#there is something so delicious about your art style ach

[sabababa]

You give them a prostate orgasm headcanons

Hawks, Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, Mirio Togata, Shota Aizawa x GenderNeutral!Reader

Author’s note: Please use lube when playing with people’s butts and don’t touch any genitals with a hand that’s been up a butt, thanks for coming to my ted talk ALSO THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLLOWERS

Warnings: Cursing, smut, dom!reader, sub!characters, pegging (if you’re a uterus owner), a single spank (Hawks receiving), some smutty pics I drew

Hawks

Doggy style

“Fuck, Lovebird, you’re gonna ruin my insides!” Hawks panted out in ecstasy as his front dropped against the sheets

You pounded into him from behind as you got a beautiful view of his ass jiggling each time your hips snapped against him

You set a brutal pace being egged on at the sight before you, and at hearing the wonderful moans that would leave his sinful mouth

“Fuck! Don’t stop~” He mewled as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his hands gripping the sheets tight as he felt you go deeper each time

His prostate received a lot of attention in this position and he started to feel something swell within him

“Fuck, Lovebird, I’m gonna cum!” He whined, giving you pleading eyes to help him reach his climax, to keep fucking him

It was hard to grip his hips from behind, so you had to settle for gripping his ass cheeks as leverage to pull him against you

He let out a low moan at feeling your fingers dig into his skin, a slap to the rear caused his ass to jump up in surprise to meet in time with a thrust that would send him over the edge

“Aaaahhhhhh! Fuck!” He moaned out as his head jerked up and his wings fanned out to their full length

You did one last thrust and kept yourself inside him to let him ride out his orgasm as he grinded against you

His body convulsed and shivered, his ass wiggled against you as he kept letting out deep, guttural moans

You felt his heels dig into your thighs as his toes curled, his legs pulling you impossibly closer to him as his body kept shaking

His wings twitched and shuddered along with him, occasionally flapping from the extraordinary feeling coursing through him

He pushed against you to the point you almost lost your balance since he caused the bed to shake as well

You pushed back and he let out a wail of pleasure

“Fuuuuuuuck, right there~” His tongue rolled out his mouth as he felt your length press into his swollen prostate to intensify the feeling

(Art belongs to me, please do not repost)

It was like he had an orgasm over and over again, all he could focus on was the high as his vision was blurry and unfocused from his eyes constantly rolling to the back of his head as he tried to come down from it, but it was too fucking good to ignore

He shook a few more times before his body finally went limp, his muscles relaxed and his wings fell to his sides

You slowly pulled out of him which caused him to let out a groan from the loss, his ass twitched and jolted up when your tip left, you thought he would cum again

But then you noticed he never came at all, there was no mess beneath him and he was still hard

“You alright, Hawks?” You asked as you sat beside him, worried that you didn’t actually please him

“nev’ bet’r,” he slurred and rolled onto his back. He let out a small gasp at feeling the pressure of his rear touch the bed and his hips jolted up slightly before calming down again

An arm came up to rest over his eyes as he tried to catch his breath

“Are you really okay?” You pressed again, you had never seen him look so winded before

“Baby,” he began and pulled his arm away from his eyes to look at you, “you rocked my world, best orgasm of my fucking life,” he moaned at the memory and his hips jerked up a bit when his body twitched from the leftover stimulation

“But you didn’t cum?” You asked confused

He chuckled at your naivety. “You gave me a prostate orgasm, Lovebird, first one in fact, didn’t think I’d ever experience it.” He rested a hand behind his head and lifted his other arm to offer his side to you

You gladly crawled over to him and rested your head against his chest, careful to avoid laying on his wing, and you could hear his heart still beating fast

A big smile was on your face as you felt a sense of pride for pleasing your man so well

He wrapped a hand around your shoulder and squeezed you as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “When I can feel my legs again, I’ll return the favor~”

(Art belongs to me, please do not repost)

Izuku Midoriya

Missionary

Izuku threw his head back when you picked up your pace

His head made contact with the pillow as he moaned out

Your hands grasped his hips as you pounded into him, hitting a very sweet spot inside him over and over

He couldn’t stop the moans and whimpers that escaped his mouth as he felt the tip rub against his already swollen prostate

You gave him permission to stroke his aching cock long ago, but his hands gripped the pillow behind him as he was lost in the pleasure

His eyes were half-lidded and they started to roll back into his head as he felt something coil in his stomach

His breathing picked up and he closed his eyes when he started to feel the familiar climax building up

But a different feeling passed through him as his eyes flew open and the most delicious moan left his lips

“Aaaaaaahhhhhh~” He dug his feet into the bed, toes curled, and caused both your hips to be raised from the bed

You stopped your thrusting and bottomed out inside him, your hands gripped him close as you saw his body shudder and convulse

His legs shivered as you tried to hold him steady against you, his hands flew from the pillow to grasp your arms as he kept shaking from the intensity

That was when you noticed his cock was still hard, but nothing was coming out as his hips would jolt forward, rocking against the member sheathed inside him

You were too entranced by the way his body rattled to even think about jerking him off and from the way he held onto you, he didn’t care about it either

Izuku kept letting out moans as he shook from the pleasure wracking his body

He had never felt anything like it before. It was an intense feeling, like he was having multiple orgasms coursing through his body all at once

He let out one last whimper as his body finally stopped convulsing

Both of your bodies fell against the bed again as you panted to catch your breaths

“You okay, Izu?” You asked as you pulled out, his hands still holding your arms

His body would twitch slightly at the tiniest of movements as he tried to control his breathing

“W-what was that?” His eyes were closed as he panted out. His hands fell to your wrists; his fingers were still wrapped around them, but his grip was loose now

You slipped your hands into his and intertwined your fingers. “I think I just gave you a prostate orgasm,” you said with a sly smile

You felt some pride that you were able to reduce your boyfriend to a shivering mess, that oragasm looked intense and pleasurable, you were jealous honestly

“Can you do it again?” He looked at you with half-lidded eyes. A pleased smile on his face as he was still coming down from the high

You chuckled and climbed over him to give him a sweet kiss. “How about I actually make you cum this time?”

(Art belongs to me, please do not repost)

Katsuki Bakugou

Cowboy

“Fuck, why does it have to be so big?” Katsuki groaned out and attempted to hide it as a complaint, he really was enjoying himself, but he wouldn’t let you have that satisfaction

He continued to ride you, letting out small moans and grunts

He mostly grinded himself down on your length, not wanting to look too eager. After all, he was the dominant one in this situation

No, he wasn’t, and you gladly showed him that

You jerked your hips up which caused Katsuki to let out a shocked moan. “Ah!”

You smirked as you placed your hands on his hips, making him grind deeper into his core

“F-fuuuuck...” He said under his breath as his eyes fluttered closed, he hoped you didn’t hear him, but you did

Your smirked widened as you grinded your hips upward to meet his

“Fuck!” He moaned out fully and leaned forward as his hands rested on the bed at your sides

“You’re such a good boy, Suki” You said sweetly as you slowly grinded up into him, not a hint of mockery in your tone

You saw his eyes roll back into his head before they closed, he let out a small grunt at the stimulation. You almost had him

“Always my sweet boy,” you confirmed and rolled your hips

His breath hitched, but he kept his eyes squeezed shut

“You’re so pretty for me, Suki, such a good, sweet, pretty, boy.” You mused as you used your fingers to pull his chin forward. He leaned into your touch, which caused him to slightly raise up from your length

You snapped your hips up into him and he finally let out a loud moan when his eyes flew open

“Fuck!” He gasped. 

“Will you be my good boy now?” You asked innocently as you held his face in your hands

“I-I’ll be your good boy,” he moaned out as he grinded against you, preparing to fully ride you

Ladies and gentlemen, we got him

He leaned back and placed his hands on your thighs as he started fucking himself on your member, at a rather fast pace

He was always such a good boy~

His moans filled the room as he continued to spear himself on your length, feeling it pound against his already swelling prostate

It caused his pace to falter at the pleasant feeling, but you wouldn’t let him have a moment’s rest

You reached out to pull his arms forward, which stopped his ministrations

He panted as you gripped his wrists with both your hands and started to mercilessly thrust into him

“FuUuUuUuUuck!” His voice vibrated with your thrusts and he threw his head back in ecstasy, your hands holding his wrists helped balance you both as you fucked up into his tight hole

His eyes rolled back into his head and he let a wide, open smile make it’s way onto his face as you pounded his ass, drool dribbled down the side of his mouth as he was lost in the pleasure

He felt the familiar swelling building up inside him

“I-I’m gonna cum!” He moaned out happily

His body shook violently and it caused him to fall over onto your form

You did one last thrust and buried yourself inside him to let him ride out his orgasm

He shuddered aggressively against you, his thighs squeezed your sides as he kept humping you. His arms snaked underneath to your back and he dug his nails into your skin, leaving love scratches

He continued to convulse and he hid his face in your neck as he whimpered and groaned into your ear. 

It felt like he was cumming repeatedly, but not actually cumming, just the sensation of it, it repeated itself over and over as he sobbed from euphoria. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

His hips kept jerking against your member as his body spasmed, it added and refueled the delight he was feeling

His body was wracked with pleasure and it sent goosebumps across his skin at the unfamiliar sensation, his toes curled as he rolled against your length one last time

He continued to twitch as he calmed down from his high, his hips kept jerking forward from the leftover stimulation, he wasn’t ready to give the feeling away just yet

As he continued to shiver against you, you pulled out of him and he let out a whine near your ear

You could still feel that his cock was hard as it twitched between your stomachs, but noticed he never actually came

He panted as he sat up slightly to look at you, his thighs and hips still twitching

“The fuck was that?” He grunted out in his normal tone, a scowl on his face, along with a blush from embarrassment as he never had an experience like that before

“I just gave you a prostate orgasm,” you said cheekily and rubbed your hands on his rear, pushing his cheeks together to give pressure to his pucker

He jerked his hips forward with a sharp inhale of breath before he growled down at you as a warning

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it!” You laughed and rubbed his back soothingly

“Tch,” he scoffed and wrapped his arms back around your form, nuzzling his face into your neck and you felt him pout. “Never said I didn’t, Dumbass.”

(Art belongs to me, please do not repost)

Mirio Togata

Flatiron

Mirio gripped the pillow tight against him and smothered his face it in as your pace became rougher

“Fuck, Sunshine,” he moaned out, “you really know what you’re doing.”

Your hands gripped his ass tighter as you continued to drive your length into his tight pucker

“You’re doing so good, Sunshine!” He praised with a euphoric smile on his face

One thing about Mirio is that he loved to praise, no matter what position he was in. It never failed to give you a confidence boost to try some bolder moves with him

His prostate swelled from the pleasure as you continued to ravish him

“That feels so good~” He purred as he closed his eyes and nuzzled the pillow while he panted

You took the chance to press your front to his back, lying against his sweaty form

His muscles twitched at the change and he let out a long moan at how much deeper you went

“You’re so deep, Sunshine!” He said breathlessly as he felt your member grind against his swollen prostate

You resumed your rough pace and he jerked his head up as he let out a series of moans

“Don’t stop, Sunshine! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” His words were muffled as his face fell into the pillow again

He felt a tightening in his stomach as you continued your ruthless pace, you brought your hands to rest on top of his and intertwined your fingers, he squeezed yours tightly

“Make me cum, Sunshine!” He moaned with a smile at the pleasurable feeling. “Fucking make me cum!” He moaned out desperately that time

His breathing quickened as he felt his release come close

But then he held his breath as his body shook violently at this new feeling

You gave one last hard thrust seeing him quiver and let him ride it out as he shivered against you

He raised his rear off the bed as he kept shaking and then dropped it back down, causing your length to bounce against him and poke his prostate

He finally took a breath in at the sensation and his legs spasmed before bending and locking you against him

Mirio’s back arched as he pushed his ass up again, his toes curled at feeling how much deeper you went

He let out a series of high and breathy moans, as the climax surged through his body, making his limbs tremble and spasm as he didn’t know what to do with them

This new orgasm he felt was so amazing, he couldn’t get enough of it, he wanted more from his Sunshine, he wanted to feel like this all the time. Shivers up and down his spine, the vibrations of an orgasm wreaking his body, the sensation of multiple releases, it was mind-breaking

His body finally stopped convulsing and he rested flat against the bed again with a content sigh, his legs dropped and went limp, parts of him twitched every now and then

He laid his head on the pillow and panted, his eyes closed, a groan left his lips when you pulled out

His fingers still squeezed yours as the last of the orgasm was still pulsing through him, it kept him grounded as he rode out the high

“You okay, Miri?” You whispered and rested your chin on his shoulder

He cracked his eyes open and gave you a weak, but blissful, smile. “That was amazing, Sunshine,” he said breathlessly, “I just- I need a minute.”

His eyes closed again when his hips jerked forward once, a ghost feeling of the climax still there, he let out a high, but short moan. “Ah~”

“That was different,” you commented quietly, still resting against him

“Yeah,” he grunted at the memory, “you just gave me my first prostate orgasm!” He managed to get a chuckle out

“Is that what that was?” Your eyes widened a fraction

“Yep!” He popped the ‘p’ at the end. “And a damn good one!” He mused and gave you a lustful stare

“Give me another minute and I’ll get even with you!” He winked

(Art belongs to me, please do not repost)

Shota Aizawa

Prostate Massage

Aizawa let out a small grunt as you continued to push two fingers in and out of him

The pads would press against his prostate each time they entered and it caused his thighs to twitch every time

Your mouth was just above his tight pucker, lightly sucking and licking the sensitive skin underneath his sack, while your other hand used it’s thumb to press small circles into the spot where his thigh and groin met; sending a tingle up his spine

You were purposefully avoiding his cock, you even gave him orders to not touch it either, so his hands were stuck up top by his head

His cock was red and achingly hard, pre-cum dribbling out the tip

“Fuck,” he hissed as you sped up your pace, his prostate painfully swollen from the teasing. “Can I please touch myself?” His voice was strained, not wanting it to sound too much like begging

“Mm-mm,” you dismissed him and the vibrations of your voice against his skin sent a shiver up his spine

“Damn it,” he growled underneath his breath in annoyance

He decided that the next best thing he could do to get himself off was to grind against you

His hips came forward and it caused your fingers to slip deeper inside him 

“Ngh!” He groaned at the feeling and halted his hips

You pulled your face away from his groin, a smirk on your lips. “You wanna fuck yourself on my fingers?” You teased

He set himself up on his elbows as he looked down at you

“Can I?” He mocked as his brow twitched in annoyance, he wasn’t used to being the submissive one

“Go ahead,” you leaned an arm on his leg as your head rested in your hand

He gave you a suspicious stare as he slowly rocked his hips forward, not fully trusting you to keep your fingers in place 

But when your fingers pressed against his prostate, you did a light ‘come here’ motion with the tips of your digits

Aizawa groaned again and he fell back against the bed as he continued to pleasure himself against your fingers

You bit your lips as you kept watching him buck against your pointer and middle, it was a sight to behold

You then pulled the bottle of lube back out, quietly opening it and coating your fingers in it, especially the third one

Right as he went to rock forward again, you inserted the third finger

He gasped and let out a deep groan, almost like a growl, his hips stuttered from the stretch, but continued none the less

You decided to pick up the pace and fuck your fingers back into him, causing them to go deeper than before

His hands flew up above his head to grip the sheets as he grunted at the feeling, your fingers prodding his prostate each time they thrusted in

He felt the familiar sensations of his orgasm approaching, a swelling feeling within him

“I’m gonna cum!” He gasped out. “Can I cum?” He pleaded, hoping you wouldn’t leave him high and dry

“Go ahead, Tom cat,” You thrusted your fingers harder against his prostate

His body convulsed as the orgasmic sensations vibrated through him, his legs spasmed before he tightly wrapped them around you to pull you closer, your fingers pressing against his p-spot to help him ride out his high

He thrashed against the sheets as his rear would rise up and then fall back down, then his head leaned back against the bed to prop his body more as his back arched

Low groans kept getting caught him his throat as he choked on air each time he trembled

It felt like multiple orgasms happening all at once, but his cock wasn’t cumming, he was still hard as he felt another wave shudder through him

His toes curled as his thighs twitched and he bucked his hips against your fingers

Finally, with one last shiver, he eased down from his high and let out a deep breath, but still panted slightly

You pulled your fingers out and kept that hand away as you crawled on top of him

His hair clung to his forehead from the sweat, his cheeks rosy as you watched him pant to regain his breath

“Did you just...” He breathed out, not having enough energy to finish his question

“Give you a prostate orgasm? Yes, I did,” you grinned and moved some hair out of his face with your clean hand. “Did it feel good?” You asked genuinely

He nodded, his eyes closed as his breathing finally calmed. “Felt amazing...” he mumbled and then drifted off to sleep

You only chuckled at him and gave him a tender kiss on the cheek. “Sweet dreams, Sleeping beauty.”

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Masterlist

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 19: Chou

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Heyo, it's that time. Update time! One more Lao chapter after this. I'm ready for more DRAMA tho, delicious drama. Hope you're all doing well! I'm going to be out of town from the 9-15 but you shouldn't notice my absence since I'm preparing stuff to post before then bwahaha. NEW stories soon? Yes. Lots of planning so far. Much love. Sorry this is all over the place LOL. Kung Lao makin you even more confused, my lawd. Update on Tuesday!

Part 18 Part 20 Chapter Index

You returned to the stone path where you found tables had been setup to share with the other guests. Food had been setup nearby buffet style for a fee. You paid, grabbed your plates, and then took your seats amongst the others in attendance. With the exception of a handful of friends on a trip, they were all couples. A woman with short-cropped hair and dark eyes waved at Kung Lao excitedly. Her significant other offered a smile, then turned back to his food, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Oh, great, Kung Lao had made friends that morning.

“We saved you a seat!” She said once you were within earshot.

“She saved us a seat, Kung Lao.” You spoke just for him to hear, faking a smile.

“That was nice.” He urged his free arm around your shoulder and you sighed. Fake date or affection. Probably fake date. Were you winning? What were the rules to this game? Kung Lao sat down and made room for you to sit between him and the stranger. “Y/N, this is Sayuri and her boyfriend Kioshi. This is my girlfriend, Y/N.” It sounded awkward. Good. This was going great.

“Nice to meet you.” You bowed your head politely but couldn’t have felt more forced. Sayuri didn’t seem to notice. You could smell plum wine in her glass. It was extremely potent. If Chen were there, she would have spiked your drink, you were certain. Thank god for small favors. The good news was that Kung Lao could talk about anything to anyone and so you didn’t have to. They talked and you thought about other things while pushing your food around on your plate. It looked good. Really good. But you weren’t very hungry.

Your thoughts lingered on that kiss. It had escalated so damn quickly and you’d lost track of everything else. Just when you thought you had things figured out, Kung Lao had thrown you for a loop. You weren’t sure you’d ever forget how much you’d felt like a flower, petals slowly opening up just for him. Ugh. You couldn’t think about it. Focus, Y/N, focus. Kung Lao was animatedly recalling some adventure he’d gotten into in China with Liu Kang. Occasionally he patted your shoulder or nudged you and mentioned you which you returned in kind or smiled to acknowledge. Had to play the part, you supposed.

From what you could tell, hiding places would be in short supply. Much of the caldera was empty and flat. You supposed that behind the entrance gate would work. You could make short work of those walls between the two of you. That would work and it was a much better thing to focus on than the deep ache inside of you when you thought about Kung Lao’s kiss and calling you his girlfriend. How were you going to erase the guilt of breaking into a Buddhist Temple and desecrating it? You didn’t feel good about it at all. Maybe the truth would still work.

It wasn’t like you had a choice at this point. Whatever was in that well you had to get so you would do what it took. Ugh, you were going to end up being arrested at this rate.

Then, Kung Lao was stealing a pepper off your plate with his chopsticks. “Hey!” You scolded him and Sayuri giggled next to you.

“That’s what you get for not paying attention to my stories.” He ate the pepper with a grin. Even the way he ate was attractive. How incredibly unfair.

“Listen, you talk a lot, Kung Lao.” You batted your eyelashes at him playfully and the others at the table laughed. Kung Lao was going to make a snide remark, but you picked up one of the pork buns from your plate and shoved it right into his mouth. He coughed and gagged on it and you couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous he was. He took a bite of the bun and then set the rest of it on his plate but was smiling. “See. You talk too much. Going to choke on your food.”

“Jokes on you. I was going to steal that next.” Kung Lao took another purposeful bite out of it. Sayuri tapped your shoulder, cheeks red with drink and then she bowed politely. You had forgotten that most of the people there likely didn’t speak Chinese. You were kind of thankful for the language barrier.

“How long have you two been dating? Kioshi and I have been together for six months. This is our first big getaway together.” Sayuri smiled brightly and nudged Kioshi who slipped an arm around her proudly. Then he whispered something to her in Japanese before getting up and leaving her alone with you. She was sweet enough but you did not know how to answer that question. You and Kung Lao had not discussed any details about your cover. This was exactly why you hated lying. It was too messy. To keep up with the lie you had to keep lying and so things fell apart so easily. You had not thought this through.

“I… umm…”

Much to your surprise, Kung Lao slipped his arm around your waist and urged you to scoot closer to him. It took every single muscle in your body not to swat at him like you usually did. “We go way back.” He sounded natural. Effortless. “I’ve known her since she was… this high?” He used his other hand to gesture just above the height of the low table. He’d been awfully ready with that response.

“Oh, that’s so sweet! Childhood sweethearts? Did you know that you’d end up together even back then?”

“Umm…” You really were terrible at this but Kung Lao wasn’t. It made you wonder how much of this was actually a lie to him.

“We were like ten when we first started hanging out so I was just a dumb kid who didn’t understand any of that. I knew that I liked her but didn’t know what to do about it.” He shrugged and leaned close to your cheek as if to give you a kiss there and you leaned away and scrunched up your face so much that he instead laughed and buried his head against your shoulder.

“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.” Sayuri giggled into her glass of plum wine. You turned to look at Kung Lao. He lifted his head and his eyes flitted back to yours.

“You’re terrible at this.”

“I am so terrible at this.” You were grateful for the language barrier more than ever.

Kioshi returned with a tray that held a familiar liquor bottle and small equally familiar glasses for sake. Your stomach dropped. “Drinks all around! New friends and the Autumn Festival.” He began to place the glasses in front of each of the guests.

“Oh, no, no…” You bowed and pushed the small cup away in rejection. “No alcohol for me tonight.” This was starting to feel more and more like an actual date you’d gone on with Kung Lao without even realizing it. It was hitting all the notes. Cute trip to a foreign place. Cute meal. Intimate conversation. You’d even made out a little. This was not supposed to be a pleasure trip. Also, and more importantly, you were not dating Kung Lao.

And you had kissed Liu Kang, so this was too complicated. No liquor! You could hear Chen in the back of your mind, telling you to drink, telling you to lower your inhibitions and just pick right up where you’d left off in the shrine.

“That’s probably for the best.” Kung Lao pushed his cup away too.

“Come on. Just one? For luck!” Sayuri pouted, pushing your cups back toward you.

“She won’t let it go until you do.” Kioshi chimed in. The rest of the occupants at the table were taking the cups gratefully with a bow as they were filled. It suddenly felt rude to turn down the drink so you took your cup back with a sigh. You supposed one drink would be fine. Then again, with the blood thinning problem, who knew? You’d be fine, you coached yourself. Kung Lao gave you a nervous look as though he were thinking the same thing. You were suddenly aware of how little you’d eaten. You picked up the last pork bun on your plate and ate it as quickly as you could. There. No more empty stomach.

Sayuri lifted her cup and the rest of the table did the same. So did you. The sake was hot and you took a sip of it and winced. Kung Lao downed his in one fast motion. He then set his cup aside, upside down so that no one would refill it. You were grateful for that. The last thing you needed was to be drunk while desecrating a Buddhist Temple. He continued his chatter amongst the others while you sipped until the sake was gone. Then you placed your cup next to his upside down. The sun had gone down, and the lanterns glowed a brilliant orange, illuminating the temple in warm light. You turned on the bench to face away from the table. Your cheeks were warm and the annoying overthinking had briefly stopped. At least it hadn’t taken you from zero to drunk.

Kung Lao turned to sit with you and with him, came the rest of the couples at the table. They gathered around in front of you and sat on the stone while swapping stories and histories. Some were schoolteachers, others were businessmen. Each came from an interesting and diverse background. You didn’t weigh in much. Your Japanese was just not good enough to keep up. The hum of conversation and the warmth of the sake were enough to make you sleepy.

“What about you, Kung Lao? What do you two do?” A stranger across the way asked. You didn’t remember introducing yourselves to these other people but you supposed that Kung Lao had captivated everyone’s attention. You had been more focused on why you were really there for the night. Kung Lao searched for the words to explain what it was he did. It was the first time that evening where he had struggled to come up with a lie. You decided to help him out with a little bit of truth.

“He’s a martial artist.” You patted him on the back and he forced a smile. You had done so purposely pretty hard. “And I teach martial arts.” You had. That wasn’t a lie. Immediately, people were gushing over you. “I just teach. He’s quite good.” You smiled at him, redirecting all of the attention back onto him. Sayuri leapt to her feet, wobbling with drink, excited.

“Oh! Oh! Show us something cool!” She grabbed your hand as though you had known each other far longer than an hour.

“No, no.” You laughed politely. “The sake went right to my head. I’ll pass.” You bowed. Much to your surprise, Kung Lao leaned closer to you.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine” You assured him. “But you should show off a little. You’re good at that.”

“I planned to. I need a partner but if you’re not feeling up to it.” He made another playful kissy face and you shoved him away, inciting more laughter. Kung Lao stood up, fingers brushing over the brim of his hat before he pulled it off and offered it to you to hold. You slipped it on top of your head instead. He patted the top of it. “I need a partner since Y/N won’t help me.” He spoke in Japanese as he walked into the sand below the stone path.

“Go! Kioshi!” Sayuri pushed her boyfriend to his feet but he looked incredibly nervous even if he did as he was asked. Kioshi bowed to Kung Lao after joining him in the sand.

“Now come at me.” He instructed and Kioshi did just that. Kung Lao grabbed his arm, twisted him back and then flipped him onto the sand, inciting a gasp from the crowd. But even as the man nearly struck the ground, Kung Lao crouched and stopped his momentum then helped him to his feet. Everyone applauded, and you offered him a slow, unimpressed clap. Kung Lao showed Kioshi how to do a few other moves then countered them. Poor Kioshi. He just wanted to impress Sayuri. You caught Kung Lao looking to you every so often and tried not to apply that exact thought to you. He knew you thought he was good. Right? He wasn’t showing off for you was he? Fake date or affection? You had no idea but you were pretty sure you were losing this game.

If he wanted to show off, you’d make him work. “Do a flip!” You yelled and Kung Lao looked to you as if to admonish you for putting him on the spot. Everyone else was chanting do a flip and you pointed to them as if he had no choice now. He rubbed his palms together then leapt back onto the stone walkway. He stepped to the edge of the stone and then instead of walking off, he flipped through the air, legs high above him before landing as if it were nothing at all. He really was a delight to watch. When he turned back around, he blew you a kiss and then pointed an accusatory finger at you. You covered your face with your hands as your cheeks turned red and Sayuri whistled almost directly in your ear.

This was a pretend date, you reminded yourself.

A pretend and very convincing date with Kung Lao.

It had felt so natural that you had to continuously remind yourself that it was pretend. Your face hurt from smiling and was red since he kept flirting with you even when he was just showing off something he had practiced his whole life. The crowd took over with simple requests and so he was preoccupied for a time and it gave you peace to recover from your embarrassment and for the sake to run its course.

When he was finished, the crowd politely applauded and thanked him for humoring them. You applauded with them and when he sat back down next to you, he sighed contentedly. He hadn’t even broken a sweat. The group had taken to talking amongst themselves again. Some discussed that the last bus would be coming to get them in the next hour or so.

Kung Lao turned to you and pulled up the hat on your head and tugged the strap free before gently tucking it beneath your chin. It was way looser on you and he tugged it with a smile to urge you a little closer. You averted your eyes but couldn’t hide your delight. “So, how’d I do? You didn’t seem too impressed.”

“You’re great Kung Lao, but you already knew that.”

“I know. I just wanted to hear it from you.” He took the hat from you and then slipped it back on his head. “Cute hat. I think I’ll steal it.” You watched the others chat and then Kung Lao stood and offered you his hand. “One last walk by the water?”

“Sure, I guess.” You sighed and took his hand before getting up. You were supposed to be discreet so that no one would notice you were missing when you hid. So much for that. Perhaps you would say goodbye in a moment and then find somewhere to hide until everyone else left. That would work. Kung Lao leapt off the stone path and offered you help down which you took. Then you let go of his hand walked closer to the water. Kung Lao didn’t follow you immediately, but you could feel his eyes following you.

Then he jogged to catch up with you. “Y/N?” You turned to face him, and he stopped in front of you. He took a purposeful step closer to you, denying you personal space. You were forced to tilt your gaze up to meet his.

“Yes?” You asked skeptically. He rested one hand on your hip, and you cocked a curious eyebrow as if to dare him to keep going. You would ten thousand percent pin his ass into the sand if you had to. He tilted your chin up and examined your face before letting his fingers brush down your jaw and over the side of your neck. His eyes followed the trail of his fingertips and you stiffened up but didn’t back down. He leaned ever closer and you very bravely, at least you thought it was brave, refused to turn away, even when his lips drew ever closer.

“…you’ve got something in your teeth,” he whispered with a grin. You laughed and smacked his hand away from your neck and then stepped back and pointed an accusatory finger at him.

“I am going to knock you on your ass and throw you into that toxic lake if you keep that up.” You threatened, walking away from him.

“Well, that’s rude!” He caught up to you and so you shoved at him again with a laugh and kept walking while he stumbled in the sand. You heard him get closer again and so you turned to warn him that you were going to follow through on your threat but he grabbed your arm, pulled you close, and without any warning or pretense, his lips pressed against yours. He was still laughing and you could feel the reverberations of the sweet sound moving through your lips, down your throat and sending shivers down your spine.

It made you smile and as if they had a mind of their own, your lips betrayed you and kissed him back. He held you tight to steady you in the sand and then pushed a stray hair from your face, then urged you to tilt your head even further back as he opened his mouth wider to deepen the kiss, taking each moment greedily for his own. His lips still tasted like the damn pork bun that you’d shoved in his mouth and that made you laugh.

His arm slipped around you and his hand met the small of your back and pulled you tight against him. His warm body pressed against yours woke you from the romantic reverie he’d slipped you into.

“Nope,” you muttered against his lips and then pulled back, leaning away from him since his arm held you captive.

“Oh?” Eyes half-lidded, Kung Lao seemed confused as to why you’d stopped him. Your stomach dropped. That look in his eyes was killing you, something more than romance, closer to lust. Your stomach was doing flips again. Affection or fake date? This one was easy. “Sorry.” He very suddenly realized that it may have been inappropriate and pursed his lips while he searched for the inevitable elusive lie that he would feed you as an excuse for his behavior. “Got carried away.” That was not so much a lie this time.

“Sure you did. Because of all the people that we’ve lied to, right? Had to act the part of doting boyfriend? You came up with our origin story very quickly, by the way.”

“Oh?” He was again at a loss for words, very unlike him. He turned to look at where the others were still gathered on the stone path by the tables. “Oh! Yeah. The act. That thing. Right.”

“Wow,” you whispered but your brain was screaming. No words. Just screams. The panic was real. This was a mess. A huge mess. How had you slipped so naturally into these roles? There were no other words for it than a total and complete fucking mess. He let you go and then went on talking like nothing had happened. He tried to lead you along the sand again.

What were they going to do? What were you going to do? You couldn’t date them both! You had already kissed them both and felt terribly guilty about it. You even felt a little slutty which was never a word you would have used to describe yourself as much as Chen wished that you would.

Maybe slutty was too harsh a word. Your lips, at the very least, were very slutty.

Kung Lao was listing off potential places that you could hide while you waited for the monks to end their night. He’d managed to go back to being his normal self. You couldn’t turn that off so quickly. The rollercoaster was back and there was a huge drop just ahead. You had nothing to say, no input even when he asked you for it. You kept walking alongside him instead, the screaming in your head now mixed with chaotic laughter at the improbability of the situation. You had to make a choice eventually. But both of them were so different and your connection to them was even more so. You had to stop thinking about it. There was no solving this now.

“Did I make it weird?” His words finally slipped through all the screaming which stopped very suddenly.

“What? With your bad jokes and all the showing off?” You instantly found refuge in sarcasm. Oh god, you were so alike in some ways. Kung Lao cocked an eyebrow as if to say you knew exactly what he was referring to. “Oh. Oh, yeah, that kissing me thing you keep doing.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. That’s the thing.”

You huffed. Where to start? Most important of the things bothering you, you supposed. The truth. “I kissed Liu.” You were surprised by how confident you’d sounded. You hadn’t actually said it out loud before. “And I wanted to kiss him.”

Kung Lao did not seem surprised by this revelation. In fact, he seemed very unsurprised. “And did you want to kiss me?”

You stuttered because that was not the response that you’d expected. Wait. Did he already know? Were Liu Kang and Kung Lao gossiping about you? The screaming was back but this time it was angry. You pinched the bridge of your nose and then grunted in frustration and made to walk away. Kung Lao grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Did you?”

“Yeah, I suppose that I did.” Getting those words out was like pulling teeth. You didn’t know what anything meant. Everything was chaos and nothing mattered. “I can’t kiss you both.”

“I mean you did so you obviously can.”

“You know what I mean!”

“Do I?”

“It has to stop.”

“For you? Or for me? Or for Liu? You’re being very vague, Y/N.”

“Are you being purposely frustrating? For all of us, Lao.” You tapped his chest with each word and he laughed. “You have no idea how this is eating me up! I’m so confused. My heart hurts. No more. No more of it.” You weren’t sure how you were going to stand by this declaration when they just went for it so freely but damnit, you were frustrated.

“I guess that’s fair. Only sort of though. How come you get to decide? I’m part of this too.”

“Kung Lao, I swear.”

“Okay! Okay.” He avoided your gaze and his eyes were darting to the side. He was lying? About what?

“What? What’s that look?”

“Uh… ah… what look?”

“I thought you were a good liar, Lao! What’s going on with you?”

“I uh… nothing?” He looked so beyond guilty that you laughed in disbelief.

“Kung Lao? What did you do?”

“That list is way too long to go over right now. We’d be here all week and we have things to do.” He turned away.

“You’re hiding something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N.”

“Why aren’t you mad, Lao? Aren’t you mad that I kissed your best friend? Hell, I kissed your brother and then also kissed you? Shouldn’t you be pissed? Why am I the one that’s angry?” Your voice was very high-pitched and he laughed at you again.

“What’s the point of being angry? I knew that you and Liu were getting close. Everyone knows. You’re obvious. I’m not stupid, Y/N. I just also decided not to give up.” He sighed but still avoided your eyes and kept checking to see if you were buying it or not. What the actual hell?

“I don’t know what you’re lying about or why you’re lying but I know that you’re lying, Lao. And I know that it’s something important.”

“We have so much to do, Y/N. You’re being crazy. Maybe I will stop kissing you.” He teased and you smacked his arm and gasped. He wasn’t taking you seriously! You took calming deep breaths. Now what were you supposed to do? That hadn’t gone at allhow you’d expected it to. It hadn’t helped you get any closer to a decision. It had only further confused you!

“Of course you will. Because I told you to stop.” You mocked him and he looped his arm with yours. “Let’s go say goodbye to these strangers before I really do push you into the lake and just yell about what a big liar you are.”

“As much as I would love to see that, it’s probably the wrong time to make a display of ourselves.”

“Says the man who has done nothing but make a display of himself all damn day.”

“You didn’t seem to be complaining. You didn’t even try to stop me.”

“No one can stop you, Kung Lao. You’ve made that incredibly clear.” You walked with him back to where the others were gathered. Kung Lao was then his usual charming self, chatting and telling the others that you had to go and had called a taxi to pick you up. You did your absolute best not to roll your eyes but you were seething. Why had you thought telling him would change anything? You supposed that you’d expected him to be angry that you had kissed him after also kissing Liu and would tell you to make a choice. But he hadn’t. Why? Was he afraid that you would choose Liu over him? He didn’t seem afraid of what came next like you were. In fact, he seemed like he wanted to drag this out. You were uncomfortable but you decided, in a breath, to let it go.

Whatever he was hiding would be revealed eventually and when it did, you would call him out on it and gladly. And you would kiss whoever you damn well pleased. For now, you just had to keep your head on straight and focus on the task at hand.

He’d kissed you like it was no big deal. The audacity of this man!

You waved at the others and together you walked to where you’d met the bus. Then you snuck around the gate surrounding the shrine and found a place hidden behind a series of rocks to wait and hide. It was what made the most sense. There was nowhere else to hide without being spotted with so many guests still remaining. As far as you had seen, there were no security cameras.

“You still mad?” He whispered after an hour had passed.

“Confused. Not mad.”

“Don’t be confused, Y/N.”

“Okay. Still a little mad. Almost snapped at you again.”

He chuckled and you pouted. He urged his arm around your shoulder and hugged you close. You were still a little mad but his hugs did feel nice. Comforting even. You were so drained. You hadn’t been prepared for the emotional toll this was taking on you. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t even know what you’re sorry for so don’t waste your breath.” You swatted his arm and he swatted your hand back. “I’m confused. That’s all.”

“Clearly. Look, I’m not mad at you. I don’t like that you kissed Liu but you’re figuring things out. That’s fine.”

“But Liu…”

“I can’t say that Liu won’t be mad about it but I mean, maybe that will make him seem less appealing.” He grinned and you groaned in annoyance and smacked his arm again. “It’ll all work out, Y/N.”

“It’ll all work out, Y/N.” You mimicked him and he laughed again. “I can’t believe that I have to sit stewing over this next to you, with your arms around me while we wait to break in there. God, I need something to punch.”

“This has been fun.” Kung Lao decided while trying not to laugh. Fun? You huffed again and then leaned your head back against the stone and closed your eyes. You had to stop the racing thoughts and find a way to be okay with what had just happened. Time would help, you decided.

And it did.

You fell asleep.

[blue-bird-kny]

How You Spend Days Off

I stuck to only the three main peeps, but I’m looking forward to writing for more JJK characters. It was actually really nice to write for them, so I hope you enjoy~Amanda

P.S: Be safe out after dark!

Warning: N/A

( 2.1K+ words)

   ↳{shenanigans you and your S/O get up to on days off}

Yuji:

Days off with Yuji are unpredictable and always either involve something thrilling and very energy consuming or it can be some of the simplest things a person can do- no in between.

Yuji usually is the one who makes plans during your spare time (though he always gets your opinion, of course), he just really values time with you and wants to experience so much together while he can

It was common knowledge that this coming Friday, all the students would have the time off to rest as a reward for all their hard work with the recent influx of curse activity. Yuji wasted no time in planning the perfect day together, from the moment you woke up next to him to when you both fell asleep, he had something ready.                               

“Ah that was delicious Yuji, thank you” you cheered, arms stretched high above your head in an attempt to work away the sleepiness the food had made you feel. “No problem! Only the best for you, princess” Yuji’s smile reached past his shining eyes, thrilled you enjoyed the assortment of plates and bowls filled with your breakfast favorites he’d surprised you with. “Well then, my prince, to what honor do I owe your company today?” you asked leaning against your balled fist and bent elbow on the table, amusement and adoration laced on all your features. “For one day only, yours truly scored us tickets to…! Drum roll please!” Yuji posed dramatically, eyes cast down while crouched and pointing in a funny manner.

You proceeded to bang your fist against the table, laughing lightly, “We’re going to spend all day at Monster Con!” he pulled out two floppy pieces of paper from his back pocket as you gasped, “Oh I’m not finished yet, princess, we’ll also be wearing matching costumes I hand selected” You stood quickly, clapping at his theatrical performance as he bowed, repeating, “Thank you, thank you”. You made your way to infront of the boy, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders while he enveloped your waist tightly, pressing you against him. “Not going dressed as your pesky alter ego, huh?” you joked staring up at the taller kid, earning you a slight pout, “No, he’s not invited” he grumbled. “Sorry, that joke was in poor taste” you apologized, shifting to run your thumb along his juted bottom lip to smooth out the lines.

“No worries, I know ya didn’t mean anything by it” your hand stayed cupping his cheek, both star-filled eyes trained on each other as you both wore the cheesiest grins. Just as you stood on your tip-toes to close the space between each other, a warm gust of breath blew against the palm holding Yuji still, “I was wondering why you hadn’t spoiled the moment” you sighed, lowering yourself to lean your forehead against Yuji’s chest instead. A small mouth carved into its host cheek frowned, now free to speak without your hand suffocating it, “I can handle the women’s teasing, however what have I done in my many lifetimes to have to suffer through this painful love-sick puppies act” Sukuna complained. “Many things actually” you responded, muffled by Yuji’s shirt that smelled of a citrusy-warm blend you couldn’t get enough of. “Why do you always kill the mood?” Yuji  groaned up towards the ceiling, earning himself a scoff from the demon king. “Oh? You mean like that I wouldn’t let y-” “SHUT UP!” Yuji slammed his hand against his own face to silence the man, his cheeks inflamed.

Now clad in matching costumes, you as frankenstein's wife and Yuji as Frankenstein, from the hair to the clothes to the make-up, you both spent the day without any further hiccups; how Yuji kept Sukuna at bay, you didn’t know, but I didn’t really matter. The stares from passengers on the train to the convention center was obvious to everyone but you two, lost in your own little love-sick world of old-fashion horror movies, delicious food, and pure, unfiltered content.

Megumi:

Megumi is a simple guy who likes simple things; he’s overworked and more exhausted than he even realizes, however he doesn’t acknowledge that...ever. In fact, you could run a mile ‘too quickly’ by his standards and he will have you take a break and drink his bottle of water (though you had your own and he knew that).

On your rare days off together, Megumi would silently stick to you like glue; he wants to do something for you in the creative way Yuji does and definitely wants to spend the time with you, but he can never come up with a complete idea of how to ‘wow’ you.

Except you didn’t need to be wowed, in fact you really were burnt out, so when the day came when you had  nothing to do but be together, you planned a whole day of nothing with a side of Netflix and take-out.

You knocked on the door to Megumi’s dorm that was just a few paces away from your own. It was almost noon and you still wore your pj’s from last night, cookie monster shorts and an old shirt of Megumi’s you took last week, having made no attempt to fix your hair. “Umi~!” you whined, banging on the door a little harder, the plastic bag from the convenience store rustling at your side. “Coming” Megumi opened the door in a similar state; pj’s still on and hair sticking in even weirder directions than normal.

“Mornin” you greeted with the faintest grin, “sorry to wake you” “ I was just getting up” he yawned while he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Sure I can tell by the bed head” you teased, earning a playful eye roll from the boy. You waved the bag of goodies in front of his face, “Let me in, I’ll make it worth your while~” he chuckled, “I doubt it” despite his words he stood to the side, letting you past and closing the door behind you.

His dorm was dark and a little stuffy, clearly Megumi hadn’t had time to do the in depth cleaning the little neat-freak was so fond of. The continents of the bag clacked together and scattered around as you tossed it onto the small table in the corner, making your way over to his comfortable futon that smelled of his signature eucalyptus soaps. You flopped about for a moment, stretching, snuggling into the sheets still warm from Megumi, who was watching the small scene from the door, “C’mon Umi’ I wanna get through at least two episodes of SVU before we inevitably fall asleep wrapped in each others arms” you called dreamily with lidded eyes, already tired again as you buried beneath his sheets and pillows.

Megumi could feel his chest ache and stomach flutter at the image of the one who he cared for so much that it physically hurt laying there in his bed with soft, kind eyes just for him- it was almost too much. “Umi, I will eat all the sour snakes if you don’t come over here, your sheets are getting cold” Megumi was cut off by his own thoughts of admiration by your voice. He chuckled at the cute way your face cringed a bit at the sour-sweet taste of the candy before sliding into bed too, your head laying on his chest as he held you close. A small, genuine grin spread across his lips as the sound of Netflix starting rang from the TV, holding you even tighter, ‘this is perfect’

Nobara

Be ready to put on your best dressed because you and your girlfriend are hitting the town! Of course Nobara would find her way into the city whenever she could, foreign to the endless wonders the busy streets had to offer and luckily for her, you happened to be far more native with the many sights to see.

She’d let you sleep in, holding you tender as she traced her nails across your skin to form intricate patterns until you woke. You both would totally be the couple that wears matching outfits, the same colors and patterns tailored to your personal styles- of course this would also lead to thousands of pictures for Nobara’s instagram.  

You two would laughed, eat delicious foods, and would spend way more than either of you cared to admit nor did you want to because the price of absurd, unfiltered laughter and the feel of just a good time, was one both of you could pay a thousand times (and a new pair of shoes too)

The sun hung lower in the sky than it did when you started this little adventure before noon, having been sold on the idea by Nobara that she “only needed a few things” this morning. Now, exhausted perched on a steel chair outside some cafe you’d never heard of with your sore feet elevated on the other empty one you waited for your girlfriend who was inside somewhere.

“Jeez even my fingers are cramped” you groaned flexing your numb digits; shopping was a grueling vice because no matter how much you’ve already bought, more cute sweaters, tops, and matching accessories called to you by name and the art of saying ‘no’ wasn’t exactly in Ms.Kugisaki’s vocabulary. “Here ya’ go babe” Nobara emerged from the shop with two cups, handing one to you before sipping gingerly from her own. You brought the plastic straw to your lips, sighing in relief as the contents quelled a thirst you didn’t even know had been building up. “I don’t think we did too much damage” your face fell and eyes bulged, flailing your arms out around at the brightly colored parcels that littered the table and surrounding floor, “Nobara there are at least fifteen bags here”

She laughed, her hand falling on top of your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze, “Still no that bad”. She scooched her chair closer to yours, her thumb rubbing nonsense circles into the denim of your jeans, “What next?” she asked leaning into her seat, her brown irises watching yours fondly, “Food? We haven’t eaten since a lot earlier and I could turn into a wolf any second and eat you” you teased, though food sounded better and better the more you thought about it. “Eat me? You promise, baby?” Nobara’s smirk earned herself a not-so-graceful, but light kick from you.

“An impromptu picnic sounds great” Nobara decided, tapping against you in finality. It became a game: You both had 30 minutes to run around the delicious food district to pick out each other's favorites, as many as you liked (which would be more food than two can eat), then you’d reconvene at the same cafe. Nobara offered to pick up a blanket at the convenience store because she ‘knew you so well she wouldn’t need the whole half hour.’ The game was on and time was ticking as you both rushed in opposite directions with several bags and a hunger to please the other.

You scurred around each vendor, selecting different meat dishes and veggies, cakes and watermelon, and even splurged on some fancy sushi from the place she'd wanted to try. Your arms quivered under the weight of the many shopping bags and take-out boxes, but you were determined to get back first. “Just around the corner- Are you kidding me?!” you yelled. In the exact steel seat she sat in earlier, was Nobara with an array of bags around her, boxes and the blanket stacked neatly on the table with dark sunglasses adorning her face and her legs crossed cockily as she spoke smoothly, “Beat ya”

Both of you grossly overestimated the amount of food you could eat in one sitting as practically unopened boxes lay stacked on top one another on the blankets while watermelon rinds and used plates were thrown into a garbage bag. The sun was low, almost at the horizon, painting the sky in pastel oranges and pinks with hints of purple and blue; the spring chill had blown a little heavier now that the sun was setting and it was getting harder to stop the shivers. Nobara laid against the trunk of a tree with you between her legs, holding you as her manicured fingers idly massaged your scalp quietly- you would have fallen asleep at the small gesture had you not been actively keeping your eyes open. “The boys will be grateful for the food, I’d hate wasting it” she yawned to which you only hummed.

“Hey” you turned your head up slightly, only enough to meet her gaze, “today was really fun” she smiled, slithering across your arm to grab your cheeks gently in her fingers, forcing your lips to pucker, “yeah it was.” Your wobbly smile made Nobara feel things, too many things at once, and a lump began to form in her throat, “I love you” you mumbled, Nobara’s breath caught for only a moment, whispering a thick “me too.”

Masterlist 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Would you mind giving us general dating headcanons for your mob character OCs? I know their not actual characters 👉👈

No, no! Of course they count as actual characters...!

I am ecstatic to see that the mob character OCs are loved to this extent!

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Octavinelle A-kun...

...is a sweet and clingy boyfriend!

He strongly, strongly advises you to not visit him at work (in fact, he says you should not go to the Mostro Lounge for dates at all)! Octa A-kun will gladly take you anywhere else, though.

Most of your dates are in quiet, scenic places where you can just enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes you just hole up in a room and watch movies, or cook something together. He has lots of experience from working at the Mostro Lounge!

Octa A-kun loves to nuzzle against you, hold you tight, and give soft, fleeting kisses when you’re alone. He’s too shy to engage in public displays of affection!

Rather than buy you gifts, Octa A-kun prefers to make you things! He’s pretty good at arts and crafts, so he usually DIYs small accessories, like seashell bracelets.

You go to cheer him on during swim meets, and help to make sure that he is in good health (since you know how stressed the poor guy is most of the time)! He really appreciates your efforts~

Octa A-kun stutters much less and speaks more clearly around you. Just your mere presence gives him courage.

Scarabia B-kun...

...is the type of boyfriend that’s eager to please!

If you even vaguely mention that there’s an inconvenience for you to deal with, Scarab B-kun will immediately offer to help! He wants to be of use to you!

He’s good at giving massages! Let Scarab B-kun help loosen up your muscles and get rid of all your aches and pains~

You spend many evenings together stargazing and/or tending to Kalim’s animals, just chatting about anything and everything. Sometimes, if you’re in the mood, you try coming up with stories for the different constellation formations or imitating the songbirds.

He makes you lunch boxes whenever he can! Scarab B-kun doesn’t mind if he has to get up early to prepare them, because seeing your bright smile and hearing that his food is delicious is well worth the effort!

He introduces you to his vice-dorm leader to get his blessings! It almost feels like you’re meeting Scarab B’s disapproving parents rather than Jamil, just from the way he is staring daggers at the both of you.

Tells his twin in Ignihyde all about you, though he seems relatively disinterested while Scarab B-kun blabs on and on.

Pomefiore A-kun...

...is kind of a high maintenance boyfriend, but he thinks the world of you.

Since he’s such a gossip, a lot of information passes by him. He can recommend all the nicest restaurants, clothing brands, and beauty products to you. Dates with Pome B-kun are extravagant and extensive, often involving fancy meals and prolonged shopping trips.

A very aggressive kisser. Prepare to be left breathless. He also does not care if people are watching--in fact, all the better! Let people talk about you two; you’re such a cute couple, after all.

Even though Pome B-kun is generally very loose-lipped, he keeps your secrets under lock and key. After all, he respects you a lot and would never want to harm you.

Pome B-kun enjoys playing with your hair. He’ll even help you style it, if you’d like! If he’s feeling particularly cheeky, he’ll pick u a few locks and press his lips to them.

Gets snappy and downright vengeful at people that mistreat you, even in small ways. That barista that messed up your order? He wants to speak to their manager. That bully that said your sweater was ugly? Say good-bye to their good reputation.

Despite looking and acting frivolous at times, Pome B-kun actually offers a lot of insight and gives great advice. If you’re ever lost or unsure, chances are that he can offer you some guidance.

[pentanguine]

Favorite books of 2020

So....about five months ago now, I drafted a list of my favorite books of 2020, and then I, uh, didn’t finish it. It languished in a draft gathering dust and I forgot that it existed.

But now it’s done! It’s hideously late and also out of date, because I’d change many of the rankings now (see below), but I decided to keep them in the original order to reflect how I felt when I actually meant to post this.

Gideon the Ninth- What can I say about this book that hasn’t already been said? It’s like nothing else I’ve read before, in the most unabashed, off-the-walls, grandiose way possible. It’s incredibly complex, well-written, goth, and full of memes. There are, indeed, lesbian necromancers in space.

Harrow the Ninth- I read this 500+ page book in one day and didn’t notice an earthquake while doing so, if you consider that an endorsement. There’s so much going on here it almost feels like it shouldn’t work, and yet it does, brilliantly—it’s so intricately plotted you’ll want to reread it immediately because there’s no way to pick up on everything your first time through.

The Starless Sea- This is just a magical delight of a story, with prose that flows like honey: slow, sweet, and delicious. The story unfolds like a series of wonders nested one inside the other, with each section adding another layer of whimsy and metafiction. It’s half a dream, and half a maze.

Young Miles (The Warrior’s Apprentice/The Vor Game)- The Miles books (the early ones, especially) are wild and unrepentant romps through outer space, and reading them was one of the highlights of 2020 for me. When I finished the Young Miles omnibus, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken such pure delight in a book. Even the heavier, more thoughtful moments were part of a well-told, enjoyable story.

The Stone Sky- Speaking of heavy and thoughtful books…The Broken Earth Trilogy is definitely not a light undertaking, but it’s just a masterpiece of world- and character-building. The Stone Sky is the final installment, and it does not pull a single punch in delivering what the previous books have been building towards.

This Is How You Lose the Time War- I keep instinctively wanting to call this a novel in verse, although I think it’s technically an epistolary novel with prose-poem tendencies. In any case, the writing is lovely—lush, vivid, sensual, romantic. I recommend reading this one with your poetry glasses on.

Cordelia’s Honor (Shards of Honor/Barrayar)- I tried to limit myself to one book per author on this list, but I didn’t succeed here. I loved the Vorkosigan saga too much, and I had to include the omnibus about Miles’s mother, Cordelia, whose life and personality could easily be the focus of another half-dozen volumes. (And if you’re looking for a well-developed m/f romance, you’ve found it here)

An Unkindness of Ghosts- I think this is the book that kicked off my sudden interest in sci-fi last year. It’s dark and beautiful, definitely character-driven, and everyone is truly strange in ways that protagonists rarely get to be. It’s also got one of the loveliest, most satisfying endings I can imagine.  

Code Name Verity- An incredibly intense YA book that delves deep into one of my favorite fictional themes, Morality. It’s a rollicking spy adventure novel that focuses on a close friendship rather than romance (although you can read it as sapphic if you want), with descriptions of flying over England at sunset that made my heart ache.

The Raven Tower- I enjoyed this story for reasons probably particular to me—I like long digressions into abstract questions like “How do we exert power over the world?” and “Where does the meaning of words exist?”, and entire sections of The Raven Tower are devoted to the inner meditations of a very contemplative rock. It’s also a retelling of Hamlet, if that’s more your speed.

Network Effect (and Murderbot novellas)- I’m going to quote my immediately-after-finishing review: “Murderbot always gives me feels. I would love to give a more literary summary, but I’m still overwhelmed by the tentative vulnerability of two bots being best friends and watching TV together after [redacted].” The first Murderbot novel definitely did not disappoint.

The Monster of Elendhaven- Decadent, blood-soaked, and morally depraved, it’s kind of like The Picture of Dorian Gray by way of Hannibal (NBC), with probable influences from a dozen other macabre works and no restraint whatsoever. Reading it felt very self-indulgently delightful.

Before Mars- A deliciously unsettling sci-fi thriller with a refreshingly blunt, unsentimental female protagonist. Also definitely an …interesting book to read at the end of March 2020, but explaining why would definitely be a spoiler. Suffice it to say that the book goes dark places not advertised on the tin, and it made me cry.

Orange World- Karen Russell is one of those writers who make you wonder “how did they come up with this?” Every one of her stories is a totally original marriage between two wildly different concepts (like a Bog Maiden and high school romance, or new motherhood and the devil), and they’re a nice blend of literary and fantasy that I love.

Something That May Shock and Discredit You- It’s so hard to rank this one, because its two primary concerns are Christianity and transness, one of which means very little to me and one of which is breathtakingly important. I couldn’t justify putting it any lower, because it made me feel an ungodly number of feelings, but I couldn’t really justify putting it higher when a solid third of the book went right over my head.

The Ten Thousand Doors of January- A truly wondrous novel, one that fully immerses you in the delight of storytelling and imagination, and the power of escaping to other worlds. It’s very much in the tradition of “books that pay tribute to the love of books,” and an homage to a hundred portal fantasies before it.

Braiding Sweetgrass- I’ve got such a fondness for nature writing that doesn’t even try to be scientifically detached, and instead leaves you with the feeling that the trees and fields around you are bustling with (nonhuman) people.* Kimmerer’s writing is steeped in indigenous ways of knowing, and emphasizes the respect and reciprocity we can hold for the natural world. It’s lovely writing, and I can’t recommend the book highly enough.

Call Down the Hawk- Full of all the ingredients you expect from a Maggie Stiefvater book: fast cars, ancient magic, questions of art and truth, and borderline overuse of the word “cunning.” Every time I read one of her books I want to start taking notes, because she’s got such a signature style that’s both poetic and readable.  

The Unspoken Name- For some reason I wasn’t much into epic fantasy last year, but I’m glad I gave this one a try. I love morally grey characters, of which there are plenty, and the plot took a number of refreshing twists and turns.  

A Memory Called Empire- Not a fast-moving read, but perfect if you like your sci-fi novels poetic, complex, and intellectual. The worldbuilding is incredibly immersive, in a way that reminded me a bit of Ursula K. Le Guin, and I remember this stuck with me for weeks after I finished it.

*Let me be a nerdy weirdo for a second: Most of the time Kimmerer is writing about New England, an area I’m not really familiar with, but “The Sound of Silverbells” is set on a mountain somewhere in the South, and I adored it. Suddenly she was writing about dogwoods and redbuds and poplars, and I was sitting there going “!!! Those are my friends! My friends are in a book!”

Changes I’d make now:

Bump The Starless Sea down a couple pegs, maybe to #6

Swap out Cordelia’s Honor and Young Miles

Bump The Raven Tower way down to #16 and bump A Memory Called Empire a few spots higher, maybe to #17

Braiding Sweetgrass can go up where The Raven Tower was

[archadianskies]

people keep teasing us about being a couple so we come up with a plan to fake date and have a fake breakup so they’ll feel awkward and leave us alone, OR, my ex is an asshole and I really don't want them to think I'm still in love (Simon/RK900, unless you've got someone else in mind!)

「 hold me, til i’m not lonely anymore  」 → on Ao3

The thing about those long days and nights in Jericho before Markus’ arrival is that hopelessness makes any relationship seem positive. Bonding out of desperation and survival seemed the right thing, the perfectly normal thing, to do at the time to soothe his abandonment issues and incessant craving for validation and affection. 

It had started off as a healthy relationship- a broken runaway PL600 and a discarded AX700, two domestics with no family to care for but each other. They had found solace together, and the cold dreary nights in the rotting freighter seemed just a little warmer. But Gideon was possessive, fiercely so, and detested Markus’ pacifist ways even though for the first time it seemed Jericho meant something, and had purpose and direction. Even as Simon quietly pined and yearned for Markus’ eloquence and easy affection and gentle demeanour, he stayed by Gideon’s side.

The possessiveness doesn’t stop after they win the revolution, and though they’re now recognised as living, sentient beings Simon still feels like he’s no more than an object owned by another. Gideon wants to make all the decisions, plans where they are to live and what’s to fill their apartment and how much time Simon is allotted to spend at Jericho. He is a broken runaway PL600, and so one quiet unassuming afternoon when Gideon is on a supply run with his team, Simon simply packs up his favourite jumper and a spare packet of thirium and runs away. 

He hops from place to place, from the sprawling, colourful Manfred Manor to Josh’s quiet little apartment crammed with books, to North’s haphazard, eclectic Eden commune. They are his friends, they remind him, and they welcome his company even if Simon feels like he’s intruding into their organised lives.

To combat the ache for companionship, Simon throws himself into work; there is much to do now they are legally Alive. Without Gideon planning every moment of his life, Simon helps out as much as he can. When Markus informs them of the DPD requesting an android liaison to ensure open communication between Jericho and the police, Simon volunteers. 

He knows Connor well now, knows the deviant hunter turned deviant is blossoming as an individual. He has likes and dislikes, a friendly, open personality and an eagerness to help. He also has a family now- a human father, a dog, and an android brother. 

“Simon this is my RK900 brother, Ronan.” Connor introduces them, and Simon takes in the looming figure who looks like Connor but not quite. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Ronan.” They shake hands and his grip is as firm as Simon expects an upgraded RK800 to be. 

“It is an honour to meet you, Simon of the Jericho Four.” He replies with a nod, all crisp received pronunciation; a polished British accent is not on the list of things Simon expects though somehow it suits the tall, handsome not-RK800. 

Gideon confronts him one unassuming afternoon when he is supposed to be on a supply run but isn’t. 

“You left so suddenly.” There’s anger and betrayal in his eyes.

“I did.” Simon nods.

“It’s supposed to be us against the world!” He steps forward and Simon steps back. “All those days and nights in Jericho, hoping and waiting for a world where we’d be free and here we are! Why did you leave?”

“I too am alive, Gideon.” Simon replies slowly, unable to quell the sick anxiety rising in his core. “You don’t own me, or my time.”

“I’m the upgraded android,” he sighs heavily and he’s using the patient tone programmed into domestics when talking to children. “I can make the better decisions for us, Simon. You’re an obsolete android with an inferior processing core but I love you all the same. It’s alright, I understand it’s very overwhelming for you now we have many more freedoms than before. I can wait patiently for you to come to your senses. You’ll always have a place in my hearts, and in my life.”

Androids don’t need to shower but Gideon’s words make him feel grimy, as if there’s a layer of filth contaminating his dermal layer and he must wash it off. Gideon’s words play over and over in his mind and Josh worries over his red LED when Simon appears in his apartment to bunk down for the night. Josh wraps him in a blanket and loans him another sweater from his ever growing collection of gifted sweaters, and Simon’s LED slowly cycles yellow. 

*~*

“You are distracted.” Ronan comments as Simon stares blankly at the tablet in his hands.

“Hm?”

“I said,” there’s the barest hint of a smile on his lips, “you are distracted.”

“Oh um.” Simon ducks his head sheepishly. “Yes. Sorry. I um- just…an old acquaintance reared up recently and we parted on not-so-nice terms.”

“Are they a danger to you?” Ronan’s voice loses all its mirth, his expression turning serious and Simon thinks he loves him a little for it.

“I wouldn’t say that. He’s not dangerous, he’s just very…stubborn.” Possessive, Simon wants to say but he doesn’t really want to say it. “We exchanged some words and I’m going to keep my distance.”

“It’s getting late.” Ronan glances outside. “I will walk you home.”

“Oh I-” I don’t have a home. “I’m staying at Josh’s tonight. We’re working on a speech draft together.”

“Then I will walk you to Professor Joshua’s apartment.” He says it so matter-of-factly Simon can’t help but smile.

“Thank you Ronan.”

Gideon finds him two days later when he’s at the creche visiting David, the sole YK500 who made it to and survived Jericho. 

“Are you ready to come home?” Gideon asks, and his voice is soft and gentle the way Simon used to love. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’m not going back to you.” Simon says curtly, stepping away from the children so they’re out of earshot. “I don’t want to go back to your home, I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

“Ah, still thinking it over.” Gideon sighs, his smile placating and Simon hates it, oh he hates it so much. “That’s alright. I’ll wait.”

“You’ll wait forever, then, because I won’t go back to you.” Simon feels the anger burn in his core and he wants to grab him by the shoulders and shout until he leaves but he doesn’t do that because the children are here and the children deserve not to hear raised angry voices. 

“Take your time, my love.” He reaches forward and brushes back a lock of hair from Simon’s face and Simon bites his lip so as not to flinch. 

“Here.” Ronan offers him a soft navy blue scarf that had been wrapped around his neck but a moment ago. “Your hands are shaking. It is common for PL600s to suffer malfunctions in their temperature regulators. Please wear this to help stabilise your internal heat.”

Simon accepts the scarf with a nod and wraps it around his neck and closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of clean knitted wool. He doesn’t want to correct Ronan, doesn’t want to tell him his hands are shaking because of his encounter with Gideon earlier that day and not because of the cold. 

“There’s an integrated cafe closeby, it’s where most of the precinct go to get their hot beverages.” Ronan gestures ahead. “The interior is kept at a pleasant temperature. Shall we have our meeting there?”

“Yes please.” Simon mumbles into the scarf, nodding to doubly confirm. He doesn’t want to think about Gideon, he doesn’t want to acknowledge that small black spot, that gnawing, growing fear for his safety that actually, Gideon might be dangerous after all. 

*~*

The Manfred manor is wonderfully distracting with its eccentric style as eccentric as its owner. Carl Manfred’s abode is crammed with art in many forms, and the bursts of colour against the warm tones make the place feel homely and welcoming and exciting. Simon loves staying over, even if he hasn’t quite mastered how to hide his pining for Markus. 

“Listen, as a big fan of your cooking I know for a fact that’s absolutely delicious,” Leo pipes up, “but I’m not sure you can actually drink that.”

Simon blinks, looking at the mug in his hands and belatedly realising it’s Leo’s hot chocolate and not his mug of thirium.

“Oh, sorry Leo!” He swaps the mugs and sighs tiredly.

“You’re super stressed. Your LED’s been red the whole time. What’s up, Simon?” Leo sets his laptop on the coffee table and scoots closer on the couch. “You alright?”

There’s no harm in telling Leo, Simon reasons with himself, since he’s not a part of Jericho and he’s not even an android.

“My…ex is…clingy.” Forcing the words out is harder than he thinks, and he buries his face in his hands, unable to even look at his human friend. 

“Clingy? Yikes, sorry Simon.” Leo offers a sympathetic grin. “They still don’t get the message?”

“I’ve told him flat out that I won’t go back to him but he’s insisting I just need to think things through.” Simon sips idly at his drink, taking comfort in the heat it provides. “I don’t need to think about it any further- we’re over. I’m not in love with him anymore and I hate that he thinks it’s somehow his decision to make!”

“Wait, Simon, is he-” Leo’s tone changes, and it reminds him of Ronan’s protective tone. “Is he bothering you? Like, stalking you? Threatening you?”

“Well, I mean he’s not-” a sigh of frustration. “I don’t know what to say to him to convince him to let me go! Not- not physically! Just- the idea of me, the idea of us still in a relationship. He needs to let that go!” 

“Say you’ve found someone else. You’ve moved on and so should he.” Leo suggests and Simon slumps down further.

“Leo, he’s a part of Jericho. He’d just find out I made it up.” Simon closes his eyes, feeling the fight drain out of him. “And I hate that some nights I miss him. Or, well, more that I miss being with someone and being loved.”

“You’re better off without him, he sounds gross.” 

“I know.” He thinks back to the early stages of Jericho, to those long cold nights wrapped in Gideon’s arms and how the future seemed a little less bleak. Then he thinks of Gideon’s anger, Gideon’s patronising words, and suddenly those memories seem less sweet and more sour. 

“I mean, I’d say pretend to date Markus but my brother is blissfully oblivious and completely ditzy when it comes to all that.” Leo grins as Simon shoots him a warning glare. “Anyway he’d be a downgrade. You’re absolutely wonderful- no I won’t accept your protests, you are, Simon, I mean it. You deserve someone super cool who will love you and keep you safe and my brother is not that.” A pause, his grin turning cheeky. “Pretend to date one of the Andersons. They’re plenty cool.”

He knows Leo’s teasing him, and it works because he lets out a helpless laugh and even a few days later just thinking about their exchange makes him smile to himself. 

“Hello darling.” Gideon’s voice interrupts his fond musing, and Simon’s smile vanishes instantly. “It’s been two weeks now, are you ready to come home?”

“What part of ‘no’ do you not understand, Gideon?” Simon demands, exasperated.

“Look, I know you’re still finding your feet, it’s okay! I told you I’m patient.” He tries to soothe, palms bared in a calming gesture.

“My feet are firmly planted, thank you very much!” Simon spits, and he is fuming. “I’ve already told you, more than once, that I’m not going back to you!”

“Simon, think about this critically.” Gideon sighs as if he’s been put upon. “You’re a PL600, we’re made for each other. Who will love you if I don’t?”

It feels like Gideon’s reached over and yanked his heart regulator out, and Simon’s struck by how awful, how absolutely awful he feels as those words seep into his core and spread through every cable, every fibre in his body. Plenty, he wants to scream, plenty of people love me, the love of friends is no less than the love of a partner! 

“I’m already seeing someone else.” Simon forces through gritted teeth. “I’ve moved on, and so should you.”

“Oh yeah?” Gideon scoffs, rolling his eyes. “And who’s the guy, Simon? Who’s willing to love a broken, obsolete PL600 if not me?”

“Ronan Anderson.” He clenches his hands into fists, willing himself to be brave, to not back down. “He’s an RK900, with processing capabilities far superior to yours. I’ve upgraded, Gideon. I’m not settling for a lesser model.” Without waiting for a reply, he pivots and strides away even though it feels like his knees will buckle at any moment. It feels like a victory but he knows it isn’t, it isn’t at all.

“Your stress levels, by the way, are astronomical.” North pokes his LED from where she’s lounging on his lap. “What’s up, Si?”

They’re sitting in a common room piled with cushions and beanbags and blankets, in a condominium rising from the ashes of the Eden Club. It’s populated by North’s brothers and sisters, those seeking refuge from their lifetime of abuse. Not many non WR400s and HR400s are permitted inside but Simon’s one of them. It must be a PL600 thing, Simon thinks, to appear so docile and hapless and helpless and the furthest thing from a threat. 

“Si?” North prompts, sitting up and cupping his cheek with her palm. “Hey, c’mon. Look at me.”

“Um-” he takes a shaky breath. “Just…bad breakup, that’s all. Clingy ex, but I think I got rid of him for good.” 

“I can kill him for you.” North shrugs, and though her tone is light Simon doesn’t doubt she’d keep her word. It’s why he loves her. 

“I don’t think it needs to come to that.” He manages a short laugh, shifting to wrap his arms around her and bury his face in her soft strawberry blonde hair.

“If it does, I’ll kill him.” Her tone is deadly serious, just like Leo’s had been, just like Ronan’s had been and it makes his hearts ache in a good, good way.

“I know.” He huffs a not-laugh, squeezing her close. “Thank you.”

*~*

It’s been a week since he last saw Gideon and work has kept him busy enough not to dwell on it. With Christmas on the horizon and Detroit’s humans slowly settling back into their lives albeit alongside their newly appointed, newly legal fellow android citizens, the DPD are run off their feet. By extension that means Simon is too, but he welcomes the never ending list of tasks. 

He spends more and more time at the precinct speaking on behalf of Jericho and ensuring both sides are kept updated with current events whether it be the status of yet another bill Markus is fighting for, or the progress on any one of the numerous open cases worked on by Lieutenant Anderson and his sons. 

“Tearium, Simon.” Ronan announces softly as he sets the tall takeaway cup on their shared desk. “Ms Essie says it’s their new milk tea flavour.”

“Thank you Ronan.” Simon smiles tiredly as he takes the cup and carefully takes a sip. The coding spreads on his tongue, sweet and creamy and soothing. He closes his eyes to savour it and sighs in relief. 

“Connor’s just waiting for Captain Fowler to sign off on the report and then we’ll be done.” Ronan takes his seat opposite him. “Shall I walk you home?”

“You can walk me to my taxi at the curb.” Simon corrects. “I’ll be heading to the Manfreds after this.” 

“Good.” Ronan nods, seemingly pleased with the information. “Carl Manfred has a state of the art temperature stabiliser in his home, and it’s forecast to snow overnight.”

“You really don’t need to worry about me, Ronan.” He mumbles into his Tearium, feeling ever the burden. 

“Perhaps. But I do anyway.” There’s something soft in his voice, in the small upward tilt of his lips. “I think we’re permitted to worry over those we care for deeply.”

“Signed!” Connor declares, and the moment is gone as he brandishes the tablet. “Report approved and logged. Time to go home!” He skips down the scant steps from Captain Fowler’s office, placing the tablet on his table and snatching up his coat from the back of his chair. “Shall we drop you off somewhere, Simon?”

“I’ll be catching a cab to the Manfreds, thank you for the offer though, Connor.” Simon declines politely, pulling on his coat and retrieving his half finished drink. He waves goodbye to Miss Stephanie, the ST300 receptionist, on their way out. 

“Oh, it’s snowing already.” Connor holds up his palm, watching the snowflakes flutter down. “Is your cab far away?” 

“Shouldn’t be too far now.” Simon looks down the road. 

“Connor, you head home first. Sumo will need his evening walk before the snowfall becomes heavier.” Ronan opens an umbrella and steps beside Simon, holding it over the both of them. “I’ll keep Simon company and see him home safely.”

They exchange a look Simon can’t quite decipher, a probable conversation he’s not privy to, but it ends with Connor grinning one of his puppylike grins and Ronan ducking his head suddenly and averting his eyes. The older Anderson brother takes his leave and then it’s just Ronan standing very close at his side as the snow falls around them. 

Simon sips at his tea, sneaking the RK900 furtive glances and trying not to think about how very handsome he is and how he’s actually rather funny and far more gentle and kind than his false reputation dictates. He tries not to think of how much he wants his parting words to Gideon to be a reality and not just a lie spit out of spite. 

In a way Gideon is right- who would love Simon, not as a friend but as a partner when he is so broken and obsolete? Certainly not a one of a kind Kamski creation, the saviour of their kind and leader of their revolution. Certainly not the most cutting edge, state of the art android honed like a blade by CyberLife.

“Have a safe trip to the Manfreds, Simon, and goodnight.” Ronan’s voice cuts through his wallowing as the cab tucks itself neatly at the curb. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” For the Tearium, for the umbrella, for waiting, for being patient and humoring him, Simon wants to say. But he doesn’t, and Ronan closes the door and watches him drive off until the cab turns the corner and is out of sight.

Deciding to return the favour the next day doesn’t seem quite fair, and Simon can’t bring himself to buy just one Tearium and leave others empty handed so he ends up buying Teariums for both Anderson brothers, one for Miss Stephanie, and an actual coffee for Lieutenant Anderson. 

He’s partway up the steps of the precinct carefully holding the tray of drinks when he spots Gideon sitting in the reception area. Their eyes meet and Gideon’s standing up and that means it’s too late for Simon to turn tail and run.

“Here Simon, let me help you with that.” Ronan’s voice is a gentle murmur by his side and he nearly jumps out of his casing. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“N-no it’s not- you’re fine, I just-” He’s stammering and Ronan’s expression is one of concern as he takes the drinks from him, Simon belatedly realising his trembling violently. 

“Best to get you inside where it’s warmer.” He keeps stride with him as they enter the precinct, but all Simon wants to do is bolt away.

“So you weren’t lying.” Gideon greets him with a sneer, eyes roaming over Ronan briefly before returning to him. “Somehow convinced the RK900 to take pity on you, is that it? He’s not a domestic, Simon, he can’t take care of you!”

“Simon does not need my pity, or anyone else’s, he is perfectly capable of caring for himself.” Ronan places the tray on the reception desk, sizing up the AX700. “I do not appreciate you coming here to berate him publicly, and I do not care who you are but you will leave.”

“Or are you lying, Simon?” Gideon’s grin is malicious and the lie is unraveling in his hands. “Made up some relationship to make me jealous? Oh but that just means I’m right, doesn’t it? That no else could possibly love you, you broken, obs-”

Ronan’s hand closes around his throat, and the RK900 lifts him off the ground with no effort whatsoever, gaze positively murderous. “I love him plenty. And he didn’t bother telling me about you because you’re not worth his time, nor mine. Get out of here and don’t you ever, ever speak to Simon again.” 

He lets go and Gideon falls to the floor in a heap, scrambling back in fear as Ronan towers over him. “You don’t even deserve to look at him, you cruel little cretin. If I ever hear of you approaching him again I will pull you apart piece by piece, do you understand?”

Gideon nods hastily, whimpering when Ronan lunges down to grab him by the shirt and haul him up.

“I asked: do you understand?” He growls, voice low and threatening.

“Y-y-yes! Yes I understand!” 

“Excellent.” Ronan releases him. “See yourself out, then.”

Scrambling away, Gideon nearly trips over his own feet in his haste to escape and someone laughs a high-pitched almost hysterical laugh and after a moment Simon realises it’s him.

“Are you alright?”

“This isn’t happening.” Simon giggles and his vision is blurry and his LED is red enough it’s emitting heat. “I’m having an actual breakdown.”

“You are not.” Ronan’s expression is serious, his movements purposefully slow as he ever so gently guides Simon through the security gates and into a small room. “You are recovering from an emotionally abusive relationship and it has worn you thin. Your stress is understandable.”

“He- it wasn’t! That’s just how he is, he never hurt me I’m just overthinking things, I’m-” Simon can’t breathe which is an odd thing since androids can’t breathe but it feels like there isn’t enough air ventilating his biocomponents. “I used you, I told him we were together, I lied so he’d leave me alone and now you’re caught up in this, you had to lie to him too and I never meant-”

“What makes you think I was lying?” Ronan embraces him tightly and Simon cries because his system doesn’t know what else to do, how else to cope with his critical stress levels. “I love you plenty. Whether you accept that as the love of a friend or the love of a romantic partner, or not accept it at all- that is your choice to make. You need only tell me once, and I swear I will respect your wishes.”

“Then love me, because I want this to be real.” Simon pleads, and words aren’t enough so he lets the skin recede from his hand and Ronan presses his palm to his and the world falls away until there’s nothing left but the ache of yearning and pining and fondness and affection and love, and love and love.

He tips up just as Ronan leans down and their lips meet and their hearts sync and Simon knows finally this is real.

[jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels]

Don’t you hear my call though you’re many years away - Chapter 5

A/N: Get ready to spend some time with John! This is all types up on my phone, please forgive any grammatical or punctuation errors. No clue or the word count.

Warnings: minor angst, mentions of drinking, slow burn.

I was amazed I slept at all that night, but I did, and I slept well. I woke around 8 the next morning. Smiling. I popped out of bed to start getting ready for my morning with John, and the afternoon with the band. Excitement was better than caffeine any day.

I took my time getting ready, I even curled my hair at the ends, but still parting it down the center, as that seemed to be the style.

I was applying my perfume when there was a soft knock at the door. It was a little before 10, I knew it was John, but I couldn’t seem too eager.

I pressed my ear to the door and asked “who is it?”

I heard a chuckle and he replied “it’s John Deacon.”

When I opened the door, he was beaming at me, his eyes crinkling.

“Hi” I sighed at the sight of him, still shocked that John Deacon was at my door, “good morning.”

“Good morning, sorry I’m early” he said as he shoved his hands in his back pockets.

“That’s alright, I’m almost ready. Come in”, I said taking a step back.

As he passed the threshold into the room and closer to me, I put my hand on his chest, stopping him. He looked me in the eye, with a soft smile painted on his face. I leaned in, and he met me half way. The kiss was sweet and gentle, much like his hand on my cheek.

I pulled back slightly and said “now it’s a great morning.”

His smile grew as I moved my hand from his chest and he made his way into the room.

I shut the door and as I turn around I was stopped in my tracks when I found him sitting on the foot of the unmade bed, leaning back on his hands. Heat scorched through my body, aching to be pressed against him. I could tell John was having similar thoughts as he raked his eyes over me and bit his lower lip.

I let out a shaky breath as I made my way across the room and past him to a window where I’d placed my earrings on the sill. I was trembling slightly as I leaned over picked them up.

“So what’s the plan for this morning?” I asked turning around, catching him checking me out from behind. I guess there was something to these short shorts.

His cheeks turned red, as he stumbled over his words, “oh, uh...well, um whatever you wanted.”

“I was thinking maybe you could show me around the area today, so I can get familiar with it, then possibly over the course of the month I’m here, maybe you could show me other places? Buckingham, Trafalgar, ya know, the major points of interest...” I suggested. Maybe I was pushing things.

“Sure” he said “I aim to please.”

I looked up at him from putting my shoes on.

“Is that right?” I asked. He nodded, keeping a wicked smile plastered on his face.

I sauntered towards him, his eyes following my every move. Once I was in front of him, I leaned down and put a hand on each of his legs, giving them a gentle squeeze as I moved my lips to his, keeping just a breath apart. He tried to kiss me, but I moved back, earning me a raised brow from him. I hovered my lips over his again as I whispered, “I think I’m going to enjoy having you as my guide.” I brushed a kissed against the side of his mouth, stood up and turned on my heels.

Once I was at the door, I looked back at him over my shoulder to find him rubbing his palms up and down this thighs.

“Ready?” I asked cheerfully.

“Uh...yeah, sure” he said as he stood up.

I held my hand out as he walked up to me, he took it without hesitation.

**

Our morning started out with a stop at a small bakery he suggested because of their chocolate croissants, and was he right. They were delicious, I’d have to be careful, I could eat them every morning.

We stayed in the area, John telling me some history he knew, places that had been rebuilt after the war, and others still showing the scars of bombings on their facade. I could listen to him talk all day. He could read me the ingredients list off a box of cereal and I’d be enthralled.

He showed me his favorite record store, where we browsed around a bit, and he asked me about my record collection. I panicked seeing as I didn’t even have a CD collection any more, but luckily I grew up with parents who loved their records, I was able to list a few of my favorites off the top of my head,

“I like Ray Charles, The Beatles, The Temptations, The Beach Boys. I tend to listen to a little of everything I guess.”

He told me about bands he liked, and records he was looking forward to buying. His taste leaned towards Motown but he said the Beatles were one of his favorite bands, and mentioned that he really enjoyed Elton John’s “Your Song”.

Scanning the records, I found a 45 of “La Vie En Rose” by Louis Armstrong. I picked it up and showed John.

“I love this song! I have it as my...” I caught myself, I was about to say ringtone but that wouldn’t make any sense to him.

John looked at me, his brow peaked, questioningly.

“You have it as what?” He asked.

“I’m not sure what I was trying to say,” I laughed nervously “I just meant it’s one of my all time favorite songs.”

He’s caught my slip up, but didn’t seem too concerned with it as he spoke.

“Not sure I know that song, but I do know Louis Armstrong.” He said.

“La Vie En Rose” I said “it was in one of my favorite movies, ‘Sabrina’.”

“Not familiar with that one” he replied with a small shake of his head.

“You’ll have to watch it some day,” I said, and held up the 45 “and you’ll have to listen to this!”

“Promise” he said with a sweet smile.

As we left the record store he talked to me about school, and explained what he was studying. Most of which went over my head. He also told me he would be sitting some tests in the near future.

“I know you’ll do well” I said.

“You think so?” He asked.

“Of course. I just know it.” I said encouragingly.

Eventually we made our way back to Kensington Market, and walked all 3 floors. He even showed me where Roger and Freddie had a stall, even though they weren’t there that day. I could see why it was such a popular place, but he said he tended to avoid it because it was always so crowded.

As we left the market he asked if I was hungry.

“I could eat” I replied.

We walked to a small shop, where we bought a couple of sandwiches and sodas, since John suggested we have a picnic in a near by park. The same park I traveled to. The one I’d be traveling from. I made sure we were no where near that area as we sat in the soft grass. I had an irrational fear that I’d be sent back before getting to know him better.

“Tell me about your family” he said, as we sat in the shade.

“Well, I’m the youngest. My older brother, he’s 10 years older than me, he manages a book store, he’s not married, but I’d love for his current girlfriend to become my sister in law. My Dad works for a telephone company, he’s made his way to management over the years, and my mom is a housewife.” I replied, keeping with the story my friends and I had developed. My brother actually managed an electronics store, and my mom was a compliance officer at a bank.

I continued, this time with the truth, “I have a large extended family. There’s so many of use that family gatherings look more like block parties. But we’re all very close despite the sheer number of us.”

“What about school, what do you want to teach?” He asked, picking at a few blades grass.

“I hope to teach art, I love art.” Not a complete lie, I did love art, which is why I was majoring in digital art, my Dad and his mother both did their share of painting, where I leaned more toward photography and graphic design.

“Maybe we could visit a few of the museums while you’re here then” he suggested.

“I’d love that” I replied sincerely.

“What happens if your family should run into your ex, while you’re here I mean?” He asked, out of left field.

“Oh, well they won’t. He doesn’t live in my hometown, we met in college, so it’s unlikely they’ll see him. But if they did, what could they do? I’m already here.” I said with a laugh.

He seemed satisfied with that answer when I asked him to tell me about his family. Not thinking it might be a sensitive subject until he cast his eyes down.

He told me about his parents and sister, and how he lost his father at a young age. He shared his favorite memories of him with me. As he spoke I took his hand in mine. I could see why people labeled him as fragile in the future. But he wasn’t. He was sensitive, but that didn’t make him weak, he just felt everything deeply. The loss of his father affected him tremendously. As would Freddie’s. At that moment I didn’t give a passing thought to what my leaving would mean, but I didn’t know yet where our relationship was heading.

“Hey” I said softly, changing the subject “do you think we could make a stop so I could buy some beer? Just as my way of saying thank you again to you and your friends?”

“Sure, we can stop at the off license on the way to the flat.” He replied.

“The what? And what flat? I thought you had practice tonight.” I said.

He laughed. We’d been playing this ‘game’ all day. I didn’t know a biscuit was a cookie, or that bin was trash can, now I didn’t now what an off license was.

“An off license” he said, smiling as his eyes crinkling “is where you buy beer, wine and such outside a pub.”

“Oh you mean a liquor store?” I asked.

“If that’s what Americans call them, then yes.” He laughed and continued “and a flat is an apartment.”

“I knew that one!” I defended myself, playfully pushing him.

He took that moment to lean over and kiss me, and catching me off guard, we toppled over in the grass. I started laughing instantly while John looked embarrassed for a moment but joined in my laughter.

“You have a beautiful smile” he said.

“Yours isn’t so bad either” I replied coyly.

He leaned down, meeting my lips with his to finish the kiss we had fumbled. He lowered his body so it pressed against mine, causing me to moan into his mouth.

He broke the kiss far too quickly, making me whimper.

“As much as I’d like to continue this,” he said in a husky voice “I’d rather not be arrested for being ‘indecent’ in a public park.”

I doubt we looked indecent, we probably looked more like a tangled heap of arms, legs and hair, as mine was splayed behind my head, and his curtained our faces.

I huffed and said “damn rules and laws.”

He pushed himself off me, stood and offered me his hand.

**

As we walked to his shared flat from the off license, he suggested I was trying to bribe his friends since I had bought beer, wine and whiskey. He may not have been wrong.

“How do manage to practice here with out your neighbors complaining?” I asked as we approached the stairs.

“They’re mostly our age, so they don’t complain much. But we’re not plugging in tonight. And fair warning, be prepared for bickering.” He said as he opened the door.

I couldn’t wait.

@queensdivas @liliah39 @leah-halliwell92 @painkiller80 @painandpleasure86 @deakys-chesthair @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @heybuddy-drabbles @queenwouldyourathers @mirkwoodshewolf @anincurablefangirl @ixchel-9275 @deakysmisfire @thosequeenboys @tryin-her-best @bornonaugust191951 @deacyspatronusisacheesetoastie

[autisticandroids]

2, 6, 12, 14, 27, 47.... foods questions

2. Grilled cheese or PB&J?

pbj, always. i like grilled cheese, sometimes. there are some truly delectable grilled cheese sandwiches out there. and it’s hard to beat a grilled cheese with your tomato soup on a cold night.

but peanut butter is the forbidden fruit. 

my mother is allergic to a great many things. this has influenced my taste in two ways. some of the foods she can’t eat, i have developed a serious distaste for. shellfish, salmon, most preparations of eggplant, etc. even some things which she dislikes because even though she’s not allergic to, it seems that she ought to be, like coconut, i hate.

but sometimes it went the opposite way. some of these forbidden foods - tamarind, pumpkin seeds, sesame, cherries - i covet. peanut butter is in this second category.

though i must say, i don’t usually go for jam on my peanut butter sandwiches. i tend to go elvis style, banana slices and honey. occasionally i will treat myself to a fluffernutter, a monstrosity which, if you have never lived in new england, i gleefully invite you to google.

6.  Top three cuisines?

okay. i’m officially declaring that this will be americanized versions only. i’ve traveled a lot, over the course of my life, and i’ve always eaten like a king, even in countries whose national cuisine is universally reviled. but i feel like it’s unfair to compare that way, you know? so this is gonna be just for stuff i eat in america, or make at home.

- italian food, but only the way they do it in new haven, connecticut, and surrounding areas. 

- chinese food because if you told me right now if i could never eat another bao i’d die on the spot, actually. this is also cheating a little because some of the chinese food i cook myself is a lot more like chinese-chinese food than americanized chinese food, since i’ve actually been to china and stuff, but even if i were to never cook my own chinese food again and only ate at american chinese restaurants it would still be on here.

- third is hard. third is hard. thai food? polish food? indian food? vietnamese food? it’s hard. i think i’m going to have to go with japanese food. i would be a hypocrite if i didn’t, because i just spent two hours making a passable imitation of takoyaki, with vegetarian fish chunks. 

i feel kind of odd about this, because i’ve always had the sense that americanized japanese food is even further from japanese-japanese food than most americanized cuisines, because it’s so limited in scope. like, american japanese food is pretty limited to either sushi, or trendy street food/ramen places. 

i always had the impression that, for example, while american chinese food is very americanized, and really only reflects the cuisine of guangdong, it might at least have something to do with what immigrants from guangdong were eating at home during the early waves of chinese immigration. i have similar impressions with other immigrant cuisines. but i do not have this impression with american japanese food, since it was really limited to sushi and whatever side dishes sushi places sold, and the expansion of things like ramen shops and street food in the last few years seem to be driven less by immigration and more by a rising trend of mainstream western culinary orientalism and weeabooism. so i feel like it’s probably incorrect to claim japanese food is one of my favorite cuisines since the american version of it is so limited.

also, just realized that i would die for a good banh mi right now so i’m changing my answer, vietnamese food.

12.  What do you get on your bagels? What WOULD you get if you had access to anything you wanted?

you can’t go wrong with a good egg and cheese. i nearly always get an egg and cheese. they’re unbeatable.

sometimes, in a certain mood, i will get strawberry cream cheese instead. sometimes, in a very certain mood, i might get just plain cream cheese, but that’s unusual.

it really does not matter what you get on a bagel. what makes or breaks a bagel sandwich is not the filling, but the bagel itself. a good bagel could make sawdust and coffee grounds delicious, and no filling on earth can save a bad bagel. 

there are, of course, mediocre bagels in the world, but those are best treated with the same respect as ordinary sandwich bread, and filled accordingly.

14.  Favorite mug you own

i don’t own a ton of mugs, but since, i’m home with my parents right now, and they have a whole collection, i’ll give me favorite of theirs, which is my mom’s spock mug.

what makes this mug special is that it’s as big in terms of volume as a cappuccino mug without actually being one. instead of being as wide or wider than it is tall like a cappuccino mug, it has the same proportions as a normal mug, just scaled up. this makes it easier to hold, and easier to drink from, while still being fucking huge. plus, the wide mouths of cappuccino mugs when compared to their height mean that anything held in them goes cold in five seconds flat, while this mug has the upright shape of a traditional mug and so holds heat longer.

also, this mug has spock on it.

27.  What section do you immediately head for when you walk into a bookstore?

i’m not a huge bookstore person? i’m very hesitant about acquiring new material possession which have a finite term of usefulness, even moreso if i have to actually pay for them, and i am well aware that i will read most books only once, and some not at all. for actual reading material, i tend to prefer libraries or ebooks, to keep from adding more unmanageable clutter to my disastrous living space. libraries especially, since they’re free, and also i have a deadline to either read the damn book or give up on it.

in libraries, i tend to head for either the y.a. or adult genre fiction sections, since that’s what i go for, though usually when i come into a library i already have a book in mind. i also tend to head to audiobooks. i love audiobooks, they’re wonderful, i’ve gotten through so many books that way.

however, when i do go to bookstores, i don’t go to the stuff i would normally actually read. in more chain-y, new-book bookstores, i tend to go to the novelty books, the kind of stuff libraries don’t have. coffee table books with pictures of cats, comic collections, joke books. and i tend to check out the displays, see what’s up. 

i’m also way more likely to go to the nonfiction sections of these kinds of bookstores than used bookstores or libraries, for two reasons. first, because i tend to think nonfiction makes for good gifts. if you give someone a book it comes with strings attached, no matter what, but those strings are different for different kinds of books. a novel comes with an obligation to read it cover to cover, and not just read it, but enjoy it, or at least come up with an interesting opinion on its contents. a nonfiction book does not have to be enjoyable, merely informative, and it’s a lot easier to be informed by a book than to like one. plus, most of the time you don’t actually need to read the whole thing, because although they do tend to have overall arcs and maybe overarching arguments, a lot of nonfiction books can be informative even if consumed in small chunks. second, because in chain-y, new book bookstores, the nonfiction section tends to be glutted with the sort of fun, digestible pop-nonfiction that i tend to read if i must go for nonfiction, while libraries and used bookstores run more towards the drier, probably more informative but less enjoyable sort.

in used bookstores, i tend towards a different pattern. what i look for in used bookstores is stuff that’s interesting because it’s old. cookbooks, art books, fifty cent science fiction novels. i especially like very old history and social science books; near my college there was a used bookstore that had an entire shelf of psychoanalysis books, and another of histories of like, medieval european art and design, all written in like the forties. the kind of stuff that’s out of print so wouldn’t be in a new bookstore, but is probably outdated, inaccurate, useless, and unpopular, so it isn’t in too many libraries either.

47.  How do you top your ice cream?

i’m not a huge ice cream person? like, ice cream gives me a stomach ache pretty much uhhhh always. if i’m having it in my house, scooped into a bowl, i don’t generally top it with anything, ditto with stuff i get from an ice cream shop, but the most common way i eat ice cream is actually in like, bar form? like you know those dove bars, like a bar of vanilla ice cream dipped in chocolate. does that count?

i definitely like stuff mixed into my ice cream, i’m a fiend for cookie dough and brownie chunks. maybe my favorite ice cream flavor ever came from a local ice cream shop which has tragically since shut down. it was called kettle crunch and it had chocolate covered potato chips mixed in.

i guess i always get toppings at like, those trendy froyo places that go by weight and have a buffet of toppings? but honestly, when i go to those places, i rarely get any actual froyo. usually i just fill my bowl with popping boba because they always have it and i love it. i get some fruit too, and sometimes i get some of the candy, like a few gummy worms or a kit kat. but the popping boba is the star of the show.

ok now i’ve gotten distracted researching buying popping boba online. apparently it’s not hard, but it seems like a lot of the time it comes in seven pound bucket. like i could get a small amount of the common flavors, but i have just now right now discovered that there is such a thing as chocolate popping boba and i’m losing it because it only comes in seven pound buckets but i need it.

also, chilli pepper popping boba, which has the same problem, but also holy fuck.

[iwritefanficsometimes]

It’s A Magic Garden

So, bouncing off @babywarg‘s gardening Stephen idea from this post, and inspired by where the good things grow by anchors from the BBC Sherlock fandom, I present Gardening Stephen, entranced Tony, supervising Cloak of Levitation and me gratuitously making up how magic works for the MCU.

I actually edited this!? Idk why this fic about a magic garden is the one where I decided to try out this kind of formal narration style, but here we are. Also, the tense is consistent! I usually just let it flip between past and present and dot fix it, but this fic again... is written in such a formal way? I had to fix it. Anyway I love. Enjoy.

———

A certain Master of the Mystic Arts in deep blue robes, absent one red cloak, was kneeling at a the foot of a patch of newly turned soil. The work was tiring, but it was good for strengthening his hands, and it served a greater purpose.

Looking on in silence, hands tucked into suit pants pockets and sunglasses perched low on his nose, was a genius, billionaire, world savior, philanthropist. He looked around for a familiar red cloak and found it floating in the shade of the nearby building. A rooftop garden the billionaire would have understood, but a garden on the other side of the planet accessed by portal seemed excessive even to him.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help?” The Master didn’t look up. His yellow gloves were nearly elbow high and covered in dirt from fingertips to palms. A small trowel created lines in the closest patch of soil, hands shaking but mostly steadied by the drag of trowel on earth.

Tony Stark took that as an invitation to come closer, which it most certainly was. “Sorry, Doc. Wasn’t sure I was welcome.”

Stephen Strange rolled his eyes and pointed to the seedlings that were nestled into a small holeless pot. “Put one of those every two inches here.” He pointed to the crevice he’d just created with his trowel. He didn’t have to say he couldn’t do it because of his shaking hands. He didn’t have to say please or use excessive kindness in his voice. Tony just stepped forward and picked up the pot that had been indicated.

“I don’t think I’ve played in the dirt since I was a child.” Tony said as he knelt in the dirt beside Stephen and carefully picked up one seed at a time to plant in the rows as directed.

“Press them in with your ring finger, no more than a half inch deep.” Stephen said absently as he moved to another patch of dirt and began turning earth. His hands ached near to the point of him needing a break, but Stephen knew his own limits and would stop himself when it was truly necessary. “And we’re not playing. We’re planting.”

“Bold of you, to include me in your planting.”

“Stupid might be the more accurate word,” Stephen smirked.

Tony snorted when he failed to hide his own amusement and started pressing seeds in like he’d been instructed. The earth beneath his bare fingers was cool but lively, sucking him in and holding him steady. He stopped pressing to just hold his fingers against the soil and feel the pulse of the earth.

Stephen noticed the pause and smiled, turning his head away to hide it from Tony.

“It’s a magic garden,” he explained, breaking Tony out of his reverie.

Tony huffed a laugh. “I don’t know why I expected anything less. What are we planting?”

“Mostly herbs and plants that are hard to find in the wild due to human distruption of their habitats. What plants do survive we try not to disturb. The soil within this boundary has been enchanted to allow what ever is planted here to thrive.” Stephen finished turning over the soil and started trying to make lines through the dirt, but his hands were too unsteady to produce anything like rows. He took a deep breath and accepted his limitation, putting his trowel down and sitting back on his heels, giving his hands and back some time to rest while Tony continued planting seeds.

“You okay there, Strange?” Tony asked when he noticed Stephen stop. The yellow gloves did little to hide the tremors in Stephen’s hands that only seemed to have gotten worse since Tony arrived.

Stephen thought about how to answer that, but eventually nodded. “I just need to rest my hands.”

“Want me to take over the line making?” Tony asked, putting the pot of seeds aside.

“No, I can do it, I just need to rest. Please continue with the seeds.” Stephen looked at Tony with such earnest eyes and a kind smile that Tony couldn’t help but smile back and give a mocking little salute.

“If the Doctor orders.”

“I do.” He let his wide smile drop into just barely upturned lips and closed his eyes, letting his shoulders relax and steadying his breathing. Meditation usually helped some with the frustration of being unable to do what he knew were simple tasks for other people. It also sometimes helped the pain, but Stephen never counted on it.

Tony planted his last seed and then looked over at Stephen, noticing his stillness and closed eyes. He didn’t want to disturb the man, so he waited patiently, knelt beside him on the earth, completely ruining his slacks and the shine on his shoes. Somehow that didn’t seem to matter

When Stephen finally took a deep breath and his eyes fluttered open, Tony was staring at him in gentle wonder, his own restless mind having found peace in catalouging Stephen’s every minute feature.

“Are you entertained?” Stephen asked, a small upturn to his lips.

“Very.” Tony smirked back, drawing a full smile out of Stephen. He looked at the planted seeds and took a second to scrutinize them before nodding at Tony’s work. “Those look good, take the water can and get the soil wet along each of the rows. You don’t want to drown the seeds, just make sure they’re moist.”

Tony smirked at Stephen’s use of the word moise and Stephen rolled his eyes at him. “You’re a child.”

“I’m young at heart.” He took the water can without protest and felt like something out of an old kids cartoon or a ninteen fifties housewife parody as he tipped the can and dozens of streams of water rained down over the newly planted seeds.

Stephen took another second to rest before he began dragging his trowel intentionally through the dirt, creating rows again, these slightly wider apart than the ones previously.

“Why are they wider?” Tony asked, pointing with a free finger towards Stephen’s working patch of dirt.

“The plants here will need more space once they begin to mature. They’ll grow in girth as well as in height.”

Tony snorted at “girth” and again Stephen rolled his eyes, doing his best to suppress an amused smile.

Tony finished watering well before Stephen was done and he took the time to just watch him. The way his hands were slow to make up for their unsteadiness. The dirt stained yellow gloves that seemed far too formal for gardening. The same lock of black hair that always fell into Stephen’s face was limp from sweat and sun. It was endearing.

Tony reached forward with dirt covered fingers and brushed the strand back, accidentally leaving a streak of earth across his forehead. He laughed as Stephen glared at him, taking the relatively useless pocket square from the pocket of his jacket and using it to wipe the dirt away.

Stephen’s glare softened at Tony’s warm smile.

Tony brightened.

“I think I’m ready for a lunch break. You?”

Stephen looked at his not quite complete rows, contemplates the throbbing in his hands and finally said, “I could eat.”

Stephen refused to make a portal to Guadalajara for Tony’s favorite restaurant, so they compromised and went to a restaurant not far from the Sanctum where the “Mexican” food was so Americanized for tourists that it was unrecognizable, but it was delicious and they let it slide.

[literallyusuk]

Eagle (USUK) Part 6

Notes: Sorry that it’s been so long! But hopefully the next chapter will be out sooner. Link to my AO3 is on the side of my blog! ^0^

~~~~~

Arthur didn’t even know how to react when Alfred stumbled and almost fell over. He was still frozen, still shocked, and all he could do was watch as Ludwig and Feliciano bundled Alfred away into the same room he’d been in. His mouth was dry, and he couldn’t concentrate on either his food or the television. Alfred. Alfred was here. Alfred was alive.

Alfred…still didn’t remember anything.

He wanted to cry. He did, face buried in the kitten pillow and chest aching. He’d just about managed to move on. Most of Alfred’s stuff was gone, except a box of things that Arthur couldn’t bear to donate. Coming home was no longer painful. His heart didn’t jump when someone on the street happened to have a similar hair colour or style. So of course Alfred had to come back now, complicate everything again.

“Arthur?” Feliciano was stood at the edge of the couch, his eyes soft and sad. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur muttered. “I don’t know what to do, what to say. I love him, of course I do, but am I even in love with him anymore? We’re both different people now.”

“Hmm.” Feliciano sat down next to him, but made sure to keep a few inches of space between them.. “Luddy and I are different people now too.”

“You became different together. You grew and changed alongside each other. Alfred… Alfred all but came back from the dead and the first thing he did was point a gun in my face.”

“That’s true. Are you scared, Arthur?”

Arthur sighed and loosened his grip on the pillow. “No. Yes. Well… A little. How can I not be? But I hate that I am, because I- I can’t help but hope that my Alfred is still somewhere in there.”

Feliciano reached across the distance between them and pulled Arthur into a one-armed hug. “You won’t know until you talk to him. Don’t worry so much. I know that’s a silly thing to say, but really. There’s nothing you can do about it now except take care of yourself. Eat. Drink. Cry all you want. I can bring you your phone if you need it, but you should probably use mine if you’re going to call someone.”

“Why?” Arthur frowned at him.

“Well, if Alfred was sent to kill you and you’re alive and in hiding, you should probably be dead by now. So you shouldn’t use your number anymore.”

Arthur swallowed at the reminder. “…Yes, I suppose that’s true. Thank you.”

Feliciano smiled brightly. “Of course! I’ll go get it for you. Eat, please.”

While the Italian was off fetching the device, Arthur turned his attention back to the lasagne. His stomach was feeling touchy and tender, but he thought that with small bites and plenty of breaks, he could manage to keep some of it down. The pasta was delicious, and the herbal tea helped settle his nerves somewhat. He was even able to focus on the television better, though his shoulders were still tense. His body was hyper aware that Alfred – AlfredAlfredAlfred – was just in the room next door. They were only separated a wall, instead of the Veil.

Please let him be in there, he thought, and shoved more lasagne into his mouth.

“Here you go,” Feliciano said a few minutes later, placing Arthur’s phone and another unlocked smartphone onto the table.

“Thank you,” Arthur murmured. When he unlocked his phone, the message thread between him and his co-worker/manager popped up. He frowned, especially when he noticed the last three texts. One that he’d definitely not written, making an excuse for himself, and two from Elizaveta. The last one was just from half an hour ago.

Are you okay though?

His stomach twisted. Alfred had for sure been thorough, but the fact remained that the other man had gone through his phone. He checked a few other places, his internet history, his recycling bin, his photo albums, but nothing else strange came up until he looked at his call history. A strange number, and a six minute call. Arthur glanced around to make sure he was alone before double tapping the number to call it back.

It was picked up after four rings. “Alfred?” an accented voice asked. “What the hell man, it’s the middle of the night.”

Arthur’s hand tensed its grip on the phone. “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” The voice suddenly sounded more awake, and more serious.

“I asked first, and besides that I want to know how you know Alfred and why Alfred called you from my cell phone.”

“Oh…” The man drew out the sound. “Are you Arthur Kirkland, by any chance?”

Arthur further stiffened. “How do you know my name?”

“Relax, I’m not the enemy. My name’s Gilbert Beilschmidt, I’m a friend of Alfred’s from the program. Ludwig’s my little brother. You two still at his house?”

“Y-Yes. Alfred is asleep now. What program do you mean?”

Gilbert was quiet for a moment. “Information is dangerous. It would be better, and safer, if Alfred explained it all. How did you even come across this number? Did Alfred not delete the call from the phone’s history?”

“No.”

“Bastard. Well you delete it. Both of the calls. And here’s some advice: get a new phone and number asap. I have to go. Tell Alfred to call me early tomorrow morning.” The connection went dead.

Slowly, Arthur lowered the phone to his lap. After a moment, he wiped the call history entirely, then cleared the recycle bin and phone’s memory. He swallowed again, so worn out, and more confused than ever. ‘Eat. Drink,’ Feliciano had said, so he did. The lasagne was barely heated anymore and his tea lukewarm, but he managed to finish both the plate and the mug. Only then did he feel ready to pick up his phone again and open Elizaveta’s contact profile. Feliciano’s phone was luckily still unlocked, so he typed her number into the dial screen on it.

“Hello?” she picked up after a few rings.

“Hi, Liz.”

“Oh my god, Arthur, are you okay? What number is this?”

“I’m shaken, but alright for the moment. This is…a friend’s phone. Mine is out of commission.”

“Out of- Arthur, you’re not making any sense. You’re ‘alright for the moment’? What’s that supposed to mean? You’re being really evasive, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Ar-”

“I don’t know, Liz,” Arthur snapped. He then sighed and pinched his nose. “Something happened with someone I love. I’m still mostly in the dark myself, so I can’t tell you everything. But I’m physically alright right now. I’m…sorry I raised my voice at you.”

“It’s okay,” Elizaveta replied. “It sounds like you’re under a lot of stress.”

“I really am. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more at the moment.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe. I’ll cover for you at work no problem, you just focus on yourself and the situation. And let me know if I can do anything to help.”

Arthur smiled. “Thanks, Lizzie. You’re the best.”

“You know it.” Elizaveta chuckled. A muffled call grabbed her attention for a moment, and she was apologetic when she returned. “A last minute customer’s come in, so I have to go. I’m glad you called though, Art, I’ll see you later.”

“See you,” Arthur murmured, and hung up. He hoped he would be able to see her again, though with how Ludwig didn’t even let him look out the window, he wasn’t sure what would happen.

He was still alone in the room, so after a moment he took the empty dishes to the kitchen and started washing them. The sound of running water must have alerted Feliciano, because he came through the doorway a few minutes later.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that!” He tried tugging Arthur away from the sink, but the Brit was having none of it.

“It’s better than just sitting around and waiting,” he said, gently shaking Feliciano off.

“I guess that’s true,” Feliciano replied with a little laugh. “I’ll dry.” Together, they started working through the rest of the dishes in the sink. Feliciano watched Arthur carefully, and after another moment spoke. “Alfred’s probably going to be out for the rest of the night. Luddy thinks it’d be too big of a risk to move him, though, so we’ll set up a cot for you okay?”

“Okay, yeah. That’ll be fine. Thank you so much for everything, really.”

Feliciano’s face grew pensive. “It’s…scary. When Luddy’s brother Gilbert got out of the secret program, Luddy and I had to go away to Finland for a few months to make sure we’d be safe. Gil told us his friend Alfred helped get him out though, so if we can help Alfred and you now, that makes me happy and I want to do it, no matter how scary it is.”

“…You’re very brave,” Arthur told him softly.

“I’m not,” Feliciano said with another chuckle. “But having Luddy and Gil looking out for us helps me feel safer.”

“Do you think…” Arthur shifted from foot to foot. “Do you think you’d be able to tell me about what it was like? When Gilbert returned.”

“Oh! Oh yes, of course!” Feliciano smiled and got down two fresh mugs. “Do you want some more tea though?”

Arthur huffed out a laugh. “Well I can’t refuse tea,” he said as he filled the kettle with water and turned it on. A few minutes later, they were both settled on the couch again.

“Luddy thought Gil had died in a car accident. That’s how Gil told us they – the program, that is – recruits people. Oh, and the program is this secret thing that creates super skilled assassins? So they can kill people in governments they don’t like. Or something like that. Gil didn’t really want to talk about it too much, so Luddy and I didn’t ask.”

“Did… Was Gilbert sent to kill Ludwig?”

Feliciano looked momentarily horrified, but he then gave a loud laugh. “No, no. From what we know, Gil just wasn’t good at following orders and it was really hard to brainwash him and one day he did some digging and found his file. Then, with Alfred’s help, he was able to get out. I don’t know how it happened, though.” He looked down, smiling sadly at the table. “He just showed up at our door one evening. Ludwig cried a lot. It was…hard. Gilbert didn’t remember anything at first, which made both him and Luddy sad and frustrated. Luddy had his brother back, but not really, and Gil wanted to be normal but he just couldn’t be.”

Arthur knew Ludwig’s feelings well. But the question was, did Alfred want to be ‘normal’? Did he know what normal had been? “Did it get better?”

“Yeah, but slowly.” Feliciano’s fingers tapped away at the rim of the mug. “And there were lots of tense times too. Gil had bad nightmares, and Luddy didn’t let me be alone with Gil for a while after he found Gil’s guns. But the more they talked and spent time together, the more they understood each other again and some of Gilbert’s memories came back too.”

“Some, but not all?”

“Do you remember every single thing that’s happened to you? The important ones came back, and some really small moments keep coming back even now.”

Arthur nodded. “Thank you for telling me all of this, Feliciano. It’s helped put me at ease a little bit.”

“I’m glad.” Feliciano beamed. “It makes me so happy that I could help! I really hope that things work out with you and Alfred.”

“Thank you. I…I really hope so too. Someone out there has given us a second chance.”

Feliciano glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Alfred did. Alfred gave you a second chance even when he didn’t remember much. I know you’re hurting, but so is he. And you’re both allowed to. But try not to take yours out on him, because he’s a victim too.” When Arthur shot him an almost scandalised look, Feliciano chuckled and waved a hand. “I was getting a feeling you might get uh…accusatory? With him.”

Arthur pursed his lips and thought about it for a moment. Eventually, he had to concede that yeah, it was likely his own hurt would have caused him to get aggressive with Alfred. “…Perhaps.”

“It’s understandable. You were really hurt. You both were.”

“…Yeah.”

They lapsed into silence after that, with Feliciano giving Arthur some time to think over the new information and re-process his feelings. Arthur sipped at his tea, and though his chest still felt scrubbed raw, he didn’t think that he would cry so easily, or pass out again. His mind was racing through possibilities instead; what Alfred might say, what he might do, and where they would both go from here. Would he even be able to go back ho-

His eyes widened. “Vicky.”

“Hm?”

“Feliciano, are you or Ludwig allergic to cats?”

“No.” Feliciano’s eyes lit up. “Do you have one?”

“Yes. Would my friend be able to bring her here? She’s an older lady, so she won’t cause any fuss.”

“Mmm, I don’t see a problem with it, but Luddy might want to drive over and get your kitty himself, for safety and stuff.”

“I don’t mind. As long as I can get my Vicky.”

Feliciano smiled and slid over his phone. “Call your friend. She can at least check on your Vicky until you can be reunited. Does Alfred know her?”

Arthur’s gaze lowered. “We adopted her together. He should remember, but she’s just a little cat, so it’s quite unlikely.”

“How about her remembering him?”

“It’s been so long, I’d be very surprised, but maybe…”

“Well it’s possible! I’m gonna go check on Luddy, see if he needs anything.” With a reassuring grin towards Arthur, Feliciano stood up and vanished into the guest bedroom.

Arthur stared at the phone for a few seconds, and sighed before tapping on the most recent call in the history.

“Arthur?” Elizaveta sounded worried. “What’s up, why are you calling? Did something happen?”

“No, nothing serious. I just remembered that Vicky’s home all alone. Would you be able to take her to your place for the night?”

“Oh, sure! Poor thing, I bet she’s worried since it’s so late and you haven’t come home yet. I can take her for a few days, if you need it.”

Arthur hesitated, his grip tightening on the phone again. “No, no… My friend will come pick her up tomorrow. From the store, in the morning.”

There was a silence from Elizaveta’s side of the line as well. “Arthur, you know you…you can trust me, right?”

“I know.” Arthur was glad no one could see his flinch.

“Then why won’t you tell me-”

“It’s not a matter of trust, Liz. It’s a matter of safety. Keep your head down, don’t go poking around, don’t ask questions, don’t answer questions.”

Another silence, then, quietly, “What have you gotten yourself into?”

“Something very scary. But please, just- Vicky.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course I’ll go grab her.”

“Thank you. Either Ludwig, a big blond or Feliciano, a small brunet, or both, will come by the shop to pick her up tomorrow.”

“Alright. See you soon?”

“See you soon.” Arthur ended the call and watched the screen fade to black as he locked the phone. “I hope.”

Both Ludwig and Feliciano emerged from the guest bedroom a few minutes later, and bustled about to set up the cot. Feliciano also gave him a change of clothes for the night, which were a tiny bit snug but overall fit when Arthur changed into them. He helped them with the duvet and blanket, though he couldn’t help occasionally peeking over at the closed door to the guest room.

“Alfred is still asleep,” Ludwig told him.

Arthur couldn’t help jolting a little bit. “Oh- yes, I figured. That’s good, I suppose. I’m just a bit nervous. He’s right there.”

“And yet he isn’t.”

Green eyes turned to meet pale blue, full of understanding. “And yet he isn’t.”

“He will come back. Just like Gilbert did.” Ludwig clapped him on the back.

Arthur gave him a small smile. “I hope so. Thank you again for your help, really. It means so much to me.”

“Of course. Now go get some sleep. Lots of important conversations will happen tomorrow.”

The smile became somewhat strained. “Yeah.” The rest of their lives would be decided tomorrow, and the day after. “Thank you. Good night, both of you.”

Feliciano gave him a little wave, then tugged Ludwig off towards the master bedroom, Ludwig’s arm wrapped protectively over his shoulders. That door clicked shut seconds later, and Arthur was left alone again. He couldn’t help himself and crept over to the guest bedroom, cracking that door open.

A shaft of light spilled over the floor towards the bed, providing just enough brightness for Arthur to be able to see Alfred’s face. Alfred was laid out on his back, a cloth covering his forehead. His arms were on top of the sheets, hands fisted tight with tension. Arthur’s heart squeezed again. The man in the bed didn’t look very different. His old heartbreak from Paris roared through him again, and was slowly replaced by tentative euphoria at the sight of Alfred’s breathing. Alfred was alive.

And as he watched, Arthur knew that he was still attracted to him. Still loved him.

Fingers trembling, he closed the door again and shut the lights off before sitting down on the edge of the bed. His heart refused to slow down, and new butterflies hatched in his stomach each second. Alfred was alive. Alive! Briefly, he imagined kissing Alfred again. Holding Alfred again, loving Alfred again. He shuddered with pleasure at the thought, and longing filled him. Alfred hadn’t killed him, hadn’t hurt him. So while it was all a fantasy at the moment, there was now a chance Arthur’s deepest desires could become reality again. He just had to wait.

Arthur fell back against the pillows and eased himself under the covers, curling up with one of the extra pillows in his arms. He fell asleep minutes later, his mind still fixated on the possibilities.

It was dark when he jerked awake, his body tense. There was someone at his bedside, and before he could scream they pressed a hand over his mouth.

[philosapphos]

a fleeting memoir.

I don’t know how to write a great book. All I know how to do is feel. 

At my university, his eyes narrow as he skims through my writing. “You should cut down on the adjectives. And be more precise.” During the semester, I learn how to write quietly, obediently holding my hands between the walls of the keyboard. The writing was programmatic: a steady string of code to create tight, virus-free argumentation. I feel like I was choking during my lectures and would run afterward toward the campus gardens, gasping for air. 

It’s always raining in the classics. Whether it’s the European drizzle of existentialist contemplation and ennui, the dreary Scandinavian sleet, or just the histrionic downpour of a popular romance, something about water falling from the sky touches the soul. I moved from California to England a few years ago. Upon meeting me, everyone would always joke about the weather. Even at its most aggravating, there’s still something slightly mad and magical about getting wet from the rain: from the child’s ecstasy to splashing in puddles to the bursts of unexpected showers. Film is awash with portraits of a dark-haired woman, her face and arms lifted, her eyes closed, rain streaming down her hands and cheeks: a worship of the skies and sea, bathed in baptismal rivers, rising toward truth like an ancient Niniane. 

So let’s imagine it’s raining in this story: the tale of a brunette woman in her early twenties, sliding out of her damp coat as she settles into a library desk. The world outside is darkly wet but she is wrapped around the warm glow of a favorite book, smiling softly as she turns each page. 

As she moves through time, she loses herself for a bit, as young minds tend to do; drifting away into a third-person binocular gaze of her own life. One day, as though reminded of a long-lost childhood friend, she glanced into the mirror and feels a dull ache of recognition.  

Through a series of unfortunate events, she had become an academic. (She smirks to herself as she writes that.) Clever enough to critique the system, with a delicate list of degrees lifting her above the rest of society. The academy was a castle (a fortress), and she strolled its hallways, draped in elegance. The world lay like a lavish fur at her feet: it wasn’t until years later that she noticed the delicate golden chains wrapped around her wrists.  

People will think that this is an intellectual book because its text winks at readers with graduate degrees and aspirations of Platonic cerebrality. Unfortunately, the protagonist is an ordinary human: a body of neurochemical imbalances and menstruation and psychologically complex sexual urges. I am writing a story about a woman. 

Rilke writes about solitude: about the world created within the self, the infinite loneliness and the sweet-sounding lamentations of its suffering. “There I shall live all winter and rejoice in the great quiet.” Like most people living in the recurring buzz of a city, she was lonely. She often found her peace within the walls of her apartment: a silent altar to herself, as if she were living wrapped up in the pages of her diary. She hung her friends’ art up on the walls, framed photographs of her family, and filled her bed with soft, silky fabrics. She would light incense and candles, and fill the air with soft beats of music: purifying the space, making this ground holy. 

She was a graduate student, which meant everybody outside of academia thought she was brilliant and everyone inside of academia thought she was rather interesting and worthwhile. She grew up spoonfed the myth of the metals, told the tales again and again of her own precocious cleverness, of her mystical intelligence. She read far above her grade level and overextended her vocabulary. When she was young, she called herself a bookworm, and when she was older, she called herself a sapiosexual. At twelve years old, she dressed up as Athena and silently worshipped the goddess of wisdom (—she would ignore the war and weaving part). 

She was also enraptured by Boudicca. She grew up on McCaughrean’s Brittania and D'Aulaires' Book Of Greek Myths. She was fascinated by the portrait of powerful women, radiant in their own strength. She loved mermaids, selkies, sirens: those dark and dangerous women of the seas. Boudicca rode in the streets of her city, naked except for her long hair, which wrapped itself around her body: history painted an eroticized form of the woman, straddling a horse, pale skin and trembling lips; tresses enticingly, teasingly feigning at modesty. Boudicca’s performance to make some statement, some protest against patriarchy or injustice, but it was clear to her, even as a girl, that this story was not a political one. The sculpture of Justice may be a blinded woman in robes, but there is nothing more appalling than a hysterical female voice screeching for equality. 

I don’t remember when I first discovered feminism: I only remember hating women as a child. I found a notebook once, filled with a child’s scrawl, where I exclaimed that I was so glad to be clever—not silly and pretty like most girls. As I grew into adolescence, I occasionally cast longing glances at the other girls: with their golden curls and million-dollar smiles, exquisite little dolls of coiffed femininity and rich daddies. I went to a whiskey bar recently that embodied a kind of polished masculinity: mustached waiters in tweed vests over cuffed white shirts and sculpted forearms, busts of hunted deer and other achievements of man, wooden bookshelves filled with elegantly muted book collections. It was another kind of holy place: where one kneels before the marble mantelpiece in obeisance to the power-hungry colonizer. 

My sexuality began to emerge in the office of a professor: his mahogany desk looming around me, legs spread nonchalantly in an easy authority. My heartbeat quickened, knees crossed primly in a skirt, as I blushed and asked questions about the course. Lower your voyeuristic eyes: these encounters never went beyond a comment or an accidental touch. My years as an undergraduate were spent daydreaming over my notes, talking about the world over coffee, and thinking about sex in the library. I liked that momentary hesitation of surprise as I casually mentioned something sexual from my studies: a metaphysical puzzle about pornography, the liberatory rise of polyamory to dethrone an antiquity of monogamy, the darkly wrung layers of power within sadomasochism. Perhaps it was there that I found feminism: from a language of embodying oppression flowered forth the idea that surrender could be empowering. The thought was a pearly light: the gift of femininity, of submission and release—and the deep, silent power within. 

I found my sexual power like the rest of my generation: by exerting a measure of control over the other. It was a prize to hold enticingly before them; deliciously unattainable. To have something that someone else wants: that is the only measure of worth in a capitalist landscape. The mouth of the cave was enticing: that insidious allure of Pandora’s box. Suddenly, it was no longer enough to be intelligent: one must be desirable as well. Like a trophy held above the heads of others: they needed to see the prize and want it for it to be special. She saw herself as a tightrope dancer: balancing the power of the mind with the desires of the flesh. It was an elaborate performance, a practiced soliloquy for a darkened theatre: one hopes dearly for an audience.  

I spent a year as a professor. I recall a single frozen scene: it is raining outside of the coffee shop and I am listening to achingly melancholy French music (Les mémoires blessées, Crier tout bas). I prepared my mind and body for each lecture as though I were entering a gladiatorial ring: I neatly typed and stapled my handouts, and slid into a modest knee-length dress that subtly held close to my waist and dipped along my collarbones. My clothes felt like a costume for a 1960s-style secretary or stewardess: cleanly washed with a mildly sweet perfume, hair twisted into a tidy chignon, legs folded at a desk with my books stacked in alphabetical order. I answered emails in a timely manner, graded with a kind but firm hand, and smiled with the vacantly polite gaze of customer service. I checked my evaluations diligently and tried to be likable and friendly, welcoming my students into the warm hearth of philosophy and letting them wander through my home. They would step in for a moment, tracing their fingers along the spines of the books, glancing over at me as if I were an aspect of the furniture as much as the shelves. I felt like a salesman, smiling indulgently and explaining to the unimpressed consumer why they should consider getting into academia. I model prettily, showing them the life that they could have: the picture of success in this tier of society. I still see other professors twisting into this routine: the assumed air of authority, the dignified crown of the philosopher-king. Like prophets of an ancient religion, they share their advice with all and teach the one true path toward enlightenment: the rigor and the rituals of knowledge. Like any good advertisement, they draw others in with a manufactured sense of humanity: the self-deprecating humor, the melodramatic tearing of cloth and hair at self-imposed deadlines, the pale, bony thinness of perfectionism, wasting away before an audience of other performers. 

In academia, we hide our faces under a paper-mache mask of stiffly inked degree papers and watery excuses of endless busyness. A Kafkaesque artist of twisted, exhibitionistic self-torment, a Pharisee loudly lamenting a self-inflicted agony: the scholar fights to surpass another in self-flagellation, a mortification of the unbearably corporal flesh. “Only pain is intellectual.” We tout depression as an honorable badge of intellectual superiority—the masses are dead-eyed and drunk on a cocktail of prescription drugs and pre-packaged ideology. But those gifted, cerebral children can see through the painted backdrop and television lights: they witness reality as it is.

At its best, intellectualism is unhappy—at its worst, it is cruel. The 17th-century dramatist Jean Francine wrote that life is a comedy to those who think and a tragedy to those who feel. Some scholars do care, and care deeply: for them, a pedagogical journey is like excavating a lost city, brushing dirt away from crumbling walls, filled with warnings written in an ancient, dying tongue. Unearthing the skeletons of a forgotten history, a memory that humanity longs to forget. 

“It would be much better if, on the earth as little as on the moon, the sun were able to call forth the phenomena of life; and if, here as there, the surface were still in a crystalline state... In early youth, as we contemplate our coming life, we are like children in a theatre before the curtain is raised, sitting there in high spirits and eagerly waiting for the play to begin. It is a blessing that we do not know what is really going to happen. Could we foresee it, there are times when children might seem like innocent prisoners, condemned, not to death, but to life, and as yet all unconscious of what their sentence means.” (A. Schopenhauer, Lehre vom Leiden der Welt)

With the inevitable tumble into nihilism and absurdity, the rarity of the compassionate philosopher sinks deeply into the quicksands of despair. But what of the hermit, the ascetic, who casts aside the ropes of human connection? From the side of the hilltop, he looks down upon the ravaged city and laughs; like a dying man in a desert, watching his horse die before the mirage of a lush oasis. Perhaps I felt this way when I was younger: laughing at my freedom before the pilloried women, imprisoned in the bodysuits of gender. Perhaps I saw myself as androgynous: a sexless fae child with inexplicable knowledge of wordly things and a playful schadenfreude. 

As a child, I saw the pillars of women and their wisdom as arching tombstones in the chilling mist of my future, the inevitable decline into the pains of labor, that aching creation of an object to be snatched away from my grasp: the anonymity of motherhood. I longed to be a maker of worlds: to hold my hands in the raging welding fire and twist metal into mechanism. When asked why I chose to study philosophy over literature and history, I tell people that I never wanted to be relegated to Whitehead’s ‘series of footnotes’ on a great thinker. The idea of dedicating my life, fawning at the frozen feet of bygone wisdom, entangling myself in the discourse of another and attempting to organize their thoughts, struck me as debasing. 

I imagine these scholars as custodians, moving slowly along the great halls of the history of the mind: dusting off the tired exhibits, examining a relic of ancient wisdom, and guiding others to a particularly showy gallery of pop intellectualism. I longed to be one of the innovative elite: developing my own ideas and launching them out into the world like sleek silver rockets. 

Still, unbidden thoughts lift to a rising echo, like bloated corpses floating to the surface of a lake:

i. This too shall pass.

ii. The truth will always emerge. 

iii. Failure in life is inevitable. 

Why have we created lives that lack a solidity of meaning? The Aristotelian virtue of striving has been perverted into a constant desire for something out of reach. We exist in the hellish stance of Tantalus: the king of Sipylus who consumed his young in an unquenching burn for power. He was condemned to the agony of desire: emaciated, shaking fingers brushing against the soft, bruised flesh of a fruit he would never taste. I never understood why the Garden of Eden was a utopian paradise—Eve and Pandora have been damned by the priests of time for embodying that trait that is valorized in men: curiosity. The great men—the scientists, the philosophers, and the poets—have loudly proclaimed the glory of the inquisitive gaze, of those first pioneers who pressed into the darkness of the great unknown. Yet it is a sin for woman: feminine curiosity is prying, gossiping, the idle chatter of busybodies. The curious woman is one who should have known better, who ought to have kept her mouth shut: her questions are barren and vain. The moral of these ancient stories is simple: obey the commands of men and remain shrouded in ignorance. When offered knowledge or understanding, the good woman will look away and choose the path of purity. (“The innocent eye is blind, as the virgin mind is empty.”) 

I recently bought my mother a print transcribed with the cheerfully defiant line, “Well-behaved women rarely make history.” The sentiment is true, in the bland, platitudinal way of many inspirational quotes, but what is the fate of the women that do make history? Too often, their mangled corpses are left hanging on the city walls: a grim reminder to all of the merciless suppression of insurgent forces. 

Curious women are not considered clever: they are considered dangerous. Eve damned humanity to physical pain and scarcity; Pandora released a whirlwind of sickness and death; even Joan of Arc was burned with so many others at the stake. The women who refused to be ‘well-behaved’ are condemned to inhabit our nightmares as graffitied caricatures of the Furies: shrieking women wreaking havoc and suffering across the orderly landscape of civilization. 

Again and again, we watch these women bowing their heads to accept their punishment: Boudicca, Artemisia, and Cleopatra each died by their own hand. Western history relishes the tragic figure of Lucretia: a woman who was raped before committing suicide to preserve the honor of her father. Marble sculpture immortalizes the brutal rapes of Prosperina, of Europa, and the Sabine women. Even the Old Testament tells the story of a Levite throwing his concubine to a mob maddened with bloodlust in an effort to protect himself. She is brutally raped and murdered and, like Lucretia, she is marked as culpable for her rape: the Levite later dismembers her corpse by slicing her body into twelve pieces.

If only I had known before that the trinkets of intelligence and sexuality are finery on men, yet mark women out as scapegoats. A woman told me yesterday of a line that resonated deeply with her: “Give no-one cause to fear you.” To me, it sounded like a warning. Intelligent women are intimidating—I am told this time and time again. Men are afraid of women who out-earn them, both in pay and degrees. They are terrified of being laughed at by women—and this fear quickly boils into a destructive rage. The woman who smiles at the wrong time is beaten, raped, and murdered; the confident, curious woman is seen to invite her own destruction. 

Academia is like wandering into a gilded museum and gagging upon the stark realization that the naked bodies of your mother and sister are hanging from the walls. Silently slipping into the room, you can feel the hands of men reaching for you next. 

The kindest death that I face is to be ignored and silenced. My words have already been torn away from me or kicked into the shadows, and I have already been punished for my ideas. Men only respect other men. The esteemed title of ‘philosopher’ is unattainable unless I contort myself into masculinity. Either I must destroy the woman or they will do so. 

Catherine Malabou writes on the contradiction of a ‘woman philosopher’: “Philosophy is woman’s tomb. It grants her no place, no space whatsoever, and gives her nothing to conquer... The possibility of philosophy is thus largely premised on the impossibility of woman.”

Female philosophers are exiled to the land of poetry, where their writing is derided further. I like to say that my favorite philosophers are Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath: a comment that raises the eyebrows of male academics. These writers are mostly known for their highly publicized breakdowns and suicides: while madness is romanticized in male artists, it is scorned in women. 

The two cruellest labels against women are hysteria and gossip. The powerful wisdom of the emotions, the deep interpersonal insight of psychology have become degraded feminine ways of thinking. The kingdom of the heart, the knowledge of the self and of others, is ravaged by the pillaging armies of the mind. The ideal individual becomes a solitary agent, swathed in a protective layer of rights: he relies on nobody and protects only himself. A father is permitted to walk away at any time, while a mother never gives enough for her children. The nuanced intricacy of the web of care and dependency is wiped away in the blank face of laws and duties: men see themselves as tabula rasa, pretending to be immune to the deep memory of the womb from which they emerged. Plato wrote that the traumatic event of being born caused men to lose touch of their innate knowledge, while Socrates called himself a ‘midwife’—both espousing an ideology that men must be pulled away from the treacherous touch of woman in order to flourish into excellence. It is a mantra repeated again and again within the Western tradition: the mother is the passive soil of the earth, little more than a breathing incubator, while the father actively sows his seed and causes new life to spring forth. 

The medieval philosopher Boethius is known for proposing a theory of time, stretched out across eternity, where God stands as Being in a place apart from spatiotemporality, gazing down upon existence. He writes often of a single woman: Lady Philosophy. Even within the Romantic languages, where declension casts a shadow of gender across the syntax, the word ‘philosophy’ is feminine. So too can we return to Iustitia, the female figure of justice. In the masculine world of law and philosophy, why are the disciplines imagined as encapsulated by the female body? And why is this female body possessed only by the men who study her? 

The male gaze is not merely a visual technique of producing images of women that cater to an audience of heterosexual men. In feminist theory, the ‘male gaze’ is often imagined to be a lavascious position: the businessman watching the stripper sliding around the pole, the voyeuristic neighbor peeking through a young girl’s window as she dresses, the horny teenager scrolling through a disjointed compliation of fragmented genitalia and artificial moaning. 

But the ‘male gaze’ is the dominating gaze: there is power in the ways that we see. It is written as far back as the Genesis Rabbah: in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. To see is to rule over all, and the cruelest power is forcing another’s eyes open to gaze upon the unspeakable. MacKinnon writes that women live in sexual objectification the way fish live in water: not only does it surround us constantly, but it constitutes the only environment we have ever known. We see ourselves and other women through the blurred filter of this hierarchy—gender is not a dichotomy of body parts but rather a manufactured reality: nothing remains untouched by it. When men see philosophy and law as woman, they see themselves as her conqueror: explorers stepping foot on yielding, fertile ground, eager to ravage her body in imposing their structures of violence and cruelty. Within the institution of sovereign state, her life is nasty, brutish, and short. 

Do you remember the woman from the beginning of this story? Night has fallen and the library has grown cold around her. The austere portraits of men clad in greatness loom over her, reminding her that she will never join their ranks. The female body of classical art is nude, her limbs arranged invitingly. She smiles softly and asks no questions: she allows the viewer to take what he likes from her with a self-effacing brush of coy reserve. The woman has spent many hours studying the art of the Greco-Roman world, and she has never recognized herself in any of the half-lidded eyes of these soft, eroticized women. 

She once stood at a museum in front of a sculpture of Venus. The marble woman was crouching to the ground, as if kneeling before her viewer. Her arm curls across her upper body, obscuring the breast from direct view—her thighs are pressed together, and her hair falls in elegant waves across her face. Art historians have called her posture ‘playfully erotic’: a titillating peek-a-boo of sexuality behind a veil of feigned modesty. 

She imagined the marble woman standing up: pushing back her shoulders and jutting her chin upwards. She imagined looking at the marble woman directly in the eye. The sculpture is naked, but she is unashamed of her nakedness: like the endless depictions of the Athenian youth, her body is seen as a perfection of nature—strong and elegant architecture to house a dignified mind. 

This standing sculpture does not resemble the warrior women of the Amazon: fierce mythical women who sliced off their breasts in order to kill more effectively, rejecting their femininity to transform into virago. Our culture fantasizes about the Amazonian woman as female Ares: Diana, ferocious princess of the Amazons, is often depicted in armor and headgear. Even Athena is rarely depicted without her helmet and spear. 

But standing before us is not a warrior: she is simply a woman, and her body is simply a body. We can trace the muscles along her thighs, the soft rise and fall of her belly, the bones along her neck and shoulders. Her expression is unreadable: she gazes back to meet your eye, watching your movements. Standing before her, you seem to forget which one of you is the art and which is the audience. Perhaps you hold your breath, wondering if she will reach out to touch you. 

But the woman simply turns and walks away from you. Her marble feet make no sound as they climb down the pedestal and across the hallway. She was not created for you to look at her: she was created to exist, to experience the world through herself. 

One day, I find myself resting in a secret garden: there are stone walls surrounding me and in this hidden place, I have discovered the meaning of life. A grey cat is sleeping next to me and blue butterflies swim through the air, but there is no-one else here. I breathe deeply and on the exhale, my knowledge of time disappears: I float within the essence of reality and it is beautiful in its vast eternity. Like gazing upon the sea or the sky, I look at the world that I have created. With a smile that nobody will see, I press my lips against the small cat beside me and stand to leave. I retrace my steps by memory: across the hot desert sands and snowy mountaintops and finally to a familiar dirt path. I walk until I arrive at my childhood home. Tears spill over as I hold my mother, my sister: even my dog is there, her tail wagging in recognition. In Ithaca, I have found everything I was searching for. The rest of the marble melts away, and my story is just beginning.

[sixnna-contixllo]

Squigly's Birthday Out

When Squigly wakes up, the first thing she is treated to is a lovely handmade breakfast made by Simon and Daniel, both of whom present her the breakfast covered in a dusting of flour. The breakfast consists of fresh blueberry crepes served in a rich and delicate cream and shaved dark chocolate, served alongside a cup of Squigly’s favorite oolong tea with a careful mixture of honey and spices. On the tray is a handmade card, decorated by the little artist himself, and signed lovingly by each member of the family- Simon, Selene, Roberto, Leviathan, and Daniel. Inside the card reads.

“Happy birthday, Squigly! We hope we can make today wonderful for you! Enjoy your breakfast and get ready for what we got planned for you!”

While Squigly eats, Simon happily cuddles on his mother’s lap, the little bomb wrapping his arms around her as he snuggles into her. He loves getting to celebrate birthdays, how much fun they are, how happy they are when they celebrate together. Seeing his mother happy and smiling makes him so happy too, and when she enjoys what he and his father made makes it even better.

After breakfast, and everything is cleaned up, Daniel escorts Squigly to the bathroom, ready to give her the second treat of the day. Inside the bathroom, Daniel was gone above and beyond to make an absolutely superb bubble bath. Everything has been given plenty of attention, from the pink and white mountains of bubble foam swirling on the bubbling steaming water that give off sweet aromas of high-end perfume to the variety of candles and incense that twinkle in the dim room. Music pipes softly from the radio, a glass of relaxing red wine and a small plate of chocolates-in a heart-shaped box no less- sit aside magazines, books, and an awaiting neck pillow for Squigly to slip herself into and enjoy a nice rest.

And, as a special treat, Daniel gives Squigly what he describes as a “massage he picked up from reading a book on Eastern traditions” for a history part he wants to record. The massage involves warm oil, hot stones, and a special trick that involves sending soothing vibrations across the body to ease muscle joints. It’s nothing lewd, rather, Daniel takes his time to ensure he does everything right, from adding just the right amount of hot stones to balance soothing heat, to gently moving her arms and legs as she relaxes, making sure not to mess a single step up while his lover relaxes in her bath.

After the soothing bath, everyone gets ready to head out shopping. Selene would explain that, since it was kind of hard to pick out a single gift for her that they didn’t know if she had, they thought it would be a nice trip to take her to the shops and malls and let her pick out whatever she wishes. Daniel, however, almost mention something else but quickly stops himself before saying anything else.

At the mall, Squigly is taken through all sorts of shops and boutiques- bookstores, music shops, fashionwear of all varieties and styles, even a store that caters exclusively to retro items. Whatever she wants, be it clothes, books, a new radio, anything she desires the family makes sure she’ll receive. Money is no object for her, and whatever she wants, she will get. It’s not spoiling her, but rather letting her know that she is worthy of that type of care.

After the mall, with whatever Squigly got in bags and boxes, the Contiellos feel a bit hungry, so they decide to head to a little café and bakery just by the hotel, for a light lunch. There, among sandwiches, meats, pastas, and pastries, everyone orders a delicious lunch, enjoying some good old fashioned conversation and banter as any family would do, Simon happily drawing on the placemat with his always ready crayons as he cuddled in Daniel’s lap, to Roberto tells Daniel a story about when Squigly was younger, she once ate almost a whole cake and spent the rest of her birthday in bed, wiping icing off her face as she dealt with a stomach ache. This makes Squigly blush, and just as any woman would do, young or old, hides her face as her father relates such a story-although she can’t help but giggle at the silly thought of her at the age of 7, wiping buttercream from her cheeks as she sang Happy Birthday.

They come back to the house, and setting everything down, Leviathan reminds them that it is now 2:30, and they “must be getting ready if they’re to make it to 4:30.” At these words, everyone starts to get changed- although, Squigly doesn’t know why. Everyone starts to get showered and changed into more formal wear- suits, a formal dress, even Simon gets a little bath and polish with a little bowtie! Through all this, Squigly goes the flow, albeit a bit confused, as everyone just tells her it’s a surprise. Leviathan even answers with just a chuckle and a promise that he has be sworn to keep the secret just that- a secret, and she’ll find out soon.

At 3:45, everyone heads out, decked out in fancy formal wear. Daniel’s arm linked around Squigly’s, wearing a formal jacket that was kinda itchy in some spots but since Squigly said he looked handsome in kept it, his one arm gingerly cradling Simon, who was all bundled up in a white scarf to keep warm, Selene and Roberto behind them, with Leviathan keeping a close eye through Squigly’s head. The afternoon air was cool, kissed with the slowly setting sun to streak the endless ocean of blue above into a crimson and orange miasma. Past the crowd of people, be they those with four arms with one girl on each arm to the funky looking guys with the sunglasses and bags of money, Squigly is held close, not alone, but kept walking alongside her family, who eagerly thrill her with hints and stories of what her surprise would be. Simon draws a little picture to show her a big looking room, Selene and Roberto slyly suggest that perhaps it’ll be “much too late” to head back home, and Daniel could only blush and chuckle, kissing her cheek as she racks her brain to figure it out

Then, after hopping a train- the 4:30 Meridian Area Rapid- the Contiellos find themselves at their destination. Outside the gates of the Contiello Estate. The golden courtyard gates draped in streamers and balloons, limos and sports cars driven by flashy bachelors and old money line the circled drive leading to the massive opera house, which since restoration, has transformed into a breathing center of art, music, and celebration. The air is filled with music, swing jazz or the newest piece performed by in-house artists, laughter, cheering, the clinking of cocktail glasses. It’s a gala event- held by the Meridian Restoration Society, to display the walls and halls with memories of pre-Renoir tradition, music, songs and art.

To the Contiellos, it’s a dream from the past, molded and fixed here in plain sight. And, if you could see the look on Squigly’s face, she’d be flushed seven shades of purple how excited she was.

The evening is compromised of heading to the great hall, where tables stand lifted above a dance floor to watch couples and troupes dance to the melody of a 20-piece band. Here, the Contiellos rest, order some house wine, and enjoy the atmosphere. Roberto says this reminds him of when he first took Selene on their first date, with Leviathan playfully adding some commentary to his old master’s story, while Simon and Daniel busily tend to Squigly, delighting her with questions on how she likes it and what she wants to do first, which if they know Squigly, is enough to make her fluster like royalty.

Then, the family heads to the banquet hall, where they are served a banquet of epic proportions- lobster, steak, fresh cut roasts, exotic seafood imported from high-end shop, sushi, and poultry, as well as a dessert table of cakes, pastries, chocolates, and even a wine tasting table to taste old cultural flavors mixed with new broader flavors. The dinner hall is filled with lively conversation, even more so at the table where the Contiellos sit, where among plates of delicious food, they laugh and joke and talk, happy not to be here itself, but with those they care about.

Then, for Squigly’s final gift of the night- what would going to an opera house be without, you know, an opera? Escorted to a VIP booth looking above the stage, the Contiellos watch a show performed by some of the most up and coming actors and thespians of Canopy Kingdom. The booming orchestra fills the air, the sound of sopranos and baritones roll through the aisles, and the light flicker dramatically, as if to show the Contiellos the taste of opera they have helped to build. Daniel sits on a comfy couch with Squigly nuzzled to him, his jacket draped over her shoulder with Simon cuddled between them, Selene and Roberto on another couch, chuckling softly as they watch their family enjoy the show while nuzzling in each other’s arms.

After the thundering applause has ended, Squigly wonders what time they will be home- it is almost midnight, and do the trains even run, she wonders? But to this, Daniel smiles warmly and explains what the plan is. You see, he booked a suite here to stay a night and has sent their clothes over early in the day by courier from the opera house- thus, all they have to do is go to their suite, book in, change and relax.

And so, journeying through gilded halls and crowded rooms, the Contiellos ascend in a lift to the upper halls, to a suite waiting with their name marked on by a silver paper. In their suite, their suitcases lay neat on the bed, neon lights from the city outside pour in through the patio door, illuminating in shades of purple, white and gold a bucket of ice with fresh champagne and a small white box on the guest table. After everyone is changed to more casual attire, Simon eagerly fetches the little white box from the table and opens it for his mother to see.

Inside is a delicious, decadent, rich chocolate cake, topped with a layer of creamy white chocolate frosting, and topped with a colorful array of chocolate-dipped cherries and blueberries. In the middle of the cake, written in beautiful cursive in blue letters surrounding a small circle of candles that illuminate with a soft purple flame are the words “HAPPY BIRTHDAY”.

Then, just as Squigly would look over the cake, someone shuts the lights off, bathing the room in the glow of only the candles and the neon lights spilling in. Slowly, starting with Leviathan, then Roberto, then Selene, and then Daniel, everyone begins to sing to her. Even Simon, who obviously is unable to sing, happily sways and dances to the song, spinning and twirling adorably as everyone gathers in song.

“Happy Birthday to You~! Happy Birthday to You~! Happy Birthday, dear Squigly~! Happy Birthday…to You~!”

As each candle slowly flickers as they are blown out, the darkness of the room is contrasted by the sound of cheering and laughter, even without light the room is filled with warmth. When the lights are flicked back on, and everyone has finished lavishing Squigly with attention and hugs, it’s time to relax.

The TV plays an old classic movie on the late channel. The bottle of champagne is popped, Daniel cuts the cake, and everyone enjoys a delicious dessert. The fresh linens seem the most welcoming thing of all, as everyone slips comfortably under the warmth of the sheets, to fall back against the soft pillows after such a day of walking and running around. Daniel pulls the blankets up over Squigly and Simon, gingerly tucking the sheet into the bed to make it nice and cozy, before draping his arm lovingly around them as they snuggle together.

As the night goes on, and the neon lights seem to brighten as they spill into the suite, the air of drowsiness and peaceful calm washes over them. Selene and Roberto both wish their daughter, grandson, and son-in-law a wonderful night, before curling up together to fall into a deep comfortable sleep. Simon stretches his little arms and legs, nuzzling his mother and father happily when they give him his good night kisses and hugs, nestling into his little nook to fall asleep, his fuse twinkling like starlight out the window as he falls fast asleep. Leviathan bows his head, and wishes them all a good night’s rest before curling his tail around them to rest his head on his mistress’s shoulder, leaving only Squigly and Daniel awake.

Just before Daniel falls asleep, he leans over and presses his lips deeply to Squigly’s. The taste of blueberry, chocolate and champagne mingle with the scent of her perfume as their lips melt and press together. He could never tire of kissing her, of just being able to hold her like this, and he tells her this, his voice soft and warm, adoring and gentle. He says that he loves her, that he loves them more than anything in the world, and even if he didn’t love them, he would want nothing more than to love them forever. He hoped they had made today absolutely amazing for her, their undead darling, and that if they could, they would make everyday as wonderful as could be for her.

She’s their opera singer after all, the best thing to ever happen to them. And she deserves nothing less.

And, as Squigly would slowly begin to fall asleep, she would feel Daniel’s hands gingerly run through her hair, rolling through the tasseled blue curls of her done-up hair back and forth oh so slowly, his arms warm and strong, protecting her and Simon as they curl up in bed. His voice gently hums, although it’s not as spellbinding as anything the Contiellos could sing, but echoing with love and care for Squigly, humming Happy Birthday into her ear as he holds her tight, letting the blankets fall and melt over her until the singer is buried in a mixture of his arms and the linens. Just before her eyes close, Daniel whispers into her ear once more.

“Good night, Squigly~. I love you more than anything in this world~.”

As Squigly would wake up the next morning, there would be a smell of fresh Belgian waffles being made at the little kitchenette and fresh coffee being made, the opera house suite filled with the melody of music, and sunlight streaming in through the frost-tinted windows. Simon and Daniel happily work at the kitchenette, flipping waffles or carefully pouring glasses of juice, Selene and Roberto nuzzle up in their robes to listen to the radio as they enjoy a cup of cappuccinos, and Leviathan purrs comfortably, fixing Squigly’s pillow as he curls around her, smiling warmly at his host as her eyes flutter awake.

Hey, just because it’s not her birthday, doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve star treatment, right?  

[jonathantaylorthomas]

[excerpt] 15. This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

Does anyone apart from Pusha T relish a good diss track as much as Swift? 2017’s Reputation might have its patchy moments of just-out-of-date beats but it’s also full of deliciously vicious moments. I Did Something Bad was a beautiful middle finger to an ex (Calvin Harris, apparently), Look What You Made Me Do cut down her critics and this track, which is effectively a more bitter Bad Blood, battered Kim and Kanye. “Friends don’t try to trick you/Get you on the phone and mind-twist you” she sings in an apparent swipe at the ‘I made that b**** famous’ controversy, while underneath stuttering electro-pop clashes with tinkling piano. The chorus is Swift at her most bitingly patronising, smiling as she twists the knife in.

14. We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together

Swift managed her first US number one with We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together. The singer’s knack for an earworm is obvious here, with the song one of the simplest but strongest of her career. The rest of Red dabbles with pop but Swift’s country roots are still very visible here. A foot-stomping acoustic guitar riff is right at the heart of the track, which is a much lighter take on the relationship at the heart of All Too Well. The old Taylor might not be able to come the phone right now, but she was on top form here.

13. Our Song

Jaunty violins, talk about God, a Nashville accent that twangs like a banjo string: Our Song is Taylor in full country mode. It’s got all the hallmarks of her early verse-chorus-bridge songwriting, and Swift reportedly put it together in 20 minutes for her ninth grade talent show before the record company nabbed it for her debut album. Built around a colossal chorus, where her delivery cracks like a drum beat, Our Song is a vivid picture of her teenage years and a testament to Swift’s natural songwriting nous – a reminder that, despite the headlines, she’s built a career on talent, not merely hype and controversy. Tim McGraw, which starts the album, has much the same effect.

12. I Knew You Were Trouble

2012 album Red took Swift’s popularity to new levels and the universal appeal of I Knew You Were Trouble was a key part of that success. The song became one of the most parodied tracks of the year but even adding screaming goats into the mix couldn’t the hamper its impact. It’s perhaps surprising that despite the song’s success, the chorus marked one of the singer’s most experimental to date, flirting with dubstep, pop and dance influences. It’s the perfect example of Swift’s early musical experimentations – as was the U2-esque album opener State of Grace – which would eventually pave the way for the reinvention on 1989 two years later.

11. Shake It Off

Shake It Off is perhaps the perfect song to explain Taylor Swift and seems to encapsulate the contradictions which have made her a star. For everything that’s toe-curling and cringeworthy (see: “this sick beat”, the whole “my ex man” riff), it’s also infectious, irresistible and triumphantly confident; Swift knows it’s geeky and doesn’t care. It’s a song to shimmy to – and then to kiss your crush to, when she asks the fella with the hella good hair to shake, shake, shake. Grab the white wine and go be basic – sometimes it’s fun.

10. 22

While Swift can occasionally lean-in on her wry way of seeing the world, she’s also gloriously unafraid of big, dumb pop. 22 is almost comically simplistic: the opening guitar riff is just a watered down Wild Thing, the drum beat is mindlessly insistent – a bass kick on every single beat – and the main hook (“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 22”) has all the intelligence of a failed GCSE. None of it matters; the song is a joyous riot, set in a world where there are no pressures, no bills and the sun only goes down so everyone can go to bed together. It is fun, it is silly, it’s happiness is infectiously single-minded and the best lines come right at the end: “You look like bad news, I gotta have you”. There’s even Nile Rodgers-style guitar thrown in on the chorus. Splendid stuff. No wonder it’s said to be Harry Styles’ favourite Swift song.

9. Fifteen

Much has been made of Swift’s big transformation from country singer to pop behemoth but even before she was out of her teens she was flirting with stadium friendly rock. Still, Fifteen had plenty of banjo all over it, while her voice charmingly twangs as she talks boys and cars and heartbreak. Of which, it’s the lyrics that make this one: the song itself is so polished and clean it could have been assembled on a Tennessee production line, but Swift manages to infuse it with a sense of failed teenage romance that feels real – unsurprising, perhaps, given it’s based on her and her best friend Abigail Anderson’s years at Hendersonville High School.

“In your life you’ll do things greater than/Dating the boy on the football team/But I didn’t know it at fifteen” she sings, “Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now”. Ain’t that the truth.

8. Love Story

Ten years ago, pre-Kanye-at-the-VMAs, Swift was, in Britain at least, still that country girl with that one catchy song. This was that song; a hopelessly romantic tale of teenage love, Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet over pop-punk guitars and key changes and, of course, a happy ending replacing the tragedy. Eight million copies sold, making it the best selling country single of all time and paving the way for the decade of massive success that followed.

7. Blank Space

Blank Space is a minimalist masterpiece that paradoxically is crammed with hooks (something she manages again, like a magic trick, on Clean). The song in itself is actually surprisingly slow-moving; chords are long, drawn-out and the drums snap but are unhurried. The genius here in is Swift’s vocals, which are catchy enough that the whole thing seems to be one long chorus. Blank Space also marks the beginning of Swift sending herself up; in it, she satirises her media image as a man-obsessed, relationship addicted nightmare who serially dates for songwriting material. Hilariously, the key line (“Got a long list of ex-lovers/They’ll tell you I’m insane”) has often been misheard – including by her own mother – as “all the lonely Starbucks lovers”, which rather changes the point somewhat. The video is a work of art too, introducing the world to the ‘new Taylor’ – before the new Taylor became the old, dead Taylor. Oh, and look out for her slip up at 3.40, it’s hilarious.

6. New Year’s Day

The beautiful, reverb soaked piano that flutters through New Year’s Day is a sign of what could be to come for Swift – not now, perhaps, but maybe in 20 years. It could be played then and just as good. If All Too Well is her great grown-up heartbreak track, this is her great grown-up love song. Whereas 1989’s You Are In Love used a similar sound for a rip of Bruce Springsteen’s Street’s of Philadelphia, here it’s more of a James Blake vibe. The beauty is in the simplicity; this is a love as rational as it is passionate. The metaphor is about being there for the good times (the party at midnight) and the bad (cleaning up bottles on New Year’s Day). There is a stroke of brilliance, too: “Please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognise anywhere” she sings as a reprise, realising what too few of us do until it’s too late: love is as fragile as it precious.

5. You Belong With Me

Taylor has a long-standing love affair with power chords and pop-punk goodness. On Red, there’s Holy Ground, before that was Speak Now’s girl-breaking-free-to-rule-the-world Long Live and before that was You Belong With Me on Fearless. It’s sometimes criticised for being too similar to her other early hits but in truth, it’s just the best example of them. It’s also wonderfully full Taylor: she plays the self-deprecating dork in love with her best friend, and the video is completely, brilliantly hysterical. There are all the elements needed: crashing guitars, unrequited love, a little teenage angst. It’s far from perfect: the lyrics are her corniest, the premise is cliched and the country embellishments have been tactlessly tacked on as if purely to placate the country audience. But, in the end, it’s catchy, sweetly endearing and you’ll be singing along merrily. If you want another fill of the good stuff, put on Fearless, which is just a little less catchy but with a better guitar solo.

4. Ronan

Little known, not on any albums and barely performed live – to date it’s only been aired twice, with the first version live on a Stand Up to Cancer telethon the one to listen to – Ronan perhaps seems a unlikely entry on the list, but it stands the Swift song that aches the most, and is unlike anything else she’s written. Over the chime of trembling guitar chords, she sings as the voice of Maya Thompson, a mother who lost her four-year-old Ronan to cancer. Written after reading Thompson’s blog, Swift articulates the unsteady, insistent rhythm of grief with painful clarity. In the end, like in life, the loss stings the sharpest in the little things. “And it’s about to be Halloween, you could be anything you wanted” she sings, her voice shaking and her eyes glassy with tears, “If you were still here.”

3. Out Of The Woods

Like the heartbroken logic in All You Had To Do Was Stay (the song Ryan Adams’ did best on his mixed 1989 cover album), it’s the naivety in this one that makes it so damned sad. Jack Antonoff produced a piece of driving rock dressed up as radio-pop, the stuttering drums and Blade Runner synths casting shadows over everything, the choir on the chorus giving it enough size to fill stadiums. It’s one for anyone who’s been wrapped up in a love that’s left them shaky with the uncertainty of it all, who’s gone to sleep and woken up with the same thought, of praying they’re getting as much love as they’re giving.

2. Style

Like a designer parading a new collection down the runway, Swift showcased her new direction perfectly on this aptly titled track. Pulsating synths drive the verses along before a huge sing-along chorus kicks in, marking a dramatic change from her guitar-led earlier compositions. It’s a formula that Swift would return to time and time again in her later work, not least on the similar Getaway Car from 2017 album reputation. The song remains a highlight at Swift’s live shows — after all, pop hooks as good as this will never go out of style.

1. All Too Well

Everyone jokes about the lost scarf, but this is Swift’s most sincere tale of heartbreak and is heartbreaking itself. Though it takes a handful of listens at least to ‘get’ this track, it’s worn out and weary and the hurt goes deep. Swift says it was one of the hardest to write, and it’s one of the hardest to listen to; she sounds like she’s singing right from the bones and it’s searingly, uncomfortably intimate. Having it on doesn’t feel so much like listening as eavesdropping: other ruminations in her back catalogue are broader, relatable, but here we’re hearing her specific turmoil. Nowhere else on record does she sound as cut up the way she does halfway through this one – Jake Gyllenhaal, you realise, really broke her heart.

Plenty of Swift songs are overwrought, but the drama here is sincere: her voice trembles with pain, and the song, which starts sparse, swells and hardens up like a lump in the throat. It’s little surprise the original cut was 10 minutes long; the song is cinematic, with a touch of Raymond Carver in the sparse, classically American lyrics: “'Cause there we are again in the middle of the night/We’re dancing round the kitchen in the refrigerator light”.

When she gets to end of it, there are lines that induce a wince: “You call me up again just to break me like a promise/So casually cruel in the name of being honest” she says. Then you hear her lost to her heartbreak: “Time won’t fly, it’s like I’m paralyzed by it/I’d like to be my old self again/But I’m still trying to find it”. Love – especially when it cools – changes everything.

[ktaebwi]

[TRANS] non-no Magazine 2018 Jan Issue - 100 Answers w/ BTS

JPN - KRN © 전정국 DC갤러리, 뷔 DC갤러리, ha_ru_man, BTSR_613 KRN - ENG © ktaebwi

JUNGKOOK

Q1. Your dream job when you were a child? A badminton player when I was in elementary school. After that my parents bought me a computer so I got into gaming and wanted to do a job about gaming. Q2. How did the members celebrate your birthday in 2017? We were all practicing singing and dancing and the lights suddenly went off, then the door was opened and Jimin-san and V-san came in holding a cake. Q3. When do you feel like you have become an adult! I turned 20 in Japanese age in September! But actually I'm still a kid at heart, so truthfully I don't really feel like I have become an adult. Q4. In which moment do you feel like you're still a kid? For example, when I watch and think about a video or an interview. When I read people's comments, I feel like even with the same question, they think from a much bigger point of view than me. That's when I feel like maybe I'm still lacking in depth. Q5. A work that touched you recently? "Love, Rosie". It made me touched because it's a sweet but sad love story. Q6. The kind of song you're planning to compose? Song of styles like future base and chillstep which I enjoy and listen to a lot. Q7. Favorite dessert? The Japanese snack kinako mochi. I like that it melts in my mouth because it's just so fluffy! Also I ate cheesecake before the photoshoot for <non-no>. That one was delicious too♡ Q8. How do you take care of your beautiful voice? I don't pay particular attention to it... Like I just sing with my original voice I've had since I was born... Q9. Any habit? Covering my nose when I yawn. Not mouth but nose somehow. (laughs) And I pull the baby hair on my face unconsciously. I know about these things because fans told me.

Q10. The most exciting song of BTS? The uptempo "Wings". And the original Japanese song "Crystal Snow" which will be released in December! When I first heard it I felt like it matched my current emotion quite well. Q11. If you were to go out on a personal trip with the members? If I have time, I want to travel to Japan. I want to tour around the streets of Tokyo leisurely. Q12. Something you're into the most right now! As always, composing! Q13. A skill that you can say "Actually I'm good at this too"? Are you asking "I can do this too", not "I can't do this"? (laughs) From now on I want to be good at composing, Japanese and learning. I want to speak Japanese a little more fluently! Q14. If you were Santa Claus, what present would you give to each member? For Rap Monster-san, J-hope-san, Jimin-san, V-san, I want to choose clothes that match them well. Maybe composing equipment would be great for Suga-san. And for Jin-san who's raising cute sugar gliders, pet supplies!

V

Q15. Favorite number? 85. The song 'DNA' we released in Korea in September ranked No.85 on Billboard Hot 100 Chart. From that day on it's my favorite number. Q16. Favorite drink? Lemon lime flavored soft drink. It's a must when I'm eating or taking a break. I can't drink coffee and alcohol well. Q17. Favorite movie genre? Every genre except for horror movie! A movie I enjoyed watching recently is "Midnight Runners". Q18. Something that made you feel the most excited recently? Actually I'm planning to give my parents a car as a surprise present. Just thinking of it gets me excited already. Q19. Saddest song of BTS? The hidden track "Sea" from "Love Yourself 承 'Her'". The lyrics are like the path we walked on, so my heart aches whenever I listen to it. Q20. A photo you took recently? Landscape photos. I like putting my thoughts into my photos. I have been saving all the photos I took until now so hope one day I can show it to you guys in any form. Q21. If you were to become a photographer, what kind of photobook would you want to make? Landscape of course. I would make a photobook of landscape photos with 2 versions, colored and B&W. Personally I like B&W photos but I think color photos have a fascinating power of touching the heart, so hopefully it'll double the delight. Q22. Something you must do for beauty care? I put on facial mask and skin lotion 10 minutes before I sleep every night. For hands I just use hand cream? Q23. How do you get your mood up when you feel down? When I think of 그므시라꼬 (lit: What is it / It's not a big deal), one of the things my father told me before, my mood's recharged! Q24. A person you want to meet right now? The aunt of the protagonist from "The Full-time Wife Escapist". Ishida Yuriko's acting is extremely skilled and charming. Q25. A birthday episode that made you deeply moved? When my family and relatives gathered to celebrate my birthday before I went to elementary school. I'm still keeping the photo we took together that time. Q26. Favorite event during a year? The birthday of my father who's been raising me up. I'm living away from him now so I can't celebrate it properly, but I want to invite him to Seoul one day and throw a big party for him! Q27. Tips for learning Japanese? I tried to remember words or commonly used sentences only before, but now I watch Japanese dramas and movies and if there's any word I don't know, I would pause the video and look up for its meaning. A movie I watched recently is "Drowning Love". Q28. Something the members told you recently that made you happy? "Handsome." This is embarrassing but it makes me happy (laughs)

JIN

Q29. The most exciting song of BTS? "Fire". The melody and lyrics bring a nice feeling and can lift the mood up, and many people knew about BTS thanks to this song too. It changed our lives so whenever I hear it, I get heated thinking about that time! Q30. A song you played with guitar recently. My skill's still lacking, but I wanted to play the BGM of a game that I happened to hear on a guitar practicing video so I'm working hard on it right now. Q31. The first image that comes to your mind when it comes to "winter"? I think of the snow-clad area from an RPG game I used to like when I was a kid. Q32. Something you do every day without skipping? Feeding Odeng and Eomuk. Sugar gliders are small and cute! By the way Odeng is "odeng" and Eomuk is "odeng" in Korean♡ Q33. A food you can cook well? Mixed seasoned whelk (whelk salad) and a soup with rice cake (rice cake soup). I made it for the members on New Year's Day and they loved it, they thanked me for making it because they can't go home often. I'm really kind, aren't I? (laughs) Q34. A Japanese food that made you touched? Grilled eel rice, it has dashi stock so it was delicious! Q35. Must-have item in your fridge? Chili pepper paste, ssamjang (dipping sauce for meat), kimchi. I mainly eat meat at home so there must be condiments for meat. Q36. Favorite space in your room? I like the room itself so it's hard to choose one. I feel happy when I play with my pets, play games or just idle around. Q37. The member who you talk to about your worries? I don't have that many worries. I tend to resolve the cause on my own before my thoughts becomes a worry. Q38. In which moment do you think you shine the most? My existence itself is shining so it should be "always", not just "moment"! (laughs) Q39. Memories about '2017 Billboard Music Awards'? When we arrived at the venue in Las Vegas there was a panel that said "Billboard", I and the members went "So this is Billboard" and we were so touched, we couldn't believe it... Q40. A recent private surprise? I gifted Odeng and Eomuk to myself! And we celebrated Jungkook's birthday in September with a surprise event. Q41. A member that you depend on lately? Jimin. When we went on a variety show he left it to me when I spoke, and stepped up when it’s his turn to speak, he was reliable.

Q42. A goal you want to achieve in 2017? Getting closer to Odeng and Eomuk and make them come to me without having to do anything. I’m practicing for them to climb on my arms when I put yogurt on my hand, but not long ago they bit my finger along with the yogurt... I think it’ll take some time. (laughs)

JIMIN

Q43. Favorite season? I like the feeling of winter, since I was born in Busan and there’s not much snow there. When I was around 6, may 7 years old, there was abnormally heavy snow in the winter, the snow scene I saw outside of my window was extremely memorable. I remember playing outside with my family and friends.

Q44. Something you want to have the most right now? Time to travel. To Japan! I heard that Halloween in Japan is really big, I want to disguise myself so that no one would recognize me and join in.

Q45. A subject you were good at at school? PE, Arts, Science, Math. I especially liked ball game in PE.

Q46. Something you pay attention to when you build up your body? I only adjust my meal portion depending on the time. I don’t really work out. Even I myself feel like I’m thin when I put on clothes. So sad... (laughs)

Q47. Favorite street in Korea? Gangnam. It’s the place where I met the members after going to Seoul from another region and also the place where I go for bowling or billiards and play with my friends. Gangnam indeed!

Q48. A fashion item you want to try wearing this winter? I’m planning to go shopping and think about my winter fashion starting from now. I’m looking forward to see if I’ll meet cool coats or cute knitwears.

Q49. What did you do before sleeping yesterday? As soon as I came home and lied down on my bed after coming back from a variety show filming, I fell asleep right away. (laughs)

Q50. What did you dream of last night? I was continuing with the variety show filming in my dream last night. (laughs) If I can choose my dream as how I want, I want to fly to the sky!

Q51. Something that made you laugh the most recently? Jin-san said something lame so I laughed really hard. But since it was too lame, unfortunately I don’t remember what it is. (laughs)

Q52. A hairstyle you want to try? A hairstyle with impact... I don’t know if I suit it or not but maybe like, slicked-back hair!

Q53. If time machine exists? I used to think it would be fun to go back in time and start over, or to secretly go meet myself in the future. But now I don’t want to go anywhere. Because I had determined to not let go of what I saw at the time, live and cherish every moment.

Q54. Favorite words? “Thank you”, just hearing this gives me strength.

Q55. Memories about 2017 Japan arena tour? The tour made me once again feel how fun it is to do concerts! As we headed towards the end of the tour, my gratitude for the members grew stronger and I think this was a valuable chance for me to look back at myself.

Q56. In which moment do you feel like the members are cool? J-hope-san’s dances are really awesome! Especially his performance in “MIC Drop”, one of the songs from our 8th single released in December, so please pay a lot of attention to him.

SUGA

Q57. If you were to compare yourself to a color? Blue. I liked it since a long time ago and I think it suits me too. And It makes people feel bright and purified so I want to be the color blue.

Q58. When you contact, do you call or text? I don’t really like calling so I don’t call much. I think I only call for 10 minutes a month. I just go simple with texting.

Q59. Do you eat what you like first or do you save it for later? I have never thought when I eat. (laughs) Maybe not right from the beginning but a little later?

Q66. The first song you made? I composed for the first time by self-learning when I was 13, I think it was a hip hop track. Q67. Favorite time of the day? When I fall asleep. I feel at ease and my heart flutters a bit before I climb on my bed to sleep. Q68. How do you refresh yourself when making music? I play computer games, play with my phone or drink my favorite coffee~ Q69. Do you have your own way of drinking coffee? I don't like sweet stuff that much so first of all, I won't put sugar in. And since I like the smell of coffee beans, I go with black, putting nothing extra in. I especially like drinking coffee in my studio. (laughs) Oh and doesn't it feel unusual and fun to drink coffee after brushing your teeth? (laughs) Q70. The hairstyle you like the most among the ones you have tried so far? Speaking of colors, I think... I like black the most... (laughs) I like my natural hair color. Q71. Favorite lyrics in BTS songs? I relate to the "It's okay to lose" part. (in "Fire") Q72. Your own treasure? The equipment for making music in my studio. And the watch I'm wearing right now. It’s what I planned to buy in elementary school, that I would work hard on the music path and buy it later, so I must wear this when I make music to remind myself of my initial mindset. Q73. The most recent time you cried? I don't cry because I'm emotional but.. Uhm.. I yawned 10 minutes ago and the tears came out! (laughs) Q74. If you have a day for yourself in Japan? I want to visit a whiskey distillery! I heard my favorite author, Murakami Haruki, likes whiskey and even wrote a travelogue with the theme of whiskey, so I became interested in it. Q75. In which moment do you feel your friendship with the members? When we gather and play games during the time we have no schedule. I'm not good at games so I like playing with many people. Q76. The member that you feel like is cute lately? Jungkook. I find it cute how he's the youngest but he's slowly becoming an adult. When I first met Jungkook he was in middle school, he used to not be able to organize what he wanted to say during interviews, but seeing how well he answers now feels cool to me.

J-HOPE

Q60. BTS song that has the best choreography? “Save Me” and “DNA”. The house steps in “Save Me” dance break is really cool and my sister also said “That dance is the best”. (laughs) For “DNA” I think it’s one of the few perfect choreographies even for BTS.

Q61. What do you pay attention to during a performance? Face expression, the dynamic of the movement. Sticking to details to express the vibe of the song.

Q62. A song that makes you want to dance along? Post Malone ft. 21 Savage’s “Rockstar”.

Q88. A place you want to travel to again? Sapporo, I have been there a few times to perform, but my dream is to one day travel there on a personal trip and go into the hot spring surrounded by the snow scenery!

Q89. How do you spend time while moving? Sometimes I just sleep, sometimes I watch movies, it depends. When I went back and forth between Korean and Japan from May to July,, I wrote songs or lyrics in the plane.

Q90. Must-eat food when you come to Japan? Ramen and meat. And I like grilled eel rice the most!

Q91. Secret to your amazing smile? Hearing that makes me embarrassed. (laughs) Basically the best is to enjoy and be positive. I believe that when we smile we’ll become happier so maybe that shows on my face.

Q92. Favorite shoes at the moment? I like shoes so I bought several pairs of sneakers recently. Among them there were one pair made from several materials and colors, I fell in love with it from first sight!

Q93. Favorite fragrance recently? Fresh scent, I’m currently using mint hand soap.

Q94. A member that you think is cool? RM and V who have special interest for fashion. But the other members also have their own styles so they’re cool as well.

Q95. Favorite sports? Tennis which I played from 4th year to 6th year of elementary school. The reason I started playing tennis was a little bit special... When the teacher stood in front of the class and asked “Anyone who wants to play tennis?”, I happened to be stretching with both arms out. The teacher mistook it as me signing up so I got in. (laughs) I started playing tennis again this summer and it’s refreshing and fun!

Q96. Personal goal in 2018? Releasing the mixtape which I’m preparing. And becoming more skilled at Japanese.

Q97. If you could experience another job for one day? Tennis player. I couldn’t do well even when I practiced in elementary school, so I consider entering the Wimbledon championship is a dream of dream. (laughs)

Q98. A member that you feel like has especially grown up lately? Jungkook’s face has become more evident ever since he turned 20. When I first saw the music video of “DNA” released in Korea, he was so cool that I was shocked!

RM

Q63. A place you have never been to that you want to travel too? I want to go to Kyoto! A friend of mine who traveled to Japan invited me to go there. Q64. Must-have item that you carry along for relaxing purpose when you go overseas? Pilates practice DVD. I watch and stretch before I sleep inside the hotel room.

Q65. Speaking habit? “Actually~. I think I say it to make time for myself to arrange thoughts. It’s like “Ano” (That~) in Japanese?

Q77. A recent trivial worry or doubt? The webtoons are too good that I end up staying up all night with my phone on one hand. And doubts for Jungkook and V! Jungkook changes his hobby every month. V’s selection of words are a little peculiar, it’s amazing. Sometimes he surprises me with his use of new expressions. (laughs)

Q78. A subject you were bad at at school? Math and English. The only subjects I had to go to cram schools for outside class were these two. I slowly got more familiar with English but I didn’t have any progress with Math until the end. (laughs)

Q79. Something personal that made you happy recently? I rode a bike along the Han river on a nice day. I felt very happy enjoying the wind and riding bike.

Q80. Food you eat the most often when eating out? Meat! I mean meat-nim! (laughs) I like meat sliced really thin like it’s shaved and then grilled.

Q81. A Japanese word you learned recently and want to use? 木漏れ日 (sunshine beaming through the trees). I think it’s cool how it’s light from the sun, but i doesn’t shine fiercely but rather friendly.

Q82. Something you want to learn at the moment? Acoustic guitar! Given how it creates raw sound, it’s a straight and honest instrument.

Q83. If you can only bring one thing to a deserted island? V. He's not dependable but... What should I say... If V's there I definitely won't be bored (laughs) And flip-flops (bi-san = beach sandals/flip-flops or V-san, similar pronunciation) are great too, since the sandy beach will be hot.

Q84. A person you respect? My father. I have never seen my father and mother fighting in front of me. When I told them I want to make music, they supported me and told me go for it.

Q85. Birthday memories of 2017? We were invited as guests to the Seoul concert of The Chainsmokers who we collaborated with in the song “Best Of Me”. I was surrounded by people I cherish so it felt like the biggest birthday party in my life?

Q86. The most memorable song of BTS? “Danger” which we released in Korea in 2014. It was when we were desperately trying as group. It has really cool dances so please watch it!

Q87. Something you cherish the most as a leader? Memories with the members. Because we made it through the hardship together, so we can still think of each other and move forward even now.

BTS

Q99. Memorable Christmas memory?

RM: I remember when I was 6, I heard that our family would travel on Christmas and I asked “Will Santa grandpa be able to come?” Since we were travelling to the country, I was worried. (laughs) SUGA: When I was small, our family would gather and have a meal together. After I started living away from them, it began to feel like a wonderful memory. JIN: When I went to the ski resort with my parents and brother. It was our regular Christmas trip when I was in elementary school. J-HOPE: There was a year when it snowed a lot on Christmas. The white Christmas I wished for! I remember making snowman with my family and laughing and chatting. JIMIN: I want to spend a memorable Christmas in the future. The snow is memorable! It’s the best to play at the ski resort and finish by watching the night scenery. V: I think many people spend Christmas as couples but I’m always alone ever since I was born. (laughs) When I was in school, I would go to the PC room with my usual friends and play games or eat noodles. I pretended to be tough like “PC room for Christmas!”. (laughs) JUNGKOOK: One year I was sleeping with my brother and when I opened my eyes slightly, I saw a grandpa with white beard! I thought “Santa really came” and went to sleep with a very happy mood.

Q100. What do you want to achieve, to try as BTS in 2018?

RM: Performing at the biggest venue in each country! SUGA: We have achieved many of our goals so far and thankfully there isn’t anything we haven’t achieved. But we won’t dwell on our achievement next year and hopefully we can enjoy our favorite music and have a good time with our fans. JIN: I want to make a song that anyone would love. Personally, I want to play and have fun with fireworks with the members. (laughs) J-HOPE: My goal and dream is to stand on a worldwide stage and present a performance that will blow everyone’s mind. JIMIN: I’m not persistent for records. Because our fans made them happen. But whenever they set new records for us I feel very thankful and grateful. I wish 2018 would become a year where we get to spend more time with our fans. V: I see a lot of beautiful sceneries in the countryside when I watch Japanese movies. I want to perform in other cities, not just big ones, and see those sceneries with my own eyes. I want to go meet more fans! JUNGKOOK: Making songs by myself that can be put into BTS albums! I’ll continue to try to make it happen.

[temptsyourtaste]

Put This In Your Mouth

=It had been a minute. Okay, it had been a three-year minute since AphroditHE had seen the stage at The Red Doors. It likely would have stretched into a longer spell but she wasn’t having the crumbs of cameos I was tossing at her. One off bookings were not satisfying her appetite to be seen and heard at regular intervals. She was not amused by the offers she’d been made for inferior employment that would stuff her into cookie-cutter drag schtick. She was uncompromising, an original. Aph was about to bust through my ribs Alien style if I didn’t set the songbird free from the cage and soon. She decided to irritate me into action by serenading me with various medleys of Fine Young Cannibals “She Drives Me Crazy,” Sisqo’s “Thong Song,” and Ricky Martin’s “Livin La Vida Loca.” I did not know who in the hell gave her permission to dip into all that nineties. Wasn’t me.

The truth was I had been slinging tacos like every day was Tuesday, and serving up too many happy endings to give her the time she demanded. But, in the name of inner peace and maintenance of sanity, I had summoned my balls and made the call to the man in charge, one Mr. Jax Kingston. Aph may have preened a little too much when she was welcomed back as if she’d never gone on hiatus.  She had a quality about her and served as a living, breathing aphrodisiac to the clientele at the club, a figurative fluffer. She’d work the clients up and whet their appetites for more, but was never the one to entertain company in the private suites. The gentlemen in her audience often found themselves lingering after the show, tempted by other offerings at the Doors, cementing her value to the club.  The parting had not been a bad one, it was entirely professional on both sides, but time had a way of eroding relationships that weren’t maintained. Fortunately for her, The Red Doors and I had picked up like old friends, and the rest, as they say, was history. 

The immersion back into the scene was not going to come without its discomfort. I was grossly behind on standard upkeep, which was beyond unacceptable to Aph. This would also make for a painful reentry into her world. Waxing was not for the faint of heart, but thankfully, I liked the rush of adrenaline. 

A little pain would be worth the ultimate ability to appease her while I took the back seat. To her delight, I set aside the morning before the lunch rush to attend to the most pressing needs. There was much to tame and manicure, but I’d leave the face for the following day because, spoiler alert, I could sprout a beard overnight. Aph was not about to be the bearded-lady on some side stage. No. That thought was a threat to the very essence of AphroditHE.

I prepped my skin with a warm towel wrap while the wax was heating and laid out my pre-cut waxing strips. I preferred to do away with larger swatches of hair at a time, more pain but also efficient aka gain. 

While attending to my legs, I praised the Gods that I came with a hairless back and chest, and let my thoughts flit to the time ma mère had caught me with her razor, going to town on every little hair I could find. And I mean EVERYWHERE. Taught her to walk in on me...never. 

Smooth skin. Dresses. Glamorous makeup.  It lured me like I was the long lost siren meant to climb right up on that cliff and call men to their certain deaths with my wiles. I was all about it, but only the illusion. I wasn’t keen on giving up the cock, because the boys liked what I had on offer, and, okay, okay, I did too. 

It was for my sweet sixteen I had slipped into my first gown and as a gift to myself, performed for my audience of family and friends. My parents were gracious and accepting, even… proud at times, despite my penchant for dramatics. I knew how fortunate I was for their acceptance of not only my sexuality and self-expression, but also my taste for expensive things. It made my bleeding heart ache relentlessly that so many of my peers did not walk such a road. 

Not that I didn’t have my issues...they just didn’t come from mommy and daddy.

Slathering some wax on the top of one calf before applying the first strip with firm strokes for a proper adhering, I braced myself. I gripped the lifted end and yanked fast, yelping so loud it could have woken a village, but in the wake of my pain there was not a hair to detect, nothing but pinked skin.=

The things I put myself through for you, Aph. 

=Heaven sakes, she immediately launched into “The Show Must Go On,” full on belting it in my brain. Queen was persistent, I’d give her that. With every pass on the fruitful follicles, she was becoming more and more satisfied, aware her time was near.  While I worked to get my sea legs back, I’d be showing in a limited capacity.  Former clients had called Aph an addiction, always begging for another taste, an encore, more. If I was available every night would that leave them fiending for another hit? Never. They’d be stuffed on me, and I’d be at risk of losing the allure I held. There was more to the art of drag than waxing, tucking and applying make-up, it was as much about keeping them thirsty, teasing at the possibility of more, and then bringing them to their knees while never actually surrendering. Mastering that list meant full audiences, and “at” and “capacity” were two words that made the boss man happy, especially given the intimate setting. 

Everything was smooth, from the bikini line to the tops of my toes by the time I had to think about getting out of the robe and into something more appropriate for slinging tacos. 

To give Aph her due, I’d prepped all the food the night before,  from fresh batches of my Money Shot hot sauces in various heats and flavors, to the featured menu item - the ridiculously delicious spicy pineapple chicken tacos, and a customer favorite Happy Ending, my irresistible Tres Leches cupcakes. 

Aside from my drag ambitions, growing up I’d had another persistent dream. When I wasn’t busy singing acapella into my hairbrush while staring in the mirror, I could be found in the kitchen experimenting with recipes and flavor profiles while using my parents as taste testers. My parents had thrown down a buttload for culinary school and while they probably would have loved to see me ascend to the ranks of Pepin, or Ramsay or even Bourdain, I had ultimately decided tacos were the way to bring about world peace. 

Before food trucks were the thing, I’d had the thought to put my spin on the mom and pop taco truck. I wanted mine to be skanky, swanky and a tad camp, but for the food to be slap-your-mama delish. Dessert was a must, and I had a specific concept for that too, aimed at the dirty minded. Who wouldn’t love a happy ending after a taco tongue massage?  

I’d saved for the truck while perfecting recipes and menus, not to mention an armory full of happy ending offerings. Everything I made was from scratch, and after buying the truck, I got to grinding, determined to make it turn a profit. After seven months, I met that goal. 

When I deemed myself presentable for the lunch crowd, I loaded up my truck and headed down to Fremont Street because I was feeling a little Marilyn-Rat-Pack-Throwback. Hopefully the high rollers were hungry.=

[twistednuns]

September 2020

Your fears are ebbing, your confidence is rising, and proof that I exist can now be felt in your touch by loved ones, found in your smile by friends, and seen in your countenance by strangers. Everything, for you, will now begin getting easier, happier, and zippier. / The Universe (from Mike Dooley's Notes from the Universe newsletter, September 3)

Time of the Season

Coming home. Solitude. Lots of Sonnentor Gute Laune tea.

Fixing a toaster. I love how easy it is to disassemble old electronic devices.

Full moon magic. Manifesting. Perhaps the time has come - maybe I'm finally going insane. But I keep receiving these messages (or rather have very strong urges and feelings) at the moment. I felt super out of place, out of touch and out of luck these last few weeks, like something was wrong with me for being different, thinking differently. I just couldn't deal with people's energies anymore (hectic, stressful, close-minded, inflexible, conservative, rule-abiding). But something tells me I'm on the right path when I stick to what is good for me. All signs are pointing the way. I'm so curious for the things to come.

Vivid dreams about family issues, my brother dying in an accident, consoling my mum, browsing through an imaginary grandma's treasures in her attic apartment.

Strictly speaking this is not a thing I love because I hate wearing face masks and I miss wearing lipstick so goddamn much but I have found silk to be the perfect material. Super smooth, soft, breathable and light.

Advancement in my self-love journey. Listening to my body. Trying to give it exactly what it needs. I don't know what happened but there has been such a profound change in the way I treat myself and the worthiness I suddenly feel. I'm much more able to let go of situations and people that are harmful to my mental well-being. I am enough.

Christina's Matcha Mornings podcast. It's so interesting to see the direction she has taken. I met her in Vienna ten years ago after reading her LiveJournal for years. My inspiration.

How to be more alive in the moment.

Random bit of trivia: there is not a single subway station in Munich that includes the letter Ä. I'm a collector of weird facts.

The Vintage Books edition of Patti Smith's Year of the Monkey. I love the grey, cream, the black and white photograph. The rough cut. Also: learning about Miss Christine and Girls Together Outrageously. I ordered a few of Patti's books the other day because I'm quite interested in her art - photography, visual art, poetry.

Making a list of my artistic heroines. So far Patti Smith, Marina Abramovich, Siri Hustvedt, Nina Hagen, Louise Bourgeois and Donna Tartt are on it. And Ramapriya, a former yoga teacher.

Magic Eye holo images. I was obsessed as a child and it's just as fascinating to me again now.

Manifesting male company. The conversations are nice so far, let's see where these lead.

Popping bubble wrap.

Going on a long Sunday walk. Sunshine. Smelling wild roses on the way. Eating a whole wheat croissant in front of the churchyard.

Finding practical solutions. Decluttering.

Ayurvedic rituals.

Drinking coffee in the morning, especially on days I can stay at home. What a productivity high!

Waking up crazy early on a Saturday. Reading my current favourite, a Leigh Bardugo fantasy trilogy. Breakfast with fresh raspberries and coffee from my friend's roastery. With barista soy milk foam. Getting a hot water bottle. Going back to bed, reading some more. My new Saturday routine: cleaning, making crisp bread. Doing the laundry.

Listening to old Radiohead songs. In Rainbows is my favourite album. OK Computer a close second.

A sudden desire to move. Yoga, blackroll, stretching, dancing. So nice. It's quite rare that my body actually wants to be moved and used because usually I have issues with low energy or an aching joint. The other day I took a walk and came across an ad for Kundalini yoga in my neighbourhood. Unfortunately the couple who gave the class have since moved away but Sarah gave me some recommendations for other Kundalini classes nearby. I have to try it!

The beautiful Sunday morning sunset.

An obsession with an O.P.I nail polish with the worst name ever. A very soft, pale pink. Currently I won't accept anything else on my fingernails.

Heighted awareness. A better connection to my needs and desires. Figuring it all out. A miraculous change in my eating behaviour. I just can't seem to overeat anymore.

Sister Shanti.

A warm breakfast. Herbal tea, miso soup with furikake, dashi, roasted sesame and a sheet of nori. Ayurvedic porridge with soy yoghurt, blueberries and my usual mix of nuts, cacao nibs, hemp and flax seeds. Bircher muesli. Coffee with barista style soy milk.

Creativity connected to the moon cycle.

Visiting my mum. Driving out to her workplace for the first time in years. Taking home lots of crystals. Singing along to old songs on the radio. Her outrageously delicious cookies with nuts, chocolate and apricot jam. Talking about the important stuff. Connecting. Spending hours in the woods on a mushroom forage. Having dumplings with creamy mushroom sauce for lunch on Sunday. Getting to now Martin's grandchildren. They took a liking to me. I was their witch and had to come up with new magic spells all the time. I would summon mushrooms (or have them appear on someone's bum) and turn the boys into crocodiles or broccoli.

There's a new Fleet Foxes album!

A very nice and pretty comprehensive autumn movie list. It inspired me to make my own.

to have pull with - Have a means of gaining advantage with, have influence on, as in She had pull with several of the board members. [Colloquial; late 1800s]

Making my favourite vegan Lebkuchen with lots of nuts, dark chocolate and marzipan. They're huge so eating one of them is already very satisfying.

Reconnecting with Christina. Sending each other voice messages on Instagram. Talking about personal growth, our internet presence from ten years ago, her MatchaMornings website and so much more. We might even meet next time she's in Munich!

Stealing a piece of stale bread from Frank's oven. Eating with with a dollop of delicious soured butter.

I kinda like how we're forming a new tradition. Visiting Frank after school, waiting for him to finish work, cooking something, watching a movie or an episode of a TV series (we just got started with the new season of Fargo).

Doing a little research on the lyrics to my favourite Epic Rap Battle of History (Dr. Seuss vs. William Shakespeare). We had suspected that part of it was written in sonnet style but unfortunately we couldn't prove our theory.

Becky giving my compliments for how cute my face looks when I'm wearing my foxy hat. I actually found another hat in the same style online. I'm going to check that website every day from now on because I know that there are hats with robins and squirrels out there and someone will put them up for sale sooner or later.

Walking home from the hairdressers. Quickly avoiding bumping into a long-haired dude walking towards me. He imitated my swift move and smiled at me. I giggled and somehow we had a tiny connection, a fraction of a moment together.