stinking the two conjoined cubicles before he says:

“She’s the devil.”

“An exorcism wouldn’t be enough for her.” Yoonoh replies, tongue itching to say something when he unleashes the cheeseburgers from their confines. He’s only five minutes away from lunchtime, after all. “I can’t believe they gave it to her. Her designs are…I don’t know, like lace over lace. That’s not elegant, that’s not what Silhouette stands for—”

“Here’s the thing,” Johnny says, smacking his lips as he speaks with a mouthful of burger in his mouth. “You never had a chance.”

A pang rests in the pit of his heart when he scoffs. “Yes, I did.”

“No, you don’t.” His friend replies. “Everyone in this office hates you but me. I believe it is a Freudian theory. The Jung Yoonoh Effect.” Voiced out like a movie trailer, Johnny extends one of his hands in the air.

“Sorry for not caring about anything but business. Everyone here are suck-asses and crybabies. Why should I care?”

“Because people feel disconnected to you. They don’t to Siyeon.” Johnny conquers. “The Jung Yoonoh Effect is simple.”

“Stop it. You don’t even know who Freud is.”

“That one psychologist that compared everything to sex. That’s who he is. Hence, why you’re there.”

Yoonoh quirks an eyebrow, playing with a slice of meat that had gotten out of his burger. “What are you even talking about?”

“Interns always thirst over you. At least, five out of every nine people in this office has had a wet dream about you, liked enough of your Instagram pics to look like a freak, or would have your dick in a second if the second step of your effect wouldn’t come around.”

“…I’m not that bad of a guy.”

“But you’re bland. Work. Work. Work.” Johnny moves his hand as if it’s talking. Now he’s playing marionettes. Great. “We’re selling lingerie, and you are always about competition and work. We need you to be passionate.”

“Passionately suck up to people?” Yoonoh shakes his head, huffing in the process. “No thanks, man. I’m not going to lower myself to Siyeon’s standards. Not sure I want to get pink eye from kissing so much ass.”

“Been there, done that.” Johnny sighs, a smile displayed on his features. “I’m just saying, bro. Maybe, change the game—”

Something Yoonoh is…stubborn. He’d die with that title, and it is only enhanced when he feels a long nail tapping on his shoulder, making him turn around. He expects to see one of those interns that try to stumble out words when asking him for his e-mail to send him the summaries or designs they have worked on, but this time around, he is met with Siyeon’s face.

“No eating until lunchtime.” She tuts, shaking her finger in the air.

This means war.

Yoonoh points at the clock on his wrist, showing it to her. Rolex, maybe, he’s spoiling himself with the benefit of showing her he has also earned some money, designs mediocre or not. “It’s already my lunchtime.”

“Not to me.” Siyeon answers, straightening her back. “Maybe, you’d like to listen to me before I kick you out of the team, don’t you, Yoonoh?”

With that, he pushes the burger onto his desk, covering it just as Siyeon smiles.

“Good boy.” She coos, laughing when she turns around and returns to giving a run-around the office.

“That’s it.” Yoonoh whispers, running his hands through his hair, not caring if he messes it up in the process. “I’m designing the best fucking collection one could ever find and showing everyone in this goddamned office that I have talent.”

“Ooh, and where do you think you’ll get inspiration from?” Johnny tries to gossip, and Siyeon’s soft touch for him is shown when she doesn’t even spare him a glance as he munches on his burger.

“I think I have someone in mind.”

###

She’d color-code her life if she could. Hence, it’s still a mess, and while she is as organized as she could be, her mind is still trying to process how to keep the hotel she works in safe and sound and quiet.

One would think that being the manager of a hotel would be easy. A three-star-hotel, no celebrities, no paparazzi’s, definitely not enough rich people who care about their environment. As long as she made it homely, clean, and nice to stay in, it wouldn’t be much of an issue.

The problem is���everything is a mess.

For one, her boss, Sachiko, has not appeared in the last two days into the hotel. None of her well-prepared summaries, in Times New Roman twelve, with enough punctuation to make it look like a contract, have been read. The maids keep talking amongst themselves, gossiping instead of cleaning. They got a bad review on their restaurant because the head of the cooking team had decided to shout to one of the clients about how ‘they didn’t have an ounce of taste’ because they disliked the taste of his Ratatouille and oh, how to forget? The fact that her duties as a manager transcend to something else.

She rushes through the kitchen, heat and smoke accompanied by the sizzling of veggies and meat. She doesn’t care that there are flames around her, or that she bumps into one of the cooks in the process.

Sachiko has a mini version of herself, gift of a getaway with her ex-husband to try to make her marriage work. Then, came the five-year-old that had slipped her hold as she was attending one of the residents in their hotel at the entrance, granting them information about the type of rooms they offered. Erika, in all her round-faced glory with grabby hands and too much energy, had slipped from her line of sight and her hold.

She has roamed the entire hotel and she can’t find her.

Oh, then, she should change her statement that she hasn’t seen Sachiko in two days. She has. Sachiko’s heels have clicked against the tiles of this hotel. Only to leave Erika with her, spitting out excuses about having to get on another meeting for the expansion of the hotel, before she’s off the hook of being a full-time mother.

She doesn’t even get more payment for this.

“Have you seen Erika?!” She asks out loud, voice strained from so much shouting, only to watch the head chef speak, his moustache moving with each word he says.

“Oh, little Erika?” Well, seems like he has a soft spot for someone. His eyes glimmer, just as he wraps his hand around his mouth, as if to utter a secret. “She’s in one of the tables. She asked for two milkshakes already. Oreo milkshakes. She’s starting to jitter.”

“Mr. Oh!” She whines, throwing her head back with a groan before splaying her hands on her hips. Navy blue uniform as a simple suit giving her the most boring yet comforting outfit she could come up with. “I am the one that has to get her to sleep, and if she has sugar before bed, she won’t even close an eye—”

Mr. Oh shrugs. “What am I supposed to say? She’s my boss’ daughter.”

“I am your boss as well.”

“You’re getting me fired?”

She can’t even answer to him, hearing the Baby Shark song spoken at the top of someone’s little lungs. Her feet are rushing out of the kitchen by the time she notices it, blazer opening up when she gets to the table Erika is in. Red walls and marble tables don’t scare her, playing with the straw of her drink and grabbing someone’s phone to listen to that fucking song again.

“Erika…” She tuts, voice stern, hands spread out on her knees. This cardio routine has been enough to make her burn all she has eaten this month. The little girl’s short hair caresses her cheeks when she turns towards her, a mischievous smile on her face.

“Yes?”

“Let’s go to your room and wait for mommy to get here.”

“Nope.”

“Yes, Erika. I am not playing.” Her voice levels itself, only to have Erika staring back at her. Big brown eyes blinking, playing with the edge of her pretty pink dress before sighing.

“But you won’t let me…let me watch my shows.” She takes in a breath, shuddering it out as a pout splays on her lips. “Y—You…mommy said you’d be with me, but you aren’t with me at all—”

Tears wield her eyes and she has to rush to cage her in her hold, hoisting her up before a big wail left her lips and she lost her job. “I’m sorry, Erika. I’ve been so busy, I hadn’t realized.” She mumbles out, pressing her cheek to the top of her head before sighing. “Do you want to give a walk around the hotel and go back to your room to watch as many shows as you want?”

She has to play good cards here. She’s not raising this child, after all, so if the long hours of TV-watching make her turn out bad when she’s a teen…that’s not her business.

Erika nods continuously, engulfing her arms around her shoulders. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

At least, she has found Erika before Sachiko arrives the next morning, but her body practically glues itself to the floor in tiredness by the time she slips out of the restaurant.

The best part of being a manager is when she gets back home.

###

“So, you’re saying you practically lost your job?”

Yoonoh’s life revolves one thing. Those four walls of his cubicles, the connections he has gotten from his workplace and his elongated list of explanations that always go unheard. In any other occasion, he would have been delighted of being given the benefit of lying. Casual relationships are more of his thing and explaining his every insecurity, recollection of time or worry isn’t part of the plan. Carnalities? Sure thing.

A hook-up turned friend with benefits pushing him by the chest and practically gasping when he sighs? He didn’t think it’d end this way.

“Mia,” His voice rasps out, leaning back on his calves while hovering over her. Her bed is as pristine as always, the rosy satin sheets from last week turned into beige, deep fibers that do sound too elegant for them to do whatever they are thinking of in the bed. “I didn’t lose my job, I just didn’t become the head of my department, okay?”

He’s trying to spell it out, but the model is just as confused. Mia had modelled for Silhouette a bunch of times in the last two years, and that’s how he met her. Fitting one of his designs to her will had led him to be asked out on a date and then, the contract came about. Just sex, nothing more.

Mia scrambles away from underneath him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as if repulsed. As if she had kissed an ogre itself. “Yoonoh, you’re practically jobless—!”

“I am not.” He sighs out, trying his hardest to concentrate on anything around the room. The tall ceilings, the conversation at hand, anything but the obvious problem in his boxers right now. “I swear, I will just be working for Siyeon but it’s for a period of time. I’m sure I’ll get her position soon enough.”

“Oh my God,” Mia pushes her long brown hair away from her shoulders, widening those innocent eyes of hers, sharp cheekbones lifting in distaste—not even a smile of comprehension. “I can’t believe I almost slept with a good for nothing. You told me you’d get that job and now you didn’t?”

“A good for nothing?” Yoonoh stands up from that bed, hands on his hips when Mia nods, once and then twice.

“Your dick is good, but not that good.”

Is this the day Yoonoh’s ego gets bruised to shattered little pieces that poke at his feet like glass? Perhaps.

Is this the day Yoonoh lets that pang of pain in his chest become visible? Not at all.

“Were you just with me because I was probably going to be a manager?”

“Silhouette is—listen, they are established, but it’s not what I had in mind.” Mia puts on her robe, covering her Goddess-crafted body before picking up a glass of the wine they had been sharing. “If you became manager, I’d have more connections with other teams. I would probably be in better runways and—”

“I’m not your manager or your little linking buddy, Mia.” Yoonoh complains, chest flushed when he seethes, pushing the strands of his dark hair away from his face. “We’re just having fun. I wasn’t going to bring you as my plus one when we had already established—”

“I don’t know if you notice,” She starts, licking her lips in elegance. “But you’re…you’re going to end up alone, Yoonoh. All you do is work, you’re always tense and silent and…a little bit boring, if I’m being honest. I am definitely the closest thing you’ll ever have to a relationship.”

Oh, no. That’s the thing he hates the most. How the world has been divided in romanticists and hard-workers. You’re one of the other, can’t ever be both, and sometimes, he feeds into that stereotype. He knows he doesn’t have time to fully sit down and talk to someone about his interests, let his heart be wandered about like a museum, but somehow…hearing anyone tell him that he’s tense, silent, boring…doesn’t sit well with him.

He shrugs, eager to poke just like done to him. “Good thing I never wanted a relationship with you to start with.”

Mia gasps at that, plush lips parted before she’s opening the window of her one-floor home. Elegant, but still not the grandest thing out there. “Oh, is that so?”

“You happen to be presumptuous, superficial and now, a complete opportunist—” He says, walking behind her until she turns around, her robe falling off one shoulder when she points at the window, crisp air whisking the tension around.

“Then, leave.”

“Okay.” He’s about to turn around and grab his clothing, when he feels her tugging at his taut forearm.

“Not through the door. You don’t get the benefit to do that.” Once again, Mia is pointing at the window and that catches a chuckle out of Yoonoh, that rises and rises in tone.

“I won’t get out through there.”

“I didn’t ask you. I told you to.” With that, she’s pushing at his chest, trying to get him out as he scrambles to get a hold of her.

“Mia! Are you fucking insane?!”

“Tired of your bullshit, Yoonoh. That’s it.”

Mia is, perhaps, not stronger than him, but for someone who walks on runways…she’s mad strong. Maybe, it’s the necessity to get him out of her home or the flying atrocity of her train of thought that has him stumbling backwards in one of those moments. In just his boxers, the prickling of the grass and the flowers in Mia’s garden caress and poke at his skin, tickling in enormous amounts just as he falls into the most embarrassing position he has been in.

The moonlight seeps over his skin, a groan ripping from the depths of his soul at the ache on his back when he hears the window closing, not without a few words from Mia: “And don’t you dare call me again, asshole.” And maybe, he would have laughed at the stupidity of the statement, because throwing someone out of a window is definitely not a reason to call someone back, but now, he’s much too surprised and in pain.

### 

She wishes she was back to being a kid.

It’s a thought she has when the days are tough and uncertainty fills her, like a vase that is neither half full or half empty, but just stuck. In this town, with a job that she had wished for years ago, that takes away every ounce of will and thrive that she ever had. Days are tiring, nights even more so, and sometimes, she wishes the lake would stop being so calm. For it to be some movement, some waves, some dance of life that tells her: ‘this is something new and I give it to you because you deserve it’.

Instead, she’s walking alongside Erika, whose little feet in her elegant tiny boots are kicking a rock on the sidewalk. They had decided to walk for another block near the hotel, houses scattered in their glow in this enchanting night. It’s a moment of quiet, and she relishes on it, sending a look to the rock and to the little girl, just in case she’s not warm enough or she’s tired.

Oh, how she wishes she was tired.

Erika calls out her name, soft and through a pout, in a way that makes her sound like her age. Very much little a baby. “…Why do…why do girls your age never like boys?”

“What do you mean?” She questions, a smile on her face when sparing Erika a glance. A shrug is given. “I think boys are cool. Not all boys, but some are.”

“Mom doesn’t like my dad, and he’s a boy.” That must be the way she explains her parents’ divorce, but how she’s involved in that? She has no idea. “You…you don’t have a boy. I never hear you talk about boys.”

You see, she hasn’t dated in a while. A while as in…years. Comes to be, building trust into someone after having another person shatter it for you is not only difficult, but somehow near impossible. A plane ticket had said farewell to her in-person relationship and she had embarked in this immense long-distance relationship with too many tears and too much longing. He was distant after a while, and she blamed it on time differences…

Time differences that were proven to be someone else when she called him to tell him she had saved money for seven months just to visit him, only to hear him with another woman.

Another woman who claimed to be his girlfriend of four years.

Not one. Not two. Not three. Not even three and a half. Four.

“I don’t know.” She starts, trying to find the best way to say this. “We don’t always need a boy, Erika. Us girls, we don’t. The only people we need are our family, our friends and ourselves. Princesses can still be pretty and have a lot of people looking up to them without a prince.”

“Like Moana?”

“And Merida.” She completes, a smile on her face when she tugs the little girl up to scoop her in her hold. “Your mom has a hotel and she takes care of it very well without a boy. That doesn’t mean your daddy is not important, but they are happy even when he doesn’t have a girl and she doesn’t have a boy.”

“Then,” Erika plays with the collar of her white button-down. “We all have to be in pairs?” She stops.

“You mean couples?” Erika nods. “Oh no, honey, not all of us have to be in pairs or be part of a couple.” She chuckles at Erika’s innocence. She must be a bit insufferable, but still a kid. With the nightly air blowing at her face, she sighs. “We can all be with anybody, depending on who we like, girls…boys…your mom has told you that, right?”

Humming, Erika opens her mouth to speak up. “Yep.”

“Good girl.” She coos, smiling in the process. “Do you know what decision means?”

“Yes.” Erika conquers. “Carrots or potatoes, like that.”

“Exactly. What you choose is your decision.” She’s trying to make this easy for her. “Your mom doesn’t have to love a man, because that is her decision. As long as she loves herself and you, she’s already complete.”

“And you?” Erika questions.

She hadn’t thought about it in years. It didn’t feel right to be next to someone else, and she doesn’t know if that falls on her a little bit. Loneliness is inherent, this wandering thought that comes to her when she stops and wonders if there is someone out there. Not to complete her, because she’s already full by being on her own, but to support her.

“I am complete, too.” The answer is simple, tucking a strand of Erika’s hair behind her curved little ear. “So are you.”

“I am complete!”

“Yes, you are.”

Something interrupts them just as they pass by a cream-colored house. A groan comes from the flowers planted in the front-yard, and that has her stopping. Flowers don’t talk, obviously, but if someone is hurt—a dog or a human, she has to check.

More groaning and then, she sees a peak of milky skin under the moonlight, paired with tousled black hair. A man is standing in between the bushes, with his lower half thankfully covered by the plants, a short small nose, decently sized lips and a face that speaks anything but a good time.

And he’s half-naked. Only in boxers.

Her hand comes upwards to cover Erika’s eyes just as a loud gasp leaves her lips and she screeches: “Pervert!”

“No, no, no!” The man in question shushes her, lowering his body until even his taut chest and abdomen are covered. His eyes widen comically, and she has to shut her mouth to hear him speak. “I’m not a pervert, I promise! I know this looks wrong but—”

“You’re hiding in the bushes without clothes on, sir. This is definitely something illegal—”

“I was with a woman,” He sends a look towards Erika, levelling his words just because a kid is there, trying to snatch her hand away, but its grip is tight like iron. “And she threw me out because we had a break-up. Kind of. Not serious enough to call it a break up but…my clothes are inside and she won’t let me in. I’ve tried for such a long time. I was hiding until someone passed by but…no one did.”

Still far away from him, she quirks an eyebrow. This relatively, conventionally handsome man had been kicked out by a woman…almost ass-naked?

Talk about an attitude.

“Well, I’ll call someone over to help you out—” She’s about to move again, not completely trusting the man in the bushes when he calls her over with a hiss from his lips. A mix of ‘psst!’ and ‘hey!’ that obnoxiously makes her stop to turn around, still covering Erika’s eyes. “What?”

His eyes glisten when he says: “Help me.” He must be some kind of boss. The stranger says these two words like she has to do it, and she would have turned around again had it not been for those plush lips saying: “Please.”

“What do you want?” She questions, only to have him smiling.

Oh, there is a dimple there. A very profound and albeit, a bit attractive, dimple.

“Clothes.” The stranger adds. “Can you buy me some clothes? I promise I’ll pay you. I just need to get out of here. I think a cockroach bit me in the ass.”

“Language.” She spits out, just as Erika tries to wiggle away from her hold and repeats:

“Ass!”

“Erika!”

“Sorry.” He says again, bringing his hands together in a plea before sighing out: “I need them right now.”

She fixes Erika’s hold around her body, before rolling her eyes hard enough so she cans see the back of her head. “Fine. I’ll find you some clothes.”

###

Erika won’t take care of the family business. She’ll be a stylist, for sure. 

The only thing opened at this hour of the night that doesn’t cost her a big portion of her salary is the thrift store and after endlessly explaining the situation to a very eager Erika, she is watching the little girl moving around the store as if she owns it, grabbing clothes here and there in a hassle.

“Erika, be careful. We can only pick three pieces of clothing!” Not that the teenager by the counter cares, popping his bubblegum in between his thin lips, looking down at his phone and tapping on it with a speed that a piano player would envy.

“We have to make him look cute.” Erika tries to say in her most professional voice, and she has to sigh. She will definitely not become a mother anytime soon.

“Yes, but we also have to make it cheap. I don’t have much money in this suit.”

“Yes, yes.” Somehow, she feels like Erika is not listening, pulling at a t-shirt on a table nearby, only to unfold it and give it to her. Her body is so small that she couldn’t see the imprint on the front. As her babysitter of the night, she expands it over her chest, only to watch something within Erika lighting up. “I like it!”

“Good,” She checks the price after muffling a laugh at the words written at the front. “It’s cheap. We can get it.”

Small steps patter against the tiles of the grand store before she’s tugging at the leg of a pair of pants she found on a rack, too tall for her to grab.

“This, this, this, I want this!”

Those ones are a little bit pricier, but when she gets them out of the rack, a smile finally spreads through her features. She has to get it. “You have a gut for styling, little one.”

Erika straightens her back in pride, fisting her small hands before nodding. “Thank you. Want me to buy one for you?”

She chuckles at her words. Definitely not, but she masks it by saying. “We don’t have enough money tonight. Another time.”

### 

Props to the man whom now she knows is called Jung Yoonoh…he doesn’t look half as bad in those clothes as anyone else would.

The milky way spreads on Erika’s pupils when she leans on the table that she had taken up in the hotel’s restaurant a little bit over an hour ago. Her line of sight is filled with none other than Yoonoh, whom she had practically cried to just to invite him to have dinner with the two of them. Erika has practically eaten her weight in Oreo milkshakes, but she can’t quite say she is not starving by the time she slips into the leather seats and she smells the delicious cooking from the kitchen.

Compare that to the bland sandwich she has in her locker.

The little girl talks even out of her elbows. Yoonoh, however, patiently listens, trying to keep up with the grand story she has for the outfit she had picked for him. That explains why people take second-glances towards him. Not that he is not handsome enough; the lighting at that house his girl had kicked him out of did not do justice to his chiseled, quite carved face, but there is something about his clothing that captures most of the attention.

A pair of pink flip flops that Erika had picked up at last after they both forgot about shoes. Tight red leather pants that showcase the strength and curve of his thighs, quite lean, elongated legs that she had taken a second look at when seeing him out of the bushes with some clothes on. And, how to forget the old, quite used black tank top that reads: ‘With a body like this, who needs a personality?’.

She had laughed when she saw him.

Her fingers dip her fries on some ketchup by the time Yoonoh does so, sparing her a glance over Erika’s shoulder when the little girl says:

“My friend doesn’t need boys.” The girl adds, wrapping her hands around her mouth before saying. “But don’t feel offended, she still finds boys cool.”

“Some of them.” She corrects, connecting her gaze with Yoonoh’s just as the man leans back on his seat, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Oh, words from a broken heart. Who hurt you?” He questions, quirking one of his eyebrows before taking a bite of the fried chicken he had insisted on getting. Something about those brown eyes seem to capture her perfectly, as if reading her like a book…and she doesn’t like it.

“I’m just too busy to care.” Her voice wavers the slightest when letting out her excuse and then, she scoffs. “You know, that happens when you’re the manager of a hotel.”

“Understandable.” Yoonoh nods a few times before that dimple appears again. “Too busy to care or too busy to date?”

Her face burns by the time Yoonoh asks that question, pleased with the way she widens her eyes. “When did we decide to make me the subject of our conversation?”

“You saw me half-naked, I get to know something about you other than the pressed suits and the obvious distrust issues.” Yoonoh’s tone is playful, that smile never erased from his features, while her frown deepens. She can’t say he’s not correct, but he’s also poking at her nerves with his words.

“I don’t have trust issues.”

He hums. “Your first reaction is to say no to everything. You deny every word that is thrown your way.”

“Because I happen to think guys like you just feel like they know it all.” She comments, taking the same position as him while crossing one leg over the other. Erika just looks between the two, trying to understand this conversation to no avail. “You read and read people, but I can read you well, Yoonoh.”

He expands his arms, showing that ridiculous shirt. May be half true, his body is great, and his personality may be a little bit insufferable. “Read me.”

“Bachelor with a good job who has that ‘rise and grind’ mentality. Don’t take relationships seriously. Can’t look past what’s in front of him and oh, trust issues, too.” She relishes on leaning over the table, watching as his eyes concern the rest of her face, taking in her every feature before his gaze delves down to the fold of her shirt, no buttons opened, but he’s trying to see something there.

“You want me to look at what’s in front of me?” He questions. “It’s you. Didn’t know that was your way of flirting with me. Guess I really do have to thank you for the…outfit.”

“And me!” Erika raises her hand, waiving it in the air happily.

His tutting tone changes when smiling at her. “Thank you, Erika.”

“Who hurt you, Jung Yoonoh?” She questions, mocking the tone he had used on her and trying to stop a smile from appearing on her lips. So, playing around with him is fun, as it seems.

He stops for a moment, as if thinking. The curve of his mouth falls down the slightest and she hears a breath-in that she overthinks about, noticing that there is pain in even the brightest of people. Instead, he shrugs. “I haven’t gotten my heart broken.” Yoonoh says, playing with the strands of his hair, curves of his arms contorting. “Want to be the first to break it, sweetheart?”

“You wish.” She scoffs, only to have Yoonoh dipping more of his fries in ketchup.

“You wouldn’t even kill an ant.” Yoonoh swats without importance. “I doubt you’d break my heart.”

“I wouldn’t want to break your heart, and that’s what differentiates us.” She points between them. “Good cop, bad cop.”

“Excuse me.” A tender voice cuts through the air around us, a young-looking guy with innocent features and glasses too big for his face waves a Polaroid camera in his hold when nearing them. “May I take a picture of you? I have a photography project for a class I’m taking in college and I need to take pictures that bring nostalgia and warmth. I happened to think your little family could be the perfect subject.”

Before she could fully deny they are a family, Erika is wrapping both her little arms around their shoulders as she settles at the center of the table, smiling at the camera. “Cheese!”

Two pictures are taken before she could fully bring a smile to her face, her eyes connecting to Yoonoh’s over the table in a look that she can’t quite recognize. His smile has erased but still, he’s the one to take the picture when the college student says:

“One for you, one for me.” He says, bowing slightly. “Thank you.”

With that, he is gone, but the effect of his picture lingers when she realizes where she is. A complete stranger sits at the same table as her, trying to figure each other our while she should have put Erika to bed long ago, continue with her job and not even look to the sides to see whose lives are coexisting while she’s just working.

“Sorry.” She stands up, shaking her head at her own antics. Helped him, she had already done, and now she has no business to sit with him, grab a bite and just pretend that she doesn’t have things to do. Yoonoh looks up from the picture, eyebrows furrowed when she grabs Erika by the arms and hoists her up. “I—I have to work. I don’t…I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t be here with you.”

“Why?” Yoonoh questions, voice softened when she shakes her head.

“I just shouldn’t.” She finishes, not knowing quite well what this feels like. Casually flirting with a man like him means trouble. “Goodbye, Yoonoh.”

She says those words with the harshest weight of the world, turning around and rushing out of the restaurant while Erika screams out Yoonoh’s name in need for more fun in the night. Nonetheless, she feels someone’s eyes trailing after her, but she knows one look over her shoulder would only bring more questions to her head.

What was the universe trying to do when putting him on her road?

###

There is a picture in his wallet that doesn’t even begin to answer the questions roaming his head. As confused as in the beginning, Yoonoh remains.

He doesn’t know why he stares at it after finishing his meal during lunchtime, the office emptied out of people, flicking at the corner of the Polaroid he would not show anyone even if they paid him a billion won. He just wouldn’t. That ridiculous shirt and those obnoxiously tight pants that definitely gave him a carpet burn that he’s still feeling two days later, should have been enough of a reason not to wonder about the sudden change of mind the hotel manager had. 

Maybe, he had offended her. Though, she had kept on playing his game—and he half meant what he said. People like her are easy to read. Definitely an organization freak, perhaps a bit nerdy, with enough worries in her mind to fill an entire book. She wasn’t wrong about his trust issues either, but as he splays his fingertips on top of her placement in the picture, the only one who is not fully smiling, he ponders…

What’s about this girl that has his mind bringing her back all the time?

He closes his wallet just as he opens his sketchbook. A new one, because in his hassle, he had ripped the other that he had filled with all his dreams and hopes. He had crafted bodies, all in different sizes, to design something…and nothing had come to mind, not until he saw her again. That treasure hidden under baggy suits and clothes that he would have never looked at twice if only he hadn’t been captured by the naïve elegance in her face.

His eyes had tried to look, capture a glimpse of the curves around her body, and his imagination gave him more than what he could actually perceive. Yet, it had been enough. Flipping through his color scheme cards, he compares it to the vision he had inside his brain. Conservative, but still enough to feel powerful…

Violet. He doesn’t know why he picks it, but he does.

His fingers can’t stop sketching over the model he has on his sketchbook. He imagines lace and stain, draped thin pieces of clothing over the shoulders. Enough coverage for a one piece…and it comes to him in the form of a muse he would have never imagined. Someone who did not even show him anything, never gave him a chance to talk or fly, because that’s what he had never tried. What Silhouette had never stood for.

The people who are too shy to wear something like what they design.

Attractiveness is a feeling most people should get used to. Being looked at in an adoring light or have a flower thrown their way in the form of a compliment is desired, but has been lost in the eye of lust. Every word of adoration these days has been related to something—the imminent stoppage of the moment for the promise of sex. Never had Yoonoh thought of his designs as something more than a form of self-seduction, with the portrayal of self-love as a higher force for lust, but now, he sees it again.

Lingerie shouldn’t be seducing. It should be a weapon of beauty; a piece of clothing to be taken into consideration, colors that merge well with one’s personality. Not everyone is ready to fully unveil themselves in the light of the sexualized society we live in. Sometimes, people just want to feel nice fabrics against their skin or a glimmer of gorgeousness without showing everything.

The magic of designing is in delicacy.

The ideas come to him then. What was once a two piece for Yoonoh, now is one. What was once see-through, now makes up for riskiness in designs and curves, fabrics added to give more structure, instead of more nudity. Lingerie doesn’t have to be a thin layer of clothing—it can be beautiful, crafted and built.

His e-mail dings with a new entrance, stopping him on his third design as he envisions what must be under that suit—what would fit her and other working people for needing a boost, without actually showing the clothing to anyone but themselves, but soon enough, his face falls at Siyeon’s e-mail.

Subject: The Boss Wants You to Work.

Greetings, my beloved Yoonoh,

Silhouette has been known for its strong stance in the fashion community, and I have been pleased to land a runway show for us in, specifically, twenty-nine (29) days. In light of this, I send you the list of things you have to do:

1)   Design a set for the main male model of the runway, Kim Jungwoo. It has to be a showstopper if you want to keep working with him. I need this to be sent in 6 days.

2)   Find a nice and not as expensive place for the publicity photoshoot to take part on. I don’t want simple. I need ravishing visuals.

3)   Talk to the newbie models and make sure that said day, the stylists don’t screw up.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Jeon Siyeon.

Yoonoh rolls his eyes before starting to type a reply. The devil must be in front of her computer.

Subject: [RE]: The Boss Wants You to Work.

Hello,

I had already started working on a female set. I’m a female lingerie designer. I think I am not the one in charge of Jungwoo’s outfit.

Sincerely,

Jung Yoonoh.

The response comes just as he begins scrabbling his ideas into paper once again.

Subject: Who asked?

I want you to work on Jungwoo’s outfit. See if you get better while working on boxers instead of bras.

Not as sincerely,

Jeon Siyeon.

Spreading one hand on top of his sketchbook, he rubs the bridge of his nose before he breathes in deeply. Okay, now it seems like he has to craft something for a model that he doesn’t even know about, as well as finding the place for a photoshoot. An assistant, he seems to be now, and Siyeon’s, nonetheless.

But a place comes to mind, soon enough.

###

Devastation comes short to the wails that leave the kid’s lips. That speaks of pleas and pain.

Over a week of Sachiko coming up with different meetings had led up to an expected, yet somewhat uncalculated, road trip to where she hopes to build her second hotel. That said, she won’t stay for a day or two, but for the entirety of two weeks away from Erika. The daughter that now clings onto Sachiko like a koala, hiding her face in the crook of her neck, black hair matching her own as she cries uncontrollably.

Sachiko is at her apartment’s doorstep, luggage by the side of her elongated legs, as she shushes her daughter with a worried gaze. “You’re going to be okay, baby.” Then, she calls out her name, trying to wipe the tears in her eyes with just one hand. “You’ll be taken care of…and I will be back before you know it.”

“Why do you leave?!” Erika screeches, and Sachiko tries her best to reason with her, but her own whines are stopping her.

So, with her pajamas and tiredness lingering within her, she places a hand on top of Erika’s back. “Because your mom wants you to have a great life, Erika. She wants to buy you all you need and for you to have dreams as big as hers.” Maybe, she won’t get it now, but it’s the best she can do to explain the situation.

It manages to make Erika turn around, blinking her tears onto her cheeks. “I don’t want her to go.”

“We’ll mark the calendar…and she’ll come soon enough.” She whispers out, and it’s at this moment that she regrets saying yes to Sachiko when she asked her to take care of her daughter for a little while longer.

A little while longer shouldn’t mean two weeks.

Still, Erika doesn’t let go of her mom. She’s glued to her.

“I made you some hot chocolate, and I have some pudding that I prepared for me earlier.” Because sugary sweet meals seem to make her feel better in these days of uncertainty. This makes Erika widen her eyes, looking back at her mom before questioning her with a small smile.

“There you go, there’s my smiling baby.” Sachiko finishes, putting her daughter down before looking down at her watch. “My taxi is waiting for me. You can call me tomorrow, Erika, okay?”

“Yes, mommy!” But Erika is already moving towards the kitchen to grab a mug of that sweet, sweet hot chocolate.

She knows sweets are her weak point.

The only weak point she has.

“Make sure she sleeps early, okay?” Sachiko says, and all she can do is nod.

“Sure thing.” I can’t promise a thing, she thinks.

“And that she doesn’t eat too many sweets. I’ll let this one slide.”

“Only veggies.” She says as she grabs her doorframe in between her hold. Only to give her something sweet after she throws the veggies at my face, her mind replies.

“Thank you.” Sachiko adds over her shoulder, a smile to her face. “I know it’s difficult, but I really don’t have any family to take care of her and I really do trust you. I promise to pay you well after all this.”

That’s a nice start.

“Don’t worry. Me and Erika get along well.” That’s not a lie, but taking care of a kid is extremely tiring. “Just get in your taxi. We’ll be fine.”

With that, minutes pass by of complete silence, Erika’s eyes trained on her phone, blasting Peppa Pig, with one or two hiccups escaping here and there as she drinks her first mug of chocolate. She joins her, slicing another bit of cake and shrugging off whatever thought appears inside her brain.

The chocolate merges on the roof of her mouth, warming her to the tip of her toes, each aching muscle after hours of working relaxing, even a bit entranced by the show she’s not watching, but might be brain-washing her just like the rest of the kids.

“Another one, please.” Erika says after finishing her episode, extending her mug of chocolate towards her before she smiles sweetly.

She shakes her head. “Mom said no sweets.”

“Please?” The little girl drags with dulcetness in her tone, but she repeats the previous action.

“Nope.”

Erika places the mug down, head laying low before she repeats: “Chocolate, please!”

“I said nope.”

The kid stops for a moment, thinking as the sound of the dishwasher starting up as she cleans the mugs and the plates, and just then, her small voice is heard again:

“You don’t give me chocolates because you’re sad about Yoonoh?”

That makes her halter all steps. Yoonoh. The man that she had met days ago. Adonis without a shirt on, and then some weird 2011 wannabe that happened to have dinner with her and Erika. The lingering flirtations between the two had not been forgotten, those pair of eyes that somehow seemed to want to strip her of her utmost secrets, only for her to back away.

Yoonoh means trouble.

“I am not sad about Yoonoh.” She adds, turning around with her damp hands ending up over her waist. “Why do you think I’m sad about him?”

“Because he’s your boy!” Erika screeches as if it’s the most obvious thing, and she’s starting to get tired of the kid’s insane romanticism mixed with optimism. Sure, she’s a kid, but Disney should start making less princesses with a prince. “Mommy explained it to me.”

“What did she explain?” Not that she’s understanding a thing, but please, she does need to be enlightened.

“I asked mommy how people acted when they were in pairs.”

“When they are couples.”

“Yep!” The grin on her chubby cheeks is enchanting, but by what she’s saying, she’s about to ask Sachiko to pick her up again. The love talk is not her thing. “And she said boys smile a lot and they speak weirdly, like things I can’t understand.” That is a way to put it. “And the girl looks down a lot…and I don’t remember what else she said, but you did all those things with Yoonoh. He is your boy!”

“Boyfriend, not boy.” She corrects, turning around to continue to wash the dishes. Was he smiling at her? She had seen the dimple, but she hadn’t thought that he had beamed around like a madman. “And he’s not my boyfriend. I don’t have one.”

“But why?” Erika drags her voice.

“We already had the talk of Moana and Merida.”

“I get that. I’m like them. I don’t want to be with boys.” She utters innocently, standing up to tug at her sleeve. “But you are with Yoonoh.”

“Oh, no.” She shakes her head, laughter escaping her lips. “You hit your head, Erika.”

“I didn’t!” The little girl says, scratching her head just in case. “You’re a princess. He’s a prince—”

“Erika!” She stops her, interrupting her with ease before sighing. “I met Yoonoh the day we saw him, and I didn’t like him that way. We aren’t even friends.”

She juts out her lip. “I wasn’t friends with Mina either.” That’s Erika’s best friend from school. “But we became friends in a day. She put a worm in the teacher’s sandwich…” Her voice becomes soft, a blush appearing on her face. “It was awesome.”

“It’s different for adults.” That’s the best way to put it. She shakes the water away from her hands after closing the faucet before patting them dry on a towel. “What would you do if I said I disliked Yoonoh?”

“Nothing.” She adds. “You said you liked cool boys, and he’s a cool boy.”

He’s an overachieving asshole with a nice smile that could potentially enter her heart if she let him, but that should and would never happen. That’s who he is.

“Erika, I’ll tell your mom to ground you if we keep this conversation up.”

That seems to make her stop, grabbing her phone once again—and she knows the password, which is even worse, kids in this generation are geniuses—, before adding: “Does Peppa have a boy?”

“Oh my God, no!”

This will definitely be a long night.

###  

His mind is blank. Absolutely blank. Lingerie for men is even more difficult than lingerie for women. 

Jungwoo gives another walk on the stage, bleached blonde hair barely moving with each step he takes. He’s in the simple designs, the first launch of Silhouette, as bland as bland can get, and while his strut is fine, he can’t think of anything. Nothing that couldn’t be just a simple pair of boxer briefs thrown on a model. He could do that, but that’s so common, so plastered on paper. He wants to do something else, and yet, in the day of the photoshoot, he can’t think of anything.

“Why are you making me do this?” He met Jungwoo a few days ago, and he was actually quite surprised to recognize who he is. A runway model that has been around the world and all over fashion weeks. His dulcet personality and tall frame have gotten him somewhere, that’s for sure. “I should be already in my clothes and ready to take pictures.”

“I have nothing.” In the middle of the hotel’s ballroom, Jungwoo stops walking at the sound of Yoonoh’s voice. The designer looks down at his sketchbook, where he had made the drawing of a body similar to Jungwoo’s and still, nothing came to mind.

“…You have to have something.”

“A pair of black boxers.” He turns the sketchbook around just as Jungwoo slips a robe over his body and ties it securely. “Better than white boxer briefs, sexier, too. All the women I’ve been with likes them.”

“I won’t model that.” Jungwoo conquers, a lightweight laugh following after. “Those look like plain cotton boxers.”

“Well, I just don’t know what to design. Either I make you look tacky or I make you look bland. There is no in-between.”

“That bad?” Jungwoo questions, taking a seat next to him before grabbing a water bottle. “People are going to be here any minute. Everyone has decorated and I’m not sure my manager will be happy to hear that I came here just for nothing.”

A look is spared to the model, with Yoonoh shaking his head softly. He has to think of something. He can’t give Siyeon the benefit of seeing him tuck with a simple design.

His pencil taps against the drawing for a few seconds before he breathes out a few words: “You’re okay with being more covered?”

Conservative and elegant is more of what he has been aspiring for, with that peek of skin that makes the world go around. It’s what he has been drawing these days, but mostly with a muse in mind.

“Sure. I wasn’t over the moon thinking my ass was going to be out in the world.”

Yoonoh chuckles at that, turning the page around from the plain black boxers before sketching something else. “How about a crop top? With a fabric similar to a bralette, and you look better in red than you do in black.” He draws a diagonal line across the ribcage, making slitted long sleeves to showcase pieces of biceps, filling it up with the color red in a quick hassled manner that he will fix later. “Maybe some chains and garments around that wrap up to your waist.”

“I like that.” Jungwoo announces when looking over his shoulder.

“I’ll keep the black boxers. I still think they are classics, and I can talk to the management team to make them more than just cotton.” Yoonoh announces, soon after looking at the picture before clicking his tongue. “I think there’s something lacking.”

“Dunno. You’re the designer, but I’d wear this out of the runway.”

That’s something good, but Yoonoh is thinking of something else. People in real life transcending into their own confident version. That’s what he wants to portray. He draws a suit jacket draped over his shoulders, falling onto his long legs until it reaches midway through his calves, before sketching a pair of pants on the side. Loose, simple, highlighted in the waist.

“We could connect do something like…like suspenders. Office guy turns into midnight God.” Once again, he’s sketching. “You’d wear this, the crop top underneath but I have no idea how you’d show the boxers.”

“Make them low cut.” Jungwoo suggests, eyes trained on his phone momentarily when he crosses one leg over the other. “That way, the boxer’s band will be showing, and it will have Silhouette’s name there. I’d take off the jacket to show the statement piece.”

Yoonoh thinks about it, erasing the line at the waist before drawing the band, and his eyes glimmer at the image underneath him. Not as bad as he imagined it.

“Your ideas are good.”

“Thanks, I’m not just a pretty face.” Jungwoo jokes around, only standing up when the doors of the ballroom come open.

The theme of the photoshoot is simple. A party at the eighties, with beaming colors and disco balls. Darkened walls, confetti, everything has been added to highlight the idea Yoonoh had come up with. Nonetheless, his team is not the one barging in the room when the doors open, instead, he’s met with another darkened suit and a serious face that stares down at her agenda.

“Morning, people. I’m sorry I’m late. I was figuring out an issue at the penthouse, but I am here to help you with any form of decoration or with any question you may have.” The hotel manager stands there. Not that Yoonoh ever pondered they could not meet each other when he had specifically picked her hotel—he had walked through when entering the restaurant, and the three-stars help with the price, but the decorations are immaculate. Architecture its utmost beauty.

Now that he sees her, a smile spreads across his features. Maybe, a bit too soon—in a way that has him pushing it down because it is not possible to get that reaction out of him when it’s not faux. That woman had stood him up without even much of a reason, in the literal sense of the word, took those pretty legs away from the seat and walked away after they had been having fun.

He wore those leather pants. She owed him not leaving him in the middle of a restaurant with her meal and his to pay.

When she looks up at him, a few sentiments flash before her eyes, but he can’t guess any of them. He breathes out her name, capturing her off guard when she questions:

“You remember me?” Her voice is levelled as she moves forward, with a tinge of curiousness.

Yoonoh shrugs his shoulders in his fitted black sweater, paired with dark ripped jeans. “I wasn’t shitfaced. Just half-naked.”

That makes her frown deeply when she looks up at him again. “Don’t you dare say that out loud in front of anyone.” Soon after, she’s talking to Jungwoo. “I—Don’t listen to him. I’m the manager of this hotel and I have no business with this man.”

Jungwoo lifts his hands in the air. “None of my business, but please, do let me hear.”

He doesn’t know why it surprises him that Jungwoo likes gossip. “Why? You’re embarrassed of helping me out?”

“You’re saying it with double intentions.”

Yoonoh chuckles. “I wasn’t intending on anything the night we met.”

“Oh, come on.” She rolls her eyes, making him raise his eyebrows. That cynic voice in her is not something he expected. “We both know what kind of intentions you have with everyone. It seeps from you.”

“Seeps from me?”

“You had no issue going with some stranger after being kicked out of your…your hook up’s house and you were smiling and using those eyes on me and buddy,” She stops, a short laugh leaving her lips. Her index finger extends to point at him. “I’m not a charity case. I’m not in need of a man. I don’t need you to come around and cause me trouble, okay? If you’re here just to tease me instead of letting me do my job, then we’re off to a bad start.”

Offended is short for what he feels. Sure, he may not make a big deal out of hook ups, but it’s not like he’s the easiest man in the world. And if he was, why does she care?

“You’re the one talking about my eyes. I never made eyes at you.”

That makes her stop, holding her agenda to her chest before patting her ponytail in place. “Okay. Fine.”

“You just think you’re so much better than you, don’t you?” Yoonoh spites, crossing his arms across his chest, never once raising his voice.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, yes, you take care of your boss’ child. You’re so sweet and kind. So in synch with yourself you need no one’s company…” He trails off, pointing them out with the sharpness of his words. “That’s fine, but it’s not fine when you point fingers at people for being with other people. The twenty-first century is calling, they are here to say you can show someone your ankles without losing all sense of rightfulness.”

Scoffing, she shakes her head, a sarcastic smile appearing on her features. “Yoonoh, I know men like you.” She starts. The typical stance people have of him. Men like him. “You’re a…around with a bunch of women, and you use your good looks to your advantage, never care about anybody but you, never take anyone out on a date—”

He gets closer at that moment, lowering his eyes onto her lips before connecting them with hers. “…You wanted me to take you out on a date and that’s why you’re mad about me being a thot?”

“No!”

His hand reaches for one of her ears, laughing when he feels the heat. “Your ears are hot. Have something to tell me?”

“Where’s the person in charge of this photoshoot?” She slaps his hand away, turning to Jungwoo who has the biggest grin on his features.

“Oh, it’s him. The asshole Jung Yoonoh.” Jungwoo conquers with a flick of his finger before he expands his hands in front of them. “But please do continue. I love a good drama.”

“You?!” She gasps that word out as if it’s venom, a sharp intake coming after.

“Me.” Yoonoh retorts, a smirk appearing on his face. “And I happen to have lots of questions about this ballroom.”

He doesn’t, but he enjoys his next thirty minutes, trying to get the offense out of his body by having her carrying boxes—not heavy, but definitely bothersome when ordered by him—and giving her his phone number wrongly three times as she finished up the contract and the bill for the rent of the ballroom. Exasperation is short for what she feels, but as she’s working on that bill, he realizes something.

The shirt underneath her suit is a sunshine yellow, and he may change violet from the position of his desired color on her, because yellow makes her beam like never before. It gives her a powerful stance, standing out even in between seas of models posing around.

Though what she thinks of him has been a repetition of what he has heard before, somehow, he cares a little bit more when it comes from the one woman that has inspired him to do better with his designs. Not that she even cares about his position as a designer.

For her, he’s only another asshole who uses people to his will, and that’s only half correct.

###  

“The sexual tension was so thick I had a hard time breathing. Seriously, it was like when I used to steal rated magazines when I was young!”

The maids cheer and giggle to themselves when Blue spits out another version of the story that she and Yoonoh supposedly wrote yesterday afternoon in the ballroom. She has to play with the lettuce of her sandwich, cheek squished against her palm as she watches Erika stare in between the seas of women, following after every reaction even when she doesn’t understand them.

“Blue, don’t say such words in front of Erika.” She tells them, biting on her densely sauce-coated sandwich, before breathing out softly. How could they think of Yoonoh as a dream when he’s obviously a womanizer dressed in sheep’s clothing?

Or the devil. He’s definitely the devil.

“Whatever.” Blue, in her eighties, moves the skirt of her gray uniform before picking up one of the maids. One of the youngest and the tallest, with a long black fringe and moon-bathed features. Chaewon, she thinks her name is. “He told her: ‘Need help with those boxes’?” She lowers her voice to be a faux deep vibrato. “And she said: ‘No, I can do it myself. Thank you.’” That time around, her voice lifts up.

“I don’t speak like that.”

“And then, he retorted by saying: ‘I know, but my arms are waiting to hold something. I think you’d rather it be boxes.’”

More screeches and giggles follow after that statement, and she rolls her eyes because he did say that.

Chaewon ends up being swooped over, rolled around in Blue’s hold before she’s cooing. “I was expecting him to lower her down and give her that kiss that she was definitely asking for with her gaze,” She imitates the actions by looking down at Chaewon. She’s an actress, even at such an old age. “She kept looking at his lips before she cut him off, and you had to say the way his eyes lingered on her…”

“Where was he looking?” One of the maids asks, organizing the towels in their little eating room when Blue lets of Chaewon to let her sit somewhere else.

“He wasn’t looking.” The manager defends, ears heated up…but because of the golden lights here, definitely.

“Everywhere! There was not a portion of her that he simply did not worship with his gaze alone. He wanted to ravish her like—”

More heat, and maybe, summer is coming around earlier than expected. “Blue, stop reading those romance books with naked men on the cover. They’re getting to you.”

Blue laughs at her antics, her curled gray hair jumping around when she takes a seat in front of her. She continues to bite on her sandwich. “Aw, come on, boss. You can’t expect us not to want to see you with that man.” She covers her mouth to lower her voice before whispering: “He’s sexy.”

“Jung Yoonoh is anything but that!” She defends, leaning back on her seat and trashing the last bit that was left of her sandwich. She opens her water bottle and gulps it quickly.

“Look at that heat!” One of the maids adds, and Chaewon nods in return. “How does he look like, Blue? He sounds like a dream.”

“Pecs over pecs over pecs. He had…” The oldest woman curves her hands in the air and the manager has to scoff.

“Stop thirsting over him.”

“His girlfriend over there will get jealous but you had to see that sweater on him. That man is lean and had the sweetest, prince-like face. But not the kind of prince that wants you for his kingdom, having you wearing proper dresses and greeting the crowd.” She stops for a second, thick silence lingering in the air before she adds. “But the kind of prince that sneaks you into the castle to show you ever room—”

“More sexualization, great.” Her knees buckle when she picks Erika up from her spot in between the maids. “I have a meeting with the valet team. You better stop talking about this if you don’t want me to talk with Sachiko about your disrespect towards our clients.”

She opens the door when Erika wraps her arms around her neck, turning around to wave to the maids. “Bye!”

“Bye-bye, honey!” Blue waves back, returning to the crowd to say: “And his hair—”

She has to close the door with a bang as a huff leaves her lips. Everything has been about Jung Yoonoh these days, but what is the sudden obsession to have her paired up with someone who will definitely shatter her to pieces?

Every thought about him shall be erased as soon as possible now that he has finished with his photoshoot. She won’t hear about Jung Yoonoh ever again.

###

“And then, she went on to call me a man-whore or something. Practically drawing me as the biggest scumbag to ever exist.”

It’s way over nine at night when he finally has the time to check over what the manufacturing team had done with the design that he had sketched for Jungwoo. He still needed to take his pictures for the event, asking the graphic design team to help him out with the deadline, but that’s the least of his worries. Johnny is by his side, lost in his phone as he listened to his story, being his support for another all-nighter.

He unfolds the blood red fabric of the crop top and smiles in delight. Fitted, with slits that could pierce well into the subject of edge, and some chains dangling in elegant curves towards the waist, with Swarovski diamonds in between. He continues to look through the pieces, pants and jacket as well, when he hears Johnny speaking up.

“She’s not wrong.” He says, still engraved on his phone. “You’re a bit of an ass and you haven’t been in a serious relationship ever since I met you. Even before that, you have been single and into hook-ups. Why are you bothered?”

“Because I am not like that. I don’t have the time to embark in a relationship, okay?” Yoonoh mutters out, placing the jacket down on the table to look at it more precisely. “She has this…this air of arrogance of thinking she’s better than me. I don’t know, like…she just thinks I am some kind of douchebag that gets to her nerves—”

“Yet, still you sketch her.” That is the moment he hears the pages of his sketchbook being flickered at. Yoonoh widens his eyes, turning around to close it just as he says:

“Let go of that!”

“They’re pretty. Don’t be a nerd about it.” Once again, Johnny has taken the sketchbook, turning around to keep it away from his hold. “Are you into BDSM or something? People talking down on you? Women hating you so badly that they are kinda into you?”

Hate. That word is enormous, and he wouldn’t like to use it when plotting what she feels for him. Strong dislike, let’s go with that. “I’m not.” He denies all allegations. “…You just have to see her.”

“Ass or tits?”

“Not that.” Yoonoh feels his own cheeks heating up as a smile takes over his features. Not that he had gotten to see a lot with how baggy her suits are, but attractive is short for how he would describe her. “It’s in the way she holds herself. She’s the quiet kind of powerful. With everyone, she is kind and understanding, and yet, her action speak louder than she does. She’s independent and doesn’t let anyone else help her, even if she’s over the top with assignments and—”

“And it kind of sounds like you’re paying a little too much attention to her.” Johnny closes the sketchbook at that moment, quirking an eyebrow at his friend. “What’s with you, Yoonoh?”

The man scoffs, shaking his head. “Nothing. Just saying. I’m so angry that she’s like that, I just—”

“No, you’re not angry. Real angry Yoonoh? It’s the kind of Yoonoh we see with Siyeon. Not this one, talking about how he loves someone’s kindness.” His eyes trail over to his sketchbook, then to the design for Jungwoo before he’s ripping one page out and jotting down a message for the manufacturing team. It’s alright, he just wants a few more diamonds. “Come on, man. Talk about it. Mama Seo used to say there are no secrets in this household.”

“What do you want me to say?” Annoyance seeps from his voice when he looks over his shoulder. “Yes, I was interested. Yes, I guess we kind of flirted. Yes, she still ran away and yes, she absolutely despises my guts?”

“…She blew you off.” Johnny says that as if it’s the biggest announcement in the world.

Yoonoh shrugs. “Yeah, so what? It’s not like I asked her or made it known—”

“For the first time in his life, Jung Yoonoh didn’t get blown, he got blown off!”

“Johnny, it’s not funny—”

“I have to see who this woman is.” Johnny gets his phone out of his pocket, opening his Instagram app before he’s lurking for her. “What’s her name?”

Maybe, curiousness got the best of him when he stands behind Johnny, looking over his shoulder when he rasps out her name.

“There we have her.” His friend announces just as he clicks on the first account. “Private. I can’t really see her face in the profile picture.” It’s the silhouette of a woman, most likely her, in a sunset. Her hands are fisted deep in her pockets and she must be looking at the sun. “Should I message her? Something like: ‘Hi, if you don’t want to date Yoonoh, I’m single and the second-best option’?”

He’s joking around, yet, Yoonoh stares longingly at that picture. Something about her is so lukewarm that he finds himself at peace. He has always liked everything scalding hot—his relationships, his hook-ups, his meals, even the days that he spends at the beach, but now, he is interested in silence and tranquilness. In that lukewarm nature that comes within her, never too cold, never too hot.

“No.” His voice sounds unused when he finally speaks up. “Leave her be.”

Johnny’s eyes inspect his features. “Dude…there is really something about her, isn’t it?”

“I’ll never know, I guess.” Yoonoh finalizes, shrugging his shoulders before moving towards the edge of the room and turning off the lights. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

###

“I won’t take a bath! I don’t want to!”

Five days from Sachiko’s arrival and she already feels like breaking. Breaking down or breaking out of her home, one or the other. Erika screams at the top of her lungs while rushing out of the bathroom, still very much in her pajamas, to sit down in front of her TV and watch another cartoon.

She throws the towel over her shoulder, eyes half-closing from tiredness when she breathes out softly and approaches her again. “Erika, get in the bath. It’ll be quick.”

The little girl shakes her head, hugging her knees to her chest. “I don’t want to.”

“Sometimes, I don’t want to either, but you have to.” She announces, taking a seat next to her to run her fingers through her hair. “Come on, Eri, it’s just a bath.”

“Nope.” The little girl mumbles, growing more annoyed by the second.

“You’ll stink. You don’t want anyone to smell your scent if it’s bad.”

“It’s okay.”

“Someone will come visit us.” She doesn’t know why that’s the first excuse she comes up with. Truth be told, none of her friends live in this city, and her family are nowhere near either. Loneliness is something she is used to, and she doesn’t like being the house’s host all that much, either. “And you really like them, so we need to bathe you before they come.”

Erika raises her eyebrows, a big smile appearing on her face: “Peppa?”

“No, not Peppa.” From the back of her mind, she can’t think of anybody who will come here that Erika really likes. She’s not entirely obsessed with Blue, and the woman is too old to take a taxi here. She is not sure who Erika likes apart from her…and Sachiko is not here. “Ah…” Think, think, think. “Yoonoh, my…uh…my boyfriend. He’s coming over.” 

The title makes her cringe, but Erika stands up in her couch, hair wild and little fists connecting to her shirt when she says: “He’s coming! You didn’t tell me!”

“Oh, I was just waiting for you to take a bath first.” She tries to sound smart, but this is the worst idea she could have. Sure, she saved his number when she was making that bill for the rented ballroom, but that has been about it. Never texted him, never planned to, much less to tell him to come over and pretend to be her boyfriend just so Erika takes a goddamned shower.

“I will! Hurray!” Erika moves away from the couch, rushing over to take off her clothes.

“I’ll go fill up the bathtub in a sec, okay?”

“Yes!”

This is the worst idea she has ever had.

By the time she hears the door to the guest room closing, she sighs deeply, going over to the kitchen to unplug her phone and look down at her contact list. Her heart is racing, eyebrows frowned in worry when she sees it in glimmering lights:

Jung Yoonoh (Never Respond. Not Even If You’re Dying).

She’s not dying, but she definitely feels like it.

Whenever she got a cut as a kid and she put a band-aid on it, she took the band-aid off in one harsh tug. It’d rip some hairs apart, but it wouldn’t hurt—it wouldn’t make her hesitate as much as she did. This is one of those decisions that need to be done that way; as if she’s drunk and she needs to call her ex, or as if buying that dress that she’ll never wear sounds like a good idea today.

The phone rings a few times and she paces back and forth in the kitchen, giving a few puffs out and jumping in place before she hears it.

“Hello?”

His voice is to die for. One of those melodies that anyone wants to hear when they are waking up, mumbling sweet nothings, promising whatever the hell sounds great at the time, and it’s so dangerous that it has her closing her eyes, trying to fight a shiver and not exactly of anxiousness.

“Yoonoh, I need your help.”

A bead of silence follows soon after, and it comes as a surprise when he mumbles her name. She hums in return. “Why are you calling me? How do you have my phone?”

“Don’t ask.” She tells him, about to start her rant when Yoonoh cuts her off with a deep chuckle.

“You stole it from my bill.”

Caught, yet, she places a hand on her waist. “I wanted to save it just in case you decided to call me and make my day more difficult.”

“Oh, if I called you, it’d be to ease any kind of stress.” He purrs out, making her groan out loud when a lighter laugh from him comes about. “What can I help you with, ice princess?”

“Stop it with the names.”

“Boss?”

“I said—”

“Stop it with the names, I know. I will.”

When there is another pause, she knows she can speak, so she does. “…Erika believes we are in a relationship.” He doesn’t scream at the idea or laugh straight at her face, so she sighs. “And she’s also like madly connected to you. Seriously, she never stops talking about you and how you were so cool and whatnot. She only agreed to bathing now that I told her my…” She clears her throat. Shit, this is awkward. “My boyfriend is coming to visit, but you’re my supposed boyfriend and you’re nowhere around. I was wondering if you could come over, I don’t know, for like thirty minutes and then leave, just to fulfill that promise.”

Another elongated silence comes soon after, but it’s followed by a hum from Yoonoh.

“You didn’t say we were friends,” He teases, and she rolls her eyes at his antics. “You still went on with the boyfriend thing. Something you want to tell me?”

“Erika thinks we are together.”

“Erika meaning you.”

“I would personally sew my lips if we were to be in a relationship, Yoonoh.”

He chuckles, though she hears some moving. “Why? You’d want to make out with me so badly that you would want to stop yourself?”

“You wish.”

“Kinda.” Yoonoh confesses and it sounds like a pin falling to the floor. It makes her anxious, because the idea of being trapped in his arms, mouths molding into each other, breaths mixing, tongue intertwining is not so bad when in theory. “So, where do you live?”

“You’re coming?”

“Yeah, but in like forty-five.”

With that, she gives him the address, only to hear Yoonoh breathing into the microphone.

“So, my dear girlfriend, my beloved future wife,” Those dramatics that come with him make her want to slice him in half, but she keeps on just for Erika. “…How long have we been together, exactly?”

“…Since my headaches started coming daily.” She responds, hearing pattering in the hallway. “Call me when you’re here, okay?”

Once she hangs up, she sees Erika ready for a bath by the kitchen’s door, waving her hands in the air.

“Let’s go!”

Kids are nightmares.

###

Epoch hats don’t fit him well, Yoonoh realizes as he sits on a little stool that barely can hold his weight, knees practically touching his chest as he plays tea-house with Erika and her babysitter. Or well, her mom’s worker that happens not to know how to say no.

Erika had gone over the top to make this a grand event, the Peppa Pig plushie he had brought with him when entering the apartment seated in front of Erika, while he stares ahead at the woman that has his mind a complete mess. She is wearing a pair of wings on her shoulders, and her clothing is different, still not letting him see much, but the baggy t-shirt and sweatpants still fit her nicely.

The roles are simple. Erika is the princess, and they are their Aunt and Uncle. Peppa Pig is her sister, and that’s about as much as he knows as he sips on the two-point-five milliliters of water with lemon that Erika dares call tea.

“More tea, please.” Yoonoh says when placing the small cup down and looking at the woman ahead of him. She is the one serving the tea, yet, she quirks an eyebrow at him.

“That’s your fourth cup.” She explains, shaking her head when he tries to reach for the tea. “You’ve already had enough. You’re doing it just to see me serving you.”

“While the sight is adorable, beautiful, this cup is the size of my pinky. I can’t even feel it going down my throat.” He waves the little cup in his pinky before trying to reach for the tea again. “I’ll serve myself if it makes you feel better.”

“You’re too sweet-mouthed…” She looks over at Erika, inspecting them with interest. “Sugarplum.”

“Sugarplum?” Yoonoh questions the nickname, pouring himself a cup of tea when snatching it from her hands before leaning his weight forward, taking a sip that has him downing the entire drink. “I’m not sweet, don’t know if you’re noticed.”

“Quite clearly.”

“May change my ways for you if you stop judging me.” His eyes trail over her features, the culprit of his playfulness spreading across his face.

“Oh, I happen to be very judgmental.”

“Get to know me,” He waves his finger on top of the cup, tracing the outline only to see her gulp soon after. “…I promise the last thing you’ll end up doing is hating me.”

Erika stands up in between the two, her little hands spreading on their chests when she says: “Princes and princesses don’t fight.”

“We’re not fighting, Eri.” She tells her, though she sends a glare his way. “Right, sugarplum?”

“Of course, beautiful.” He uses that same nickname, relishing on the way she seems to be seething at the name. Truth be told, he knows that she’s, at least, a bit attracted to him…but whatever is stopping her must be strong enough to have her stopping on her tracks that first night. His lips wrap up in a kiss he sends flying in the air before adding: “We actually love each other. My kingdom is now better because I have found my truest love.”

“Yeah…” She trails, looking over to the side before she takes a sip of her own tea. “How’s the collection going?”

That question surprises him. She must have supposed he was a designer, much more after all he did in her hotel, but he didn’t think she was paying attention from up close.

“It’s not a collection.” Sweetly, he corrects, voice lowered when he puts the cup down. “I—I’m only working on this one fit. An outfit. We design lingerie, as you could see. I’m normally in the women design department, but my boss which is an absolute…” He stops, looking at Erika. “Witch, changed me to the men’s department just to freak up my head.”

A small chuckle trips out of her lips at the choices of his cusses. “So, you were designing Jungwoo’s fit?”

“Precisely.” Yoonoh takes his phone out of his pocket before displaying something only for her to see. “Erika, you can’t see this. It’s…it’s not something you should be seeing, okay?”

And actually, she listens. Yoonoh can’t understand why she says that Erika never listens to anybody. Her eyes trail over to Jungwoo, and the way they scan up and down have something within him tugging his phone away.

“That’s my design.”

“You’re talented.” Those words shouldn’t weight as much as they do, but he hasn’t heard them in a while. Perhaps, in two years. “If only you weren’t so much of a butt-face whenever we speak, I’m sure that part of you would show through.”

“What part of me?”

“The part that doesn’t try to hide that you care.”

That’s the moment Yoonoh backs away, because he shouldn’t care. It’s easier to go through life without caring about the people around you. The small stool falls behind him just as he stands up, clearing his throat after a harsh swallow.

“I have to go.”

Erika stands up as well, eyes widened. “Is it because she called you butt-face?”

Yoonoh chuckles, ruffling her hair with one hand. “No, I—I think I left my stove on at home.”

He hears the sound of her picking up her keys, nodding in the process. “I’ll walk you there. Don’t worry. Erika, stay here.”

The hallway that leads to her door is far too cramped for the two of them, his shoulders brushing with hers as they walk alongside each other. The part of you that doesn’t try to hide that you care; it’s not like he cares about her past the normalcy of two people who happen to be attracted towards each other buy deny it—

He turns around, his chest expanding with each breath that she takes, oxygens mingling when he looks down at her features, those lips that he would have kissed if granted the permission, but instead he asks:

“Is that why you hate me?”

She doesn’t listen, a deer caught in the headlights when she questions: “What?”

“Because you think I don’t care. Is that why you hate me?” He questions, only to have her shaking her head. His fingers hook a strand of her hair behind her ear, feeling the heat of her skin, much like that one time he had touched it.

“I don’t hate you.” She confesses, honest and yet surprising, before she breathes out in a shudder. “…Sometimes, it’s better to not wonder, Yoonoh. Not be curious about people like you. Not because you’re bad, but because you’re not right, either.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Stop looking at my lips, it distracts me.”

Yoonoh trails his eyes up before engulfing the words in his plush lips. “And what about you?” He questions. “If I’m all types of wrong, what are you?”

“All the different types of wrong that aren’t yours.” She says, just as his chest brushes with her own again, her stomach extending, back bending, body molding closer to his just because of electricity and gravity, she opens the door, releasing a breath that feels like a million pounds of weight. “Good night, Yoonoh, and thank you.”

He nods, and while he wants to return the words, he can’t.

###  

Four Years Ago.

She never came back.

Sometimes, Yoonoh felt stupid for believing that there was someone in the other side of the computer. That said chatroom that had once started as complete curiousness had now turned into something else, tangible, present in his every day. He was young, his eyes wandered, his mind stopped thinking about the importance of his future and he thought that Dami was it. The woman of his dreams, the picture that he couldn’t take out of his head when he laid still at night and looked at his ceiling.

His friends made fun of him, because this is not the Jung Yoonoh that had gotten secret notes during Valentine’s Day in high school with love confessions and promises of marriage. This was a young man, seated in front of a computer, waiting for an answer. Waiting for the day she returned, after she said that she’d come back. It was only supposed to be a lunch break, but with no contact other than this chatroom, than what they had in social media, how was he supposed to get in touch with her?

JJH1997: Hey, did I do something wrong? (Three weeks ago.)

JJH1997: Hello! How are you doing? Are you okay? (Three weeks ago.)

JJH1997: I bought that one record you told me about. (One day and a half ago.)

JJH1997: [Picture Attached]. (One day and a half ago.)

JJH1997: Are you mad? (Thirteen hours ago.)

JJH1997: I’m sorry if I offended you. (One hour ago.)

The reply he got soon after, as he was studying for one of his finals, had him widening his eyes. She had not answered in weeks, this was the best news he could hear—

DAMISONG96: This is her husband. Who are you? (Just Now).

His hands shook, trying to find the words to say. Husband. All this time, he had been talking about a future with someone with a husband…

DAMISONG96: I’ve just read your messages. Stop talking to my wife, you fucking kid.

[This contact has blocked you].

The worst part was that he could never know if it was a catfish, if the person he talked about was real…or, actually, that he could never apologize, perhaps for ruining a marriage that he never knew of.

Love doesn’t come easy when you don’t know how to trust. 

### 

The reason why he became a lingerie designer instead of any other kind of designer is because of the subtlety. His friends think that it is because of the obvious love Yoonoh has for the human body, but as he sits on the front row of his own show, staring at the Silhouette designs his team had worked on, with harsh white lights matching the upbeat and bass-boosted songs that have models swinging their hips from side to side, he feels proud and more.

Jungwoo is the next one to come, and all signs of his beam is long forgotten as he struts down that runway. At first, he does it simply, how he’s taught, the buttons of his jacket are done, undoing them as he walks to showcase the crop top underneath, only pulling it down and turning around to throw the jacket aside and show the top and the chains, along with Silhouette’s name on the band of his boxers. It’s perhaps something not seen in the streets, but he can imagine celebrities falling in love with the design.

He’s concentrated on the faces of the people ahead of him, cheers resounding around the air as Jungwoo finishes off his catwalk. The invitees seem to be overjoyed, and just when a smile creeps up his features, fixing his stance in his tailored black suit, he feels a hand spreading on his thigh, a chuckle being breath out in his ear.

“You’ve done a great job, Yoonoh.” Siyeon speaks with certainty, and to anyone, they are just two friends congratulating each other. He does great work in feigning a smile when turning to her, but what he says is not so kind.

“Thank you. I’m known for that.”

“I know…if we don’t compare that to your organization problems and your endless witty mouth.” Siyeon starts clapping when another model comes around before a beam appears on her features.

Something doesn’t feel right.

“…And what about it?”

Siyeon’s long silver earrings move when she turns to him, quirking an eyebrow in the process. “Well, you see, Yoonoh, the reason why I wanted you to craft a showstopper and to leave with a bang is because…” The acids in his stomach go up, nervousness creeping up on him, trying to keep the dimples there to no avail. “You’re no longer going to be part of our team. Out of all the designs you’ve done, this is your best, but you proved yourself right a little too late. Sorry.”

She’s not sorry, and he knows this. The smile that he has fought so hard to keep there is no longer of his interest as he stands up, pointing at her while scowling.

“You can’t do that.”

“Yoonoh, you’re making a scene.” She tries to chuckle through her words.

“I’ve been working for this fucking company for two years and I haven’t slacked once.”

“Says you,” Siyeon shrugs. “I’m in charge, Yoonoh, and I saw you’re slacking.”

“Fuck you.”

“Have heard that before.”

The air around him engulfs him in a way that almost makes him feel like he’s trapped. He’s out of the expensive hotel Siyeon had found in seconds, but yet, he feels like he has run a marathon. His eyes concentrate anywhere, hand coming up to his chest, his dream shattered when trying to give this company another chance—

The night whisks him in the face as he runs, not caring to grab a taxi, not minding that he feels like his life is falling down…because this is stupid. Life is so fucking ironic that he hates it. He trusts people? He ends up losing. He doesn’t trust them? They never believe him.

What’s the realest way to get a happy ending? He’ll never know.

### 

Eight hours of sleep feel marvelous once she gets them back.

Not only has she gotten to return her calls, but it doesn’t smell like baby food in her apartment and she gets to take a break from Peppa Pig. Erika had been sad when letting go of her, pressing her face to her stomach in a hug before she was off to holding onto her mother for dear life. Her paycheck came around, life was good, and this night was excellent with the bag of savory chips she had just opened.

The crunch is the only thing that can be heard, mingling with the noise of the romantic movie she is watching, tears wielding her vision and yet, she pushes them away. Tragedies are the best form of romance—when both characters have gone through so much that finding happiness in each other feels a thousand times more personal. Perfect, even. It’s a nice chance for her romantic comedy binge from earlier.

The air is interrupted when she hears someone ringing her doorbell, and that brings a frown to her features. First, she’s not waiting for anybody. Secondly, she had been crying just now. Grabbing a napkin, she taps it against her ears and waltzes over to the door to see who is standing by the door through the peephole.

And if there was a sight that could capture her breath away just as much as it could make her be excited about something, it’s this.

Yoonoh stands outside her door, with the buttons of his shirt half-opened, a peak of his shirt showing, his jacket thrown haphazardly over one forearm, and if only this peephole let her see lower, she would relish on the strength of his thighs. Confusing or not, as well as a bit annoying, one can’t deny that Yoonoh is extremely handsome. Taken out of a magazine, even.

She opens the door softly, unaware of why he is there. Today, the runway for Silhouette should be happening and yet, he’s here, at 10:45 at night, with his hair made a mess and his eyes trailing on her.

“Yoonoh,” He doesn’t stop looking at her eyes, a frown in his features. “Hi…uh…may I help you with something?”

“You’re right.” He starts, entering her house just as she moves to the side. He must be in a rush. The door closes behind her. “I try not to care about things. I don’t take relationships seriously. I’m an asshole at most times. I’m fake and boring and quite clearly, all kinds of wrong.” Well, that is a statement. She knows there is some good for Yoonoh. He’s always one call away, he’s organized, he’s given. He’s strong and rampant and fiery, in that way that have people shuddering in their spots.

“So?”

“So, yes, I’m fucking tired of being that because it doesn’t work.” He stands in front of her now, in that same hallway that had trapped them weeks ago and had managed to make her even more confused. “I just lost my job and I don’t know what the hell I am going to do with my life. I was used and—fuck!”

Her heart weights down when he admits that. “Why would you lose your job? That outfit you designed for Jungwoo is amazing…”

“Because my new boss hates me, just like you do.”

“I said I didn’t hate you.”

“Then why?” Yoonoh questions. “Why did you run away that night? What about me is so repulsive that you can’t even look my way without frowning when all I have been thinking about since that moment I saw you in the restaurant, in nice light, after getting me some clothes, is that you’re the kindest and most humble woman I have ever met and I would do my fucking best to kiss away every fucking insecurity you have about me?”

Silence comes to be awkward around them. Or, well, filled with tension. But this silence is of understanding. Yoonoh’s eyes that night, that had scanned her with such intricacy, had thought about the same things that she did. And yet, she had let it slide—because it’s easier to fear than to try, to run away than to stay.

“Because…you’re difficult, Yoonoh.” She states. “And I don’t mean it in a bad way. I just know…I know I would like you.” That makes her ego blot down the slightest. “And then, when you realize that kissing me is not enough, that waking up to me is not enough, that I won’t give you whatever interesting shit you were doing when I found you outside that house, you’ll leave…and I’m not at an age or time in my life where I want to see you leave without an explanation. I don’t.”

He finally reconnects his gaze with her eyes. “The explanation here is simple,” He conquers. “You’re beautiful. Each part of you I get to see and each part I don’t. Every bit of my imagination can only think about you, so much that everything I design is everything my mind gushes about and can only perceive on you. It’s stupid enough that…” He chuckles at his own antics, leaning his head back on the wall. “That I think about what color fits you best and I am certain it’s not the navy blue you like to use. It’s yellow, because you’re so bright it practically burns my fucking eyes. You’re so smart and given and you don’t even let me tell you that, because you’re always…pushing me away.”

“Yoonoh—” Her heart flutters at his words, but he doesn’t stop talking.

“And you’re your own kind of goddess and it drives me insane, because I was the type of dumbass that didn’t like the chase, but each and every time I hear you speak, I just want to tease you more and…” He stops for a second, finally fixing his position to look at her. “I just wanted you to know, because if I’ll never get a chance, at least I want to say I—”

Silences are what made them. It’s what she likes the most about him, when he’s silent and concentrated, when all his might goes to one thing and one thing only. She doesn’t know what overtakes her at that moment, when her lips clash against his in a dance that it’s much too passionate. She can’t keep up with whatever she wants to do, her hands hooked around his waist to mold him against the wall, his abdomen carved against hers when a groan traps itself on the back of his throat and he grabs the back of her head, taking more of her in, granting himself entrance, rubbing his lips in a tempting touch before he’s diving in for air…and she’s his oxygen.

Yoonoh’s hold is not strong, overly passionate, tumbling. In his own way, Yoonoh is delicate. It’s just when she kisses him that she realizes there is a beautiful thing to Jung Yoonoh. The delicacy he portrays in lingerie, that translate into his utter fears. The pristine glass he is when she caresses his neck with a touch of her mouth and he shudders while grasping the back of her shirt, asking to see her—to be seen.

When heartbreak happens, there is always a dot. That one finalization of a chapter in your heart that aches insufferably. Her dots connected to him, in one way or another, in the moles in his face or the way he begs to connect to her lips again when she pulls away. He’s gravity when she asks to be taken to her room in one simplistic glance and he’s smiling by the time he puts her down on the sheets.

Over all, Yoonoh is a lover of beauty, and maybe, for once in her life, she feels like art, just when he throws her shirt over her head, staring down at small portions of her body being shown before showing that dimple that she had trained herself to hate.

But who is she kidding? She didn’t hate it at all.

“…You were forbidding me of this.” He points at her body, earning laughter from her, ears heated up under his gaze. “And for that, I’ll never forgive you.”

That night, it’s not a promise of love—it’s lust mixed with something else, that fluttering feeling of having a crush, maybe, or the start of something…how he calls it…beautiful.

###

Normally, Yoonoh doesn’t text. He hooks up with someone, leaves it in the air, then moves on to working. Awakening in his lover’s bed, having breakfast with her, arguing in that way that only they know how to do—playfully, of course—and then having to see him himself off just so she can go to work, however, is completely different.

Just as he lays on his bed midway through the day, he looks at her contact. Missing her would be a statement, and it would be absolutely correct. His gut twists, not knowing exactly what to say—new and yet old in this dating thing.

Uh, can he call it that? They haven’t even gotten out on a date.

Yoonoh: We haven’t gotten out on a date.

Yoonoh: Do you want to?

She must be near the phone, because she replies quickly.

Beautiful: If I slept with you, I obviously want to go on a date with you.

Beautiful: Duh.

There is the bite that he likes, enough to bring a smile to his face before he’s biting down on his lip.

Yoonoh: You didn’t sleep with me when I was employed, wearing suits, confident and flirty. Your standards? Very low.

Beautiful: You’re complaining? Because I could not do it again.

Yoonoh: Who said I was complaining? I was trying the whole time and just when I’m a huge loser, I get the girl.

His life seems to be twisted in circles, cycles that he don’t know how to stop, but a text from her gives him hope that he’ll figure it out.

Beautiful: You’re not a loser. I don’t date losers.

Beautiful: Dinner tonight? I brought a sandwich, but that’s bland.

Yoonoh: It’s a date.

A few seconds pass by before he’s typing again.

Yoonoh: Wait, how do you have me saved in your phone?

A screenshot comes soon after, and he doubles over in laughter when he sees ‘Sugarplum (DNI)’.

###

She has forgotten how to say it, and it’s not like it’s another language, but nervousness clads her every pore just as she sits down by a table at Erika’s seventh birthday party.

Five months into this dating thing, and she doesn’t understand most of it. What she knows is that it feels great. Waking up next to Yoonoh—her place or his—, being kissed on the cheeks, on her forehead, only to be ravished by one of those kisses that he only knows how to give. To watch him grow away from his fears and create his own lingerie line, obviously with the support of his model friends that were eager to take pictures with his pieces and make do with what they have.

It’s difficult, but just as Yoonoh lowers Erika after hoisting her up in the air, always charming with her and with anyone, she doesn’t know how to say it. You know, those three words that have captured her ever since Yoonoh smiled at all her baby pictures, or when he spends some extra time in the kitchen making her favorite meal just because he feels like pampering her.

Three words that she has said before, even jokingly, and yet, she’s petrified.

The trees are tall in the backyard of Sachiko’s home, yellows and reds contrasting the feeling in her heart. It’s pure pink, just like the glow on Yoonoh’s cheeks or that set he had once sewed himself just for her, the one that he never gets enough of and still groans at. Childish music and cake should be enough to calm her down, but just as Yoonoh plops himself alongside her, resting his head on his forearm on the picnic table she’s by, all words she had practiced are lost.

How does he have that effect after five months?

“Erika loved the gift.” Even their gifts had been united. From Uncle Prince and Aunt Princess, they had written on the note. A doll that she had been screaming about months ago when they had visited her.

That word, even he is saying it. If Jung Yoonoh is capable of spitting it out, why couldn’t she—?

“You look like you’re sick.”

That makes her sigh. “Thanks. I don’t see you complaining.”

Yoonoh’s smile grows wider at that, rolling a piece of her hair in between his index finger. “I like the sick look.” He replies. “Something about the sight of a girl who wants to throw up on me. So sexy I could take you to a bathroom right now and just—”

“Yoonoh!”

“There it is, not so sick anymore. Now you’re angry.” He has his ways, she has to admit, and even when finds herself laughing when he changes that glimmer of his eyes that always gets him what he wants. “What’s with you?”

She opens her mouth, placing a piece of cake inside of it—just a little bit too big—when she says: “I love you.”

Or whatever can be understood in between a mouthful of cake.

Yoonoh quirks a perfectly styled brow. “You what?”

“I love you.” She utters out, swallowing soon after before giving him a smile. “Okay, alright, I’m done here—”

His hands gravitate to her hips before she could stand up, sitting her down on his thigh and bringing her face to his by her chin before asking, much too close and too softly for her to ever resist him. “You what?” He repeats, much more delicately, and finally, she finds the reason to stop being nervous.

Those brown eyes look from her eyes to her lips, never getting enough of her, never knowing how to battle the thoughts that show on his features. That kind of adoration she has never gotten before, and that is worth trying for.

She hides her face in his neck, breathing in his scent before spitting out: “I love you.”

It brushes against his skin, tickles him in a way that has him tightening his hold before he replies: “Sounds so good when someone means it.” And that confession is only meant for her to be understood, before he’s pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I love you, too.”

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Routines

Tim and Marinette lived busy lives.

It was by choice, of course.

They were both prominent figures in their fields that could pick and choose the assignments they wished to take, had more money than they could ever dream of using thanks to the hefty trust fund that being even tangentially related to Bruce Wayne provided, and no one would blame them if they were to lessen or give up their vigilantism. If they wished, there was nothing stopping them from taking a smaller workload, from using up all of their sick days, from taking vacations, from quitting their jobs entirely...

That being said, they likely never would.

And the tabloids loved to speculate on their relationship because of it. How could they spend much time together if Tim was always at work, developing new technology for Wayne Enterprises? Marinette was cheating, how could she not when so much of her job as a designer involved getting up close and personal with models? Not to mention all of the business trips. Surely, the relationship had some kind of monetary motivation, or maybe it was just to more seamlessly merge their companies, or it had only happened for PR reasons.

They let them speculate. They simply didn’t know better.

The tabloids didn’t get to see how they acted behind closed doors, after all.

There would be days where neither of them went in to work. It wasn’t due to some sort of sickness that Tim had caught thanks to his lack of spleen, nor would it be because Marinette had hit some kind of artist’s block. No, it was simply because they wanted to spend time together.

~

They took breaks. Technically. If you squint.

There would be days where neither of them went into work. It wasn’t due to some sort of sickness that Tim had caught thanks to his lack of spleen, nor would it be because Marinette had hit some kind of artist’s block. No, it was simply because they wanted to spend time together.

They would turn on the coffee machine and then make their way over to the sofa. Marinette would nestle herself into his side and smile as he wrapped his arm around her. He would pull her as close as he possibly could so he could still use both arms to type.

He usually took video calls like this. It was always so much easier to maintain a pleasant smile, even when people often looked down on him for his age, because whenever he felt it start to waver he could simply look down at his girlfriend and suddenly he would find that it would be back in full force.

She would prop her sketchbook on her legs and start on some new designs. The designs she did like this were always, inexplicably, more lively than the other ones -- full of vibrant colors and swooping curves in a way that some of her other works lacked. If asked, Marinette would joke that the secret ingredient was love.

And, sure, this wasn’t technically taking a break from work. They were still productive, still did tasks...

But they counted it. They always came back to work the next day with the same euphoric feelings in their chests, the same springs in their steps. How could they not? They’d spent the entire day doing what they loved with the person that they loved. Who could ever want a break from that?

~

Every time one of them came back from a business trip, they made sure to spend the night together.

Tim would lay back in bed, Marinette on top of him. Her head would come to rest on his chest, clutching the back of his shirt tightly. His fingers would find their way to her hair and she would huff a little, knowing that her hair was about to get hopelessly tangled as he fidgeted with the silky strands, but she would nuzzle into his chest all the same.

They would watch a TV show. It didn’t matter whether it was good or bad. As long as there were people and some semblance of a plot, they would gladly stay wrapped up in each other’s arms to watch it.

Tim would rattle off whatever theories he had developed as they came to mind. Some of them were absolutely insane, he knew, and would never happen… but it was worth making a fool of himself if it got Marinette’s face to light up or if he earned one of those little giggles that escaped her when he was instantly proven wrong.

Marinette would, at least, pause the show whenever she wanted to talk, though it wasn’t out of an understanding of how time works. No, it was so she could sit up a little in his lap and point at whichever character had offended her this time. She would go on long rants about how makeup was just as important as outfits in costuming, but it was often overlooked in favor of making the actors look pretty. And, maybe she had already said all of this before, but it’s important, Tim! And he would just nod his agreement. Because it was important -- a TV night certainly wouldn’t feel like a TV night without at least one rant.

And then the screen would go black, the most recent episode done.

Tim would draw back a little and then pretend to be shocked when his hands were stuck in her hair.

“Oh noooooo,” he’d say. “I guess I can’t let go yet.”

“How unfortunate,” she would deadpan.

He’d smile cheekily at her.

“Shut up.”

“But I didn’t even say anything!” He’d argue with overexaggerated offense.

She would smile, shaking her head as much as she could with the fingers in her hair. “You didn’t have to. You have a presence about you.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he’d say.

And, sometimes, she’d bring her hands up to cup his face. “Not sure if it was a compliment, but I definitely wouldn’t have it any other way,” she’d whisper before pulling him closer for a kiss.

… but, most of the time she would just laugh and say: “It wasn’t one.”

~

Once a month, Marinette tried to teach Tim to cook. Of course, they both knew it was a hopeless endeavor. He’d failed to make mac n’ cheese once, and Marinette -- who had lived the first eighteen years of her life in a Parisian bakery -- wasn’t good at discerning which meals were ‘easy to do’.

But that didn’t stop her from trying.

She would come up with a new recipe, would claim that this one was truly dummy proof…

And then Tim, dummy that he was, would manage to mess it up. Without fail, he would find some way to do something wrong. He would leave the milk on the stove and then be surprised when said milk on the stove decided to revolt against the system. He would raise the temperature on the thing they were baking so it would go faster and then be shocked when the cake didn’t rise at all. He would put too much in the mixer and then not understand why the contents had exploded over the two of them.

Worst thing was, she was pretty sure he was actually trying. He just… couldn’t seem to do it.

So, she would just kiss the disappointed frown off of his face and promise that they would do better next time.

And, every time without fail, he would light up.

“There will be a next time?” He would ask.

“Yeah. You’re lucky you’re cute, I can’t say I love being covered in ingredients.”

Tim would kiss her cheek, and then draw back and lick his lips. “I don’t know, I kind of like it. Something about my girlfriend being covered in tasty food really does something for me.”

“Like I said: you’re lucky you’re cute.”

And, even though she would say that, there was no mistaking the amusement dancing in her eyes.

~

They weren’t particularly religious, it was hard to be when Marinette had a god living in her earrings that obeyed her every command…

Which meant celebrations for the two of them were few and far between.

But, at least, they celebrated their anniversary.

They would sit on the rooftop, the blankets doing nothing to keep the hard tiles of the roof from digging into them and they did even less against the chilly Gotham air.

She’d stare up at the sky with him.

And, since it was Gotham, there were very few stars to be seen through the dark red and black haze of clouds that hung over the city.

But they didn’t mind.

Marinette smiled. “It’s our colors.”

He didn’t look over, watching the colors swirl above them. “Even the sky thinks we’re a good couple.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. The sky god really does have a thing for love.”

He gave a short puff of laughter and finally tore his eyes away from the sky. “Really?”

She shrugged, grinning at him. “No clue. There might not even be a sky god.”

He scoffed and untangled his hand from its blanket prison to give her a tiny shove. She could have dodged the attempt with ease, but she allowed the hand to make contact.

To her surprise, he grabbed ahold of her shoulder and pulled her into him. She gave an undignified little squeak and, if it weren’t for the fact that he was right there, she would have probably faceplanted onto the tile.

But, instead, her face came crashing into his soft, pillowy shoulder.

She looked up at the crooked grin that she had come to love over the years and huffed, pulling her own arms free so she could shove him. For real.

He flopped back, the hand he’d managed to get out coming to rest over his chest as if he were hurt.

“How could you? Roofs hurt, you know.”

“Well, yeah, if you throw yourself down on tiles it’s not going to feel too great.”

He cracked a grin, though he quickly tamped it down to keep up the act: “Victim blaming at its finest.”

She rolled her eyes and leaned over him. One of her hands cradled his cheek, her thumb tracing the tiny scar on his cheekbone.

He looked up at her. And she thought, somewhere, that maybe the reason the pollution in the city was just some kind of coverup so no one would know that they all resided in Tim’s eyes.

And then she cursed herself mentally for thinking something so cheesy.

She had to make up for it somehow:

“You’re the worst, I hope you know that.”

“I am. But you love me anyway.”

Dang it. How was she supposed to feign being annoyed when he looked at her like that? With that soft smile and thick lashes and hair that framed his face just so.

She decided it wasn’t worth trying to pretend.

Marinette let herself match his smile.

“I do.”

“Save those words for our wedding,” he joked softly.

She rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even proposed yet.”

“I could be doing that right now. Who knows, this could all be my plan.”

“It’d be a good plan,” she said. “I’d probably say yes.”

He narrowed his eyes just slightly. “Isn’t that essentially you proposing to me?”

She tipped her head to the side, considering, then she laughed a little. “I guess it kind of is. So, Tim, will you marry me?”

His eyes widened to an almost comical degree.

And then his face lit up with a smile that made her heart flutter.

“I hope you know I want a ring.”

She giggled. “Just say yes, you idiot. We can always get the ring tomorrow.”

His smile only stretched further. “Yes. I’d love to marry you.”

“I love you,” she whispered, leaning closer until her lips brushed against his.

“I love you, too,” he breathed.

Marinette didn’t hesitate any longer, tilting her head to give him a proper kiss. He freed himself of the blanket and she gasped a little against his lips as he wrapped her up in it as well, drawing her close.

She pulled away just a little, her forehead coming to rest against his. She couldn’t seem to get the dopey smile off of her face, but she wasn't completely sure she even wanted it gone.

“I proposed first, so I won,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him playfully.

He smiled. “No, I did.”

[multiplefandomsblog]

Kazuichi, Byakuya, Gundham, Rantaro, Gonta, Leon, and Toko with an ultimate Broadway actress s/o

Desc; headcanons of kazuichi, byakuya, gundham, rantaro, gonta, leon, toko with an ultimate broadway actress s/o

Warnings; i tried to make this spoiler free, fem!reader, reader uses female pronouns, i guess this takes place at hope’s peak academy? pre-tragedy?? i dont really know about the v3 boys, haven’t finished the game lmao-

Gundham:

◊ He already knows a bunch about Musicals; especially the darker ones.

◊ He thinks your Ultimate is amazing, he loves all your plays.

◊ Neither of you know which between the two of you is more dramatic.

◊ Your dramatic personalities often intertwined, merging the two of you and making you both into one huge drama queen.

◊ It gives everyone a headache as you both scream, “My toe hurts!-” “My king’s toe hurts! Someone bring an ambulance, stat!”

◊ “Someone get the fucking chlorofoam-” “Hiyoko no-”

◊ This is a bad example, but you get my point-

◊ He enjoys Shakespeare and dark love story plays/musicals.

◊ So he would definitely enjoy acting one with you on stage, if you let him.

◊ He’ll somehow incorporate his Dark Devas into the play just for an excuse to bring them with him on-stage.

◊ Once he was playing Romeo and abandoned Juliet to save Cham-P after he ran offstage to eat a sunflower seed someone dropped on the floor.

◊ Fuck Juliet, mans knows his priorities.

◊ He’s kind of a musical theatre nerd, he enjoys discussing the message behind musicals you’ve played.

◊ Throwing in some compliments about how well you perceived the character, and how pretty you looked.

◊ He is always extremely proud and amazed at your ability to sing, dance and act so well all at the same time.

◊ He believes you don’t get enough credit for doing what you do, so he makes sure you know how proud he is of you.

◊ He sometimes quotes Shakespeare or some other dark musical while you two hung out, it was kinda cute seeing him geek out like that.

◊ “As said in ‘The Merry Wives of Windsor’, Better three hours too soon than a minute too late." Gundham quoted, pride laced in his words as he was proud of remembering that. “Gundham... it’s literally 5 am in the morning, the party starts at 12 pm. Go back to sleep.” Gundham blinks and nearly falls asleep where he stood. “Mmkay.”

◊ If he saw you dress up as the witch in Wicked, he would be whipped.

◊ His evil queen? In an evil costume? A dream come true!

◊ He thinks you look absolutely fabulous and praises you a bunch after the show, telling you how pretty you looked while you acted.

Kazuichi

◊ He wouldn’t know much about musical theatre, since he’s more into machines.

◊ But when you told him to come to a play you were going to star in, he jumped at the offer.

◊ 90 minutes of you? He must be the luckiest guy in the world!(Nagito would be proud)

◊ After watching his first play, he decides he is obsessed with musical theatre now, going to all your shows.

◊ He loves all the romance based musicals, he’s a sucker for romance what can he say?

◊ He’d obsess over all your plays, going into a lot of detail about his favourtite parts.

◊ He’s kinda like, your #1 fan.

◊ He has posters of musicals you’ve starred posted around his dorm room, just a bunch of merch of you and all the musicals you starred in.

◊ When you tell him he has a backstage pass because he’s your boyfriend, he is overjoyed. 

◊ He actually trained a bit to be one of the backstage crew members.

◊ He learned how to fix your make up during intermissions, fix a loose stitch on your costume, all that good stuff.

◊ Though every time he sees your face up close for make up, he goes speechless.

◊ He wonders every time, how the hell did he get someone like you?

◊ Though his hands are shaking from how nervous he was, he still managed to make you look absolutely amazing.

◊ He’d blast a bunch of musical soundtracks while he works on his machines, screwing on and unscrewing things with a bop.

◊ I can imagine Kazuichi jamming with you in the car. The car moving violently as you two bounced to the rhythm like mad men.

◊ I think he’d get pretty insecure if he saw you with a love interest, he would think that when you two shared a staged kiss or scene, that it was actually full of love and not fake

◊ But when you cheer him up and tell him how much you love him, he realizes he was being silly over nothing.

◊ After watching many many romance musicals, you notice he gets more romantic; most likely mimicking the love interests.

◊ He is still a bit insecure, but if he does more romantic things, you’ll love him right?

◊ You enjoy the silly grand gestures of love, but you try and assure him constantly that you don’t need any of it.

◊ You only need him <3

Rantaro:

◊ w o a h

◊ He’d love the fact that you’re an actress

◊ He thinks it’s so cool like-

◊ constant fanboying after shows

◊ He’s always bringing you flowers once you’re off the stage, showering you with praises and affections

◊ He’s literally so proud of you wtf??

◊ i think he’d be the type to show you off a lot

◊ “Hey you!” He points at a naked passerby(this is an inside joke, i am so sorry), “Guess what? My girlfriend’s a Broadway actress!” “Rantaro stop, people are staring-” “Are they? hEY YOU! YEAH, YOU STARING!! MY GIR-”

◊ if you ever started spitting out hamilton raps, he’d be the one beatboxing in the back ground for you.

◊  “Pshh, packow, psshh psshh, packow!” “How does a bastard, orphan, son of a-” 

◊ you two would jam out to musical soundtracks in your dorm, dancing dramatically as you did.

◊ you two kinda become like a duo of musical theatre kids.

◊ if you stood on a table and started belting lyrics, he would hop on and join you

◊ unless it was a solo, he would never steal your thunder.

◊ if you ever felt a bit nervous before a big show, he would assure you that’d you’d do great and tell you how much he believed in you until you felt better.

◊ he’s your charger before and after a big show.

◊ if you felt exhausted from acting and dancing around the stage, he’s always there to give you what you need most.

◊ whether it’s water, food, flowers, or just him and his cuddles, he always has it ready for you.

◊ the most recent musical soundtrack that you’ve played will be stuck in his head.

◊ For example, if you recently played in Hairspray, ‘Mama, I’m a big girl now!’ will be stuck in his head until the next play he watches.

◊ you’d catch him humming it during everything he does, 

◊ and it’s actually so fricking adorable.

◊ if you heard him sing a familiar tune, you would hum along with him.

◊ “Hmm, mmwhen I was, just a kid ♪” 

◊ Your ears perked up at the familiar tune, slowly you turned around to face him.

◊ “♪....You never let me do just what the older kids did…♪” You joined in quietly, Rantaro whipped his head towards you, a rising smile on his face.

◊ “♪ But lose that laundry list of what you won't allow ♪,” His voice rose slowly in excitement, pointing at you with a big grin across his face.

◊ And at the same time, you both sang obnoxiously loud, as if it was rehearsed, “♪ 'Cause mama, I'm a big girl now! ♪” Running to each other with excitement, 

◊ You let out a fit of giggles as Rantaro picked you up, “MY WIFE, PLEASE BE MY WIFE!” 

◊ This is how you two met and you can’t tell me otherwise-

Gonta:

◊ Gonta wouldn’t know much about Broadway musicals- which to you, a broadway actress, was unacceptable!

◊ so you made it your mission to get him to watch as many musicals as he possibly can.

◊ You’d tell him to come to all your plays, him excitedly agreeing despite not knowing what a play is.

◊ You’d do extra good knowing that Gonta was in the crowd watching you, wanting to give him the best first experience with musicals.

◊ He’d applaud at the end of every scene, trying to show his support the best he can.

◊ for his first play he watches, he ends up clapping a bit too early.

◊ he cheered and applauded super loud when he saw you on stage, but stopped when he realized everyone was staring at him.

◊ Though it was a bit embarrassing for both you and him, you felt your heart flutter at how his first instinct was to clap for you when you walked in stage.

◊ You’d introduce him to various musicals, beauty and the beast being his favourite.

◊ He definitely starts to obsess over the more ‘gentlemanly’ characters.

◊ his first impressions of the beast were bad; Denying that old lady shelter? How ungentlemanly!!

◊ so when the dude got cursed, he cheered lmao

◊ but as he kept watching, he could see the beast wasn’t too bad. 

◊ The beast had some flaws, but he obviously cared for belle, he thought.

◊ Oh but he hated Gaston, he really really hated him.

◊ If you acted with someone who played Gaston(and you as belle), he would have to hold back and not rip his face off every time Gaston said something idiotic or sexist.

◊ He had to keep reminding himself that, that Gaston wasn’t real(and thank god for that, real gaston would’ve been torn to shreds.)

◊ the dancing scene was his favourite part for sure.

◊ He’s sad he doesn’t get to play beast with you, but he still enjoys the scene nonetheless.

◊ something cute I can imagine him doing is surprising you by dressing up in a prince costume from the musical and asking you for a dance. 

◊ It’s the cutest thing ever oml-

◊ It’s such a beautiful moment, you two just dancing together in a random room with no care in the world.

◊ Your arms wrapped his extravagant costume and his arms wrapped around your pj’s.

◊ He’s a bit shy to be so close to you, but he tries his best to be confident and as princely as he could so he pushes his anxiety aside.

◊ As his stomach fills with butterflies, he becomes slightly confused and concerned, ‘Did Gonta eat butterflies??’ He slightly panics-

◊ ‘Those poor butterflies!!’

◊ He’d watch a lot of videos on how to ballroom dance in advance for this moment.

◊ He’s actually not that bad!

◊ Well- as long as you dance with your feet on his, so he doesn’t crush your toes.

◊ If you ever did some beauty and the beast scenes for him, he would be so happy. 

◊ He’d be even happier if you let him play the beast with you.

◊ He’d be smiling the entire time during a fight/sad/serious practice scene.

◊ *almost gets stabbed* “Haha oh no!” 

◊ When you sing during one of the scenes, he kinda just-

◊ becomes a puddle of a gentleman.

◊ his heart melts and disintegrates(haha what) of love for you. 

◊ he absolutely loves your voice, and would beg for you to sing him one of the soundtracks from beauty and the beast before bed.

◊ He’s really proud of all your plays, and is extremely happy that you–of all people–are his girlfriend.

Byakuya Togami

◊ In all honesty, he thinks your ultimate isn’t all that great.

◊ But as he watches one of your plays, his mind ultimately(see what i did there?) changes.

◊ He becomes impressed and dazzled from how passionate you look when you act, not noticing how you had him sitting on the edge of his seat.

◊ After watching you act, he literally cannot watch another play unless you are in it, finding it unworthy of his time and money.

◊^^this is before you two got together,

◊ you two got together after you found him in your crowd, applauding like the rest of them with the same bewildered expression on his face.

◊ You confronted him and he attempted to compliment your acting, but he accidentally let his feelings for you slip out instead, “I find you truly captivating- Wait no, I-I meant your plays. Your plays, they are truly captivating.” You watched in amusement as he stumbled with his words, eventually interrupting him with an, “Are you available right now?”

◊ So yeah, eventually you two get together, and good for Togami! Because now he doesn’t have to secretly applaud you as a fan, he can applaud you whenever and as your lover.

◊ After shows, he’d give you a single rose as a congrats or applause (so romantic!)

◊ If you ever decided to be chaotic and start belting out lyrics, he would just sigh and let you finish.

◊ Very rarely, you would catch him humming a small tune of a musical song you sang.

◊ But very very rarely. If you ever catch him and confront him about it, he will deny it completely.

◊ I think he’d probably like the more serious plays, he enjoys the meanings and emotions of them more than the sillier and playful ones.

◊ If he ever watched Mean Girls, he would start to slightly mimic Regina George.

◊ “Byakuya wha-” “Get in peasant, we’re going shopping.” 

◊ It’d be lowkey hot when you hear him sass you like Regina George tho-

◊ He’d have more big dick energy after watching Mean Girls, emitting his dominance to everyone.

◊ Makoto during a class trial: “So we know that she was at the scene of the crime, right?” “Shut up.” Byakuya flipped his imaginary long hair as Makoto stares at him in confusion, silence filling the room. “Shut up!” “I didn’t even say anything-”

◊ “The new motive is going to be-!” “Whatever, I’m getting cheese fries a book.” Byakuya sighed, turning on his heels and catwalking away.

◊ ...

◊ “IT’S PUNISHMENT TIME-!” “MONOKUMA WAIT NO-”

Leon

◊ Would go to every one of your shows.

◊ Would act like an absolute mom in the crowd.

◊*holding a video camera* You’re doing great sweetie!.

◊”That’s my girl!”

◊ You’d get embarrassed every time he does that.

◊ Hypes you up when you get nervous before going on stage.

◊ In back stage, he’d praise you and give you a bouquet of flowers.

◊ Where did they come from? When did he have time to get flowers when he was yelling in the crowed??

◊ Helps you rehearse lines even if he has no idea what they’re about.

◊ Will fight anyone that makes mean comments towards you.

◊ Even if it’s just constructive criticism, he will take it as an insult.

◊ “Hey s/o! You did great! Maybe next time you could-”

◊ Leon: “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY PUNK!? DO YOU KNOW WHO SHE IS?! I HAVE FRICKING ARMS OF STEEL, I WILL-”

◊ Will take every chance to pick you up and call you a queen.

◊ When you guys watch other plays together, he always says how you’d play a better role or that you’d do so much better.

◊ He is pretty jealous of your talent, he has always wanted to be a singer instead of a baseball star, but his ultimate wouldn’t allow that.

◊ So if you let him sing some musical song duets with you, his heart will be so full.

◊ You make him so happy, he almost breaks into cries.

◊ You two of weekly karoake nights, always singing some Heather’s duet together.

◊ One time, you, Sayaka and Leon sang the Candy Store song, Leon being Heather Chandler, Sayaka as Heather Duke, and you as Heather McNamara.

◊ It was... amazing.

◊ Everyone was cheering, clapping and it praising all of you.

◊ You made Leon feel alive, and he really, really loves you for that.

Toko

◊ She loves your ultimate, and fangirls over you a bunch.

◊ She’s amazed at your confidence to go up in stage, knowing she could never do that.

◊ She thinks your confidence is kinda hot, and decides she is in love.

◊ Likes to add a character in her books that are a lot like you, maybe making them a broadway actress-

◊ She thinks about you a lot, sometimes accidentally blurting out how pretty you were in your last performance in front of everybody.

◊ You confronted her for it, and she almost passed out.

◊ “W-w-why d-do you think t-t-that? D-d-do you th-think you’re b-better than m-me or so-something?” 

◊ You already know her and her inferiority complex, so you don’t take offence to what she said, simply replying with, “I think you’re really cute.”

◊ Toko goes silent, except for a few “!??!??” noises that came out of her.

◊ “... U-uh, a-are you j-joking, be-because that isn’t f-funny!” She flushes, denying that you complimented her.

◊ “I’m not joking, here’s my number! Call me, kay?” You grinned before turning on your heel.

◊ She’s kinda dumbfounded, did her crush just ask her out??

◊ She denies it hard at first, not believing that you asked her out.

◊ Thus, not calling you.

◊ Well, I mean, she kinda did.

◊ She dialed your number one day, feeling a bit lonely.

◊ But as she heard your morning voice, she squeaked and hung up quickly.

◊ She felt her face turn into a fireball, her thoughts going into overdrive from how attractive your voice sounded.

◊ Your voice, she was attracted to your voice.

◊ The next day, when you ask her about what that call was about, she denies it and calls you stupid.

◊ Sprinting away while she screamed, “I-i-idiot!!”

◊ Acts like an absolute tsundere around you.

◊ You constantly flirt with her, trying to get her to accept a date with you.

◊ Being the dramatic hoe you are, you try and give her a declaration of your love.

◊ Knowing she is the Ultimate Writer, and into poems, you write one for her.

◊ You declared your love during one of your plays, knowing she sat in the crowd somewhere.

◊ You interrupted a scene and jumped off stage, “Toko Fukawa!”

◊ Her head perked up in surprise, eyes widening as she saw you on one knee for her.

◊ “W-what are you d-doing!?” She yelped, moving her legs away from you. 

◊ “I am in love with you. Completely and utterly in love with you, everyday when I see you so immersed in writing a book, I believe I am looking at an angel.”

◊ The crowd stared at the both of you, gasps and aws filling the air.

◊ Toko flushed, you watched her while she wrote?

◊ “For every time you’ve told me I was a fool, an idiot, you weren’t wrong. Because I am a fool, a fool in love with you.” You had one had on your chest, looking into her eyes sincerely.

◊ Her eyes glossed over so slightly you couldn’t see, looking around at the crowd before uttering out, “Y-y-you r-really love m-me, h-huh?” Her face contorting into a lopsided smirk, watching as you giggled.

◊ You laughed out, “Absolutely.” 

◊ WHY DID THIS TURN INTO A ONESHOT WHAT WHY WHAT WHYYY

note; thank you so much for reading and sorry for the wait!! we tried our best to finish these together, thank you so much for your patience.

[sideblogformindtrash]

SUMMER OF WHUMP - DAY 4 - ABANDONED

Mind the huge cw. Is mostly just discussing it, but still.

CW: Insinuated no-con; past-abuse; relieving past trauma; abandonment; very low self esteem; humiliation; accidental triggering; bait dog; whipping; starvation; shoved in luggage bag; bitten by mice; gross food; claustrophobia; burns; no-con drugging; no-con touching; mentioned amputation; pet whump; multiple whumpers; human trafficking; muzzle; starvation; neglect; manhandling; cruel/intimate/neglectful whumpers;

“H-hello and welcome to BB’s and Pastel’s show!” ...Pastel turned the octopus plush around as BB turned the camera on. It went from a pink, smiley octopus, to it’s frowning gray insides. Pastel pulled the blankets over his head, leaving only his eyes out “...I’ll be your host, BB, and this is my assistant, Mr.Tonsils!”

BB lifts Mr.Tonsils in front of the camera, waiving his little furry paws so he can say hello to their audience. They pick up the camera, and take it to the bed with Pastel, capturing his pretty pink-ish eyes. 

“C-come on Pastel! Say hi!”

Pastel shifts slightly under the blanket.

“I’m… Not a fan of cameras, BB'' his voice is just a whisper, as he twists the blanket. BB thinks he is kneeling “...I’ll just… be your audience today, okay?”

“O-oH! Sorry!” BB stepped away. That was right. Pastel didn’t have good memories about that. BB pointed it away, making sure only they and Mr.Tonsils were on frame. Pastel seemed to relax, even sitting back and lowering his blanket cocoon “...So, due to technical issues, Pastel won’t be joining us tonight. But that 's okay. BB and Mr.Tonsils are here to entertain you!”

BB smiled, making sure to show the missing little teeth. Just like Blue. Just like Blue… before, at least. 

“...Well, for tonight’s show me and Mr.Tonsils prepared a top 15 review!” BB wasn’t sure if it really classified as such. But it sure sounded nice “BB will be going over all of our old homes!”

They noticed as Pastel frowned, suddenly changing their expression, way more alert. BB only felt more excited. If Pastel was paying attention, it clearly meant the topic of the video was interesting! Audiences would love it! Even… Even if this was never going to be aired. BB could picture the audiences!

...With a deep breath, they braced themselves and started. They had prepared for this. They could do it.

“...BB’s begun it’s life like us all, in b-between white walls and tiled floors of the training grounds. They were worthless and ugly and dumb, BB’s smile never charmed anyone! It took a long time in the store before BB got home. It was and old lady that said BB was so ugly that it hurt, and dumb as a door, but worked well enough to, to scrub her floor” BB smiled, remembering the cozy attic, where they made their first friends, among piles of boxes that compiled their first owner’s life. Long nights they spent alone there, digging through piles of pictures, trying to piece together what a human life was like. Nonsense, it was, because it just filled BB’s head with a lot of silly thoughts.  They lifted Mr.Tonsils for the camera “...BB worked the day and spent the night locked away. In the house’s attic, BB made their first friends. They were Mr.Tonsils crowd, a family of mice, and BB befriended them all, even if they’d bite BB’s feet while it was trying to sleep! BB loved the house, their first owner, and e-every single mouse!”

BB hugged Mr.Tonsil, swinging him around. Pastel was biting his lip, pulling a thread out of the blanket. Good! He was enjoying the story! And BB felt like they were doing good, too. Better than they did at any of their homes.

“...First owner got tired of BB because the stupid Pet let her cat flee! All BB wanted to do was help and clean, but the cat saw their chance and ran away. First owner took BB to a store with a mean looking clerk. They agreed BB was ‘So ugly it fucking hurt’, hoping BB would only stay a few days and them someone would want them” BB rubbed their hand together. That didn’t count as an owner, did it? It was only temporary, in nature. Not that owners lasted very long “BB was at the store for almost a full month, during which they got to eat, sleep and there was no work. BB wanted to make friends with other pets in cages, but they never stayed for long, after all - good pets get good homes!”

...BB was still upset about the store. All of those Pets had looked so nice, so much better than they are… And they never tried to talk to BB. They were all scared they’d be beaten down if they tried, but never were. BB was the only worthless one, that got the punishments… for everyone!

“...BB was bought by creepy looking guy who stuffed BB inside a cage and on a plane and was flown away” BB gestured with their hand, copying the movements of a plane. They had to be on the chair, so it would look nice on video, but otherwise, they would have liked to run around with their arms opened “...Creepy man named BB Bait. They were a teaser for a larger, angrier Pet named Spike, who had on BB a nice punching bag who couldn’t put up a fight. They were nice to BB and even a friend, but scary and cruel when the Master decided they needed to beat them. So BB was Spike’s chew toy, but when they were nice… BB was always filled with joy!”

...They closed their eyes for a second. Those two lives were merged together. One of them had been so short, they could barely remember the second dog.

“...After Spike got tired, BB was sold again, to be another dog's punchbag. And he was the third friend BB had! He refused to hurt BB, would even cuddle them to sleep, and then I was severly punished… For making the Master's dog weak. It was the first time BB tasted a whip, and with dark bruises on its face, BB was sold again”

...They stood in that second store for a week. With no food, and no sleep. They were dirty, and cheap, not worthy of caring for.

“The next Master had BB as furniture for his house. All he did was snap his fingers and that was BB’s call. It would crawl and hold things very still and keep his glass fill, he would rest his feet over BB. If it got boring the cane was always on hand, he could crack in on BB’s back and get it all shades of purple and black. BB didn’t sleep there much at all, it had to stand still behind his bed, all night long holding a water jar upon a tray, in a perfect 90° degree, or there was always hell to pay” BB touched their arm, absentmindedly, a small scar on their elbow where bone had poke through “But BB was ugly furniture, bad and broke away, when Master tried to sit over its back one sad summer day. BB tumbled to the side, knocking Master to the floor. BB got a broken arm and was kicked out of the door!”

“...The next Master that took me in was cruel and harsh, with unusual punishments that left some scars: fingers pulled back until they snapped, weights to BB’s feet, heavy chains and painful strains and the worst - the oven’s flame” BB tilted their head. That Master, too, had scars. They didn’t know how she had gotten them, it was not it’s place to ask. They… They were happy to leave that one “...BB was then lost in a card game, and doesn’t remember much at all. Pills made BB sweet and kind and small. What BB doesn’t get is that they never needed pills - they would never disobey, even if put through awful, lingering pain, they’d love Master all the same.”

...Hazy. Foggy memories. Hands over them, and brushing their cheeks, and so much drool because they were never cohesive enough to form words or move. Blinking white lights, whispered little things that returned to them in dreams.

“...When BB was sober again, they found themselves in a shed, where they were always so alone. The Master was a mountain who only came at night to beat BB down. The days went by slowly, loneliness crushing down, it was dark and cold and hungry, and there were spiders all around“ BB stopped their speech for a moment. This next part was something… that still haunted them. They had done… awful, awful things. They covered Mr.Tonsils' ears. They were afraid of what he would think “...BB, on that shed, made things it would rather forget. Just like the Master forgot BB had to fed! BB might have eaten a few of Tonsil's friends, please don’t let him know, is just BB’s stomach hurt so much and it was the only thing that could stop the growl”

BB releases Mr.Tonsil’s ears, hearing a gasp from Pastel. They turn and smile, but his face is… Pale, horrified. BB shrugs. Pastel always worries faaaar too much. Next one… Made BB feel nostalgic.

“Next… Was the trucker! He liked BB a whole lot, and let BB on the bed and the passenger’s seat! He and BB traveled a lot, seeing magic and beautiful places. BB spoke on the radio, and… And… Had a name! Was called Oreos...” They messed up their rhymes. This… This wasn’t how it was supposed to go “...BB was… Was happy then. His spouse didn’t like me, and… And behind his back, gave me away”

BB’s nails sunk on their arms, as they hug themselves. They… missed those days. It was good, good nostalgia, but what followed made them sick. They had just learned how big and beautiful the world was…

“Next Master… Stuffed BB into a bag, small and stinky with heavy leather smell, with no room to move at all, so much BB’s limbs collapsed when it was finally left out. It travelled around so much, but BB never got to see outside. It was let out during the night to be with Master, and shoved back on the bag once he was satisfied” BB shook their head, as if that would send the memories away. They hated it, hated that bag so, so much. Terrible, suffocating and endlessly boring and aching. And worse… that’s when they lost their name Oreos. They had loved that life. They truly had. “It didn’t matter much, BB was soon thrown away again. Unlovable and worthless, no one could stand BB for much longer either way. BB was sold and sold, always on their way. Next Master was confusing – gave BB many orders and functions, then beat BB down for following the instructions! They likes to trick BB, make plenty of cruel jokes, BB was just a dumb dog, one they only named Mutt!”

...They smiled then. The next one was also nice. His name was Wolfgang, but he was not a wolf. Not that BB could remember.

“And BB’s following owner sold stuff door to door! Saw BB – or Mutt then – and thought they were good charms! BB helped with the sales, being all cute and sweet, and Master was happy at first, but eventually… Sold me!”

And the next Master was…

BB shivered. This one… Hurt a lot. A whole fucking lot. It had been one of the longest lasting homes they had. It had changed the way they saw and thought of themselves forever. It was where they became BB. Bootleg Blue. Fake, useless, worthless.

“…Next was Owner Alvin, who BB loved so, so, so much. He said he would always care for BB… if BB could be someone else. BB had never ever been loved, and the feeling was so gentle and sweet! BB finally understood why no one else had loved it, and what it needed to do so that it would. Blue, a pet who had videos and fame, who had scars BB didn’t have… But I wanted to gain! BB left their teeth rot, BB scarred their own face, Master got angry – Bad BB, bad…” No, no, no. They couldn’t start to lament now. Not when they had gone so far on the video, already, and trough some of the hardest part “Alvin gave BB a room with a  plain white dresser, four pairs of clothes and double of socks! BB knew them all by heart and cherished them, BB loved Alvin, loved him, loved him so, so, so much. 

But …Alvin wanted BB to be Blue, but wouldn’t tolerate it when BB got the knife and tried to make the change. BB watched the videos on repeat, hundreds, thousands of hours on end, BB could cite them by head!

But BB wasn’t Blue, and can never be. BB is unworthy, and no one could love me. BB was shoved in a car and Owner broke his promise – he decided not to keep me, he, he, h-he… He, he…”

BB closes their eyes, bites back a sob. They are almost done now, and even if they completely messed up the last part…. they can push through! They can still make a nice video… Maybe the audience will like that they can be a little emotive?

“...Shoved BB in a car, drove them to a dead end. Left them alone on the streets to fend for themselves. BB stayed there alone and scared and sad, hoping someone would come… Or that somehow, their pain would end. And then Paul and Reina appeared, finding the ugly pet on the streets. Reina said BB did look like Blue! So she wanted, she wanted BB too!” BB smiled a little. Reina was pretty. She gave me good headpats… But BB didn’t miss them a lot. Paul wasn’t so nice “Paul knew BB was worthless, but Reina still wanted BB. BB was taken to their house and for a short span of time, BB was pampered, happy and loved, an illusion that didn’t last. They figured BB was fun to hurt and start to get their way – not that BB cared, loved them all the same”

They turned around for a second, smiling at Pastel. This was something they’d truly love to talk about, for once.

“But the best part was that BB made a friend when living at their place. Pastel was his name! Pastel held BB and told me it would be okay. BB didn’t have to be Blue – they loved me either way. Pastel took punishment and tried to keep Master’s away. BB cuddled them to sleep and they loved each other! They did!” 

BB smiled at this, hugging the plush. One drop of joy, as small as it had been. One that wasn’t stripped away. But the show hadn’t ended.

“…Alas we got back to IF. IF my desired owner, the true maker of Blue, the one who could make BB worthy of love… If he had wanted to. He shoved BB in a cage and tortured Pastel instead, and it was so, so awfully cruel!” BB shook their head, lamenting “But last and not least, Master Fairyman appeared! He took BB and Pastel to live with him! And he has been so nice so far, giving BB colored books! Lovely, nice and nice! And Pastel Is with me too, BB don’t know how long it will last, but BB is so, so to be here with you!”

BB finished, looking back at Pastel and drawing a heart in the air with their fingers. Pastel… is tearing up. He jumps from the bed, not minding the camera anymore, and hugs BB. BB melts, leaning onto the hug. Soft. Kind. Loved. 

“BB…” He finally speaks, still not letting them go  “Did… Did you rehearse this?”

“Many times in BB’s head!” BB smiled. Many, many, many times, all those years… “Did it come out nice?”

“Yeah…” Pastel rested his head on BB’s shoulder, hugging them tight “I love you, you know?”

BB smiled.

“I know”

tagging: @summer-of-whump@pinkraindropsfell

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Return Home Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

The date begins in a conference room, where a meeting has been going on for almost three hours

When LFG invested in an online video platform called SE, LFG held a press release stating that it was a strategic move for the international film and TV market

However, just within two years, SE found itself racking up billions of dollars in debt due to its poor project management

As such, people in the know have been secretly ridiculing Victor for making an error of judgement

Fortunately, LFG’s connections with the media prevented this information from leaking out

But it doesn’t change the fact that LFG messed up this time

Victor hasn’t slept in two days - he’s been poring through documents, project materials, and would sometimes sit in the conference room alone for several hours, forgetting to eat :

When Victor returns to the hotel, there are over a hundred unread notifications on his phone. 

He doesn’t pay attention to such information, but taps on the only pinned message amid the countless lists of prompts.

Unsurprisingly, it’s filled with insignificant idle talk, coupled with several different emoticons.

Victor loosens his tie slightly, reading through the messages from top to bottom. 

“I made an improved version of omurice. Want to try it?”

“What is Goldman talking about in his Moments - something about being angry and tired. Is the meeting not going smoothly?”

“Remember to eat...”

“And remember to sleep!”

Victor’s finger pauses at this line, and there’s a gentle emotion flowing in his eyes.

“The internet celebrity lawyer you mentioned the other time agreed to my invitation for an interview, so I’ll be rushing out the proposal this Saturday. Want to be a supervisor?”

Victor opens the dialog box. Once he sends an “ok”, the other party immediately responds with an emoticon of a winking cat. 

Thinking of the time right now, he arches his brows slightly. 

-

Nestled in my quilt, I’m just about to embark on a long speech regarding the weekend’s schedule, but the phone in my hand suddenly vibrates, surprising me. 

Victor: Did you not sleep, or did you wake up?

MC: Haha...

Victor: What are you laughing at? 

MC: It feels like that is something I often ask you. Why is it now your turn to ask me?

Victor: It’s only 5am now. 

MC: I didn’t get a reply from you, so I couldn’t sleep...

I turn over, changing to a more comfortable position against the corner of the quilt. I press the phone tightly to my ear. 

MC: What project are you busy with this time? Is it going smoothly? 

Victor: Smoothly. It’s still early, you can sleep for a while longer.

MC: ...I can’t really sleep now. Are you still coming back on Thursday as you said last time? 

Victor: Before Saturday. 

MC: It’s only Tuesday today... and the sun hasn’t come out yet. 

I hear Victor laugh, his low tone mixed with some tiredness.

Victor: You find it too late? 

MC: I wouldn’t dare to. If it weren’t something important, you wouldn’t delay returning. However... even if it’s because of work, you did go back on your word, so you have to promise me one thing. 

A deep and slow sigh enters my ear, revealing a faint sense of fatigue.

Victor: You can say it. 

MC: You have to eat, and you have to sleep.

The other end of the phone call grows silent for a few seconds. 

Victor: Mm, I promise you.

The misty morning light is on the curtains. In the midst of my quiet grogginess, I close my eyes, wanting to feel the frequency of his breaths. 

MC: ...it has been raining continuously in Paris these two days. 

Victor: It’s like that during this season. 

MC: Is... is it very cold...

Victor: No, it isn’t. 

My consciousness grows increasingly darker, but I can still clearly capture his voice in my bizarre dream world. 

Victor: [in the gentlest of gentle voices] Sleep if you’re tired. I’m hanging up. 

MC: N-not tired... don’t hang up...

Victor: You can’t even speak clearly, and you’re still unwilling to sleep?

MC: ...

I just need five more seconds to be clear-headed--

I let out a sound of agreement, unsure if I managed to say this aloud.

Very soon, only Victor’s long and steady breaths at my ear remain in my world. It’s very, very close. It’s a closeness that gives one a peace of mind. 

Victor: Are you asleep?

MC: ...

Victor: Sleep then.

Victor: ...

Victor: Sleep peacefully. 

-

On Saturday afternoon, I lift my head towards the wall clock for the nth time. When the needle points to the number ‘3′, I can no longer help myself, and give Victor a call. 

After the dial tone, the notification that the other party is unable to answer the call sounds. Before I can react, the doorbell rings. 

Victor is standing at the door and just about to put his phone back into his pocket. In a daze, I look towards at his empty hands. 

MC: Your luggage...

Victor: Goldman took them back. I still have to return to LFG tonight. 

As he speaks, he enters and changes his shoes in the hallway. After that, he walks straight into my bedroom.

Victor: What have you been doing these two days? 

He walks to the coffee table, picking up the messy outline I was working on for an interview. He takes a glance and then lifts the corners of his lips. 

Victor: You said you were working seriously for several days, but you just did a few outlines? 

MC: Don’t underestimate me! I’ve looked through quite a number of materials. Look!

I point at the stack of trending societal topics and legal-related books on the floor. 

MC: Preparatory work speeds up the actual process. Also, didn’t I recognise my inadequacies and ask you to be a supervisor? 

I hurriedly drag a chair to the coffee table and place a headrest on the back of it. 

MC: Please sit. I guarantee that from this second onwards, I’ll concentrate on the proposal. Before the sun sets, I’ll definitely have the first edition out. 

Victor can’t help but laugh. He hangs his coat on the clothes rack in the corner, then pulls the chair over to himself. After sitting down, he seems to recall something and lets out a faint sigh. 

Victor: Lend me your laptop for a while.

I hand him my notebook computer, and a thought flashes across my mind -- how could he not have brought a laptop out?

MC: Victor, when did you get infected by my scatterbrained habits? 

Victor: Only this time. I forgot to take it with me after leaving it in the backseat.

Victor avoids my teasing gaze. With his expression unchanged, he starts approving documents on the LFG intranet. 

Victor: The sun is setting in two hours. 

MC: Who knows - maybe the sun wouldn’t feel like going home today. 

I return to my seat, resting my chin on my palm while looking towards Victor. 

The light golden sunlight streams in from the window, slowly enveloping Victor. The quiet, warm rays of light are coupled with a calming woody scent, and are very pleasant. 

Victor doesn’t speak. His fingers tap against the desk from time to time. In this quiet room, the sound of our breathing is amplified.

After an inordinate amount of time, he finally lifts his eyes and meets mine.

Victor: Staring at me can help you finish your proposal?

MC: I’m not staring at you. I’m silently conceptualising ideas.

After my words are out, a short “ding” sounds.

MC: Wait for a moment~ 

In a flash, I rush to the kitchen and retrieve the aromatic cookies from the oven. After carefully placing them on a cooling rack, I bring it back to the room along with two cups of warm drinks. 

MC: Afternoon tea time!

Victor casts a glance at the cups and arches his brows slightly. Steam floats from the hot cup of milk, and strands of warmth merge with the sweetness in the house.

MC: Your dark circles are so deep, so don’t drink coffee, all right?  

Victor: I’m fine. 

I thought Victor meant that he wouldn’t drink this, but he holds up the cup after speaking. 

Once I sit down, I push the plate filled with cookies towards him. 

MC: Look at my new mold - isn’t it cute?

I point at the cookies, which are shaped like cats with different expressions on them. 

MC: This one is yawning, this one is full of grievances, this one has already fallen asleep, but I like this one the most. It keeps having an angry face. I called it “Qi Gu Gu”.

[Note: Names don’t translate well into English, so I left it as it is. The original name is 气鼓鼓, which means “seething”]

Victor’s eyes sweep towards my fingers. 

Victor: Looks like you. 

MC: Is that so?

I puff my cheeks, mimicking the cat on the cookie and squinting my eyes to look at Victor. 

As predicted, Victor ignores me. There is a measure of speechlessness in his eyes.

I laugh and bring “Qi Gu Gu” to his lips. 

MC: Give it a try? 

Victor takes a bite straight from my hand, then returns his gaze to the laptop. 

MC: Aren’t you going to evaluate it? 

He purses his lips slightly, and I can’t tell if he’s smiling or not. He leans forward a little, then finishes the remaining half of “Qi Gu Gu” in my hand. 

His warm lips brush against my fingertips, leaving behind a soft, lingering warmth. A fluffy, light, and sweet sense of happiness stirs up slowly in my heart. 

Contented, I sweep the crumbs off my hands and take up my pen again. 

Soon after, MC’s mind starts wandering to how fine the weather is

And how fine her man is 👀

He doesn’t show much emotion while working, and his expression looks as calm as always. But the deep look of concentration between his eyebrows is a little different from usual.

As for what exactly is different...

It’s probably how one just can’t look away.

Victor: It’s only been a few minutes. How many times have you lost focus? 

I hurriedly retract my gaze, pretending to be scribbling on the paper like an “obedient” student who got caught doing something improper by a teacher.

But my ideas have not been completely formulated, and I can’t think of anything to write. The only thing I can do is draw a small heart at the top right-hand corner of the paper. 

Sensing Victor’s lingering gaze on me, I continue scribbling until it becomes a solid heart, then attach a tilde at the end.

After pausing for a moment, I let out a soft sigh and lift my head slightly. 

Victor: Why are you sighing.

MC: ...I can’t help it.

Victor: Can’t help what? 

MC: Can’t help looking at you. 

I cross my arms together, changing to a more comfortable position and plopping onto the table. I tilt my head towards Victor. 

He lets out a barely audible laugh. Just as he’s about to speak, a familiar ringtone sounds from his pocket. 

Watching Victor pick up the call, my messy thoughts instantly vanish, and I feel slightly downcast.

Victor: The time now is...

While speaking, Victor looks at the bottom right corner of the laptop. After a slight pause, he looks at the phone. 

Victor: 4.30pm. Have them give me a reply by 8pm. 

His words are concise. After he hangs up, I ask him a little hesitantly. 

MC: Do you... have to go back to LFG now? 

Victor: I'm not leaving. 

While saying this, he sets his phone on silent mode and places it at the corner of the table. Meeting my hesitant gaze, there’s a sense of resignation in his calm eyes.

Victor: Your laptop is set to Paris’ timezone. 

I fail to understand the implication behind his words, so I just nod subconsciously. 

MC: Mm, it’s easier to tell the time like that. 

Victor doesn’t speak. He sweeps another glance at the laptop. At this moment, the system sends a report of the weather forecast in Paris over the next five days - there will be continuous rain every day.

He smiles faintly, then closes the laptop slowly.

Victor: ...you’re really becoming more and more dumb.

MC: ...yes yes yes, taking care of a dummy like me is really a bother for Mr CEO. 

I deliberately pout, but can’t help but smile along with Victor. I stand up and retrieve our two empty cups.

MC: I'll go wash the cups. Is there anything you want to eat?

Victor: No need. Are you treating me as you? 

I let out an indignant “hmph”, then turn around and head to the kitchen. 

I originally thought it would only take a few minutes to wash the two cups. But by the time I cleaned and tidied up the tools I used for baking earlier, half an hour has passed. 

When I return to the room, Victor is lying on the bed, my incomplete outline in his hand.

I soften my footsteps and walk over, leaning close to his ear and whispering:

MC: Victor, are you asleep? 

Victor doesn’t respond, but has a shallow intake of breath, his eyelashes quivering gently under the twilight. 

MC: Are you really sleeping or just pretending to sleep? 

Very lightly, I climb onto the bed, inching towards him.

MC: Victor? 

I call his name again softly, but he still does not respond. But the corners of his lips curl up slowly, revealing a smile.  

MC: You aren’t asleep, are you.

I lean one hand on the bed, and use my other hand to lift up a few strands of his hair. 

Looking at his smooth and sharp jawline, my fingertips unconsciously rub the tips of his hair. 

MC: ...have you been very tired recently?

Victor: No.

His words carry with them a certain sleepiness - perhaps he hasn’t had rest in a few days, so he gets drowsy once he relaxes just a little. 

MC: Didn’t you already look at my interview outline? Why are you looking at it again? 

Victor: To see what exactly you were scribbling. 

I think about that heart with its little tail, and am left speechless, as though I got caught having a bad idea. 

Victor: You specially got me here to supervise you, but you only wrote these few sentences the whole afternoon? 

MC: Yeah. Next time, I won’t ask you to be a supervisor! When you’re in front of me, my work efficiency takes a nose-dive. 

I reach out to take my notebook from his hand, then cover him with a blanket. Victor turns his head, his half-closed eyes meeting mine. 

It’s very rare for me to see such a burnt-out look in his eyes. Right now, I can only feel the emotions in my heart towards this person becoming a hundred times more tender. 

MC: Sleep for a while before going to LFG? I’ll wake you up at 7.30pm.

With the rigour of Victor’s schedule, several important meetings were cancelled at short notice so he could fly to Paris. After that, his return was delayed twice.

We already agreed that he’d return before Saturday, but it suddenly changed to Saturday itself...

This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t an extremely troublesome matter. 

...and he still stubbornly said that he wasn’t tired.

I place my forefingers on his temples, making slow circles. After a while, a soft laugh drifts from his lips. 

Victor: [releases a sigh which sounds like a moan lol]...

Victor takes my right hand and encloses it in his palm, wordlessly pulling me closer to him. 

With this distance, every one of his breaths mingle with mine. I can’t help but bend down, pressing the corner of my lips to his fringe.

In the quiet darkness, I hear the frequency of our heartbeats and breathing mingling and becoming more and more synchronised.

Victor: ...there’s no need to worry about me. I haven’t reached the point where a dummy has to worry about me.

MC: Mm, I got it. 

I respond softly, but can’t hide the touch of peace in my smile. 

MC: ...I just can’t help it.

Can’t help but worry if you’re hungry or not, whether you're cold or not, whether you’re tired or not. 

Can’t help but want to see you, whether you’re in front of me or not.

Can’t help but reveal the smile in my brows and lips just because you surface in my mind. 

I look out the window - the clouds spread across the dim twilight and the stars are looming. The golden sunset and the quietness of the night meet at the end of the sky. 

The sun is about to set.

MC: Victor, I didn’t finish the interview outline before the sun set. Are you going to punish me? 

Victor: ...

The only response I get is the sound of his steady and peaceful breathing. 

I lower my head and look at his sleeping face. This familiar side profile has gotten slightly thinner over the span of just a few days. I reach out, stroking his cheek in mid-air.

Afraid to disturb him, I silently watch him.

MC: Sleep then.

MC: ...

MC: Sleep peacefully. 

[thewatsonbeekeepers]

Chapter 4 – It is always 1895 [TAB 1/1]

TAB is my favourite episode of Sherlock. It is a masterpiece that investigates queerness, the canon and the psyche all within an hour and a half. Huge amounts of work has been done on this episode, however, so I’m not going to do a line by line breakdown – that could fill a small book. A great starting point for understanding the myriad of references in TAB is Rebekah’s three part video series on the episode, of which the first instalment can be found here X. I broadly agree with this analysis; what I’m going to do here, though, is place that analysis within the framework of EMP theory. As a result, as much as it pains me, this chapter won’t give a breakdown of carnation wallpaper or glass houses or any of those quietly woven references – we’re simply going in to how it plays into EMP theory.

Before digging into the episode, I want to take a brief diversion to talk about one of my favourite films, Mulholland Drive (2001).

If you haven’t seen Mulholland Drive, I really recommend it – it’s often cited as the best film of the last 20 years, and watching it really helps to see where TAB came from and the genre it’s operating in. David Lynch is one of the only directors to do the dream-exploration-of-the-psyche well, and I maintain that a lot of the fuckiness in the fourth series draws on Lynch. However, what I actually want to point out about Mulholland Drive is the structure of it, because I think it will help us understand TAB a little better. [If you don’t want spoilers for Mulholland Drive, skip the next paragraph.]

The similarities between these two are pretty straightforward; the most common reading of Mulholland Drive is that an actress commits suicide by overdose after causing the death of her ex-girlfriend, who has left her for a man, and that the first two-thirds of the film are her dream of an alternate scenario in which her girlfriend is saved. The last third of the film zooms in and out of ‘real life’, but at the end we see a surreal version of the actual overdose which suggests that this ‘real life’, too, has just been in her psyche. Sherlock dying and recognising that this may kill John is an integral part of TAB, and the relationships have clear parallels, but what is most interesting here is the structural similarity; two-thirds of the way through TAB, give or take, we have the jolt into reality, zoom in and out of it for a while and then have a fucky scene to finish with that suggests that everything is, in fact, still in our dying protagonist’s brain. Mulholland Drive’s ending is a lot sadder than TAB’s – the fact that, unlike Sherlock, there is no sequel can lead us to assume that Diane dies – and it’s also a lot more confusing; it’s often cited as one of the most complicated films ever made even just in terms of surface level plot, before getting into anything else, and it certainly took me a huge amount of time on Google before I could approach anything like a resolution on it!

Mulholland Drive is the defining film in terms of the navigating-the-surreal-psyche subgenre, and so the structural parallels between the two are significant – and definitely point to the idea that Sherlock hasn’t woken up at the end of TAB, which is important. But we don’t need to take this parallel as evidence; there’s plenty of that in the episode itself. Let’s jump in.

Emelia as Eurus

When we first meet Eurus in TST, she calls herself E; this initialism is a link to Moriarty, but it’s also a convenient link to other ‘E’ names. Lots of people have already commented on the aural echo of ‘Eros’ in ‘Eurus’, which is undeniable; the idea that there is something sexual hidden inside her name chimes beautifully with her representation of a sexual repression. The other important character to begin with E, however, is Emelia Ricoletti. The name ‘Emelia’ doesn’t come from ACD canon, and it’s an unorthodox spelling (Amelia would be far more common), suggesting that starting with an ‘E’ is a considered choice.

When TAB aired, we were preoccupied with Emelia as a Sherlock mirror, and it’s easy to see why; the visual parallels (curly black hair, pale skin) plus the parallel faked death down to the replacement body, which Mofftiss explicitly acknowledge in the episode. However, I don’t think that this reading is complete; rather, she foreshadows the Eurus that we meet in s4. The theme of ghosts links TAB with s4 very cleanly; TAB is about Emelia, but there is also a suggestion of the ghosts of one’s past with Sir Eustace as well as Sherlock’s own claims (‘the shadows that define our every sunny day’). Compare this to s4 – ‘ghosts from the past’ appears on pretty much every promotional blurb, and the word is used several times in relation to Eurus. If Eurus is the ghost from Sherlock’s past, the repressive part of his psyche that keeps popping back, Emelia is a lovely metaphor for this; she is quite literally the ghost version of Sherlock who won’t die.

What does it mean, then, when Jim and Emelia become one and the same in the scene where Jim wears the bride’s dress? We initially read this as Jim being the foil to Sherlock, his dark side, but I think it’s more complicated than this. Sherlock’s brain is using Emelia as a means of understanding Jim, but when we watch the episode it seems that they’ve actually merged. Jim wearing the veil of the bride is a good example of this, but I also invite you to rewatch the moment when John is spooked by the bride the night that Eustace dies; the do not forget me song has an undeniable South Dublin accent.* This is quite possibly Yasmine Akram [Janine] rather than Andrew Scott, of course, but let’s not forget that these characters are resolutely similar, and hearing Jim’s accent in a genderless whisper is a pretty clear way of inflecting him into the image of the bride. In addition to this, Eustace then has ‘Miss Me?’ written on his corpse, cementing the link to Moriarty.

[*the South Dublin accent is my accent, so although we hear a half-whispered song for all of five seconds, I’m pretty certain about this]

Jim’s merging with Emelia calls to mind for me what I think might be the most important visual of all of series 4 – Eurus and Jim’s Christmas meeting, where they dance in circles with the glass between them and seem to merge into each other. I do talk about this in a later chapter, but TLDR – if Jim represents John being in danger and Eurus represents decades of repressed gay trauma, this merging is what draws the trauma to the surface just as Jim’s help is what suddenly makes Eurus a problem. It is John’s being in danger which makes Sherlock’s trauma suddenly spike and rise – he has to confront this for the first time – just like Emelia Ricoletti’s case from 1895 only needs solving for the first time now that Jim is back.

At some point I want to do a drag in Sherlock meta, because I think there’s a lot more to it than meets the eye, but Jim in a bride’s dress does draw one obvious drag parallel for me.

If you haven’t seen the music video for I Want to Break Free, it’s 3 minutes long and glorious – and also, I think, reaps dividends when seen in terms of Sherlock. You can watch it here: X

Not only is it a great video, but for British people of Mofftiss’s age, it’s culturally iconic and not something that would be forgotten when choosing that song for Jim. Queen were intending to lampoon Coronation Street, a British soap, and already on the wrong side of America for Freddie Mercury’s unapologetic queerness, found themselves under fire from the American censors. Brian May says that no matter how many times he tried to explain Coronation Street to the Americans, they just didn’t get it. This was huge controversy at the time, but the video and the controversy around it also managed to cement I Want to Break Free as Queen’s most iconic queer number – despite not even being one of Mercury’s songs. There is no way that Steven Moffat, and even more so Mark Gatiss would not have an awareness of this in choosing this song for Moriarty. Applying any visual to this song is going to invite comparisons to the video – and inflecting a sense of drag here is far from inappropriate. Moriarty has been subsumed into Eurus in Sherlock’s brain – the male and the female are fused into an androgynous and implicitly therefore all-encompassing being. I’m not necessarily comfortable with the gendered aspect of this – genderbending is something we really only see in our villains here – but given this is about queer trauma, deliberately queering its form in this way is making what we’re seeing much more explicit.

Nothing new under the sun

“The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun” (Ecclesiastes)

"Read it up -- you really should. There is nothing new under the sun. It has all been done before." (A Study in Scarlet, Sherlock Holmes)

“Hasn’t this all happened before? There’s nothing new under the sun.” (The Abominable Bride, Jim Moriarty)

This is arguably the key to spotting that TAB is a dream long before they tell us – when TAB’s case is early revealed to be a mixture between TRF (Emelia’s suicide) and TGG (the five pips), and we see the opening of ASiP repeated, we should be questioning what on earth is going on. This can also help us to recognise s4 as being EMP as well though – old motifs from the previous series keep repeating through the cases, like alarm bells ringing. Moriarty telling Sherlock that there is nothing new under the sun is his key to understanding that the Emelia case is meant to help him understand what happened to Jim, that it’s a mental allegory or mirror to help him parse it. This doesn’t go away when TAB ends! Moving into TST, one of the striking things is that cases are still repeating! The Six Thatchers appeared on John’s blog way back, before the fall – you can read it here: X. It’s about a gay love affair that ends in one participant killing the other. Take from that what you will, when John’s extramarital affection is making him suicidal and Sherlock comatose. Meanwhile, the title of The Final Problem refers to the story that was already covered in TRF and the phone situation with the girl on the plane references both ASiB and TGG, and the ending of TST is close to a rerun of HLV. It’s pretty much impossible to escape echoes of previous series in a way that is almost creepy, but we’ve already had this explained to us in TAB – none of this is real. It’s supposed to be explaining what is happening in the real world – and Mofftiss realised that this was going to be difficult to stomach, and so they included TAB as a kind of key to the rest of the EMP, which becomes much more complex.

However, if we want to go deeper we should look at where that quote comes from. I’ve given a few epigraphs to this section to show where the quote comes from – first the book of Ecclesiastes, then A Study in Scarlet. It’s one of the first things Holmes says and it is during his first deduction in Lauriston Gardens. This is where I’m going to dive pretty deep into the metatextual side of things, so bear with the weirdness.

[we’re going deeper]

Holmes’s first deduction from A Study in Scarlet shows that he’s no great innovator – he simply notices things and spots patterns from things he has seen before. This is highlighted by the fact that he even makes this claim by quoting someone before him. If our Sherlock also makes deductions based on patterns from the past, extensive dream sequences where he works through past cases as mirrors for present ones makes perfect sense and draws very cleverly on canon. However, I think his spotting of patterns goes deeper than that. Sherlock Holmes has been repressed since the publication of A Study in Scarlet, through countless adaptations in literature and film. Plenty of these adaptations as well as the original stories are referenced in the EMP, not least by going back to 1895, the year that symbolises the era in which most of these adaptations are set. (If you don’t already know it, check out the poem 221B by Vincent Starrett, one of the myriad of reasons why the year 1895 is so significant.) My feeling is that these adaptations, which have layered on top of each other in the public consciousness to cement the image of Sherlock Holmes the deductive machine [which he’s not, sorry Conan Doyle estate] come to symbolise the 100+ years of repression that Sherlock himself has to fight through to come out of the EMP as his queer self.

This is one of the reasons that the year 1895 is so important; it was the year of Oscar Wilde’s trial and imprisonment for gross indecency, and this is clearly a preoccupation of Sherlock’s consciousness in TFP with its constant Wilde references, suggesting that his MP’s choice of 1895 wasn’t coincidental. Much was made during TAB setlock of a newspaper that said ‘Heimish The Ideal Husband’, Hamish being John’s middle name and An Ideal Husband being one of Wilde’s plays. But the Vincent Starrett poem, although nostalgic and ostensibly lovely, for tjlcers and it seems for Sherlock himself symbolises something much more troubling. Do search up the full poem, but for now let’s look at the final couplet.

Here, though the world explode, these two survive

And it is always 1895

‘Though the world explode’ is a reference to WW1, which is coming in the final Sherlock Holmes story, and which is symbolised by Eurus – in other chapters, I explain why Eurus and WW1 are united under the concept of ‘winds of change’ in this show. Sherlock and John survive the winds of change – except they don’t move with them. Instead, they stay stuck in 1895, the year of ultimate repression. 2014!Sherlock going back in his head to 1895 and repeating how he met John suggests exactly that, that nothing has changed but the superficial, and that emotionally, he is still stuck in 1895.

Others have pulled out similar references to Holmes adaptations he has to push through in TAB – look at the way he talks in sign language to Wilder, which can only be a reference to Billy Wilder, director of TPLoSH, the only queer Holmes film, and a film which was forced to speak through coding because of the Conan Doyle estate. That film is also referenced by Eurus giving Sherlock a Stradivarius, which is a gift given to him in TPLoSH in exchange for feigning heterosexuality. Eurus is coded as Sherlock’s repression, and citing a repressive moment in a queer film as her first action when she meets Sherlock is another engagement by Sherlock’s psyche with his own cinematic history. My favourite metatextual moment of this nature, however, is the final scene of TFP which sees John and Sherlock running out of a building called Rathbone Place.

Basil Rathbone is one of the most iconic Sherlock Holmes actors on film, and Benedict’s costume in TAB and in particular the big overcoat look are very reminiscent of Rathbone.

Others have discussed (X) how the Victorian costume and the continued use of the deerstalker in the present day are images of Sherlock’s public façade and exclusion of queerness from his identity. It’s true that pretty much every Holmes adaptation has used the deerstalker, but the strong Rathbone vibes that come from Ben’s TAB costume ties the 1895 vibe very strongly into Rathbone. To have the final scene – and hopefully exit from the EMP – tie in with Sherlock and John running out of Rathbone Place tells us that, just as Sherlock cast off the deerstalker at the end of TAB (!), he has also cast off the iconic filmic Holmes persona which has never been true to his actual identity.

Waterfall scene

The symbol of water runs through TAB as well as s4 – others have written fantastic meta on why water represents Sherlock’s subconscious (X), but I want to give a brief outline. It first appears with the word ‘deeper’ which keeps reappearing, which then reaches a climax in the waterfall scene. The idea that Sherlock could drown in the waters of his mind is something that Moriarty explicitly references, suggesting that Sherlock could be ‘buried in his own Mind Palace’. The ‘deep waters’ line keeps repeating through series 4, and I just want to give the notorious promo photo from s4 which confirms the significance of the motif.

This is purely symbolic – it never happens in the show. Water increases in significance throughout – think of Sherlock thinking he’s going mad in his mind as he is suspended over the Thames, or the utterly nonsensical placement of Sherrinford in the middle of the ocean – the deepest waters of Sherlock’s mind. Much like the repetition of cases hinting that EMP continues, the use of water is something that appears in the MP, and it sticks around from TAB onwards, a real sign that we’re going deeper and deeper. I talk about this more in the bit on TFP, but the good news is that Sherrinford is the most remote place they could find in the ocean – that’s the deepest we’re going. After that, we’re coming out (of the mind).

Shortly after TAB aired, I wrote a meta about the waterfall scene, some of which I now disagree with, but the core framework still stands – it did not, of course, bank on EMP theory. You can find it here (X), but I want to reiterate the basic framework, because it still makes a lot of sense. Jim represents the fear of John’s suicide, and Jim can only be defeated by Sherlock and John together, not one alone – and crucially, calling each other by first names, which would have been very intimate in the Victorian era. After Jim is “killed”, we have Sherlock’s fall. The concept of a fall (as in IOU a fall) has long been linked with falling in love in tjlc. Sherlock tells John that it’s not the fall that kills you, it’s the landing, something that Jim has been suggesting to him for a while. What is the landing, then? Well, Sherlock Holmes fell in love back in the Victorian era, symbolised by the ultra repressive 1895, and that’s where he jumps from – but he lands in the 21st century. Falling in love won’t kill him in the modern day. What I missed that time around, of course, was that despite breaking through the initial Victorian layers of repression, he still dives into more water, and when the plane lands, it still lands in his MP, just in a mental state where the punishment his psyche deals him for homosexuality is less severe. This also sets up s4 as specifically dealing with the problem of the fall – Sherlock jumps to the 21st century specifically to deal with the consequences of his romantic and sexual feelings. There’s a parallel here with Mofftiss time jumping; back when they made A Study in Twink in 2009, there was a reason they made the time jump. Having Sherlock’s psyche have that touch of self-awareness helps to illustrate why they made a similar jump, also dealing with the weight of previous adaptations.

Women

I preface this by saying how incredibly uncomfortable I find the positioning of women as the KKK in TAB. It’s a parallel which is unforgivable; frankly, invoking the KKK without interrogating the whiteness of the show or even mentioning race is unacceptable. Steven Moffat’s ability to write women has consistently been proven to be nil, but this is a new low. However, the presence of women in TAB is vital, so on we go.

TAB specifically deals with the question of those excluded from a Victorian narrative. This is specifically tied into to those who are excluded from the stories, such as Jane and Mrs. Hudson. Mrs. Hudson’s complaint is in the same scene as John telling her and Sherlock to blame the problems on the illustrator. This ties back to the deerstalker metaphor which is so prevalent in this episode; something that’s not in the stories at all, but a façade by which Holmes is universally recognised and which as previously referenced masks his queerness. Women, then, are not the only people being excluded from the narrative. When Mycroft tells us that the women have to win, he’s also talking about queer people. This is a war that we must lose.

I don’t think the importance of Molly in particular here has been mentioned before, but forgive me if I’m retreading old ground. However, Molly always has importance in Sherlock as a John mirror, and just because she is dressed as a man here doesn’t mean we should disregard this. If anything, her ridiculous moustache is as silly as John’s here! Molly, although really a member of the resistance, is able to pass in the world she moves in in 1895, but only by masking her own identity. This is exactly what happens to John in the Victorian era – as a bisexual man married to a woman, he is able to pass, but it is not his true identity. More than that, Molly is a member of the resistance, suggesting not just that John is queer but that he’s aware of it and actively looking for it to change.

I know I was joking about Molly and John’s moustaches, but putting such a silly moustache on Molly links to the silliness of John’s moustaches, which only appear when he’s engaged to a woman and in the Victorian era. He has also grown the moustache just so the illustrator will recognise him, and Molly has grown her moustache so that she will be recognised as a man. In this case, Molly is here to demonstrate the fact that John is passing, but only ever passing. Furthermore, Molly, who is normally the kindest person in the whole show, is bitter and angry throughout TAB – it’s not difficult to see then how hiding one’s identity can affect one’s mental health. I really do think that John is a lot more abrasive in TAB than he is in the rest of the show, but that’s not the whole story. Showing how repression can completely impair one’s personality also points to the suicidal impulses that are lurking just out of sight throughout TAB – this is what Sherlock is terrified of, and again his brain is warning him just what it is that is causing John this much pain and uncharacteristic distress.

This is just about the loosest sketch of TAB that could exist! But TAB meta has been so extensive that going over it seems futile, or else too grand a project within a short chapter. Certain theories are still formulating, and may appear at a later date! But what this chapter (I hope) has achieved has set up the patterns that we’re going to see play out in s4 – between the metatextuality, the waters of the mind and the role of Moriarty in the psyche, we can use TAB as a key with which to read s4. I like to think of it as a gift from Mofftiss, knowing just how cryptic s4 would be – and these are the basic clues with which to solve it.

That’s it for TAB, at least in this series – next up we’re going ever deeper, to find out exactly who is Eurus. See you then?

[dogcopter]

Jane is Lore 2020

Ok, here’s the round up of the ghost part of the situation with @keepbeachcitysafe​ and @keepbeachcityweird​.

Theory: Ronaldo’s girlfriend Jane is the key to figuring out Rose Quartz is not gone, largely via a constellation of background clues. If that sounds ridiculous, I understand. I’m Ronaldo. Actually I’m not Ronaldo, but hopefully I’ll have a post about him too soon. I hope we can all have fun together tho

This post is very, very long and involves a lot of images. It will be confusing at first, but please entertain the thought and keep reading, and I hope it clicks into place. I may need to update it later. 

Three sections for supporting evidence:

1. Restaurant Wars, Jane, KBCW/KBCS blogs’ interaction & contents

2. Astral projection/ghosts/fusions

3. Dogcopter secrets

Restaurant Wars Saga & Jane’s appearances

So Ronaldo has a blog at @keepbeachcityweird​ - he also published a book based on his blog called Keep Beach City Weird: You Can’t Hide the Truth!!!, which is available for purchase.

On April 23, 2014, Lion 2: The Movie airs. Jane appears for the first time working the ticket booth at the movie theater and sees Lion and the kids fight a killer robot. Dogcopter 3 is playing at the theater.

April 23, 2014, Ronaldo at Keep Beach City Weird also posts about seeing Dogcopter 3 at the movie theater, where the parking lot is a mess, presumably from Steven, Connie and Lion’s robot training fight.

He mentions “First of all, it’s a huge mistake to turn the last Dogcopter book into THREE movies.”, but that’s less relevant to this particular post. The important thing is that he, like Connie, follows Dogcopter, who’s also associated with Jane. (We’ll get to Dogcopter’s appearances in SU in the last part of this once the context is established) 

Ronaldo’s posts in general document specific events and details in his home Beach City, but that’s another post entirely.

Exactly a year later, Ronaldo on April 23, 2015 posted about receiving a mysterious letter, which might be from Jane because (beneath a great deal of smudging) it appears to call Ronaldo the CUTEST GUY EVER! (This isn’t crucial or anything, just noting it as one of our first Jane points).

I GOT A LETTER TODAY!!!  But for some reason it was all wet and I can’t even tell what it says.  Is it a love letter?  Is it a death threat?  Please tell me!  I need to know if I should lock my doors or open my heart!

Jane also appears in Beach City Drift. After Beach City Drift, keepbeachcitysafe posts an episode reaction blog, on July 22 2016, and takes special notice of Jane.

Hey did you guys notice that girl that keeps appear. We saw her when Steven took Connie to the movies and now she’s here. I wonder if she’s involved in something. Hmmmm. So Stevonnie raced Kevin down the hill in his Himitsu X12, that’s secret in Japanese.

(Kevin’s Himitsu X12 is his car, in the middle there. We’ll come back to this and what KBCS means in a second.)

July 25 2016, Restaurant Wars airs, the third of Jane’s four appearances in SU. In this ep, Jane comes a long way to return Ronaldo’s Koala Princess DVDs, and catches Ronaldo with Kiki and is upset. 

KBCS posts another episode reaction blog, pays attention to Jane again, and says they plan to message Ronaldo.

Ronaldo says he can’t do it because of his girlfriend. Ooo, he has a girlfriend, that’s pretty cool, you just know whats gonna happen next.

Ok so, Ronaldo’s, GIRLFRIEND, (imagine me saying that in slow motion) showed up at the worst possible moment.

Everything was back to normal. Except poor Ronaldo, I should sent him a letter to cheer him up. Seen ya next week.

Almost immediately the KBCS and KBCW blogs play out a little interaction online:

Ronaldo goes through some stuff.

No post today.  If anyone needs me I’ll be at Brooding Hill… where I’ll be CRYING. I usually cry at Crying Canyon, but it’s closed right because of some flash flood warnings.  

Then Ronaldo posts KBCS’s letter.

Note how KBCW caps this message so the name is clearly visible? It’s referring to Ronaldo’s bio:

It’s not very cheering...but things work out shortly thereafter. Jane likes one of Ronaldo’s posts and all seems well.

I think it’s going to work out you guys.  Thanks for all your support.

After this, Ronaldo doesn’t post again until Rocknaldo several months later, and one last time after publishing his book. 

That’s April 18 2017. The KBCW tumblr is never updated again. KBCS’s final post is not long after, Jul 4, 2017.

Finally, Jane makes a cameo alongside Ronaldo in the very last scene of Steven Universe Future, “The Future.”

Koala Princess, Astral Projection and Psychic Ghosts

So some interesting patterns come up when you connect the two blogs, the clues associated with Jane, and some understanding of Steven’s powers. Let’s revisit Keep Beach City Weird, a Ronaldo’s primary blog, and Keep Beach City Safe, which contains mysteries too big for this simple Dogcopter/Jane-hime lore post.

Keep Beach City Weird - Ran from September 2013 to April 2017, with a lot of posts made in October 2015 and July 2016.

Keep Beach City Safe - Ran from June 2015 to July 2017, with most posts in 2016 of course.

Let’s look at a timeline of posts. I’m going to call out things that we’ll connect to the Jane lore at the end.

Keep Beach City Weird: Ronaldo’s blog

Nov 1, 2013, days before Steven Universe first airs: KBCW’s first post is all about Astral Projection.

Astral Projection!  The ability to travel outside your physical body and into other planes of existence!

I began to feel lightheaded and before I knew it, I was floating above my body.  Amazing!  I walked out onto the boardwalk in my new ASTRAL FORM, and you know what the weird thing was?  Nobody even said hello to me.  I was COMPLETELY INVISIBLE!  I mean, usually nobody really notices me, but this was a different kind of not being noticed.  This was not being noticed on another plane of existence - so I didn’t feel bad about it.Anyway, after being ignored in the arcade and Fish Stew Pizza, I got bored and I went back to the fry shop to re-merge with my body. 

Astral projection is a power Steven demonstrates a number of times, and you’ll see among these posts that certain powers of Steven involving this stuff are called out by the blog. 

Connie: What? Where are you? How are you...? Steven: I’m not sure, but I think it’s a classic psychic ghost type situation. Connie: Ah, of course! So, what’s the plan?

from Reunited

Steven: Oh man. I fell asleep and had this weird dream. I opened the door and Lapis was there, and- Pearl: Well, that doesn’t make any sense. Lapis is fused with Jasper at the bottom of the ocean. Steven: You’ve never had a dream before, huh? Pearl: Uh, I don’t think so.

from Chille Tid

August 28, 2014, Joking Victim, Ronaldo posts about ghosts. And an arsonist from about 150 years ago.

September 04 2014, Steven and the Stevens, Ronaldo posts about "cross dimensional travelers”

And all the cross dimensional time travelers I know don’t want to go on the record about their experiences.  

Not mentioning posts that don’t mention ghosts/astral projection/dimensions in some capacity, but in realtime Ronaldo liveblogs in response to episode events.

Ronaldo also answers some fan asks. On October 31 2014 after Keep Beach City Weird he answers this question about floaters with “BACTERIAL GHOSTS” in all caps, this one about his first encounter with the supernatural (the events shown in Horror Club, which aired February 12, 2015)

Nov 2014, Ronaldo posts twice about Watermelon Stevens and a review of the anime Soul Blaster, “Like every anime, Soul Blaster is about a high school student.  Our hero is a cool dude, with even cooler hair named Kyosuke.  He battles rogue spirits with the help of his Soul Blaster - which happens to be powered by the spirit of his deceased younger brother, Kettaro. “

On December 4, 2014 Ronaldo posts about Koala Princess, who will become important in this post when we get back to Dogcopter and Jane. Koala Princess is repeatedly used as a stand-in for talking about Steven’s journey. In this post Ronaldo says:

AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Ok, so I just finished the final episode of Koala Princess and I don’t want to get too emotional on you guys but I CAN’T STOP CRYING!  Koala Princess goes on a walkabout and enters dreamtime and finally MEETS HER KOALA MOTHER FOR THE FIRST TIME!!! SLKDJFSDJ:FS

I’ve got so many feels!  These feels are the real deals!  On wheels!  WHAT AM I SAYING?! I’M GOING CRAZY!!!

Lion 3: Straight to Video aired on the same day as Ronaldo’s post. In this episode Steven meets Dogcopter in a dream, and then sees his mother Rose Quartz for the first time - she speaks to him via a VHS tape.

After Alone Together, Ronaldo posts about Stevonnie, who is a fusion. He also gets stuck under a fridge for a bit after Future Vision in January 2015.

And I want TO GET OUT FROM UNDER THIS FRIDGE!

He posts like five times about it in the same day because he’s freaking out.

And also I want my body to be shot into space with a print version of my blog so an alien civilization can find me reconstruct my body and worship me.

On February 19 2015 after Winter Forecast, he posts about using time travel to fix bad decisions:

Sometimes I think about all the bad decisions I’ve made and how they’ve affected my life, and I wish I could go back in time and change them.  But unless I can find a way to break into the Pentagon and steal a time bike, I’m just stuck with having regrets.  

After Political Power Ronaldo claims glowsticks are filled with ghost blood.

Anyway, then stuff happens. 

January 4 2016, after The Answer, Ronaldo posts about seeing Dogcopter 4 and shares the poster for it.

One interesting thing about the poster is that if you invert it and mess with the contrast a bit, a strange diagram appears on the left. A true mystery.

And after months of avoiding and spoilers or teasers or trailers, I was in line for Dogcopter 4, and then some dummy walking out of the theater TOTALLY SPOILED EVERYTHING and was like, “I can’t believe that Dogcopter’s parents are actually cats.”  

Coming back to Dogcopter in a minute, but these are relevant details.

Dogcopter dies defending the planet but then he comes back to life because he’s actually part cat and cats have 9 lives.

On Jan 5, Steven’s Birthday, Ronaldo posts about celebrating his birthday on a different date every year.

Every year, I celebrate my birthday on a completely different day.  Why?  To keep my birthdate a SECRET so that no clandestine government agencies can steal my identity!

July 2016, the saga with Jane and KBCS above happens. When he’s sad about Jane breaking up with him, the same day Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service comes out (in which Steven astral projects into Kiki’s dream), he listens to sad music.

Ugh, I wish I had some sad music to listen to at work.  All I have is a playlist of video game soundtracks and some EVP recordings of ghost hauntings.  I guess ghosts are sad.  I’ll just listen to those.

But if you’re feeling happy, I do suggest listening to the “Go-Go Gorilla Go-Go Kart Racing” soundtrack.  Some solid 16-bit J-reggae.

This post may partly be a reference to the Sadie Killer song G-G-G-Ghost, which is performed in The Big Show and wouldn’t air for a bit, but is also astral projection related.

Why can't you see me? Why can't you see me? I think I might be A g-g-g-ghost. Can't you see that I exist? And I don't need an exorcist To let me out Look at me and I'll appear Why can't you see that I'm right here? That I'm right here? Why can't you see me? Why can't you see me? I think I might be A g-g-g-ghost. I'm calling you from the other side

Once Ronaldo has gone through grief and anger, he resorts to begging her to come back. This post is from July 28, the day Alone at Sea aired in which Jasper begs Lapis to return.

Much like Koala Princess’ vision in the Eucalyptus Jungle in Season 5, Episode 13 what you saw on the Boardwalk the other day was not what it seemed. I was only pretending to date Kiki to defend my family’s honor, just as the Kanga-ronin did in Season 1, Episode 3!

Here is another Koala Princess reference. There are a couple SU references in the episode numbers in this post.

The events of Season 5, Episode 13 of KP was not what it seemed: for Steven Universe, this is Your Mother and Mine, in which Garnet tells a story told to her by Rose Quartz. It later turns out to be a false origin story to cover the truth that Rose Quartz was Pink Diamond.

Kanga-ronin pretended at something to defend family honor in Season 1, Episode 3, which in SU is Cheeseburger Backpack - where Steven buys a novelty backpack so he can carry things on missions to be useful for the gems, fails his first mission and pretends he’s fine. The events of this ep are later referenced in The Test.

Finally, Koala Princess’ vision in the Eucalyptus Jungle is a reference to Stevonnie’s vision in Jungle Moon, which is Stevonnie’s first interaction with Pink Diamond via a memory dream. In this dream, all was not as it seemed either.

Then the KBCW blog doesn’t post until Feb 2017, after Rocknaldo. A couple ghost and dream-y quotes from here:

In my searches for THE TRUTH, I’ve done a lot of listening.  I’ve listened to haunted houses to hear ghosts from other dimensions.  I’ve listened to radio signals from the cosmos for signs of alien life.

I’ve also learned that HUMANS NEED TO SLEEP.  I didn’t sleep for 48 hours and I PASSED OUT FOR DAYS.

Ronaldo’s final post is an ad for his book, which comes out during a hiatus, and he references Koala Princess again: 

I did have a little help from some fellow truth-stigators I met on a Koala Princess forum, Ben Levin and Matt Burnett, but most of the work was definitely done by ME!  

Now let’s look at Keep Beach City Safe.

Keep Beach City Safe: [???]’s blog

For KBCS, I’m only going to skim to address ghost/astral projection related content that comes back to the business with Jane, Dogcopter, Koala Princess and Rose. The rest of this blog is a little too big for right now. 

It’s interesting that KBCS seems to have mostly flown under the radar, but between the Jane arc and a couple other things I believe it to be legit. Suffice to say I’m treating it as real and you will see why in a minute.

For KBCS I’ll mostly mention which episode a post is associated with, but not the date like with Ronaldo’s.

KBCS’s reaction blog to Nightmare Hospital includes a couple relevant lines:

Where was the Gem M.? I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around! It was mom!

Don’t tell me It’s on the other side of the hall corner. That would mean it saw mo- Connie’s mom!

KBCS posts a blog between Too Far and The Answer, in which they review a number of events. (They post another blog about fusions in which they describe Garnet and Stevonnie’s components as well)

During the movie the TV just shut down and they were being chased around by a “ghost”. It was actually a gem stuck inside the house, making the house seem like it was possessed.

They also get pretty excited about Steven’s birthday.

Only a few more minutes until Steven’s Birthday!

Eeeeh! Only a few mins left until midnight. We finally get to learn about Garnet’s past! Are guys happy, I know I am. I can’t even express how happy I feel, but I’ll try. And I will not act crazy while doing it, Imma keep it cool. So it’s like Peace and Love had a son, and his name was Steven! Then Steven fused with Connie, who was the daughter of Happiness. And they formed Stevonnie, who was made of everything right within the universe!

On Steven’s Birthday they also post about the Dogcopter 4 movie.

I’m gonna be a Smart Spoiler and drop hints in my post for you guess. Only those who have watched it will notice the clues. Yep, watching it 9 times.

This clearly references Ronaldo’s post about Dogcopter having nine lives, but KBCS is a little more considerate about spoilers.

In KBCS’s “It Could’ve Been Great” post, they’re still talking about Steven’s birthday. There’s a promo image attached as well.

To start things off I just wanted to say: I did see Steven turn into a baby? And I would also like to say: DID YOU SEE STEVEN TURN INTO A BABY!?!?

So, by now your probably wondering what the second image is aren’t you? We clearly it’s a pic of Rose holding a cupcake candle.

We, here at Keep Beach City Safe, thought that Steven would’ve liked to have his mom at his birthday party. Happy Birthday from all of us at KBCS. Hope you like it.

Future Vision reference. (Some of this is less relevant to the Jane thing but I’m pulling quotes that are related to fusion and stuff in the hopes it gets clearer)

This reminds me of the time that Garnet gave Stevens her future vision. I don’t know what happens exactly, but I think you see what’s going to happen in the future hence the name future vision. Being able to see into the future would be awesome, yet terrified at same time.

There’s a great post about Pie Day - in fact, KBCS posts about Pie Day a few times. They call out Pearl, too, which reminds me of a certain prolific fandom video editor’s handle.

You know who else knows about Pi. Pearl, but also Peridot.

Pearl Doesn’t Like Pie. Happy Pie Day!

This is not a good photo of Pear let’s see if we can find a better one. Now that’s better.

Sorry for the tangent. Let’s talk koalas now.

KBCS posts about The New Lars. They have thoughts about Steven’s ability to hop into other bodies, namely the question of whether Rose could do this as well.

Steven is worried that Lars isn’t being truthful about his feelings. So through his dreams, Steven jumps into Lar’s body, and trys to make his life better. But he only makes things worse.

Steven somehow possessed Lars’s body through his dreams. He’s done it before and he’ll do it again, we have a word for it now: Dream Possession. But he can also enter dreams.

He did it with Lapis, the Watermelon Stevens, and now Lars. That’s one gem, one sentient plant, and one human. Well with lapis he was merely communicating with her. This, new power, is seems to activates itself whenever Steven wants to help someone, but can’t because something getting in the way. Could this be a power passed down from Rose, or is this a power he himself posses?

#koala vs sloth

in The New Lars, koalas come up twice. Koalas in SU are associated with Steven’s astral projection powers. Remember how Koala Princess met her mother in the dreamscape? 

Steven: For your consideration...The koala, a marsupial from the forests of Australia, and the sloth, hailing from the forests of South America. Who should be crowned the king of the "Hanging Around Doing Nothing" mammals!?

Steven in Lars’ body: Whatcha doing? Hanging out? Buck: Yeah. Steven: That's cool. Would you say you hang out more like koalas or sloths? Uh, I'm asking for Steven.

Steven: Um... I'm really, really sorry about yesterday. I got you a card, it's got a koala and a sloth.

From The New Lars. Steven references koalas three times.

KBCS gets to Beach City Drift. They take notice of Jane and of Kevin’s car.

Hey did you guys notice that girl that keeps appear. We saw her when Steven took Connie to the movies and now she’s here. I wonder if she’s involved in something. Hmmmm.

So Stevonnie raced Kevin down the hill in his Himitsu X12, that’s secret in Japanese.

So while we’re back on the subject of Jane, here’s something interesting about Dogcopter and the Himitsu X12. They both show up in advertisements together in the background of Empire City.

Mr Greg

Same Old World

This is what KBCS is talking about - Dogcopter has a secret.

For Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service, KBCS has more to say about dreams.

She has a nightmare and Steven, coincidentally, falls asleep after eating and enters Kiki’s dream. Now Steven The Dream Warrior, must help Kiki battle her dream, and finally end this nightmare once and for all.

Steven, who for some reason keeps going into people’s dreams, goes into Kiki’s dream.

Steven fought for about week, and he’s was tired by day four. And we know from experience that a sleepless Steven, is a cranky Steven.

This is the same power Steven used in Chille Tid. and look who showed up again?

After Monster Reunion airs, KBCS posts a liveblog and includes a far-fetched accusation that Rose Quartz is Pink Diamond.

Think about it! A Diamond should have access to all gem controlled tech, right. And if Rose Quartz was Pink Diamond, which she is, then she should be able to too, right. And Steven has Rose’s gem. So now Steven can access gem tech. And one more thing to prove this theory once and for all.

But there’s one thing that doesn’t add up. Rose Quartz… is a Quartz. How could she be a Diamond?????? Maybe I’m wrong, she could have been just working along side Pink Diamond. Maybe this just a crackpot theory about the impossible. I don’t think gems can turn into different gems? who knows, I guess we’ll find out sooner or later. 

When KBCS gets to Crack the Whip, they take note of Lion and tag him thrice:

Crack the Whip! Is it just me or is that foreshadowing?

Oh, did I mention that Lion was there. He was just there, when Connie opened the door, he walked up and just started hanging. It was so cool! It was like, Just Lion Things 2! So the snack break, that takes the whole day, ends at the beach, where the idea originally began.

Amethyst faces off Jasper, gem to gem, while Steven and Connie, and don’t forget Lion, fight the corrupted gem.

Lion was keeping the Gem Monster busy while all of this was happening. I was so stunned when Steven and Connie fused, without doing a fusion dance! How well they worked, together, they rode on Lion, and defeated Jasper, and poofed the Gem Monster all at the same time!!!

#just lion things 2 #lion fights #lion still fights

There’s also a weird Google Slides slideshow connected to the KBCS account, which includes this image featuring Lion, Tiny Floating Whale, (and Connie and Greg) and the word TRUE with Steven’s affirmative!

More Koala Princess

Two more Koala Princess references - although only one is immediately relevant - 

In Gemcation, Ronaldo keeps texting Steven about Koala Princess. Steven’s lockscreen is a selfie with him and Lion.

Also, as a sidenote, Koala Princess is implicated in sneople trolls on anime message boards.

Dogcopter

These are just the Dogcopter appearances (Thanks to SU wiki as well as my brain) Dogcopter fights robots in at least one timeline, and the book is allegedly really long. Bold Dogcopters are the pink dogcopter, everything else is an ad or grey.

Lars and the Cool Kids - Poster

Lion 2 - The movie they all go see.

Lion 3 - Gives Steven advice.

Chille Tid  - Shows Steven how to find Lapis. Meows. (Dogcopter’s parents are cats.)

Same Old World & Mr. Greg - Advertisement

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service - flies Steven away.

In Dreams and Growing Pains (Note this is grey Dogcopter) - Flies away in Stefan’s nightmare, proposes to Drew the driver (or at least offers them something) in the Dogcopter 6 Till Death Do Us Bark I Now Pronounce You Man and Woof trailer.

Snow Day - Pupcopter, a spinoff for babies.

And for Steven’s Birthday - Connie points out a Dogcopter constellation.

Astral Projection

Another quick summary. I’ve written a lot on this psychic ghost stuff so check my blog if you want the tags, idrc. Summary of astral projection powers Steven has shown:

Leaving his body (Reunited, Escapism)

Possessing other bodies (New Lars, Escapism, SWI)

Traveling to others’ dreams (Kiki’s Pizza, Chille Tid)

Interacting with fusion components within the fusion’s mind (Chille Tid, Mindful)

Regarding KBCS’s question of whether Rose could have done this, it doesn’t seem impossible - and as of Fragments and Homeworld Bound, we know that Gems don’t die when they are killed. (Lol.) That is, the personality/soul can appear in the same gem if it’s shattered and repaired. And Steven’s mom’s gem is perfectly intact, inside him. 

Literally what is the point of all this

So after KBCS and KBCW spent so long talking about astral projection, ghosts, dreams, fusions, etc etc. they never actually got to the point - just pointed us in the direction of a bunch of clues that 

Rose Quartz isn’t gone.

Obviously. She’s in his gem in him, like Lapis and the mirror, or the lighthouse gem. She uses astral projection to help Steven in his dreams as well as see him in Rose’s room, like other fusions speak in the mindscape. (There’s a lot more to this but this is enough to ask anyone to wrap their head around atm) 

She also interacts with him through other bodies, the same way Steven takes over Lars’ body, or the Watermelon Stevens. 

Remember this?

We, here at Keep Beach City Safe, thought that Steven would’ve liked to have his mom at his birthday party.

Who came to Steven’s birthday in which Connie points out that Dogcopter constellation?

Who gave Steven advice when he wished he could talk to his mom?

Who showed Steven where to find the tape?

Who else could have asked Steven, “What do you want” in Susan Egan’s voice? 

(Why did they choose to hire Susan Egan to voice a cameo in Under the Knife in the first few seconds of Fusion Cuisine, where she says “It’s my son!” while Lion is onscreen)

Or reassured him that Rose’s tape was telling him the truth?

Who first brought him to Pink Diamond’s moon base?

Who knew where Rose’s armory was and how to train with it? (Note the giant penny)

Who showed Steven the location of Pink’s fallen palanquin?

Who found Rose’s lost scabbard?

and knew where Pearl would run to when she’s upset?

Who (reluctantly) brought Steven to the landfill and Pink Diamond’s ship?

Who showed him how to find Malachite?

Twice?

Who showed him how Pink Diamond tried to stop the Earth’s colonization, and who to ask for the truth?

Who tried to entertain him on Mask Island when he was trapped on Homeworld?

And then rescued him from the open sea?

Who showed Stevonnie the password to Yellow Diamond’s moon base?

Much like Koala Princess’ vision in the Eucalyptus Jungle in Season 5, Episode 13 what you saw on the Boardwalk the other day was not what it seemed. 

So yeah Rose is Lion 2020. Thanks for reading this extremely long nonsense.

Also thanks to @babybeetlebongos​ for both mindscape lore and fixing Ronaldo’s cheek in the banner image, lol. I made a Twitter thread about this as well (and the more in depth Lion and astral projection theory threads are quoted at the top, if you need them. the #mindscape deeplore 2020 tag/tags on this post have stuff too.)

[broken-minded-love]

@sad-sweet-cowboah Hope you don’t mind if I start a new post here, I don’t want to prolong the debate by doing this, but I still have some things to say and the other post is getting kind of ridiculous and is hard to reply to due to it’s length.  I’ll quote a few things from the original thread to keep it linked in reply and physically here for posterity.  [...I know it makes me seem suspicious but I have a habit of reading things without saving them, etc...] I appreciate that you wouldn’t keep track like that, who does? However, I can’t see any credit given to HOGO or her work on your blog/story before the original call out drama in 2019? Obviously you may have done that privately, but I know how fandoms work and there’s a lot of mutual backscratching in drama’s like this so it seems impossible to truly validate any of this independently, which is a shame. Perhaps it was my mistake, but when you said you’d been inspired by HOGO’s fics I assumed she’d written a full fic. I can’t find an actual chaptered fan fic following videogame Arthur in modern times from HOGO, and nothing of him in that setting by himself. It all seems to be involving the gang too, which is quite a different dynamic to what occurs in your series and Wish Upon. I can see how it would be difficult to keep track of HOGO’s posts, even if you were trying too, because I can see dozens of drabbles, but nothing as a titled fic you could keep track of.  I can also see why those little scenes and dialogs may have inspired you, but as I said I can’t see any credit for the inspiration as you claimed? Besides which, it’s all kind of a moot point, because I think the bigger issue seems to be less about the initial inspiration and more about the timing and direct comparisons that can be drawn between your series and Wish Upon.  [...I also included the-awkward-outlaw’s series as an example since you mentioned previously that it’s a “very niche” topic when it’s more popular than one would think. ...] Well, yes, it is now, but it wasn’t to begin with. Ever since the onset of this drama, I’ve only seen a tiny handful of attempts at covering Arthur in the modern world in a fic, which still makes it niche when you compare to the volume of repeated themes in Red Dead fics over all.  It was a completely non existent plotline (at least on AO3/FFNET) in October ‘18 through Jan ‘19, and the game had been out for three months already when @miss-oscurita published Wish Upon. Yet no one had stepped up to bring us a story covering the concept of video game Arthur alive in 2018/9.  The reason Wish Upon hooked me personally, was because it was completely different to the numerous “damsel in distress”, “highborn babe”, “tough outlaw chick” that were a dime a dozen. There was also several “modern reader goes back in time” stories too, but Wish Upon was the first incarnation of Arthur coming out of the game into the modern world, in an actual fic at least. No doubt the idea could have been circulating, but no one had actually taken the time to put it into an actual story to my knowledge.   Does that mean Oscurita should hold a monopoly on the idea? Of course not, but it does explain why anything that followed Wish Upon’s publication, including TOA’s recent works, will be bound to draw comparisons simply because Wish Upon was first on the scene to cover the topic, and as a result is likely the most well known version of it.  I think the real issue here isn’t who all’s covered Arthur living in modern times, it’s more the issue over the dynamic where the protag is familiar with him as a character, because the dynamic of the pairing and the story itself changes so much when it’s explored from that angle. The dynamic is also affected when the fic focuses only on the two main characters (as with the gang being in the modern world in HOGO’s concepts) especially when they are both aware he’s fictional that it’s really something that can only be done once, maybe twice at a push. And yes you’d have to be certifiable to believe ideas won’t overlap, I mean it’s going to be a really hollow story if you don’t cover things like Arthur using a microwave, or using a toothbrush and showering for the first time, or learning to drive, discovering movies and what not. However, from what I seen over the course of this matter, it seems the issue with it all lies in how and when these elements are explored in the story. I may be wrong, but I don’t think there’s ever been an issue raised with any other parts of your series beyond that of As We Meet, has there?  And the issues raised over the original instalment and the rewritten piece seemed to be because it essentially follows the exact pattern of Wish Upon’s first few chapters, as we’ve already discussed.

[... I’m 99% positive the catalyst was a h-o-g-o oneshot of Arthur discovering lingerie...]

Funny that you should mention discovering lingerie when @miss-oscurita’s most recent update included Arthur discovering modern underwear for the first time. I don’t recall in which of your stories he did that?

Just in the interest of being informed, I searched HOGO’s blog and found a chapter mentioning lingerie (which I assume is the one that inspired you?) but that in itself is a classic example of how the same idea can be done by two different people and still be complete different.

Which I’m sorry to say really only further highlights why the similarities in your opening chapters are such a cause for concern.

Regardless of the inspiration, if we list the similarities we have from the original piece, and the rewrite the issues are pretty clear. 

1) Young female gamer protag.

2) Modern day setting.

3) Both have adopted silver tabby cats.

4) Both have the backdrop of being alone on a stormy night.

5) Both involved with an event that brings Arthur out of the game.

6) Both aware of him as a fictional character before being a flesh and blood man.

4) Both immediately assume him to be an intruder.

5) Both think they are dreaming and pinch themselves.

6) Both use touch as a way to confirm he’s there in the flesh.

7) Both fics use the same name for animals.

8) Both fics almost immediately go on to explore Arthur showering, discovering cellphones, watching TV/movies, using a microwave, in almost the exact same order. 9) Both use some variation of the “my Arthur” device. 

Then in the rewrite you make changes to also include:

10) Both use his horse to confirm he’s ripped straight from the game.

11) Both use extremely similar types of names for the horses. 

12) Both work from home, for one reason or another.   Seeing it written out like that I can more understand why people have red flagged it, as it goes a bit beyond simply exploring the same concept as the likes of HOGO/TAO may be doing.  I mean it was bound to flare things up to include additional similar elements. What I don’t get is, knowing how toxic the fandom is, and that you’re under the microscope over this, why you didn’t take the rewrite as an opportunity to distance yourself from those similarities?  And if I’m brutally frank with you here, it does come across as a bit of “drama farming” when you know the consequences of similarities all too well. And what I still don’t get is how you’ve not managed to move away from these controversies?  I’m a lot of a loser, and have kept an eye on this drama since it began and I have to say when you interjected with the other drama around Wish Upon late last year, that came across to me as looking for drama, or at least being lead to it by someone else somewhere. I don’t know where you got the tip off for that, because the post wasn’t tagged and I only saw it due to following @miss-oscurita/you on my fandom account and the other writer in question was very new to the RDR fandom and likely didn’t have much of a following.  Add that to the poor wording on the announcements of your rewrites and you know, I’m sure it’s innocent on your part, but I can see why it doesn’t look good to others.  I mean I could easily believe you were trying to avoid making the stories similar and accidentally included the horse thing simply because your ideas and the ideas from Wish Upon merged, because unless you’re able to keep them firmly separate in your head it’s going to happen now you know of Wish Upon. If it was me, I’d be doing my best to not give anyone any more reason to throw shit at my house. Instead you’ve somehow managed to do the opposite. The rewrite was a missed opportunity to draw a line under all the past drama, and that’s disappointing to see as a reader and a writer too.  I do hope you manage to sort this all out, and that there’s no further public bashing over it all but now the seal is broken on it all it’ll be very hard to prevent the sharks smelling the tiniest drop of blood in the water. 

[moon-riverandme]

And in the Beginning There was... Light, Film Rolls, and Controversy.

Watching old movies has always been one of my favorite pastimes. I love the cracks in the film, the oddly tinted placements of color, the quick, scattered movements of the actors, and the slice of an intertitle. It all just makes sense when I think of those first filmmakers who were trying to make sense of their new medium. In my journey through film, I will start at the beginning. Well, sort of the beginning. Our main topic of discussion takes place in 1903. So we’ve skipped over a few years… 15 to be exact. I’ll sum them up now because if I miss a beat I’ll ruin the scene.

Let's start in October of 1888 when Louis Le Prince has just recorded the very first film. It’s short yet scenic; his family gathers in a garden and for the first time ever - they move. A man walks across the screen, the rigid bustles and day dress of two women sway as they turn away from the camera - ergo we have a moving image years before Edison would invent the kinetoscope. Of course, most don’t know of Le Prince and in school I never heard his name mentioned. In fact, I only heard of him through a Buzzfeed Unsolved video. So what happened? Why did history remember the names Edison and Lumière but not Le Prince?

There were many entries in the race to create the first film. And of course, there are arguments as to what cinema is in comparison to a bunch of still photographs played one after another. Strange, I think is this argument. For film is a series of stills or frames played one right after the other. Nevertheless, in 1878, we have the famous images of a galloping horse caught by twelve cameras set up by Muybridge to capture motion and to study animal locomotion. Motion but not a movie. What we needed was a camera that had a single lens capable of capturing a point of view. That’s what Le Prince did. Unfortunately, as history would see it, he mysteriously disappeared on a train to Paris in September 1890 right before his first public screening in New York carrying luggage that contained all of his work. Neither Le Prince or the luggage has ever been found. Quite the coincidence.

There are a few theories: Le Prince committing suicide, Le Prince’s own brother killing him, Le Prince fleeing due to his sexuality being outed but none have stuck... except one. Le Prince’s widow, Lizzie, believed Edison, his biggest competitor in the race, had him assassinated. The evidence? The discovery of Edison’s journal containing the following entry, which has been proven authentic. It read:

“Eric called me today from Dijon. It has been done. Prince is no more. This is good news but I flinched when he told me. Murder is not my thing. I'm an inventor and my inventions for moving images can now move forward.”

Take of that what you will.

Today, we are taught that Edison’s kinetoscope launched the novel medium of moving pictures into our familiar. When it was invented in 1891 by Edison and Dickson, the kinetoscope was a peepshow-like device with a "sight opening" on top that one viewer at a time could look into and watch a moving picture. Think about it like looking into a microscope - very different from how we view films now both in method and price, it was 50 cents for access to all films at a given venue.

In 1897, an improvement on Edison's device arose. Invented by the Lumière brothers, the cinematograph contained both a camera, projector, and hand crank. Now, audiences could sit and screen films. I'll circle back to Edison as he connects to our 1903 topic. But first, let's take a stop with the Lumière brothers.

Auguste and Louis Lumière are credited as the first filmmakers. Their documentary-esque films Workers Leaving The Lumière Factory and Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat are milestones in cinema. Known as travelogues or actualités, they showed the casual and working life of people in the mid to late 1890's. These shorts were even screened to audiences who jumped out of their seats at a train onscreen because they thought it would actually hit them. The Lumière Brothers took their screening all over the world, from Paris, to India, and China.

Watching these films, it's hard not to put yourself in the shoes of a passerby, a random person whose name we don't know, who exists in a few frames before disappearing to time. Like a fossil, it's interesting to examine what life was like back then. I love seeing the clothing. Everyone is so formal, at least compared to the laid back air of today. Even so, in the 1890’s people were moving away from the Victorian Era and into the “New Woman” Era. High necklines and longer sleeves were replaced by the open neck and short sleeves as morning turned to dusk. High chiffons under feathered hats were popular as was the shirtwaist style for work. All of these visible in the Lumière films.

Where we jump from reportage to fiction is where we jump from Lumière to Porter. And back to Edison, who had Porter working for him. Projectionist and electrician turned director, Edwin S. Porter was the brains behind many of the mechanics and techniques that have become so highly engrained in the making of films that the idea of them being novel seems almost impossible. In 1899, Porter became head of moving picture production at the Edison Manufacturing Company and throughout his career, which spanned about 15 years, he made more than 70 short films. So lets look at a few of them in detail.

Jack and the Beanstalk (1902)

You'll see that a lot of the narrative ideas for these early films spun directly out of fairytales. For an audience, fairytales were a familiarity. Thus, they were able to stitch together what they already knew about the characters and stories and better understand these new moving pictures. And Porter knew this from his work as a projectionist. He knew what engaged the audience most. And that wasn't just story, it was technique. Porter's films were revolutionary for what would become known as editing, at that time just cutting film. Simplistic and impactful, he knew how to compact time and create magic. Objects and people appear and disappear in a single cut. The camera remains still, a wide shot, and on a tripod but what's in front of it changes slightly, making for magical realism. For example, once Jack makes it back down to earth after descending the beanstalk, he grabs an ax and starts chopping it down. He's got to do this or the giant chasing him will make it down too. So he swings the ax a few times with all his might. From a large beanstalk, ripe with leaves, reaching up to the sky, we immediately cut to a destroyed one. The fact that we end one cut with Jack in the same position as we start the next, keeps from disrupting the audience even though everything else onscreen has changed. We've condensed time, Jack has saved the day, and the Giant has fallen to his death. Porter would expand on this editing style, perfecting it, discovering cross-cutting.

Life of an American Fireman (1903)

Cross-cutting or parallel action is so integral to editing that it happens in just about every film. Simply, two separate events are occurring - say, a woman trying to escape a fire inside of her house and firefighters rushing in a horse carriage to save her. These two events, perceived to be happening at the same time, are stitched together through editing so that the audience experiences both. Cut to the woman in her house as the fire inches closer to her. Cut to the firefighters rushing up the stairs. Will they get there? Will they save her? Cross-cutting serves to create tension and set the rhythm of a scene. Eventually, the two spatial points of view merge and the conflict should be resolved. This originates in Porter's films and Life of An American Fireman is the first one that shows it off.

Let's cut back to the first shot of this film, it's a trick shot. A sleepy fireman dreams of a mother putting her daughter to bed. Abruptly, the fire alarm is set off and he wakes up. Instead of cutting from the fireman dozing off in his chair to a separate shot of the mother, which would create confusion on whether the fireman was dreaming, Porter uses double exposure to frame the dream above the fireman shoulder. Double exposure had been employed by photographers since the 1860's to produce dreamy situations in otherwise ordinary places but in film, it first appears in Georges Méliès Four Heads are Better Than One. When we see the house aflame for the first time in Life of an American Fireman, the same mother and daughter from the dream pair reappear. The fireman's premonition connects back to the main drama of the story.

The Great Train Robbery (1903)

In this film we take the leap from a theatrical approach to cinematography, where the camera simply watches the action at a long-shot or observing eye, to being involved in the action. One way that Porter does this is by integrating the pan.

Panning is a technique that moves a camera side to side in a fixed location. We haven't taken the camera off of a tripod or stepped forward in anyway, we are simply turning left or right on the horizontal axis. If we took a step forward and followed a character or action we'd have a tracking shot. But we aren't there yet so plant your feet in the ground for now. Porter uses pans to reveal. The first pan is executed about six minutes into the film. The robbers jump off the caboose with their stolen goods and make a run for it. But where are they going? Queue the pan and we find out it's down some steep hills and into a forest. The subsequent shot is them in the thicket of a forest. Running passed the camera until all but one have exited camera left. But how will they get out? Queue the second pan to reveal horses - their getaway plan. This pan is masterfully done. I love the way Porter keeps his camera static and just observes the tumbling, running robbers until only one is left onscreen. Then and only then does he pan left to reveal the horses. By leaving only one person onscreen, not only does the audience have less to track but so does the camera. Simplifying the frame down to only the necessities of the action, one robber running away in a forest, amplifies the pan and makes the reveal feel complete - we reunite with the group of robbers and horses.

Depending on which version of the film you watch, you might be surprised by waves of color among a sea of black and white. Tinting whole films blue, amber, or sepia has been around since the origins of moving pictures, but in The Great Train Robbery, Porter selects specific actions or objects to tint. This was all done by hand.

Color is one big manipulator. Think of light blue and you'll likely picture endless summer skies; an air of calm. How about Green? I picture the tangled tree webs of a jungle - adventure, growth, the smell of dew on fresh leaves, nature. Now red. Explosions, fire, burst of emotion. Yellow? A bright, morning sun, a blooming sunflower, happiness, positivity, a new start. Early filmmakers used color to bring attention to specific objects, people, and actions. They used it to draw out an emotion from the viewer. They used it to connect themes of violence, love, and happiness. And they used it to spice up their frame.

Porter hand paints the explosion of a train lockbox bright orange and a deep red. The smokey pops from gunshots are also a fiery red. The dress of a dancing woman is bright yellow. The coat of another girl is a rich purple. The addition of color cultivates realism but also gives the film a flair of the imaginary.

So, we have the creative process of tinting to enhance the visual characteristics of a story and we have panning to push forward the important aspects of a narrative. Let's add a few more ingredients to our recipe.

Because the story cuts back and forth between the robbers, the operator, and the posse of men who will eventually hunt down the robbers, it has parallel action. Three separate storylines, integrated through the edit, that coverage at the end. Now that we have the way in which the story is cut and delivered, how about some specific effects?

In shots where the action occurs inside the prop train, which is not moving but the audience is meant to believe it is, Porter uses double exposure to ground his location in reality. He filmed exterior, moving shots and layered them onto the static train shots. In the '30s this would become known as "rear projection".

Additionally, Porter creatively placed his camera in new ways to produce frames that diverged from the typical wide shot; bringing the viewer closer into the action. For example, at about 2 minutes and 50 seconds in, the camera is propped on top of the engine car roof while a sneaking robber crawls passed and kills a fireman.

At last we arrive at the final shot. Diverging from the narrative, Porter set this up to look like a wanted poster. It is filmed in a medium close-up, which serves to focus all attention on the subject by filming them waist-up, having them fill up most of the frame, and blocking out the surrounding environment. The robber points his revolver right at the camera and shoots six times. If you've ever seen Goodfellas, Martin Scorsese recreates this at the end with Joe Pesci. Seemingly, the purpose was to shoot the audience. To tell them even though all of these robbers were killed in the end, their spirit doesn't die. It says "I'm warning you- it's still dangerous out there." Funny enough, this wasn't even the original intention. The shot was promotional and where it ended up in the film was entirely up to the projectionist. It could've just as well been placed at the beginning if they wanted. Even so, the break in the fourth wall and punch of dramatics that ended the film still prevail through cinema history today. Completing the recipe for one the first Westerns, ripe with shootouts, chase sequences, bandits, and suspense.

The Kleptomaniac (1905)

When moving pictures are void of sound and spoken dialogue it's a bit difficult to understand what characters are doing onscreen. Heightened emotional and physicalized acting made up for this. Through facial expressions and over the top, exaggerated body movements, audiences could connect the dots to figure out what was going on in a scene. But in 1903, Porter directed Uncle Tom's Cabin and introduced intertitles, words that would appear printed onscreen. Early iterations of intertitles read like book chapters. They described the main action that was about to take place in the scene. In Uncle Tom's Cabin some examples include: "The Escape of Eliza", "Rescue of Eva", and "Tom and Eva in the Garden. In The Kleptomaniac, intertitles state location and give context to where we are, which is helpful because without them, I don't think I could follow what was going on - at all.

Location is such a main element in this film that intertitles are practically non negotiable. "Leaving Home", "Arriving at the Store", "Home of Thief", and "Court Room Scene", prepare us with the information that is necessary to fully understand the purpose of each scene. The department store shot isn't clear-cut. It could've been a mail room or an office. If we miss that it's a department store that our main character is visiting (and stealing from), we miss the connection to the thief stealing food later on in the film and thus miss the whole theme of class disparities. The intertitles supplement for lack of onscreen information and sound. They would be used regularly in the silent era, branching into dialogue intertitles and expositionary intertitles before dying out with the advent of sound.

[unsurepotatohooman]

The Perfect Color

Fandom : TS Sides

Characters : Patton, Logan (Roman and Virgil are mentioned like once)

Genre : Fluff :))

Warnings : None

Word Count : 1884

Summary : Logan loves poetry, and Patton loves Logan. The moral side decides to mix the two.

A/N : I finally finished this story! It took about two hours to write after procrastinating for two and a half weeks and then I edited it a lil. I specifically wrote this fic for @dragonsaphirareads writing contest (who y’all should totally check out btw if you haven’t already). The song used is “Perfect Color” by SafteySuit which I happened to come across not too long ago and I loved it! It sounded so much like Patton so I had to give this a try!! Anyways, enough rambling. I hope you guys enjoy!

Work:

Patton gripped the paper in his hands as he made his way down the hall. He tried his best to keep from shaking but nerves were getting the best of him.

Everyone who knows Logan knows he loves poetry, but you would never know truly how much unless you paid attention. Patton always paid attention. He would observe Logan’s eyes and the way they sparkle like the stars. He would listen to the sound of Logan’s voice as his eyes scanned a particularly interesting piece, and he could hear the wall that Logan held his emotions behind break a little. He would giggle at the tone of Logan’s voice when he would assure Patton that he never sings, and that he only reads the poems. Though, he has rapped to Patton a few times on occasion before and after the video where he battles against Roman. Finally, Patton’s heart would swell as he saw the small smile adorn Logan’s features as he shared something so close with him to Patton, and the proud face he wore when Patton would reference something about poetry. Every time Patton got Logan to talk about poems, he would fall even harder for him.

This is why he decided to ask Logan for poetry lessons. They would visit the class room in Logan’s dream space and would write for hours every Sunday afternoon. Patton took a little while to catch on, and Logan got a little frustrated, but lesson after lesson Patton was finally understanding the concept of it, and had even written a few practice pieces for Logan. Logan was always pleased with Patton’s willingness to learn, and Patton found himself wishing the week away so he could see that smile on Logan’s face again.

It had been about four months since they had started those poetry sessions, and Patton finally admitted to himself that he had feelings for a certain tie-clad side. After a lengthy conversation with Roman, and another conversation with Virgil to help filter out the more... “extreme” suggestions from the creative side, Patton was ready to finally read his secret poem to Logan. He had begun writing it at about their third month in, and finally finished it last week. It took a whole week for him to work up the courage to even mention it to the logical side.

Patton walked up to the indigo colored door and eyed it with a timid expression. He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths and tried to imagine that the situation wasn’t as intimidating as it seemed. Finally, he opened his eyes and knocked as cheerily as he could before he could put this off any longer. 

There were a few long strides from inside the room. Patton heard a lock click and the door slid open to reveal Logan, standing with his usual attire.

“Good afternoon, Patton.”

“Hey Lo lo!” Patton said happily even as the nerves were tearing him up from the inside.

Logan raised an eyebrow at the high pitch in Patton’s voice, but moved aside nonetheless.

“Actually Logan,” Patton started, “I was wondering if you could join me in my dreams space for this lesson.”

Logan gave Patton a skeptic look. “I don’t believe that will be a problem. Give me just a moment.” Logan walked back into his room and returned with a few notebooks and a journal full of his own poems.

“Oh!” Patton exclaimed, “You won’t need those. I’ve got us covered for today.”

“Oh?” Logan questioned, and Patton nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve got it! Don’t you sweat it!”

Logan looked down to his books and back to Patton. “Alright, I trust you Patton.” He then walked back in his room, placed the books down and joined Patton back in the hall.

“Ready?” Patton asked as Logan closed the door firmly behind him.

“Certainly.”

Patton took Logan’s hand and tried to ignore the color growing in his face. The two sunk down together and reappeared in Patton’s dream space, which at the moment, was pitch black.

“I must ask,” Logan started. “Why the sudden change? I know that change tends to not sit very well with you sometimes.”

“I just needed to try something new.” Patton smiled. He took his hand back from Logan, which helped his face to cool down, before snapping his fingers.

In an instant, the whole room around them began to change. Trees merged in from the darkness. In the branches there were fairy lights similar to the ones in Patton’s room. Their shoes disappeared revealing the ground underneath them as it turned to grass with various shades of different color flowers. Patton’s usual fatherly attire changed to a light blue, knee length dress. The rainbow trim matched the many different colored flowers in his flower crown. Logan had also gained a flower crown too of the same kind. Patton couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious when he saw color come to the logical side's face.

“P-patton, what’s going on?” Logan stuttered.

The moral side took a deep breath as he calmed the last bit of anxiety before finally speaking up. “I want to read you a poem.”

Logan had an intrigued but confused look on his reddening face. “You do?”

“Mhm.” Patton hummed, taking Logan’s hands again, “But I have to sing it to you.”

Logan didn’t even sigh at the fact that he was going to listen to another song, which Patton took as his que to begin. Music came from a record player that spawned near the tree line on the edge of the clearing as Patton began to sing.

Yellow nice to meet you

Do you know that you just blue my mind?

It was the perfect conversation, I think that I red about one time

I told a white lie when I told you, I’ve never been green with envy you,

You are the perfect color

Logan rolled his eyes at the very obvious word play, but immediately stopped when Patton pulled Logan to him and began to dance. The moral side’s voice filled the air as he led Logan through the flowy movements as they followed the song.

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Ooh, ooh, ooh

The two sides spun around awkwardly, slowly sinking more and more into the music. Patton and Logan’s faces were both bright red as Patton moved into the verse.

To the misfit and the freaks,

To the outcasts and the geeks,

To the weird kids that don’t care

Cause you feel like you’re not there

To the ones who won’t look in

To the mirror because you’re scared

Don’t let the haters hate become your own, oh, no, no

The logical side focused on the lyrics as he looked down at their feet. Patton knew that Logan, like everyone else at some point in their life, had struggled with being the odd one out. With being the weird, nerd character in Thomas’ videos. Just like everyone else, Logan struggled with his own image and feelings on a daily basis. Patton knew he did even though it was difficult for many to see through Logan’s walls.

Now there is going to always be someone who thinks that art has no meaning

Who looks up at the Sistine Chapel and only sees a ceiling

But you, you you

Well you know what I would say to you?

You know what I would say to you?

Logan met Patton’s eyes as the moral side’s voice grew stronger with the emotion of the song. Their feet swept across the blades of grass as Patton led them along a little faster.

Yellow nice to meet you

Do you know that you just blue my mind?

It was the perfect conversation, I think that I red about one time

I told a white lie when I told you, I’ve never been green with envy you,

You are the perfect color

Their gaze broke as Patton’s face melted into a mischievous smile. Before Logan knew it, he was being twirled around by Patton.

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Ooh, ooh, ooh

Patton pulled Logan back to himself allowing a small giggle to escape his lips during a pause in lyrics. Logan looked at him with wide eyes, but he didn’t say anything. The moral side took Logan by both of his hands and pulled back as he looked him in the eyes.

And in a perfect world

I’d get to say

It’s just black and white

There’s no room for grey

And there’s a color scheme inside every heart

Ours won’t be complete until we have yours

So yellow nice to meet you

Patton’s volume rose before falling into almost a soft whisper as he pulled Logan back in and the two began to slow dance, rocking side to side. The flowers in their crowns brightened as the song went on, the music fuling their vibrant shades.

Yellow nice to meet you

Do you know that you just blue my mind?

It was the perfect conversation, I think that I red about one time

I told a white lie when I told you, I’ve never been green with envy you,

You are the perfect color

Ooh, ooh, ooh

The music came back in full force, Patton’s voice rising back up with the volume as he poured his heart and soul out to the man he was holding and who was holding him.

Yellow nice to meet you

Do you know that you just blue my mind?

It was the perfect conversation, I think that I red about one time

I told a white lie when I told you, I’ve never been green with envy you,

You are the perfect color

Ooh, ooh, ooh

As the song came to a close, Logan spun Patton around before bringing the shorter of the two back in. Both of them were out of breath after all of the movement. The air filled with their breathless laughter as they clung to each other's arms. They slow danced for a while, even as the song faded out leaving them with the chirping of crickets and a light, blowing breeze.

“Logan?” Patton finally broke the silence.

“Hm?” Logan hummed, his eyes flickering to Patton as the moral side pulled away to look him in the face.

“I love you, so much. I had no idea how else to tell you.” He smiled sheepishly. “What do you think?”

Logan smiled. He smiled that smile that Patton loved so much that was reserved for the precious things in Logan’s life. The look that the taller of the two repressed to keep up his serious persona. He let down his walls to Patton, and Patton couldn’t ask for anything more as the words left Logan’s lips.

“I think we do make the perfect color.”

They pulled each other close and met in the middle as their lips touched. It was short and new but still filled with so much anxious passion that got both of their thoughts across quickly. When they pulled away, Patton burrowed into Logan’s chest as the two hugged, swaying from side to side as they enjoyed the last few moments of their Sunday afternoon together.

It’s safe to say that this became their new spot for their poetry meets.

[pop-punklouis]

Two Ghosts Dream Theory:

@somethingpoppy wanted me to do this even though we didn’t get the full video. So, I’m doing it <3 The visuals we did get is enough, and with how whimsical and dream-like the entire sequence is, my skin has been itching to at least pick it apart in a dream interpretative style—

 BARREN WASTELAND:

The barren wasteland of the landscape has two very fascinating meanings tied to it in dreams:

To have your subconscious dream of a barren, almost apocalyptic, landscape may represent the feeling of emptiness in your waking life. This could be tied to experiencing a situation where you feel excluded, no one knows you, or perhaps (the most important one) you’ve made changes in your lifestyle that have deemed you unrecognizable: This could symbolize the fight of the closet in Harry’s reality- especially when he sat down to write this song. Maybe, he felt excluded or unrecognizable since he couldn’t express who he really was or who he really loved. On a more positive note, it could also symbolize a more recent interpretation of his song once he recorded it, him making steps to express himself as an LGBTQ+ person which has deemed him unrecognizable to a large portion of his fans/general audience.

To dream of a barren wasteland could be interpreted as feelings about a lack of opportunity or fun. An empty social life. A feeling that nobody around you really wants to help you. A serious situation where you’ve felt on your own in this battle. Feeling that it might take a long time to restore the love or happiness of your life that was around, either with a person, or on your own that was ripped away from you: This can obviously be tied, again, to Harry’s closet. This could’ve been him struggling with the fact that he’s missed out on opportunities and events tied to his community or tied to being free with his sexuality. His social circle, at the time, being plagued with loads of people who were more than happy to perpetuate the straight agenda that was set out for him. Feeling helpless, like no one in arm's length of him can physically help him escape those chains. A very melancholic sensation of being pushed and prodded back into the closet so many times alongside his partner, that he knows it will take a long time for him to feel as restored in his happiness and the purity of his love for himself and this person (Louis) that was suddenly taken away from him (also represented by the first snipped being a very lush and healthy growing scene of nature that could reflect how he felt before the iron closet locked its door).

 Whimsical Landscape:

To dream of a landscape that is more apparent in a dreamlike-haze with unusual or odd features, representing something you might connect with an unpredictable curiosity... could represent the limbo state between wakefulness and sleep. There is a brief period of time between waking and sleep when reality begins to warp. Your subconscious dives deep into early waters of your dream, and the world becomes a bit more whimsical and hallucinatory. To remember dreams with this environment symbolizes the early REM sleep cycle where you’re existing somewhere between sleep and awake— otherwise known as the twilight period. Where reality and fantasy fold into one another: To have a very Dr. Seuss aesthetic that is found in the Two Ghosts music video could mean that the visuals represent a blurring of Harry’s real-life versus his desired life. A FINE LINE if you will. This could represent him being stuck in a sense of limbo where he doesn’t know how to express himself or how it would be perceived due to the stunting his reality has put him through. He, as a person, exists somewhere between sleep and awake, and he’s battling how to break through and live comfortably in that space which could also tie into his identity.

 Rainbow Substance:

Seeing a rainbow either in form or tone in a dream is very similar as how it is when you see it in waking life. It represents a universal symbol of hope, luck, fortune, and wishes. They also are connected to bridges, bridging you from one place to another. This bridge can indicate a turning point for your life. If there are issues around your relationship either inside or by outside forces, these will come to an end. The message behind rainbows in dreams is ALWAYS “keep on keeping on” since they are the light after a storm: This could represent Harry keeping the faith and not losing sight of what he’s been striving towards as he goes through these hardships that can sometimes turn into barren wastelands. The rainbow oozing out of the ground and encapsulating the environment could indicate that bridge of change that is on the horizon, only brighter skies and more life that is left to be lived in his future with his identity and his partner.

When RAINBOW COLORS are seen in a dream, it’s incredibly important to pay attention to the more prominent colors in the rainbow. If the rainbow seems to have a distinctive color pattern there might be an indication that there’s hidden meaning between those tones. In Harry’s rainbow, the colors that are highlighted the most are blue, pink, and yellow.

BLUE: The color blue in a dream symbolizes trustworthiness, devotion, and healing. It also represents karma and natural energy: With Harry’s partner, Louis, being associated with everything blue, the blue tone of the rainbow could indicate him above all else. How Louis keeps him believing in trust and devotion. How Louis has always radiated a healing power to his energy, and of course, the karma that will rise as their relationship stands strong and flourishes.

PINK: Hues of pink in a dream usually represent love, joy, happiness, and kindness. In hotter tones it can represent lust and passion: With Harry wading in the rainbow river, this color could symbolize giving into and trying to submerge himself into the mindset of giving back love and happiness and kindness to the world even though he hasn’t always been shown it in return. It can also represent how bathing himself in that rainbow could give him all those feelings, genuinely.

YELLOW: The color yellow is symbolic of integrity, intelligence, sunny disposition, and harmony: Again, having yellow feature heavily in the rainbow could indicate how wading in this rainbow river and bathing in its colors could finally give Harry peace of mind. He could finally live freely if he was able to completely soak himself in the colors of the rainbow.

 Texture of the Rainbow:

To dream of a substance being sticky or thick in texture that you are wading through can indicate hardships in life that are difficult to get out of. It can represent a situation or idea that you’re slowly being consumed by whether you’re in control of it or not: It’s evident from the clips presented in the two ghosts music video that the rainbow sludge is a very gloopy texture by the way that it hangs and drips from the trees. With the still of Harry standing in the substance it could represent a more wicked symbolism of the rainbow color mixed with its texture. Perhaps it might’ve been easier to play the part of suppressing his sexuality and performing heterosexually to the public and in his personal life. But, the rainbow could’ve been indicative of quicksand. A very complicated and hazardous substance to pull yourself out of. With Harry being stuck in the middle of it, he could’ve tried to steer himself clear of that part of him, but with every move he took the quicksand just further clung to his legs and solidified his place in it, slowly sinking him deeper within. This could mean no matter what he couldn’t get away from the rainbow in his life, and it began consuming every part of him. To the point where he realized that this is who he’s meant to be and the only way to get through the gloop is to work with it instead of against it. (Representative of him picking up pieces of the rainbow in his hand and him bathed in rainbow light in the tour visuals).

 White Button Up Shirt:

To dream of wearing nothing but an oversized white shirt, blouse or button-up, is a very common dream visual. It is a very reassuring symbol, beautiful even. In the modern world, white clothing indicates clarity but not externally. No, the clarity is internal: an internal clarity. When awareness and doing are merged with one another. With this shirt being oversized, it could represent an overwhelming clarity that is almost drowning you as your life is enlightened by its purpose. It’s important to note that the color white is the SUM OF ALL COLORS, reflecting white when the sun hits it which also symbolizes a sense of purity: The most fascinating part of the music video, in my opinion, is Harry’s clothing choice. With him wearing this large white button-up looking down with a mixed expression of curiosity and pensiveness of the rainbow colors soaking his legs, it very well could symbolize how wading in this rainbow river could’ve given him all the inner clarity he needs. Seeing the colors... Indulging in the colors... Knowing that everything regarding who he is and who he wants to become is only possible by being submerged in that rainbow. By willingly touching and accepting the rainbow, all the colors have merged, into one, inside of him creating the white light (sum of all colors) that has given him that clarity and purity he’s been seeking all this time.

[silcntrilcy-blog]

RILEY PEARSON. CISMALE. TWENTY-THREE. ROGUE.

hi !! i’m tess, i’m 18, i’m in cst, and i use she/her pronouns ! i play two babes so far, riley and amelia ! i’ve written out a lot for riles, so i’m just gonna get to it ! i did play this character before, but i’ve revamped him a bit, aged him up a bit, and then did a bit more, so sorry for the novel of a bio ! there is a basics section down below if you’re just skimming for the moment !

My mind is a very dangerous and destructive place; only the darkness survives.

biography

born and raised to two military soldiers in san antonio, texas, riley pearson was nothing short of the perfect son. he was raised strict and proud with a smile on his face and a salute at his fingertips. his mother, lillian, had finished serving her time for her country only a few months after finding out she was pregnant, but his father, jace, was deployed for another service not even a week before riley’s birth. for the first four years of his life, he was a momma’s boy with a picture for a father. lillian worked hard to make sure riley knew who his father was, what he looked like, the sound of his voice from scattered calls and old home videos. when his father returned, all it took was a week of activities to spur into him those four years his father missed. he was an easy adapter, and his parents saw that clearly.

they were a family, and nothing was going to take that away from them. they dressed him up every day and sent him to school, welcomed him with open arms off the bus, and sat together for dinner in the kitchen as they mused over their day. some would call them ideal, others seemed to like the term “robotic”. it continued like this for years, and soon enough, riley realized just how ideal his parents thought he was.

he stayed inside every night, nearing the age of fourteen, while his friends ran off to birthday parties, concerts and soccer practice. he had never realized his parent’s overbearing expectations until he was made to realize that hardly any other kid had them. he began to hate his home.

he started breaking rules— staying out past curfew, never doing his homework, running away to friend’s houses for days on end, not as much as a text home to let his parents know he was alright. he had gone from the golden boy to the town nuisance. but it was only when he was caught with drugs (weed) at school did his parents draw the line.

he had just turned fifteen when his parents shipped him off to military boot camp. he was infuriated, acting out for nearly a month when he first got there, but slowly he started to condemn to their rules. he began to fall back to that perfect, golden child that he was before. he took his drill sergeant's orders as if they came from his parents. he started making friends, basking in the life he had taken for granted. and not three years later, he was stepping off the bus from boot camp, a smile on his face and a pep in his step. he was happy to see his parents— he figured maybe life would be perfect now. they were going to be this ideal, uniform family again, no matter how robotic. he realized everything his parents did, every little rule and promise, it all was meant to make him into a better man, to keep him on a straight line. over the years, he saw kids continuing to rebel within the boot camp, pushing their luck and ending up worse in the end. it was a never ending cycle, and he wanted no part of it. oh how did his dreams fly.

one year after riley stepped off the bus from bootcamp, his entire ideal world crumbled. a virus swept over the world and the dead began walking. everything his parents had trained for, everything he had trained for, was surrounding them in hoards. they grabbed everything they could and darted off to the first military base they could find, leaving everyone they ever knew behind. they were soldiers now— but they weren’t fighting for their country; they were fighting for their lives.

the pearson family lasted three months. three months of family bonding and survival all washed down the drain when their military base was overrun by an enormous hoard of the undead. soldiers fought bravely, proudly, and children cowered behind whatever family they had left. riley and his parents were in the front of the battle, and as his mother called out a final i love you, her arm was torn apart. his father jumped in to save her, and his leg was attacked from behind. all the while, riley watched in frozen terror as the family he once knew was ripped to shreds.

he couldn’t remember what happened— maybe he fought his way through, maybe he cowered behind everyone else until the last dead had dropped, maybe he slept through it all, but somehow, some way, riley walked out of that base with his life, his father’s jacket, and a gun, not a thing else. no one else survived, that he knows of, and he was the last one alive to tell the tale.

after that, he took no chances. three years of bootcamp and an entire life of military parents taught him how to fight like a soldier no matter what world he was in. he became a cold killer, fighting for himself and only himself. the memory of his parents burned in the front of his brain— they died for him, and he was damn sure not going to let their death be in vain. so he fights for himself, for the world he remembers, and he does whatever it takes to survive— no matter the cost.

he’s became colder, crueler, more sculpted by this world than he ever had been. he resorted to staying silent on most occasions, rarely a full phrase spewing from his lips. he’s fell into an emotionless state for a long time, pushing himself away from other survivors, knowing no matter what, they’d all end up the same. in his mind, there was no point to friendships anymore, no point in taking the time to get to know someone if their fate was already sealed. this mindset hurt him more than he could comprehend, and it took a while for him to learn from his mistakes

it was only last year that riley began travelling with another survivor, italia. they had crossed paths time and time again over the years, and at some point, they just stopped leaving eachother. this... bond, friendship, whatever they wanted to call it, it’s what he needed to chip away at that cold, hard exterior. she had the same sadness in her eyes, the same trauma laced in her veins, and somehow, their pain merged. suddenly, he was talking again, the sentences getting longer as time passed. but of course, tragedy always found riley.

only a few months after joining italia in the apocalypse, riley came face to face with someone he thought he’d never see again. at first, riley thought it was just another bug eye, a stage three that was just begging for a bullet between the eyes. but that flash of camo and the glimmer of a rusted locket hanging around rotting skin, riley felt his whole world collapse ontop of him. it was his mother, in all her rotting glory. 

riley broke. for the first time in years, he let himself break down, right in front of the one person he knew would understand. together, two fingers on the trigger of a shaking gun, riley and italia put his mother to rest. he buried his mother with his father’s old military jacket, his most prized possession, and traded it in for the locket that held years of memories between the rusted engravings. it took him another month or two to push down the urge to burst into tears. 

riley blamed himself for what happened to his mother, not only her death, but for her afterlife. she was left to roam the world for years as a rotting corpse, all because he didn’t take the time to give her mercy back at the base. his father, god knows where he is. 

he took those months to heal, to put the pieces back together, and now he’s managing to live a functional life. he’s speaking more, managing full phrases, almost keeping a conversation. it’s a complete 180 of the boy he used to be.

basics.

riley is an 23 year old survivor who witnessed the death of his parents around 4 ago on a military base where they and many other families had escaped to during the initial outbreak. his family was military born and raised, all of them as uniform and perfect as you would expect. when his teen years came along, he began to rebel— running away, getting mixed up with drugs, general disrespectful teenager stuff. when his parents had decided they had taken enough, they shipped him off to military boot camp, and three years later, riley pearson stepped off that bus and walked home a perfect soldier. he had hoped everything would return to how it used to be before he had ruined it all, but a year after he returned home, the outbreak began and all hopes of a perfect life were destroyed. after the death of his parents, he was the lone survivor of the military base and the last remaining piece of his family. he has become cold since their death, nearly emotionless, only continuing to fight for the sake of his family’s memory. he’s no longer much of a talker, and after seeing his mother’s corpse just a year ago, he’s wondering if he’ll ever get back to the boy he once was. he’s currently travelling alongside another survivor, italia, and she has helped him to speak more, managing full phrases, sometimes even sentences.

wanted connections.

bootcamp buddies - this is someone that riley met in bootcamp and became friends with during those three years. they wouldn’t know about riley’s past since the bootcamp, i.e. the death of his parents and the loss of everything he loves, so this reunion would be quite the awkward one taken by dani jennings 

trading partners - riley has decided to trade with a very select group of people, all single rogues or rogue pairs, and has kept the personal information to the bare minimum. they meet at set locations, on a routine schedule so not everyone is there at once, and trade the basic needs of what they have. i’d love to have some of these trading partners!

an ex ? - this would be from his rebellious years, before the three years in bootcamp (or honestly maybe even the beginning of boot camp ? ). he is a completely different person than he was back then, though he has fallen into some of his old habits (smoking). this could be fun !

his uncle - there is a wc on the main for this !!! i’d love to see him around

those are all i’ve really got now, but if you’d like to plot or fill a connection, hmu! my ims are always open and i do have a discord !

[astrology-with-charu]

10-12 June Astrology Horoscope- Today Jupiter the planet of expansion, growth, knowledge, travel, adventure, trade, faith, foreign cultural influences - comes closest to earth in its orbit. Below quick update for each sign

Today Jupiter the planet of expansion, growth, knowledge, travel, adventure, trade, faith, foreign cultural influences - comes closest to earth in its orbit. It infuses these qualities into our work, our persona, our thoughts, every fibre of our surroundings as it makes an opposition to Sun.

Imbibe it’s turn around, it’s expansion, make a blue print of your success plan today as you are shown a wider world than you have ever imagined. Our imagination takes a flight & so must we. Our mind is being opened to a new possibility that we didn’t see , which could be key to our growth, so keep your senses open to receive this divine energy as it enlightens us.

It works with nebulous Neptune so creativity will be at its peak & so would be Creative selling of ideas & misinformation. Stand guard to the door of your minds as you only want what’s in line with your values to get in💫

I indicate below the areas of life for each sign where a latent opportunity might be woken up & what would be the method of its expression that you might see this week. Also look at my first half videos for each sign as I go in-depth on the upcoming Angarak Yog later in the week which we need to take precautions on. Love & Light ✨

Warning for 12-16 Jun by sign

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLv3tUTLu8-MTIEmuVKTo_5BR_8uTRQ07M

First half of June by sign

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLv3tUTLu8-MRwzrNpefo6to73TIRjRlb-

Details by Rising/Sun/Moon sign :

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

♈️ #Aries

Latent opportunities related to travel, foreign trade, legalisation, relocation, education, mentorship, teaching, on job training opens through discussions or negotiations. Clues are in your immediate surroundings & help at arms length

♉️ #Taurus

Gift of regeneration financially or in intimacy - encourages unblocks the path of reinventing yourself in your financial destiny, in your ego, in your power, in your ability to weed out detoxing your life. Merging with another helps. Your own faith, confidence & talents get you there though merging talents, resources can be beneficial too

♊️ #Gemini

Expansion in scope & benefits from a partnership, you relate to another in positive fashion whether in business or personal one on one relationship. Voila moment of how to make a career path work or a committed relationship work comes through a partner. Partnerships are source of benefit, reach out, you will be surprised by the amount of support. Happy birthday again!

♋️ #Cancer

Health is wealth & you are receiving one way or another a dose of self care. Do it proactively & it will bring immense health benefits. Your day to day routines are being made to fit your broader ambitions, make a change in your place of work, route to work, decoration at work & add a daily health routine even small, you will be surprised how self care leads to immediate shifts in your work situation as mind body connection is strong right now. A career situation resolved unlocks in surprising ways

♌️ #Leo

Good old luck & Happy Karma is looking for Leos, it’s asking you take a risk in your personal & business life as you are being shown through a Friend, a network person, a platform that you are more than what you have so far shown to the world. It’s infusing you with faith, confidence to unlock a creative business opportunity or romance opportunity which requires you to step away from your comfort zone. Take a leap, taking a risk on your talents is currently favoured & rewarded.

♍️ #Virgo

Home family inner world is source of expansion, faith, comfort & you see a positive turn around possibly in a real estate, parent, parenting, family situation which gives you the right base to take a leap in your career. The new start in your career this month gets supported in some ways by your family or your inner security system goes green which previously might not have been the case, stopping you from spreading your wings fully. Home is a sanctuary of growth which overflows to work

♎️ #Libra

Commercial contract, communication, media opportunity, a business discussion stuck for months - May be you just needed a broad perspective or a guidance from mentor, boss, your own inner knowledge - to move that forward. You see the big picture now which helps you be commercially successful. Health can be pesky but if your thoughts are focused on this positive momentum you will feel stronger than you have left in ages. Mind is creating body.

♏️ #Scorpio

The key to financial abundance, self worth, expanded commercially viable talents - what is it ? This aspect will provide clues this month - what do I need to do - a door opens lightly & you gotto push it fully open to get in & through. Enthusiasm, Hope, self worth is being expanded & it will show up visibly in your public image. Your own inner power, detoxing unwanted expenses/health habits/negative people & talk will support you. Potential committed partners can be source of support but you gotto get over your inhibition & ego barrier & just ask for help where you need it

♐️ #Sagittarius

It’s all about you, your whole persona, your body, mind, influence, career it’s being imbibed with a new life, absorb it all as you are shown a vision beyond current reality where you will get through your own will, merging strategically with influential partners & influencing right business sponsors. Time to show your optimistic self & reflect it in your travels/publication/foreign client discussions/business partnerships. Faith, religion, unconditional love for your goal & partner helps carry you through to your desired destination. Remember this is once in decade growth, aim with care💫

♑️ #Capricorn

Unlocking a behind the scene support system, a hope, a faith in your future coming through a benefit from a hidden beneficiary or powers high above changes the scene of your work environment, career progression & thereafter your health. Taking a break from the crowd, self care, spirituality, charity, alternative healing methods, Long distance travel can unlock this untapped potential which shows up in your career, in your joint finances & joint intimacy. Open your mind to this new dimension a travel, a beneficiary, a communication is showing you 💫

♒️ #Aquarius

This is rewards, dreams, hopes, bigger vision of life, social status, social acceptance of your talents that was blocked for some time & you might see a turn around by you performing without inhibition in a public setting or you taking the requisite personal or business risk as is required. It expands your network presence, support or fan base for your platform or products & results in relationships or client inflows. Being you, unapologetically you, personal stamp of creativity on what you present will help. A Friend, a influential business partner, a sibling can give a few clues which you want to listen to.

♓️ #Pisces

Career expansion, once in a decade big step comes from you going beyond your security blanket or family patterns - as a shift in your personal life prompts a career shift. It’s a turning point in your public image, in your career, in your leadership as you are put in spotlight & urged to dissolve old self image. You are not who you used to be so why would we still respond in the same way when an opportunity is sitting in front of us waiting to be had & explored. On the TOP inspiration - yes, confusion - yes , should I back out - no. Just make sure your career path imbibes your personal brand of creativity, it’s true to you & you are not responding as other wants you to. Sometimes we need to walk in fog so we aren’t scared to walk on clouds, there is uncertainty but it’s required to dissolve old life, keep faith, walk on grass bare feet if life feels without a solid base

Love 💕

[jenniferdiazisatransgirl]

Cleaved

I hope you enjoy doing all those edits @incorrect-trans-marco because trans Marco didn’t become canon.

The crew seems to have kept its promise to not disprove the theory though which is great. We can dream of what the future holds for Marco, that they might come out in the future.

I was actually starting this with little to say, but I have something to actually say now. Earth and Mewni and what seems to be all the other dimensions have now merge it seems. I know we only largely got to see Mewni, but the dragon cycles flying above suggests Hekapoo’s dimension is also there. My point is, Marco was an interdimensional celebrity as Princess Turdina. Aside from Marco’s parents and likely Janna knowing about it though, I doubt anyone else on Earth knew, particularly Marco’s school friends.

Since “Running with Scissors” aired I had a theory which I called my Escapism Theory. Since I came up with it, it has been a theory that works so well. Marco since Season 3 especially has had this separate life on Mewni. My theory, is to figure things out Marco has been hiding out in Mewni, a place where more or less no one knows them and the people who do know Marco, don’t really care what Marco does. For me, my escapism was video games and for Marco it seems to be Mewni.

And this is where a nice metaphor can come into play, whether intentional or by happy accident, both of Marco’s worlds have now merged. The world where Marco goes to escape and the world which is Marco’s home. Marco’s school friends will now find out about Princess Turdina and some of those questions that I suspect Marco has been avoiding on Earth may finally be raised and perhaps Marco will finally come out.

I have one complaint about “Cleaved” and that was that Marco didn’t wear the Princess Turdina get up, lol.

I hope you enjoy this post and while this blog isn’t going anywhere, I just want to once again say thank you to all of you who have followed and supported this blog. Without you guys this blog wouldn’t exist and these past 2 years have certainly been a hell of a ride.

And for those of you who have missed my previous posts on the matter, just a few little bits on the future of this blog;

1. The trans Marco theory isn’t dying or going silent today. In December I came up with the idea of doing a book about the Trans Marco Theory. It is being written by myself, @infernalpume, @marcodiazisatransgirl, @evilguacamole, @xanotherxdimensionx and @breastforce. It is in the early stages as it stands and when season 4 started I put a bit of a hiatus on writing it so we’d know what the outcome would be. As we get on with writing it, more details will come to surface but we’re not done yet. We have one more finale to give you guys.

2. “Changers” The TV Series

- After the above and the dust has settled on SVTFOE this blog is gonna slowly cease to have a purpose, beyond reblogging what I see on Tumblrs. And I have really enjoyed running this blog and I’d hate to let it devolve into having no purpose.

My next big focus is a book series I love called “Changers” by T. Cooper and Alison Glock-Cooper is being adapted to TV. Unfortunately since 2015 there hasn’t been much news about this, but I did confirm with T. Cooper that it is still going ahead. The series does have many LGBT themes though and a focus on issues impacting minority groups and is quite interesting.

3. “Gilmore Girls”

- In all likelyhood “Gilmore Girls” is going to have another season some point in the future. When this will happen is like asking, “what is a length of a piece of string?” It could be next year, 5 years from now, 10, even 20 years from now.

As a more longer term project though, I am a huge fan of “Gilmore Girls” and have some fan theories for the next season. I will basically keep an eye on “Gilmore Girls” news though and post relevant updates.

4. I am open to suggestions on any TV shows you’d like me to focus on. Post to my inbox and I will give them a look.

5. I’ll probably get started on this once the book is done, but I write a story based on a second British Empire where the main character, His Imperial Majesty, The Grand Supreme Emperor Carl Richman is a deeply closeted trans woman. It is largely a political sci-fi but once I get started writing this again, if anyone is interested feel free to check it out on @tu-gov.

Anyway, for now this is all I have to write. I hope you enjoy my analysis of the episode and I hope you’ll stick around for my future projects.

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - when you’re feeling sensitive

This work, 敏感时刻, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it

The original work is split into two parts but angst isn’t good for digestion so I merged them (¯▿¯)

[ VICTOR ]

It isn’t the first time you’ve seen such things.

Ever since your relationship with Victor was disclosed to the public, negative comments on the Internet became a staple to your daily life.

They were all in unison, stating that you weren’t good enough for Victor. 

Victor - the young and promising CEO of Loveland Financial Group, the ideal man for innumerable women.

But he chose to be with a girl like you.

You - a producer from a small, unknown company. 

Because of you, the dreams of countless women were shattered.

Although Victor has already been doing what he can, such as dedicating a small team to control the harsh comments levelled against you, it’s natural that you’d feel stung by such comments. 

Am I really not suitable for Victor?

Why is Victor even with a girl like you?

“I’m back.”

Victor’s voice disrupts your train of thought.

You shake the lingering thoughts out of your head, then plaster a smile on your face to greet him.

“Welcome home.”

However, the moment your eyes flit to Victor’s shirt, your smile freezes in place.

There’s an obvious lipstick mark on it.

It’d be a lie to say that you aren’t upset.

Victor notices the slight change in your expression, immediately taking a step closer to you.

“What’s wrong?”

You push Victor’s outstretched hand away, then brush past him. 

“Nothing. I’m going over to Kiki’s house for a couple of days.”

Perhaps what they said wasn’t wrong, and you were not worthy to be with him.

Perhaps you never should have fallen for him.

-

It’s rare for you to look this dispirited. Immediately sensing that you’re out of sorts, he chases after you, embracing you in his arms.

“What’s wrong? Did things not go smoothly at work?”

He pauses before adding, “If it’s because of comments on the Internet, the legal team in LFG will handle them.

You shake your head, wriggling out of his grip weakly. “Those things are fine.”

Victor loosens his grip, but maintains his posture of hugging you, not letting you go completely.

“You didn’t get the limited-edition lipstick you wanted?”

The moment he brings up the word ‘lipstick’, the floodgates open.

“Let go of me! Since I’m not the only one who leaves lipstick marks on you, go look for other women!”

Victor knits his brows in response to the sudden accusation. “What are you talking about?”

You bite your lip, pointing at the mark on his shirt.

He lowers his head, eyes following your finger. When he releases a sigh, your heart grows several degrees colder. “So it’s because of this?”

Victor retrieves his phone from his pocket, then taps on a video in his photo gallery, showing it to you:

“Dummy, your lipstick got onto my shirt.”

“I did it on purpose! Victor, I want to tell the entire world that you’re my man, so you’re not allowed to wash it off!”

It’s a video of the last time you got drunk. The HD camera captured the scene clearly - the exact same shirt, the exact same location, the exact same lip mark.

He pokes your cheek.

“A certain someone forgot that she got her lipstick on me. And now she’s accusing me of being unfaithful?”

“I was wrong,” you mutter softly.

He sighs, taking you into his arms again. “Are you still leaving?”

You sniff, burying your head into his chest.

“I’m not leaving. Victor, I’m not leaving in this lifetime.”

[ GAVIN ]

It isn’t the first time you’ve seen the “belle of the police station”.

You always seem to bump into her whenever you’re on dates with Gavin.

Every single time she sees the two of you, she’d wear a surprised expression, as though it’s the first time such a “coincidence” has happened.

You never really suspected that there was anything going on between the both of them. 

But Gavin has been gone for far too long on this mission. You haven’t seen him in a month, and haven’t received any calls from him.

Gripping your phone, you’re filled with worry, anxiety, and fear. You have a bad feeling about this whole situation, but decide to try calling him one more time.

Unexpectedly, Gavin picks up.

“Gavin! How are you doing?”

 “I’m now...”

“Gav! I’m here!”

A woman’s shrill voice can be distinctly heard at the other end of the line, and you find yourself no longer registering what Gavin is saying.

It’s the belle of the police station.

And everything clicks. 

You understand why Gavin hasn’t contacted you even after such a long time.

“Gav~ Come over and play!”

“It’s all right, Gavin. You’re busy.” 

You hang up.

A wave of disappointment overwhelms you, and you huddle into a ball before letting the floodgates open.

It’s really upsetting. It’s really, really upsetting.

You never expected Gavin to do such a thing.

You never expected that he would ever leave you.

You thought loving a person meant loving them for an entire lifetime.

But you forgot that life consists of countless variables.

Perhaps you and Gavin were never meant to walk down the same path.

Perhaps the both of you were simply meant to meet for a moment, love for an instant, then continue down separate paths.

-

Gavin stands in the STF command room, his brows furrowed as he stares at the phone, the officer in front of him silent.

Eli looks at the belle of the police station sternly. “Xiao Liu, what’s the meaning of this? Didn’t you know the Commander was in a call with his wife?”

Xiao Lu shrugs. “Sis-in-law isn’t so petty, right? If it were me, I would definitely not keep Gavin on such a tight leash.”

"Shut up.”

It’s rare for Gavin to exude the dignified air of a Commander in front of his subordinates.

“Intern officer Xiao Liu. Given your ranking, it’s inappropriate to address me by name.” While speaking, he rifles through a stack of papers on the table, retrieving a particular report.

Without a moment of hesitation, he writes a “fail” on her assessment results. Gavin slams the completed report on the table, glowering at her.

“Disrespecting your superior, slow-moving, not heeding orders - I can come to a conclusion right now. You’re not suited to be a part of STF. Return to where you came from.”

With tears in her eyes, Xiao Lu strides out of STF.

When Gavin returns home, his girl behaves the same way as always whenever she feels hurt - cocooning herself in blankets, as though she doesn’t have a sense of security at all. Seeing you like this, Gavin feels a tightening in his chest.

He gently peels open your protective cover.

“Hey, I’m back.”

As expected, your eyes are red and swollen.

You shove him away violently, reminiscent of an injured animal - weak, yet stubborn.

Gavin draws you into his arms unyieldingly, not giving you a chance to escape. Distressed, he plants feather-like kisses on your swollen eyes.

“I did not.”

These three words are simple and plain, but sufficient to convince.

You understand what he means, but you can’t help being unreasonable. “She’s always around. This isn’t the first time.”

“I’ve never cared about her whereabouts. If she didn’t participate in this mission as an intern, I wouldn’t even remember what she looks like.”

Gavin is honest, and he states undebatable truths.

You let out a “hmph.”

“She even called you ‘Gav’!”

“I told her to return to where she came from.” Gavin holds you even more tightly, lowering his head to the crook of your neck so he can drink in his favourite scent.

"You’re being so fierce towards me even though we’ve been apart for so long. Should I do something to make up for it?”

[ LUCIEN ]

You wonder if you should just run away right now.

Standing at the door of Lucien’s office, you watch as a girl leans incredibly close to him.

From this angle, there’s virtually no difference from them kissing.

Words spill from the girl’s parted lips.

“Lulu, you like me too, don’t you?” 

So the pet name wasn’t exclusively used by you.

When did Lucien start losing interest in you?

It makes sense though. You can’t match up to anyone in Lucien’s Research Centre. Everyone here is a scientist who has high intellect and stellar academic qualifications. 

And you? You’re just a producer from a small company.

It’s an almost laughable notion that Lucien would like you.

“Lulu, be with me, okay?”

That girl’s voice carries with it the shyness of one who is confessing her love for the first time. You watch as Lucien stands up from his chair, preparing to respond.

“You’re a good woman.”

“Lulu, I just knew you’d agree!”

You can’t bear to listen for even a second longer.

And you start regretting picking up the phone call.

Maybe if you weren’t so curious, you wouldn’t have to witness this, and you could pretend that nothing happened today,

But you came, and you saw what happened.

You can’t tell yourself that nothing did.

Perhaps you aren’t the best partner for Lucien.

Perhaps you aren’t his only butterfly.

-

Eyes wet with tears, you can barely make out the figures of Lucien or the girl through your blurry vision.

You don’t dare to stay behind and listen to Lucien’s answer, afraid to hear an agreement from his lips. But your legs seem to be filled with lead, forcing you to fully appreciate the scene as it unfolds before you.

Lucien takes a step back to put some distance between himself and the girl. His voice is even more firm than usual.

“You’re a very good woman, but it doesn’t mean that I’ve agreed, nor does it mean that I like you.”

You stop breathing.

“First, I need to correct the way you address me. Given your position, you should be calling me ‘Professor Lucien’.” His clear voice carries with it irrefutable authority.

“Also, I already have a family, and I love my wife very much.” Lucien pauses, a look of longing surfacing on his face. “Just like how the painter only has eyes for the butterfly, she is the only colour in my eyes.

He vaguely notices that the girl before him is tearing up. “To me, you’re no different from the other students. Now, please leave my office.”

He walks to the door and pulls it open. Unable to hide in time, he spots you. Although he’s mildly stunned, he quickly recovers, voice gentle.

“Why are you here?”

“I received a call.”

Considering the tacit understanding between the both of you, Lucien guesses what happened. He directs a stern gaze towards the student in the room, and speaks mercilessly. “Maybe I should have a discussion with the Dean regarding whether a particular student should be allowed to stay.”

He takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. Leading you into the office, he lets you sit on his chair, then faces the student.

“Get out of my sight immediately.”

[ KIRO ]

How did things become like this? 

You’re lost in thought, staring at the screen which displays a picture of Kiro at a celebrity dance party.

The funny thing is, the comments left are unanimously supportive.

“A talented man and a beautiful woman - they’re just so compatible!”

What about you? What can you do as Kiro’s girlfriend?

Returning to your own social media page, you’re met with unanimous scathing, humiliating remarks.

Some assert that you snagged Kiro simply because of luck.

Some commented that your subpar looks don’t make you a good match for Kiro.

A small group of fans support your relationship with him.

To be honest, these things didn’t bother you. What you cared about was Kiro.

As long as he loves you, nothing else matters.

But now, it seems like things are going the way you expected them to.

Kiro told you that he was out of the country to film for a movie. Yet, he has been photographed at a celebrity dance party, sparking rumours as a result.

Marketing immediately used this chance to pair the two celebrities together, completely disregarding the existence of you, Kiro’s girlfriend. 

It makes sense though. As a normal citizen, what kind of hot news can you stir?

Why should you be a party to this mismatched love?

Perhaps he’s suited for someone better.

Perhaps being with him is simply an incredibly beautiful dream.

There will inevitably come a day when one has to wake up from a dream.

It’s time for you to wake up.

-

The television is off, and your electronic devices are placed as far away from you as possible. The door to the house is locked, and it’s even bolted with an anti-theft chain that you’ve never used before. All the photo frames featuring the two of you are placed face-down.

You don’t want to hear about anything related to Kiro. All you want is to live in a tiny, empty world belonging only to you.

After calling you for the eighth time only to be notified that your phone has been turned off, Kiro has a bad feeling in his gut.

Savin thrusts a laptop into Kiro’s lap. “Look at what’s trending on the Internet.”

Puzzled, Kiro stares at the screen. The more he scrolls through the pages, the more his eyes darken, and his golden hair faintly turns a shade paler.

“Savin, arrange for a press conference immediately!” Right now!” Kiro whips out his phone, calling you once more. “Miss Chips, please pick up.”

“I’m sorry, the person you are calling is currently unavailable...” The cold, mechanical female voice drones on.

Kiro takes out his notebook laptop, checking the surveillance feed of the house. He sees that you’re seated on the bed, staring out the windows in a trance. Fingers flying across the keyboard, he hacks into the control system, connecting his webcam to the television.

In an instant, his frantic face appears on the television screen.

The sudden lighting up of the television gives you a fright. Seeing Kiro’s face, you feel the burning sensation in your eyes returning.

Miss Chips, don’t believe the fake information on the Internet. I...”

“Kiro, the press conference is ready!”

Savin’s work efficiency is as stellar as always.

“I’ll have to trouble you to hold this laptop.” He turns towards the screen again. “Miss Chips, watch this. Don’t leave, and don’t be upset. I’ll be back soon”

-

“Aside from collaboration for work purposes, I have absolutely no personal relations with her. As for the false rumours on the Internet, my legal team will officially take action, and will also protect my fiancé’s reputation.”

Fiancé? He hasn’t even proposed.

“Also, in front of everyone on the Internet, I wish to propose to my Miss Chips.” Kiro walks in front of the press conference table, taking out a ring he has prepared since a long time ago.

He kneels down on one knee in front of the laptop Savin is holding.

“Miss Chips, will you marry me?”

-

[Cheri’s intrusive thought: I’m imagining how everyone at the press conference would be seeing this LOL]

[ SHAW ]

Unsurprisingly, Shaw’s in Live House.

He hasn’t contacted you for a whole week.

So you’ve been camping in Live House for a week.

It’s been an interesting few days, and you’ve noticed the same girl appearing at his side.

She’s very beautiful, and exudes a certain maturity. As compared to her, you’re clearly inferior.

So why did Shaw pick you instead of her?

Or rather - were you simply a second choice, and will soon be replaced since the true owner of his heart has returned?

The thoughts in your heart spiral into increasingly dangerous waters. 

But the more you think about it, the more you find it plausible.

Shaw seems different when he’s interacting with her. He’s more careful with his tongue, and tends to have a serious expression on his face.

Perhaps he doesn’t show that side of him to just anyone - not even you.

Could this be a sign that he doesn’t love you as much as you think he does?

You’ve gone through a heartbreaking love before, but didn’t expect to experience it again.

Perhaps a sweet romance is unattainable for you.

Perhaps some people have never belonged to you.

-

With a heavy heart, you plan to leave Live House, not wanting to face a break up. Doing it over the phone would be better - he wouldn’t know whether or not you’re crying.

You definitely have to be the one to initiate the breakup. Even if it upsets you, you have to retain your final shred of dignity.

Head lowered as you walk through the entranceway, you bump into Adam, who is just about to enter. Losing your balance, you support yourself on the door frame.

“Eh? Sister? Are you looking for Shaw?” Shock is written all over Adam’s face. “Shaw’s been busy lately.”

You cast a glance inside, but you can no longer see the Shaw nor the woman.

“Mm, I know.”

They probably went into the room. The rehearsal room that you rarely visit...

Completely oblivious to how strange your behaviour is, Adam leads you over to the rehearsal room enthusiastically.

You pause in your steps, keeping your voice calm. “Is it really appropriate for me to enter? Won’t I be disturbing them?

Adam laughs. “No way. Sister, you can just sit at the side and watch without saying anything. They don’t get disturbed easily.”

“I’d better not. I should go.” You decide to retreat, not wanting to hear their sweet nothings, afraid to see how meticulous Shaw is with that woman.

Just as you turn, the door opens.

Shaw stands at the entranceway. “What are you doing here?”

That’s right - you shouldn’t have come.

“I’m off.”

You direct this at Adam, not even giving Shaw a glance.

The woman seems impatient, rushing him to return. “Shaw, why aren’t you back yet?”

“Forget it, you should continue with what you were doing.”

Despite what you just said, Shaw pulls you into the rehearsal room.

Initially expecting that you’d be catching them in a romantic rendezvous, you’re instead met by a table filled with messy clumps of clay.

You stare at the somewhat cylindrical shaped object on the table.

“...this is?”

Before Shaw speaks, the woman pipes up. “Are you Shaw’s girlfriend? I’m the teacher in charge of Ceramic Art Design in Loveland University, and also the wife of his teacher.”

The female teacher turns to Shaw. “He promised that if I were to teach him pottery, he’d not be late for school, or leave early.”

The truth is out.

Your cheeks redden, and you hastily greet her. Then, you sneak a peek at Shaw.

“Why did you bring her here!? I worked so hard to hide for a week, and now it’s all ruined!” He balls his hands into fists and looks like he’s about to beat Adam into a pulp.

“Calm down. Isn’t it good enough for Sister to know that you’re preparing a gift for her?” Adam chuckles.

Shaw’s eyes flit to yours, then he averts them. “Tch, it’s none of your business!?”

A laugh escapes you. 

He really isn’t cute at all.

--

More translated and original works: here

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[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author