#truly the most pretentious name i can come up with (its PERFECT)

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[viktorybell]

Modern Wonder

Modern!Viktor x Art Teacher!Reader (GN)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warning: nothing, but there’s a slightly suggestive joke at the end

Piltover’s Science Museum was truly a modern wonder. It was probably the biggest museum they had in the entire city, and most definitely had the most care put into its exhibits. Hundreds of years of progress and discoveries all documented there in one building. You’d been dying to go and explore the building for ages, never finding time in your busy schedule for it. So, when the opportunity happened upon you, you’d swiped it up as quickly as you could.

It would have been a perfect trip too…that is, if you didn’t have about twenty hyperactive fourteen year olds dragging you around the Museum’s ‘Young Mind’ section for the last hour.

Suddenly, your overwhelming enthusiasm for the museum was dampened by the constant noise coming from your kids. Whether it was them laughing and messing around way too close to a fragile exhibit or literally running through the museum like the windows of the building alone didn’t cost more than your feeble art supply budget. 

The most embarrassing part was how miserable of a tour guide you were. If this were the art museum on the other side of town, you would have killed it. You could name the artists of the work being displayed there right now, but the second one of your students asked what ‘inertial force’ means, you were done for.

Because you were an art teacher. An art teacher for a severely underfunded high school on the border of Zaun and Piltover. An art teacher who had stupidly volunteered to chaperone a group of freshman for this year’s big field trip. An art teacher who was so glad it was time to sit down, they could have cried.

Most of the trip was exploring the museum itself, but there were a few scheduled activities you had to usher your rambunctious group to. On the schedule it said something pretentious like ‘Men of Progress: Live Demonstration of Up and Coming Blah Blah Blah.’ You literally have no fucking clue what that’s supposed to mean and the title is so long you didn’t bother reading it through. All that mattered is that when you entered the lab, there were rows of chairs set up. They were all facing a large counter, similar to the kind they had back at the high school’s lab, but much newer.

“Y’all are big kids so I’m not assigning seats, but stick to the same general area, please.” You glanced back at the teens following you like lost ducks and gestured towards the folding chairs.

“Can I sit next to you?” One of the smaller students with a choppy, bright blue haircut asked, tugging on your messenger bag. You recognized her from your beginning art class. She was sweet when she wanted to be and an utter menace, also when she wanted to be, but art meant the world to her and it was something you could relate to. “I want to point at you and draw attention when they ask for volunteers.”

Aaaaaand there’s the menace.

“You can totally sit with me, Jinx, but if you do that shit I’m taking you up there with me,” You rolled your eyes as she burst into giggles. Menace.

A couple other groups filed in and got settled as well, along with the few random people that had decided to come to the museum midday on a random thursday. Then the lights in the back half of the room dimmed and a tentative hush fell over the audience as two men wearing cheesy lab coats and goggles on their head popped into the room, coming to stand at the front next to the counter.

The taller of the two was carrying a large plastic tub while the other had a clipboard tucked under the arm he was using to lean on a cane, waving with his free hand.

“Good afternoon, everybody!” The taller one projected as he set the tub onto the counter. “I’m Dr. Jayce Talis and this is my partner. They call us…the Hexbros!!”

“They do not call us that. Dr. Talis calls us that,” Soft laughter filled the room as the second man spoke up, his light accent catching your attention.

“Thanks, pal,” Jayce rolled his eyes good naturedly before beginning to unpack the box, spreading out a myriad of different objects. “We’re both from Piltover’s Academy and once every month we come to help out at the museum! Are you guys ready for some science?”

Jinx literally screams at the top of her lungs in response, and all you can do is cover your mouth and laugh at her enthusiasm.

“Energetic crowd today, yeah? My name is Viktor and today we’ll be doing a couple of demonstrations, the first of which requires a volunteer. Do we have any takers?” Viktor scanned the crowd, looking among the sea of arms that immediately shot up, most of them your students. You shot a quick glare at Jinx and she smiled sheepishly at you but she just raised her hand. Agreeing, at least for the moment, not to draw attention to you.

Viktor continued glancing over the crowd, making a big show of stroking his chin and humming as he did so. His eyes flitted over you and you could’ve sworn they doubled back, but you were too taken aback by the color of them to know for sure. You’d never seen such bright golden eyes like that before, they were striking. Trying to ignore the jolt of interest that Viktor sparked, you turned your attention back to where Jayce was setting up some kind of experiment using three glasses of water.

At random, the scientist chose a student from a different group and they came up to help with the experiment. Which is how the demonstration went over the course of half an hour. They’d pick a volunteer while setting each activity up, go through with the experiment, then explain the science behind it through witty banter while they cleaned it all up afterwards.

None of their demonstrations were particularly complicated, similar to something you’d see at a middle school science fair, but the two inventors at the front of the room were entertaining enough that it held everyone’s attention. Jayce had the golden boy look about him, playing it up with a charming smile and a disarming way of speaking. While Viktor was the polar opposite, the moon to Jayce’s sun, the cynical partner of the group with a dry humour that had you snorting more than once through the show.

“Our last experiment for the afternoon is the most simple one yet, though it always receives a standing ovation,” Viktor explained to the crowd as Jayce pulled out a bag of balloons, a box of matches, and a pitcher of water.

“You wanna blow up the balloon, Vik?” Jayce asked, pulling one from the pack.

Without even looking at him, Viktor shook his head. “You’ve got more than enough hot air to fill them with, Jayce. All you.”

You swear you nearly bit your tongue with how quickly you had to stop yourself from laughing obnoxiously. Obviously not well enough seeing as it still drew Viktor’s attention and now he was sending a quick smirk in your direction. What was Jayce doing? You should look at Jayce now. God, it’s so stuffy in this room. When’s the show over, again?

In the time it took to pull yourself together again, Jayce had blown up the balloon and held it up, Viktor at his side with the matchbox.

“I require an audience response for this one, what do you think will happen if I were to light this match and touch it to the side of the balloon?” Viktor asked and held the match out for everyone to see.

There was various shouts from the students, most of them convinced the balloon would pop. Viktor nodded thoughtfully as he took in their answers.

Quickly, he struck the match against the side of the box, effortlessly lighting it and touching it to the bottom of the balloon where Jayce was holding it upside down. With a loud bang, it popped, making a few people in the crowd yelp.

“Most of you were right! So we filled a balloon with air and when touched with a lit match, it popped,” Jayce grinned, tossing the scraps and burnt match into the trash. “What do you all hypothesize will happen if we put water in the balloon?”

The audience starts to get excited, some of the kids in the row behind you halfway out of their chairs as the students shout out their answers, this time the group is an even mix of ‘it won’t! It will!’

“It’s not gonna pop!” Jinx yelled from beside you. She’d been thoroughly invested through the entire ordeal, but especially so after Viktor grinned mischievously at the crowd and asked;

“Do we have a brave volunteer willing to test this out?”

Jinx leaped to her feet, both hands pointing and waving frantically as she borderline screamed your name.

Your jaw. Drops. She had to have been holding this in the entire show. She had heeded your warning and only raised her hand for herself the entire time, even getting to go up and assist with the pendulum experiment, but now all bets were off.

Immediately, both Viktor and Jayce turned to face Jinx who is now jumping up and down.

“This is my art teacher! Pick my art teacher!!” Jinx yelled out.

You cover your face with your hands. Trying to ignore that, along with the two scientists, everybody else is staring at you. It felt like you were three seconds from spontaneously combusting.

“Jinx,” You whisper yelled through your hands. “Sit down. I’m begging.”

“It seems we have a very enthusiastic volunteer!” Viktor sounded amused and also much closer than he had just a minute ago.

Your hands fell from your face only to be replaced with Viktor’s outstretched hand. At some point, in all of Jinx’s dramatics, Viktor had made his way from the front of the room to where you sat in the front row of chairs. Your gaze flicked between his hand and his face as he peered down at you expectantly. From this close you could see two moles on his face, a detail you never would have been plagued with if your students didn’t have it out for you.

Jinx was gripping your arm now, shaking it back and forth and begging for you to go up there. Some of the other kids in your group were in on it too now. The things you did for your students.

Begrudgingly, you placed your hand in Viktor’s letting him help pull you to your feet. Jinx lets out a triumphant ‘WOO!’ as she flops back into her seat and excitedly watches as you and Viktor head over to the front of the room, where Jayce has placed a single chair.

“You’re going to be very popular with your students after this,” Viktor hummed, only loud enough for you to hear as Jayce struggled to get the riled up crowd’s attention.

You glared at him, the effect ruined by the smile you couldn’t bite down on. “Why do I feel like I’m heading to the gallows right now?”

Viktor barked out a laugh and gestured for you to sit in the chair. Your stomach dropped.

“It seems we’ve got our brave volunteer!” Jayce grinned as you reluctantly settle into the chair. From behind you, you could hear Viktor’s cane tapping the floor as he headed back to the counter, presumably to set up the second balloon. “Have you got a name, oh mysterious art teacher?”

You gave him your name and he repeated it back louder so the audience could hear, behind you was the sound of a balloon being blown up.

“And do you think the balloon will pop, yes or no?” Viktor asked from the counter, sounding more than a little amused.

“Well I was sitting next to an incredibly smart girl during this whole experiment, and she says it’s not going to pop, so I trust her judgment,” You smiled, watching as Jinx wiggled happily in her seat, having pulled her knees up to her chest as she watched in anticipation.

“Or maybe she just wants to see her favorite teacher get soaked,” Viktor hummed back thoughtfully, coming back into your line of sight with a second balloon. This one was blown up and tied, held upside down just like the first had. The only difference between this balloon and the other, was the water you could see sloshing around the lower half.

“I appreciate your strength in this scary situation, but don’t worry, we haven’t popped a water balloon all morning!” Jayce reassured you, taking the balloon from Viktor and holding it over your head.

“But there’s always a possibility,” Viktor countered while pulling out a match from the box. “Any electronics in your pockets you’d like to remove before we test your hypothesis?”

Thankful for the warning, you tugged your phone from the pocket of your jeans and handed it to Viktor, who put it in his pocket for safe keeping.

“Hold your breath!” Jayce teased as Viktor lit the match.

You did exactly that, squeezing your eyes shut as you fully tensed, arms folded to your stomach like that’d stop the balloon from dumping its contents over your head. The crowd was deadly silent as Viktor reached over and slowly pressed the flame to the very bottom of the balloon and…

Nothing.

The balloon didn’t pop.

Almost immediately the students started making noise, a chorus of ‘awww man’ coming from your kids in particular. You let out a deep breath, relaxing your shoulders.

“Oh my god, you guys had me so nervous,” You groaned, chuckling a bit to yourself as you sat back in the chair fully, glancing at Viktor where he still held the match to the bottom of the balloon. He smiled back down at you.

“Ah, yes. You must have gotten lucky today,” Viktor nodded before removing the match and pressing it into the empty top half of the balloon, popping it over your head and utterly drenching you in freezing water.

Your kids went. Insane. It was pure chaos.

From under the loud din of about sixty something high school kids cheering, you could hear both Viktor and Jayce laughing.

“Oh it’s funny, huh? ‘Cause I’m about to be hilarious,” You warned, flicking the water out of your eyes with your equally wet hands.

“And that’s my cue to go grab a towel!” Jayce said, booking it to the counter just as you stood up from your chair.

“Hey-what, no! You can’t just leave me here! This is ableist Jayce!” Viktor protested. He was laughing a little too hard to back away from you, now was your chance.

“Are you a hugger, doc? You seem like a hugger,” You grinned, grabbing the same hand he’d used to pull you from your chair earlier to pull him into a bear hug.

Immediately he yelped, trying to jump away from where the cold water you were drenched in transferred to the front of his shitty lab coat. “Ah, how kind of you!” Viktor chuckled, gingerly patting your back.

“Aw, c’mon guys. I’ve only got one towel!” Jayce whined as he came back over with a towel that, while sorely needed, is not going to be enough to dry all of your clothes.

You pulled away from Viktor, satisfied that you’ve at least gotten his jacket wet and also ignoring how warm he had felt. Nodding at your handiwork, you accepted the towel from Jayce. They both thanked you for your participation and you headed back to your seat.

Viktor was right, though, you were extremely popular for the rest of the day.

Jinx was practically as glued to your side as she could be without actually touching you and your awful damp clothes. It was almost worth it. Almost. You really despised walking around the last few sections of the museum feeling like a drowned rat.

“Are you gonna ride the bus back to school with us?” Jinx asked as you recounted your group in the lobby, making sure everyone was accounted for.

The buses had finally arrived and it was time to cram the students back in three to a seat and head back to the school.

“I’m sorry, Jinx. There’s not enough room for all the chaperones on the buses, I volunteered to drive myself.” Jinx gave you puppy dog eyes and you laughed at her dramatics. “You’ll see me in class tomorrow, stop pouting.”

That seemed to cheer her up as she held out her fist for a quick fistbump before chasing after the rest of her group where they were piling into the bus. You watched them walk off, standing in front of the museum and wondering what you had in your car to cover your seat with so it didn’t end up just as wet as you did.

“Wait!”

You turned as your name was called out, finding none other than Viktor trying to speed through the lobby towards you.

“Viktor?” You asked, meeting him halfway. He wasn’t wearing the lab coat anymore, instead he was wearing a form-fitting, black button down with a red tie. It fit him a lot better than the baggy white coat he’d been practically swimming in earlier.

Like, it fit him a LOT better. Wow. Oh shit, he was talking to you, focus.

“-everywhere for you, I’m so glad I could catch you before you got on the bus. I didn’t know how else to-”

“Woah, Viktor, it’s cool. I’m not even getting on the bus,” You jerked your thumb over your shoulder to where the buses were currently pulling out. “What’s up?”

“Your phone, it was still in my pocket from earlier,” Sure enough, Viktor pulled your phone from the pocket of his slacks, handing it over.

You took it from him gratefully. “Oh my god, I hadn’t even realized I’d left it behind. Thank you so much, you didn’t have to go hunt me down to give it back.”

“Nonsense, it’s the least I can do after I got you wet like that in front of all those people.”

Dead silence.

You couldn’t bite back the laugh that shot out of you, hand coming up to cover your mouth as you watched Viktor’s face slowly turn red.

“You-I, let me rephrase.” Viktor stumbled over an excuse and you couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore.

“Nah, I get what you mean, doc,” You took mercy on him and he smiled sheepishly at you.

He seemed different now that it was just the two of you, shyer than he had been when he was with his lab partner, popping a water balloon over your head in front of a live audience. It was like there was something else he had to say, something trapped just behind his brain to mouth filter that he was struggling to push past.

“I better check and make sure everything’s here, I’m not sure if I trust you after that balloon incident,” You teased, turning your phone on to scroll through your contacts.

“Wh-? I’d never!”

“Oh, yeah? Then why am I missing a number in here, huh?”

“What? Let me see that, I promise you I didn’t even touch your phone before I brought it here. Who’s number is missing?” Viktor huffed as he stepped to your side and peered over your shoulder at your phone screen.

“It’s yours.” You grinned, waving the phone at him. The screen was pulled up to create a new contact.

Immediately Viktor was red-faced again. He was trying to glare at you, but it was ultimately weakened by the smile he couldn’t fight off. “That was an utterly awful pick-up line.”

Regardless of how awful it had been, Viktor took your phone and started typing his number in.

“It can’t possibly be worse than picking me out of a crowd to pop a water balloon over my head in front of my students,” You countered. Viktor chuckled in response as he handed back your phone.

“You might have me there,” He conceded. “I’ve got to get back to my lab now, but do try calling if you ever want me to, uh, get you wet, again. As it were.”

It was your turn to stutter out a response, nearly dropping your phone. As you were trying to piece a witty retort together, Jayce pulled up in front of the museum in a shitty camry.

“Ah, that’s my ride. Have a good evening!” Viktor smirked, every bit aware of the effect he had over you in this moment as he walked to the passenger side of the car and hopped in.

You watched the two pull off, trying to gather your thoughts as they shrank into the distance.

Piltover’s Science Museum was truly a modern wonder.

[smilesvt]

honey muffins | pt.1

pairing: seungcheol x reader

genre: fluff, suggestive, possible angst later on,,

warnings: slight suggestive but nothing smutty!

summary: a stranger who catches your eye leads to a swirling discovery of your fates. will you succumb to the forbidden love that lies between you?

‘You know we shouldn’t be doing this right now Cheol.' You whined, hands pushing against the mans broad shoulders.

Yet your complaints made him even more riled up. The fact he could taste you when he wasn’t supposed to made the adrenaline rush faster through his veins, the sounds of your sweet voice echoed in his mind and filled him with even more desire.

'Says who?' he whispered, his lips like shadows of your own, his soft breath seeping into your very self.

You had never wanted something so bad, to feel his lips against yours as he whined into your mouth, helplessly and at his very edge.

But you had self control.

And you would never let your desire get a hold of you.

~~~

You mustered the energy left in you to fully shove the man away, however his strong hands still gripped onto your sides.

'You know exactly who.' you sighed, as if you hadnt had this same conversation with him plenty of times before. The man scoffed, looking away with his tongue pressed firmly in the side of his cheek.

'Seriously? That’s all you can think of right now? Whilst you have that pathetic look in your eye thats practically begging me for more? Don’t make me laugh.'

Cheol had never got angry at you; and he wasn’t about to now. But the tinge of annoyance mixed with desperation hidden in the depths of his voice made you feel slightly guilty.

'Fine.' You managed to speak out, your voice calm and steady, yet your eyes looked down at your lap, unable to make eye contact with the man.

'Do what you want with me. Anything and everything. But you know what risk that comes with. Is it worth never seeing me again for a night of pleasure? I would hope I mean more to you than that.’

His hands fell from your waist and onto the cold kitchen counter you were sat on.

‘Of course you do. You know that.’

‘Stop coming so close to losing me then.’ You poked at his chest, and tilted his head up to look at you.

He smiled, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes.

——

Yours and Seungcheol’s families had never liked each other. It was a decades long feud, started when your great great grandfather opened a restaurant with his best friend, Seungcheols great great grandad.

The business had a slow start, what with the two men only being teenagers when they started selling their food to local people in the town. Little did they know, over the years, their seemingly perfect business would gain traction all over the country and earn them more than ever expected.

But as with most co-owned businesses, one half of the duo would become increasingly greedy, wanting more than the other.

And so the feud started. Seungcheols family had accused yours of stealing money from the joint bank account, and the business relationship crumbled.

Your great-great grandad opened his own bakery chain, specialising in his favourite, muffins: whereas Cheols turned his into a patisserie.

Fast forward to now, both of the families had stores around the country. You would have thought, what with the huge amounts of success from the two businesses, the family beef would have been quenched. Yet both of your families were stubborn: refusing to ever apologise or simply even acknowledge the other’s existence, despite walking past each others stores nearly everyday. And thats when you and Cheol came into the mix.

~~~~

You remember that day as clearly as if it were yesterday.

3 years ago, sometime in December, a fairly handsome man had walked into the bakery whilst you were working.

His beanie was pulled down low, with a few strands of espresso coloured hair peaking through. However the casual headwear contrasted the grey suit he was wearing, a burgundy tie pulled down in exhaustion and shiny black shoes at his feet.

You had had many weird and wacky customers walk in during your part time shifts at the family bakery (you worked in the heart of the city after all, weird was practically the usual) but something about this man had struck you. Your eyes had followed him as he perused around the store, occassionally stopping and observing the packs of bread. He looked way too interested in the baked goods, and you smiled to yourself as you looked down at the book you were reading.

'Excuse me.' A deep voice as smooth as honey had spoken from the other side of the counter. You quickly stood up from your stool and walked over to the till.

His golden eyes met yours over the rim of his thin gold glasses, with a sweetly intense gaze.

'How can i help you?' You had smiled at the man, your customer pleasing voice hiding your slight nerves.

'I was wondering, say you had a date coming up, and they really loved bakeries and such, what would you treat them to?'

The question had taken you aback, and he smiled as he noticed you pause to think of an answer.

'Well I’m personally a sweet sort of girl, so I would probably subconsciously choose something dessert like. A good neutral choice would be a muffin of some sorts-' you glanced over the array of treats that lay on the counter in front of you. 'I’d strongly recommend the blueberry honey one, it’s sweet yet not too overpowering, but I guess it’s all down to their personal preference.' You looked back up at the man, who flashed a warm smile at you.

'Perfect. I’ll take 2 of those then.'

---

It had been the day of your graduation when you decided to treat yourself to the slightly boujee patisserie down the road from your bakery.

Seungcheol remembered it as clearly as day.

The bell at the front entrance had jingled as a familiar girl waltzed through, a bright smile plastered on her face. He instantly recognised her; the pretty one from the bakery just up the road. She seemed to have recognised him too, as she slightly bowed her head towards him as she walked over to the till.

'How can I help you on this fine day mademoiselle?' he had questioned, taking the girl aback as she slightly giggled.

'Well I was wondering, say you had a person you wanted to impress and they really liked sweets, what would you treat them to?' He smiled at the words coming from her mouth, the ones that mirrored his own.

He gazed upon the small crescents your hazel eyes made as you laughed, a warmth seeping through his body.

His heart had never felt that way before.

---

From that day on, Seungcheol visited your store more often than he would like to admit. Sometimes he wouldnt even buy anything, he just wanted an excuse to be able to speak to you.

When the shop was filled to the brim with customers, he would simply wait at the end of the long line and you would smile at how stubborn he was.

~~~

'Its raining and you still stood out there.' You sighed as he shook his wet, curly hair in front of you. 'Worth it.' He flashed you his comforting gummy smile and your heart burst into smithereens.

'No work today?' You asked, looking down at the mans grey sweats and oversized hoodie, a backpack strewn over one shoulder.

'Fortunately not. There’s only so much pretentious business ladies in pencil skirts buying mille-feuille that I can handle.’

'I can imagine.' You sighed, glancing out at the thousands of raindrops hitting the shop window.

'At least its your day off tomorrow.'

You smiled internally: he knew your work schedule probably better than he knew his own.

'You might as well get something since you were stood out there for so long.' You started, opening a brown paper bag and waiting for the mans response.

'Hmmm...Is this new?' He pointed through the thick glass of the display.

You giggled. 'I’m glad you noticed. It’s a little something new we’re trialing, made by yours truly.'

'You shouldn’t have said that, I’ll end up buying the whole stock for you.'

'Don’t be stupid.' You chuckled, handing him the treat over the counter. 'Get going you idiot, I have to clean up.'

He took the bag with a smile. ‘I’ll see you soon, and let you know how good it tasted.'

---

Yet you never did see him soon.

The man stopped turning up after his shifts finished, he stopped waiting behind the long lines of customers. You would catch yourself staring out of the shop window, waiting-or maybe,hoping- to see a familiar mess of jet black hair pop into view, a gummy smile that made your heart burst, an outstreched hand waving excitedly at you.

But you never saw it.

'Are you expecting someone?' Your mother had asked you one day, when the shop was calm and empty, shaking you out of your daydream.

'No, why do you ask?' you wondered.

'You keep looking out of the window as if someones meant to be there.'

You nearly sighed, running a hand through your hair.

'It’s fine, just bored.'

‘Well the banquets tonight, hopefully you wont be bored there.'

The banquet had slipped your mind. It was a fancy dinner for corporate directors of companies around the country. Of course, you and your family had been invited. You knew your mom was hoping for you to meet some handsome rich man; she was always asking when you were ever going to get with anyone.

It was dumb you thought, constantly thinking of the man from the patisserie. You knew nothing about him, just his name and where he worked. Other than that, his whole existence was an enigma. That’s why it hurt when he stopped visiting, because you couldn’t even call him to ask what was up, or visit his home to check in.

He was a mystery man.

Then why did you care so much?

---

The truth was, Seungcheol wasn’t allowed to come see you. As he walked into his house, munching on the chocolate tart you had so carefully handed him, he couldn’t wait to tell you how good it was.

'Are you actually being serious?' his younger brother had said to him as he walked over to the fridge.

'What is it?' he turned around, chocolate circling his mouth.

'That’s from THEIR bakery... oh you are in so much trouble when I tell dad.' His brother ran off in the direction of their fathers study.

Dumbfounded, Seungcheol wondered. What was wrong with the bakery? It was just a local joint, surely no place his father would have any issue with.

However, as he turned the brown bag around to see the logo adorned on the front, he nearly dropped the tart.

There was no way.

No way he had fallen for someone he couldnt have.

----

So when you saw your parents disgusted faces as they looked at the family on the opposite side of the banquet hall, and your eyes fell upon a disgruntled Seungcheol, you had to stop your jaw from falling open.

It suddenly made sense, why he had seemingly ghosted you for weeks. His family mustve found out about him seeing you at the bakery.

His eyes met yours as you sat down at your table, and you swore you saw them light up.

You weren’t going to give up on this mystery man just because of your parents.

-

So fast forward to now, nearly 2 years later, where you were sat on your kitchen counter, the now not so mystery man in front of you.

Over the years, you and Cheol had been secretly hanging out without your parents' knowledge. You thought it was dumb, how the two of you, both adults with stable jobs and social lives, were meeting up in secret like teenagers hiding a relationship. Yet you knew if either of your families were made aware of this, they would do anything to stop it.

‘I’m sorry.' The man breathed out with a heavy sigh, his eyes suddenly glistening with the type of glow you hated to see. 'It’s okay.' You replied with a soft smile, patting the top of his head. You were used to this, Cheol getting too ahead of himself and apologising like a child getting caught stealing sweets.

It wasnt like he had never felt you before, the hotness of your skin against his hands as he ran them down your arms, your spine, your legs was something he knew well.

He had had all of you: apart from one place. Your lips.

You knew if your lips ever grazed upon his, you could never go back. And as much as you wanted it, as much as your body was craving it, you knew of its consequences.

'I’ll get going now.' He whispered, pushing himself away from the counter and picking up his suit jacket from the sofa.

-

You leant against the corridor doorway, watching the man pull on his dress shoes.

'See you tomorrow then? I’ve got some new cupcakes coming in that I think you’ll like.'

His ears shot up at the sound of sweets, and you giggled.

Some things never change.

He kissed the top of your head before opening your front door.

'See you tomorrow muffin.' he smiled, before walking out and closing the door behind him.

And everytime you saw his back in front of you, you hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

~~~~

a/n: ahhhh this is my first ever fic on here so if anyone reads this- which honestly im not expecting much- i hope you enjoyed, heres to many more xo

[musicallisto]

Hi Clara!! Congratulations on 800 followers again!! (also I was looking through your blog and we have the same birthday!! 🥳) I was wondering if I could please have a male Bridgerton ship? I’m an ENFJ, libra, and Hufflepuff if that helps at all. I can be a bit introverted a times but I’m usually a pretty outgoing, kind, and optimistic person! (although I can be a bit sensitive at times lol) Currently I’m studying to be a teacher. My friends/family are very important to me, and I will always try my best to help them it whatever ways I can. As for some things I enjoy, I love to read and write, as well as spend all day watching movies. I’m also interested in signing, acting, etc. and making things with my hands (ie. knitting, embroidery). Thank you so much in advance!! 💛

hiii birthday twin!! <3 you seem like the most fantastic person ever, I love your personality - and your writing, but it goes without saying. I hope you like your vanilla milkshake, but don’t get caught sipping on it unchaperoned with benedict bridgerton, that would be quite the scandal...

Now, was I influenced by your profile picture? Probably. But even without it, you’d be perfect for each other, and let me tell you the story of you both.

For your first society outings, and following your debutante ball, you became the talk of all London. Sure, you were praised far and wide for your beauty, but there was something else, ineffable and far more tender, that caused your name to linger on most gentlemen’s lips.

It was your first season, and yet you had already shown a mesmerizing elegance and poise, as well as an acute optimism and enthusiasm, making your conversation all the more enjoyable to all those you encountered.

Benedict had noticed you on your first ball, when whispers of your name and your every move had spread among the crowd like wildfire, and he had to admit that you were radiant, and your warm and welcoming smile gave you beauty like no other, but bright eyes and rosy cheeks were legion this side of London, and he knew the superficiality of these pretty little faces all too well. He wasn’t intrigued enough to start up a conversation or ask you to dance, and imagined you would be married in a matter of weeks.

But as time went on, and you apparently gracefully declined each proposal you received, Benedict couldn’t help growing a little bit more captivated each time he heard your name. What could you possibly waiting for? You’d had dashing young men bring you presents, you’d had the wealthiest nobles serenade you with flowers and compare you to a summer’s day; you’d had sonnets and promenades and bouquets and jewelry... and yet you had rejected them all, but not out of malice, still with this grace that everyone knew you to have.

Perhaps, and it was a little pretentious of him to dare entertain the thought, but it pleased a small part of his soul nonetheless, perhaps what you were waiting for was a portrait.

Eventually, after having theorized for days about what could possibly prompt such unambiguous refusals from a lady who seemed to have plethora of choice, Lady Whistledown must have deemed your situation to be less worthy of attention, because not scandalous enough, and you, like most other trends and fashions in that everchanging society, became an old tale before you’d even reached your prime.

But paradoxically, exactly when you were no longer the subject of Whistledown’s tittle-tattle, were you the most intriguing to Benedict.

It was then that he finally asked you to dance, under the watchful (and, though she did not show it, agreeably surprised) gaze of Lady Violet Bridgerton.

“You look positively radiant, lady Y/L/N. Your gown is exquisite.”

And he immediately regretted every single word that he had just said; he sounded just like those boring Lords you had rejected one after the other; but he meant it, he truly meant it, for he was just then seeing the hues in your eyes and in your smile, all those colors like those of a vibrant landscape...

If there ever was a time to show the depths of his soul, it was then; but he had always been good at avoiding conversation, not prompting it.

Still, you didn’t drop your beaming smile, and answered with a slight blush.

“Thank you, my lord. It is... oh, you will think it’s silly.”

“Not at all, I promise.”

“You see, you are the first to say that. Other lords have reproached its simplicity, but I am rather fond of it, because I sewed it myself.”

“Really? That’s impressive!”

He found he had little trouble continuing with the conversation after that, because you were so easy to talk to, so understanding of everything he said and so enthralling to get to know. You were creative and great with your hands, an artist, just like him, and it was the first of many things he would love about you.

“Tell me, lord Bridgerton... I have heard that you are quite the artist yourself.”

“Oh, that’s a gross exaggeration, they are but half-good sketches, nothing of interest, truly...”

Yet as he danced the night away with you, he felt as though a new blood surged through his veins, ready to craft the most beautiful pieces the world had ever seen, if only they could resemble the colors of your face.

“Well, I would love to see these half-good sketches someday, if you allow. I am sure they are brilliant.”

You had never seen a lord blush before, especially not a Bridgerton. It made your heart soar like it had rarely before.

“If you so wish. I couldn’t possibly refuse a lady.”

All along the ride back home, Benedict has the hugest, silliest grin on his face as he looks wistfully at the night sky.

“If it is what it takes to see my beloved brother swoon like a simpleton, then I will come to society balls more often.”

“Eloise, do not talk of your brother like that!”

But she’s right - it only took one night for him to be completely enraptured by you. He understands what they all meant when they couldn’t keep your name out of their mouths, when they said you were delightful and spirited... but they all hurried with their proposals, without getting to know you first, without listening to you, without discovering the depths of your character, and it’s all he wants all he can think about.

The next morning, he’s at your doorstep with a bouquet, and, of course, tightly wrapped inside it so as to not draw suspicion, a few of his sketches, ones that he drew the evening prior because his mind was too restless to sleep.

And thus begins a long period of courtship that has all of London in a frenzy. Surely no one expected the second eldest Bridgerton and the former diamond to have an affinity for each other. Truly no one.

“My Benedict has his heart set on an accomplished lady, a beautiful and clever one at that - this truly is the season of surprises! All a fulfilled mother would need now is for your brother to be the next to mend his ways...”

“And all his brother would need now, mother, is an escape from this interminable paperwork, but alas.”

You can often be seen promenading together in Hyde Park - you enjoy the company of the squirrels and the geese as much as he loves taking in the sceneries to later paint them.

“Y/N, pardon me if it is too bold of me to ask, but why are you not engaged yet? Surely you must have had a plethora of charming young men propose to you...”

“Handsome they were, but hardly charming. Oh, they all had plenty of qualities... an estate by the sea, a racing stable with twenty horses, a spot in the throne succession... but, oh, I care little if this is unbecoming of me to say, they were all so boring! None of them had half the charm that you have. The hours fly by when I am with you, Benedict, and I am entirely truthful when I say I have never felt as content as I feel with you.”

Everyone is London is awaiting the moment they’ll see you with a ring on that finger, but it seems to never come; yet everything is idyllic and your courtship and, beyond that, in your friendship, and he sincerely knows that he is irrevocably and utterly in love with you. But he just doesn’t dare ask.

To the point that Benedict’s entourage give him signals that it is now or never. Even Anthony, though with varying success.

“If you don’t propose to Lady Y/L/N, brother, I will.”

(And no one believed that.)

“Fine, I will, then!”

“Eloise!”

But what he has with you is so special that he’s terrified of rushing things. What if you are not ready, what if he is not as interesting, just as boring as the other men you turned down? What if he read everything wrong? What if...

Until he shoots his shot. It’s not nearly as romantic as he expected, because he fumbles over his words a few times and almost drops the ring in the Hyde Park lake...

... but given the enthusiasm with which you nod and embrace him - not caring about the passerby’s judging gazes -, he’s not sure why he agonized over it so much.

It’s self-evident that your love story is one for the ages.

800 follower sleepover

[cass-burger]

Wow stardew really did dunk on cyberpunk didn’t it? I know it’s not exactly the perfect comparison they’re very different games trying to do very different things but I’m totally fine with just having games like stardew (not in terms of gameplay but in terms of scope I guess is the right word). Funny how a game made with love and with no pretentiousness to revolutionize or be the “game with best X” is not only playable on every platform it also has a huge following for a few years now and is still getting updates that are crazy good (and free the updates that is) mean while mister “we’re going to revolutionize gaming with the best and most in-depth character creator ever” got kicked out of the PlayStation store

maybe I just follow all the right people but it really feels to me this year that the games that have actually left a cultural impact on people or that have managed to stay in the conversation space (where others, the typically “big name” titles, have died down a bit after release or don’t even really get talked about at all) are the games that you can clearly see were made with love and cos it’s what people wanted to make and what they truly believed would be just actually fun to play. if i think of the games that came out this year that are still popular and talked about right now i would say among us, fall guys, hades, animal crossing (although that did die down a bit but I feel like that’s got a lot to do with the villager dialogue trees unfortunately being extremely shallow), phasmophobia popped up a bit there towards the end of the year. outside of animal crossing none of these are what you would consider ‘big name’ titles. closest I can think of is fall guys just cos they have the backing of revolver which is a decent sized game company by its own name but even then it didn’t get much airtime at all until it was released and became massively popular. the one thing that all these games have in common at least in my eyes is that they were made with so much love by the creators and it really shines through.

now I’m sure the triple a titles that made shittons of money and won big at the game awards and sold consoles and all that, im sure they were also made with love. i don’t want to say the devs on those games weren’t putting their love into it and weren’t passionate about what they were making cos I can guarantee they were. what I am saying however is that the love being poured into it never got a chance to shine through. now there’s a bunch of reasons for that *cough*CAPITALISM*cough* and I think that the way triple a games are made is actually very restrictive to what the game can achieve. the art style is almost exclusively ~realistic~ to the point that how close to uncanny valley or lifelike or w/e you can get, the better. the hours and exhaustion and lack of good leadership almost always lead to things being overlooked in development resulting in a load of bugs and glitches and general problems with the game, the most well demonstrated example so far being cp77.

now back to the non-big-name, cass’s-personal-decision-of-what-the-most-loved-games-of-2020-were list of games, I’m not gonna say none of those problems were there (well maybe the art style one. none of these games are “realistic” looking lol), I’m saying that even if they were there, the leadership and teamwork and vision and whatever else was good enough that the games we got were fun to play, fun to look at, able to continue to be popular despite having much less “content” than other names, and the ‘made with love’ thing I keep talking about really really shone through.

now to actually get back on topic for this ask, I know stardew valley didn’t come out this year, and it’s definitely taken a bit of a backseat since a few years ago when it was the most popular indie game, but it ticks all of the same boxes as the other games on this list, AND it was made by one man!! Like!! Albeit I’m pretty sure he now has a small team helping him but STILL! basically this very long tangent deviating away from what you were asking is just to say that stardew valley and any other game like it where it doesn’t matter how many people worked on it or how graphically or performance-heavily impressive it is, will always beat out any triple a game as to how much people care about it and want to play and keep playing it well after release. it’s because it’s made with love and the creator/s are able to share that love with people playing it and it makes the people playing it love it all that much more. i honestly can’t say I’m surprised that sv did better than cp77 this year because like of course it did. it was always going to. the content coming out of a capitalistic machine cranking out triple a titles will never be able to live up to the passion project of some dude who doesn’t have a proper desk and just wants to make a cute pixel art game where you farm and romance cute people. it just isn’t possible under capitalism and the way that triple a games are made.

[dopposhusband]

Hifumi Hate Club with Gentaro

Looks like it’s time to meet Gentaro at club

“I HATE HIFUMI!”

Swan leaned back into the comfort of his recliner, crossing his arms triumphantly as if what he said was in some way revolutionary when that was what these meetings were for. Despite it being the obvious, Gentaro nodded and leaned forward, almost as if invested in the statement that at this point was beyond overused in this setting. “Ah, I’m glad we’re still in agreement~” With his two-cents added the room was still, meetings always started with an exclamation of hatred for the host then delved straight into continuing the book they’d been working on however it had long been finished.

“The book has already become a best seller and currently fourth in sells, but predicted to hit first by this Wednesday~”

A smirk was shared between the two, it was the perfect revenge! A love story about Hifumi, an ashamed prince who had fallen for two travelers, but left broken-hearted. Of course, names and identities were tweaked to avoid too much suspicion, along with the very real possibility of legal trouble if Hifumi wanted to pursue it. Swan watches Gentaro’s finger trace over the glossy cover of a hardcover print, he had designed the art himself and took great pride in it, but he was itching to do anything. “So, now what?”

A smirk plastered onto Gentaros face, the same one he wore when he first presented the idea of a revenge story. “I have an idea...” Those were also the very same words in the exact same tone he had used as well, so it didn’t take too long to guess what that plan truly was. However, with one eyebrow peeked, it was obvious that the vague statement had caught his attention. “Here’s what I suggest: ‘The number one host in Japan has found himself in love with, not one, but two of his clients! Now he must choose between his job or the two dashing men!’” Swan’s eyes widen before a smirk overtakes him, this would be the perfect revenge! Even more perfect than the last one!

“Ooooh! If we’re going to tiptoe the line of reality then may I suggest we go to the host club ourselves for some hands-on experience with the blond bastard himself?!” Sly and to the point, Gentaro was almost about to suggest that himself, but he’s glad the thought was the same. Then came their plan, they would waste time until night fell and make their way to Top Dandy and request Hifumi with the reason of needing to study the most unbearable man for a book, which wasn’t really untrue. The outfits had already been chosen as well, Gentaro would stay in his usual wear since it peeved Hifumi the most and Swan would dress up a little more class so he can get past the dress code. Now all that was left was to wait.

Who would’ve expected that to be the hardest part, but that’s beside the point, it was time and they were at the step of Top Dandy. Past the artificial neon glow of the outside city and through the doors into the artificial gold glow of a pretentious host club, the two order Gigolo and are seated immediately. The wait continues as their hearts race at a bpm the tacky ‘glamorous’ music only wished it could achieve. With sweaty palms and dry breaths, the two are huddled, watching the bob of an all too familiar cowlick as its owner steered by tables and other hosts.

“Oh, Yumeno and Swan! This must surely be a mistake, our club doesn’t let animals inside~! What are you doing here, are you sure you can even afford it?”

Cold words contradicted the artificial sunshine of the host’s face, as he takes his spot on the booth across from them. Gentaro chuckles and brings the drink menu to his eyes before flicking them back to the host for the briefest moment. “If you must really know, we’re here for the experience, so we can work on our next novel with the upmost accuracy” He drops the menu before pointing to a random bottle in the middle, anywhere else that bottle would be pricey but here it was only middle tier. “Please, don’t worry about our expenses, while Swan went uncredited, we are both sitting pretty with the launch of our book”

Hifumi snaps his fingers, grabbing the attention of the waiter and putting in our drink order. “Oh, ‘Journey of the Lost Few’, right? I’ve read a little bit of it and I can say it is a little overhyped, but alas I must be up to date on all things for my lovely kittens” The waiter brings them their bottle, alongside their glasses and Hifumi grabs it, popping the cork in a way only years of host experience can get you. He tips the bottle smoothly and pours out almost unnervingly even portions before setting it aside, the smirk never leaves his face.

Swan picks his glass sniffing the contents slightly before tilting it back, champagne wasn’t his type of taste and the bubbles hurt his throat, but even that he wouldn't let show. “I’m surprised you knew of it, Gigolo, I was sure that you read exclusively picture books, but perhaps I was wrong in assuming you only needed a third-grade reading level to be a host?” Hifumi chuckles into the rim of his glass before carefully placing it down, leaning forward to pluck a stray hair out of Swan’s vision.

“Oh, believe me I do more than read bottle labels and look pretty drinking champagne, I also get the displeasure of dealing with brats such as yourself” He leans forward whispering into the brunettes ear, hushed but no anger lost. “So, trust me when I say, I know how to put you in your place” Hifumi pulls back, bringing his glass back to his lips as he stares down the now flustered boy. Gentaro leans forward, swirling his glass absentmindedly as he tries to divide the attention off of his poor comrade.

“My, do you treat all of your guests like this?”

“Of course not, just to the ones that intend to cause trouble” Finishing his glass, he grabs the bottle, refilling his and topping off Gentaro and Swans as well. “But off the topic of me, I want to talk about you, Yumeno” He tilts his head, curious and responding with only a hum, what did the champagne gold host have to say? Hifumi chuckles into his hand before abruptly taking Gentaro’s into his own, less to hold and more to expose more of his usual outfit. “I saw your picture on the back, it such a shame, you looked so handsome in that outfit of yours and yet you continue to run in rags. What a wasted face~”

He had dropped his hand and slowly, Gentaro retracted it back to his chest, too flustered to respond to the flattery caked in insults. Before either of them could truly recovered, Hifumi stood, finishing his glass in one drink. “I’m afraid that our time is up, thank you for visiting me and I hope to see you again, my kittens~” Then off he went, gone with both their money and all the dignity they had come in with. Shakily, they left the booth, both tipsy from the adrenaline and the bit of alcohol they had drunk and left with as much grace as they could summon.

“I hate Hifumi”

[yellowocaballero]

for the directors cut thing: Bell, Book, and Candle, any part :)

Me typing all these out when I’m supposed to be responding to emails: this is my revenge against my workplace for nobody fucking muting their line during the staff meeting today putting me in an echo chamber hellscape -

Anyway, this section specifically is at the request of my sibling @jimhensonreject, who refuses to send me an ask like a normal person. I’m not sure if I’ve already talked about this passage, so if I have please let me know and I’ll do another passage to make up for it!

“I’m an entertainer, Jon. I love the thrill of thousands of people listening to my voice.” Georgie’s gaze remained fixed on him, piercing, questioning, but warm. “Ever since I was a kid I’ve been obsessed with being known. I’ve always needed people to understand me, who I really am. That was what I liked about you - we were similar, and we had known each other for so long, I felt as if I was finally with somebody who understood every centimeter of me. I’ve always needed to express myself. I can’t bear the thought of dying with nobody having known who I am. What do we leave behind but our imprints, right? If there's somebody out there who knows me completely, even after I pass, did I even really die?”

Jon was silent. Weirdly, irrationally, he thought of Martin. What did it mean, to be unknown, but to be cared about anyway ? Finally, all he could say was, “Loneliness is a terrible thing. But to be known and understood is...terrible, in its own way too. I’d rather have nobody know the real me than to have somebody know who I truly am, and reject me.”

“But you’ll never be accepted if you don’t take that risk,” Georgie argued. “We all open ourselves up for heartbreak when we allow ourselves to become close to somebody. Our hearts heal when we’re rejected. But an acceptance is forever, isn’t it?”

Jon didn’t say anything. He found his fingers drifting to his hair, which he had long since given up on making manageable, and settled around his face in a puffy cloud which was far from professional.

“You keep on pretending to be somebody you’re not,” Georgie said lowly. “I swear, if you were a woman you would relax your hair.”

It’s rare for me to put the ‘point’ of a story so early on, but I’m glad I did - I feel like it conveyed to people on the fence about continuing what I really wanted this story to be about. Namely, three things:

1) The mortifying ordeal of being known

2) That Jon comes from a background he is ashamed of, and has oriented his personality around pretending to be somebody he’s not

3) Georgie will be instrumental to Jon’s growth as a person over the course of this story, because she symbolizes this past that he’s ashamed of, and that when they accept each other it will also metaphorically be a self-acceptance. 

I changed Jon’s backstory a lot for this fic to make it more similar to mine so I could continue projecting onto him for story purposes. Georgie in this fic is very different from canon (just because I hadn’t actually seen her in canon yet lol whoops), because as a childhood friend she’s someone who sees through him and his defense mechanisms. I’ve seen people interpret Jon’s privileged and pretentious attitude as him genuinely coming from a privileged and suburban background - nah, son. The only person who is that desperate to be taken seriously is someone who is afraid that nobody will. In this fic, Jon came from nothing, and he’s terrified of someone finding out and knowing that he is nothing.  

It’s impossible to bring all of this up and not talk about race issues, but for the most part I try to stay in my lane and talk about class issues. Jon’s intersection of identities, of being both a man and black and queer and low-income, intersect with each other in a meaningful way that I just tend to symbolize through talking about class. The house moving scene was cool, but it was also intensely metaphorical of Jon “trading up” in life, finally attaining that ‘perfect life’ at a terrible cost. 

In regards to this conversation specifically, it’s based very deeply off a series of conversations I’ve had with my own childhood friend (hi honey!). Georgie’s my mouthpiece here: there is a reason why I keep on putting my own thoughts, feelings, and experiences in my fiction. I really want people to know me. I want that acceptance that I can’t give myself. Jon’s my friend, but also kind of me: what if you open yourself up for that acceptance, but it’s rebuffed? That’s heart-breaking. But you can never have that acceptance and love you want if you never have that vulnerability. There will be times you are hurt and damaged by that vulnerability, but the heart can heal from that. A heart that goes without love or understanding for its whole life can never heal. 

A lot of Socratic dialogue in my fics, haha. But the beauty of Jon & Georgie in this fic was that they approached each other from a place of knowing everything about each other, of understanding each other completely...and hating each other. They had hurt each other, both had mental illness issues, and they both viewed the other person as kind of toxic. But what differentiates this fic from canon is that Jon opens up to Georgie way sooner and way more completely, and Georgie reciprocates. Georgie is the person who forces Jon to open himself up and rely on other people for love and home and family, and Jon’s the person who helps Georgie find direction, purpose, and meaning in her life. I never stated it explicitly, but Georgie was just kind of drifting before Jon re-entered her life.

On some level, it is kind of scary hanging out with someone who remembers all the shitty stuff you did as a kid. But for someone to see that about you, and like you anyway? It’s very priceless (Hi honey!). This scene is them seeing that they are two messy, fucked-up, not great people, and asking themselves if it was possible to try again. To choose to be good, and choose to love. That it was more valuable to have someone who knew and loved you on your team than it was trying to do it alone. 

Thanks for the question! 

[anotherdayinchuckletown]

They’re Funny That Way, Chapter 1

Hey, guys! How’s it going? I’ve been writing for about ten years now, but this is only the second ever fic I’ve shared anywhere, so I’m super nervous!!!  

This is basically my take on a Harley Quinn origin story tailored to the universe of Joker (2019).  It’s going to be Harley like we’ve never seen her before, with lots of Arthur, lots of Sophie, lots of original characters, and lots of twists and turns.

I’m SO beyond excited to finally share this with you guys, and I hope you all enjoy! Please like, comment, reblog if you do so that I know if you guys love reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it!  This fic is also posted to my AO3 account (https://archiveofourown.org/users/marie_deneuve), so you can also read it there if you’d like!

Without further ado, heeeere we go!!

Chapter 1

 The apartment building at Eleven-Forty Anderson Avenue is an eyesore situated in the midst of a likewise ugly city called Gotham. A pimple on a face only a mother could love. A pariah among pariahs.

Management has long since stopped caring about its maintenance, leaving it a patchwork of leaking ceilings, cracking foundations, and broken windows haphazardly boarded shut. Even the most seasoned resident of Gotham City would quicken his pace when passing the telltale archways which separate the apartments from the rest of the city.

Sophie Dumond is currently doing her best to avoid saying any of that out loud.

“It’s really not that bad,” she lies. “Definitely a far cry from where you’re living now, but once you get used to it, it’s not the worst.” Although she is on the phone, she looks down at her shoes anyway, so as not to look her guilt in the face. A crack in the tile beneath her feet stares back accusingly.

“Really? My brother told me his appliances never work, and the maintenance crew is impossible to reach,” the voice on the other line replies skeptically. It belongs to another young woman by the name of Emma Boulanger – Emma Scott, actually, ever since her marriage – who has been Sophie’s best friend since the two of them met in elementary school. She is also the godmother of Sophie’s five-year-old daughter, which was an unpopular decision she had been made to justify more times than she would have liked (honestly, though, her sister could call her if she ever became less of a pretentious bitch).

This phone call marks the first time Sophie has heard from her in one month, two weeks, and six days. Not that she’s been counting or anything.

It’s just strange not to talk to her, as she’s always the first to know of any big changes in her friend’s life. Emma is certainly the first to know about changes in Sophie’s life as well. She’s there when they both open up their letters of acceptance into Gotham University, whooping and cheering and dreaming of finally, finally leaving this shithole, getting glamorous jobs in the big city. She’s there when Sophie is curled up on her bathroom floor, crying and clutching a positive pregnancy test, wanting the best for the child growing inside of her, yet fearing she would never be able to provide it.

That’s why it’s so odd when Emma’s twin brother is the one to mention in the hallway one day that his sister has filed for divorce. And furthermore, that she’s returning to Gotham to live with him until she gets back on her feet.

“Like I said, Emma, it’s not perfect,” she relents. “But hey, at least it’ll be nice to hang out again. It’s been way too long.”

“Yeah, it really has! I moved, what, almost two years ago?” Emma’s voice brightens marginally, and Sophie can nearly see the lopsided grin spreading across her face, so familiar is she with every tic, every tell, every minuscule inflection to her words. “Metropolis is boring as hell, by the way. I almost miss Gotham - call me crazy.”

Sophie huffs, knowing full well that Emma is playing it cool - trying not to let on how much she dreads moving back to a city she called a living, breathing prison for so many years. Best to keep things lighthearted then. Empathize with her, acknowledge her feelings, but never, never pity her. “You’re definitely crazy, Em,” she shoots back, raising an eyebrow. “What exactly does it for you, the enormous rats or the graffiti dicks?”

An almost imperceptible chuckle filters through the receiver. “Well, no one ever really escapes Gotham, do they? I figure I might as well develop a little Stockholm Syndrome.”

Sophie doesn’t immediately respond to the bleak sentiment. It’s simply a joke, of course, and as a matter of fact, very on-brand. But there’s enough truth to it to cause a momentary lapse in the lightness of their conversation.

Sophie has found gradually that Emma was right growing up. Gotham truly seems less like a place and more like an entity. It has a certain way of taking, taking, taking from a person, and when that person has nothing left to give, taking just a little bit more. The citizens meander like restless spirits, doomed to wander to and from their low-wage jobs for eternity. The air is heavier out there, tugging their faces down into sour expressions, aging them prematurely. A reflection of their surroundings.

Sophie often wonders if she looks the way they do.

If Emma notices the shift – which she certainly does, she always does – she politely ignores it. “I guess beggars can’t be choosers… It was nice of Eddie to let me stay with him on such short notice.” Fondly, she adds, “He may be a bit of a shithead, but he’s a good brother.”

Before Sophie can stop herself, she laughs aloud. “No comment. We do live on the same floor, you know.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Do you two ever hang out?”

“Not particularly.” Sophie doesn’t dislike Eddie – quite the opposite, in fact. She always chalks up her lack of chemistry with him to simply having nothing in common. He and Emma share nothing but a birthday, a head of golden hair, and a pair of striking ice-blue eyes.

Rapid footsteps make their way into the foyer, breaking Sophie out of her reverie. “Mommy, look what I drew!”

Muttering a quick “hang on a second” into the receiver, she turns toward the source of the sound, and a sheet of paper is practically shoved in her face from below. She is met with a mish-mosh of various shapes and colors, one large brown figure taking precedence in the middle of the page.

She smiles warmly. “Wow, that’s very good, Gigi! What’s that a picture of?”

The artist beams with pride. “It’s the roach you killed in the bathroom yesterday!”

Son of a bitch.

“Can we put it on the fridge, Mommy?”

Blinking owlishly, Sophie scrambles for a response. They really don’t teach her this shit in those parenting books she sometimes finds at Gotham Central Library.

She settles on, “Honey, you already have so many nice ones up there, I just can’t decide which ones to keep! Let’s put this one away for now, and I’ll think about it, okay?” She offers her free hand to take the drawing so that she can accidentally misplace it later.

It does the trick. “Okay!” her daughter chirps, proudly handing over her portrait. Encourage, then swiftly change the subject – a motherly sort of manipulation that works in everyone’s favor.

“Holy shit, I haven’t even asked about Gigi yet!” Emma exclaims. “God, she must be getting so big! She starts Kindergarten this year, right?”

“Yeah, in the fall. And she comes all the way up to my waist now, isn’t that insane?” Unmistakable pride colors Sophie’s response.

“That’s so awesome! Did she miss me at all?” comes over the receiver as Gigi simultaneously begins an onslaught of “who’s that, Mommy, who’s that?”

“Miss you? Are you kidding? Listen to this.” Sophie crouches next to her daughter, holding the phone away from her ear, but nearby so that Emma can hear. “Gigi, your Aunt Emma’s on the phone. She’s coming to live here again soon, isn’t that great?”

The resounding shriek is a good indicator that she agrees. And that Sophie is going to have to bring the neighbors another gift basket so they don’t complain about her to the landlord.

“Can I talk to Aunt Emma, Mommy? Can I, can I, please, please, please?” Tiny, impatient hands grapple for the phone as laughter pours in from the other line.

“Come on, if I let you talk to her now, we’ll be stuck here forever.” A quick glance at the clock reveals that it’s nearing eight o'clock. “Besides, aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for bed soon?”

Gigi wrinkles her nose in distaste, and Sophie cuts her off before the complaints can begin. “No arguments, Gigi. Go start your bath – I’ll be there in just a minute.”

She receives a defiant huff; nevertheless, Gigi stomps her way to the bathroom, and Sophie waits for the sound of running water before she returns to the previous conversation.

“So anyway, Eddie tells me you’re holed up in a hotel room until the weekend. I’m guessing that Daniel didn’t take the…the breakup news very well?” she asks, somewhat cautiously. Talking about Emma’s husband – now ex-husband – is a mixed bag, even back when they were dating.

“You could say that,” Emma responds sheepishly. “It wasn’t pretty, let’s leave it at that. I thought it would be best for me to get out of the house right away, give him some time to himself.”

It makes Sophie nervous that she is skirting the question, but then again, Emma’s in a vulnerable position at the moment. And she’s rarely one to talk at length about her own emotions in the first place – she’s much more of a listener.

Sophie would like to ask what she means by “it wasn’t pretty”, but decides against prying. She would also like to ask why she ever married that jackass in the first place, since their relationship had been obviously strained from day one. It was always as if the two of them were tightrope walking over a volcano – bubbling quietly, boiling and threatening to swallow them both whole. The smallest change in the wind, the most harmless comment about Daniel not picking his towel up off the floor could send them tumbling into the inferno. She supposes one of them finally fell.

Something about that man has always creeped her out, but she gave up voicing her discontent with him after about the thirtieth time Emma brushed her off. She won’t say “I told you so”, since she wouldn’t want to belittle whatever pain Emma is going through. Still, she can’t help but feel a little relief – that doesn’t make her a terrible friend, right?

All of this can wait, though. It can wait until they’re seeing each other face-to-face again. Until Sophie isn’t on a strict time limit. She needs to wrap up the current conversation quickly because if she doesn’t, she could possibly be dealing with a flooded bathroom shortly. Five-year-olds do not generally care about the cost of repairing water damage if it seeps into the downstairs neighbor’s ceiling.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay, with…you know…everything.”

“Of course!” Emma reassures her. “I’m perfectly fine. Like I said, I’m looking forward to being home. Honestly.”

Sophie is not convinced, and frankly, it sounds like Emma is not either. She wonders if her friend has been checking in on the worsening condition of their hometown from Metropolis. The homeless population is growing by the day, and the working class is becoming more and more restless due to low wages and poor working conditions in the inner city. Rumor has it that sanitation workers are chief among the dissatisfied, and a garbage strike is all but guaranteed by winter.

So much she wants to say. So much she can’t say. “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

 _______________________________________________________________

Emma remembers around this time last year taking a trip to Paris, France. She saw the premiere of a musical there called Les Misérables – it was based off of her favorite book by Victor Hugo, so naturally, she begged and begged to go.

And what a payoff! The show was spectacular, from the costumes to the stage design to the music. Oh, the music! Despite being there with her then-husband, she had the most fun she’d had in years, letting the melancholy chords turn her as light as the air and the lyrics carry her far, far away in the wind.

Even more than the music, she was captivated by the plot. She could practically feel the plight of the poverty-stricken citizens. One of the opening scenes depicted the starving masses singing of their grief over the way they were snubbed by the wealthy, left to rot in the streets.

That is the scene Emma finds herself stepping into today. Only this time, she is not a passive observer, watching the events unfold without being affected. From today on, she is one of the characters.

From the moment she arrives in downtown Gotham City by taxi, the tension claws at her with icy hands. It digs into her ribcage with each glare aimed her way, even in the mild September breeze. She knows she sticks out like a preacher at a Pride parade in her obviously expensive skirt and heels. It’s not like she had time to go digging around her closet for something more appropriate that night she left her house.

Handsomely tipping her driver, she climbs out of the car and rushes underneath a set of archways and inside the apartment building where she’ll be living for the foreseeable future. She doesn’t look very closely at it from the outside, so desperate is she to get off the street and away from whatever the hell that smell is.

Emma uses the opportunity to finally look around a bit, taking her surroundings in with narrowed eyes. The lobby is dimly-lit, with no color to it whatsoever. The walls are painted a chipped-up brownish yellow, which could have been white many years ago. It reeks of mold, to the point where the smell outside might be the lesser of the two evils.  

Leaning carefully against the nearest wall, she mutters, “Not that bad, my ass.” From her purse, she retrieves her recently-purchased copy of a new novel titled Jumanji, and she waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

…

…

…

Emma’s eyes snap open - she hadn’t consciously closed them to begin with. She realizes with embarrassment that she almost fell asleep standing up. God, she’s more exhausted than she thought. How long has she been standing down here anyway?

“I’ll be home from work around four; I just need a little time to tidy up before you head over,” Eddie had said on the phone the night before. “I’ll meet you in the lobby and walk you up at six, okay?”

“That works,” Emma had replied. “As long as you’re actually there at six.”

“Hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve never exactly had a reputation for being punctual.”

“Jesus, Em. You think I’m gonna leave you hanging out down there alone?”

“We’ll see.”

Shutting her book, Emma checks her watch.

Six forty-five. That fucking flake forgot.

She groans, pushing herself languidly off the wall and scanning the room for assistance. No one at the front desk - in fact, there hasn’t been anyone there since she arrived, making her wonder briefly if she’s even in the right building.

Her eyes next land on the myriad of mailboxes against the opposite wall, closed off from the rest of the lobby by rusted wrought-iron bars, most likely to protect the postman. She walks through the open gate tentatively, and upon closer inspection, each mailbox has a sticker labeling the residents by apartment number. Bingo!

It doesn’t take long to find what she’s looking for. On the eighth floor, perfectly spelled out for her, she sees both S. Dumond in 8B and E. Boulanger in 8H. Why not visit the one who didn’t leave her stranded for an hour first? She could always call Eddie on Sophie’s phone anyway - the asshole probably smoked a joint as soon as he got home and passed out on the couch watching Magnum, P.I.

She heads for the elevator and presses the call button. As it whines slowly and almost menacingly down the shaft, she hears someone softly trudging along behind her, the very first sign of another life in here. As she enters the elevator, she politely holds the door open, and makes room for the clown getting on after her.

No, not a silly person. An actual clown. Painted face, red nose, neon green hair and all.

Of all the weird people she might expect to see in a place like this… Not even two hours in Gotham, and the evening is already shaping up to be quite the roller coaster.

Emma can’t help but stare as the doors shut and the clown punches the button for, coincidentally, the eighth floor. She settles into the far corner as she discreetly analyzes him. His posture, his defeated gait, the pitiful expression underneath his painted-on smile… His aura permeates the entire space, seemingly enough to weigh them both down, causing the elevator to drag slowly up the shaft like molasses, screeching all the way.

This is without a doubt the saddest clown Emma has ever seen. And she’s seen Pagliacci.

Around the third floor, there’s one long, particularly loud screech. Emma’s heart leaps to her throat as their ascent suddenly comes to a complete halt, and the lights in the tiny elevator space flicker on and off once. Is a three-story drop enough to kill a person her size? She prays that this isn’t how it ends - in this dingy elevator, terrified, with no one but a fucking clown. A clown who hasn’t moved an inch this entire time.

Thankfully, after a few seconds that seem to drag on for a lifetime, they start to slowly crawl up the shaft once more. Emma breathes an audible sigh of relief, and the clown seems to finally notice her, tossing a quick look of sympathy in her general direction.

Once she’s certain she can speak without her voice quivering, she does so. “Does…that happen often?”

Her voice really gets his attention. He whips his head around so fast she almost worries his little hat will come flying off like a frisbee. He blinks at her once, then twice, as if processing the fact that she is addressing him. For a split second, it looks like he’s going to say something.

Then, remembering himself, he simply shrugs bashfully. Emma lets out a breath she doesn’t realize she’s been holding.

She notices the decorative red flower adorning his lapel, one of those prop flowers that’s actually a tiny water gun. Smiling in a way that she hopes is charming instead of ill-at-ease, she points to it. “I, uh…I like your flower. It’s very pretty.”

The clown tilts his head curiously. After a beat, he wordlessly reaches up and into his bright plaid coat, holding said flower slightly out toward her. Offering for her to come closer, to lean in and smell it.

Emboldened, she grins, shaking her head at him. “No way, mister. I know how that trick ends.” She’s kidding around with him, but she really can’t afford to get her clothes wet right now; she only has the ones on her back, after all.

Still, his lips at last curl upward, a real smile that reaches the lights of his eyes. And it’s then that Emma can see the color in them, an enchanting seafoam green that inexplicably draws her in, pulling her away from the corner and toward his side. He watches her carefully and intensely with an expression she can’t quite read. When he turns to face the doors once more, it’s not without keeping her settled in his periphery.

Most people would probably be a bit nervous being…examined so thoroughly. However, Emma finds his mannerisms endearing in an odd way. She’s never cared much for clowns before, but this one doesn’t seem so bad.

They ride in comfortable silence for another few moments. When they reach their destination, Emma is the first to exit.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m definitely taking the stairs from now on,” she says.

The clown nods in response as he exits behind her, giant red and blue shoes flopping comically over the threshold.

The hallway is a bit noisy, voices of the residents drifting through the paper-thin walls like a mist, creating a fine haze over everything. The walls are just a touch too close together, making Emma claustrophobic and urging her to get to 8B as quickly as possible.

Not wanting to come off as rude, she introduces herself. “I’m new to the building, by the way - my name’s Emma. It’s a pleasure.” She extends a hand to shake.

The clown does return the gesture, but not before staring her hand down for an abnormally long period of time. And his grip through the rough material of his gloves is so soft and careful, it’s as if it’s barely there.

She’d honestly like to chat with this fascinating new neighbor of hers a bit longer, but instead, she pulls her hand away, settling for a polite nod and a cheerful “good night”.

She does not look back to see that the clown’s unwavering gaze follows her all the way down the hall.

[andypridee]

A River’s Current | Challenge #1

here it is. i bring to you Andromeda Pride. well, andy preferably. I’m so sorry this is up sooo late but writing this was kind of a whirlwind. Please ignore any mistakes, i was writing this like a thousand miles per hour. Thank you sooo much to @arin-schreave and @itssara-oc for the rps i hope i wasn’t such a mess. so i leave you with andy. i hope you reading her as much as i enjoyed creating her.

bon appetit!

Silence flooded the room entirely. The day that just happened had been a whirlwind of things that made me completely uncomfortable. "Oh my God," I thought "This is going to continue for who knows how long" This was clearly the best time to understand the magnitude of my actions. Normally, I didn't think much before acting, but the consequences were not so huge. "Okay Andy, you're already here and there is no escape. Breathe. "

The huge room that had touched me was like a dream. A huge soft bed, a wardrobe that was a work of art in itself, a movie ceiling. "I guess this is it. The selection." A contest to win the prince's hand. Not even that. A contest to win what remains of the prince's heart, if it remains, to be able to one day be the queen of this country, although, in reality, it would only be an accessory for the king and his baby factory because obviously you have to follow the lineage And that's what women are for.

It was incredible that I could be and live, even for a short time, in a room as full of luxuries as that. Yes, my childhood had been privileged, I was aware of that, but this was just another level. He had seen, known and connected to so many places that not even in his deepest dreams could they have dreamed of something like this. And there were people who had so much power and money that this kind of room was simply a "guest room." It was increasingly difficult for me to think that solutions for millions of people were in the hands of a few who should actually provide solutions for those people.

How I wish Sierra had been there.

Anger and helplessness began to grow within me. The air didn't flow to my lungs and I had suddenly started hyperventilating. I went out on my balcony and saw around me. Everything looked so serene from afar. So uniform and so peaceful. I wanted to dive into it, keep walking until I got away from that huge and pretentious place. The edge of the balcony felt like a wall of bars to me. I was not made to live observing. And I didn't even know what I was doing here. I had no princess spirit, much less a queen. I needed to get out, talk, be able to experiment and especially help. Not standing still, looking pretty, saying the things that everyone wants to hear but being hopeful enough for those people who have almost nothing. Everything methodical, everything calculated. All coldly experienced, knowing that even if you want to do something and help, that would not make everyone happy, especially the most important ones. Living not in a home, but in an institution.

I closed my eyes for a moment and breathed. I saw a valley covered by the moon. Miles and miles spread before me, ready to be explored, ready for the unexpected. The cold air brushed my cheeks and I smiled. Then came the sea, with its smell of salt and freedom. The sun caressed my skin and comforted me. In the distance, seagulls were observed in mid-flight. This was what made me get up every morning. The possibility of a new, just, and caring world. A world wherein every place that the sea touched you could feel airs of hope and happiness.

I slowly opened my eyes and took another deep breath. I guess I couldn't do anything about my current situation anymore but I could take advantage of it.

I went to sleep with that image of the sea in my mind and I didn't wake up again until the morning rays touched my skin.

When I opened my eyes the day had already started without me. My maids, Audrey, Kate and Elaine, were fixing my room for a new day. Although I did not really understand why since everything looked extremely resplendent. The bathroom apparently was ready to tell from the condensation on the mirror and my outfit for the day hung neatly from the closet.

I closed my eyes once more wanting to be in my room in Zuni, or even in Waverly's bedrooms. Or anywhere outside of there. I opened my eyes again with the slightest hope that my wishes would come true. Obviously, they didn't, so I sighed and walked into the bathroom, ready to have at least 15 minutes of relaxation and privacy. That was, of course, until my maids started helping me.

"Um, ladies? I don't really know what to call them. Girls? Um well, I can do this alone if you don't mind. ”I tried to speak kindly to them.

"But, miss, we must help you in everything," Audrey replied in a concerned tone.

"I'm sure it doesn't refer to everything," I said, pointing to my body in the process.

"It is our duty, Miss Andromeda," Audrey replied politely.

I sighed “Okay, you can continue to do whatever other crazy duty you are dictated here but please just call me Andy. It is the only thing I ask of you. ” I said almost pleading.

"Okay, Lady Andy," Audrey answered again, who, apparently, was the one in charge of the three.

"Andy, Audrey. Andy. " I looked at her and tried to smile slightly.

"Okay La- Andy," she replied uncomfortably, but she had fulfilled what she had asked and that was an advance for me in the little that I had taken that morning, so I left it like that and I decided to violate what I considered privacy as too many levels.

-

OK. I was not a girl in dresses. And that was clearly inconvenient now. Looking at me in the mirror, I looked like a cupcake. Literally. It smelled of vanilla and everything. The dress itself was beautiful, white with gold accents and such a neat chest. Truly a work of art. But I was not wearing dresses. I felt uncomfortable and constricted, I could hardly breathe, and my arms could not rise more than 10 cm.

And now she was supposed to have breakfast in front of the queen and the royal family like that. Fantastic.

"Miss, you must go to your lesson," Elaine warned me before leaving.

"Lesson? Are we not supposed to have breakfast? ” I asked, starting to feel like my stomach was roaring under the tight corset of my cupcake dress.

"Before having breakfast in front of the royal family you must take an etiquette lesson." answered.

"They think we don't know how to eat? It can't be that different. Finally, it is the same process, you eat and drink. There is not much science. ”

"It is a requirement for all the selected ones," Elaine replied, trying not to get too agitated.

"So now I am that. One "selected". " I said, this time to myself. "Okay, I'll be down soon," I replied, a little more disappointed.

Going down that huge staircase I could see the other girls. All dressed in extremely precious dresses. Splendid walk. Perfect complexion. Hair like silk. And I, holding on tightly to the stair railing, afraid of losing my balance and hitting the living room on the floor. What a contrast.

I entered a large room, where tables were set up with their respective chairs. Several selected ones were already arranged in their places, so I looked for mine in that sea of ​​linen tablecloths and flowers with artificial smells.

Lady Andromeda

Thanks, mom and dad. They seriously couldn't choose another name.

I took a seat and turned the side of the card with my name face down. Then I smoothed down my dress and waited for something to happen, though I wasn't really sure what that would look like.

Finally, Princess Safiya entered the room and addressed us. She exuded airs of elegance and neatness. Almost like her brother but she seemed under control and ready to take charge of any situation.

"Good morning. I'm sure you're all ... eager to start seeing as you're meeting my brother shortly, so I'll try to keep this brief. ”

Eager? Really? Rather terrified of having to meet the prince. Oh, my God. Prince. Know him. Friend, if you want you can have me there all morning because we could say that the prince was not my favourite person in the royal family.

“Today I will begin to instruct you on conduct and protocol, a process that will continue for the duration of your stay. Please know that I will be reporting any missteps on your part to the royal family. ”

This was the most outrageous thing anyone could have said to me. Conduct and protocol? Who I am? A doll? What were the behaviour and protocol? To silence your mouth only and that everything is calm and courteous. Crap.

"I know it sounds harsh, but this isn't a game to be taken lightly. Someone in this room will be the next princess of Illéa. It is no small task. You must endeavour to elevate yourselves, no matter your previous station. You will become ladies from the ground up. And this very morning, you will receive your first lesson. ”

That was exasperating me, that situation they have to change their way of being because we do not consider it highly appropriate. She understood that they were the royal family but they were also ordinary humans. She didn't understand the need to be stiff and perfect all the time, much less at breakfast. It was quite a facade, because, let's be honest, who dresses like that to go to breakfast?

Suddenly, a very elegant brunette woman entered the room. It was Felicity Graham, the prince's ex-fiancée. She saw herself as a powerful woman, even on her own and without any ties to royalty or politics. She was the first person to impress me in the background since I got there.

He approached Princess Safiya and muttered something to her, and so they had an exchange of murmurs and increased the discomfort in the room by 87%.

Neither of us knew what was happening and I personally felt out of place and worse yet, too hungry to have a good attitude. We were there in front of them and they didn't even bother to make excuses.

I was about to get up and go get my well-deserved breakfast without any consideration of what might happen because I honestly didn't care. The faster I got out of there, the better. Safiya said something softly to Felicity but I didn't really bother to understand. Were they really taking away even more time?

“Table manners are very important, and before you can eat in front of the royal family, you must be aware of certain etiquette. The faster we get through this little lesson, the sooner you get to have your breakfasts, so faces forward, please. ”

Against my own will, I followed the instructions and continued the etiquette lesson, ridiculous as that sounds, albeit with some difficulty thanks to my dress. In the end, it was what was going to get me out of here and give me my breakfast without having to disrespect the princess in her face. Despite everything, I had always admired Princess Safiya for her tenacity and intelligence and she was frank, a quality that I will always respect people.

When mentioning the very retrograde etiquette instructions, there were one to two times that I almost laughed out loud. Not speak unless they spoke to us first? Really? She did not know that modernity and feminine emancipation had not reached the court of Illea. Even more so when our president was a woman like the queen.

"If you follow this one, I’ll be disappointed," Safiya added.

Well, one less person to disappoint, and at least the princess agrees with me on that ridiculous rule.

After something akin to a courtesy practice, although it seemed more like a classy torture session, and Princess Safiya completely reproved me with her eyes, we were free. My stomach at this moment was a huge furious mass and when my eyes looked at that oasis called buffet I swear that the angels sang. I'm not fully aware but I think I approached the buffet unusual and not very elegantly, filling my plate with delicacies.

I found my seat and got ready to ... eat. Actually, at first, it seemed like I was stuffed but I hadn't eaten anything since I woke up and that was going to be like two hours! But after the first three or four bites, I tried to keep my composure. Not because they had pointed it out to me but because I wanted to show them that we were perfectly fit people to eat without making a mess.

As soon as the guard who was going to escort me to that small room where the girls came and went came, my back stiffened. Usually, it was good under pressure and I wasn't nervous but this time we were talking about the prince, the actual price. I think the usual was not suitable for those occasions.

I got up from my chair with all the grace that can emanate and accompanied the guard to that little room. The first thing I glimpsed upon entering was the cameras. They were everywhere, pointing at different angles to a chair in the middle of everything. And there was Prince Arin waiting for me, standing a little too straight, a little too stiff, very rehearsed. I approached dubiously, looking back a moment but looking back at the prince, who gave me a small bow.

"Good morning, Lady ..." Her eyes searched for my little tag with my name on it. I guess learning 35 names overnight was difficult. "Andromeda." I almost winced when he said my name. Today had been a perfect day to call me Andromeda. "Please have a seat," he said as he gestured toward the sofa.

I did not know what to answer. My mind had gone blank. She only knew that she was in front of the prince, the heir of Illea. It was as if my conscious part had come out of my body and I was making a fool of myself. I bowed very badly and approached him. Safiya would certainly be disappointed in me, I thought.

"Hello! ... um... Good morning, Your Highness" I answered and took a seat on the sofa. "What the hell are you doing Andy? How old are you? Twelve? Act like a fully capable young lady and stop being silly. ” I said to myself as I tried to get comfortable on the sofa. Glancing back at Arin, I tried to smile slightly, concealing my disagreement.

He had settled next to me, turning his body so he could see me properly. There was something about his actions like they were too methodical and too rehearsed. He didn't seem like a natural person.

"How is your morning going?" he asked in a calm but neat tone of voice. How many times had she done this? He was probably not even paying attention anymore, just following a script and waiting for the morning to pass without any complications.

I, on the other hand, was a disaster. And the most irritating thing was that that wasn't me. I looked him in the eye and I got myself back together. "It's just someone else, there's no reason to be intimidated."

“Well let's say waking up inside a golden palace is a whole other way to start my morning, so pretty good so far. I must say, that breakfast of yours is going to spoil my appetite ”I said, while shaking my head, amused. I wasn't going to tell lies, that breakfast had been the best part of my morning.

He simply nodded and continued.

That’s good to hear. So you slept well then? ”

Again that studied tone. Breathe Although she wanted to explode, I continued the conversation, trying to cheer her up a bit. If he didn't want to have a good time, it was his problem.

"Like a dream, but you must know. I was a bit shocked at first when I got to my bedroom but then I calmed down. ” yes .. that little crisis.

"I'm glad to hear you were able to calm down." He looked for a moment at the cameras. Was that necessary? It was silly to ask, considering my experience with the bathroom that morning. "Which province are you from?"

I instinctively turned my gaze to the cameras for a second, uncomfortable with the situation. A mouse in a laboratory would have felt more comfortable than me. For a moment I felt my dress tighter, my hair straighter, my shoes smaller. I turned my gaze to Arin and replied. He continued to ask me questions and I answered them for a while. The weird thing was that he didn't comment on it like he wasn't even listening to me. I was trying to keep my composure but I was already exhausted. I wanted, first of all, to put on a good pair of pants and a shirt. Sleep all day and in the morning embark anywhere. Probably a remote island, accompanied only by Clifford and a coconut called René.

As the conversation progressed, I became more interested in it. A feeling of relief flooded my body and when I realized I was actually enjoying the conversation.

"It sounds like you enjoy it," he comments as he nods slightly.

"I do ... I think it’s a powerful way to tell the world’s history." I replied, a little excited.

"Do you plan on returning to journalism?"

"I have not abandoned journalism, it's just that I work for an NGO so that keeps me busy"

"What do you do there?"

"Well, I'm practically a wildcard. I've taught English and Maths to kids in Vietnam, I've helped to bring food to war-displaced communities, I've aided to build houses for a community made up of women, victims of family abuse, there's everything where you can help. "

Talking about my job was something I loved, but I didn't want to sound pretentious or anything like that, so I was glad when she continued to genuinely be interested in the conversation, or so it seemed.

He nodded, impressed and continued. That certainly sounds like a lot. I'm sure your family must be proud. ”

It was annoying that his only reaction to everything was to nod but he was so wrapped up in the conversation that I barely noticed. At the mention of my family, I gave a little laugh, funny.

Well, I don’t know. I'm sure my family thinks they contribute a lot to society as well. For my parents especially, it's just a complicated way to help when you can just donate a bunch of money and leave. ”

"Oh well, I'd be proud if I were them. It’s important to contribute to the ways you can. ”

"It is. It absolutely is. I believe that making change happen is the labour of everyone. Grain by grain great things can be built. ”

She nodded, again, and glanced at her watch, then turned to look at me.

"Thank you for speaking with me this morning, Lady Andromeda. It’s been a pleasure. ” She got up from the sofa, saying goodbye. "Please enjoy the rest of your stay."

"I'm sure that my stay he meant two hours while he finished with the rest of the girls," I thought.

But I tried to hide my true thoughts, so I got up and smiled confidently. Whatever happened, I think it would be fine.

“It has been surprisingly a pleasure. And please, call me Andy. My parents have been a little extra since ancient times. ” I joked, trying to make the stiff prince smile for the last time.

And fulfilling my goal, Arin smiled at me and nodded again. "This man and his head," I thought. But I did not care, I got him to show some emotion and that already progressed for me.

"Have a good rest of your morning, Andy."

-

“My parents thought so too but believe me, growing up as Andromeda was pretty tired. "I shrugged." Well, I don't believe so, for now, you are my only friend” me briefly, joking, as I usually did, about my name “the food here is the most heavenly thing ”

She was an extremely sweet and funny girl. I think it was a relief to be able to talk to someone without being afraid of being judged in the background, something very rare to find in the social circles that my parents made me frequent.

She giggled and answered “I can imagine. It's a beautiful name but it's pretty long and I'm assuming people have mispronounced it before? ” Her eyes lit up at the mention of our possible friendship ”That sounds like a deal. I'm your friend and you are mine. Don't take backs. ” And continuing with our conversation he added “It is pretty good. Where are you from? ”

“So many times! plus it is pretty weird so you can imagine ”I shrugged. "Sounds like a deal!" I told her and reached out my hand to close the deal, she took it, laughing, and we shook hands with each other but “From Zuni, originally. What about you? ”

"I kind of get your pain. Not many people know how to pronounce my last name. I'm from Whites! ”

"Well, I sure hope I'm pronouncing it correctly." I giggled a bit, something slightly unusual for me. "Oh! that's a great contrast ”I commented when listening to her native province.

"Don't worry, you're actually doing pretty good." She beamed and continued “It is! So what did you do before… ”she pointed around us, referring to La Selección“ all of this. ”

I smiled nostalgic, thinking about the life I had left behind. That life that had been built by me and only by me, and which was now thousands of miles from my reach.

“Well, I study journalism in Waverly and I work for an NGO, helping in poor communities. what about you? ”

“I have been volunteering in the orphanage here and there. I want to keep volunteering but the career I have makes it hard. ” she pouted a bit, making me smile. Sara was the sweetest person I’ve ever known. Usually, my friends and I expressed love with jokes and sarcasm, so hanging out with Sara was actually pretty recomforting. "I am a manager in my dad's business."

We talk about our jobs and our family. The more time passed, the more relaxed I felt, forgetting everything that had happened in the morning and feeling much more myself. Sara was a very sweet, interesting and impressive person. Being a manager in her father's store and volunteering. It is completely true that appearances are deceiving. At first glance, Sara seemed a very elegant but somewhat reserved person. Turned out to be funny and energetic. With airs of princess everywhere and kindness of heart, I was glad that there were girls with possibilities of winning, like Sara and genuinely began to root for her. We ended up talking about my family, especially my sister, Sierra. My sister was one of the people I missed the most and it had only been a day. We usually parted for months but we were a phone call away. This was completely different and he needed her more than ever.

"I'm lucky to have her. I believe that without her I wouldn't be here right now, ”I smiled wistfully, trying to control my tears instead. “Alright, so topic change because I don’t want to have mascara all over my face and make a fool of myself the first day, mmm what do you like to do outside work?”

Sara smiles and said “You really are the sweetest aren't you…” she gave me a sympathetic look and answered my question. Alright. We can definitely do that another day! ” * joked, making me smile and improve my spirits. "I? Well, I enjoy to read and write. Bullet journaling. Geocaching! I would love to travel more often. I love to learn more about different places. How about you? ”

"Count me in! crying out loud is one of my favourite things ever ”I commented sarcastically. “I have tried to do bullet journaling, trust me, it did not go well. But geocaching? what’s that? ” I've never heard of anything like that but I was truly curious "I LOVE-" had started screaming but then I remembered that morning's sermon and decided it was too early to start breaking the rules. "I love travelling!! it's my favourite thing to do in the whole world, I love to discover how diverse we can be in just one planet. I love photography as well, I have an album with all my trips, to see how a picture can tell a million words and a million emotions. ”

"I mean watching some sad movies can get you to cry out loud" Sara joked, continuing my joke. "Oh, I love it! Oh, geocaching is a bit of a weird hobby of mine. It's basically using GPS to find hidden treasures people have left behind. It's interesting for me. ” added with some regret. “I love travelling as well !! Are we possible soulmates? Long lost sisters? ” I smile with her eyes lit up. "Wow really? I would love to see it. Your album I mean. "

"Only if it's titanic" I joked. "But it sounds interesting like catching Pokémons or something like that, you have to invite me some time" I smiled, interested in my friend's hobby.

"I know! it's crazy!” I laughed and continued "where have you been?” And finally answered her request. “Well I could show it to you sometime, I secretly sneaked it in because my mother almost banned me from bringing it, ”I whispered.

"Obviously only titanic." she chuckled, joking. "It is! I have found several interesting things when I go geocaching. ” she grinned as I mentioned my interest in geocaching “Someday for sure!” she said, smiling widely. "It is! I hope to do that often. Travel I mean. I have been here and there but I barely had time to really immerse myself to each province. The farthest I've gone is New Asia. ” she leaned in when I started whispering “Oh really? I would love to see it. I'm glad you sneaked it in. ”

------

The sun had begun to set over the city of Angeles and a beautiful yellow light sheltered the city. The day that just passed had been, honestly, an emotional roller coaster. I had survived my first day of the Selection and I still hadn't made a complete fool of myself. I didn't know if I was going to be there in 24 hours or if this was only going to be a one-day vacation but at that point, it didn't matter anymore. Despite all my opinions regarding the Selection and what was happening, I was beginning to realize that not everything was completely bad and that in reality if I could not change the course of the river, I could at least travel with the current. I was afraid that maybe I would lose myself in the process for, apparently, it was something I couldn't control. The only thing I could do was make sure that day after day when I looked in the mirror, I kept seeing the same girl who wanted to contribute to the change. No matter what happened.

[metalgearkong]

The Last of Us Part II - Review (PS4)

8/14/20 ***SPOILERS***

Developed by Naughty Dog, released June 19th, 2020

The Last of Us was a game I wasn’t originally a huge fan of when it came out in 2013. Despite it receiving astronomical praise by fans and critics, it took me a couple times completing the game before I fell in love with it. What truly made The Last of Us special was not necessarily its concept or gameplay, but its storytelling and characters. The depth of the interpersonal drama and raw emotion on screen was the true core of the game, with the stealth-action, zombies, and other aspects more like icing on the cake. The Last of Us ended up being one of my favorite games of all time strictly based on execution, even if the game as a whole still isn’t perfect. 

The Last of Us Part II was my most highly anticipated game of 2020, and it feels strange to be on the other side of it finally. This game has been polarizing for fans, and as it turns out, I feel conflicted on the game as well. I finished it a month or so ago, but only now getting my thoughts written out. While some aspects are daring, jaw dropping, and gorgeous, other aspects detract from what is an unexpected story not quite living up to its potential. I respect this game more than I love it, and while I do think critics have been too kind in review scores, the exceptionally low user reviews have been far more incorrect. This is a solid, epic, deep, beautiful, emotional campaign which will deliver its money’s worth, but many contentious points will dictate how much you enjoy this blockbuster of a video game.

One of the aspects I like the most about this game is how similar the gameplay is to the original. Many people I suppose would want more change or innovation in the 7 years since The Last of Us, but personally I’ve always been a fan of sequels that retain what I like about a series. If it changes too much, it becomes too detached from what I enjoyed or got used to. Changes Part II makes are subtle, but natural for the genre and world. The player can duck and go prone in waist-high grass to conceal themselves, a dodge button has also been added, and a huge addition to combat and stealth is the addition of attack dogs who patrol with their owners. Dogs can pick up your scent until you distract it, adding to a lot of tension anytime enemy K9s are around. And yes, I found it difficult to shoot the first couple of dogs I encountered as they yelp out in pain when they get hurt or die.

Part II picks up I believe 5 years after the original. Ellie and Joel live in Jackson, the town they town the become a part of at the end of The Last of Us, and seem to be thriving in a community with food, power, and systems in place for relative safety from the outside world. The story is told in a much more chopped up chronology which I found to be detrimental to the pacing. The first game had a straightforward narrative and it worked very well, and this game has to dice up its story to make it seem more complex, but just comes off as pretentious. For example, by the end of the prologue (about a hour and a half) you play as three different characters. This leads into the strange structure of this game’s story, aside from having the linearity chopped up at times. 

The most controversial moment of the game is the moment of Joel’s death and how it occurred. While this event was not unexpected for myself and others, the manner of which he died is what’s justifiably pissing people off. A brand new character is introduced named Abby (and one of the three characters we briefly play as shortly before) and without any background or indication of who she is, brutally tortures and executes Joel in front of Ellie’s eyes. It’s not difficult to see director Neil Druckmann cackling with satisfaction of his subversion of expectations. It’s simply toying with the emotions of fans, and he has to expect and stand by any criticism he’s gotten for how this scene went down. However, this moment does make more sense as the story unfolds, but its no less a heavy handed and manipulative move for the sake of auteur video game storytelling.

Ever since I witnessed the brutal death of one of my favorite video game characters of all time, my only though was “they better justify this.” It was never “this is horrible and irredeemable, and “Naughty Dog is off its rocker,” like many people seem to have reacted. It was gut wrenching, but I knew Naughty Dog has a pension for organic characters, and in the back of my mind I knew I had to give this game its fair shot, and see if and/or how Naughty Dog justified a scene liable to piss off virtually every single fan of the original game. This is a poor spot of the game, but the structure of the game itself is, for me, the biggest issue of Part II. In the end, I don’t mind Joel’s death as much seeing the context surrounding it, although it still should have been handled entirely differently. 

Neil Druckmann proudly pulls a Metal Gear Solid 2 move, and entirely switches protagonists for a huge portion of the game (about 45%). Abby turns out to be the main character once the halfway point of the game hits. Following Joel’s death is about 9-11 hours playing as Ellie on her revenge quest to find Abby and kill her. The motivation is justified, being in the room with Ellie as she watched her father figure die in agony in front of her. Ellie’s portion of the campaign makes sense, Abby’s makes less. The structure of the story comes to a high point mid way through, where Abby and Ellie finally meet to clash. After all this build up, and around the same time of the game where the first game had its conclusion, everything halts and resets. 

We are suddenly dropped into the Abby story, showing her side of things, and why she would want to kill Joel. I do think the story directly surrounding her motivation is well done, but the problem is, a large portion of Abby’s story has literally nothing to do with Joel or Ellie. We effectively see why Abby would want revenge on Joel, but then we have to tag along on a major side journey while Abby helps a trans kid and his sister escape the cult they grew up in. I get that it helps develop more empathy for Abby as a character, but Abby’s story should have been at least cut in half to keep the overall story more focused and flowing. Many times while deep into Abby’s story I honestly forgot what the point of what I was doing is, and was getting confused on which events had happened and which hadn’t. 

Abby herself is a good character, and after all has been said and done, she is the third best character in this series so far. It’s a shame though that so much of her story is a direct waste of time, despite more of an excuse for more of the same great gameplay and set-piece moments. Empathy and perspective are the two big themes of this game. The best thing I can say about Part II is it convinced me of something I thought was near inconvincible: it made me like and root for Abby after the scene of Joel’s death. However, while the theme of the game is “all of your enemies have their own backstory,” Par II doesn’t teach us anything new whatsoever. Abby’s father was the surgeon Joel killed upon saving Ellie from the Fireflies at the climax of Part I. But Joel (and Ellie) killed a lot of random enemies in the first game, most of them players won’t even remember specifically. 

The fact that we have an entire video game showing us the perspective of one single person who wants revenge on Joel is a story that doesn’t need to be told. Any NPC we killed in the first game had family or friends who would also want revenge on Joel as well. We don’t learn anything new. This whole series is just marauder against marauder. Joel has never been a good guy, and that’s never been a secret. Joel is shown as an anti-hero even before the conclusion of the first game. It’s partially what makes him such a cool character. We only rooted for Joel because we were seeing things from his perspective. If the first game was entirely about Abby and Joel was framed as the bad guy, the results would have been the same: Abby would be our point-of-view “hero” character, while Joel was clearly the villain. Part II is not the epiphany Neil Drukmann likely wanted his audience to experience.

As anyone can see, the graphics and performances of Part II are incredible. While the story and structure are nothing too special (because it ruins its great moments by long drawn out heavy handed moments), at least the game itself is engaging to play and is gorgeous to look at. Growing up in the Pacific Northwest myself, and the game mainly taking place in Seattle, I enjoyed being totally waterlogged throughout the entire experience. If the story isn’t depressing enough on its own, the weather will certainly get to you. The core characters themselves are portrayed extremely well via motion capture and voice acting as well. I’m wondering why Neil Druckmann didn’t just make a Netflix series beings he is clearly so focused on the character’s interpersonal relationships. This is especially true for Joel and Ellie once again. Side characters are well acted, but have less of an effect on the core story, which is a huge tragedy when so much effort was clearly put into bringing them to life.

There’s no doubt Naughty Dog accomplished their specific goal in making you as depressed as possible. To be honest, it reminded me of some of my favorite books about stories of conflicting emotions and ending on depressing notes. Even though Part II is far from perfect, it’s still a juggernaut of a single-player game with amazing graphics, acting, responsive gameplay. I like the ways it proved me wrong on stuff I thought was unchangeable, and for that, it has my deep respect. It may not be for everyone, not even fans of the first, but if you come at it with an honest open mind and let yourself drop your ego enough to take in this entire story, I think it’s a daring piece of media that might age very well in time.

7/10

[esthernight]

The movie I hate the most: Mean Girls 2

So recently someone asked me, “What is a movie you actually hate?”

My first thought was, there aren’t movies I could say I hated. Sure there are movies I don’t really like but hate would be a strong word. But now that I’ve had some time to steam, I have realized that there is a film that I do hate with a passion. That I feel fails on every level and has the nerve to call itself a sequel to one of the most popular comedies my generation. It is a worst sequel and a worst movie than Batman and Robin.

It is the monstrosity that is Mean Girls 2. Yes, get there is a Mean Girls 2.

Mean Girls is one of my favorite movies and I will defend it to my last breath. As a child, I was entertained by it. As a teenager, I finally understood it. And as an adult, I appreciate it.

Is it perfect? No, but Mean Girls still a beloved comedy that transcends the chick flick. I have met older men, who don’t have nostalgia tied to it, who can at least appreciate Mean Girls as a well written and well-made film. Paramount and Mark Waters put time and effort into it. They didn’t treat it as a cheap teen girl movie. Unlike Mean Girls 2, who talks down to its audience, while saying that it’s “edgy”.

And no this was not written by Tiny Frey. Not directed by Mark Waters. Not produced by Lorne Michaels. None of the original actors...except for Tim Meadows, who was written really creepy in this one.

Mean Girls 2 was produced by Paramount Famous and distributed by Paramount home as a direct to DVD movie.

Now I don’t just hate this movie JUST BECAUSE it’s a squeal. I hate it because it's terrible. The acting is pretty bad. The cinematography goes from boring to bad. The dialogue is dull and the plot seems to be a mashup of high school plot lines.

What is the story?

Jo is a new student at North Shore High. She wears black and takes Woodshop so she’s “not like other girls”. The same actress played the mean girl in the Camp Rock movies and she was actually better in that role. She sucks in this.

Jo is eventually hired to be friends with Abby, who is played by Harper from Wizards of Waverly Place. I actually like this actress and this character had potential. Abby is shy, dorky, has ambitions but has such low self-esteem that she doesn’t stand up for herself. Her family is super-rich yet she is still the one who is bullied by the Plastics. For stupid reasons.

The Plastics in this movie, actually wear plastic jewelry. I think the wardrobe department was ran by a 10-year-old who thought this was what “big girls” wore. The lead plastic, Mandy, is played by the girl from Cory in the House.

No this is not a Disney Channel movie.

Jo, who is so on your face about “not being like other girls” that it is pretentious and annoying, is getting thousands of dollars to be Abby’s best friend and starts dating Mandy’s brother.

Mandy does all these stupid things to sabotage Jo including this thing where she “exposes” her for being a virgin and people laugh at her...okay? Mandy overhears that she is being hired by Abby's friend....because Abby’s dad says rather loudly, “I hired you to be her friend.”

Of course, Mandy reveals it...in the school newspaper? 🤨 Abby is understandably mad but five minutes later they make up. Together they form the “anti-plastics” so they wear black and fake high lights because they’re “edgy”.

Then Mandy steals money for the homecoming dance and plants it in Jo’s shed. So Jo challenges her to a flag football game...because that’s how crime works? Mandy loses the game and gets ARRESTED. They throw in a school dance so that Jo and her boyfriend can have a makeup scene. Jo wins and Mandy loses, happy ending.

Yea, l know Mean Girls “wouldn't happen in real life” either, but the characters felt more real. Yea they were stereotypes but there was good and bad in each one of them. And they had arcs. In the end, Regina changes, finding a new identity and no longer feels the need to tear people down. Cady realizes that she can get caught up in popularity and easily turn mean and then works to be a better person. Both of them are human after all.

The characters in Mean Girls 2 are characterizations of stereotypes of how people think teenagers act with this black and white view of good and bad.

This truly is not just a pointless sequel but actually does disgrace the name that is Mean Girls.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[archiveddvrpg]

Congratulations, GREY! You’ve been accepted for the role of EDMUND with a faceclaim change to Daniel Sharman. Admin Rosey: “You are born unwanted, unloved and you have never worked out, not once, why you were kept; why your mother carried you, grew you, bore you just to immediately hand you off to a father for whom you were little more than a curse.“ Never before have I witnessed something so potently Edmund from the first. You bring a vitality and earnestness to him that makes him so incredibly endearing, even though there’s always that hint of the monster that lies beneath. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Grey

Age | 32

Preferred Pronouns | She/Her

Activity Level | Currently I’m off work on extended medical leave (unknown end date), so mostly don’t have any major claims on my time and should be able to be around most days. With that said, medical issues and meds will crop up from time to time however I believe things have settled down enough to allow me to return to the rp.

Timezone | Sydney AEST (GMT+10)

How did you find the rp?  | Blame Rogue. Always.

Current/Past RP Accounts | I briefly played Benvolio here last year until health issues got in the way!

IN CHARACTER

Character | Edmund/Easton Craven.

Easton - You have to wonder, don’t you, what they thought when they picked your name. Easton. Town in the East. A name basically devoid of meaning, of hope for what you’d grow into. They didn’t wish you valor or prosperity or happiness or any of a hundred actual meanings, oh no - that all goes to your brother the brave boar. Of course it does – you were never wanted, so why should they want anything for you?

Craven - Oh, you know it’s origins in the Gaelic Ó Crabháin (Son of Crabháin) , or perhaps the far less noble Welsh Craf (garlic) but you can’t but help take a certain vicious, raw and ironic pleasure in the fact that it’s co-incidentally also a synonym of coward. In your mind you hiss it, hurl it at the portrait of your father – but all that escapes your tight throat is a quiet whisper, with a tinge of longing for the way the name sits so tidily on Gabriel and Everett’s shoulders ( but then, it was never made for you ).

Edmund - This name fits far easier on your brow than the two before – but then, this one was chosen with you in mind. This one you have earned with blood and pain, whatever cost they asked was met to carve out this space, this place where you belong. Rich Protection is what you are now, guarding the Capulets with whispers, with secrets, with blood and bullets.

(I’d like to request a face claim change to Daniel Sharman if I could!)

What drew you to this character? |

You are born unwanted, unloved and you have never worked out, not once, why you were kept; why your mother carried you, grew you, bore you just to immediately hand you off to a father for whom you were little more than a curse. He keeps you out of the same twisted sense of honour that your very existence besmirches –  does that “honour” do anything except ruin lives?

So much pain caused for one man’s already shredded virtue. In taking you in, Gabriel put his own selfishness above his family a second time – his play at penance means more to him than the hurt it costs his wife, the happy life you might have led if he had simply allowed you to be adopted by another family who actually wanted you. But then, how could he pat himself on the back about having done the right thing? In birth, you have learned a lesson you will not understand until you are grown – honour is simply a pretentious word for hubris.

( You are never wanted, never fitting; a jigsaw piece mixed into the wrong puzzle. )

You grow up chasing scraps of approval and warmth the way a donkey chases a carrot on a stick – in your mind, always close enough to grasp in another step and in reality always out of reach. Time and time again you take your pictures, your books, the homework your tutor praised to him and are met each time with the closed door of his study. Sometimes, if you wait long enough ( back aching from the perfect posture your father demands of you ) he will glance at one briefly, and you feel the warmth of the sun on your face, but it is quickly chased away by the cloud of criticisms that invariably follow. Each time you swear to yourself that next time your father will smile and tell you you have done well, and each time you return as empty handed as the last.

Your step-mother is never cruel, only distant and cold, but you are too young to understand the difference, to see that she walls herself off from you only to protect herself from what you represent ( and later, you will see it, the way they all protected themselves without worrying about protecting you and you will learn it well and hard that people look out only for themselves ). You are four when you call her ‘Mama’ for the first time, crying over your grazed knee, and her sweeping exit from the room is perhaps the clearest of your young memories, the words ‘Non sono tua madre’ falling dead and flat over her shoulder as she goes.

( You have been cold for so long that you start to think that even the slightest warmth might burn you to ash. )

Want curdles into bitter envy in your stomach as you realise what bastardo truly means: that the light that shines so brightly upon your brother will never fall upon you. That nothing you ever do will be enough to remove the bloody stain of your birth from the spotless white carpet of the Craven family. The acidic green bile burns through you, a sharp chemical taste in your mouth for years as it hollows you out, echoing caverns of craving in its wake until you think if you don’t have something then your very foundations will crumble into nothing.

Just when you think the last of your supports is washing away with the caustic tide you find something new to fill you to the brim. Liquid molten rage cascades into those raw-cut caverns, tumbling flames through your veins that leave scorch marks on your heart and fill your lungs with choking smoke. At first it’s all-consuming, over-whelming, an inferno that threatens to devour you in its intensity and you lash it out at everything around you; venting the hurt and pain of it at anything within reach. In time you manage to leash it, harnessing the Pyrrhic power of it to your own ends, channelling it in your own directions until you forget what it’s like to not be scalded and scorched from within, until you forget that fire is never meant to be played with.

( You set yourself alight to stop anyone else from striking the match and laugh as your victory pyre consumes you. )

Tl;dr: Fucked up, messed up boys are my brand yo.

( I feel I can pretty much perfectly encapsulate what cleaved my attention so firmly to Easton with that one time where my character inspo boards led pinterest support to send me a concerned email asking if I was okay.)

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

Obviously these are all contingent on the plot, other writers agreement etc etc, and are just ideas.

i. you were destined for the glory / the honor and the fame. / i was destined for the bullet / to be the gun with no name.

Everett has everything Easton has ever wanted, from parents who care to wealth to power to a circle of friends he can fall back on. He has everything that should of been Easton’s, if only Easton had had the sheer luck to have been born to the right woman. Easton never had a chance to shine as he should, buried since birth in his older brother’s darkest shadow, and now he’s clambering for the sun.

It’s the oldest tale in the world, this Cain and Abel fable, and yet Easton seems to be the only one who knows which page they’re on. Everett extends his hand and as much as the elemental fury inside wants to slap it away ( as much as some buried corner of his soul cries out to grasp it in earnest ), Easton rests his palm reluctantly in his brothers for now – after all, how much easier to put a knife in the back of someone who has invited you inside their guard?

ii. the moral of the story is / i will gut you if i need to. / i will carve my way out / with only my teeth.

It’s not that Easton isn’t loyal – in his own way he’s unswervingly loyal to the Capulets. Would he kill for them? Without blinking an eye. Would he die for them, on the other hand? And yet in many ways he defines himself more as Capulet than he does Craven; this allegiance, this new family that he has chosen for himself. When it comes to alternate allegiances, there are none he would so much as waver from the Capulets for; he has chosen the best player in the game and for now he’s content to ride their rise.

The problem is that, at the end of the day, Easton craves power and he craves control and the freedom that he believes comes with being at the top of the pyramid. He doesn’t see the chains that come with it, that bind Rafaella, Tiberius and Juliana with duty; only the way people jump to their words, scrape bows in their direction. And the Capulets may be a metaphorical extended family but at the same time they’re also, at their core, a very specific blood family and he can see the ceiling above him that his half-blooded Craven name will never let him rise past. Even the most loyal dog can bite and one day the Capulets may find that the dog they thought trained is actually a wolf - and that when you unleash a dog on your enemies it’s not always willing to be re-collared.

iii. when you are not fed love / on a silver spoon / you learn to / lick it off knives.

Affection is a difficult concept for someone who’s experienced so little of it in his life. On the one hand, he hungers for it; a deep insatiable need for the way his father’s hand rests proudly on Everett’s shoulder, the way Margherita had looked at her son, for soft hands to stroke his brow when he’s sick or a shoulder at the end of the day. But those are things for people who are worthwhile, who matter, and if Easton’s life has taught him anything it’s that he is deserving of nothing ( as much as he tries to yell into that void that he is deserving of everything ).

On the other, he approaches affection with the same wary fear as a dog that’s been kicked a time too many; to feel affection for something is to expose a vulnerable point to his enemies, a weakness for them to exploit – to say nothing of the self-destruct code he would hand to object of said affection, that he may as well be baring his throat to their blade when they inevitably realise how unworthy he is.

And so he tries to lock it away, snaps and bites at anyone who gets too close to keep a clear arms length around himself, and allows the loneliness to eat at him unabated.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Absolutely! I live and breathe for angst so as long as it comes at a time that makes me and everyone else bawl about it, go for it!

IN DEPTH

January 2012 (19 years old) Munich

Easton wonders what he’d expected, all those times he’d typed her name into google, deleted it and re-typed it a few days later. Whatever dream had prompted him to finally follow through, whatever holes he might have hoped to fill, he’d known it was a mistake the moment he’d stepped out of the airport.

Now, seated in this bright, cheerful kitchen, he’s sure of it.

“ So you’re him then. The child. ” Her hand closes for a moment around the golden cross that hangs around her neck, knuckles whitening for a moment as though gripping it tighter might ward off his presence here, in her life.  How many rosaries had she said to absolve herself of his birth, to absolve herself of him? ( And he knows that they both know it will never be enough. )

Her throat bobs for a moment as she swallows. “ You have his eyes. ”

His jaw clenches a little at the reminder, at the way she’s already dissociating herself from him, abstaining any responsibility. Not my, but the. As if she’d had nothing to do with it. With him.

“ Yeah. ” The silence thickens for a moment, suffocating the room until he can almost feel it straining his lungs. “ You’re her then. you’re… ” What? My mother? Gabriel’s ex-whore? The one who abandoned me?

He’d always assumed he must look like his mother; the only comments he ever got about Gabriel were his eyes. But at this moment, the most familiar thing about her face is the same closed, guarded expression that Margherita and his father had always worn when they looked at him.

“ They told me you were dead. ”

Ingrid nods, as though she’d expected as much. and her eyes flick to the clock on the wall behind him. Past her, on the door of the fridge, he can see the bright primary colours of a child’s painting, photos of her with a man and three small children, and for a minute it’s a kick in the gut that he struggles to draw breath past. In Verona he’s nothing but the one who destroyed a family and here he’s just the ticking time bomb waiting to do it again.

He stands abruptly, the chair clattering back loudly against the tiles. “ This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come. ” His fists clench at his sides, nails digging into his palms to counteract the ringing rush of hurt and anger. “ Sorry. ”

“ Easton. ” It’s the first time she’s called him by name, and he stutters in place, nails digging harder into his palms. “ I assume you want answers and I suppose - ” She won’t meet his eyes. “ - I suppose I owe you that much. ”  

EXTRAS

Headcanons:

- Easton secretly likes to paint, and its one of the few things he has that provides him a sense of peace. Still, it feels like a vulnerability, a crack in his armour, and he guards the knowledge of it fiercely and warily, trusting it to no one. He scrubs his skin almost raw after each session, getting off every trace of oils that he can, because it’s far far easier and safer to explain blood in his knuckles or under his nails than paint. It’s so ingrained that the scouring ritual is almost a vital part of the process, a cleansing of more than just the paint. The vast majority of his paintings end up destroyed upon creation, because for all the peace he manages to find in creating them, when they’re finished he sees nothing but the flaws picked out in Gabriel’s voice.

- Pinterest Board

[blackarmyslave]

Masquerade [IkeRev]

Pairing: Ray Blackwell x Alice

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution

Notes: really trashy writing oof

Pshh dont act so suprised its another ray thing

Alice hated masquerade balls.

She hated them with a passion. There was just something irritating about them... how those disgustings pigs, commonly referred to as men, often tried to lure her into bed; or how, every time she talked to women, their conversations would almost always end up in gossips about her family's riches that were acquired with bloody hands, and how they killed countless people under a single man's orders, not knowing the person they were talking to about it is part of said family. Yet despite her loathing for occasions like these, Alice would still have to attend, for it was the only way she could fraternize with others. Her family was shunned by society for being such a hideous and brutal one. But here, in masquerade balls, she can wear a mask and pretend to be someone else and mingle to her heart's content. Nobody would know it was a girl from a bloody household.

Once or twice, Alice had danced with a few nobilities she considered decent enough for her. Those who weren't pedophiles, she conversed with. Those who were purely sober, she'd bonded with. But it was way past midnight now and she had gotten bored of the ball. A woman can only take so much soulless dancing and meaningless political talks. Not to mention the rough mask that hid her face from bashers, was starting to irritate her sensitive porcelain skin.

With a forced smile, the young descendant of the country's most infamous household excused herself from the festivities and went to the garden. Truly, it was a beautiful garden. The flowers were in full bloom and the breeze was refreshing. Alice stretched, in a way that was very undignified. Yet she couldn't care less. Her muscles were sore from keeping up a flawlessly upright posture all this time, and she was bored beyond measure.

The itch on her face that was long there reached its peak, and Alice couldn't take it anymore. She moved to dispose her mask until a voice warned her, "It's rude to take off your mask in a ball like this."

It was a man's voice, smooth like the waves and light as the garden's breeze. Undoubtedly, it had belonged to a young man... a cool young man. But Alice despised people who dared talk to her so fondly. She swirled around to reprimand whoever it had been.

"I don't recall holding responsibility to oblige," she retorted, her prissy tone leaking with every syllable. One corner of the man's lips slowly curled upwards in an amused smirk.

"Then by all means, go embarrass yourself."

Alice scoffed with irritation. Who does this man think he is? Yes, it's true that taking off your mask is a big no in a masquerade ball, but--

Oh.

She suddenly felt like smacking her forehead. If she takes the accessory off, she's to reveal her identity. And no doubt receive countless ridicules. And Alice didn't want that, especially from a man like him. Her cheeks flushed in realization. Suddenly the girl wanted to keep it on and couldn't feel the itch anymore.

"You're from the infamous Bright household, aren't you? Alice Bright, if I'm correct; twin sister of Edgar Bright, the Jack of Hearts and known as the Gentle Demon." surprise mf

Alice took her time studying the man. How had he known about her? What gave it away? What had she done to inform him of her identity? Most of all, who is this bastard? He was handsome, without a doubt, even with a mask on; black hair and intense emerald eyes, containing a youthful aura, but at the same time holding himself with such composed regality. His body was carved to perfection. He wore a simple yet dazzling dark sapphire mask with round diamonds literring it, the suit on his body looking ridiculously expensive.

Dark and regal... only one name clicked in the girl's head: the popular and widely loved King of Spades.

"I take it you're King Ray Blackwell...?"

The man rolled his eyes distastefully at the attached title. But he made no move to deny his identity, something that's against tradition. 'How hypocritical,' Alice thought dryly.

"Forget the King part, it's too preppy for my tastes," he said. "Just Ray is fine."

Alice rose a thin eyebrow. For a king, Ray Blackwell was too casual. She's always depicted him as cold and dignified, with no intention of fooling around; just like the opposing King of Hearts. Yet here he was: the Black King himself who didn't give a horse's muck whether people found out about his identity or not, speaking informally as if he'd known Alice all their lives.

'Charming-- I mean, preposterous! Ghastly!'

Well... what can she say? It's her first time meeting a man like Ray; someone true to himself and didn't stumble foolishly in a vain attempt of becoming the perfect gentleman.

But no. In the Bright household, emotions were a mortal sin. It was the biggest crime. And Alice grew up all her life believing it.

Naturally, she ignored her fluttering heart.

"So," Alice walked around the garden with Ray. She hadn't even noticed how her irritation with him had suddenly faded after witnessing his genuine personality. "The King of Spades is a fan of balls, then?"

Ray snorted. "Heck no. What makes you think that just because I attend 'em, I like 'em? Isn't everyone only here for the sake of making connections?"

"Probably." Alice would be damned if she voiced her agreement. "And does that rule apply to you as well, sire?"

Ray gave the girl a disgusted look. She only blinked, urging him to voice out what took him aback.

"Okay. One, it doesn't. I'm just here to let loose for a bit. Second... Cut that formality out! It's creepy." "Why so? Do your soldiers not address you that way?"

Ray's green orbs took on a fond light, giving Alice the answer right away, as if his memories of his subordinates were all warm and cozy. One could tell he was a good leader and a true king by just a glance of that. And maybe, she thought, he was a brother, too; a brother to the rest of his army. Alice wondered how they treated each other... did they eat at the same table? Did they disregard ranks and fraternized comfortably? Was it like a home in the Black Army's headquarters?

"They address me as a king during official business, yes," he replied. "But we're just ourselves around one another for most of the time. Parties every week or so, lots of laughter and pranks... it's like a brotherhood."

The faintest trace of a smile ghosted the girl's lips. "It sounds lovely."

From there, it went on and on. Ray asked Alice what was her favorite animal, to which she replied cats for they were elegant and had the cutest little mewls; and much to her surprise, Ray shared her thoughts. She, in return, asked him what he thought about table etiquette, and he laughed at just how preppy Alice was being. Nevertheless, he answered her, saying "I think dining fancily's fine if serious stuff are going on, like funerals or oathtakings. It's a way of showing respect. But people shouldn't be judged by how they act at the table. In fact, class shouldn't even be a social judgement or something. 'Course, this is just my opinion. And I think table manners should be kept to a minimum. People deserve to enjoy their food and time without fear of being critiqued of how classy or polite they are. They should be able to be just themselves in a table, because after all, that honesty's bound to form really tight relationships real quick, no?"

A bit more of talking and before she even knew it, it had been past 3AM now. Alice never thought it would be so fun to converse with the king. He was honest and frank, yet still respectful and even funny. They shared a lot of opinions about several topics, and one's answer changed the perspective of the other. The Bright lady wished to the twinkling stars high above she'd get another chance at talking with Ray in the future.

Now, Alice knew she shouldn't be rooting for the opposition. Her household is a Red through and through. In fact, her brother's the Jack of Hearts himself! At the back of her head, the ever-obedient little prodigy of the Bright family screamed at her to get away and cut off all connections with Blackwell. 'What do you think you're doing?!' a part of her screeched.

But right now, she wasn't really a Bright. She was just Alice. Little ol' Alice, who came to a masquerade ball in hopes of being able to talk to whoever she wants without her status bothering her. And she wasn't ready to throw that away just yet, and return to her uptight lifestyle.

'Just not yet, please,' she pleaded with her own self.

Suddenly, a slow, hopeful, smooth tune took on. It was faint and distant, coming from the ballroom many yards away. Yet she and Ray both heard it, the melody carried by the wind to their ears, and Ray took the cue.

"May I have this dance, Alice?" He asked her, the gentlest, most handsome smile on his lips, offering her his hand, and the girl's heart skipped a beat.

Had it been any other man; a pretentious, try-hard fake gentleman or a drunk bastard, she would've slapped. But no... not this one. He was a bastard, yes, the feisty part of her claimed, but he was a good bastard. A modest, decent, alright bastard.

Alice let her face be lit up by a grin. It had been her first in so long. She placed her hand on top Ray's and they both started dancing to the slow, almost-romantic music, everything else fading and all they could feel was this blossoming warmth in their souls.

And long after the song was over, and all was said and done, they still remained in one another's embrace. Red and Black forgetting their blazing feud for even just a moment; even in just a masquerade ball. They're just Alice and Ray, each silently praying dawn never comes and they'd never have to say theeir goodbyes.

Alice giggled under her breath. She'd decided. Maybe masquerades aren't so bad after all.

[illusionfm-blog]

*    𝖘𝖚𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌  ,  chapter  ii  :  the  second  part  ft  .  emerson  hemmingway  ,  ya  favorite  fake  ass  !  intelligent  n  powerful  ,  no  nonsense  ,  problem  child  but  aint  nobody  gotta  b  knowin  that  bc  she  won’t  make  it  known  .  she’s  playing  some  dangerous  games  but  that  big  head  of  hers  is  convinced  she’s  not  abt  to  get  caught  and  lowkey  ?  if  anyone  can  pull  it  off  ,  it’d  be  her  !  

⋆    ╰    another     year     at     hollingsworth     ,  another     year     of     the  big     six rivalry     .     i     hear     that  EMERSON    HEMMINGWAY     is     ensuring  CHI    MU    OMEGA     gets     a     solid     pledge     class     and     stays     at     the     top     of     the     ranks     .  oh     ,     you’re     not     familiar     with  HER  ?  EM     is     the  TAYLOR    HILL     look     alike     from  CHICAGO    ,    ILLINOIS     .     a    part     of     PC  ‘16     ,  she  is     majoring     in  PRE-MEDICAL    BIOCHEMISTRY        and     has     plans     to  PURSUE    MEDICAL    SCHOOL    AND    HER    LIFELONG    AMBITION    OF    BECOMING    A    SURGEON     after     undergrad     .     it     makes     sense     they     pledged     their     house     ,     their  FERVID     &  ERUDITE     attributes     make     them     perfect     matches     .     however     ,     their  MENDACIOUS     &  UNRELENTING     attributes     keep     their     name     alive     on  greek     rank     .     if     you     don’t     catch     them     dancing     to  RHIANNON    -    FLEETWOOD    MAC     at     a     fraternity     band     party     this     year     ,     you’ll     be     sure     to     catch     them     nursing     their     morning     hangover     at  THE    CHI    O    HOUSE    .  cheers     to     another     wild     semester    !

tw  :  mentions  of  drug  use  ,  mental  illness

⋆  ╰    𝑺  𝑻  𝑨  𝑻  𝑰  𝑺  𝑻  𝑰  𝑪  𝑺   .

𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍    𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 :     emerson  elaine  hemmingway  (  formerly  katsopoulous  ) 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬     :    em  ,  emmy  ,  ems 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆    /    𝒂𝒈𝒆 :    august  12    ,    twenty  -  one 𝒛𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒄     :    leo 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓    𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒚    /    𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒔     :     cisfemale    identifying    with    she  /  her    /    hers  pronouns 𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏     :     openly    bisexual    and    biromantic  ,  no  preference 𝒐𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏    :    pre-medical  biochemistry  major    at    hu  ,  forward  for  the  hu  women’s  ice  hockey  team  ,  academic  success  center  advisor  &  personal  tutor  ,  personal  trainer  ,  aspiring  surgeon 𝒉𝒐𝒈𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔    𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆    :    slytherin 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏    𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅    𝒃𝒚     :     fiona  &  lip  gallagher    from  shameless  ,  debbie  ocean  from  oceans  8  ,  spencer  hastings  from  pll  ,  princess  bubblegum  &  marceline  from  adventure  time  ,  natasha  romanoff    &  carol  danvers  from  the  mcu  ,    meredith  grey  &  alex  karev  from  grey’s  anatomy 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒔    :         -    distant  ,  mendacious  ,  unrelenting  ,  severe  ,  obsessive  ,  easily  goaded  ,  defensive  ,  pessimistic  .

+        fevrent  ,  erudite  ,  observant  ,  level-headed  ,  astute  ,  perceptive  ,  polished  ,  ambitious  ,  capable  .

⋆  ╰      𝑨  𝑵  𝑻  𝑬  𝑪  𝑬  𝑫  𝑬  𝑵  𝑻 .

more  bullet  points  ,  for  the  𝖜𝖎𝖓

emerson  elaine  katsopoulous  comes  into  the  world  on  an  uncharacteristically  warm  chicago  night  ,  testing  positive  for  opioids  ,  a  father  who’s  already  forgotten  her  mother’s  name  as  he  rots  in  a  prison  cell  ,  and  no  reason  for  anyone  to  believe  she’d  ever  amount  to  anything  .

custody  is  awarded  to  her  grandpa  ,  christos  ,  and  pretty  much  the  only  family  she’s  ever  known  becomes  the  ratty  neighborhood  she  grows  up  spending  her  evenings  in  .  christos  surviving  on  disability  and  doing  odd  construction  jobs  here  and  there  under  the  table  for  some  spare  spending  money  ,  emerson  spends  most  of  her  days  under  the  supervision  of  the  dysfunctional  families  in  her  neighborhood  ,  all  fucked  up  in  their  own  ways  but  doing  their  absolute  best  .  she’s  reading  the  label  of  the  cigarette  boxes  she  plays  with  as  toy  cars  by  the  age  of  3  ,  chatty  and  curious  ,  always  inquiring  why  the  man  in  the  street  is  laying  there  with  a  spoon  in  his  hand  or  why  the  ladies  on  the  corner  at  night  are  “  dressed  like  its  warm  when  it’s  really  really  cold  outside  ”

christos  enforces  a  strict  no-visitation  policy  for  emerson’s  mom  and  ensures  the  whole  neighborhood  keeps  it  up  ,  although  there’s  very  little  he  can  do  when  the  vagabond  woman  seeks  emerson  out  on  the  playground  at  school  with  playground  attendants  who  clearly  don’t  care  enough  about  their  jobs  to  pay  attention  

one  of  emerson’s  earliest  formative  memories  is  her  mother  “  picking  her  up  ”  from  school  and  telling  her  they  were  off  to  go  on  an  adventure  ,  causing  an  amber  alert  to  be  put  out  for  the  then  seven-year  old  emmy  .  watching  her  mother  abandoning  her  on  the  sidewalk  to  bolt  away  at  the  sound  of  the  sirens  approaching  is  something  emerson  recognizes  as  the  beginning  of  her  trust  issues

the  older  she  gets  ,  the  more  she  acts  out  ,  landing  her  eventually  in  a  behavioral  school  in  downtown  chicago  where  she  spends  her  days  learning  just  about  nothing  in  class  and  acts  out  even  more  severely  .  christos  is  at  his  wit’s  end  with  the  visitations  from  police  and  her  behavioral  officer  ,  even  a  brief  stint  in  juvie  not  being  enough  to  curb  the  girl’s  enthusiasm  for  trouble  .  

aggression  towards  authority  figures  was  a  major  complaint  ,  but  the  most  severe  issue  became  emerson’s  quick  tongue  and  sharp  observation  .  after  having  learned  a  few  tricks  of  the  trade  from  other  students  at  the  behavioral  school  ,  she  finds  herself  increasingly  talented  at  conning  the  absolute  living  shit  out  of  other  people  .  at  first  it’s  small  things  ,  trading  academic  favors  for  weed  and  somehow  selling  that  for  twice  its  worth  to  the  gullible  students  ,  finding  ways  to  forge  signatures  on  things  she  needs  signed  by  a  guardian  ,  to  the  more  elaborate  and  high  scale  ,  such  as  taking  the  SATs  for  private  school  students  in  the  next  county  over  and  making  BANK  ,  conning  boys  into  trading  off  their  rolexes  which  she  later  pawns  .  

christos  puts  her  in  ice  hockey  at  the  recommendation  of  her  juvenile  probation  officer  at  the  age  of  13  ,  which  proves  to  be  one  of  her  saving  graces  .  her  coach  becomes  a  notable  figure  in  her  life  ,  smacking  the  sense  into  the  chaotic  child’s  mind  that  she  can  accomplish  so  much  more  than  she  gives  herself  credit  for  .  her  behavior  interventionist  recommends  an  adhd  screening  for  which  she  finally  gets  a  diagnosis  ,  and  a  prescription  for  adderall  ,  which  marks  the  beginning  of  her  transformation  .

just  before  entering  high  school  ,  christos  and  emerson  are  contacted  by  a  woman  who  identifies  herself  as  her  long  lost  aunt  .  as  it  turns  out  ,  her  hockey  coach  had  done  some  digging  and  found  that  her  father  ,  a  man  em  had  never  once  spoken  to  ,  had  an  estranged  family  located  in  ohio  ,  moguls  of  a  local  architecture  chain  with  political  ties  and  very  well  off  .  wanting  to  branch  out  into  more  metropolitan  areas  ,  they  mention  their  interest  in  moving  to  chicago  ,  and  concoct  a  plan  that  changes  emerson’s  life  

thanks  to  some  insider  ties  ,  her  politician  aunt  daphne  has  completely  erased  her  felon  brother  from  any  connection  to  her  ,  and  has  forged  a  life  for  herself  with  her  architect  husband  .  feeling  a  duty  to  her  estranged  niece  (  and  preferring  to  get  ahead  of  any  potential   surprises  that  could  come  from  having  secret  family  derailing  her  political  career  )  daphne  and  christos  come  to  the  agreement  that  emerson  can  be  “  adopted  ”  by  her  aunt  ,  living  as  her  daughter  and  trading  the  slums  she  grew  up  in  for  a  life  of  luxury  and  illusion  .  emerson  learns  to  tell  the  lie  with  ease  ,  “  i  lived  with  my  grandpa  instead  of  my  mom  and  dad  due  to  some  health  complications  that  were  best  treated  at  the  university  of  chicago  medical  center  ,  but  they  spent  as  much  time  as  possible  here  ”

in  order  for  the  lie  to  work  ,  and  possibly  one  of  the  most  difficult  moments  of  emerson’s  life  ,  daphne  regretfully  has  her  cut  off  contact  with  everyone  from  her  “  old  life  .  ”  letting  go  of  a  felon  father  and  schizophrenic  drug  addicted  mother  was  easy  due  to  never  having  attached  herself  in  the  first  place  ,  but  abandoning  the  families  that  raised  her  and  the  hockey  coach  who  changed  her  life  was  among  the  most  painful  thing  she’s  ever  done

she  changes  her  last  name  ,  moves  to  the  upper  class  suburb  of  chicacgo’s  finest  ,  her  con  artist  tendency  making  her  transition  seamless  and  the  illusion  of  fitting  in  so  much  more  than  an  illusion  .  learning  from  those  around  her  ,  emerson  learns  the  exact  things  to  say  ,  the  precise  ways  to  move  ,  and  with  a  newly  funded  bank  account  thanks  to  her  “  parents  ,  ”  she  pulls  off  the  act  with  ease  .  she  moves  up  into  a  premier  hockey  league  ,  achieves  grades  that  catch  the  attention  of  countless  schools  ,  and  transforms  into  a  driven  and  determined  steam  train  ,  with  a  one  way  ticket  into  a  legacy  she’s  built  from  the  ground  up

hollingsworth  u  became  her  most  appealing  option  after  touring  the  premises  and  finding  the  competitiveness  of  an  ivy  league  without  the  social  ineptitude  — equal  parts  ritzy  glam  and  fierce  ambition  ,  hu  seemed  to  embody  everything  emerson  was  seeking  without  the  pretentiousness  of  the  other  schools  groveling  at  her  feet  to  have  her

her  first  few  years  are  a  breeze  ,  her  family  connections  meaning  she’s  set  up  in  countless  places  to  achieve  whatever  she  wants  .  she  gets  an  internship  at  the  medical  center  doing  research  by  her  sophomore  year  ,  is  a  starter  on  their  women’s  hockey  team  ,  and  is  enjoying  the  social  aspect  of  her  sorority  time

shit  TRULY  hits  the  fan  the  summer  before  her  senior  year  ,  when  daphne’s  campaign  for  mayor  of  chicago  is  rattled  by  an  investigation  that  exposes  her  senior  assistant  for  having  embezzled  from  the  city  .  though  daphne  herself  is  innocent  ,  the  political  climate  pushes  for  a  closer  eye  on  the  hemmingways  and  their  dealings  .  a  crisis  manager  (  literally  olivia  pope  lmao  )  does  her  own  research  and  before  emerson  knows  it  ,  she’s  suddenly  thrust  into  her  senior  year  with  absolutely  no  financial  support  from  her  family  .  as  it  turns  out  ,  due  to  the  corners  cut  by  not  formally  nor  legally  adopting  emerson  (  as  it  would  have  left  a  paper  trail  )  ,  the  financial  aid  daphne  provided  would  route  in  a  way  that  would  not  line  up  with  the  birth  certificate  that  showed  emerson’s  birth  parents  as  people  other  than  her  fake  parents  .  not  wanting  to  risk  a  scandal  that  would  make  national  headlines  without  doubt  ,  daphne  and  emerson  devise  an  alternative  where  em  uses  her  academic  and  athletic  prowess  to  earn  scholarships  to  cover  her  schooling  ,  which  can’t  be  traced  and  leave  no  red  flags  for  anyone  trying  to  dig  up  dirt  .  

emerson  knows  she  can’t  let  anyone  think  she’s  struggling  ,  both  for  her  own  ego  and  for  the  sake  of  her  aunt’s  campaign  ,  which  is  why  she’s  pushing  herself  to  the  edge  to  keep  up  both  her  academics  and  her  athletics  to  maintain  these  scholarships  .  while  these  cover  the  basic  costs  ,  keeping  up  the  lifestyle  she’s  had  requires  a  bit  more  effort  ,  which  is  where  it  seems  this  tiger  won’t  change  her  stripes  no  matter  how  well  she  had  hidden  them  for  so  long  .  what  started  as  simple  tutoring  turned  into  a  teleportation  back  to  her  behavioral  school  in  chicago  but  on  a  wider  scale  —  she  sells  her  adderall  prescription  to  make  quick  cash  and  offers  her  services  for  fake  test  taking  or  last-minute  essay  writing  .  it’s  high  risk  ,  but  also  high  reward  ,  and  emerson  has  always  thrived  in  high  pressure  situations

⋆  ╰      𝑨  𝑵  𝑨  𝑳  𝒀  𝑺  𝑰  𝑺  .

personality  wise  ,  em  is  known  for  being  the  cool  calm  and  collected  type  ,  who’s  a  bit  of  a  mystery  to  most  .  she’s  an  illusion  and  lives  the  lie  she’s  been  telling  as  if  its  her  second  skin  ,  sometimes  losing  what  she  believes  in  at  her  core  .

she’s  deeply  ambitious  and  wants  to  be  a  surgeon  ,  her  dream  since  she  was  a  child  as  medicine  was  the  most  stimulating  thing  possible  to  her  .  she  did  so  much  research  on  her  “  fake  illness ”   to  sell  her  story  that  she  ended  up  falling  in  love  with  it  ,  and  has  been  set  on  medicine  ever  since

this  aggressive  ambition  can  also  show  as  fixation  or  obsession  ,  and  emerson  has  a  severe  problem  with  not  knowing  where  to  let  go  .  while  she  seems  cool  and  detatched  ,  she’s  obsessed  with  never  feeling  like  she  could  have  done  more  and  will  always  be  the  girl  who  can  be  goaded  into  taking  things  too  far  ,  often  putting  her  in  dangerous  situations  that  she  has  to  figure  her  own  way  out  of

she  tends  to  take  everything  kinda  seriously  and  despite  being  p  relaxed  ,  her  perfectionist  type  a  side  makes  itself  very  apparent  in  the  day-to-day  of  her  life  .  she  knows  how  to  play  hard  and  enjoys  herself  a  good  party  ,  but  even  in  the  way  she  plays  beer  pong  she  hates  to  fail

has  a  sexy  deep  voice  n  an  even  SEXIER  deadpan  sarcastic  wit  .  ..  .  def  the  friend  to  call  out  bs  without  batting  an  eye  ,  usually  wearing  an  oversized  hoodie  n  gucci  slides  ,  em  is  the  literal  intersection  of  boujie  and  casual   PHEW

having  such  an  unstable  upbringing  and  so  many  shitty  experiences  at  such  a  young  age  have  hardened  her  and  made  her  deeply  unwilling  to  trust  others  .  she  tends  to  keep  the  world  at  a  distance  ,  and  even  her  closest  friends  always  admit  it  feels  like  they’re  still  an  arms  length  from  her  deepest  layer  .  emerson  is  pretty  sure  the  only  person  to  ever  see  her  cry  is  her  grandpa  ,  and  intends  to  likely  keep  it  that  way

instead  of  freaking  out  ,  em  shuts  down  !  v  unemotional  !  she  just  detatches  and  tries  to  be  calculated  which  tends  to  make  people  think  she’s  some  shitty  robot  who  doesnt  give  a  fuck  about  anyone  but  herself  bc  of  her  “  rich  girl  upbringing ”  which  is  true  to  an  extent  ,  but  nobody  will  ever  know  the  true  backstory  that  explains  her  emotional  detachment  and  secrecy

in  a  way  ,  even  though  she  has  the  world  convinced  she’s  this  composed  individual  ,  she  still  always  thinks  of  herself  as  a  chaotic  problem  child  which  only  fuels  her  determination  even  more  ,  often  to  the  extent  that  she  fucking  burns  herself  out  .  she’s  incredibly  cynical  and  has  a  p  negative  self  perception  because  she’s  just  that  fucking  hard  on  herself

has  never  really  been  in  love  !  she’s  never  let  anyone  close  enough  to  her  that  she  risks  getting  attached  enough  to  get  hurt  ,  which  means  relationships  are  usually  rather  shallow  and  end  when  she  gets  bored  or  when  they  get  tired  of  waiting  for  her  to  open  up

stressed  as  SHIT  trying  to  keep  up  her  illusion  for  her  own  ego’s  sake  and  that  of  her  family  !  she’s  ashamed  of  her  upbringing  and  her  aunt  has  always  been  pretty  good  to  her  ,  and  em  recognizes  that  if  daphne  wouldn’t  have  appeared  ,  emerson  would  probably  have  ended  up  like  either  one  of  her  parents  .  people  have  noticed  that  emerson  seems  a  lil  more  anal  than  usual  ,  but  the  con  in  her  makes  it  easy  to  convince  everyone  she’s  just  stressed  with  the  prospect  of  graduation  and  medical  school  

[tellthosewithpowersafeintower]

some soft newsbians please??? if you want

I am always soft for Newsbians

Okay but honestly I love these girls and haven’t really written for them yet and I had an amazing time doing so. I really hope I did alright? I hope you enjoy ❤💚💜💛💙💖💕❤💚💜💛💙💖💕

Trigger Warnings: very brief allusion to a past sexist comment/period typical sexism

This is just very fluffy and I really hope I did these girls justice. Read it on ao3 if you’d prefer to see it there!

Katherine never really understood love.

Her relationship with her family has always been complicated. Days with her father and his affection seemed- conditional. She was a spider in a trap and while she loved him and she thought in his own way, he returned it, wanted her safe, Katherine wasn't his perfect daughter. She wasn't going to make pleasantries with the men when she'd rather be taking a place alongside them, asking questions, getting answers, and writing like hell because she was damn good enough to keep up with the rest of the men.

Love was something that could easily be retracted if she was too much or too loud or too noisy. It was something that she was wary of knew she couldn't trust and shaking her head, she set aside the odd fumbling attempts of boys to flirt with her and focused on her work.

Work was a lot less convoluted and complicated.

Then she has the newsies. Her father had long since retracted his assets, and they all take her request to be Katherine Plumber with ease and small, knowing smiles.

She supposed they'd known about the significance of a name to its holder.

Despite all the chaos that unfolded around them, there was always one thing Katherine had to look forwards to and she supposed she'd have to thank one David Jacobs for that.

Katherine loves nights with Sarah Jacobs. She loves nights that are softer, a reprieve from long hours and judgmental bosses and biting comments at "a women's efficiency". She loves quiet hours giggling and swapping stories, sharing comments and smiles and joy in hours all their own. Two girls who are smarter than the world gives them credit for who can talk and laugh and stargaze and share moments in friendship and laughter away from all the stress of their working days and maybe if she sneaks longer glances at Sarah sometimes, or they look at each other a moment too long before looking away, both a little more flushed than they were before there wasn't anyone else when it happened and it didn't truly mean anything.

It was just... them.

Together.

Katherine gets the credit sometimes. For her stories, her thoughts, and she knows, she does, after a long introspection that she'd already been handed that chance to pave the future. The boys? They built that for themselves. Sarah and Medda and Hannah, others, are fighting every step of the way to earn that right too. Sarah is brilliant. Katherine knows it when she watches her stand straight and assert herself, when she hears Sarah get passionate about politics and listens to her anger at how she's pushed to the side in favor of the boys in her life when she's just as smart and works just as hard. She knows it when Sarah talks about socialism, her dreams for the futures, a thousand words and thinks if she could get Sarah a pen and some paper she could make a fine journalist.

When they're on the rooftop, everything else doesn't matter. They talk about books Sarah's loved and swap literature, talk about how exasperating the boys in their lives are and grow impossibly closer to one another. When Katherine manages to draw one of Sarah's smile, lips curling into something softer Katherine swears the whole world would stop just for a look like that.

More and more, she notices things. Katherine puts to memory the way Sarah's face crinkles when she laughs, the way she bites her lip when she's struggling for words or fiddles with the hem of the dress when she's nervous. She notices the little details of her face up close, the little freckles and blemishes that all make her impossibly more fascinating. She notices the way she sputters when she's frustrated, wrings her hands and starts sounding a little more like her brother when she's upset, the way her body absolutely shifts, melting with fondness when she talks about her brothers.

Katherine notices the way she tries to muffle her smiles, but when they come they're something glorious and when her smile bursts into laughter, something bright and high and heavenly Katherine could swear she could die in that moment of pure happiness.

Sarah was the best, and first, and real friend she'd ever found and Katherine would always cherish that.

Tonight, they are quieter. The earlier laughter of the night has faded into a quiet, pleasant understanding. They have no need for words, in the pleasant lull of soft affection and closeness. Katherine studies the girl across from her as she works with her stitching, watching the way she furrows her brow in concentration and she once more feels a sweep of something warm inside her chest that takes over her whole body.

She's listened to Sarah before, animatedly chattering about the moon and a thousand facts Katherine never would have spent time to think of. But from Sarah, they are suddenly the most incredible ones she's ever heard and seeing her that enthusiastic and gleeful sends flutters beneath her skin. Under moonlight, Sarah looks like an angel bathed in light and Katherine finds her gaze darting away and her breath faltering a little.

"Before I knew you, I never understood what it was like to look at someone and smile for no reason," the words are a breath, a whisper, soft and captured perfectly in the night air. Sarah turns to her, eyes wide and mouth parting softly and Katherine takes a step back, feeling unbearably warm and eyes dropping to hands and suddenly mortified. "Oh, God, I'm- sorry that was..." Overbearing, pretentious, too much, I didn't mean-

"Kathie," Sarah's voice is achingly gentle and Katherine feels a shiver run down her spine at the aching fondness and smile she can hear hiding in the name.

Katherine finds her gaze flying to Sarah's, wanting to brace her shoulders for what's sure to come and is stopped short. She's almost blown away by how stunning Sarah looks, deep brown eyes wide and tinged with something bright and undeniably hopeful.

"I've never had anything like this either," Sarah shuffles her foot on the concrete below and Katherine realizes with a pang that Sarah looks painfully uncertain, a concept seeming so foreign and wrong connected with the girl she lo-

Katherine's heart rammed to a halt in her chest. The girl she loves. That is a concept so strange and frightful and undeniably perfect in the same moment. An explanation for a thousand questions she'd never even figured asking.

Katherine inhales shakily, and her hand flies down to Sarah's without thinking about it. Sarah's gaze meets hers, and their fingers lock and click perfectly together and the warmth of Sarah's skin on Katherine's is enough for her brain to short-circuit.

"I've never," It's almost marvelous, she thinks, lost in the dark brown of Sarah's eyes that for all the words Katherine has found and wielded in an instant Sarah has stolen them all away and all that's left is her name. Katherine forces herself to swallow and manages to get out weakly, "I've never had anything-" To believe in the way I've believed in you.

"I know," Sarah breathes finally and Katherine knows she does. There are a million words, a million thoughts and promises and silent adoration that are shared between them in one look. Starlight and wonder and hopes for the future mirror between their eyes and the night seems to last forever, and all those words seem to matter little when their lips connect in starlight and perfection and softness and love.

They'll share a thousand more kisses, a million more with each one tasting sweeter than the last because this? This had always been waiting for them, and that love could finally be their own.

[scum-belina]

Aight, since you're on such a movie binge lately, and since I usually love your recommendations, what are your top 10 movies?

Upon being asked this nearly 48 hours ago, my brain, despite having watched probably 1000 movies of all different genres and from multiple countries was like "the only movies you can remember is shrek 1 2 and 3" but after digging through my memory I THINK I have managed to find some of my top favorites movies. My favorites are defined solely on how much they managed to impact me and inspire me so here we go in no particular order!

1. “The Best Offer” (2013) by Giuseppe Tornatore. This is the most recent film I’ve seen and is by far one of my all-time favorites. It is at least 96% of everything I’ve ever wanted in a movie and I’m still reeling from the borderline perfection of the whole thing. Unsurprisingly I got interested in it bc of the older man/ younger woman thing, but nothing about their relationship development was cliche or shallow, so much so that it pleasantly surprised me, and then threw me through 25000 emotional roller coasters that were also on fire. It’s a drama, romance, comedy, mystery, thriller, and tragedy without being an absolute mess and idk if I will ever get over it I love it so much.

2. “Melancholia” (2011) by Lars Von Trier. A film that portrays severe depression through an apocalyptic metaphor and actually manages to skillfully get away with it. I love this movie as much as I hate it for being so raw and painful yet beautiful at the same time. Everyone in this is great but Kirsten Dunst truly is a formidable actress. This is the only LVT film I’ve fully enjoyed also bc all of his others have too much of a pretentious assholeishness to them and he just tries too damn hard to be edgy and it wastes the entire storyline. 

3. “The Phantom Of the Opera” (2004) by Joel Schumacher. A classic in every respect of the word. It’s got the twisted love tale that I’m an eternal sucker for PLUS they burst out into song abt such matters all the time??? LOVES IT. Everyone with even the slightest taste for the dramatic should watch it at least once.

4. “The Red Violin” (1998) By  François Girard. I Don’t even know how to describe this film. I just remember it from my childhood bc my dad was fascinated by it and I was too. It has an entirely foreign, mostly Italian cast which makes it somehow feel like even more of an authentic story. It really helped shaped me to realize just how important music and musical instruments are to humanity and how they are another way to express our innermost thoughts and feelings.

5. Moulin Rouge! (2001) by Baz Lurhmann. I will NEVER forget the first time I saw this. I was around 7 or 8 and my parents had rented it from blockbuster, and all 3 of us watched it in awe. Baz Lurhmann is nothing but a genius the way he integrated multiple modern songs into this musical and they FIT. The moulin rouge version of “Roxanne” knocks the original by The Police out of the park, out of the world, and out into another dimension. And then the original songs like “come what may” are all 10/10. It’s theatrical, it’s romantic, it’s funny, it’s tragic. Those are the 4 things that almost always cause me to love a movie. Also Ewan McGregor is absurdly hot in it and HIS SINGING  VOICE??? HHHHHOOOOOOO BBBBOOOOOYYYYYYYYY

6. “Phantom Thread” (2017) by Paul Thomas Anderson. I’m not gonna lie, I hopped onto this movie solely bc of the older man/younger woman romance theme that I am always a slut for, but much like The Best Offer it was SO MUCH more like??? This isn’t even about their age it’s about who THEY ARE and their differences yet their love for each other  and how can they balance their lives, who THEY ARE without hating one another as much as they love one another??? BOY I LOVE THAT TORTURED LOVE. This movie was almost NOTHING of what I expected from it and I loved every surprise it gave me. 

7. “Perfume: The Story of a Murderer” (2006)  by Tom Tykwer. Idek WHAT to say about this film other than it’s so good!!! It’s so fucked up!!! I’M so fucked up!!! I love it so much!!! You know how me be!!! Love that nasty artsy badness!!! Go watch it and then message me asking me what the fuck is wrong with me!!!

8. “V for Vendetta” (2005) by James McTeigue. I know this movie has been overhyped at times, but it truly is incredible. Both the left and right seem to claim this movie as their own, but my libertarian ass just loves it for its anti-tyranny theme and ofc for the development of Evey and V’s relationship. It’s definitely worth at least one watch. 

9. Pirates of the Caribbean (2003-2007 so only the original trilogy bc those are the only ones that really exist and matter ok) by Gore Verbinski. I was around 9-10 when I saw the first potc, and it changed me and inspired me for life. Immediately I found Elizabeth Swann so relatable not just bc we have the same first name, but because she had the same intense desire for freedom and adventure as I had/ still do tbh. She liked the “bad guys” and wanted to be one of them and ultimately became “King” of them without sacrificing her own femininity and OHHH I LOVE THAT. The original potc trilogy has the perfect blend of adventure, fantasy, horror, and romance for me (although I will always wish Elizabeth had ended up with Jack in the end I will DIE for this ship).Mind you, The Mummy (1999) Came EXTREMELY close to taking potc’s place, but the mummy never managed to make a good or even rewatchable trilogy like potc did so potc wins this.

10. This is Spinal Tap (1984) by Rob Reiner. The only complete comedy on this list, I cannot even begin to describe how genius this film is. I have watched it so many times since childhood and I STILL find new jokes in it that I had never noticed before. Anyone who has had even the slightest bit of an interest in music should find this hilarious. The Stonehenge mishap scene alone makes this one of the greatest comedies of all time.

These are some of the few that I’ve been able to come back to mind from memory rn but I’m sure I’ll think of other faves later. but all of these are some definite top  faves of mine that impho (in my personal humble/horny opinion) everyone should watch at least once