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soulmate-game · 4 years

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New fic *test*

New Bio!dad Bruce story? I’m testing out this first chapter, and if I like where it’s going I might add it to my growing pile of WIPs. If I have inspiration, I might as well use it. Because of life events stressing me the hell out, I’m throwing any writing plans out the window and I’m purely gonna write to destress right now. Whether that means updating THG or not, or continuing Maribat March, we’ll just have to see how this all pans out. Things are subject to day-to-day change.

I got inspiration from this from rereading my day 1 story for Bio!dad Bruce Wayne month from last year. I’m just gonna change a few things.

—*—*—*—*—*

For once, an unfamiliar face attracted the attention of everyone who caught even a glimpse of them. It wasn’t even because of the person themselves at first, but their dress. The skirt like the most fantastical of storybook ball gowns, fluffy layers of satin over a luxurious petticoat, with a stunning pink floral pattern whose busy appearance was tastefully offset by a shorter, sheer layer of leaf green tulle artistically weaved and somehow sculpted over the floral in order to tame it. The effect turned what should be a grandmotherly pattern into something softer, sophisticated and youthful and yet also reminiscent of fairytale princesses. Over top the short layer of green tulle was an even shorter later of white tulle, almost invisible except for the elegant embroidery of crystal-white vines that twined all over it, connecting the green below it to the bottom-most floral pattern and oddly adding a layer of childishness instead of maturity. At the waist of the dress was a dark plum pink satin ribbon, to separate the elaborate ballgown skirt from the bodice. Attached to the simple ribbon was a large brooch of fabric flowers, with a single plastic ladybug in the center.

The bodice of the dress came up into a cheongsam neckline, but was sleeveless. It was a simple design, of half green and half dark pink, with a white border separating the two. The white border had expertly done embroideries in a soft silver thread that would only be visible close up, the images the thread made being that of fairies and ladybugs dancing around one another.

It was, all in all, a stunning display that made the small eurasian woman wearing them look like absolute royalty. Perhaps a long lost fairy princess. Her black-blue hair was even done up in elaborate looping braids and a braided bun, with silver and green pins that further completed the regal ensemble. And yes, while the expertly done dress was what initially captivated her current audience, it was not what kept them from leaving her alone. That was all her personality, bubbly and bright as her blinding smile. It was a sunny disposition that very few people present had any exposure to at all, and it drew them like a sunflower to the daylight. They could not help but flock closer, or even just stand back and keep themselves turned to her presence. Already she had been at the gala for two hours, but there was no issue. She just kept proving her generosity, admitting she had donated both a dress and a suit of her own making to the charity auction that would begin soon, one of the main attractions of the gala. She skillfully charmed the more snooty of the attendants, and artfully twisted her words so that they felt compelled to donate more money that they truly had no use for. Later, they would remember their donation and wonder what compelled it, but come up with no satisfying answer.

And yet she was entirely unaware of her more silent audience, who stood back and observed. Truth be told, every one of them was glad to not be the center of that attention for a change, to have room to breathe for so long at an event where usually that commodity was so scarce that it demanded a fierce competition for. Compared to her garden of color, they were all shadows in shades of blacks and blues and whites, with a touch of red here and there that was entirely too thematic for their home city. The one who sported a royal blue suit tilted his head at the scene they were all calmly witnessing, his bright azure eyes glittering.

“She’s like magic,” he mused, clearly enchanted despite having not said a single word to the woman. “Perfect socialite. She’s kind, generous, she made that dress and the ones she donated to the auction herself so she’s obviously got an intimidating amount of skill for her age. She even tricks those old fuddy-duddies into spending money. It’s like a dream come true!”

“I don't trust it,” the one to his right said, a man just a few inches shorter in a classic black suit with a red dress shirt underneath. He absently swept his bangs away from his face as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “It seems too perfect. She doesn’t have any identifiable character flaw, except maybe being a little clumsy and too energetic. She does babble a little… but nothing that actually suggests any depth besides her just being— good. That’s impossible, and I don’t trust it.”

“Tt. I agree with Drake for once. She seems entirely too comfortable with this setting, despite her blushes and rambles,” the one who spoke this like was taller, clearly a teen in the middle of his growth spurt. He, too, wore a plain black suit but his had subtle charcoal embroidery and he wore an emerald-green dress shirt under it that made his matching eyes gleam dangerously. “It seems almost playacted. Expertly so, but nonetheless not entirely genuine.”

“Wow, not many pick up on that. I’m gonna give your observations a solid eight out of ten. They’re all perfectly sound, but not quite complete,” a new voice made all of the silent group stiffen— somehow they had been snuck up on. The newcomer smirked at them as if having fully expected their reaction but still being pleased at being able to evoke it. This was yet another stunner; far too much color in her outfit to be a Gotham native, and far too much skill in the construction for it to signify anything less than extreme influence. She had bright golden-blond hair that was coiled into a low bun, with her bangs artfully curled and arranged to display her crystal blue eyes.

In contrast to the garden-themed dress of the Eurasian woman who had garnered their attention at first, this newcomer was wearing a pantsuit. It was all in a dark honey-gold, in a stiff fabric with construction that made it lay entirely in perfect, straight lines and hug her form in the right places. Black embroidery decorated the long, flared sleeves and pant legs and dripped around the square neckline like a faux necklace. A cape made out of the same material as the rest of the pantsuit was draped on one shoulder. It started out as the same honey-gold color, but it became a gradient as it faded to a solid black at the ends. Gold thread embroidery decorated the solid black bottom of the cape in delicate, deceptively simplistic swirls. The top half of the pantsuit was clearly inspired by military garb, simultaneously rigidly constructed yet fitted, with circular onyx buttons going down the center of the chest and a thick metal belt, all in swirling silver and black, sat perfectly clasped around her waist. It was far more solid-colored and simplistic compared to the fairytale dress in the center, but no less show stopping and luxurious. It simply showcased an entirely different attitude, almost as if the two women could never get along if their personalities matched their outfits.

“And who are you?” The man who had been the center of the group of shadow-like adults spoke up, back straightening to milk every speck of his generous six-feet-and-three-inches of height. This was none other than Bruce Wayne, the host of this annual charity gala. And normally, his current stance would either intimidate or utterly charm whoever it was directed at— but not this pantsuit-clad blond warrior. Her smirk merely widened, and her blue eyes took on a slight shade of teal as if trying to mimic the dangerous ocean depths.

“I am Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of Andre Bourgeois, the mayor of Paris, and Audrey Bourgeois, the Style Queen. It’s nice to meet you again, Monsieur Wayne,” she introduced herself imperiously. “I also happen to be the best friend of the girl you were just staring at.”

Bruce nodded, but had trouble reconciling this clear powerhouse of a woman with the bratty and entitled preteen he had met years ago, at the last gala she had attended with her mother. “Of course, I didn’t recognize you at first Chloe. You’ve grown a lot since the last Gala I saw you at.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose, clearly not appreciating the reminder. “I was a bitch,” she admitted easily, seemingly not at all bothered by the confession. It caused not only Bruce but also the oldest three of his sons, who had all also met her in the past, to blink in silent shock. “Things have changed. Paris is apparently the perfect chaotic environment right now to promote emotional growth and smack spoiled kids over the head with reality,” she shrugged. Part of the reason her and her whole class had even been able to come to the Gala in the first place was the fact that Bruce wanted to offer the most attacked group of Parisians a respite and some support from their crazy lives. The fact that even Gotham seemed sane in comparison to Paris was a bit of a hard hit for both involved parties, but in the end everyone understood that “more sane” didn’t always equate with “less dangerous.” Considering all that, Chloe had no reason to sugarcoat the situation in her home city. “But it wasn’t easy at all, and Marinette was largely responsible for my improvement too.”

“Marinette?” The heathen who somehow got away with attending a gala in a black leather jacket over a dress shirt and suit pants asked, raising a brow. Chloe nodded.

“The girl you were just goggling at. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the class president and resident workaholic. Does she ever sleep? Nobody knows,” Chloe shrugged.

The blue-suited man, Dick Grayson, shot a suspicious glance at Tim, who was standing to his right, as if he was worried his brother had made a female clone of himself just so he could continue to work hard and never rest. Tim ignored him and sipped from the thermos of coffee he had somehow snuck in.

Bruce cleared his throat to bring the focus back onto himself, and shot his most charming smile at Chloe. “They would have known who she was, if they had read the brief information I gave them about your class. But they never do listen to me,” he complained with good humor. “But back to the original topic, Miss Bourgeois, do you care to correct us on how our observations are lacking?”

Chloe laughed easily, smiling and nodding to indicate Marinette, still stuck in a circle of socialites and not seeming the least bit worn out.

“Of course. First; She is not completely acting. She really is like magic sometimes— disgustingly kind, generous, far too willing to help just about anyone for just about any reason. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, as much as it pains me to admit it. But she is exaggerating her personality a bit and hiding the parts she doesn’t want anyone to see, so there is a little acting involved. Just not as much as you seem to think,” Chloe then waved her arm in a flourish as if she were presenting Marinette to them. “In short; behold Mari Dupain-Cheng, the ridiculously likeable, disgustingly cute, extremely philanthropic mask that she shows everyone at public events like this. You don’t see any of the insomnia, or the anxiety, or the self doubt. Just the parts she wants you to see, accompanied with a smile to blind you to everything else,” her all-too-deep blue eyes settled back on Bruce then, a knowing glint shining in them. “Don’t you think that’s ridiculously similar to Brucie Wayne for you, Monsieur? Utterly, ridiculously, similar?”

Bruce grit his teeth. He hadn’t expected anyone else to know about his exceptionally well hidden secret, not even his kids had caught on or found his buried evidence yet. Yet his heiress comes up, nearly flaunting her knowledge in his face with all too many unspoken questions and criticisms.

And her cryptic words had succeeded in making all of his kids look at him with extreme suspicion. Shit.

“What are you saying, Miss Bourgeois?” he cautiously prodded. She hummed noncommittally before dropping the bomb all too casually;

“I’m saying I’ve seen her adoption papers, and you won’t be able to run from her for long Monsieur Wayne. As soon as she gets an opening, she’s going to pounce,” Chloe’s eyes glittered dangerously again. “And nowadays, Marinette doesn’t ever let people escape her. Your problem with adoption has created a rather unique problem, you know. You’re at fault for a large majority of her self confidence issues, and I want you to know that I am not going to forget or forgive that anytime soon.”

“Bruce,” Jason’s voice was dark and threatening. “What is she talking about?”

“Something we don’t want getting in the tabloids,” Yet another new voice popped up, allowing Chloe to smugly sink back into the background.

Somewhere during their discussion, Marinette had ambushed them.

“Chloe and I are very good at locating all the reporters in a room and distracting them, but we’re not infallible and this event has far too much coverage,” Her smile reeked confidence and charm, but this close all the Waynes could see the doubt hiding in her bluebell eyes. “Since I’m about to turn eighteen, I figured this would be as good a time as any to finally confront you. I want to make it clear that I seek nothing from you, except the occasional contact. I would like to keep in touch, if nothing else. But if you are adverse to that… then at least answer my questions after the gala,” her eyes developed a hint of carefully controlled desperation. “Please.”

Bruce met her eyes evenly, trying to read her. But she was difficult, simultaneously too many emotions to sort through in her demeanor and much too little. After an extremely tense moment of silence, his voice came out barely above a whisper:

“You do not want anybody to know?”

And hell, if she didn’t recognize the hidden vulnerability in his voice as the very same she heard in her own far too often. In a much tamer version of her own rambling, he went on:

“I can keep it silent if that is what you want. But I want you to know that I will not be adverse to you admitting it anywhere. I don’t expect you to change your name, but I would not be ashamed of the truth getting out. I am not ashamed of it, of you.”

Marinette’s smile grew a little watery. She had to clear her throat to keep herself from tearing up. “Maybe eventually, but not yet. I… I want to stay a little more anonymous for now. It’s one thing to be a well known designer with good connections. It’s an entirely different thing to be…”

“A Wayne?” Bruce finished, ignoring the daggers that were being stared into his back. “I understand completely.

“Father,” Damian’s voice was all sharp edges and rapidly suppressed panic. “What. Is going. On?”

Marinette shot him an apologetic smile. “Apparently, eighteen years ago, his prerogative was to put the child he actually knew about up for adoption when the mother died in childbirth,” her voice was once again only barely loud enough for them to hear, since she didn’t want any eavesdroppers. “Imagine my surprise when I find out he completely flipped sides only months later.”

--*--*--*--*--*

Hey, so please share your feedback on this. This is just to test out a possible new bio dad, multichapter fic and this is the opening scene I'm trying out. If you like it, please tell me what you like about it and please suggest titles for the story! I love you guys' feedback so much!

#maribat #bio!dad au #bio!dad bruce wayne #platonic daminette #platonic jasonette #platonic dickinette #platonic timinette #platonic timari #mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribat fic #platonic brucinette #older sister Marinette

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 2-15: 时间针脚 The Patchwork of Time Translation

“Come on then, Miss Direction Blind. I'll be the one to give you the directions now.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

After a week of working at Warson, I’d technically adapted to how things went about here. Zheng Lin had also arranged my first solo gig.

Zheng Lin: The design hub has a mentor system set in place.

Zheng Lin: So, all Assistants and Junior Designers will have a mentor assigned to them.

Zheng Lin: Of course, it is not up to you to choose, but your future mentor.

Zheng Lin: Every Senior Designer, including Director Qi, will participate in this program as a mentor.

MC: Director Qi too?

Zheng Lin: Correct. The selection criteria will be the results of your first independent work.

Zheng Lin: It might be solo work, but you can always approach me if you run into something you don't understand.

Zheng Lin: And also, I'll get Brother Mao to help you out, considering how you've only just arrived here and have yet to familiarize yourself with this place.

Zheng Lin: Of course, his aid doesn't include helping you out with your design.

Zheng Lin: In any case, just make sure to do this job well because the results of this will determine who your future mentor will be. Understand?

I understood what she was getting at. Mentors would greatly influence and affect the growth of a rookie. One will be able to learn much more when paired with an experienced mentor who shares the same aesthetic sense.

Although the deadline is still a long time from now, I want to become the best mentee choice to ever face Sariel.

The job this time was to create a dress for Lin Yao, the new up and coming actress, for her award ceremony.

❖☆———————————★❖

She was a child actress who'd recently risen to fame when the popularity of the young idol teen drama she starred in half a year ago exploded. Due to her cold countenance, she was dubbed by the media as the "Nation's Fairy Nymph"

This time, the local crime movie she'd starred as the lead for had received a double harvest at the word-of-mouth box office. It has also been nominated as one of the most popular movies and the movie with the best female lead among many others.

This movie was about a talented dancing genius who secretly plotted the murder of her abusive stepmother for many, many years. This caused the creation of a second personality within her; the murder happened then. At the end of the film, she danced in the pure white snow beside the dead body of her stepmother. Something that she'd only ever dreamt about. And there, etched upon her face, was the first smile of her life.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Her performance is way too good! I can't even tell that it's an act...

After watching some of her award-winning works interviews, I finally managed to get some semblance of understanding about Lin Yao.

She was someone of few words, a polite and obedient kid who never once had a single bad article to her name. She was forever smiling in front of the cameras. She was hardworking and responsible when it came to her work, and has had a smooth journey ever since her debut. It was the very epitome of what a perfect life was; one that everybody admired.

MC: A traditional fairy dress would be too conservative. Although that'd be very in line with her image, it'll merely be the same thing all over again. That wouldn't make her stand out on the red carpet.

MC: I can't help but feel like she's not all as inwardly peaceful as she appears on the outside. Perhaps she's fiercer or more sensitive deep down...

I didn't know how I could express this mismatch in her persona.

Perhaps it was those eyes of hatred of hers that shot daggers in the movie, or maybe that one sliver of vulnerability that she let slip in her interviews every once in a while. Those factors made it hard for me to decide just what kind of style I should go with her dress.

MC: And I also feel like digging deeper to uncover the other more charming side of her that no one knows...

The genius young maiden of the nation. A turbulent era of change. Self-redemption and self-destruction. All of these factors were only impactful when combined together with the era it was set in. It was only then, that everything felt fated to be.

MC: What if I added these elements to the dress?

I closed my eyes and imagined it in my head. A black feather dress inspired by the nation slowly formed in my mind's eye.

MC: I know!

Brother Mao: Heavens! You gave me a scare right there!

That was when I realized that I'd quite literally leapt out of my seat in my excitement. I gave an embarrassed laugh.

MC: Brother Mao, I'm going to go out and do some fieldwork to get some inspiration!

❖☆———————————★❖

If I were to find things related to the nation, then the museum would be the most appropriate choice.

Back when I was little, I'd always be left in the care of my mother's ex-partner when neither she nor my grandmother had the time to take care of me. He was responsible for managing this museum that could be called my second home of sorts.

MC: But, why does it look different from how I remember…?

The place had been renovated during the long period of time I hadn't been to it. All the exhibition halls had changed locations.

I followed the signs towards the hall where all the local things were displayed, only for my attention to be caught by a familiar figure.

Dressed entirely in black, said person had his arm behind his back as he stood motionless in front of the collections before him.

His straight posture made him look like a tall, yet silent, statue from afar. Under the lights of the spotlight, a faint silvery-white halo surrounded him. I could even see the small particles of dust floating in the air amidst the light. It made him look stand-offish and sharp.

I couldn't stop myself from raising my camera and snapping a shot.

Click!

The man noticed; immediately whipping his head around.

MC: ...Osborn!?

Surprised, I retreated a step; only to realize that my hands were now empty. Osborn had snatched my camera from me.

Osborn: Watcha hiding?

He cocked his head to look at the camera, the corners of his mouth upturning into an arc.

Osborn: You're sneakily taking shots of me? Let's see how they turned out.

MC: Return it back to me first!

Osborn purposely lifted the camera higher out of my reach.

Osborn: Why are you so frantic? It's not like I mind or anything.

MC: I still have things to do! Hurry and give it back already!

Osborn: What did you come here for?

MC: Photos. I came here looking for inspiration.

Osborn nodded, turning and walking away with my camera in hand.

Osborn: Weren't you here for pictures? Come on, let's go.

Does he want to accompany me?

I hurriedly chased after him and held out the guidebook for him to take. However, he'd only waved his hand in dismissal and signalled for me to follow behind him.

He led me around the museum as if he knew the place like the back of his hand. All I had to do was to name the exhibit and he'd be able to find it immediately.

His sense of direction is incredible. What is he? A human-sized GPS?

MC: Do you come here often, Osborn?

Osborn: It's my first time here.

MC: …..

Osborn let out two short laughs as he crooked his head and contemplated me.

Osborn: And how many times have you been here?

MC: I've come here a couple of times in the past, I guess. I'm not very familiar with this place. Ahem...

??: (Y/n)! Is it really you? You've come back to the country?

The curator uncle that I'd not seen in a long time suddenly comes round from a corner. He looked astonished to see me here.

Mr. Curator: You've grown into a splendid young woman in the years I've not seen you. It's great to see you back! Come by my place for dinner when you're free!

Mr. Curator: Oh, yes. Should I get you a guide? I remember that you got lost here once.

MC: No need! My friend here has a superb sense of direction!

My face heated up as I hurriedly pointed to Osborn. He didn't say anything more, only laughing as he nodded to Osborn before leaving.

Brilliant. I originally intended to keep the fact that I was directionally challenged under wraps when around Osborn, but now… He's gonna make fun of me again.

MC: Right, but I'm still pretty good at reading maps…

In the end, Osborn couldn't hold back his laughter and ended up laughing till his shoulders were shaking. He took hold of my arm in one swift motion and started walking forward.

Osborn: Come on then, Miss Direction Blind.

Osborn: I'll be the one to give you the directions now.

Somehow, I vaguely felt my heart skip a beat at that.

MC: I want to go to the national exhibit…

❖☆———————————★❖

The national exhibit had now been renovated and refurbished retro-style. All the new collections exhibited here now turned out to be clothing and accessories.

Looks like I made the right choice in coming here.

Osborn: Want do you wanna snap?

MC: That one. The brown layered cheongsam patterned through burn-out printing.

MC: The blueish-grey female damask lined jacket!

MC: And that short-sleeved georgette velvet cheongsam that's also patterned through burn-out printing!

I'd virtually snapped a picture of every outfit on display here. The tentative image I originally had in mind seemed to become clearer now.

MC: Okay, that's all.

Osborn kept the camera and glanced at the time.

Osborn: Let's go then.

❖☆———————————★❖

Dusk had already fallen by the time we walked out of the museum. The smell of sundown envelopes us in its serenity, as the breeze carries the fragrance of hyacinths.

Osborn walks up to a black motorcycle and leans on its back seat.

MC: Thank you for today. I didn’t cause you any trouble by hogging you and making you take pictures for me, did I?

Osborn: Sure you did.

MC: …Ah. What are you going to do about it?

Osborn: Then, how about you do a little something to repay me? The bracelet I was looking at earlier; have you seen anything like it before?

The image of Osborn staring seriously at the white-coloured jade cong earlier flashed through my mind.

MC: That’s not a bracelet. It’s a jade cong. They’re used as ritual artefacts in ancient witchcraft or religious sacrifices.

MC: The one you saw earlier was a typical one belonging to the Liangzhu Culture. It’s speculated that it’s used to communicate with gods or the souls trapped in this realm.

Osborn: You know quite a lot.

MC: I used to come here a lot as a kid, and I’d just tail the big sister, the guide, back then when I had nothing better to do. That’s why I remember so many things.

Osborn: Hu? You don't look like an expert at all.

MC: I’m still learning, but they do say that the better your memory, the smoother the sail of your learning curve.

Osborn: Let’s see… Wasn’t there an expert earlier who couldn’t even tell left from right?

MC: I was born with a poor sense of direction! I told you that my map reading skills were still passable!

Osborn: Okay, okay. What’s with the glare? I’m only poking fun at you.

Osborn: My sense of direction is brilliant, so just follow me next time.

MC: ……

MC: Right, but that jade cong earlier was a little odd.

Osborn: Man, the way you change topics needs a little working on.

MC: Do you want to listen, or not?

Osborn: Spill.

MC: I’ve never seen a jade cong from the Liangzhu Culture with the double-headed snake motif carved onto it before.

MC: There exists a sacred double-headed snake motif in Sumerian Culture. It represents Ningishzida, the Lord of the Good Woods.

MC: And in the mythology Ningishzida hails from, the gods used clay to create humans and make the beginnings of the first civilization.

MC: Just like the Fuxi Nuwa from our ancient mythology.

MC: Funny thing is that, coincidentally, the Sumernarian two-headed snake is also very similar to the Fuxi Nuwa.

Osborn unknowingly furrows his brow whilst muttering about something under his breath. However, he quickly returns to his usual playful self.

Osborn: Okay. I've got it.

MC: Why are you interested in something like this?

MC: I remember that the bracelet you showed me up on the roof that day had the same motif.

Osborn: Ever heard of this saying?

Osborn made a come hither motion, signalling for me to get closer to him.

Osborn: The more secrets you know, the more you'll be...

He did a cutthroat gesture whilst smirking at me.

MC: Do I look like I care?

Osborn: It has something to do with someone I'm looking for. I'll tell you next time if I get the chance.

MC: Hmm…

Osborn: But, no telling anyone about what happened today.

MC: Okay. Now gimme the camera.

Osborn: I helped you and yet not even a single "thank you" from you?

Osborn leaned further backwards, purposefully dodging my hand that went straight for the camera, a devilish look on his face.

MC: Thank you!

Osborn: Now stick your hand out.

A small lemon candy was placed into my outstretched palm alongside the camera.

Osborn: Where are you headed? I'll send you.

He flipped himself onto his bike, surveying the congested road up ahead.

MC: I can't possibly bother you like that...

I waved my hand and turned his offer down out of habit, yet inwardly, I was silently pondering about just how I was to get onto that tall bike of his.

However, just as I was about to step onto it and swing myself onto the seat, the engine gave a resounding roar as said motorbike speeded away from me.

Only a single line hung in the air in his wake: "Bye!"

MC: Hey! I was just being nice! It wouldn't hurt to have asked me again...

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 2-13) | Next Part: (Chapter 2-18)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #For Light and Night

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worldsover · 4 years

Text

No More Drowning ft. Olivia Hye

length ✦ 7138

genres ✧ drunk hookup; outercourse; roommate!Olivia

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Perspiration deluges your white Taekwondo uniform. You make it fit loose so that it doesn’t stick to your skin. A refreshing breeze now annoys you as it whistles through your damn window that never sealed completely shut. At least you didn't need to turn on a fan today.

“Hey Captain,” you greet the commander of none. Hyejoo lies on a small blue couch, the only pristine spot in the living room. Her outfit suggests that there would be the usual cool air expected of the season but the fall is humid and stuck in the climate of a couple months past. It’s incredible that there is not a bead of sweat formed on her face. You study her and somehow she’s handsome in your eyes which is probably not a word others would use to describe the stunning woman reclining with her feet up.

“Wassup,” she says.

“You gonna-”

“Clean up? Yeah, yeah, lemme finish this round.”

Her face is welded to her screen though her eyes dart around maybe holding a hint of remorse at the clothes that litter the cramped living space and the dishes in the sink.

“I’m not an impostor! Ahhh!” Hyejoo shouts into the screen. Certainly none of her actions follow through on that guilt.

“How'd this even happen? You got pyjamas on the floor, shirts on the chairs. You a camgirl or something?"

"I'm a camgirl? I can see your tits dude.” Cover your pectoral cleavage in faux shame. ”Yo, I swear I just saw green-"

"And all these energy drinks? Come on Hyejoo, no way your heart lasts more than a year.”

“Wow, meanie.”

You look at your watch. “It’s like 9:40.”

“Shit, right, the marketing test.” Hyejoo’s fingers show no pretense that she’ll stop playing. She definitely didn't see your disapproving face. “Oh relax, I still got time,” she says anyway.

Finally, she looks up at you and her brows crease. “What?” you ask.

"You look good today."

Your heart floats just a little. You always appreciate the little compliments she gives. They were just ones that friends, good friends, would say but you’ll take anything to keep you going. Well, it’s enough to get you to clean up for her again.

“It’s gonna be a long shower by the way.” She giggles and you step over empty cans and bottles when you walk to the bathroom.

“No prob, I’m heading out soon,” Hyejoo says.

“Sure you are.”

Her exaggerated yawn seems not so exaggerated by how she stretches her entire being before putting her phone away.

“Oh, soon means now. How long’s it going to take?” you say.

She shrugs her shoulders. “One, two? I dunno.”

In a rush to get all her supplies in her bag, a series of metallic clangs sound out when finished beverages fall over like dominoes.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry about that, I really am. I can buy you lunch if you want something?” Hyejoo starts picking up a few of them to set aside in the corner and you help her.

“Nah, I’ll still be in the shower by then.”

Hyejoo scoffs. “If I'm addicted to caffeine, you're addicted to water. A sandwich sound good?”

“Yeah sure. I got a lot on my mind, Captain.”

“That include me?” A dismissive puff of air exits your lips. No, no way. She walks up to smell your uniform. Your acute awareness of her distance or lack thereof causes you to ignore her pupils' subtle drift downwards.

“You’re a weirdo, you know that?”

"Get to your shower stinky."

You wave Hyejoo off then enter the bathroom. The scurry of little steps and a slam from the front door echo the whole apartment. Never any privacy in here. These sounds give way to the jet engine of your shower with its pressure betraying the bargain rate of your rent. Soap washes away your muscles' ache and the sun’s beating on your skin. It's been unusually warm since the leaves turned brown. Water builds up in the tub.

Something's not adding up. There it is again. That plunging in your heart. Sparring always helps a bit after your early morning manual labor carrying bags of sand. However, it does not stop the resurfacing of your every mistake as there's nothing but your mind in the shower. You don't have a plan and your future is void because money and work hours kill you as much as school. You're not even getting all the wages you earn and there's nothing you can do about it. Past choices bubble up in that unkind way. The cup fills and clear blue liquid engulfs you.

Lift yourself out the tub to catch a breath that you don't deserve. Deliberate respirations do nothing to slow down your heart rate. The only thing that can is a captain. You could wander the ocean on a raft with her alone but you have no idea if she felt even close to the same. Maybe she's just the most important friend you've ever had. Light from the small window hits the tiled floor. Unplug the drain. Right, you left your clothes in your room so wrap yourself with a green towel you find hanging from the doorknob.

Shit! There's not a mouse in sight but you shriek like there is one when Hyejoo materializes in the confined kitchen. Hyejoo expresses no surprise herself as she sits cross legged on the miniature wooden dining table playing yet another mobile game. Laundry baskets and garbage bags hold all the previous mess. Your surprise at her appearance transforms into surprise for her proactiveness. You want to give her thanks but no words escape your lips.

"You gonna put on some clothes? Perv. That’s my towel too."

Your hands push off invisible blame. The hands of the wall clock reads five minutes before noon. "Woah, woah, wait a sec. What happened to the midterm?"

"Walked out in the middle of it. Couldn’t deal. Dropped."

"Wait, what about the refund?"

"Sunk cost dude.” Hyejoo sniffs a wide white shirt hanging from a chair next to her. “This yours or mine? Ehh, it's clean either way."

You catch the shirt and smell it. A little vanilla. It's hers. “Thanks Captain.”

“Even sniffing it? Really a perv.” You almost forget a single piece of fabric separates full exposure of your genitals but the realization makes you blush anyway.

“Nah, you smelled it first and. Whoever smelt it, dealt it.”

“That’s not what that saying means.” Hyejoo gets up from her awkward seat.

Incredible how many new ways she can throw you off like when she bumps into you with her eyes are still on her phone. Hyejoo's clumsiness will be your death as the towel slips down and hangs solely from your half erect dick. Cool, you're just a clothing rack now. She turns you around with one hand and snatches the large shirt with the other. Your bare moon is in full view.

"You gonna put this on or just stand there?" she says with no qualms about the absurd sight of your newly cleansed rear. You scramble to wrap the towel tightly around you to tame your erection but there's no way she hasn't noticed by now.

"Y- yep, I, I will do that, for sure." Turn back around and take the shirt to put it on carefully. It’d be oversized for her but it fits you snug. Your ears must have joined your cheek’s redness because your nipples poke through the thin white fabric.

Hyejoo takes a single glance away from her screen at your makeshift towel skirt and laughs. "Actually, you look cute like that. Just keep the towel on, it's less to clean."

Wide-eyed, you say, "What if ahjumma barges in?"

"What if? Whatever, no fun." She sticks her tongue out then gets comfortable on the couch while her diligent and nimble fingers peck at the screen.

Return to the restroom and deal with your erection before it becomes a problem. You’ve seen hints of her comely body before and it helps you undress her layered attire in your imagination. Instead of the black button-up long sleeve and track pants she wore just moments ago, you picture a crop top, her hair tied up and white panties, and it's that latter image that affixes to your mind. On a particularly balmy day, Hyejoo wore only her underwear because she had nothing else to do but game and it hasn't stopped plaguing your fantasies ever since. Your hands are Hyejoo’s, soft and loving just for a moment.

"You taking another shower in there or what?" Hyejoo shouts, “I’d definitely hear from here!”

Reality smacks you in the face. She had no fear of you, no worry that you’d take advantage of her. Were you even a man? Stop your jerking and get up.

Open the bathroom door absentmindedly and thump. It smacks her head. You don’t even think about why she was standing right next to the door, instead sweeping aside her hair from her face. Red doesn’t come from where you hit her.

Simultaneously, you and Hyejoo say, “You okay?”

“Um, I’m, look-”

Her blush grows but she interrupts your blabbering, “I didn’t hear you respond and thought you, uh, died in there or something.”

Nearly reached la petite mort if that counted but instead you say, “No, I just. Had a lot to consider.”

“Sure.” You’ve never seen her this flustered since it’s enough for her to scurry back to her room. Hopefully things wouldn’t be too awkward.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“I fucking hate you!” Hyejoo yells.

“Oh yeah? Same!” you retort, probably too loud.

Her tone goes down. “Were those the lines?”

“Ehh, as long as we get the gist of the argument down.”

Hyejoo and you stand on the stairway up to your rooftop apartment in your rehearsed spots. She looks a little confused on how to start what she wants to start but you poke at her when you see the landlady walking towards the stairs.

“Chill out!” she yelps.

“Chill out, you’re telling me to chill out?"

"Seriously, oppa," that's about as strained as a human can say a word, "You’re such a slob!”

“Shut up, look at me straight in the eyes and tell me you’re not just as bad,” you say, trying not to laugh but Hyejoo’s punch knocks the wind out of you. Your pain is only half acting. Her sympathetic look does nothing to soothe you.

"Ya!" The elderly woman interrupts and forces you two apart. “That’s enough! I get you’re cousins but even I don’t fight this badly with my family.”

Hyejoo whips her pupils towards you as though to ask the same question you had, if you sold the illusion too hard.

“I get that living with your kin is tough but at the very least, no murders on my property. Not until one of you graduates.” The old lady squints and turns to each of you saying, “Promise me. No hitting. Not in my sight.”

You nod then Hyejoo’s sigh becomes an assenting nod when the landlady smacks her wrist nearly black and blue. Satisfied at her hard work reconciling family matters, she walks back down her stairs to do her usual wandering around the neighborhood. Hyejoo and you take a second to stretch and relax.

“Ha. Do as I say, not as I do,” Hyejoo says as you both sit on the concrete steps.

You caress your tender rib. “Or don't do at all. Ow. You wanna be a Youtuber? They do boxing and gaming, and you'd kill doing both." Hyejoo's laugh is rich and all that it takes for you to forgive her. You exhale. "Hopefully that gets her off our backs for a while.”

“How do you even manage Taekwondo? You’re so fragile and-" Her sentence is interrupted when she looks at your built arms.

"No way they hit as hard as you, Captain." You miss her carnal look when you close your eyes and think about the nickname that you aimlessly threw out one day.

She stands up. Your eyes violently spread open at her “Kya!” Hyejoo’s fighting stance and shouts masquerading kihaps are totally off. As much as Hyejoo could kill you, a Taekwondo fighter since your childhood, she could also be incredibly cute too.

You tsk. "All that power and no technique."

Hyejoo sits back down none the more ashamed and scratches her head. "You think it would’ve been easier if we came clean?”

“Ahjumma could never allow two strangers to live co-ed. No way. I’m still surprised you came up with that so quickly.”

“It just came out so naturally, oppa!” she says in a deriding high pitch. “Yeah right I ever call you that again.”

Ring ring. You answer the call and Hyejoo's quizzical stare turns concerned at your breathlessness from the words that drill into your ear. They slam, they crash and their volume could break your eardrums even though they’re said as calmly as possible. The hole in your raft grows bigger and leaks more so even when you reach the abandoned shore, you're marooned.

"Fuck, fuck, god."

Sprint for the next bus. Pay no heed to the girl chasing you. Dammit, this can't be happening. Every problem gets fucking magnified because you can't have anything good and if you did, never could it last for more than a goddamn millisecond. You embark on the most anxious ride of your life even though you already know exactly what's going to happen. Transfer buses. The skyscrapers hover over you and gloat about how you’ll never enter their doors. Asphalt and glass swelter you when they reflect radiation down the sky. Your skin hurts. You get off the bus and arrive at the headquarters of the construction company. At the front of the building stands your boss.

Slap. "Did you not get the message? Were you under a tunnel?"

You get on your knees and bow. "Sir, I'm sorry."

"No one else is going to hire a goddamn delinquent like you."

"Please. I thought you understood." You nearly prostrate yourself

"I have no idea what you're talking about. There's a lot of assault on your record."

You stop yourself from blurting out that you fucking know. Defending yourself from bullies is assault? He already knew this was bullshit since that's why he hired you in the first place but now he's backtracking like a rat.

"I'll do anything to work here." He shakes his head while you hold back a tear. "Please. Just. Just tell me why?"

"You got greedy."

"Greedy?" You raise your head and then your tone. "Getting paid for the work that I do is greed?"

"You're on your knees and wanna talk back? Get out."

Bang. A closing door. Your head slumps back down and not a single person on the bus would misunderstand your emotions. You take the longest way home, unsure if you even deserve to go back. Any time, you could give up. Ponder your choices. Never going to get a job again. Never going to school. Never will have a chance to learn or a chance to improve. Never going to have money and never will have a place to live. Never going to see Hyejoo again. You have to give up.

One missed phone call from your polar opposite. She can do so much better. The longest way home turns longer when it goes straight to the sea as you decide to live life as a fisherman with your uncles. You were always invited. You wasted your time in the city. There's no stress here.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

There's no happiness either. Weeks passed even though only days passed. That’s life on the water. Everything spins. Fortunately, you manage to keep your stomach in not wanting to inconvenience the bus driver, the only other person in the vehicle.

You look at your watch as you near Hyejoo's home. She must be asleep by now but you carry each foot heavily when you walk up the steps anyway. Apologies, excuses and petitions that you wrote in your head blank away when you open the door when you see a woman asleep on the couch with earbuds on. Her unconscious head bounces to a slow rhythm. Your lungs fail your mouth's movements to form words because of all that creamy skin covered only by a green towel that creates an outline of her captivating curves. Hyejoo's legs beg to be licked and her collarbones direct your gaze to the bulging flesh poking from the top of the towel with her nipples an inch from your sight. Any other day and you’d ravage her on the spot. Stupid brain tells you to leave and stupid you follows.

You're outside when you hear Hyejoo say, "Hey! Motherfucker, where'd you go you son of a bitch?"

She steps out with no regard to her state of dress and you spin around watching for any witness. You notice her hold back when she hits you but her consecutive punches send a message anyway as each strike punctuates her words, "What, makes you think, you can worry me, like that?"

"Woah, you should. You should get back inside your house," your voice breaks and you back away.

"Hold on now, you're really about to go? Like this?" Hyejoo says.

"You. You look busy. I have to go."

"I'm sorry, I was just messing around with you. Come on, you're really telling me-" She notices your tumultuous expression and sighs. “Fuck it, we'll worry about it tomorrow. First of all, come in. With me. Into our home.”

You follow her into her apartment. She quickly returns from her room in a simple white tee and red gym shorts revealing the supple shape of her ass.

“I'm not gonna ask, okay? Tell you what. When you have a problem, the only answer is late night soju, beer and?” she says.

“Chicken, it’s gotta be. Come on, I see the bones right there.” You point to the countertop dishes. “I’m surprised this place isn’t messier."

"I can handle myself, thank you very much. And that. That was leftover, dry, sober chicken. We're going to munch down on that good crispy skin and we're doing it goddamn wasted." You can't help but match her smile, more radiant and genuine than yours.

Hyejoo pulls out all the alcohol from the small fridge while you call for delivery before both of you step outside the home. It’s night but the heat would make you believe the moon disguises the sun with how it shines on the green roof. What a weird fall. Only the trees remind you of the season. A short plastic table as the only furniture easily moved outside means that you’d have to sit close together on the floor, not that you minded.

Her silence confuses you but she becomes her usual self after you both down glasses of mixed beer and soju and especially after she sees the delivery man bringing an absurd amount of plastic bags for two people.

“Let’s. Go!” she shouts sloppily.

The poor worker looks at you so you give him a knowing nod and point to the beer and soju cans strewn about. His thumbs up as he walks away beguiles you. You look at Hyejoo and realize all the cleavage she’s showing with the shirt she chose. It's as revealing as the towel she wore earlier. Did she not put on a bra? Stand up quickly and search for the guy but his motorcycle revs and he’s already out of sight. That fucker probably saw something he shouldn’t have. You’re never gonna order from that chicken spot again. You bite angrily into the spicy crispy wing. Alright, maybe you just won’t order at this hour or whenever that dude works. Hyejoo chows down with drumsticks on each hand and it’s clear she’s responsible for a majority of the finished carcasses. The stains on her shirt would not make her look any less goddamn cute.

“Cheers!” Glasses clink. How many drinks, how many, burp, were you down? She burps too, you burp together. It’s funny. There was a lot of conversation but it slips you.

"I said I wouldn't talk about it, but Doyun and Michael, worried sick. They came here, everything.” Hyejoo garbles her words.

"Just ‘cause I don't show up to the club for a few days?"

"I'm telling you, a lot of people care. For you. I know I do."

It’s been a while since you started your little escape. All the food’s gone. You’re more sober now. You swear. The nighttime is so comfortable that Hyejoo brings out her blanket to lay on, along with a spoon and a watermelon.

"You're gonna have to wash this later," you say.

“Alright fine. Don't. Don’t rest yourself besides a pretty lady.“ Stab. ”On a perfect starry night.” Stab. “And don’t have some of this delicious watermelon."

One more stab at the watermelon she splits it open. Her devilish look suggests she might do the same to your rib cage if you don’t acquiesce. Lie down next to Hyejoo on the flimsy layer of cloth. You share pieces of the fruit and notice water spilling down her mouth. Definitely sober by now. She’s maybe half a meter away.

"Starry's a strong word to use.” You twirl your finger at the scarce lights in the black backdrop. “Lady too with the way you eat-" She playfully covers your mouth and flicks your forehead.

You don't know when your laughter and banter slow down, or when you start inching closer to her. It doesn't matter.

“Fishing is boring. They make it look all dramatic on shows and you’re just waiting. The night sky’s much clearer though.”

“You gotta. When you do something like that, gotta lemme join in at least.”

“You’re really fine on going on a trip with a man, alone, faraway on the sea?”

“If it’s you.”

“I don’t count, not much of a man at all. I just run away from shit and-”

"Shhh,” she shushes you loudly. “You can count on me.” Hyejoo says and you don’t let her voice project into empty space.

“I will.” It sounds a little forced from you.

“You will,“ she sounds so sure of herself, ”you’ll be okay.”

Your head lays in her neck. A finger in a cup, breaking surface tension so a drop escapes past the rim. You have no outdated sentiments on displaying emotion but you held back often pretending your tenacity was as strong as your body. Not this time. Your cup overflows.

Only moonlight refracts on your tears and Hyejoo wipes them away. You have no idea what she’s thinking as she gazes into the few stars visible in the city. Turn on your side and Hyejoo does likewise to face you then puts a couple of fingers in your hair. Cup her face in return and it wears many emotions, such as impishness, meekness at a few times, and an often impenetrable focus, but above all it’s the standard for beauty in how it assumes no blemish. Her triangle mouth is distinct, welcoming, but you hesitate. Her minute sugary fragrance overwhelms the variety of smells in the air. Crickets and distant occasional traffic. Hyejoo’s head tilts forward then places her lips light on yours and your world is silent. Your heart’s pulse slows so it doesn't interrupt.

“Captain,” you exhale out when she finally retreats her mouth. The name sounds ridiculous in this setting. “Ma’am?”

“Whatever sounds right to you,” she yields, though the subdued caresses on the definition of your arms, and less subtle grabs on your black shirt, convey that she’s in charge even if it’s a gentle direction. "Just Hyejoo is fine."

It's like she’s teaching you how to spar for the first time though neither of you are virgins. Hyejoo gives another kiss then turns you recumbent. You could not and would not stop her now especially when she straddles your denim covered thighs. Take off your shirt and her hands rush to aid you.

“But I’d prefer we don’t think at all.” Is she drooling?

“That’s what got me into trouble. Thoughtlessness.” Your eyes somehow wander away from the woman and her sumptuous yet clothed ass grinding on you.

“What do you think of me?

“Huh?” you say and your eyes snap back to her.

The underside of her shorts warm your groin. “I said, what do you think of me?”

“I think, ugh,” her weight striking a sensitivity in your pants makes you moan, “I think, you’re the most beautiful woman I know.”

“What a player. Well, that’s all you need to think.” Hyejoo rocks back and forth. “Fuck, this is going to be good.”

Lay your hands on her hips and Hyejoo takes your right one, lifting herself just enough to let your dick breathe.

“Why do you need that hand?” you say.

“Feel this.” She takes your hand to knead the thin cloth under her mound and you feel just the tiniest hint of moisture build on your palm.

Pull away to take a base whiff of your slippery fingers. It’ll be a new addiction. The smell of alcohol and the most delicious fried chicken in the world couldn’t compare.

"It's been like this around you since the day we met." Hyejoo bends down and etches every word of the confession into your eardrums, her tone even raspier. "This is all for you."

“Really?” You give her a peck and it turns frisky when tongues join the mix and teeth nibble at lips.

“Mhm.” Her lips vibrate on yours. Hyejoo gropes your crotch over your jeans. “I know it's going to be perfect.” She unzips and pulls down your pants to your knees. You take them off your legs completely and she searches for your wallet.

"I just lost my job and you're gonna rob me?" She breaks her serious character with a snicker. You sniffle and your mood lightens, “And how’d you know I had a condom in there?”

“Just had a feeling.” She winks.

Not an implausible cold reading but you can't count out the possibility of her snooping through your personal effects. You don't mind her proclivities this time. Hyejoo traces your every muscle’s curve with her index and middle finger and focuses especially around your pecs.

“I have to concede. I love these muscles of yours. Ever since that first day I met you at the open house. Maybe I’m just a simple woman.”

“Simplicity is sophistication.” Her fingers draw a line down your torso.

"Indeed. But I'm most interested in this hunk of meat right," she frees your cock from its confines, "Here." Hyejoo licks her lips.

“How is it?”

You’re already hard but Hyejoo's hands deftly work your shaft stiffer. “It’s so thick and this vein right here. It’ll hit just right.”

"Fuck, Hyejoo," you utter when she spits a little on your cock before she unrolls the condom on your erection. Hyejoo slips aside her shorts.

You don't get a view of her pussy with how she sprawls herself on top of you, but the slickness of her lips and the warmth that she emanates from between her legs immerses your senses enough. The missionary with her on top lets her control by the way she guides your cock and presses down on you.

“Oh god, I was right, fuuck,” Hyejoo proclaims when she sinks herself carefully into you and, on the next bounce, smacks her butt right into your waist. Her snugness clenches and quakes on your cock. Willowy arms share a similar hold of your body when she embraces you. You need her as badly as she needs you. You take heavy breaths, especially through your nose. Even her sweat is so alluring. The velvet texture that surrounds you keeps taut on your dick no matter how forcefully she rides herself on top of you. Squelches and quiet moans to a higher power pepper the warm night air.

Hyejoo removes her shirt and slings it away before bowing back down to lick your ears "God, your tits are perfect," you say even though your hands squeeze her buttcheeks in time to her thrusts. Her perky breasts recoil back and forth as they rub your chest while hard nipples juxtapose their softness.

No chance someone would come up to this little rooftop at this hour or have a good view though your cheeks flush at the thought. What if you had extra chicken coming? Or what if the landlady decided to check in on you two late at night? What if-

Hyejoo nudges her forehead against yours. She knows your habits. Your worried face is too familiar for her not to react so she nuzzles your neck and surrounds you with kisses.

Her husky voice vibrates your whole face. "Just focus on me." She makes out with you before her tongue dips into every crevice of your face the same way your cock does in her pink pussy.

Your dick slips out for a second and you take the time to admire her beauty and your fortune.

“Telling me not to drown and you’re going to inundate me,” you say in between her smooches, "With all these kisses."

“Well. Mwah.” Another peck. "You're so delectable.”

“So I’m just chicken to you then.” This deep kiss is probably to shut you up. You’re fine with that.

Regret on her mouth that she pulls away from you. One of you rips off her shorts, the last piece of clothing obstructing you two from total symmetry. Who cares who sees. You’re both fully naked with not a woe for the surrounding world. Delicate hands splayed across your upper body grasp tightly and again, your pecs get particular attention while she fondles your nipples.

She adjusts her back straight up and now she’s on her knees seated on your erection. The cowgirl stance allows her to find a new cusp of your cock head inside her. Hyejoo gyrates on you and you notice the understated lubrication of her pussy begins to overpower everything else in existence. Her musk vaguely reminds you of the ocean while its pheromones have you just as wobbly. It’s enough that, even though you're on your back, you have to hold her waist to avoid keeling over. Nails dig into your chest.

“God, yes, you, your cock, everything, just fuck into me.”

Hyejoo relaxes her body weight and relinquishes the rhythm to you. Pick up a new wind in your sails when you hear her gasp as you pinch her nipples. The momentum has you use all your stamina as though your rigorous fitness had one culminating purpose. You would make Hyejoo cum with only your cock. Rotate and circle your pelvis in pursuit of her most tender spot and an uncharacteristic high pitched wail confirms the location of the treasure. It’s difficult holding yourself up to reach the sensitive wall but she realizes your shared interest.

“That’s, that’s the spot. When I touch myself and think of you, it’s right there, fuck, it’s right there.” There’s no speed or power in your movement, only deliberate jabs and graceful nudges at the softest flesh. Sure it’s work, but damn did you get paid for it since she somehow sops even more between her thighs. Truly the reciprocating delight of friction and silkiness on your dick’s tip is worth it. Your name mixes profanities and wet slapping noises as Hyejoo bucks her hips in climax. Prized juices cascade all over your lap. Her highest vocalizations pierce your ears and her pussy tries its best to milk you but Hyejoo keeps as still as she can to hold your cock’s ideal positioning. Smear the fluids that coat her thighs slick with your hands and lick at your fingers, thirsty like you’re stranded.

Those thighs, by smothering your cock and removing your condom, soothe the pangs of when you pull out. Hyejoo is still in her cowgirl position reeling from her climax and her contorted face is yet more polished than any art you’ve consumed.

Seize the opportunity. Bend your dick forward. The topside of your shaft now rubs on her well-formed ass cheeks, moisturized by the wetness on your cock. Its cradle is different from her pussy's with perfect round cushions in her buns and a tight asshole that greets and tempts your shaft every time you thrust. It’s a siren call you’d have to answer another day. Fucking her bare buttcheeks satisfies you plenty enough.

She lifts up to let your erection return to its idle upward stance and you fuck her thighs in response. Her labia gnaws away at the bottom of your shaft and it begs you to shove it back in especially with how its liquor intoxicates your dick. You don’t forfeit, already overwhelmed by the thickness of her legs and her saliva dribbling from her mouth to help her juices. Hyejoo squirms as you repeat fucking her ass cheeks and fucking her thighs, and it makes the both of you feel heady. Alcohol and lack of sleep would probably do that too.

“Please. Hyejoo,” you implore, flexing your cock to scrape by her pussy lips.

“You want to?” She teases your bare tip but even just the spread of her satin pink on your head makes you shoot just a little. “I. I dunno.”

“Can we?”

“No.” You regret your loud sigh and feel selfish since you already had more satisfaction than one man could ever experience in his life. ”No, not no. No, as in no thinking.”

Plunge back into her wetness. Your cycle in and out continues with you eager to make her climax a second time. Maybe it’s the third time? The only thing you can recall is that this round, you can feel every corner of her pussy on your shaft tensing and relaxing without the latex protection. All of everything is a blur. Hyejoo could be clutching and ogling your muscles. She might be kissing your neck or maybe she’s bobbing up and down to show off her tits and her tummy. God, that midriff would look perfect coated in your cum. You could live forever with Hyejoo mounted on your cock and riding. A ringtone interrupts forever once again. It’s from that number. What was that number? Fuck it, no thinking. Her bouncing tits hypnotize you away from substantiality.

She snaps her fingers. “Hey! Hey. This is, fuck that feels so good, god your cock is just right. Ah fuck, I really think you should answer that.” You take an eternity to slow your boat. Hyejoo points to your phone on the table next to you. Work. She’s right. Both of you take a second to stabilize your breathing. Try to push her off but she refuses, shifting her mass onto your lap and keeping her pussy’s hold tight and warm on you.

“Really?” You groan, “You’re the one who told me to answer it.”

“It’s so late and they haven’t stopped calling.” She rests her head on your chest and yawns. “Your cock is sooo big in me. Don’t even need to move.”

Channel your practice silently jerking off to keep your cool though years of doing that couldn’t prepare you for this. Your hands certainly tried but never could imitate her pussy’s plush tightness. Really wish you didn’t have to but finally, you answer your phone after minutes of ringing. The voice on the other side mumbles a greeting. Didn’t expect to hear him. “Joonho. Why the fuck are you calling now?”

“It’s me! Joonho.”

“Yeah, I know. The hell you calling for?”

“Now that’s no way to speak to your boss, is it?”

“Huh?”

“I said that’s no way to speak.”

“I got that!”

“Hyung. That asshole, management fired him.”

“You telling me-”

“Yeah, they caught him stealing.”

“How the fuck?”

“Dude got too big for his britches and aimed up with his theft too. Mr. Son really didn’t like that shit.”

You cheer in your head. It wakes up the girl resting on you. Guess that wasn’t in your head. “Fuck man.”

"I know right. Fuck him!" You're not on speaker but Hyejoo must’ve heard him say that. You massage your ringing ear.

“Ow. But thank you. Seriously, it’s so late. You could’ve called me tomorrow.”

“I’m drunk as shit man. Sounds like you are too.” You don’t even realize how much you’re slurring your words. “Should I pull up, maybe we drink a little more?”

Stare at the woman still holding your cock in place, fluttering her lashes at you. Hyejoo mouths if you’re gonna take much longer. “I. I don’t think I will. We’ll have to meet up some other time, okay?”

Understanding that you’re winding down your call, she gets back upright and starts bouncing again. “You gonna pass out or something?” Joonho says.

“Something like that” Hyejoo teasingly drops her waist into you and waits, then lifts herself. You purse your lips. “Listen, ah.” And again. Purposeful slams into your cock too loud not to be picked up by a phone. “God. I gotta go, I’ll text you again tomorrow aight goodbye,” you rush your words.

She holds her hair up in pleasure and her profane cries let everyone living below know that you’re fucking the most gorgeous girl with more energy than you’ve ever had. For all the pressure on your sensitive nerves, it’s that image of Hyejoo satisfying her need with your cock that brings you closer.

“I’m almost there! Fuck, fuck.” You pull out and despite her drowsiness, Hyejoo diligently takes your dick with both hands, scoots back and bends down, slobbering on it with her mouth while her fingers stroke the skin of your shaft.

Hyejoo’s lips pop when she releases your cock’s tip. “Where do you wanna-”

“Those fucking perfect abs,” you shudder.

She takes advantage of your previous thrusts’ zeal on her thighs and repositions herself in cowgirl one last time to bend back and choke your cock with her toned legs. One single motion is all it takes. A tsunami and a storm clash. Didn’t remind her that you hadn’t cum at all away at sea as you explode. You call out, “Hyejoo, god, yes, fuck, Hyejoo, yes,” at every wave of pleasure. Shove desperately and Hyejoo’s eyes grow big at how much semen streams out of your slit because the volume of cum nearly rivals the fluid she ejected from her wetness. Her inner thighs, her lap and her stomach all soak in stickiness. She holds onto your arms as she finds enjoyment not only from your cock’s throbbing on her clit, but at your biceps and other curves. An inquisitive pinky takes a sample of your cum to lick up then, to your surprise, she collects all the cum she can with both hands and swallows it down.

“Ahh,” she presents her tongue to you.

Finally, you sit up and no amount of exhaustion would stop you from nibbling her neck as thanks.

“Relax, you hungry beast. You just came all over me and now you’re trying to tell the world we just fucked.” She gives you a little suck on your lips instead.

“I don’t mind.” You clash at her mouth and your teeth click. She smiles and gives you a deep but final smooch. Both of you breathe stiltedly and take time to readjust into the world once again.

“Me neither, if I didn’t have a presentation tomorrow.”

You fall back and feel everything aching in a good way. “Ah shit, school.”

“What did I tell you earlier?”

“Hmm?”

Hyejoo falls flat next to you and clasps her hands into yours. “You will be okay. I called them with an excuse. Speaking of which. You’re gonna find out sooner or later that a certain cool as fuck girl blew the whistle on that son of a bitch.”

This whole thing feels like it should be temporary, like a one-time thing. Any more and it’d be weird, yet her confidence makes you reroute all that anxious energy in your heart’s pace into something good. It’s not love but, “Thanks. I just. Thank you.”

“You are always welcome.” Her lips curl up.

“So. You a snitch now, huh?"

"Relax,” she hisses the end of the word. ”Maybe I snooped through the construction company records, maybe I didn’t. You didn’t hear from me, ‘kay?" She nudges your side with her elbow.

“Hey!” You laugh a little, ticklish in that spot. “Okay, okay. How’d you manage that anyway?”

“Joonho didn’t mention it? Well, I have my connections,” Hyejoo says.

You breathe out and you deserve it. “You really are the Captain.”

“Damn right. Guess you’re stuck on this boat a little.” Yawn. “Longer.” Her eyelids slowly descend.

Watch Hyejoo fall asleep and realize she’s nude and still a little sticky. You decide to make a smart decision just once by putting away all the garbage in your apartment. She giggles reflexively when you clean her up and you struggle but manage to put on her previous outfit.

After you get dressed yourself, you lie next to Hyejoo and watch the few lights in the sky all distanced from each other. You feel a little reticent but the old lady shouldn’t fret if the outdoors is a better bedroom for one night. Close your eyes. Drift away into the best sleep you’ve ever had even if it’s only you and a blanket separate the hard concrete rooftop from the atmosphere. Dreams of water are gracious for once. The ocean lacks bounds and you smile for it. Who cares about tomorrow? It’s made of sticks and rope fashioned from whatever bamboo you could find but the raft holds two. That’s all you need.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

"A college roommate scenario where the male reader is living with LOONA's Olivia Hye and she's attracted to him sexually since he moved in due to his physique. Then one day, he got home all stressed and the two hooked up eventually." - @optimisticwritersworld

AFF, AO3

Pretty sure this was supposed to be all casual but then I started adding to explain the co-ed living scenario and the stress, so here we are. Watch out for more LOONA though no promises on timelines

#kpop smut #loona smut #request #male reader #reader insert #title tracks

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thegirlfromoverthepond · 4 years

Text

Jingle Bells

Hello !

Here’s a little piece I wrote for @talesofpanem‘s Everlark Holiday Bingo...

I think I tick D2 (thank you @xerxia31) ... Plus, can you spot the sentence that was a challenge to put in the story ? (Evil grin)

Oh, and this fic is totally based on this K-mart ad. Just saying.

I want to thank @hutchhitched and @xerxia31 for the organization. Might I had this story wouldn’t be there without @xerxia31‘s stellar betaing skills. Enough talking ....

JINGLE BELLS

“I can’t even believe they’re doing this. I mean… I can believe Finn is doing it, but Darius? Gale? PEETA? I mean, into what universe have we fallen?”

I chuckle at Madge’s words. Because I truly have no idea why my best friend, my friends and my secret boyfriend will be the next ones on stage, jingling bells to raise money for the food bank.

They could have picked anything. Last year, Peeta was Santa, taking pictures with the kids, and Annie and I were his devoted little helpers. That’s when I discovered there was much more to Peeta than met the eyes. He wasn’t only the perfect American poster boy, he had layers that I didn’t expect, and damn was he an awesome kisser. And lover.

That’s also the year Gale finally decided to ask Madge out, the rest is now history. They are talking about moving together, seeing as she spends almost every night at his place, instead of in her bedroom in the apartment we share.

Which is totally okay by me, since Peeta can come over quite often too.

“Did I miss anything?” Annie, Finnick’s girlfriend has finally arrived. She works on the other side of Panem, and was afraid to be late for the show.

“Well, apart from Glimmer trying to prove she can sing, no.”

“Again?”

I nod at Annie’s words. We all know, well, the whole world knows Glimmer can’t sing to save her own life. She’s the only one totally oblivious to it. So, every single year, she graces us with the worst ever rendition of “All I want for Christmas”.

“Did Jo perform?” Annie asks, taking her phone from her jeans pocket.

I laugh at her question.

“Effie forbade Jo to perform.”

“Why?”

I turn to look at Annie, startled she doesn’t know. Madge is the first to talk, barely hiding her smile.

“You weren’t there last year?” Madge asks. That’s when I remember Annie was sick with Covid for last year’s Christmas Charity Concert. “Let’s say Jo did quite an unbelievable number, finishing completely nude.”

“Oh my God, no wonder Effie didn’t want her back.” Annie laughs, before looking at her phone. “Why is Finn sending me a picture of boxer briefs?”

I look at Madge, who seems unaware of what’s happening with the boys. We both look at the picture Annie shows us, and indeed, it’s a pair of blue boxer briefs, with Christmas ornaments on it. A sleigh, Santa, tinsel, every Christmas cliché seems to be there.

“Seems like Finn wants to play Santa to Mrs Claus tonight” Madge replies, amused, as her own phone beeps too. She quickly looks at it, before turning her phone to us.

On the screen there’s a pair of red boxers, also adorned with Christmas ornaments.

“Must be a joke of theirs,” I shrug, as I feel my own phone vibrate. Thank god I put it on silent. ”Or it’s a message for you to really go buy some Mrs Claus outfits!”

“Didn’t Gale tell you? He’s your cousin!” Madge looks at me as if I had a clue of what’s going on.

“You think I talk to Gale about his choice of boxer briefs? I have no idea what’s going on, Madge!”

“Sorry, I just thought they were pranking us or something.”

“Well, they must be pranking us,” I agree, as my phone vibrates again. I take it out of my pocket as Madge turns towards Annie, the both of them staring at the pictures they received minutes ago. I smile when I see Peeta has sent me two texts.

Two pictures of a green pair of boxer briefs, adorned with christmas ornaments too.

What the hell are they doing? I ask myself, as I look at the pictures.

“That’s the question, right? You got one too? Who sent it to you?” Madge can be a phenomenal investigator when she puts her mind to it.

I am literally saved by the bell. A concert of bells. When the curtain opens we see five men, waving the bells they are holding in their hands, in a concert of ho-ho-hos.

Of course Finnick is in the center, winking at Annie as soon as he sees her. Those two are so sweet it hurts my teeth. Gale and Peeta are at his side, adjusting their tux jackets while talking with their respective neighbours, Darius and Thresh.

Needless to say, five handsome men in tuxedos on a stage radiating confidence provokes quite an uproar from the crowd of women around me.

They start to whistle and shout as soon as Finnick starts paying attention to them.

“Are we ready, ladies?” Finnick says. That’s when I realize they all have mics. I sincerely hope they won’t sing because one thing is for sure: he’s my boyfriend and I might-kinda be in love with him, but Peeta can’t carry a tune.

The crowd echoes with shouts. I always wonder how he can turn women on like that. I mean, of course, he’s handsome, all lean muscles and bronze hair, green eyes shining, but he’s … too much for me. I do prefer my own stocky built man, with his luminous blue eyes and his mop of curly blonde hair. He’s so cute when he’s smiling.

“It’s starting!” Madge pulls me out of my thoughts of Peeta’s cuteness to bring me back to the view of my boyfriend in a tuxedo with bells in his hands.

Winking.At.Me.

The bastard.

We both agreed to go slow with this relationship as we both don’t have stellar history in that field.

“Who is Peeta winking at?” Of course, Madge notices. Remember what I told you about her being a star investigator?

“No clue.” I shrug, as I try not to falter under her staring eyes. She’s perceptive, and I think she guessed that something is going on.

I look back at the stage when I hear the bells jingling.

It’s surprisingly short. They just bell “sleep in heavenly peace”, then put the bells down.

I am not alone wondering what’s going on when the table in front of the men moves away revealing … oh my …

The five men on the stage are wearing tuxedo jackets… but not pants. The five of them are adorned in boxer briefs of different shades, all Christmas-y themed. Red, blue, green, grey and yellow.

I guess that explains the pictures we received, right? I can’t help but look at Peeta’s legs, covered in blonde hair, muscular from years of wrestling and lifting heavy bags of flour at his parents’ bakery. I know exactly where the scar from his torn ACL is. Know exactly which place to touch to elicit moaning.

I’m not willing to share him with the horde of women now shouting.

I’m about to walk up and show them he’s mine when the boys line up again. Finnick calls the room to attention.

“Ladies ,we would like to introduce you to a totally new, never seen before rendition of Jingle Bells.” He turns towards someone, nods once, and the lights dim. The boys stretch out their hands, before linking them behind their heads.

Peeta’s tuxedo jacket rises a little. I recognize the trail of hair on his stomach, the hair I play with when we lay together in bed.

I am so focused on his stomach that I would have missed their choreography if it hadn’t been centered on their hips.

It starts with Finnick, of course. He’s always the first when there are crazy things to do. He starts thrusting his groin along with the sound of the bells.

One after the other the guys start to jingle their bells on the stage. Along to the music.

“Can you believe this?” Madge asks as they take their bows, large grins on their faces.

“Alas, I can, as I’ve seen it. I am very frightened for next year, they might call Johanna back,” I say, as I feel my phone vibrate again.

“I’m going to ask Gale for a private performance tonight!”

“Oh, I’m definitely doing the same with Finnick!” Annie says, as she looks at the crowd of women surrounding the guys.

“TMI, TMI!” Why do they feel the need to share such private information with me ? “You’re not going in for a rescue?” I ask as I watch hints of red bloom on Madge’s cheeks.

“Yeah, you’re right, I should. Won’t you go help Peeta?”

“Why would I go help Peeta?” I hastily reply.

Madge shrugs. “Isn’t it what you two usually do? Protect each other?”

I sigh, before taking my phone out of my pocket and typing a quick message to Peeta.

“Here. Are you happy, Margaret?”

She quickly reads the text and shows it to Annie, before giving me my phone back.

“Katniss, you’re going to need to improve your sexting skills. I doubt ‘ Do I need to send in the SWAT team?’ is considered flirting, you know?”

I take back my phone and send it before smiling at my friends.

“Who said I needed help? Your men, on the other end…” I point out the group of women still in front of the stage, and happily see my two friends walking towards their men.

My phone buzzes in my hand. I smile as I read Peeta’s text.

No need to. But be ready to jingle my bells tonight.

I already am.

_____________________________________

That’s it ! Let me know what you think and Merry 2020 Christmas! May the odds be in your favor !

#everlark holiday bingo #tales of panem #everlark #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

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astrovian · 4 years

Text

ranking daniel miller outfits because apparently I have nothing better to do right now

an extremely long one y’all, so it’s under the cut

started at the bottom, now we’re.... still here at the bottom of the list

the running outfit. y’know. that one

look, I know it’s the middle of winter in Berlin and Daniel’s doing his best, but there is something about this that is just not that great. still looks 100x better than my running outfit but I think it’s the beanie that really gives this last place. or is it the double beanie? either way, not an outfit I would wear to try and romance my girl in (even if you are exercising with them). the only real redeeming feature of the outfit is the black turtleneck all zipped up

1.8/10

the sneaky sneaky boy outfit

the perfect outfit for the job because it’s completely unremarkable. the ‘hood over cap’ combo makes me expect to see a 20 year old hacker skulking about under there, but wait - surprise... it’s a handsome middle-aged man?

RA can rock a cap or hood but the double-combo just doesn’t do it for me. I guess I can be happy the third hood isn’t up as well to form a trifecta?

Daniel may need to be sneaky to do his job but I would argue that if I saw a man with a hood over his cap in broad daylight chilling in a cemetery I would have more questions than if I just saw a regularly dressed man chilling in a cemetery in broad daylight

3/10

almost every s1 suit

look, RA looks fantastic in a suit and no one is disputing that. I’m just saying that this is about as bland a suit and tie combo as it gets and from my recall of season one we see this almost every single time he’s in the station.

this one is even a bland grey. grey has it’s place but in the office it can turn into a bit of a snooze. mix up your office-wear & make it fun Daniel. wear a cool-coloured tie. put some funny socks on.

4/10

the casual summer businessman

something bothers me about this. is it the combo of the untucked shirt and the khaki pants? on their own either is fine

or is it just that this is one of the first times we see Daniel and the look has almost no personality to it? who knows

4.1/10 (for the unbuttoned collar and rolled-up sleeves)

the casual summer businessman goes to a bbq

almost the exact same outfit as the casual summer businessman, but the shirt’s a different colour which somehow makes it a lot better

this man wouldn’t look out of place at a bbq, which is a great choice from the styling team considering Daniel actually wears this to the team bbq in the show

4.5/10 solely for just being a bit plain and boring

I’ve finished filing those papers you wanted

no tie and one undone button? Daniel, you tease!

4.6/10

sneaky sneaky boy part 2

this is what I’m talking about. I still find people wearing caps indoors incredibly suspicious for someone trying to blend in (possibly because I was raised to believe that hats were an outdoors only look) but Daniel looks like a grown man and no longer looks like he should be a 20 year old hacker. success!

4.6/10 for an ultra-casual Daniel

I’m just here to file some papers and get paid

see? same suit every time. at least this one’s a nice black which is an upgrade from the grey and really suits RA

4.7/10

every day is a work day if you try hard enough - the winter edition

a non-matchy-matchy blue tie! a winter coat! a turned up collar! it may not be exciting but at least now we’re cooking

in all fairness though, our coat is quite dull and anonymous and the only real notable thing about it is the choice to keep the collar upturned. nothing to write home about if it wasn’t for the RA attached to it

4.7/10

every day is a work day if you try hard enough - the winter edition pt. 2

the hooded coat makes for a nice relaxation of the business suit. other than that, not much to say.

4.73/10

once more unto the (lapel) breach

we find ourselves having to ask: is Daniel Miller really Daniel Miller if his coat lapel isn’t popped?

this the FBI man who turns up at your house to either arrest you or escort you to safety. oh, sorry, CIA I guess given the context of the show

looks great because of RA being the one wearing it but a fairly mundane look

4.8/10

up, up, and away

bicycle Daniel was a nice look which I wasn’t expecting out of this show. mainly because I have never ever in my life seen a man in a suit on a bike.

in NZ they all use cars and at the very least bike in casual clothes then get changed at work. is biking in suits a European thing?

there’s absolutely nothing special or spectacular about the clothes, but put Daniel on a bike and it works really well?

maybe it’s the cape effect or leather gloves. or even just the notion of seeing a fully-dressed business man in a suit whiz by you on a bicycle.

whatever it is, it’s appreciated

4.8/10

the party boy

in s1 Daniel has only one look if he’s going out on the town - he ditches the tie & opens two buttons (or three if he’s feeling saucy)

I’ll never complain about this this look because let’s be honest, who would, but we also need to face reality that, like his suits, it’s also a bit repetitive and lacks a bit of something after seeing it for the 5th episode in row

4.9 /10

it might be time for you to go to bed

the party boy has finally lost his ‘I’m too cool for you’ vibe and partied his jacket and several shirt buttons off (quite literally). bonus points for the completely rumpled shirt and hair

the only thing that is eye-catching in this outfit is the skin it reveals

4/10

puzzle time *finger guns* (to anyone who didn’t grow up in New Zealand quoting this ad I apologise)

now this is a Daniel I would sit down and do a puzzle with. which is probably a good thing as he is quite literally solving a puzzle in this scene

5/10 for evoking the correct feeling from the audience but otherwise there is nothing special here

is mission impossible hiring?

the gloves? the backpack? the jacket and zipped sweater? you see this man and know your mainframe is about to be hacked

not the worst. but not the best. love the zipped sweater, could lose the gloves.

5.5/10

let’s get cozy

now this is a dapper fellow. the thin black scarf? brilliant with the signature coat collar

a Daniel who would probably lend you his coat or scarf if you complained about the cold

5.6/10

someone who would feed the ducks at the park

this is how to put in RA in a baseball cap. the subtle tartan of his scarf, which is tied in a knot? the perfect winter spy outfit

this is a Daniel you want to go on walks in a park with.

5.8/10

uncle Daniel goes on a trip to the mall

the more I look at that jacket the more I appreciate it. It’s a stunning blue which makes a nice contrast to the usual dull grey of his sweater and is a colour that looks great on RA. It even has some quilting for added interest

5.96/10

he’s the ‘fun uncle’

the warm sweater and scarf? this is the uncle who takes you out to do fun things while you’re supposed to be grounded and tells you not to tell your mom

nothing amazing in this outfit but also nothing to complain about considering it’s in s1. a funner, casual side to Daniel we don’t often see (am I bitter about never seeing his cousin and her son after s1? a little)

a solid 6/10

hope is fragile and also a black sweater

the fact that we never see this sweater on its own is what lets it down here

putting that to one side, the snuggly sweater? the green bomber jacket? this is a classic s2 Daniel look. but hang on - this is from s1?

Daniel’s letting us know via this s1 outfit that it will all be good in the near future if we can just hang on until he gets his s2 wardrobe

6.1/10 for providing hope for the future

hello? it’s your future ex-boyfriend calling

this man isn’t Daniel Miller - he’s a career model who can GET IT and he knows it

6.6/10

comfy sweater boy

so simple but so, so, so good

this is a Daniel I would want to cuddle up on a couch with. he’s a soft boy who wouldn’t hurt anyone and probably makes a great hot chocolate

6.7/10

comfy sweater boy goes for a walk outside

the colour of his sweater goes nicely with the coat. and once again: is he really Daniel Miller if his collar isn’t popped?

he loses 0.1 of a point for losing a bit of the soft boy look that the sweater just by itself brought to the party

6/10

comfy sweater boy ran out of hot chocolate at his so comes round to your place for takeaway

I just really enjoy the colour of this sweater, okay? the easy, layered sweater look? the takeaway chinese? this is a man after my heart and I’m also pretty sure I’ve worn this exact outfit before

6.1/10

if looks could kill

leather jacket? perfect. but what really brings this together? the black v-neck of course. RA never wears enough v-necks

‘nuf said

6.9/10

the Adam Price moment

this is one of the rarest of cases - a s2 outfit that wasn’t a 100% hit for me. everything about this outfit slaps except for the polo shirt

blue bomber jacket? hell yeah. hidden orange detailing on the inside? that’s what I’m talking about. colour combo of shirt and jacket? well done

polo shirt itself? meh. even if it was just a plain polo that would have been great. for some reason the embroidered logo and collar stripes push me over the edge

I don’t know why but whenever I see a man in a polo shirt like this, I immediately think they are heading to the golf course and are probably not the type of person I would chill with (given that I don’t play golf)

on Adam Price? sure. on Daniel Miller? nah, he knows better

7/10 (mainly for the bomber)

guess who’s back? back again. Adam’s back. tell a friend

I know this is lower ranked than most of the outfits on this entire list but is still found at the upper end of this list. That’s ‘cause it just had to come after the Adam Price moment, okay?

they took everything that was wrong with the Adam Price moment (e.g. the entire polo shirt) and then focused our attention on it

it doesn’t matter how tightly it clings to RA’s body, it’s not overriding my unjustified hatred of polo shirts

3.5/10

I’m here to make important calls while I dine in a fine restaurant

another updated suit look post-s1. I picture this Daniel eating at a nice Italian restaurant for lunch before returning to work for an important business conference

and is that a textured shirt I spy? well done

7.3/10

the shirt is even better without the jacket.

the undone buttons? c’mon

it’s just a nice shirt okay

7.5/10

comfy sweater boy’s older brother

for one thing, those low-slung sweatpants are a blessing and didn’t get enough screen time.

then on top of that the oversized shirt that drapes in just the right and most comfy way? the bare feet? I would call in sick to work if I saw Daniel wearing this outfit in my house

this is a Daniel who has lost comfy sweater boy’s innocence but who I would still wanna cook food and binge netflix with

this is absolute peak comfy Daniel

a well-deserved 7.8/10

the ‘I can’t believe I wasted so much time with the same suit and coat combo over and over in s1′ Daniel

this Daniel is the sum of everything that is wrong with s1 Daniel and everything that is right about s2 & s3 Daniel

the casual suit jacket. the rolled up sleeves. the loose casual shirt. this is a Daniel who works hard but knows how to have a good time and will 100% seduce you in a foreign city

8.5/10

come to the dark side

the same as the ‘I can’t believe I wasted so much time with the same suit and coat combo over and over in s1′ Daniel but with his classic coat and popped collar for some added mystery to the character

like the ‘I can’t believe I wasted so much time with the same suit and coat combo over and over in s1′ Daniel this man will 100% seduce you in a foreign city but also will not hesitate to use his superior strength to pin you against a wall while he makes out with you

8.59/10

I mean...

I’m not sure you can class underwear as an ‘outfit’ as such, but uh.... sorry, what was I saying? I got a little distracted

I refuse to put a numerical rank on this/10

don’t tell your dad about this one

I know we’ve established that underwear is not really an outfit, but these are pants so I’m gonna say this one counts.

the undone belt? the obvious shirtlessness? hanging with this man will definitely end with someone in jail (and it won’t be him). but at least it’ll be a fun ride on the way down to hell

i refuse to assign numerical value to the semi-naked ones because that’s not fair on the other outfits/10

is he here to fix a car, murder someone or sweep me off my feet? who knows and honestly who cares when he looks like that?

the khaki jacket brings in some ruggedness which tip-top Daniel below is missing while still keeping it effortlessly cool.

this is Daniel. fucking. Miller and he doesn’t care what you think

99.99/10

tip-top Daniel

this is Daniel right at his peak.

everything - the casual bomber from the Adam Price moment earlier, the plaid shirt, the undone buttons, the aviators. the HAIR.

Damn, Daniel. Damn.

100/10

#i 100% expect everyone here to disagree with me #richard armitage #daniel miller #berlin station

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alexadru · 4 years

Text

White Knight - Pay & Play to Win (Fate Grand Order edition)

Weiss had often wondered what made Ruby waste so much of her time on her scroll and when she had asked the question one day, her leader had simply shown her.

Fate Grand Order.

That was the title of the mobile game Ruby was sinking at least a couple of hours a week. Time which she could have spent improving her grades and becoming a better leader. The young girl was the face of team RWBY, after all, and Weiss would not settle for less than the very best.

That said, she did not have any particular complaints about her progress over the months, but she disagreed with all the time she was wasting pointlessly on a silly game.

A fact which she voiced without any restraint and which incurred another childish (in Weiss' opinion) argument between the two girls.

Ruby: "It's not childish! It's based on the greatest heroes from Earth's history, their stories and it has many life lessons. Plus, it's fun."

Weiss simply shook her head at the absurdity of her argument. She found it hard to believe that some fictional characters and their half thought out stories could ensnare people into playing that game for hours.

Ruby: "Why don't you give it a try first before you say it's childish? I bet you'll change your mind."

Another absurdity uttered by her partner, but, against her better judgement, Weiss, decided to give the game a try. If nothing else, but to prove Ruby wrong.

After an entire week and a lot of wear to her scroll's battery, Weiss would have an epiphany and would, begrudgingly, agree with Ruby. This game was fun.

From the intriguing story, the likes of which Weiss had never seen or read to the beautiful art of the characters, the heiress could say she was hooked. She continued to play regularly, enjoying the experience as she continued to make progress through the story.

Weiss had not reached the point where she would spend money to get certain characters like she had heard from Ruby that some players did. That was until she saw him and she literally fell in love.

After spending a substantial portion of her allowance to get him when he was in the gacha, her joy could be heard across campus as she literally screamed like a fangirl when he answered her summons.

Her object of adoration? The servant Saber, King Arthur. He was everything she dreamed about. From his kind, loyal and slightly playful attitude to his charming, soft looks which made her blush every time he'd give a smile when she would level him up.

These were all traits that she had voiced quite often to her team, which was present in the room on the day the Weiss alarm rang for the first time. Weiss talked so casually about the game these days that it showed just how much she was sucked into this world.

One Saturday, as Weiss was farming like mad for materials to make her prince perfect, Ruby said something that changed her perception on life.

Ruby: "Hey, Weiss. Don't you think that Arthur is kind of like Jaune?" The girl commented as she busied herself leveling up a well known red Archer.

The innocent remark was met with the heiress looking up from the device abruptly, ready to refute the claim and defend the knight. However, Weiss stopped short to consider her words for a few moments. Moments which turned into seconds which then turned into minutes. Her eyes widened as if she reached a revelation.

Ruby... was right!

Abruptly, she jumped on her feet and walked out of the room with hurried steps. The rest of team RWBY heard her knock on JNPR's door. It opened moments later.

From the other side, Jaune had answered with a bit of apprehension. It wasn't often that someone would knock so loudly on his team's dorm room, except for Nora when she'd forget her scroll. What he didn't expect to see in front of his eyes was the familiar figure of his former(?) crush which he was trying to move on from with little success.

Jaune: "Weiss? Is everything alright…" The boy didn't get to finish as her hand grabbed his wrist, earning his full attention.

Weiss: "Come with me for a bit!"

Unable to resist, he was dragged away by the small girl. Weiss had surprised him by how strong her grip was as she led him somewhere. The poor boy was caught so off guard, he couldn't do anything.

30 minutes later, Jaune found himself in the changing room of a store. It wasn't an ordinary store, however, but one that specialised in cosplay. Outfits belonging to famous fictional characters were sold here and for some reason, he found himself ready to change into one.

Of all the places in Vale, he did not expect the girl to bring him here. Nevermind the fact that she had given him an outfit and was told to try on, something from a game Ruby played if he remembered correctly.

It was very unusual from the normally serious Weiss he knew. Still, he begrudgingly started undressing and putting on the outfit, having a new-found appreciation for the people who enjoyed cosplaying.

Weiss waited outside the changing room for 10 minutes, her mind a jumbled mess of thoughts. All ranging from curiosity about how Jaune would look to her slightly panicking that she acted so out of character and dragged him without giving a single explanation.

Looking at her feet she considered her thoughts about the boy and found that she didn't know how to feel about him. Given what occurred in the last few months, Weiss genuinely didn't know the nature of their relationship. She never thought of him much before and only recently started noticing him.

Her head snapped back up when she heard the door open.

Jaune had exited the changing room looking awkward. His steps were hesitant as if he didn't know how to walk properly in the extravagant armor. Oddly enough, despite having more layers on him, he felt a lot more exposed as if a lot more eyes were on him. Which could very well be the case, the store was huge and packed with other customers.

In his personal opinion, when Jaune checked himself in the mirror before exiting, he found that the look suited him. The blue went well with his eyes and while the silver armor was not that special, the gold accents brought everything together, matching his hair as a bonus.

However, he looked nervously at the girl who had dragged him here. Jaune didn't know why, but he felt that she had done this for a reason and while she didn't share that reason, he hoped that he didn't disappoint her.

Weiss was quiet. Almost unusually so, despite her normally verbose self. She had seen the boy exit the changing room, donning the clothes she had picked for him and her mind came to a halt.

Baby blue eyes danced around, drinking in the sight of Jaune cosplaying the prince of her dreams. The boy who had both annoyed her the most and had been the kindest to her.

Weiss: "Jaune, would you smile for me, please?" She requested quitely.

Jaune: "What?" He didn't have a good feeling about the situation. Not with how quiet Weiss was being, her previous scrutinising gaze only adding to his nervousness.

Weiss: "Just… just give me your best charming smile."

And her weird requests kept coming. Jaune was smart enough to not question them, so he did as she requested. He tried to smile once, but it felt shaky, so he stopped, took a deep breath and tried again, his thoughts on how the beautiful girl in front of him made him feel before.

Weiss' breath hitched in her chest as she looked at him. It was impossible how well he fit the look. Everything from the blonde hair, his tall and lean physique to his boyish face was a near exact match to the Saber Servant. The only discrepancy was the eye color, deep blue instead of aqua. No less perfect in her vision.

Her face burned.

The old saying turned out to be true. The clothes did make the man and in this case, they made Jaune into her dream.

Jaune: "Weiss?" He stopped smiling and was a bit worried that she had yet to say anything.

His words seemed to have been a wake up call as she acted almost immediately. Abruptly, her small hands pushed Jaune back until he was inside the changing room again. The surprise gesture made him trip and fall on his butt inside the small room.

Weiss had followed him inside with no hesitation. After closing the door, she wasted no time in straddling him by sitting in his lap and giving him a deep, hot kiss, catching him completely off guard.

They broke it off after nearly a minute. The two panted as they struggled to regain their breaths, Weiss managing to do so much quicker.

Jaune: "W-weiss? Why di…?" To say he was shocked was an understatement. This went beyond anything he expected to happen when she had dragged him with her.

Weiss: "Where have you been all my life?" Her purring voice nearly made him melt from all the affection it held.

Jaune: "I-I've literally been asking you out for weeks." Did she really not notice him all those times?

Weiss: "Nevermind that. What matters now is that we're here and we can do whatever we want." To prove her point, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned forward until her body was pressed completely against his, feeling everything. She pressed her forehead against his, the intense gaze in her eyes sent shivers down his spine.

Jaune: "I think I need an adult…" As freaked out as he was by her gesture, he could not deny the butterflies he felt in his stomach or how hot his cheeks felt. Weiss Schnee had kissed him and it made his heart start a marathon in his chest.

Weiss: "I'll make a King out of you." With a slow, sensual lick, she wet her lips and captured his again. This time, her fingers went through his hair as she got lost in the sensation. Weiss nearly moaned when she felt his hands on her slim waist, pulling her closer as he began reciprocating.

They continued like this until the staff found them and kicked them out for indecency. Weiss managed to somehow buy the outfit anyway, though.

Now they simply walked around Vale with the heiress hugging his right arm to her body closely and leaning her head against it. The boy blushed all the way, but remained quiet.

The day had only begun for them.

#rwby white knight #rwby weiss schnee x jaune arc #rwby weissgold #rwby weiss x jaune #rwby weiss schnee #rwby weiss #rwby jaune arc #rwby jaune #rwby jaune arc x weiss schnee #rwby jaune x weiss #jaune arc x weiss schnee #jaune x weiss #yellowsnow rwby #fate grand order #fate series #arthur pendragon fate #gacha hell #rwby

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traumendesmadchen · 4 years

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Chronotopia August Update: The Great Wall of Text

Following the release of the new build of Chronotopia: Second Skin earlier this month, I decided to tackle an issue that had been looming over me for a while.

You see, when I first started the project back in 2016, there was no easy and practical way for developers relying on Ren’Py to handle sprites with complex layers. So a lot of us, myself included, used a mix of Live Composite and Condition Switch, which was the closest equivalent at the time. But, as it turned out, this was not a great solution because the system was never meant to be used like that and it could potentially create a lot of performance problems.

While I didn’t notice anything amiss in the team’s short games that use this system (likely because of their very limited scope) it became obvious over time that it wouldn’t go as smoothly with Chronotopia. Each time I implement a new route, adding more assets and animations in the process, the game becomes laggier and laggier. Reloading it in the middle of testing takes minutes instead of seconds and it very regularly crashes on me because my computer doesn’t have the best performances anyway. It’s genuinely unpleasant to do Chronotopia’s directing at times because of that.

Of course, it’s very likely you haven’t noticed this issue just yet because only a fragment of the game is publicly available but I cannot in good conscience sell the full version in that state. Which is why I’ve been pondering about revamping the sprites system for a while.

Fortunately, in mid 2018, PyTom, the creator of the Ren’Py engine, released a new layered image system that can handle the complex layers without the performance issues! I didn’t jump on the occasion though as I wanted to see exactly how the new system worked beforehand. And I think I was right to wait a bit considering that the versions of Ren’Py that came right after that one changed quite a few things. But since 2019 I’m fully familiarized with layered images and I’ve been using that system more or less exclusively for all the visual novel projects I’ve been hired on. Which makes it all the more painful when I resume my work on Chronotopia and it looks so rusty in comparison…

I’ve been wanting to switch systems for about a year and already made a few quick tests but it became apparent that it would require a lot of work. Since the sprite system is entirely different, I would need to define all the sprites anew and modify every single line of code they appear on…which is a lot for a game as long as Chronotopia is. Seeing as my priority is always to add more content, I told myself I would think about it again once the D route is done. And so, we’re back to my intro!

For the remainder of August, I’ve been working on revamping the sprite system of Chronotopia, adapting it to fit the current version of Ren’Py in the process. Because putting the files in the new 7.3.5 version would actually break a few features (such as the blinking animation), it had been sitting in the old obsolete 7.1.1 version of Ren’Py this whole time. Brr, that’s what I call a big cleaning...

The good news is that the porting will actually add some minor improvements here and there. For example, you can add a transition to layered images so that the change in expressions/outfits appear smoother. I took that opportunity to add an extra frame to the blinking animation to make it look less abrupt. It also allowed me to fix a transparency issue that was unavoidable with LiveComposite and ConditionSwitch: since the sprite was considered a sum of parts instead of a whole, it would make Kionna look very weird in night scenes or during invisibility mode.

The bad news is that, as expected, it’s a very long process. Not only do I need to become a copy-paste machine to replace all the expressions, but the new system also breaks my dynamic scenes so I have to manually replace every position too. After one or two weeks, I’m only halfway through the demo. As such, I’m conflicted: I know it wouldn’t make sense to prioritize implementing the endings now that the old system is obsolete…but the idea of being stuck for months again, just replacing code this time, is quite disheartening.

I guess whether I do the porting now or after the endings doesn’t really make a difference: I’ll have to do it either way so better steel myself in preparation!

#Traumendes madchen #visual novel #chronotopia #gamedev #indiedev #indiegame #english visual novel #otome #otome game #yuri #visual novel development

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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Welcome back, everyone!

We’re now on Chapter Eight and once again the story is told from Velvet’s perspective. So our starting question is: why is she getting the most attention so far? If memory serves, the PoV order has been Coco, Velvet, Sun, Fox, Yatsu, Velvet, Scarlet, Velvet again — meaning that in a text balancing eight main characters, so far four of them have received a single chapter, two (Sage and Neptune) zero chapters, and one three chapters. That seems rather imbalanced. I suppose it makes a certain amount of sense if we factor in RWBY viewers’ familiarity with Velvet, but I’d wager we’ve gotten far more screen time with Sun overall. My only point being, why Velvet? It’s not that you can’t make her a focal point of the narrative, I just haven’t seen anything to explain that choice in the first 100+ pages. Her perspective hasn’t brought anything unique to the story, something we couldn’t have gotten from the seven other characters involved in these events… but here we are, back with Velvet for the next six pages.

Yeah, this chapter is short. Silver lining?

We learn that Team NOVA is on their second mission — why bother showing us the first when they’re an entirely new, volatile team, right? That would be silly! — escorting a technician “through the Grimm-infested mountains just outside of Oscuro Combat School.” So Shade students regularly conduct real huntsmen work but throw a fit over having to spar with one another? Interesting. See, if I were a civilian who got even a glimpse of what goes on inside these schools, I would not trust these kids with my life.

Lo and behold, things go horribly! We learn right off the bat that “The technician had been knocked unconscious in a skirmish with a band of Dromedons.” For those of you with an iffy memory like mine, these are the camel-like creatures that spit acid and… that’s about all we know about them. That’s really all we need for this scene though because this grimm nailed the tech in his leg, a wound which now requires “serious medical attention.” Great. Gus Caspian, who I learn is a younger friend from the previous novel, is trying to treat the wound as best he can, clearly a little freaked out about being here, “but apparently Oscuro teachers didn’t coddle students any more than Theodore did.”

Do you expect them to? Despite Atlas being the only one who combines their academies with their military, we can’t pretend like these schools aren’t teaching teenagers to wield deadly weapons and kill things with them. There’s no institution on Earth (or Remnant) that should “coddle” those looking to take on that responsibility. I mean yeah, we had moments where Ozpin encouraged them to be kids, like after the food fight and during the dance, but he still took a hard stance whenever there was an actual lesson in the works: “No. You will be falling.” Based on the age of the students, the academies are akin to colleges. In real world college if you don’t do your work or don’t pay attention in class, well… nothing that bad happens. This is by no means a call to not do you work, merely an acknowledgement from a formerly grade obsessed student that individual test scores really don’t have the impact on your life that it feels like they will at the time. Trust me on this. So yeah, some leeway is great in the real world… but when the students are fighting monsters and defending others from death? Then the schools should absolutely discourage any slacker-esque attitude. The concept of any institution “coddling” huntsmen is horrifying.

Note though that the chapter starts after all the action has taken place. We skip the rest of reinitiation. We skip NOVA’s first mission. We skip the attack that landed Velvet in this predicament. It’s not automatically a bad technique provided you’re skipping over boring parts to get to the interesting bits… but this isn’t interesting. We learn almost nothing new from this scene: Velvet misses her old team, her new teammates don’t believe in her, Nebula is mean. Those are the emotional beats here — things we’ve known for at least three chapters now. The only thing that’s introduced is the advertisement on Gus’ scroll, which could have been been added to any other scene.

Let’s revise a bit:

We get to see the battle against the Dromedons wherein Velvet uses her camera, revealing her weapon to Team NOVA and earning more of their respect. Information about Gus’ improvement is shown through his combat abilities as he’s unexpectedly chucked into this battle (perhaps with him using his semblance to further his growth there too). While taking a hit he loses his scroll, slightly damaging it. In the aftermath Velvet retrieves it for him and finds this ad displayed, growing curious. Over the course of Gus’ explanations the rest of Team NOVA is clued into Velvet’s worry and suspicion. What’s wrong? It’s just an ad. But you’re clearly hiding something… Now, does she tell her new team about the Crown, or keep it silent and risk the tenuous trust they’ve just created?

Why is Myers skipping over all the action and potential growth?

Instead we get the boring stuff. Velvet admires Gus’ uniform because of how it’s built for the heat and recalls that “Coco had been messing around with new outfit designs for Team CFVY.” I swear though, 95% of my enjoyment with this novel comes from the throwaway details. I would actually like seeing how Coco combines her personal love of fashion with the necessity of designing combat gear appropriate for the environment. Maybe they frame it as merely a hobby outside of their huntsmen work, giving them an excuse to keep helping their former teammates. That could be cool!

Though of course, this is the series where Cinder, Neo, Hazel, and Emerald all walk into the ice Kingdom with skin bared, so...

(You all are going to freeze to death, have fun.)

“Velvet’s ears swiveled around, listening for danger.” That’s anything detail I like. At the very least Before the Dawn remembers that Velvet is a faunus and frequently incorporates that into her character. She’s on the lookout because other than Gus tending the unconscious technician, she’s alone “on the sidelines.” It’s framed simultaneously as the group rejecting her and as an unavoidable necessity: “it wasn’t like she didn’t have an important task of her own [repairing the relay], one that none of her teammates had the expertise to perform.”

Wait. Why does Velvet have this expertise?

The justification is that she’s “handy with electronics” and “Anesidora was incredibly complicated, and she’d designed it herself,” but that’s like saying “I built a computer so I’ll come fix your refrigerator. That’s easier.” I don’t know, maybe someone with the ability to build a computer from the ground up could figure out a refrigerator on the fly, but they feel like different skill-sets to me. All electronics are not built the same and claiming that because you understand one you automatically understand all others — even supposedly simpler pieces of tech — seems a little suspect. If that were the case, we’d have no need for experts who fix your phone, your television, your toaster, and your watch. Surely if you understand one you understand the others, right? It’s the same assumption here: If Velvet can understand building a hard light weapon, then she must understand relay communications too!

…right.

She even goes so far as to say that they “probably should have left the technician at Oscuro—she could have done this on her own” yet just a few minutes later it’s, “Velvet double-checked everything. She didn’t know what was wrong. She glanced back at the technician, Gus still at his side. The guy was out cold. He’d taken a pretty hard knock to the head. Well, she had tried.” So she’s confident enough to think that the technician is unnecessary one moment and then looking to him for help the next? Which of course isn’t followed by any sort of revelation. Velvet doesn’t acknowledge that her knowledge isn’t as specialized as she had assumed it was, or that huntsmen rely on non-combat experts for other things. She just shrugs and…

…kicks it.

Yeah. Velvet’s skill amounts to kicking the box until it works. Which, of course, it does.

I can’t with this novel.

More seriously though, that’s terrible characterization. Not only does it undermine Velvet’s actual skill to reduce it to being “handy with electronics” — isn’t every huntsmen “handy with electronics” then, considering they all build their gun/energy/dust weaponry in school? — but it adds another layer of supposed uselessness to the adult professionals around her. Theodore doesn’t teach them anything because, as their headmaster, he’s removed from everyday interactions. Rumpole can’t be trusted now and every lesson she tries to impart is rejected. The unnamed technician who is referred to only by his professional title is deemed unnecessary, knocked out, and then indeed proves useless when Velvet magically does his job for him. So why are any of them in school? Why aren’t they just running the world with their superior knowledge and skill-sets? Every time the RWBY franchise puts its characters in a position where they might actually learn something through failure, it pulls back at the last second. ‘Never mind, they actually knew this all along!’ Or, ‘Never mind, the things they’ve been taught are stupid, so best to forget them!’ I struggle to understand what kind of story I’m reading — or watching — when the characters are already framed as perfect. Or rather, flaws absolutely exist (as these recaps attest), but the story pretends they’re not there.

I hesitate to use the term “Mary Sue” here due to its origins and history. Meaning, the Mary Sue was conceived of as a parody, a deliberate exaggeration to comment on the types of characters written in the Star Trek fandom. Then people began using “Mary Sue” as a catch-all term for any female character that people deemed too talented (regardless of how talented their male counterparts might be), we started acknowledging the sexist undertones of that, then started reclaiming the term as something to celebrate and embrace… but we haven’t quite gotten there yet. “Mary Sue” is still a pretty loaded name to force on a character and it carries a lot of implications that I absolutely do not want to attach to Velvet. Yet it’s also the closest term I know to describe the act of an author giving a character what feels like a badly justified skillset. Such as “handy with technology” actually meaning “can fix anything powered by electricity or Dust as the plot needs.”

Velvet is the action movie hacker going, “I’m in” is what I’m getting at. It’s not a compliment lol.

During all this grimm watching and relay fixing, Gus wants to know why they don’t just high-tail it out of there. Especially since the person they brought to do a specific job can no longer do that job. Mission’s a bust. Velvet gives what sounds like a decent explanation: “Retreating from Grimm isn’t an option when you’re fighting this close to a settlement. If we leave without destroying them, the Grimm will just look for another target.” AKA the settlement itself.

Thing is, by this logic any grimm that are currently close enough to attack them are already close enough to the settlement to latch onto those people as the next target. They’d pick up on the civilians whether Velvet’s group was there to kill them or not. The group is there though, so they feel responsible, but why not just head to the settlement anyway? If the grimm follow you, fine. You can still fight them AND you now get the additional benefit of any other huntsmen/students who might be there. If they don’t follow you, great. If they were close enough to the settlement all along… again, this was always going to happen.

Which, to be clear, isn’t the worst stance to take. I understand them wanting to avoid any potential risk by leaving/leading the grimm towards anyone else. I only want to point out the additional stupidity of fighting them when you’ve already got an unconscious civilian in your care, a barely trained student, and the whole reason you came out here might now be for naught. Yeah, Velvet gets the relay working with her magic kick and yeah, the rest of the team handles the grimm just fine, but none of them are able to see into the future and know that both these events will occur. Gus’ ‘Why are we staying here? It’s dangerous and pointless’ question has merit.

But of course, no one in RWBY would ever consider retreat. It’s a very iffy characteristic at this point.

We learn — or at least I learn now — that Gus’ semblance is the ability to enhance others’ emotions, so basically the opposite of Ren’s. That would indeed be incredibly handy provided he has good control over it. We get another reference to Yatsuhashi’s “meditation exercises” that helped Gus’ grandfather in the last novel. Velvet theorizes that his improved memory has more to do with Yatsuhashi’s semblance than any generic meditation: “No one knew for sure what Yatsuhashi had done with his Semblance when he’d tried to heal Edward’s mind … even Yatsuhashi wasn’t sure. His ability was to erase memories, but it was possible that there was more to Yatsu’s Semblance than that.” Um… subtle yikes? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad things have turned out well for the guy, but if I were the grandfather—or a family member of his—I wouldn’t really want a student messing around with my mind when he “wasn’t sure” what he was doing. Especially when the base skill is to erase memories, not recover or strengthen them. Honestly, I love taking a good look at fantasy series because half the time you realize how horrifying things actually are, once you strip away the common place aspects of these skills. An equivalent third year college student is running around experimenting with peoples’ memories to see if he can achieve something other than erasing them. Great!

The good thing is that Yatsuhashi is just as suspicious of this power as I am. Velvet things that he “hated messing with people’s minds.” Understandable, bud. I’d hate the ability too.

While they’ve got this time alone, Gus mentions that he had planned to contact Velvet soon anyway. Two of his classmates have gone missing and though his school has told Shade about it—there’s at least some of that additional info that Rumpole mentioned—he wanted to let her know too because remember, no one in this franchise trusts the professionals to fix problems. It’s a mindset I’d better understand if the professionals were actually inept. Or the protagonists weren’t training to be those professionals. It’s still exceedingly weird to me that there’s so little respect and trust for huntsmen while they desperately try to become huntsmen…

Something something broken systems, but RWBY isn’t interested in exploring that.

So yeah, Gus ropes Velvet in with the hope that she can help. He says that they were last seen attending a new club called Mirage that hosts one-on-one fights for a championship title. So… it’s not really a club, right? Sure, sure, we’ve all seen Fight Club, but generally that’s used to describe dancing, not fighting. It’s a rather misleading term for what they were actually looking for. No one else finds this odd though. Nor that the information was sent out to select, powerful individuals. Nothing shady about this, folks! Velvet obviously recognizes all these details—a club, powerful semblances, a crown in the advertisement—and asks Gus to pass it along to her.

Our plot forwarded ever so slightly, their conversation ends as Arslan calls Velvet on the now fixed connection. One of the first thing she says is that Octavia used the other students as bait for the grimm.

At least Velvet shares my reaction: “What?!”

Octavia then takes an already bad situation and makes it that much worse. Listening in, she defiantly says, “That’s right. And it worked. It’s called strategy.” She confirms that the students are “mostly” okay and taunts Velvet about inviting them to her “Baby Brigade and you can all cry about it!” I hope I don’t need to take up precious document space by explaining how awful this is. Overlooking the fact that these would-be huntsmen are willing to put their younger peers’ lives in danger like that—and then mock them for needing mental health resources after the fact—why is Octavia the one pulling the murderous Mean Girl act? Yeah, she was an asshole during reinitiation, but wasn’t the whole point of that to demonstrate that she and Velvet got a little closer? Even if she won’t admit it? She saved Velvet from flying down that hole, but now she risks the lives of students at least three years her junior? If anyone should be this violent and antagonistic towards Velvet, it’s Nebula. The most she’s done for Velvet is offer a hand up, otherwise we just watched her express glee in getting to fight her and mock her for not abandoning Beacon… the same sort of behavior we’re seeing from Octavia now. Does Myers think that these two characters are interchangeable? That he can just pick one willy-nilly per chapter and let her play at being Velvet’s Mean Girl?

As a lovely anon reminded me recently, these are also the girls that were created and backed by fans. If I had put money and creative energy into these OCs, I’d be pretty frustrated with how the RT team has been treating them.

Arslan at least is complimentary towards Velvet for fixing the relay—“Truly, great work today”— and Velvet herself is appropriately shocked at Octavia’s behavior. That’s more emotional consistency than I’ve come to expect of this book, so I’ll take whatever little bits I can get.

Arslan signs off with plans to meet back up soon and Velvet thinks about how “everyone was safe after the mission, which was no small thing.” I’d agree… except for Velvet’s early thoughts about how easy this mission supposedly was and Octavia’s decision to put her teammates in danger. It sounds like if anything did go sideways, it’s in part because you chose to enter this overconfidently and then actively made it more dangerous.

Finally, the chapter ends with Velvet believing that she might be able to make her new team work with time. Our final line, in its own paragraph is: “If they had time.”

Am I the only one who finds this weird? The line reads like an omniscient bit of foreboding. Velvet thinks about how she just needs time and we, the reader, hear that this won’t be possible. Except this chapter is told from Velvet’s perspective. So why does she think they might not have time? Because of the Crown? I assume there will be an attack towards the end of the novel—can’t have a RWBY story without the final, epic battle—but right now Velvet has no reason to believe that an attack is imminent, or that the teams will change back, or anything else that would interfere with her hopes of strengthening this relationship… so why the rather confident sounding pessimism? I don’t know. I don’t pretend to know anymore lol.

At least this chapter was short? As said, silver linings. We’re still treading water though: Velvet’s bond with her new team seems to have regressed after two missions, rather than improved, and Gus didn’t reveal anything we didn’t already know, just further confirmed it. I assume that next chapter Velvet and the others will visit Mirage. Let’s hope something actually happens then.

See you! 💜

[Ko-Fi]

#rwby #mymetas #Before the Dawn #BTD Recaps

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rosesmith18 · 3 years

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(PnF) Headcanon #11 Thomarie Nitpicks #2 Pt.1 Clothing

This is sort of a sister post to post #6 & #7, it mentions characters from post #6, and is connected to my current series of post about the problems I have with the MnT(Marie and Thomas) Universe. I want to make it clear that I like these characters...to an extent, but to another extent I don't. I want the best for them as they were a big part of my childhood, and so in this post I want to make some tweaks to their clothing and personalities, as I find them currently sporadic and dated.

*Disclaimer: The MnT Universe is centered around (OC)Maria Flynn & (OC)Thomas Fletcher. Marie belongs to angelus19 & sam-ely-ember deviantart. Thomas Belongs to Melty64.

Maria's Child Clothing: Okay, so a lot of people have made the claim that Maria's design is generic which I will not deny. It's a blatant ripe off of her mothers clothes with a change of color palette, and while I enjoy the idea of Phineas designing her clothes to be that way, it's a waste of potential(as are most things I will mention in this post). Maria canonically adores France, and in my headcanon was born there, so I think some Parisian style could be added to this design. I'd draw instead of writing about this, but I have no artistic talent. For starters, based on my research(as I myself am not French)puffed sleeves are a common occurrence in French clothing culture, so giving Marie puffed sleeves in place of her mothers regular ones would be nice. Instead of basic shoes, ankle boots are also a common item in French clothing followed by white and/or black tights. Now, ironically enough the style of belt Isabella has on her clothes is similar to a French Skinny belt called a Maison Boinet, so just change it from being one color to a light brown with a metal clip, and it can stay-as can the main outfit. Lastly, to quote https://leoncechenal.com/french-girl-style-guide/ 'And I think the ultimate goal of all French girls is to find their own style (what they like and what they don’t) and to stick to it.', so in summary this doesn't need to look perfect or fancy it just needs to look natural.

Maria's Teen Clothing: Okay, this one is even worse in my opinion, but the whole one color thing is killing me! So, for this I did a COMPLETE recall and came up with this; A purple beret, orange bow wrapped around her neck mimicking a Parisian scarf, dressed in an orange & purple horizontal striped sweater dress that hangs off her shoulders, and a pair of black single buckle ballet flats. She would have a gold chain-link belt to replace her Maison Boinet one, a cameo necklace of the Virgin Mary, and a gold choker with small bells. Based on my research actual Beret's aren't that common in French culture anymore, though ironically striped shirts and dresses are, but Marie's is canonically the one her mother wore in the episode 'Summer Belongs to You' and familial connection is super important to Maria-so I decided to keep it. I kept her Garcia-Shapiro bow as I am appalled they tried to get rid of Isabella's in AYA(Act your Age)! Vivian clearly still has her from when she was young, and I believe every Garcia-Shapiro who wants one should keep them to some extent throughout their life! Off shoulder tops and dresses are pretty common in France as are sweaters, so I gave Maria an off shoulder sweater dress. And, ballet flats are some of the most common footwear for woman in France, they have many styles like the single buckle that don't actually look like ballet flats we American's would usually associate with ballet. The jewelry wore by French woman is wore all the time, and is rarely below the quality of 10-carrot gold. Layering necklaces of different sizes such as a cameo necklaces and a choker is normal, and chain-link belts are considered appropriate for any and every outfit. Chokers are a bit longer than some might expect them to be, and I went with a cameo necklace of the Virgin Mary as I headcanon Maria to be a serious Jew. Lastly, make-up in the French world is some of the most neutral in color and shade, so I gave Maria a soft pink lip and nose bridge blush at best.

Thomas' Child Clothing: I heavily dislike Thomas' child design. It lacks any personality in my opinion when compared to Ferbs or Vanessa's. I appreciate that it isn't a ripe off like Marie's, but that doesn't make it good or interesting. Also, this ties into my biggest problem with Thomas, but he's too...boyish. There is nothing wrong with having a practically boyish character, but that kind of personality and style is better used on a character intended to be boyish, and not characters who happen to be boys. I mean Thomas is the son of one of the most headcanon'd nonbinary characters in the whole show, and one of the most headcanon'd bisexual's in the whole show. This is why I mentioned these characters being a bit dated. They definitely came out before LGBTQ+ representation became popular in the fandom-at least compared to the extent of today. So, for Thomas I want to propose a few heavy changes to his child design, starting with...SKIRTS. I petition Thomas to have an either black & white(or purple and green), plaid skirt that reaches his knees. This style of skirt is popular in both British and German(Drusselstein) clothing culture, and is something his family would so support! I mean the potential Thomas has for normalizing clothing as gender neutral is being completely wasted! A white polo shirt inspired by his fathers and his original design underneath. A tweed blazer-of the same color scheme-which is considered always in style in Britain, and the Haferlschuh which are the most popular type of shoe found in Germany-and suit any outfit. Add some tracht socks in white and you have the perfect style!

Thomas' Teen Clothing: This design wasn't horrible, I actually quite like the overall vibe it was going for, but it's not specific enough. I don't find this design to be more than a vibe; It doesn't go deeper than that when it could. So, I summarized it into this; Ripped up, leather pants, sleeveless, white turtleneck, high-heeled, black boots, and to top it all off a trench coat and leather satchel. Considering Thomas is the lead singer and bass guitarist for a classic/heavy rock band I think some ripped leather pants with a bell bottom are perfect. I kept the sleeveless, white classic turtleneck that came from his original design as I do think it's appropriate. I also wanted to pay homage to his mothers almost iconic heels by giving Thomas a similar pair himself; A pair of black, over the knee boots, with a stiletto heel. The trench coat MADE his original design, and the traditional leather satchel is a perfect accent to it, both are British classics in the world of fashion.

Thomas' Rock Outfit: I'm added a subsection for Thomas' clothes as we NEED to talk about his band outfit. I want to say this first, I don't like the original name for the band. Clair is a generic name that doesn't sound too rock-ish in my opinion. It's supposed to represent Maria as it is a French girls name, but it's too simple for someone like Thomas. So, I changed it to Église des Gémeaux which represents Maria in more ways. The name literally translate to Church of Gemini from French to English. It represents Maria's French heritage, her connection to her Jewish Religious roots, and contains a reference to her birth month of June-her birth sign Gemini. The band in itself is canonically represented by The Spill Canvas which is an American Alternative rock band which I also changed. I gave the band a more Eisbrecher/Queen style as Thomas is German(Drusselstein)/British. Eisbrecher is a German Neue Deutsche Härte rock band(translating to New German Hardness aka Industrial Rock), and most of us know Queen the British rock band known for helping to start the rock genre making them a Classic rock band. Major headcanon to this band I want to add, Thomas primarily sings in German(Drusselstein) as he himself has a heavy German(Drusselstein)/British accent. His canonical outfit is a leather top similar to his mothers teenage attire, some basic jeans, and some black boots. I have rewritten this design as such; Ripped up, bell bottom, leather pants, long-sleeve, purple, deep V-neck top, covered by a studded, leather jacket, and keeping his pair of black, over the knee boots, with a stiletto heel. Accent this outfit with some studded, leather cuff bracelets, silver chain choker, and industrial piercing as well as some crescent moon 2nd/Upper lobe piercings. Now, the style of rock/punk is highly personal and changes heavily from generation to generation, but as someone whose family is highly involved in the antique business; It can be expected that Thomas would have a classic rock style inspired by the band he loves such as Eisbrecher, Queen, The Rolling Stones, Mozart L'Opéra rock, Amon Düül II, etc. Some of the elements of his outfit repeat such as his pants and heels, though his deep V-neck is inspired by a picture of Queen. His studded jacket is inspired by MANY rockers of the past. And, his jewelry has a very punk aesthetic. His make-up can be expected to be heavy with intense eyeliner, mascaras, and aided with a plum lip to match his V-neck. While I do enjoy the Grunge style take for Fred & Xavier; I personally find it underwhelming for someone such as Thomas.

I'll end the post here for now as it's getting pretty long. I'll make a post about personality changes at a later point(likely my next post). If you have any questions, comments, etc about what changes I've made feel free to share them! If you have any expertise with French, German, British, or Rock attire and believe I've been misinformed than please tell me! I remind you I am not an expert on fashion, character design, and am only aware of American trends. These changes are entire based on what knowledge is available to me, and my own personal feelings about clothes and characters, but I'm open to learning! I apologize if my opinions come off as harsh, I am merely opinionated about things I enjoy, but I hold no ill-will towards anyone who thinks differently. At the end of the day, I don't own Marie or Thomas or Phineas and Ferb, and am merely expressing my freedom to make or suggest changes. I encourage anyone reading this post to do the same, and be has intense as you feel, of course WITHOUT being insulting of the people you disagree with. Thank you!

#phineas and ferb #marie and thomas #headcanon #oc #clothing #marie flynn #thomas fletcher #phineas flynn #isabella garcia shapiro #ferb fletcher #vanessa doofenshmirtz #next gen #phinbella #ferbnessa #pnf

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et-lesailes · 5 years

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lily white in blood red // chapter one

prologue

pairing: curtis everett x reader

word count: 1750

series summary: you are a part of the upper-middle section aboard snowpiercer, but you do not agree with the classist views of the people you are surrounded by. when the infamous curtis everett reaches your part of the train, you decide you want to join him in overthrowing the train’s misguided inventor– while curtis agrees to let you join, he has other plans in mind.

series themes: angst, romance, obsession, fighting/bloodshed, smut

chapter summary: reader meets curtis for the first time.

taglist: @viarogers , @evanstush , @chibi-crazy , @chalamet-evans , @world-of-losers ,@songforhema, @sebabestianstan101 , @tanyam93 , @bval-1, @wonderwinchester ,@little-miss-exo, @poerebel , @bitchbabes-world , @gogomez-509 , @patzammit, @jbug491, @honeyloverogers, @fatbottomedcurls, @whores4thor, @jennmurawski13,@angrybirdcr, @mcueveryday, @scooby-doodoo, @peach-acid, @tansypoisoning,@quaiderade, @a-distantdreamer, @malthestorytellerblog, @rainbowkisses31,@melannie77, @gigistorm

notes: would just like to add that in the movie, curtis has been on earth for 17 years and on snowpiercer for 17. seeing that the reader is a train baby, following this logic would make her underage, and so for the purpose of this story, the numbers work out a little differently and i want to make it clear that reader is not a minor. however, i left it slightly up to interpretation how old she really is, just so it can be more relatable for anyone who’s reading! also shoutout to @allthefandomstogether for THIS BEAUTIFUL GRAPHIC, thank you so much love!!! ♡

** if you would like to be added to the taglist, please send an ask! if you would like to be removed from this series, please don’t hesitate to let me know. :)

You do not have a lot of time to look at him. One of your fellow middle sectioners steps up right in between you and the revolution leader, ready to kill. Everything is happening so fast, it suddenly feels like your body is acting without your brain.

Your knife goes right into his neck, but it’s not Curtis’.

The middle sectioner you had once called a friend is now dead at your feet from your own doing, his blood splattered across smooth skin and white lace.

Perhaps there was a time in Curtis’ life where he was carefree, cheerful, naive. Surely he must have been as a little boy, at least, considering he had nearly two decades on Earth before everything became utter chaos. Before Snowpiercer.

Now, Curtis is a rugged and grizzly man, completely hardened from his years on board. The only thing on his mind for years now has been the revolution. The plan to battle his way to the front. He has no time to think of anything or anyone else, save for his team.

Or so he thought, anyways, until he lays eyes on you for the first time, slightly shocked upon witnessing the betrayal of one upper class passenger towards another.

At first, he only sees your face. Beautiful eyes looking back at his, round with innocence. Healthy roseate lips, a feature simple yet so rare in the tail section due to the grime and dryness in the air. Clean, smooth, flawless skin; he cannot even see a single raised swell or tiny mark. He had forgotten that people looked like this. During the past few days of fighting his way to the front of the train, he did not bother to look at the people he was brutally murdering. It had nothing to do with guilt. He simply does not think they are even worth an inch of space in his mind, and therefore their faces do not even have to be glanced at.

As he stares at you, he is suddenly thankful that he did not apply his usual technique to this situation.

His eyes drift down, only to linger upon the thin alabaster lace adorning your figure. He is not sure why his eyebrows furrow upon seeing such ivory stained with vermilion, as if he himself is not covered in it. Then again, there is a difference; his layers of ratty, misfitting clothes were already sullied to begin with-- while morbid, adding blood to the material did not do much damage compared to what had already been done. You, however…

He decides almost immediately that there should never be even a drop of crimson upon your skin or your clothing ever again. Nor should you ever use such a weapon again, or even hold one.

There is silence for a few moments. Edgar and the others have helped kill off the rest. You are the only middle sectioner standing, you are the one closest to the door of the next cart. You still have your knife in your hand, but it is relaxed by your side. You are a bit shaken up, but you do not look nervous of them.

The only people Curtis has truly cared about for a while now are Gilliam, Edgar, and Tanya. No one else fazes him, no one else has ever had a deep enough impact. When he sees you, something changes. It almost feels like instinct.

“Why did you do that?” he asks, body still naturally tense nonetheless. He does not understand what business an upper-middle sectioner has killing one of their own, but he is genuinely intrigued.

“Are you Curtis?” you ask, and he feels slammed in the windpipe upon hearing your voice. Soft and sweet, just like that look in your eyes-- despite the fact you just killed a man. “Yes.” He answers, eyes locked onto yours. “You know me?”

“Of course… Everyone knows you. The man who’s starting a revolution. You’re trying to get to the front.”

“Then why did you help me just now?” he asks, though more curious than suspicious. He does not want to be suspicious of you. He can’t imagine you as deceitful or crooked. Not you. He already has an entire image of you in his head without even knowing your name, without even having known you for more than one minute.

You let yourself look at him for a few moments, feeling oddly relaxed. He is definitely not a sight you are used to, yet for some reason, you already feel strangely secure around him. “In school they taught us to hate the tail section,” you admit softly, looking towards the darkness of the cold night outside the windows. “That they don’t deserve the privileges and rights we get. That there has to be a balance, and so they don’t get showers or real food or nice clothes since we do.” You glance down at your light and dainty apparel before returning your eyes to his. “But I don’t think that seems right.”

“You’re fuckin’ right, it’s not,” Edgar pipes up in a strong Irish accent, and your eyes dart to him in curiosity. “But are you only saying that so we spare your life? Because in that case, you can join your friends here lying on the-”

Curtis silences him with a mere movement of his hand, holding it outspread towards the younger’s direction in a gesture to shush him. You are not sure whether to be impressed or nervous that it works so instantly. You look up to those ice cold eyes again, wondering what he’ll say. You know that his friend has every right to feel wary. You can’t even imagine the twisted things the front sectioners have subjected them to; you quite literally do not know what they are, because such topics are not discussed. “I want to fight,” you suddenly say, and Curtis blinks. “I want to join the revolution, I want to help you guys.” You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, and while it feels a bit unsettling, you continue standing your ground as you look up at the team leader.

Curtis has never met someone like you before, not even on Earth. He has never been so interested in someone, so damn fascinated. Perhaps it is because he is a man- a man who has been deprived of something quite a lot of men on this world need. Though, in truth, he really has not thought about sex in the past few years. In such grim living conditions, it is not particularly a priority of his. Perhaps he’s been a little too obsessive over his scheme of revolution, but it isn’t as though there are many viable options when it comes to women in the tail section. They are just as broken and battered as he-- if anything, sleeping with them may only result in even more melancholy.

No, he decides, still studying you intently. That is not the reason he is so enticed. At least, not the whole reason, if his subconscious has something to do with it. You have a countenance he’s never quite seen before-- or at least, in a very long time. You are not broken or battered, nor are you strong and secure. You have guts, that is for sure, but in your figure standing before him, he sees something that is incredibly rare to come by on Snowpiercer.

Immaculacy. Purity. Naivete. Gullibility.

He sees lily white, and it is stained by blood red. In this moment, he realizes he has another job at hand entirely.

“You’ll come with us,” he decides, and you slowly exhale as you look to the floor. “But you won’t fight.”

“What?” Your head snaps up, and he is expecting indignance, but all he sees is confusion and perplexity.

He is even more captivated than before.

“You won’t fight.” He repeats, then looks around, a sense of urgency in his features. “Where do you keep your clothes? Are they here?” You slowly nod your head, pointing to the drawer underneath your bed compartment. Your clothes are custom made for you, and rotated out every now and then with new items added to the mix made by the train’s tailors, based on your style. “Change.” He demands simply, and you’re even more puzzled than before. “I-it’s just a little bit of blood, it’s not a-”

“I said change.”

You obey instantly, upset with yourself for even responding in the first place. You lean over to open the drawer, wondering what to wear. The tailors haven’t exactly made you an outfit suited for battle and bloodshed. He sees you pausing and speaks again. “Something like what you’re wearing will do just fine. Do you have another one?” You blink, not exactly having pictured yourself participating in the revolution dressed in a nightie, but you do not want to argue. You pick up a red one and he instantly shakes his head. “Not red.” You look up at him, trying your best to read him but put it back, biting your lip. “What color, then?”

“White.”

You’re thankful you happen to have another one, unsure how he would react if you didn’t. One day you will ask him why this matters so much, but today is not that day. You need him to trust you. “Can you, uh, turn around, maybe?” you ask shyly, and he nods his head, turning away and giving a look to the others to do the same; they are looking at him just as baffled as you are, even slightly judgmental, but they comply. It still feels awkward anyways, but you quickly slip out of your stained apparel and change into the fresh one. “Okay, I’m ready.” He turns back around and shakes his head. “Not yet.”

Stepping closer, he pulls the sleeve of his thick jacket over his hand, reaching out carefully to wipe the drying blood off your upper chest. It is still fresh enough that no water is necessary, yet he swipes his tongue over his thumb and rubs your collarbones with it, his eyes focused.

From now on, he wants this white lace completely preserved, and he will do whatever it takes to keep it that way. “What’s your name?” he asks you, and you make eye contact with him again, a slight blush on your cheeks. “Y/N,” you answer softly, and he lets the brand roll off his tongue.

He isn’t sure how something can sound so right.

#curtis everett x reader #curtis everett smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #snowpiercer #lwbr

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trackmag · 4 years

Text

Turtle Doves And Pigeon Shit

Romanticism And James Blake`s Can`t Believe The Way We Flow

Romanticism could be argued to be outdated, but once we look beyond the clichés and grasp the ideas behind it, we become aware of its relevance today; In how we live, in what we believe in and argue about.

James Blake released the album Assume Form in 2019. He so far has released 5 Music Videos alongside it, one of which is the video for “Can`t Believe The Way We Flow” directed by none other than Frank Lebon. Frank`s approach to his videos and work so far has been a lush and somewhat wild mixture of techniques and media, leaving him with a massive pot of footage and tools for the hours he spends editing. To some degree even this approach of mixed media is in a sense very true to the fashion, believe and tradition of romanticism. This and many other aspects of the video, is what I hope to discuss and further investigate in the following TRCKMG entry.

Still 01, Can`t Believe The Way We Flow, 2019.

A Short Introduction To Romanticism

Romanticism. I am not referring to roses, boxes of chocolates and the numerous red silk bows we see on valentine`s day. I hereby am referring to an epoch also known as the romantic period. Speaking roughly of romanticism we think of a time between the end of the 18th towards the end of the 19th century. This slice of our history is marked by many very major political and cultural events across Europe and the globe. Some worth mentioning here would be the French revolution (which is often believed to be a starting point of the French romanticist movement) and the industrialization, marked by heavy machinery, steam engines, factories and therefore factory labour. We do, however, believe that the origin of romanticism as a term and way of thinking lies in Germany. Friedrich Schlegel, a German philosopher, author and poet first used the term “romantisch” believed to be in reference to the word “Roman” which is German for novel. Romantic therefore being “novel-like”.

From there on romanticism spread fast across Europe supported by the events described earlier. More than just a fashion moment, romanticism describes a different way of thinking in direct contrast (and perhaps in protest) to the inhumane labour happening in factories caused by the industrial revolution. People needed to believe in something, in more relevant things, in nature, in purity, in emotion and in beauty. So not surprisingly romanticism manoeuvred like a wave, spreading across fine art, literature, poetry and even medicine. What we can see in many paintings of that time, are vast and lush landscapes. Nature at its most triumphant, often alongside a tiny human figurine, humbled by mother nature, reminding the human of his place and scale in this world. This emphasized by the Lyrics in the song: “I`m finding I`m a smaller piece than I thought. Oh no I really am”. Even back then, the immediate threat facing the natural world was carefully depicted in William Wordsworth`s poetry with the arrival of factory buildings and nearby compounds of living quarters for the workers.

Painting by Hans Gude, “Fra Hardanger”, 1847.

With this surface level introduction to romanticism, we now can take a closer look at the actual Music Video for “Can`t Believe The Way We Flow”:

Act One: Red Lit Couples

Still 02, Can`t Believe The Way We Flow, 2019.

The Video starts off with a zoom into a mirror. The reflective image reveals James sitting on a bench. The continuation of the zoom is made with invisible cuts while dark silhouettes pass by, covering James for a mere flash of a blacked out frame. He appears closer and closer after each such black-out. Meanwhile you can hear the pigeons take flight, signalling a start to the song and video - take off. And with the first pigeon shit landing on James` cheek, it`s clear the video with its main plot now begins and the subjects appear.

The 2nd time we hear Can`t Believe The Way We Flow in the Lyrics, the lips of the red lit couples meet. The images flashing by are fragments of their lives in relationships. We aren`t meant to immediately understand who they are, where they`re coming from and maybe more importantly what exactly they`re up to. We only see aspects that should be familiar to anyone who`s ever been in a relationship. For instance, being the most intimate during breakfast where spontaneous conversations can leave you happy as ever or absolutely gutted and devastated, maybe also depending on what occured the night before.

Another place where we find a kind of intimacy where the shared space really gets noticeable to us as lovers, is the bathroom. Apart from the hints of breakfast scattered throughout the video there`s also the toilet. Waste. The toilet which stereotypically always seems to spark arguments. Flush the damn thing, put the seat down, put it up and then down. But it`s also the same space in which we share our toothpaste, standing in front of the mirror before bed. Leading conversations whilst getting ready to go out together. The point being, these images are highly familiar and highly emotional to us. The small window in which Frank lets these images flash across our screens is enough for us to recognize and connect. These are couples in their banalities. We aren`t meant to understand how they got there and where they`re going. We`re supposed to draw from our own experiences, our own relationships when seeing these fragments and glimpses into their lives. It`s a reflection. We still are looking into that same mirror from the first shot of the video, remember?

Still 03, Can`t Believe The Way We Flow, 2019.

Cut between the kisses is a 2D animated kiss, in the same style as the quick drawing we saw flash by on a table earlier. It might be a glimpse into the Storyboard for the video, adding another layer and texture to the visuals. This approach alone can also be read as a nod to romanticism as there was a high exchange between different media and artists. Poets and painters, novelists and sculptor. All echoing and responding to eachother`s work.

Throughout all of this we see James remain seated on that same bench, from the very first frame of the video. An observer. In romanticism, as a response to the capitalist mentality, the flâneur describes a person seen wandering around with nowhere to be or go. Observant, most likely unemployed, playful and sensitive to his surroundings. James is very likely maintaining this role in the video. The careful bystander, observing the beauty around him. Beauty that lies hidden for most others in their hectic lives.

Act Two: Pigeons, Cupid and a Gun

Still 04, Can`t Believe The Way We Flow, 2019.

A culmination of shots of pigeons (and some seagulls) in flight. Close-up of a pigeon`s face, slowly revealed to be sitting on someone`s head. This someone is Frank Lebon`s dad, photographer Mark Lebon. Here he`s also cupid. A cupid who has aged and traded his bow and arrow off for a knotted sniper gun.

Cupid is often described as a winged, nude, young boy armed with bow and arrow. He`s usually depicted as somewhat cruel and mischievous, very aware of what emotional turmoil he can cause in people. Cupid as a figure derives from roman mythology and is considered to be the god of love, or rather the god of being in love. The roman cupid is also understood to be somewhat based on the Greek god Eros, who some believe was a son to the goddess Venus. Eros and Cupid can`t be defeated, any- and everyone falls victim to them and their power. In the following painting, artist Julius Kronberg captured Cupid in his full demeanour in 1885, so towards the end of classic romanticism:

Painting by Julius Kronberg, Cupid, 1885.

Now in comparison to Frank`s take on Cupid we immediately notice the age difference. The world in many ways has become what romanticists had feared; Industrial, concrete, consumerist. Perhaps Cupid had to adjust to survive? Lose his wings and grow up. Wrapped in what seems to be a pvc jacket, not unlike the medical protective suits we currently see a lot. His outfit also contains sketches and scribbles of genitalia. Colours white and red, famously used in the medical field, also symbolizing purity, lust, sin and romance. He`s also wearing red earrings and cufflinks decorated with a more traditional depiction of cupid.

The gun on the other hand, knotted, could also be a nod to the Non-Violance sculpture by Carl Fredrik Reuterswärd, which is in New York. Perhaps a rather twisted musical reference, as that sculpture was made in remembrance of John Lennon. The seemingly unusable gun however, does hold a heart shaped scope through which the absent minded and complacent looking Cupid is aiming to find his next victims.

Enrolling the pigeons to take over the flying and firing arrows part, they soon after take flight once again and a montage of numerous pigeon shit landings are shown, including another drawn Animation of the pigeons` droppings turning into a falling human figurine. Perhaps falling, as in falling in Love, falling for you. Cupid bringing or rather dropping this person into your life. This sequence is concluded by acts of violence followed by tenderness. A slap, a hit, like when love “hits” you. Shortly followed by a gentle caress of the cheek, as though nothing ever happened. So in love that you`re not aware of the violence and force it potentially holds. Another short Animation, single flower turns into a tree, which transforms into a couple in love, a heart in the middle.

Act Three:

Cut to seagulls instead of doves above James. Perhaps accentuating him to be different from all others around him, once again emphasizing his role as flâneur? Or maybe it`s just a subtle teaser for his following music video for I`ll Come Too, which was the next release, featuring a penguin and an albatross.

The couples, still lit in red are holding hands, and then facing the camera. Every individual on their own, staring into the lens, or at their partner. Keeping the mirror in mind from the beginning, this is another very common way for cinema, film and video to become reflexive (film with self-awareness) challenging the viewer in their passiveness and voyeurism.

Still 05, Can`t Believe The Way We Flow, 2019.

The doves once again present by appearing as illustrations on the cushions of one couple. All the people involved appear in lettering over the faces of the couples, including a cameo by the director. Another beautifully added layer to this multimedia approach that lends it`s charm and texture to the entire complex romantic experience.

There`s so much more to see and discover in the video than what I have tried to contain in this analysis. I do hope you`ll go on a search yourselves. The video for James Blake`s song Cant Believe The Way We Flow is linked below:

youtube

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quarterfromcanon · 5 years

Text

Huzzah!

for @imunbreakabledude

Thank you for the wonderful idea generators you listed in your request; every single one served to spark some element of this piece and I had such a great time putting it together. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 Happy Valentine’s Day!

Word count: 3,820

Rating/content warnings: G. Mild swearing. No violence and nothing really sexual. Unless you count #archeryarms. They are quite powerful.

Relationships: Mostly general Gurl Group and co. in nature, but there may or may not be a little Rethaniel kernel planted here somewhere... ;)

Summary: Our beloved residents of West Covina take a trip north to engage in some Renaissance merriment.

Rebecca stood before the wall-length mirror and ran her fingers along the feather tucked above the brim of her hat. She adjusted the small tambourine tied to her waist and planted both hands on her hips.

"Well, fair ladies... or, should I say, RenFaire ladies, are we ready?"

A row of restroom stall latches slid aside and their doors swung wide to reveal the rest of the Gurl Group, all clad in their carefully selected costumes for the day. Rebecca bounced in place and clasped her hands under her chin.

A net beaded snood held all of Paula's beautiful red hair. An ornamental ruby brooch was fastened to the bodice of her ornate raspberry gown. She smoothed the fabric and held her head high, striking a pose.

Valencia repurposed the faux leather portion of her Bride of the Pirate King costume and fashioned it to be part of her falconer garb, complete with a Velcro wrist attachment featuring a tiny plush merlin fitted with a hood. A simple plait kept her field of vision clear with the added bonus of helping combat overheating. She twisted sideways and nodded approval at her reflection, pleased with the silhouette.

Heather had happily seized the opportunity to go as an archer, a set of garments she'd been assembling piece by piece ever since she started her continuing education class. Her hair was braided and bound together to reduce the risk of distracting strays. Many of her beloved camo greens were present in this ensemble, albeit separated into individual components of her attire. She moved to tuck her hands into her pockets, remembered that there weren't any, and instead hooked both thumbs through the belt.

The bridge of Rebecca's nose scrunched as she grinned. "Crushin' it. Fresno, here we come."

"Play us out, Cookie," Paula urged.

Rebecca scooped her lute - easily the most expensive item for her look since she had been adamant about carrying a functional instrument rather than a prop - off the countertop and strummed. Her gaze turned skyward as she left the rest stop bathroom attempting to generate lyrics on the spot.

"The countess doth my song request, I go at her courtly behest, and now I introduce four: there were none quite so resplendent, connected yet independent, trust me I'm the troubadour..."

Scott and Tommy were already waiting outside dressed as an earl and a squire, respectively. Tommy gave them all an appreciative thumbs up and Scott applauded. The latter strode over to Paula when she emerged. Scott bowed and then held out his hand. "My lady?" He gestured in the direction of their waiting minivan in an unspoken offer to escort her.

Paula smiled and accepted his outstretched palm. "Milord."

While they walked, Scott called over his shoulder. "I like the new ditty, Rebecca. Lotta info in a little time. Nice and snappy."

Rebecca waved an 'oh, stop' gesture, but she was unable to hide her delight in receiving positive feedback. "Thank you. I couldn't resist a little Danny Kaye tribute. I think it could work better if I ramp up the speed of my delivery, now that I've worked out the words."

Valencia flanked Paula on her other side and leaned in close to whisper, "What musical was she talking about?"

"No idea. It must've been before my time."

They loaded back into the vehicle, though with considerably greater difficulty given the added layers of their new outfits. Paula now had to sit in the middle with Rebecca to have room for her voluminous skirts. Scott took the driver seat in her stead, and Tommy sat beside him. Valencia detached the falcon from its perch and buckled it into the rear middle seat to keep it from sliding around on the drive. Heather observed this with quiet amusement. She patted the fake bird on the head. "Safety first."

The wardrobe-swapping pit stop in Tulare was only about forty minutes away from their final destination, a span of time which seemed to fly by after the previous three hours on the road. Eagerness for the festivities ahead reached a renewed high as the park finally came into view. Scott pulled up to the waiting staff member and exchanged pleasantries. He passed the young worker a bag of canned goods they'd brought to contribute to the faire's donation drive and then fished out his wallet to pay the parking and admission fee.

As soon as they exited the van, all the sights and sounds swept them into the action. There were myriad tents on either side of the path that wove through the trees. Bakers, potters, and weavers sold their wares; blacksmiths hammered hot metal atop anvils, and a cheerful tune drifted from a shelter housing a trio of professional musicians. The food court beckoned with the scent of cakes, pies, meats, and sandwiches. Their first quarter of an hour passed simply drifting from one table of offerings to the next, admiring everything and strategizing how they would spend their money later.

Once they'd gotten a general sense of the lay of the land, Rebecca began walking backward to face the group at large and clapped her hands together. "Okay, time to get the party started. Where to first? Birthday girls' choice. Heather? Paula?"

Heather pulled a face. "That's not gonna be how you introduce us all day, is it? You're gonna confuse everybody since it's not, like, actually either of our birthdays. Not even close."

"Okay, true," Rebecca conceded, "but 'a November day that happens to fall almost squarely in the middle between the two and on a weekend we could all ask off work' is a mouthful to explain to strangers."

"Or we could just try, y'know, not sharing any details of our personal life with the RenFaire performers?" Heather suggested with a sarcastic shrug.

"But then none of them will sing you a period-appropriate song or raise a celebratory cheer." Rebecca pouted.

Heather nodded with satisfaction. "Exactly."

"Verily, thou art a most obstinate addle-plot," Rebecca remarked with a sigh.

"Oooh, are we doing the olde timey talk now?" Paula brightened. "I've been practicing for this."

"Aye, good lady," Rebecca confirmed and linked their arms. "I believe the hour is upon us!"

Just like that, all lighthearted squabbling was forgotten. Rebecca and Paula joyfully riffed off one another using every medieval and Renaissance vocab word they could recall. They even dusted off their questionable English accents for an added layer of "authenticity." Tommy and Heather exchanged glances at some of the inventive word choices, having acquired a passing familiarity with the correct terms on their individual visits to similar faires, but they let the giggling duo indulge in their antics.

A short while later, they stumbled upon another tent of interest, which appeared to be dedicated to wood carving. There were wall hangings, placards, canes, birdhouses, and countless other novelty handcrafted objects. One rather simple looking cube with hinges on the corner of a table caught Rebecca's attention. She plucked it up for closer inspection. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips when she saw the lion rampant carved into the surface of the lid. She pried the box open with her thumb and gasped.

"Aww, there's a little compass inside! I wonder how much this would cost to send to Na--" Rebecca dragged out the first syllable of the name, realizing too late that she'd spoken the thought aloud. "--antucket. I've got a cousin out there who might enjoy it for... scout hikes."

She nodded perhaps a little too emphatically at the end of this improvised statement. Her eyes flicked from one companion's face to the next to see if they bought the cover story. The reactions were unanimously not in her favor.

"You were about to say Nathaniel." Paula gave Rebecca a reassuring nudge. "Sweetheart, you don't have to hide it from us. We've known for weeks that you two have been writing back and forth to each other. I accidentally used one of his envelopes as a coaster when you invited me over to hear a few works in progress."

"Yeah, and you stowed another letter behind Estrella's tank," Heather added. "Which is literally transparent so..."

"Having a pen pal is actually kind of perfect for you," Valencia said. "You're the only person I've ever known who bought stationery as a souvenir."

"It has been nice, keeping in touch," Rebecca admitted. "We're in different countries, both staying introspective and working on ourselves, but I think we've gotten to a place where we can check in on each other without undoing all the positive growth." She turned the compass over between her fingers and then held it out for the other women to inspect. "Do you think he'd like it?"

Heather's head tilted to the side. "Exclusive product ... a little pretentious but still practical... prominently features an animal you could find in a zoo... Sounds like a match from what I remember about him."

"Plus, it's kinda symbolic, y'know? Like he can use it because he's surrounded by wilderness but he's also finding his way," Rebecca explained. "This could be a memento to commemorate that."

She removed the wad of bills from the change purse on her belt and separated the necessary amount listed on the sticker. Once the compass was officially in her possession, Rebecca swung the bag back and forth, considering what a nuisance it would be to have that hanging from her wrist for the rest of the day. She nonchalantly turned a sharp corner as they left the tent. There, she discretely tucked the remaining dollars into her bra and stashed Nathaniel's gift in her former cash pouch.

The others were gathered around the pamphlet guide now open in Paula's hands when she returned.

"Looks like a lot of the big events are in the afternoon," Heather noticed.

"Count me in for the show where the guy swallows fire." Tommy tapped the corresponding spot on the park map.

"And we're getting funnel cake later, right?" Rebecca pointed to Paula and then back at herself.

"Oh, of course," Paula readily agreed. "It's quintessential fairground food."

"Don't forget the giant turkey legs!" Scott added, already scanning the large painted menus in the distance so he could make a beeline to that station once they were ready to eat.

Valencia looked ill at the mention and returned her attention to the accessory booth she'd drifted toward while the others spoke. She held up two pieces she might purchase and frowned thoughtfully. Heather plucked a small standing mirror off the display table and held it for her while she considered each necklace in the sunlight.

A faint buzz sounded from Valencia's satchel. She angled her body so the jewelry could rest against her chest without sliding off and then rummaged for her phone. "Ah, crap."

"Who is it?" Heather prompted.

"Darryl with the five thousandth Pinterest idea for his Blended Family Unity Ceremony. I thought the point was to do something simple and sentimental, once they decided they didn't want all the hassle and planning of another wedding in their lifetime. April seemed in favor of that. But Darryl's gone down an Internet-ing rabbit hole and can't be stopped. I thought the ceremony itself might clock in at twenty minutes at most, when they first brought it to me."

"Oh, my sweet summer child." Rebecca shook her head as she tuned in to the conversation.

Valencia’s shoulders sagged and she grimaced. "I know. Joke's on me. At this point, I'd recommend the guests just clear their schedule for the whole day. This latest concept involved a giant canvas and finger painting so... wear something you don't care about."

A collective groan rippled through the group. It was confessed, however, that they all expected at least one genuinely tear-jerking moment, given Darryl's fierce and unwavering attachment to each person who would be in attendance.

The six of them then followed the map to briefly observe a staged sword fight and a live joust. Paula and Rebecca reminisced over A Knight's Tale and lamented the fact that more stories depicting the era did not include extended dance and/or musical numbers.

"With the obvious exception of The Court Jester, of course," Rebecca said.

Paula gave a vague nod, smile locked in place but eyes blinking rapidly. "Right. Sure bet it does."

"You've never seen it, have you?"

"I'm not even sure if it's a play or a movie." Paula offered an apologetic wince. "You're sorta my primary go-to when I need to understand these kinds of references. I don't have the head space for it."

"I mean, a first watch is definitely something we need to remedy on a weekend soon but, given that I have three decades of passionate devotion to the art form, I get what you mean." Rebecca patted her lute fondly.

They stopped by the wooden ship stationed on the grass where actors dressed as pirates interacted with the crowd and set off small cannons. Then the group advanced toward the last thing on their list of pre-meal activities, which was to watch one of the live shows. The uproarious energy there sparked a sudden idea. Rebecca took extensive notes on her phone, deciding to flesh out her earlier improvised song into a full number to capture the vibe of the faire.

Afterward, they all left the seating in front of the stage and headed toward the food court. The sound of drums diverted their attention along the way and they searched for its source. A small gathering of belly dancers circled on a stretch of open lawn. Rebecca began nodding her head in time with the drum beat, but the motion stilled as she studied the trained and toned muscles undulating beneath the nearest dancer's skin. The woman stood out among her peers as not only being adept at the style but possessing a kind of theatrical charisma. She noticed her new audience and winked.

Rebecca tugged off her troubadour's hat and fanned herself. "Damn, that level of confidence is sexy."

Eventually, watching half a dozen stomachs reminded them of their rumbling own. With some reluctance, they finally moved along. At last, it was time for their much-anticipated lunch. Scott immediately purchased his coveted turkey leg and ale, both of which he enjoyed while the others mulled over their dining options. As they scanned the stands, the girls spied a large kiln not far away and recognized a familiar dish in the shadows.

Rebecca pressed a hand to her middle. "Okay, I know it's not the kind of thing you can only get at the faire, but I need that pizza in me."

"Seconded." Tommy joined his honorary sister in staring at the melting cheese.

Once everyone had a plate, they found a place to sit at one of the wooden tables. Paula dusted some of the powdered sugar from the funnel cake off her fingers with a napkin and leaned toward Heather, who was stationed diagonally across from her.

"So, I haven't seen you much since fall break ended. How's grad school going?"

"The marine biology coursework combined with the kind of work that gives me money is kicking my ass but, like, in a good way. Especially since so much of it involves trips to the beach."

"I really admire you for going back, and for finding an area of study that would let you take so many fun field trips," Paula praised.

Valencia caught Heather's eye and beamed. "Well-played, professor."

While everyone ate, they unfolded the map again atop their table. They scanned the times for where each person wanted to go between noon and dusk when the event would close. A second-half schedule was established and they prepared to seek out the first stop. Before doing so, however, Paula opened her phone's camera for a picture. Rebecca rounded everyone else up for the photo.

"Prithee, gather ye round the magic picture box. Lady Proctor wouldst appreciate the opportunity to capture our likeness and preserve the memory."

They wrapped their arms around each other and leaned into frame, looking respectably at home before a backdrop of other costumed faire-goers. Paula showed them all the end result before turning it back to herself and grinning at the image. "Perfect."

First on the listed activities was the archery contest. Heather rarely had an occasion to utilize her champion level skills as a bowman, so this chance was too good to skip. The competitors formed a line before their targets.

"Make ye ready!" the announcer cried. "Draw! Aim! Loose!"

Heather's shot found its mark and embedded in the bullseye. Her companions clapped and whooped.

Rebecca watched her nock the following arrow and line it up for release. "She's got a whole Keira Knightley in Princess of Thieves look going for her today."

The second arrowhead pierced a hair's breadth from the first.

"I think it's kinda doing it for me."

Valencia nodded. Her eyelids crinkled at the corners while she regarded Rebecca with curiosity. "Are you having some sort of Renaissance awakening?"

"TBD. Check back in with me later. Kinsey scale rating may need an update."

Heather’s final arrow was dead center. The announcer declared her the winner and the visitors from West Covina alarmed everyone nearby with the shouts that erupted from them. They surged forward to embrace and congratulate her. Heather awkwardly allowed herself to be jostled by her circle of friends. She exuded discomfort but, when they all formed a group hug, she did not squirm away.

After that landslide victory, next up was a demonstration with a trebuchet. The impressively tall apparatus cut through the air and launched pumpkins at a makeshift castle wall. Tommy was ecstatic. He fished out his phone to record a video. "Brendan would love this. I've gotta send it to him."

At the mention of her eldest son, Paula's lower lip protruded sympathetically. "Do you miss your big brother knight, squire?"

Tommy tried to feign indifference, but the shift of his shoulders couldn't hide the expression that flickered across his face. "A little, I guess."

"Aww, pumpkin," Paula cooed. She hooked him toward her with one arm and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Me, too."

"Hey, careful with the mom smooches," Tommy cautioned. "Girls might not talk to me if they see I've already got a lipstick mark on my face."

Paula licked her finger and wiped off the traces. The boy allowed the assistance with resignation. "Okay, yeah, I did sorta set myself up for that one," Tommy muttered.

Somewhere in the crowd, a recognizable voice caught their attention.

"Just a minute, Amari. It's Agila's turn. Baba can't hold both of you on his shoulders at the same time. Somebody might fall... most likely me."

Paula stood on tiptoe and waved. "Sunil! Sunil, over here!"

Rebecca heard the name and slumped. "Great. This guy."

Sunil wove his way toward them, holding one of his daughters’ hands on each side. "Why, hello! Fancy meeting you here!"

He drew up short when he spotted Rebecca. "Bunch."

Rebecca arched her eyebrows. "Odhav."

"So, how are you liking the RenFaire so far?" Paula asked, interrupting the showdown.

"We're having a blast. The girls rode the giant unicorn. They said it would've been better if it were a pegasus but, hey, next best thing, right? We've caught three shows already. Really resurrects the old acting bug. And I'm still on a shopper's hunt for a crystal chalice with a palace. As we all know, it 'holds the brew that is true,' and I could really use the pick-me-up after four hours of bickering toddlers." Sunil chuckled at his own humor. Paula weakly attempted to do the same, lost.

Rebecca snapped to attention at the reference. Unable to help herself, she interjected, "Yeah, those can be pretty fragile. You might be better off getting a vessel with a pestle."

Surprised, but pleasantly so, Sunil's expression warmed. "You've seen The Court Jester."

"Oh my gosh, yes!" Rebecca's eyes went comically wide with fervor. "I've been talking about it all day. I must've watched that at least twenty times as a kid."

"How could you not? It's a classic."

Sunil gleefully launched into another quote. "'What are you loo-loo-looing about?’”

Rebecca was ready with the rejoinder. "'Oh, I'm not loo-loo-looing, sire, I'm willow-willow-wailing.'"

Sunil responded with a kingly wave of dismissal. "'All right, all right. Willow away, willow away.'"

They cackled.

"Dear God," Paula murmured, but she was visibly grateful her usually adversarial friends were getting along.

"There are two of them," Valencia joked affectionately.

Sunil rubbed his hands together. "Listen, we were about to track down that lesson on how to do a courtly dance. Would all of you like to join us?"

This proposal was met with general agreement (although Heather required a little additional convincing to accept the prospect of participation). They reached the designated area just as instructions began. Most of the dance took part in a large group but, for the small section where those involved were expected to break off into pairs, they planned ahead for who would dance with whom. The combinations ultimately turned out to be Paula and Scott, Heather and Valencia, Tommy with both Amari and Agila, and - in a truce that would've been inconceivable prior to that instant - Rebecca and Sunil.

As all the gathered dancers moved in a great circle, Rebecca took the opportunity to look at each of her loved ones in turn. The chances to enjoy hours with everyone like this sometimes proved rare and difficult to orchestrate, but shared moments of laughter and fun such as these made it infinitely worth the effort.

She turned to Heather on her left and gave the other woman's hand a teasing squeeze. "Having a good time after all?"

"I'll live," Heather answered simply, but Rebecca knew her well enough to detect the truth beneath her nonchalance. "What about you? You've been sending us a pre-trip countdown for, like, a full month leading up to this. Is it holding up to the hype?"

"Hundo P," Rebecca replied. "Ugh, it works when Maya says it but I think there might be too much of a generational divide for me to pull that off. In other news, I might be bi?"

Heather's laugh huffed out on an exhale. "Congrats on figuring that out. Welcome to the club. Darryl will make you a t-shirt."

"Thanks. I'm gonna need your out-and-proud advice later to sift through this brand new information, but it feels like I'm onto something."

"Anytime."

"So, calendar date notwithstanding, has this been a good birthday?" Rebecca asked hopefully.

Heather's lips twitched. "I'd let you talk me into it again."

In time with the music, Rebecca twirled in a circle and her friends all blurred together in her vision. A soft smile spread across her face. She thought she could safely declare this day a win.

#CEG Writing By Me #crazyexvalentineexchange #imunbreakabledude

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