#you had to pay for that membership to get her i think so its actually 60. but Still.

[sonknuxadow]

with every new collector monster high release i become more and more convinced that theyre just deciding the prices at random because what the fuck makes fang vote rochelle worth 90 dollars when they just sold that chucky and tiffany two pack for 90 dollars and none of these dolls look like they should cost 90 dollars anyway

[explicit-tae]

Babe I just giggle maniacally for a straight up fluff of ungodly hour. Where mc just softly complaining in whispers to jk her back hurts for her work and ehem from him too. Jk just cooed and rubs her back her cheeks her arms her thighs cuz boy when simp for the ninth time and its all just fluff UGHHHH

you know every time someone has a thought about ungodly hour i have to write it 😭💜

Ungodly Hour

word count: 1.173

“So I was thinking about wearing this tomorrow for dinner with your parents.” Jungkook turns around, holding up something you didn’t care to see. “I need to come off as someone who - are you okay?”

Jungkook knits his brows at your unmoving position on the bed - the same position he’s left you in 10 minutes prior - naked and all.

You mumble something inaudible to Jungkook and he sighs. He places the shirt neatly back into the closet and comes closer to the bed. “This is why I said we need a safe word.”

You suck your teeth at Jungkook’s words.

“Don’t be like that, Y/N. I fucked you so good that-”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” You hiss, straining your neck to look at him.

Jungkook wants to laugh because, of course, you’d speak up to argue with him.

“It’s not like we do anything that requires a safe word. You act as if you have me hanging from the ceiling.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “The way you’re laying there after a good fuck, you mind-”

Jungkook manages to dodge a kick, but it isn’t like you put enough force into it. Jungkook decides to stop teasing you.

“My body just hurts.” you murmur, a slight pout on your lips. “Not because of you or your mediocre dick, either. I just had a long day at work.”

Jungkook scoffs with a roll of his eye. “It must be so hard standing in the same place.”

Your eyes harden at Jungkook and in retaliation, you decide to turn over, back facing him. “I actually had to stock stuff today.” you say. You were sick of Jungkook and his constant teasing that your job “wasn’t stressful” because all you did was “stand there and look pretty”.

Jungkook gasps dramatically. “They had you stock the shelves?” he hides his laughter, especially when you attempt to send another kick his way that he dodges easily. “My poor Y/N, having to work even though I pay for everything.”

Jungkook dips onto his bed beside you, his hands rubbing circles onto your back. “Maybe you should quit if it’s starting to strain your body.”

You lay on your arms, turning your head to look at Jungkook with an unamused look. “I can’t just quit my job.”

Jungkook blinks, deepening the pressure onto your back. “Why not?” he asks. “What if they have you stock more shelves?” Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek because the thought of stocking shelves straining your body this much makes him want to laugh at how dramatically (cute) you were.

“Nice to know that my pain is bringing you such enjoyment.” you bite back, closing your eyes. 

“Of course not.” Jungkook focuses his hands on your neck, rubbing circles around them before he reaches your shoulders. “You don’t want to quit. This is your own fault.”

“I have bills to pay.” you murmur gently. 

“I pay your bills.” Jungkook retorts. And it wasn’t a lie - but it isn’t like you asked him to. Jungkook insisted like he always did, stating that if you and he were going to be dating then that meant he was going to have to “step up” more. “I get you everything you need. Your paychecks are just pocket change.”

“Ugh, rude.” you turn your head the other way, sighing as Jungkook's hands dip onto your back. “Maybe I don’t want to leech off of you.”

Jungkook remains quiet - you were far too stubborn. His words do nothing but go into one ear and out the other - no matter how many times Jungkook has to explain that he enjoys doing what he does for you, you’d never see it that way.

“So you aren’t quitting?” Jungkook asks after another 5 minutes. He’s sure you were dozing off, your breathing was becoming slowed and body limp. 

You made a sound that told him “no”.

“I see. I can get you a membership so you can get massages-”

“Shut up, simp.” you murmur, eyelids already heavy, but nonetheless, you move closer to Jungkook. At this, he allows you to come closer, lying down besides you to bring you closer to him. 

Jungkook’s warmth is inviting and you immediately sink deeper into his embrace. You hum softly when you feel Jungkook’s fingers lightly trace your back, as if drawing shapes or writing letters. It tickles lightly and causes you to squirm when they inch up your spine until they’re at the nape of your neck. “You’re so cute.” Jungkook murmurs, lips against your forehead as his fingers gently rub along your neck. “Wanna shower?”

You huff - because yes, you did. But you also didn’t feel like getting up off of the bed and out of Jungkook’s warm embrace (not like you’d ever tell him that).

“I can run you a bath instead.” Jungkook offers, kissing your forehead softly. He understands that he could be a bit rough when in the act of intimacy and as much as you enjoyed it, it did weigh down on your body. “I wish you’d just tell me to slow down sometimes.”

“My mother didn’t raise a bitch.” was your response - a typical you response that has Jungkook snorting. 

Jungkook kisses your forehead again, “I’ll start the bath for you.” he says, untangling himself from you and lowly, you groan at the lack of warmth but didn’t protest. You didn’t want Jungkook actually thinking you wanted his presence - because of course it wasn’t that.

As time passed on with you staying in Jungkook’s home frequently, he made sure you had essentials. He cleared up some room for you - assuring you had a couple drawers in his bathroom for your own feminine products and beauty products. As he starts the bath, he’s sure to add the warm smell of vanilla you enjoy so that you could relax. 

“Come.” Jungkook tugs at your leg gently to get you to move from your position on the bed. “Your bath is ready.”

“Ugh.” you groan and lift yourself from Jungkook’s bed. Jungkook has a small smile on his lips  as he watches you go from his bedroom to the bathroom and dip into the bath. 

“Feels good?” Jungkook asks, leaning against the counter and watch you sink into the bath and only your head is present. 

“It’s okay.” you murmur, closing your eyes and Jungkook knows that it’s your way of saying that you loved the gesture - but you were undoubtedly you and giving him credit would be the last thing you’d ever do. 

However, Jungkook would never take you seriously so he just snickers. “I’ll order us some food.”

One eye peaks open at Jungkook who is waiting for a response.

“You want me to get something sweet, too, I assume?” Jungkook already knows by the look in your eyes and when you nod, he laughs. “Anything for you.”

“Simp.” you murmur, sinking into the bath to avoid Jungkook seeing your expression.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and the way he makes your heart beat at his genuine gestures of kindness.

DRABBLE 3 | Part 7

[sunflowers-n-cyanide]

My day so far (2/10/23)

So, today was a long one.

I didn't really sleep that well, like at all. It's just been like that for the last while honestly. And it's not my dreams, but now I am used to my dreams being vivid and all night long, as soon I fall asleep, every single night.

But I woke up and took care of my pets, then did my new morning routine of the last two days. I've been waking up before my partner, which has been very pleasant. But I end up waking him up, which is frustrating because he needs his sleep.

We ended up watching some TV. I think it was Young Sheldon and something else I can't think of right now.

But then I went to one of my favorite parts of my day! I spoil my self occasionally and get my nails done. I used to get acrylic nails done but now I get gel nails for a few reasons. One of the reasons is its cheaper and the other that my nails honestly needed a breather from the acrylic.

Anyway, the last two times I went I have gotten Valentine's day gel nails. Last time I went I got a red base with three little pink and white hearts alternating in the corners of my ring and thumb nails. They were just adorable! But here are my nails for this time,

Oh I forgot to add that I also got lunch right before my appointment, but it was quick!

The next part of my day nice, we got gas at Costco (my mom has a membership and I am a guest and just use the gas) it $3.279/gal today.

After my partner and I got gas we stopped at my mom's house. I had to put a letter in the mail. Then we picked up a couple packages that were ours. I got her mail and put in her house.

This next part is something that I am honestly so proud of! It may be silly to some people but this is something I have never done before. So, backstory time okay? I usually just take what gets delivered to me no matter what, even if I am not satisfied. But I have been practicing budgeting and self-care. And honestly this one was kind of on me, and I know to never order from this person on eBay ever again. They don't normally take returns but because of my accurate review they took mine.

So, my partner loves horror anthologies, I do not, this wasn't even for me. he's trying to collect these. It was the Friday the 13th TV series and it was a bootleg DVD when the described the set as the actual thing. I basically called them out and they were kind of forced to give me back my money. That's not what I am proud of. I hated doing that, I am proud of learning the process at the Post Office on how it works.

I didn't know how it works, did you know they scan a QR code now? You pick a package you want to send your item back in, pay for it and they scan a QR code and its printed. That's so cool!

I also got some really cute puppy & kitty stamps with love in the background that I want to use to send letters with but I don't have a pen pal. So if you want a penpal hit me up.

If you read all this, thank you!! you are awesome, loved and cherished. even those that didn't I understand.

[johnsamericano]

𝔖𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 ℜ𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔧.𝔧.𝔥 •2•

Hi hi! I'm back with another chapter. This one might not be as good(?, it's a really fluffy chapter so bear with me.

warnings: sugar daddy jae, he's a big baby, tooth rotting, kinda long.

sugar rush m.list.

taglist: @thoreeo @trustmahluv @sunny-nyu @nanascupid @silent-potato

“Sir, there’s a girl asking to see you.”

“Hey, I’m not a girl!” He chuckled as his finger pressed the button to communicate with his secretary.

“Hey, I’m not a girl!” He chuckled as his finger pressed the button to communicate with his secretary.

“Hey, I’m not a girl!” He chuckled as his finger pressed the button to communicate with his secretary.

“Let her in.”

Only a few seconds later, your head was peeking through his door.

“I brought you coffee.” You extended your hand out, showing him the carton containing two iced drinks. “Are you busy?”

“Not at all, come in.” You sat on the elegant, individual sofa in front of him, his desk serving as a separation. “Are you here to spy on me? Don't you trust me with your father's case?” He pouted, typing something in his keyboard while your palms started sweating.

How could you not trust the man with the highest case winning index in the whole country?

Briefly, after your encounter with the other lawyer, you'd googled him as well as his company. Because of his incredibly high fees, he didn't have many clients, but those few who had enough money to cost him were almost assured to be on the winning side. So then, why hadn't an excellent lawyer like him popped up when you'd first looked for popular firms? Simple, he wasn't popular.

Just like a hidden gem, only a few had the pleasure to know Yoonoh, and you felt beyond grateful for paying that stupid membership weeks ago.

“No, no!” You were quick to defend yourself, frantically shaking your hands to support your previous statement. “Just wanted to be of help.”

Truth to be told, after receiving your first weekly allowance, an unsettling feeling had been squeezing your heart ever since. Call it guilt or whatever, but it didn't set right to be receiving si much help from him when you hadn't had the chance to do anything in return. The least you could do was trying to be polite.

“You shouldn't be spending your money on me. I'm the one supposed to spoil you, remember?” He grabbed the plastic container by the lid, sipping the bitter liquid with an amused smile. “But thank you.”

“I paid my rent yesterday.” You blurted out, trying to avoid the uncomfortable silence threatening to settle between the two of you. “And I still have money left to save for my father's hospital bills, maybe even buy a present for my aunt.”

He admired how noble you were, making sure those around you had enough before even thinking to do something for yourself.

“I have a party this Friday, would you like to attend with me?” Your presence wasn't required as it wasn't a big event, but by the look in your eyes, he knew you were itching to do something in return for his kindness.

“Yes, of course!” Your orbs sparkled with excitement, finally feeling yourself useful.

“If you don't mind waiting, we can go buy something for you to wear right after I finish with this.” For what seemed like the tenth time in less than ten minutes, small beads of sweat rolled down the back of your neck. Thank God he wasn't able to see them. “Oh, come on, don't give me that look!”

“You’ve already done so much for me. I can buy the clothes myself, don't worry.” With a deep sigh, Yoonoh rose from his chair, taking long strides to surround the desk separating you. “W-what are you doing?” Now kneeling on the floor beneath you, his face was dangerously close to yours, coffee breath crashing against your nose.

“Using mind control to convince you to let me take you out.” He stared at you for a couple more seconds before saying: “Is it working?”

“I think your mind control is broken.” You whisper, unable to hold back the small giggles bubbling at the back of your throat.

“How about now?” He batted his eyelashes, trying to act cute despite his bold features. You shook your head.

Just as you thought it was over, his hand went up to cup your jaw, his thumb drawing uneven figures on the ticklish skin.

“How about now?” He repeated. You stammered, unsure of what to say. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.” Aware of your awkwardness and the rising heat in your cheeks, he stood up, walking back to his chair. “But I do want to get you something, would you let me?”

With your mind busy and your guard low, you nodded, unaware of the silly smile on his face.

“I have a few novels on my shelf in case you want something to kill time.”

“Thank you.” You moved to the huge bookshelf facing his desk, grateful your face wasn't visible anymore.

The books were ordered by genre and size, starting from the biggest law-related textbooks to pocket-sized novels, ending with the smallest one he had. The little prince.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. Yoonoh didn't seem to be the type to read that kind of heartbreaking yet beautiful book. Nonetheless, as many said, you can't judge a book by its cover.

An hour or two later, you were halfway into the first book of flowers in the attic, immersed in the small world the author had created. Yoonoh had finished his work a few minutes before, but distracting you when you were reading so vividly, seemed like a crime. He enjoyed the way your eyebrows would knit together every time something shocking happened, clearly too immersed in the novel to notice his intense gaze.

“Y/n...” He whispered once he noticed you were starting a new chapter. You blinked twice, hands clutching the book tightly as you noticed he had finished his work. “You can take it home, don't worry.”

“Sure?” He flashed his pretty dimples as his eyes turned into half-moons.

“You can come back for the rest of the saga when you finish this one. Take as many books as you please, I’ve already read them all.”

“Thank you.” Another act of kindness you had no way of returning. His favors just seemed to be piling up before you could even return any. “Would you like to have dinner with me today? I'm a great cook, or so did my father said.” You blurted out quickly, twisting your hands nervously as you waited for an answer.

“I’d love to. But I might have to attend some work calls if you don't mind.”

“I don't, maybe I'll even have time to bake a cake while you're at it.” God, how bad he wanted to take a picture of that adorably nervous smile.

“Great, so it's settled. Dinner at your place after we go shopping.” He had already put his blazer on, offering his arm to guide you out. With shaky fingers and sweaty armpits, you grabbed it, walking by his side with his secretary’s gazed glued on you. So much for a girl, huh?

Once seated in his car, with the book resting on your lap, you allowed yourself to relax. Yoonoh wasn't a bad person, on the contrary, he was very kind, so there was no use in keeping your guard up when he was around.

“Ready to roll?” You cringed at his use of slang, making him drop his head back to laugh. “What? Isn't it a thing you cool young adults say?”

“Maybe twenty years ago, Yoonoh.” It was the very first time you used his name so informally, and, oh how good it felt to hear you saying it?

“Fine, I won't use it anymore.” He poked your arm like a little child, and for a moment, you wondered if he was actually more than a decade older.

Several bad jokes, two dresses, and a quick stop at the grocery store later, you arrived at your apartment. Yoonoh held everything while you entered the passcode, struggling not to drop a can of vegetables that was starting to bend the edge of the paper bag.

“Ready, hand me something.” You both entered with your hands packed with different things. You went to your room to leave the new dresses while Yoonoh set the paper bags down on the kitchen counter.

“So...” He clapped loudly. “What are we cooking?”

“I bought the ingredients for lasagna. Is that okay with you?” He nodded, lips pressed and dimples in display. “Alright, let's do this.”

It would've been of great help if Yoonoh had told you he didn't know how to cook. But of course, part of the fault was yours for not noticing when he tried to add ketchup to the recipe.

“I burnt it.” He looked at the semi-carbonized pasta with disgust, feeling ashamed of having ruined your dish. “Let’s just throw it away and order something.” He was about to touch the hot container until your grip on his wrist halted his movements.

“We just pulled it out of the oven.” You shook your head in disbelief at the man standing in front of you.

“Sorry.”

Despite Yoonoh’s endless complaining, you ate the lasagna. The flavor wasn't that bad when you scratched off the burnt parts, especially when accompanied by a cold glass of wine.

“It’s not that bad.” You repeated over and over again. A phone call interrupted him from self-pitying any further. “Go on, take it.” You continued eating while he spoke in the living room.

It wasn't until a couple of minutes later that you realized he was whisper yelling at whoever was on the other line. It was your first time seeing him angry, and you didn't like it one bit. The way his face turned completely stoic, his eyes cold as his hand rested on his hip. Sweet, caring, Yoonoh was gone.

“I told you I needed it for today.” He said through gritted teeth. “You better get it before I arrive back at the office, or you can find yourself another job.” Even after he hung up, Yoonoh stood in the middle of the shared area, clutching his phone so tightly, it seemed like it would break any minute.

You wanted to ask if everything was alright, if he needed any help, but most importantly, if the things he needed were related to your father's case, but all the words stuck to your throat like insects in a spider web.

“I need to go.” He simply said, not even bothering to fake a smile. “Thank you for dinner, I'll see you on Friday.” With his free hand, he grabbed the coat hanging from his chair and left, slamming the door on his way out.

Was that the real Yoonoh?

A shiver ran down your spine. What had you gotten into? From what you'd seen, it was only about time he would show his true self to you as well.

All the trust you'd built up during the day, had crumbled down in a matter of seconds. The worst part? You didn't even feel entitled to be scared, not after all he'd done for you.

‘Just keep your distance.’ You repeated like a mantra as you got ready for bed, leaving the book you'd borrowed right where he'd left it, afraid it would burn your fingertips even with the slightest touch.

(...)

The week wasn't nearly as long as you'd wanted it to be, and soon enough, you were struggling to zip the dress you'd bought days ago. Your makeup was done, and Yoonoh had texted you he was on his way, yet, you'd been fighting with the zipper for at least ten minutes. Your fingers were cramping, and the clock was ticking.

Just when you'd finally started to drag the small piece of metal, the doorbell startled you, causing you to let go of it.

“Fuck!” Have you ever felt so desperate that tears start pricking your eyes? Well, that was the exact case happening at the moment.

You opened the door with the salty water collecting at the corner of your eyes, surprising Yoonoh, who was wearing his best dimply smile.

“What’s wrong?” He had a bouquet poorly hidden behind his back, probably to apologize for the night he abruptly left and almost knocked down your door.

“I-I can't zip up my dress.” Your voice came out shaky, giving away the emotions burning your gut. Thankfully, Yoonoh didn't seem to notice, and if he did, he didn't mention it.

“I’ll help you.” He, not-so-discretely, put down the bouquet, gently turning you around to your discomfort. His cold hands touched your back as he dragged the zip up, noticing how tense you were but deciding not to comment on it. “Oh! You haven't moved the book from where I left it.”

“I haven't had time to read.” He hummed, crouching to reach for the bouquet and hand it to you. “Thank you.”

“It’s my way of apologizing for the fit I threw a couple of days ago.” A fit? That was one way to call it.

“It’s okay.” You lied as you pushed the corners of your lips to form a credible smile. “Let’s get going.”

The flowers were left on the kitchen counter before you left. The ride in the elevator was awfully quiet, and Yoonoh had no idea what had happened. You were so chatty the last time he saw you, so of course, he was taken aback by the sudden change.

“It’s not going to take long, so we can head out for some drinks later if you'd like...” You nodded, for you knew speaking would only expose your discomfort. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah! Just nervous about the party, that's all.”

You stood by Yoonoh’s side for the rest of the evening, smiling and nodding at his acquaintances’ comments. At one point in the evening, a man, not much older than you, approached you both with a wide smile.

“Dude, I hadn't seen you in ages. Stop sending your workers and come see me yourself.” They hugged. Why were they hugging?

“Y/n, this is my brother, Sungchan.” The man with puppy-like eyes embraced you tightly, almost as if welcoming you to his family. “Sungchan, this is y/n, my girlfriend.” He said it so naturally, it’d take a detective to figure out the truth about your relationship.

“I’ve heard a lot about you. I'm sorry for your father. But don't worry, we'll take those bastards down.”

“I’m not following...” You blinked repeatedly, eyes going back and forth between Yoonoh and his brother.

“Sungchan is a doctor. I asked him to look at your father's case for further evidence. My assistant was supposed to pick up the report the day we had dinner, but she forgot to drop by. Now we’re a day behind schedule.” The dark cloud surrounding him seemed to be slowly dissipating as you heard his explanation. “This is an important case, and I want to be as meticulous as possible.”

Thank you didn't seem the right thing to say at the moment, at least not with Sungchan standing there, so you simply grabbed his hand, squeezing it to let him know how grateful you were.

To your surprise, he didn't even flinch as he locked your hands together, causing a small giggle from Sungchan.

“Okay, love birds, I'll get going.” He waved you goodbye, making his way to another table where his friend waited for him.

“Can we talk?” You whispered in his ear, afraid one of the numerous attendants would hear you.

“Sure.” Without letting go of your hand, he drove you to a small, private garden just outside the ballroom. “Are you gonna tell me what's wrong now?” His thumb caressed your knuckles with gentle strokes.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What for?”

“I pushed you away at the minimum trouble when you were only helping me.” He hummed as if he already knew about it. “And it will probably happen again, so please, be patient with me. I'm going through-” Your face collided against his chest as his arms draped over your shoulders, squeezing you tightly.

“Call me reckless, but I've wanted to do this for a while.” Your hands hung at the sides of your torso, unsure what to do next. “You can push me away, I'll understand...”

Instead, your palm found its place in his back, rubbing up and down the designer jacket. Your hair started turning messy from the night breeze, some strands striking Yoonoh’s chin as his embrace only grew tighter.

“Let’s get out of here.” He mumbled, crawling the back of your head with his hand. “Sungchan can deal with my father's friends.”

“Are you sure?” His hum vibrated through his chest, making you giggle at the odd feeling.

Once seated in his car, his hand found yours like a magnet, the warmth emanating from it comfortably enveloping your skin.

The calmness of the atmosphere was interrupted by a call from his brother, who seemed to be anxiously explaining something through the phone.

“Just tell him I had a work emergency.” With that said, he hung up, placing his hand back again on top of yours. “Sorry, he said it was urgent.”

“It’s okay.” An unsettling feeling pinched your stomach, but you decided to dismiss it, immersed in the chilly weather of the dark streets.

You arrived at the river, where Yoonoh asked you to wait for him while he bought a couple of beers. It was a sight to see, both of you clad in fancy clothes, barefoot and chugging down can after can.

“I think I like being with you.” You declared, mind fuzzy from the alcohol intake.

“I think I like it too.” The tips of his ears were rosy, revealing he was as intoxicated as you, maybe even more.

“Would you like to visit my father with me tomorrow?” The words flew out of your mouth before you could even realize. Afraid you'd killed the mood, you tried to excuse yourself, only to be interrupted by his lips grazing your ear, placing a timid kiss on your lobe.

“I’d love to.” It was the sweetest peck, no ulterior motives behind it, just pure affection.

“Are we going too fast?” In your drunken state, what you had felt like a real relationship, not a simple agreement. And this sure felt like a first date.

“We’re moving at our own pace, I believe.” He dropped his head on your shoulder, pressing against it to relieve the dizziness clouding his mind. “Are you okay with that? Maybe you don't want to be with an old creep like me, and I'd totally get it. Just don't let me get my hopes up if that's the case.”

“You might be old, but definitely not a creep.” Your fingers combed through his abundant hair as your mind wandered into the future, grateful for the fact that he wouldn't become bald soon. “Or are you?”

“I don't think so.” Anyone who walked by would've seen a couple of goofs, too intoxicated to talk without slurring the words, but you were living in your own, comfy bubble. “I should get you home before it gets too late. Come on, I'll call a driver.” He tried getting on his feet to no avail, stumbling back a little before falling back on his ass.

“My apartment is nearby. You can stay for the night.” You grabbed both pairs of shoes as his arm surrounded your shoulder for assistance. “If you keep supporting your whole weight on me, we're both gonna fall.” People on the street shot you a couple of funny looks, which was understandable since it wasn't usual to see two drunk idiots walking barefoot in the middle of the night.

“How long till-” Hiccup. “-we get there?” His stare seemed to worsen with every step. “God, I think I might throw up.”

“Stop acting like a teenager, we're almost there.”

As soon as you arrived at the small apartment, you sat him down on the little step where you changed your shoes. You left both pairs on the rack, proceeding to put on slippers to enter the house.

“Don’t leave me here!” He whined, stomping his feet like a little kid.

“Just wait for a second!” His attitude was starting to get on your nerves to the point where you couldn't feel the effects of the beer anymore.

You grabbed a rag from the kitchen cabinet and dampened it under the sink. Yoonoh was half asleep when you walked back to him.

“My head hurts.” He mumbled as you sat in front of him, placing his left foot on your lap. “What are you doing?”

“I don't have any slippers that will fit you, and I don't want your dirty feet making my house dirty.” With utmost delicacy, you wiped away the dirt from his toes, noticing the small scratches caused by the gravel he walked on.

He touched your hair while you finished with his other foot, tangling the strands with fascination.

“Done, get up.”

He followed your indications as you guided him to your room, where you laid him down on his side in case he threw up.

“Are we visiting your father tomorrow?” He asked while snuggling under the covers.

“Sure.” You cleared his forehead from the strands falling in it, grazing the soft skin of his forehead. “Sweet dreams, gigantic baby.”

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The "work ethic" is a dirty trick we play on ourselves

In Nebraska — and elsewhere — the forced-labor camps that some prisoners are sent to have been rebranded. They’re called “Work-Ethic Camps” now, and prisoners do 30–40h/week of hard labor for $1.21/day, interspersed with “intro to business” courses.

As Jamiek McCallum writes in Aeon: “If there was a formula for obliterating the work ethic, giving people undesirable jobs with long hours and barely paying them sounds exactly like it.”

https://aeon.co/essays/how-the-work-ethic-became-a-substitute-for-good-jobs

McCallum is reiterating the thesis of his 2020 book, “Worked Over: How Round-the-Clock Work Is Killing the American Dream,” which presents discourse about work-ethic as “a severe anxiety about a fundamental precept of the American civil religion.”

https://www.basicbooks.com/titles/jamie-k-mccallum/worked-over/9781541618343/

Americans fret that a failing work-ethic is symbolic of national decline. Which is weird: hours for all workers rose by 13% between 1975 and 2016, and millennials are more likely than their elders to say “hard work is important to getting ahead.”

https://oxford.universitypressscholarship.com/view/10.1093/oso/9780190685898.001.0001/oso-9780190685898-chapter-4

The white-collar workers who locked down for the pandemic increased their hours worked:

https://hbr.org/2020/07/microsoft-analyzed-data-on-its-newly-remote-workforce

The precarious “essential” workers who risked their lives and stayed on the job contended with irregular schedules and low pay.

We have a “work ethic” problem — but it’s not too little work ethic — it’s too much.

McCallum: “overwork, unstable schedules, and a lack of adequate hours define the paradoxical time signature of the work life today.”

But, McCallum argues, the work ethic doesn’t create the bad working conditions. Rather, we dream up the work ethic to resolve the cognitive dissonance of unsustainable, brutal working conditions.

That’s why surveys show workers who express a preference for shorter hours report satisfaction with their working conditions when their hours get longer — workers don’t “get what they want” so they “want what they get.”

https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1162/1088198054084581

This rationalizing of the bruising effects of overwork as the virtuous expression of good morals is essential to capitalism. Capitalism requires that we prove ourselves “worthy” — of food, shelter, education, leisure — by succeeding in the market.

It’s not shocking that a Wisconsin school district is ending free school meals for young children in order to improve their work ethic. If you can’t afford food, you don’t deserve food.

https://www.businessinsider.com/waukesha-school-district-says-free-school-meals-spoil-students-2021-8

The cult of the work ethic is the flipside of the aristocrat’s leisure-as-status-symbol — the use of hobbies and “idleness” as a way to demonstrate your membership in the ruling class — think of preppie chic, with its emphasis on golf- and boating-clothes.

Early capitalists demanded leisure for themselves and hard work for the proletariat — but so did their enemies. Marxists valorized work and workers, creating the worker-hero.

But the left has also always had a pro-leisure/anti work ethic tendency, embodied by the likes of Woody Guthrie, whose “Talking Hard Luck Blues” is a smart and savage assault on the idea that overwork is a virtue.

https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/woodyguthrie/talkinghardluckblues.html

I held 125 head of wild horses, put saddles and bridles on more that that

Harnessed some of the craziest, wildest teams in the whole country

I rode 14 loco broncos to a dead standstill and let 42 hound dogs lick me all over

Seven times I was bit by hungry dogs and I was chewed all to pieces by

Water moccasins and rattlesnakes on two separate river bottoms

I chopped and I carried 314 armloads of stove wood, 100 buckets of coal

And I carried a gallon of kerosene 18 miles over the mountains, got lost

Lost a pair of shoes in a mud hole

And I chopped and I weeded 48 rows of short cotton, 13 acres of bad corn

And cut sticker weeds out of 11 back yards

“All on accounta’ cause I wanted to show her that I was a man a I liked to work.”

In “Talking Union,” Guthrie says the point is leisure:

You get shorter hours, better working conditions, vacations with pay, take the kids to the seaside.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C13JFv4JfH8

The work ethic hustle hasn’t just robbed us of time for leisure — it’s transformed leisure into a self-Taylorizing time-and-motion hustle. Conquering Disneyland requires a project manager, a spreadsheet and a stopwatch.

https://doctorow.medium.com/disneyland-at-a-stroll-part-vi-62934f35aac1

This is why we call it “late-stage capitalism.” It’s not just precarious workers logging destructively long shifts and losing the leisure time to imagine, dream, love and live — it’s also the 1%, who sometimes pay for the privilege. It’s a system that punishes the winners, albeit less severely than the losers.

McCallum closes his essay with some remarks from Andrew Russell, an inmate at a Nebraskan Work Ethic Camp. Russell worked a series of sub-survival jobs before finding a living wage selling meth, a gruelling job that he worked long hours at before his arrest.

Russell actually escaped from the WEC but was turned in by a friend who needed the reward money, and had to serve an extra year as punishment. He served three years and was released in 2019, having earned “enough money to buy a bus ticket to his parents’ house.”

“I know how to work just fine, been doing it as a kid. What are they trying to prove? I like to work hard, but there’s gotta be a point, so I don’t feel I completely wasted my time. I wanna do real work. What really matters is everything we do outside our jobs to strengthen our community — that’s the real work.”

[adventuresinwonderlust]

Title: Serious Inquiries Only: PART 2 

*FOR PART 1 CLICK HERE or SEE MASTERLIST*

Pairing: dom! yoongi x reader ft. Hobi

Warnings: Talk of sexual favors, flirting, crack, humor, Solo Masturbation (M) (F).

Rating: 18 and over

Yoongi:

Yoongi sits at his computer browsing through his ‘SIO' page when a notification pops up. A new subscriber has signed up for a yearly membership but didn’t submit a request for their welcome gift. “Hmm, strange.” He clicks on the new subscriber’s user name ‘WildGoddess11'. He hums again. “OK wild Goddess, let’s get you set up shall we.” He shoots a private message to the user.

‘Hello WildGoddess11,

Welcome to my page. I hope you find everything you’re looking for here. I noticed however that you didn’t send in a request for your personal gift. Please be sure to choose from one of the two categories I work in and submit before midnight. I look forward to creating content for you.

All the best,

Gloss93'

Yoongi waits a moment to see if he gets a response. Just as he is about to sign off, his computer pings with a new message.

‘Hello Gloss93,

Thank you for the warm welcome. I imagine though, that you do this for all your customers. I know I was supposed to submit a request but honestly, I had a bit of an unconventional one. I was hoping you would accommodate me. I don’t normally surf these sites but you come highly recommended from a very close friend who says you are someone who is incredibly trustworthy. I’ll gladly pay extra. Please let me know if you’re interested. Thanks.

WildGoddess11'

Yoongi chuckles at the message. “Unconventional. What the hell does that mean?” He mumbles to himself. He hums again, sending a message back.

‘WildGoddess11,

I don’t normally take special request. I prefer to stay within the realm of what I normally offer. I am however, intrigued and willing to hear what you have to offer.

Gloss93’

He sits back in his chair, waiting, the anticipation killing him. He shakes his leg frantically, looking at his phone, then putting it down, then picking it up again. Finally, after what feels like forever, his notifications rings. He clicks it immediately.

‘Gloss,

I want, nay, need you to feed a darker side of me. Complete anonymity, 1000 dollars a month for sexual asks. Photos, videos, and phone calls. We don’t need to show our faces, since I can see that’s not your thing and honestly, I prefer that as well. I also ask that you not provide this service to any other clients. I can be a little jealous lol. Like I said you came highly recommended so I trust that we can work together. It won’t change my subscribing to your page if you say no. I understand if this isn’t for you. So, if you do say no, I am down to just submit a normal request. Let me know if you need time to think it over. Thanks.

WildGoddess'

Yoongi’s eyes widen as he reads and re-reads the message in front of him. He doesn’t know how to respond. He has never wanted to delve into this type of thing. Feeling confused, he picks up his phone and calls Hobi. “Hey, I need your advice.” “Sure. What’s up?” “I got a new subscriber today and they are making an unconventional request and I don’t know what to do because I mean, I’m intrigued. No one has ever come to me with something like this before.” “What was the request?” “Sexual asks. 1000 bucks a month.” “Get the fuck out of here! Are you serious? I didn’t think... I mean… I… that’s nuts!” Yoongi’s brow furrows. “Hobi, something I should know? Did you give out my code?” “Uh, no, it’s just that’s a lot of money, I was taken aback. You should just do it.” Yoongi sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t want to get caught up in this type of shit.” “Look, you wouldn’t have called me if you weren’t thinking about it already. Just trust me, you won’t regret this.” Yoongi grunts in frustration. “I better not.” “I’m excited for you.” Yoongi chuckles at Hobi’s comment. “What does that mean Hobi?” “Uh…. nothing…. just that it’s cool you know. 1000 bucks, I don’t even make that much!” Yoongi decides not to question further, instead thinking about Y/N. “Hey, how did the gift go over with Y/N?” “Aw man, she thought it was a prank from me. She freaked! Then she comes out of her room wearing it! Anyway, great choice because she looks great in it.” “She put them on for you?!? What the fuck?” Yoongi whines. “Not for me. In spite of me. Anyway, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.” “Yeah alright.” Yoongi hangs up and types a response. “Here goes nothing.”

Y/N:

Your computer pings with a notification and you jump out of your bed and to your computer. It’s finally a response from Gloss.

‘WildGoddess11,

Let’s do this as a one-month trial period. Like I said before I don’t like to do this type of thing but I have to admit you are the first person to really pique my interest. I’ll allow you to submit me a special request and I’ll send it back to you via private messaging. I encourage you to review some of my past videos, perhaps it’ll motivate you. Happy hunting.

Gloss93'

You squeal, excited that he accepted your request. You had already been looking over his page, making yourself horny watching his hand kink videos and ASMR. He was hot and you had never even seen his face. You had already known exactly what you wanted to ask for. You bite you lip, typing your request.

‘Gloss,

Now that we are nice and established, let’s move past the niceties. I would like to request a dual hand kink/ASMR of you masturbating, I want to hear you moan my name while watching you grasp your sheets for me. Please send soon. My greedy little cunt can hardly contain herself. Also, please send me your information so I may transfer your extra funds. Happy stroking.

WildGoddess'

You bite your lip, excited to see what he has in store for you. “Y/N, I ordered Chinese. You hungry?” Hobi calls to you from behind the door. “Coming.” You respond, closing your laptop and walking out to have dinner with Hobi. “So, did you use that code I gave you?” Hobi ask. “Uh, yeah actually I did.” Hobi’s brows shoot up. “And, how did it go?” “I don’t know what you mean. It’s pretty basic honestly, although not having to pay the yearly membership frees up my funds. Who is this guy anyway? Why do I feel like you’re up to something?” Hobi shrugs. “No one special. Someone I know from the site. Trust that I always have your best interest in mind.” You nod. “Well, I’ll keep you posted on how it goes.” You inform him. He smiles wide, shoving food in his mouth. Your phone vibrates and you look to see a notification from ‘SIO'. You hop in excitement and click it to see a message from Gloss.

‘WildGoddess,

I think that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever read. I’m hard just imagining what your greedy little cunt looks like. You can send me money to my PayMo account, same username, Gloss93. I look forward to working with you. Look for me in your inbox soon enough. Goodnight.

Gloss'

“Good news?” Hobi wiggles his brows at you. “Shut up Hobi. Why don’t you explain to me why you bought that lingerie?” Hobi chews quickly. “Woah, woah, woah. That wasn’t me. I am not your secret admirer ok, I actually voted against you getting that gift.” Your eyes pop open. “Yoongi, that piece of shit!” “What,” Hobi chuckles nervously, “No, who said anything about Yoongi. I didn’t say anything about Yoongi.” Hobi turns pale, eating quickly. “You know Hoseok, you’re a terrible liar. I’m going to kill your friend.” “Come on Y/N, he really likes you. He may be a little, I don’t know, bad, with his approach but he has the best intentions. Give him a chance.” You roll your eyes. You did have a huge crush on him but giving in now would be bad. You just weren’t ready. “Hey, since you’re now a part of ‘SIO’ you wanna come to the annual meet and greet bash they throw?” “Hell no. Isn’t that just some orgy fest?” Hobi laughs loudly. “Well, it can be don’t get me wrong but it’s more so to gain more subscribers and get to know creators you already follow.” “Will Gloss be there? Like does he go?” Hobi’s eyes light up. “Gosh Y/N, you’ve only been subscribed an hour and already you’re addicted huh? He has that effect on people. It’s his voice, I think. Unfortunately, he doesn’t go to any events, he likes anonymity.” You pout a bit. “Well, then, no. I’m good thanks.” “Suit yourself.” You both finish dinner, helping each other clean up. You head off to your room, your phone vibrating. You look to see a notification from ‘SIO’, you plop onto your bed, hands shaking as you open the message.

‘WildGoddess,

This is my first time doing this so I hope it’s good. I must admit I rather enjoyed myself. I hope you will too. Again, welcome to my page. I look forward to working with you. Talk soon.

Gloss’

You grab your headphones, plug them into your phone, and click on the video attached to the note. The camera is pointed at what you imagine is his bed. The sheets are a crisp white. You swallow, your eyes frantically scanning your phone screen when his hand suddenly appears, gliding up the sheet, followed by strained sigh. You feel yourself strain a bit, trying to hear every little thing. Soon, you can hear the sounds of his stroking, the lurid fapping filling your ears, followed by his soft pants. The fingers on his left hand spread wide across the sheet. “Fuck, this feels so good.” You moan at the deep silky sound of his voice filling your right ear. He chuckles into the left ear and you feel a chill travel down your spine causing your back to arch. You focus heavily on the wet sounds filling his room and your ears. He’s stroking so fast now, his breath quickening, pants becoming more desperate. He is sure to move between mics, stimulating both of your ears.

You don’t know when but your hand has made its way into your panties and you whimper touching your swollen bud. “God, I hope you’re touching yourself,” He soon says into your left ear, “filling your tight little cunt up, pretending it’s me. I bet your pussy is so wet right now.” He sniffs into the right ear and you moan loudly into your room. “I bet that cunt smell delicious.” “Fuck!” You cry out, shoving two fingers into your clenching core. You begin to thrust in and out of yourself in conjunction with the delicious sounds of his stroking. He growls into your left ear. “I’m going to cum soon.” Moving to the right ear. “Is that what my greedy WildGoddess wants, my hot cum all over her?” “Yes, yes,” You pant, swirling circles around your bud before returning to your sopping hole, “Please come for me Gloss, please.” You watch as he grips the sheets hard, his veins bulging wildly from the top of his fist. His breath quickens and a relieved groan escapes his throat “Fuuuuuck!” He moans. His climax shooting from off camera onto his clenched fist. The sight causing your cunt to seize wildly around your fingers, your orgasm hits you in a hard crash. You cry his name into the room, your eyes tightly shut, only white bubbles floating in your vision. You soon open your eyes, coming down from your high, the sounds of him giggling gorgeously into the right mic. You look at your phone to see him release his messy fist from around his sheet. “Till next time my WildGoddess.” He declares, shutting the camera off.

Yoongi:

Yoongi rubs his eyes, exhausted from staying up late, hoping to hear from his “WildGoddess” about his video. She never replied, leaving him stuck in his own head all night, tossing and turning. “ICED AMERICANO.” The Barista shouts. Yoongi walks over grabbing his drink with a nod and heads over towards campus kicking himself for agreeing to meet Hobi this early. “Wow! You look like shit.” “Thanks, Hoseok. Not all of us can be a ray of sunshine like you.” “How was last night?” Hobi inquires, wiggling his brows. Yoongi shrugs. “What are you talking about?” “Oh, uh, nothing. Just seeing what you were up to.” Yoongi chuckles, sipping from his drink. “Nothing, I stood up all night, thinking about that goddamn subscriber. She never responded to her video.” Hobi looks at Yoongi with wide eyes. “You sent her a video?” “Yeah, like I do all my subscribers. A welcome video but hers was a little more tailor made if you will. Anyway, she never responded if she liked it or not. I guess I shouldn’t care. She would’ve complained if she didn’t like it.” Hobi nods, then tilts his head, then shrugs. “She liked it.” Yoongi eyes him suspiciously. “Yeah, I guess. Like they say, no news is good news.” “Hey, are you going to go to the Annual meet and greet for ‘SIO' this year.” Hobi asks. Yoongi scoff. “No, I never go to that shit.” “Well, maybe now that you got this mysterious stranger, you know, you would be more interested in it.” “No, we are keeping things anonymous. Just like I like it.” Yoongi clips.

“Well, if you change your mind, I’m going to be going this year.” “You go every year Hoseok, nothing has changed.” Yoongi says. “So, did you happen to take any pictures of Y/N in her gift?” Yoongi asks now. Hobi laughs heartily. “I was in shock at how amazing she looked to be honest. I mean, her ass, AMAZING!” Hobi shakes his head. Yoongi groans, jealous that he wasn’t there to witness her in all her glory. “Why didn’t you drag her along with you today to collect your schedules and pay your school tab off.” “Honestly I don’t know how I can face her after last night.” Yoongi’s ears perk up. “Why? What happened?” Hobi freezes in place, “Uh because of the lingerie thing of course. Why? What did you think?” Yoongi licks his lips, watching Hobi shuffle into the office of the main building. “Hobi, you’re a terrible liar. Did something happen?” “No, of course not. Honestly, it was that. I’ve never seen her so, uh, nude. Yeah, that’s it.” He walks to the secretary at the front desk and asks to pays his student fees. “Cash please and may I have a receipt?” “Sure thing.” She takes his money and prints him a receipt. “Where to now? Breakfast?” Hobi turns to face Yoongi. “How about your place?” He drawls. Hobi chuckles nervously but nods.

Y/N:

You were a panting mess after your third time getting off to the video Gloss sent you. You had been happy when you heard Hobi leave this morning, knowing you could be as loud as you wanted to be. Now, however, you dropped down on your side unable to moved, your battered pussy throbbing, finally allowing your eyes to flutter shut. You feel the edge of your bed shift and you moan unhappily. “You look spent, one would assume you had company last night.” Your eyes pop open to find Yoongi smirking at you from the foot of your bed. You jump up suddenly, tucking your phone and headphones away. “What the fuck are you doing in my room Yoongi?” You seethe, watching him as he eyeballs everything in his surroundings.

“I brought you lunch. Thought you might be hungry.” “OK well, you don’t need to be in here for that so please go.” You wave him off. He smiles seductively, looking at your exposed legs, then up your oversized shirt to your face. “Do you always wear a garter to sleep?” He tilts his head to the side, biting his lip. You look down and quickly tuck the belt under your shirt. “Is that your business Min Yoongi?” He shrugs, dropping his eyes to the ground, bending forward with a suck of his teeth. “They look better with these on.” He whispers, licking his lips. You yank your thong from his fingers, and shove him away. He chuckles, getting up now and moving towards the door. “Has anyone ever told you that you are the most beautiful woman in the world?” “Get the fuck out Yoongi!! HOBI! Come get your friend.” He pouts at you and walks out of your room. You release a sigh, moaning into your hand as you feel your juices coat your cunt. “Fucking Min Yoongi.” You whisper to yourself.

Yoongi:

Yoongi hits refresh for what feels like a hundred times on his ‘SIO' account and nothing. He releases a sigh, whining when Hobi comes around and punches him in the arm. “What was that for?” “Why do you insist on torturing her?” Yoongi can’t help but smile. “She was still wearing the lingerie, well some of it anyhow. Did she have someone over last night? She looked…I don’t know. Satisfied.” Hobi scoffs and shakes his head nervously. “She hasn’t been with someone in a long time. Now please let’s eat.” “I mean you’d tell me, right? If I was wasting my time?” “Oh, so are we now admitting that we have feelings for her and are actively pursuing her?” Hobi snips. Yoongi shrugs. “I’ve always said I had feelings for her. I just never thought I was her type. Not being the point, I don’t want to get involved if she’s involved already.” Hobi shakes his head again. “She’s not. I’d tell you.”

Yoongi sighs in relief, standing straight when Y/N exits her room to join them. She is fully dressed now causing Yoongi to chuckle. “You didn’t have to get all dressed up for me you know. I am all for oversized shirts and no panties.” Yoongi comments. She flips him the bird and walks over to fridge for a beverage. She joins them at the table and they begin to dig into the food. Yoongi watches as Y/N pulls out her phone, stretching a bit as she types, trying to see who she could be texting. “Did you have company last night?” Yoongi inquires. She looks up from her phone at him and smirks. “And what if I did Yoongi?” He shrugs. “Then they are lucky.” She simply laughs but Yoongi feels the sting of jealousy at the thought. He watches as she looks down at her phone. “He would’ve had to crawl up the side of the building because I was right in the living room the whole night.” Hobi interjects. Yoongi’s phone buzzes suddenly and he pulls it out of his pocket. He sits up straight, seeing a notification from SIO.

‘Gloss,

My god! That may have been the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Is it possible for me to think you are so fucking hot without me ever having seen your face? You may or may not have me sprung. I mean, if beating this pussy 3 times can be considered sprung…. what do you think? Sprung off you?

WildGoddess.’

Yoongi chuckles in shock at the message, looking up suddenly at Y/N. She munches away at her lunch and soon realization hits Yoongi. His heart races and he takes to writing a response to confirm his theory.

WildGoddess,

3 times huh? Someone must be spent today. I’m honored. You should be too; They say third time is the charm. I look forward to making all your filthy dreams come true. Sprung on you too?

Gloss.  

Yoongi hits send, waiting anxiously. Suddenly, Y/N’s phone buzzes and he feels the bile rise in his stomach. He shoots a look at Hobi who locks eyes with him in confusion. Yoongi gives him an angered look and Hobi’s face drops. Yoongi turns to face Y/N when he hears her giggle. “Thanks for lunch guys. I gotta go.” She walks off to her room staring at her phone. Once out of ear shot, Yoongi slams his fist on the table making Hobi jump. “What did you do Hoseok?” “I…. I don’t know what you mean?” “Don’t fuck with me. Is it her? The new user? Is it Y/N?” Hobi drops his fork, looking to her bedroom to ensure the door is closed. “She needed a distraction Yoongi.” Yoongi growls at Hobi’s confirmation, dropping his head in his hands. “I didn’t want to connect with her this way. We have to tell her.” Yoongi gets up and walks towards her room. “No, no, no,” Hobi almost shrieks, yanking Yoongi back to the table, “Look you said you like her. She likes you. She’s just scared ok. This is the perfect opportunity for the two of you to get to know one another without any pressure involved.” “No, only the pressure of a 1000-dollar payment every month.” “Ok, I didn’t anticipate that. Just don’t accept the money. She doesn’t know it’s you she’s talking to. Take her on some dates, then spill the beans but don’t do it now. She’ll kill us both!” “The longer I wait the worse this is Hobi. It’s betraying her trust.” “No, no. Look you’re getting caught up on semantics. I know her best ok. It’s better if she slowly comes out of her shell and this is the perfect way to do that. Trust me. I know what I am doing.” “If this goes south Hobi and believe me it will. I’m throwing you under the bus, better yet, driving it over you.” Yoongi declares in a huff, storming out of the apartment before he changes his mind.

[letterboxd]

In Focus: The Truman Show.

Inspired by Letterboxd data that revealed it to be a lockdown favorite, editor-at-large Dominic Corry looks at the ever-evolving importance of contemporary masterpiece The Truman Show.

It has long been apparent that The Truman Show is an unnervingly prescient film. The story of a man who becomes aware that his superficially idyllic life is, in fact, a live-streamed television show has gone from being high-concept to every-day.

Thanks to the three Ps—the prevalence of mass urban surveillance, the proliferation of reality television and the pervasiveness of video in social media—the notion of cameras filming our every move is no longer a paranoid fantasy, but real life. The twist being that, for the most part, we all willingly signed up for it, and did all the filming ourselves. As Yi Jian saliently observes in his review: “Not to get all ‘we live in a society’ on Letterboxd but I know a person or two in real life that would actually give anything to trade lives with Truman, it do be like that sometimes”. It indeed do, Yi Jian.

So it’s something of a cliché at this stage to point out how we are all living in some version of the The Truman Show, and you don’t have to be a member of the royal family to feel that way. Yet, somehow, the film has become even more pertinent over the last eighteen months. And it’s a pertinence reflected in the massive uptick in viewership for the film as seen in Letterboxd activity.

During the month of February 2020, the last moment of the Before Times, The Truman Show had a modest 1,235 diary entries. That number tripled in April of that year, by which time the seriousness of the pandemic had become clear. And by July, deep in the worst of the pandemic, Truman fervor peaked, with a further 178 percent leap over April’s numbers, firmly placing it in the top 200 films watched by our members in a year of lockdown. (By the way, ‘diary entries’ mean activity where the member has added a watched date; many thousands more also marked Truman as ‘watched’ in those dark months, but didn’t specify a date.)

It’s not difficult to imagine why we might become more interested in revisiting this eminently re-visitable film. During lockdown, social media—including Letterboxd—took on a greater presence in terms of how we communicated with each other. We got used to seeing footage of faces more than actual faces. We were all the stars of our own ‘Truman Show’, and simultaneously the audience of everyone else’s ‘Truman Show’.

Christian Torres boiled it down effectively when he wrote: “Now every movie I see seems to be related to my life in quarantine. I am Truman and I want to escape.” And Sonya Sandra eloquently captured the film’s increased contemporary significance in her review: “This is a real-life daylight horror film. The best kind. Even more relevant in 2021 than ever. We are all Truman, we all want to find what is real in our fake lives filled with media, capitalism and ideology. And it’s our job to fight the storm and get to the truth of it all. Nothing is real, everything is for profit, and everyone is selfish. Go out and find what is real, because it’s definitely not here.”

With its deft, dazzling blending of the profound and the humorous, the optimistic and the cynical, it’s difficult to think of anything released since The Truman Show that comes as close as it does to being a modern-day Frank Capra movie. It’s hopeful, but has its eyes wide open. There’s a darkness in the themes of the film that is never replicated in the colors on display.

While everyone involved delivers career-best work, we must principally credit the triumvirate of talent at the center of the film: director Peter Weir, screenwriter Andrew Niccol and star Jim Carrey.

Star Jim Carrey and director Peter Weir on the set of ‘The Truman Show’ (1998).

Weir is a director who inspires much online love whenever his name is mentioned, but he isn’t really mentioned all that often. Or at least as often as he should be. The Australian filmmaker has delivered masterpieces across multiple genres, and it’s extremely sad that he hasn’t directed a movie since 2010’s not-quite-true World War II drama The Way Back, arguably one of his lesser works. That’s also, insanely, one of only two movies he’s made since Truman, the other being Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, the wide and rabid affection for which regularly kicks up on Twitter (not to mention demand for a sequel).

Weir doesn’t do many interviews, and while this 2018 Vanity Fair article marking Truman’s twentieth anniversary has many quotes about the film’s modern relevance, Weir doesn’t offer any commentary to that effect, presumably preferring to let the work speak for itself—though in this 1998 interview he did talk about the relationship between the media, the general public and the people we become fascinated with, as a “complex situation”.

The Vanity Fair article does, however, reveal a fascinating ‘what if’ scenario relating to Christof, the god-like director of the in-movie TV show played by Ed Harris, who offers up a pile of pretentious auteur clichés: mononymous, beret, etc. (beyond the whole god thing, that is). When Dennis Hopper, originally cast in the role, wasn’t working out, Weir considered playing the role himself, which would’ve added yet another meta layer. It brings to mind how George Miller styled Immortan Joe (played by Hugh Keays-Byrne) after himself in Mad Max: Fury Road, or how Christopher Nolan’s haircut shows up in most of his films.

Ed Harris as Christof in ‘The Truman Show’ (1998).

And, at one point, it could have gone mega-meta. Weir, in the 1998 interview, talked about a “crazy idea” he had, a technical impossibility back then but easily achievable with live-streaming now. “I would have loved to have had a video camera installed in every theater the film was to be seen [in]. At one point, the projectionist would … cut to the viewers in the cinema and then back to the movie. But I thought it was best to leave that idea untested.” Imagine.

Weir also played a role in helping to shape the originally much more overtly dark screenplay into the cheerier (on the surface at least) shooting script, which is solely credited to fellow antipodean, New Zealand-born Niccol, also a producer on the film. Both men have done the majority of their work in America, but it’s tempting to credit the film’s tone-perfect sense of heightened Americana to the degree of separation offered by their foreign provenance. In any case, it’s clear that open-air mall designers were paying attention.

Niccol’s original screenplay made his name in Hollywood, and revealed a storyteller excited by big ideas. He moved into directing with the smaller-scale Gattaca, released a year prior to Truman (itself delayed to meet Carrey’s availability). Niccol’s subsequent filmography includes several legit bangers (Lord of War hive step up!), and his endearing dedication to lofty allegories in a genre setting makes him an increasingly rare breed in Hollywood.

Like Weir, he is not the greatest fan of giving interviews, but the Vanity Fair piece quotes him making an interesting point: “When you know there is a camera, there is no reality,” thereby making Truman “the only genuine reality star.”

It’s a sentiment echoed by MusicMoviesMe, who writes that “‘Truman Show’ beats all other reality shows out there like Bachelors, Survivors and Kardashians. Come on, when you know there’s a camera at your tail, there’s no reality. So yes, Truman beats all reality shows out there bar none!”

The role was perfectly suited to Jim Carrey’s affected mannerisms, and his status as one of the world’s biggest stars meant he could relate to Truman more than most people. Then, at least. Nowadays, of course, we are all Truman.

“It is always incredible to see how far The Truman Show was ahead of [its] time,” observes The Closer79. “In a world where celebs are monitored 24/7 and we are showered with unnecessary private information on the web, where talent-free wannabes become famous and where you sometimes [wonder] what kind of surreal show society you are in—Truman and his fake show life cleverly have anticipated all of this. Only Truman knew nothing of his luck and he was granted an escape from his glass prison. We don’t really have this possibility… Aren’t we all Truman? Sometimes even voluntarily…”

Austin Burke concurs: “I have always known that I really enjoyed this film, but I had no clue that it would hold up so well years later… Could this be because the strange world that he finds himself in is far more similar to our world today? Possibly, but the idea and themes are so much more relevant now compared to when this originally released.” And while DallasFrance is conscious of piling on about the film’s prescience, his review highlights how there really is no limit to the film’s meta qualities:

“Instead of writing a review about how this film predicted social media, or how we’re all Truman, or yadda yadda yadda, I’ll instead fixate on the miraculous fact that two absolute legends were cast as primary viewers of the Truman Show:

1. The old lady from The Running Man who starts betting on Ben Richards (Arnold Schwarzenegger). ‘He’s one bad motherf*cker!’

2. The villain from The Karate Kid Part II:

‘Live or die, man?!’ ‘Die!’ ‘Wrong!’ *hooooonnnkkk*

I’ve never seen either of these actors in any other roles. With the second one, I felt like I was watching a character from my childhood watch a character from his childhood come to realizations about the characters in his childhood. So actually… the movie’s really about me.”

Never change, LB membership.

We are all generally pretty aware of how ahead of its time The Truman Show was, but that doesn’t lessen its impact. Maddie’s review shows that there’s always some new angle to consider: “Imagine being an extra in this movie… You would be an extra, playing an actor, playing an extra. Think about that long enough and tell me that doesn’t make you want to walk into the ocean.”

Kev goes even further: “Watching other people watch somebody else while also watching that person while also watching the person watching over that person is a great reminder that watching is weird, and to be watched is to not own yourself. Don’t watch, don’t try to be watched. Just live.”

Or perhaps Will encapsulates the film’s ability to present an ever-evolving message best, writing that, “clearly, this is video proof that we live in a simulation.” Beyond mere prescience, The Truman Show is a telling mirror to whatever era it is viewed in. Its message will continue to evolve.

Now that we’re finally (touch wood) emerging from the pandemic, it will be fascinating to see what The Truman Show has to say about its audience and the world they live in, in years to come. Rest assured, it will be well-documented by you, the Letterboxd audience.

Also: can Peter Weir please make another movie? Like, seriously.

Related content

A Meta-Reality: Robert’s list of layers of film in life and life in film

Follow Dom on Letterboxd

[ak8shi]

Kuroo + Iwaizumi: HQ boys as workout instructors series

Suga + Bokuto ver.

warnings: light swearing!!

Kuroo Tetsurou

Your friend somehow convinces you to go to a kickboxing class, bribing you with ice cream afterwards

You: …what do you mean I have to leave my bed

Honestly you’re scared because you’re out of shape and definitely nothing close to a regular at the gym

You arrive at the gym with your friend, and you enter the kickboxing room

There’s around 15 people in the class, but the instructor hasn’t arrive yet

You stretch with your friend, mentally preparing yourself to absolutely die LMAO

Around five minutes before the class begins, this tall guy walks in with a duffel bag

To put it simply, HE WAS BEAUTIFUL,, and you definitely weren’t the only one looking

As he puts his things down in the corner, you can see his back muscles flexing under his tight black shirt he just hits so different in all black I’m about to bark

He takes out his boxing tape, wrapping his hands in it, and then he introduces himself,,,

“Hi everyone, welcome to beginning kickboxing! My name is Kuroo, and I’m going to be helping everyone with drills throughout the class. Let me know if you need anything before we begin.”

Let’s be honest, Kuroo’s workout playlist BANGS,, he’s a big fan of Roddy Ricch, J.Cole, Nicki, Kendrick, Meg, and Travis

You, praying: can I not embarrass myself in front of this man thanks !

He puts the music on, instructing everyone through a warm-up from the front of the studio

Kuroo is such a great teacher, and he somehow makes it so fun and engaging, king shit!!

Ugh he has such great energy and gets everyone encouraged and pumped up, he’s also SO smiley and approachable

After the warm up, everyone slips on their gloves with ease, ofc,,, except for you

Dear god he’s about to start and you’re not ready

Your friend isn’t helping you, she wants you to ask for help LMAOOO

You finally suck it up and raise your hand, and he walks over to you

Kuroo: hey can I help you out with that?

You: WHY IS HE SO HOT?? AND RESPECTFUL????

He carefully helps you get the gloves onto your hands, making sure you’re comfy before jogging back up to the front of the classroom you blacked out for a few minutes

He takes everyone through the movements, starting basic with how to hit the bag, posture, and form

Kuroo eventually gives everyone drills to do, and he walks around the room to see if anyone needs assistance

You’re trying your best and really getting into it, until he walks around and gives you a cute smile and a thumbs up please how am I supposed to focus on not dying when you’re like this sir

Your friend is nudging you,,,

“dude he’s totally into you, I’ve taken classes with him before and he doesn’t do that to just anyone”

Your stomach is erupting in butterflies at her words or maybe you’re trying not to yak, but you’re trying not to get your hopes up

The class is coming to an end, and it somehow went by so fast?? Maybe because you spent half of it staring at Kuroo’s arms as he hits the punching bag

You are super sweaty but the workout was refreshing and you definitely want to try kickboxing again ,,, especially if Kuroo is the instructor

He gets the attention of the class after going through a cool-down routine

“Thank you so much for being amazing everyone! I hope to see some of you in my intermediate level classes, or just around the gym in general, don’t be a stranger!”

You start to pack up your things, everyone else besides your friend and Kuroo having left the room

Your friend suddenly: bye! It was so nice meeting you today sis! Text me when you get home!

SHE LEFT YOU I-

You’re confused for a second since she literally drove you to the gym, but before you can say anything someone is tapping your shoulder

You turn around,,,shaking in your boots,,,, Kuroo is standing there with his bag slung around his shoulder, wiping his face with a towel

He looks so good sweaty please

Him: hey, was this your first session? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in any of my classes… I definitely would’ve remembered you ;) we all know he practiced this in his head for the entirety of the class because he’s a DORK in actuality

Bro all you can do is squeak out a “yes”

He asks for your number, and offers to train you personally at the gym,, HOT

You walk out of the building a blushing mess, and then you see your friend sitting outside in her car LMAO

Her, as you get in the passenger seat: so,, did you secure the bag

You: WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME

Her: I did what I had to do get you a friend

Iwaizumi Hajime

So you’re a regular at the gym, but you haven’t really tried any of the classes offered through your membership

You sign up for a spin class that takes place every Wednesday morning, thinking it would be nice to get a workout in before work

It was not

You had to wake up at 5 am to eat something and get dressed for the class, and you find yourself dragging yourself into the locker rooms to put your things away

With sleep still evident in your features, you go to sit at one of the spin machines, resting your head on the handle waiting for impending doom

A guy walks in rocking an all-white and grey fit and puts his things down next to you, but you don’t really pay attention to him or make an effort to look at him properly

Everyone slowly trickles into the spin room, chatting amongst themselves and you’re not really sure how anyone is functioning this early

Then,, the dude next to you stands up and turns around, speaking into his head set

“Good morning everyone, welcome to intermediate spin, my name is Iwaizumi and I will be your instructor! Please be ready to go in five minutes,”

You didn’t even realize you sat next to the instructor seat lmao, and you’re stunned by how nice the man’s voice is!!! Not only did he have a nice voice, but you also overlooked him as an instructor because he was so young looking

So once everyone is ready to go, he hops onto the bike next to you

His playlist consists of Bad Bunny, electronic, and a lot of RnB the taste jumped out

As you start the machine and it shows the route that the bike is supposed to take, Iwa starts talking about the goal of the workout and the motivation its going to take to finish

We love a professional !!!

The class is hard; mostly because it’s your first time but you make it through thanks to Iwaizumi’s skilled teaching style, and the way he doesn’t leave anyone behind even if they are struggling

It also helped that he was next to you most of the session you could see every droplet of sweat on his beautiful face and tanned arms

You feel great after every session, feeling like you’re accomplishing something, and you get to see your little crush every Wednesday

It definitely makes it easier to get out of bed in the morning

You make small talk with Iwa since he’s right next to you, and slowly it progresses into a really nice friendship

You help him set-up and clean-up the room before and after class, and he brings you coffee in return (he knows your order by heart🥰)

Him: good morning

You: fuck off loser👹

Him: I brought you coffee

You: ☺️hey Iwa

He’s honestly so great at his job, and he tells you that he got into cycling because of the side-training he did for volleyball

One session near the end of the cycling classes, you were having a rough time and in a bad mood because of work, and Iwa lowkey helped you work through it within that one workout session and you felt so much better by the end of it how does he do it

You, dying: Iwa I can’t go on

Him: You fucking panini head who said you were allowed to stop

The forty year old soccer mom on the other side of him: Iwa I can’t go on

Him: You’re doing amazing sweetie! Don’t hurt yourself, you got this!😘

…t-that’s when you realize you have feelings for him, but you’re not really sure how to go about telling him

You stress over it for the next week, and in no time you find yourself walking into your last class with Iwa as your instructor sad girl hours

You had bought him a sweatband as a joke and embroidered his initials on it, and you were planning on giving it to him at the end of class

He greets you the same as usual, and then turns and thanks everyone for sticking with the class

The session is amazing of course, but you’re feeling such a mix of emotions as the seconds on your machine dwindle down to 0:00

A few people come up to Iwa to thank him, and you purposely pack up your things and stretch super slowly

Finally, you are the only two people left in the room

He finishes cleaning off the seats, and then he turns to you as you’re turning the machines off,

His steel eyes are boring into you, and he’s cracking his knuckles nervously

“h-hey, would you maybe want to go out with me sometime?”

NOT WHAT YOU WERE EXPECTING-

You blush,, but in the best way possible;

You reach over to pinch his rosy cheek, obviously saying yes

You reach into your bag and throw the sweatband at him

He catches it, laughing as he admires the stitchwork on it

Him, knowing you embroidered it yourself: omg aw did Helen Keller stitch this?😍

You: for personal reasons I will be revoking my agreement to go on any kind of date with you

Before you leave the gym with your fresh coffee, you give him a kiss on the cheek and he literally can not stop thinking about how crazy he is about you !!

[dirtycccat]

since i started posting my other fanfic here already have my first one ever too my dudes.

pairings: lucifer / mc

words: 3k

genre: soft romance and,,,, jazz

ao3 link

You knew you were late when you reached the front of the door to the secret study and could already hear a soft melancholic piano tune coming from the inside. You knew he was going to be angry, but you truly only had good intentions, so maybe he will understand your reasons once he saw what you brought.

The door was unlocked just for you, but you still knocked softly before pushing you way in, even though you were certain he could already sense your presence.

“You’re late.”

Lucifer was looking at you from his place at his desk, arms crossed and a slight scowl on his face. He must have been working prior to your entrance as the sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up, tie and jacket placed neatly somewhere else. You weren’t usually late, especially since you knew it annoyed him when people didn’t respect plans he was a part of. This time though it just happened.

“I know, I’m sorry, but! I have a good reason."

You went to the table that sat in front of the fireplace and dramatically dropped the heavy bag you were carrying on it and made a show to attract his attention.

“...what is that?”

“Remember how last time I told you about how there were a few artists from the human world that, although they aren’t classical composers, they still have some great songs that I’m sure you would enjoy?  Wellllll I may or may not have asked Levi to help me order their records and since he has premium memberships on almost all sites, his stuff gets delivered faster! They just arrived today that’s why I was late, but, hey, at least now we can listen to them together!”

Lucifer was staring at you with a mixture of surprise and something else you couldn’t really name. …He kept staring at you until you started to feel a bit embarrassed, and the silence created by the record reaching its end didn’t help.

“...uh I mean it’s fine if you don’t want to listen to them. We can listen to your collection, I don’t really mind, it’s just that I thought it would be nice to show you some cool human artists…”

“MC.”

You stopped babbling and looked at him once more. He wasn’t scowling anymore, nor did he look annoyed at all. Instead he just smiled at you, one of his true smiles that reached his eyes and made him look soft (something you could never tell him or else there would be consequences).

“MC of course I remember you talking about them. You started ranting about how much you missed them and how you would love for us to listen to them together. And of course I would love nothing else but to spend my evening with you and some fine tunes from those artists you so much love, since you praised them so highly. ...I was just shocked because I wanted to order the records myself, but It seems I was too slow.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh indeed. “

You could feel your cheeks getting warm from his sudden confession. You didn’t think he’d pay that much attention to the things you said. Nor did you think he would consider your opinion so highly that he'd go as far as to buy the things you recommended.

“Since you brought the records you can put whichever you desire first, and of course you can choose our music for the rest of the evening as well." He smiled as he finished talking and you smiled back at him, cheeks still red and heart pounding in your chest. You searched through the contents of your bag until you found what you were looking for, then went to the gramophone that he kept on the fireplace. You smirked while putting the first record on, thinking about his reaction to what was about to come.

As you turned back, you saw that Lucifer was now sitting on one the armchairs close to the table and had already poured a glass of red Demonus for himself and some wine for you. You gladly took your glass as you sat yourself in the other chair.

You both sipped your drinks and listened to the music around you in a comfortable, familiar silence. Usually on days like these, Lucifer was at his desk doing paperwork while you were lounging in one of the plush armchairs by the fireplace, either just listening to the music, reading or doing schoolwork. This time though, it seemed like Lucifer decided to finish work early and just sit together with you and enjoy the tunes.

The first song was upbeat, with a mix of piano, trumpets and the soft husky voice of Chet Baker. You knew these records mixed songs with different vibes which confused people that didn’t know the artists, a thing on which you depended this time. You couldn’t wait to get to the more romantic but still melancholic songs that were his trademark, songs which always made you feel things even when you used to listen to them back in the human world.

You kept trying to steal glances at Lucifer to see if he was feeling those emotions too as the songs changed to the more tender ones you knew and loved. But you figured it was not going to be easy to catch him showing feelings, especially the ones you were interested in seeing tonight. Still, you enjoyed even just getting the chance to look at him, unguarded and relaxed, his face lit up by the soft crackling fire inside of the hearth.

Here, in the place he felt the safest, his posture would sometimes be less rigid, shoulders less straight, face from time to time relaxed into a smile. During your weekly meetings you could sometimes even hear him hum pieces from his records under his breath or tap his pen on beat with the music. On one particular occasion you even caught him waltzing alone, a thing of which you never spoke of again, since he gave you a long threatening stare when he realized you caught him in the act.

When it was time to turn the record to its other side, you quickly deposited your empty glass and went to the gramophone. In passing you looked at Lucifer who was staring into space, red eyes glazed over in a dazed look, appearing lost in thought, until he caught your glance and gave you his usual self-assured smile, inviting you to say something if you dared.

The second side of the record was what you were excited for. Or more likely there was that one song you wanted to hear. You missed it so much you gasped audibly when it finally came on. You didn’t know if it was the wine, the soft, warm atmosphere tinged with a smell of fire, cinnamon and wine or your emotions, but you couldn’t contain yourself and kept mouthing the lyrics under your breath while you mimed singing into a microphone and moved from side to side with the music. At one point while doing your little singing and dancing you looked over at Lucifer, remembering he was near you and was probably shocked by your unusual behavior. But instead of being disappointed or shocked he was just looking at the fireplace with an amused expression on his face, trying to cover his smile with his free hand. When he realized you were watching him he turned his eyes to you, still trying to hide his expression with the hand that was holding his head upright. As you looked at him closely you realized his cheeks were redder than usual.

“What’s wrong, MC? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what? Sorry, I just wanted to know what you thought of the music. That was one of my favorite songs by this artist and also one of his most popular back in the human world. ”

“It is quite good, I have to admit," he looked more serious and thoughtful as he answered.  "It’s somehow similar but also different from what we usually listen to together.”

“Right!? It’s so gooood. And this man can just makes you feel things with his soft, sad but romantic voice and his trumpet and those lyrics… It’s just amazing."

“...should I be jealous of him, MC?” Lucifer smirked.

“What?” You stopped and stared at him, cheeks getting a bit redder, while he just gave you his smug look, proud of having made you embarrassed.

“I jest. It seems that the record finished. What exciting things are you going to have us experience together next, MC, hmm?” He leaned back, getting more comfortable in his armchair, legs crossed and glass of red Demonus in one hand as he looked at you.

You realized he was right and that It has gotten a bit too silent in the room. You got up to look at the records on the table and chose your next one. This one you were excited to hear as well since it’s been so long since you got the chance to.

You changed the records, making sure to put the one that finished back in its respective cover while treating it carefully. Before, you scolded Lucifer for changing records with magic when he was busy, since they were so fragile and easy to break or scratch. He didn’t take it well back then, telling you that he was older and he handled records long before you were born and that he couldn’t be bothered to get up and stop his work each time a record finished because anyways if something happened he could purchase a replacement, but nowadays you saw him usually change them by hand, especially when you were in the room with him, which made you giddy.

This record started with an upbeat song as well, but you knew that what you were waiting for were her other songs, the ones with the sad poetical lyrics sang in the husky, but powerful tones of Nina Simone, accompanied by a soft piano. There was especially one song you couldn’t wait to hear, and it just so happened to be on the second side as well, so for now you had to wait.  

As you sat back down you took a sip of your newly poured wine. Lucifer, who was sipping his own drink suddenly glanced at you.

“So, tell me, MC, what made you choose these particular records?”

“Well, I thought you would enjoy them since they aren't that different from the records you seemed to like. They both have a layered instrumental background and invoke strong emotions in the listener. I mean that’s what I gathered you enjoyed from what we listen to so far.”

“Hmm, actually I heard the work of these artists before, but It seems I have forgotten about them. I guess it just wasn’t the right time for it back then.”

You stared at him, trying to figure out what he implying. You tried to keep things more or less friendly between the two of you since he didn’t give you any clear indication that he wanted something else and you didn’t want to impose or make things awkward because of your crush. So you guessed he couldn’t be talking about something related to you, could he?

“...and now it is?” you asked sheepishly.

He faked looking thoughtful while keeping his smile on his face as he responded, “What do you suppose, is it?”

Of course he didn’t want to truly give you an answer, when has he ever given you a straightforward answer before? So you just looked at him, trying to guess what he meant, but of course you couldn’t since Lucifer had centuries of experience in hiding his emotions. Still, you realized you could see a certain warmth there, in his eyes and in the soft wrinkles that formed when he smiled. Maybe the alcohol got to him too, or you were both standing too close to the fireplace, because you saw his cheeks were stained crimson and you felt yours must be the same.

…after reaching the third record of the night, and your third glass of wine, you were in a good enough mood to move around with the music until you suddenly remembered something

“Lucifer.”

“Yes?”

“You know how to dance right?”

He was wearing one of his proud smiles, but clearly he didn't understand why you were asking him this out of the blue.

“...of course I do.”

You got up and extended your hand to him. He looked at it suspiciously, until he understood what you were getting at and took it.

“...I see. I hope you know how to dance as well,” he said smiling.

…you did not know how to dance but you did watch tutorials on Deviltube when you remembered dancing exists or when you wanted a fun workout, so how hard could it be to do it with someone else? Lucifer put his hand on your lower back before you could decide if you wanted to lead or not, making this decision for you today. You accepted his choice and placed your hand on his shoulder. From this close you could feel his body heat in the places where your bodies connected, and smell the sweet and spicy scent of smoke and alcohol coming from him.

Lucifer began leading you, taking small steps to the right and then to the left at first, but once he saw you were following him well enough and not stepping on his toes, he started taking bolder strides. You tried your best to follow his movements and let him lead you around the room on beat with the music that was softly coming from the gramophone on the fireplace. In the beginning, you kept looking at your feet, wanting to make sure you wouldn't miss a step and stumble, but once you got comfortable enough with the rhythm you were building, you moved your gaze to his face and realized he was already watching you with a warm smile  and soft eyes. Before the last song ended he spun you around and ended your dance with a dip. You both stood there transfixed, looking into each other's eyes, neither of you wanting the moment to end.

"You're looking at me like you want something, MC," Lucifer whispered in the space between you. "What is it you want from me?"

Feeling bold and trusting he wouldn't let you fall, you freed one of your hands and gently held his chin, thumb lightly brushing his lower lip.

"...I think you know what I want," you answered softly in return. "But what about you, Lucifer. What is it that you want?"

He brought his face close enough to yours that you could feel his words on your lips. His eyes were still locked onto yours, looking alive and alight.

"I wonder, what do you think is it that I desire?"

Realizing that he wasn't going to make the first move himself, you gathered up your courage and brought your lips together. You swore you could hear him give a soft moan as your lips met, but before you could react he was kissing you back hungrily, like he had been waiting for this for some time now. He used the hand that you just freed to gently cup the back of your skull, the other one that was holding the small of your back pulling your body flush against his. As he deepened the kiss, you could feel his sharp teeth grazing your bottom lip and felt yourself whimper. You sensed Lucifer grin against your lips when he heard the sound you just made, his smugness just encouraging you to get back at him by biting his lip too, which got you a sharp inhale from the demon that did not expect your retaliation. When he finally let go of your mouth, giving you a moment to catch your breath, you realized he was still dipping you and that you were in the same exact position you started in: with both of you looking into each other's eyes, but instead of longing the two of you were now staring with soft awe at one another. You started giggling, realizing the hilarity of the situation. Seeing you laugh, Lucifer just gave you a confused smile.

"Why are you laughing, my dear?"

Your heart swelled at the pet name, but you continued, the hand that was still holding his chin going to cup his cheek. You tried to stop your laughing and use the most serious tone you could muster in this situation.

"Lucifer."

"Yes?"

"Did I truly just had to seduce you with jazz records and slow dancing to make you admit you wanted us to kiss?"

You started laughing again as soon as you finished talking. Lucifer looked a bit shocked by your words at first, but then joined in with your laughter.

"I guess you did. You truly are a weird human being, dearest."

"You love it though."

"I wonder, do I?" He grinned as he gracefully let you put your feet down and finally hold your own weight. You both looked at each other with matching loopy smiles and red cheeks as you stood there, face to face, bodies still very close.

"So, MC, did you bring any other records you would like us to listen to this fine evening?"

"Of course I did, did you think that was it?"

...this time, when you came back from changing the records, Lucifer was sitting on the chaise longue instead of his usual armchair and pat the place besides him when he saw you looking confused at his change of place. Understanding what he meant, you took a place besides him and let your head rest on his shoulder, to which he responded by put his arm around your back, letting you lean against him more comfortably. Feeling very full at how soft he was being, you gave him a quick peck on his cheek, just because you could do that now.

"...so tell me, since when did you want to kiss me?" you asked him with barely contained curiosity.

"You'll have to figure that out for yourself, dear," he responded, looking at you with a mischievous flicker in his eyes.

"That's not very fair."

"You love it though."

"I wonder, do I?" you answered him back with the same words he used on you, feeling a smug grin forming on your lips.

[nad-zeta]

Hello, hello, hello! I loved your head canons about the warlords' ages and I wonder if you can write head canons of the warlords' profession, not in modern AU but the warlords deciding to go to the future with MC and well, the profession they would have!! Thank you so muuuuuuuuuch. 💕

Hi hi, love! 🌻Thank you sooo much for the ask! This is legit my third time writing this up, the first time I did this, I forgot to save the word file, and the second time my laptop crashed right after I finished writing it😭....... But finally, here it is🌻! I’m so happy you liked my HC, I hope you enjoy this one, and I hope you have a good day! ❤🔥

Headcanon: Warlords and their future jobs 

Nobunaga

I think the second Nobunaga arrives in the future he would become a businessman

He would start off small from your apartment, but within the month he will turn into the biggest corporate leader, having thousands of people working under him

He would spend the first few weeks just chilling in the future with you but soon start to get bored

He would also, low key feel like its wrong for you to be supporting both of you

He does some research on stock trading and then starts playing around with your life savings

Good thing for you, Nobunaga is a clever man, and he manages to triple the money in a week by playing around on the stock market

He uses the income made, to start a small business, which soon starts growing at the speed of light

This man will not be able to work for someone so I can definitely see him being the CEO of his own company

He will be the ruler of the corporate world in no time

It’s pretty funny how in the span of a year he has earned the old name he once carried in the past “Devil king.”

Masamune

This is a no brainer

Obviously he will be a chef

I think he would start off small like finding a job at a local café but then soon take the culinary world by storm

It started off when the two of you went to eat at one of your favourite cafes

He enjoyed the food so much, he couldn’t help but pop into the kitchen to thank the chef (◕‿◕✿)

The kitchen was absolute mayhem and the chef had told him that he was very short-staffed

And that is how Masa got his first future job

He worked in the café for a few months picking up experience and learning to use all the futuristic equipment

From there, he bounced around from place to place learning all sorts of cool culinary techniques

I think at the end of the day he will most likely open his own restaurant

One that specializes in authentic Japanese cuisine

Hell I wouldn’t be surprised if he opened a branch of the restaurant in Nobunagas company

Mitsunari

I can see this cutie angel being a teacher or professor

I think he would be a great academic and educator

I can actually, see this boi being a professor teaching all sorts of subjects from statistics to the art of war ヾ(●ε●)ノ

The first few weeks of being in the future with you, he spends in the library absorbing as much knowledge as possible

One day while he is sitting and reading up on every and any subject, he overhears a group of struggling professors at a nearby table

Apparently they had been trying to solve a certain equation for months now but to no luck (ﾉಠдಠ)ﾉ︵┻━┻

Mitsunari walks up to the group and cheerily asks if he can be of some assistance (◕ᴗ◕✿)

Usually the group would just laugh and chase the random stranger away but desperate times…

They hand Mitsunari the equation and this clever boi takes one look at it and starts writing out the answer

The math professors were sister shook… Like he didn’t even freaken, need a calculator (◯Δ◯∥)

They legit offered him a job as a lecturer and he soon becomes the students’ favourite absent minded professor (◕‿◕✿)

I think he will most definitely also publish a few research papers as well and contribute to the body of knowledge in all sorts of subjects

Ieyasu

Also super easy he will either be a vet or a doctor although I am leaning more towards veterinarian cause of his love for animals

He will most likely join Mitsunari in university, cause he is a super-smart porcupine he will become a certified vet in no time

Also spends the first few weeks of being in the future at the library absorbing as much medical knowledge as possible

He gets the idea of becoming a vet after watching a bunch of animal rescue shows on the national geographic channel 

While you are at work he starts volunteering at an animal rescue during the day to pass the time

That is where he met one of the vets that help out at the rescue in their free time, he legit liked Ieyasu so much he took him on as an apprentice, while Ieyasu was busy completing his studies

Later on he will most likely have his own veterinary practise

I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he starts his own animal rescue on the side as well

Within two years the two of you move to live on a big plot with all yours and Ieyasus rescued pets

Hideyoshi

Hideyoshi could go one of two ways hehe 

If Nobunaga comes to the future with yall then you best be sure this boy is ganna help Nobunaga rule the corporate world

Buuuut if it’s just the two of you, I 100% see him becoming a primary school teacher

Like he would just be so good with kids

He is basically trademarked as mama hen anyways, so why not put him in a primary school to teach lil chics

I think he would be such a good teacher, supportive, kind, and patient

He has enough practise lecturing Nobunaga for bad behaviour, so he might as well put that to good use correcting the behaviours of troublesome kids

He gets into teaching when your sister drops her kid off at your apartment to babysit

You had work, so the only one that could care for the child was, the mother hen himself

He sat and taught the little boy how to read and write, this impressed your sister so much that she recommended him for the position of substitute English teacher at her child’s school

At first Hideyoshi worked as a substitute teacher, but soon he became the designated aftercare teacher and within a few months he was teaching his own class

The children absolutely adored him although they would sneak behind the school building to eat candy cause, they didn’t want to get yet another lecture from Yoshi on the negative health consequences of their favourite sugary treats

Mitsuhide

100% detective (¬‿¬)

I mean can you just imagine how sexy he would look in a trenchcoat… like OMW (づ￣ ³￣)づ

The first few weeks of spending time with you in the future you introduce him to CSI and Law and order and he is super fascinated

You are so amazed by the fact that he can figure out who the perp is 5 minutes into the show

The crime in your neighbourhood was pretty bad, but since Mitsuhide’s arrival something crazy happened 

The crime seemed to disappear. 

Like no more robberies, no more drunks walking up and down the street, just peaceful quiet calm neighbourhood 

One day as the two of you were buying snacks for your CSI bingeing session, two armed men came into the convenience store 

You looked over at your lover who seemed completely unphased, like one of the robbers were legit pointing a gun in his face, yet Mitsuhide looked uninterested

Within a blink of an eye, Mitushide managed to disarm the men and tie them up 

The police were hella impressed with the way Mitsuhide handled things 

He helped the police department solve a few petty crimes in your neighbourhood and soon they started calling him up, to help them crack some difficult cases

After a while he becomes the most famous and popular detective in town

The government low key recruits him as an agent to help them

Kenshin

Again I don’t see Kenshin working for anyone

I think the first few weeks the two of you arrive, bunnies start following him around

Looks like the bunny lord is never safe from the love of the cute fluffy creatures 

The two of you will definitely be living on a bunny farm

Kenshin, although he doesn’t admit it, has a soft spot for the cute fluffy creatures 

So the bunny farm is actually more of a bunny rescue although that’s just his part-time job

As he adapts to the future, I can see the farm transforming into being a bunny and sake farm

Lol Kenshin loves Sake so much 

He knows how good sake should taste, so naturally he starts to make his own and sell it

This starts one day when a friend of yours invites the two of you to a sake tasting

The instructor was so impressed with Kenshin’s keen sense of taste that they got to talking and before Kenshin knew it, he had two people willing to sponsor him, to start his own sake brand

Naturally he never backs down from a challenge

He actually goes on to become the largest Sake producer and bunny rescue

Yukimura

I can legit see this boy doing something active like being a firefighter or gym instructor- cause lets be real this boi is ripped

Or actually maybe both

The first few weeks of being in the future he managed to save 2 peoples lives by fearlessly running in a burning building

The firefighters were legit so impressed they decided to take him on as an intern

He got some of the perks, i.e. free gym membership to stay fit

That’s when he started giving out a few pieces of advice to the people around him

“Like seriously dummy, don’t you even know how to do a proper squat, u legit ganna hurt your back if ya keep doing it like that.”

The members of the gym appreciated his advice so much, some of them started paying him to become their instructor, and soon the gym decided to hire him part-time

Now when Yuki isn't running into burning buildings saving people he is training people in the gym 

Best be sure he is gonna drag you to the gym with him

Shingen

Hehe I’ll admit I’m not too sure what this boi would get up to in the future

I think the first few weeks will be spent with you just adapting and getting to know everything

I think he would continue on with his carpentry

He kinda starts to notice your apartment is furnished in super cheap furniture

You tell him you are just a student in this time and don’t really have money to buy anything fancy

He buys a few cheap pieces of wood and starts furnishing your apartment with the most beautifully crafted furniture

Some of your friends visit the two of you and notice the remarkable craftsmanship and start commissioning him to make them some furniture

After a while he becomes the best carpenter in town

Goes on to open up a shop selling the different furniture he makes

I can see him hiring people in need, and that need a fresh start and then teaching them the trade to be able to make something of themselves

I can also see him volunteering at rescues and fostering bear cubs cause he misses his so much

I hope you enjoyed this dear and thanks again for the ask! ❤❤🔥🌻

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 3

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3 - Mortuary

There were always one or two friends in your life who you're never afraid will scold you or hang up on you in the early morning hours, even if the reason is because you had a nightmare about potatoes in your home growing lots of hair. Yin Zhou was this person to Lin Yan. He had two long strands of messy hair on his head, always wore unwashed shirts, and the eyes under his glasses could never focus because of how long he had spent gaming.

They grew up in the same neighbourhood, attended the same elementary school, middle school and high school, and they were each that "brilliant other child" in the eyes of both their parents. Since childhood, Lin Yan, regardless of how hard he worked, achieved the high grades that Yin Zhou could have achieved if he didn't skip class every day. No matter how good his grades were, his parents would praise Lin Yan for his diligent and hard work. After the college entrance exam, the two drank a glass of wine as a farewell and celebrated them parting ways. Unexpectedly, Yin Zhou missed half a page of questions while writing the math papers, but he still went to the same university as Lin Yan, so almost two. So the friendship continued with the constant cycle of loving and hating each other.

Later, they were divided by their majors. Yin Zhou studied electronics and Lin Yan studied history. From then on, there was little crossover with the two majors. Without the pressure of competition, the two of them became much closer, playing games, flirting with girls, talking about politics; there was no end to their activities.

The 'regular place' referred to the bar.

When Lin Yan walked in, he saw Yin Zhou shooting his shot with a girl at the bar unsuccessfully. Lin Yan called his name several times before he turned around. Yin Zhou opened a bottle of beer and his eyes widened: " Yo, you weren't responding to any of my calls or texts. Were you on a date?"

Lin Yan drank half the bottle in single breath, and said calmly, "I've got lost and was going around in circles."

"Got lost?!" Yin Zhou stared at him for a long time. Seeing that Lin Yan wasn't joking, he couldn't help but smile and said, "Are you feeling alright? If you're feeling sick, let this brother take you to the hospital."

Lin Yan was in a weird mood because of all the strange events that had happened. Now, his voice wasn't very strong either. He simply put down the beer bottle, put his hands on the table, raised his voice and shouted into Yin Zhou's ears: "I! Saw! A! Ghost!!"

His voice was so loud that most of the people at the bar heard him. They turned to look at him like he was crazy.

Yin Zhou hid his face behind his hand and muttered about how embarrassing it was. After thinking about it, he raised his head and said with a dazed expression: "Was it a female ghost? Was it pretty?"

Lin Yan was at a loss for words and the muscles on his face twitched.

Then Lin Yan explained all the night's occurrences to Yin Zhou in extreme detail, but he started regretting it halfway through. Yin Zhou obviously was eating it up, and a pair of unfocused eyes were shining with an excitement that couldn't be matched in ten thousand years. He rubbed his hands together and stammered when he heard the section of the figure under the street light: "This is too unscientific, or maybe it's too scientific. I'll apply to use one of the labs tomorrow, maybe I can figure this out!"

Lin Yan wanted to smash the beer bottle on his head.

"You seem busy, I'll head out first."

Yin Zhou caught him before he walked away and scratched his head: "Alright, alright. I'm just kidding. Have a drink first and we can go back to my place afterwards."

"Let's be optimistic. If that thing is a guy, then you've got to get rid of him immediately. If it's a woman, then she should definitely get down on her knees to see what is under your jeans."

Lin Yan was actually very grateful to him when he drove Yin Zhou all the way to his house. He thought that unreliable people would have unreliable benefits. No matter how weird things were, he would really listen to them, but he immediately regretted it once they reached his apartment. The reason was simple: Yin Zhou's room was dirty and no living person would ever be found in this room.

The sight that Lin Yan was faced with when he stepped in the door made him scream inside. It's better to go home and be scared to death by ghosts. God only knows how he lives like this. It was a 10-square metre rental with rubbish and clothes littering the floor. There were mountains of instant noodle boxes on the table. Some of them were being used as ashtrays and there were cigarette butts floating in the murky soup. He had no idea how long they were left there, but they were exuded a rancid smell.

The laptop was thrown on the bed, and there was a line of characters moving across the screen. Yin Zhou rushed to take a look, and groaned: "It's been going on repeatedly. The program has to be changed." After he was done talking, he didn't pay any more attention to Lin Yan. He leaned against the headboard, flipping through his notebook and clicked to stop debugging, tapping on his keyboard with his long fingers.

"There is food in the cupboard. If you get hungry, grab something to eat."

Lin Yan opened the cabinet and inspected Yin Zhou’s selection. Various brands of instant noodles, rice vermicelli, pickled mustard greens, a large number of ham sausages that were about to expire. . . If this guy croaks one day, the number of preservatives in him would help him survive for at least thirty more years. If ancient people had eaten things like this, it could've saved conservation historians so much time.

"Do you have any clean clothes? Mine are soaked from the rain. Could you lend me some dry clothes first."

"There's some on the ground. Grab those."

After feeling Lin Yan's murderous glare, Yin Zhou reluctantly got up and slowly opened the wicker basket at the foot of his bed: "Yes, yes, my mother comes to wash my clothes once a week, and the clean ones are here."

After speaking, he threw him a graphic t-shirt.

"You earn so much from your projects yet you live in such a shabby place. You don't even own a washing machine, and that quality of life is catching up with you. Aren't you afraid that your arrogant old man won't give you money to marry a wife in the future? Lin Yan took off his shirt, stretched the t-shirt over his head and put it on. With the shirt over his head, he asked in a muffled voice: "Help me find a pair of pants."

Yin Zhou threw his hands up and said with disdain: "You're being so picky. A person uses so much stuff when they are alive but when they're dead, they only need a coffin. Why are you being so particular about this?" After finishing speaking, Yu Guang looked at Lin Yan with a smirk. : "Xiao Linzi's figure is good, the fitness card is not for nothing."

He glanced at Lin Yan with his peripheral vision and gave a sly smirk: "Little Brother Lin is in good shape, your gym membership wasn't bought in vain."

"Don't you dare call me Little Brother Lin, I'll show you want a real man is!" Lin Yan picked up the electric kettle that was thrown by the bed, wiped off the ashes, and smacked his lips.

Lin Yan picked up the electric kettle that was thrown near the bed, wiped off a handful of cigarette ashes, and smacked his lips.

"Disgusting."

Yin Zhou ignored him and spoke to himself as he flipped through his suitcase. "I remember I had a pair of new jeans, where are they going. . . Huh? What's this? Did my mother leave her clothes in here?"

This was. . .

The body was made of red satin, black lining, with loose sleeves that hung down, and there was heavy embroidery around the wrists. Yin Zhou shook it out curiously. Just as he was about to hold it up to compare it to his body, Lin Yan cried out: "Put that down, don't touch it!"

Looking at Lin Yan's pale face, Yin Zhou also noticed that something was wrong, so he threw the red clothes on the bed.

"These are mortuary clothes. It's for the dead." Lin Yan said weakly.

Yin Zhou's face also changed.

"This thing doesn't belong here."

Yin Zhou looked around his room, as if to relieve the nervous atmosphere, he laughed twice: "Is it wrong? How about I call my mother and ask if she left it."

Yin Zhou looked around his room. Trying to break the tense atmosphere, he laughed twice: "Was this a mistake? How about I call my mother and ask if she put it in here?"

Lin Yan looked at the clothes and said dejectedly: "No need, I believe you."

He was getting angry, thinking that this thing was trying to provoke him no matter what, and now it was involving his friend. He was clearly trying to get a reaction out of him.

For a while, both of them were speechless. The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Under the light of the bright light, the red clothes were laid straight out on the bed like paper. Despite its bright colour, it was gloomy and had a terrifying appearance. The ancient style and the luxurious fabrics exuded such a cold atmosphere that it was like the sun had never touched it.

Ten minutes later.

Lin Yan picked up the car key on the table. He sighed and said to Yin Zhou: "I'm going back home. This thing is coming after me, staying here will only hurt you."

Yin Zhou spat out: "Don't give me that bullshit. It would be stupid to go back by yourself, just stay here."

What Lin Yan wanted to say was interrupted by Yin Zhou: "We're close enough that you're wearing my pants. Won't I be the one that will have to explain what happened to your parents if there's an accident? Don't mess with me. We'll talk about this in the morning."

After talking, yin Zhou searched under the bed for a while. He found another notebook and handed it to Lin Yan: "Do you think a ghost would be able to scare us to death? Hurry up, let's get some kills on Dota!"

Lin Yan was silent for a while, opened his notebook, and said with a smile: "You asked for it, I won't go easy on you!"

The light flickered and dimmed, and the room became more and more gloomy. Lin Yan knew instinctively that something was staring at him somewhere in the room. Maybe it had a pale face, wrapped in a red mortuary, and said sorrowfully: Your death is approaching.

This must be the weirdest night in his 22 years of life, Lin Yan thought. Once the sky begins to get bright, things will be over by dawn.

The red mortuary was like a long, stiff corpse lying on the bed, the sleeves folded across the front as if to remind him that this was only the beginning.

[bangarangtumblweed]

notes

Your country is killing you. Your country does not have your best interest in mind. That is why you have had to hoard all of your wealth. You may not have much. You may not think you have much. That is because your culture has taught you to think in a  deficit or scarcity mindset. The only scarcity is your younger generations suffering for the inequities of capitalism. Capitalism does not have room for the elderly. The family has been abolished. The culture of caring for the elderly devolved into 100 square-foot apartments were three people attend  to 30 or 40 individuals 12-18 hours at a time. Until they die.

Its profitable to keep poor people poor. Poverty charges interest. Cant afford a dentist? Next year you need a root canal. Can’t afford an upfront Costco membership to buy in bulk? Its 40 times more at the individual level. No money in your account? Overdraft fee. Transfer fee. Return check fee. Don’t pay your bill, late fee.

Fuck you.

Giving millions to charity that will trickle into the needy’s outstretched hand a minuscule percentage of what was promised gives you the warm and fuzzies. But I am actually hungry, I actually need help. The difference is: you know me.

You cant “personal finance” your way out of this. you cant tell me that I’m supposed to work overtime and not pee at the hospital or someones home 16 hours a day 7 days a week.

And then I’m supposed to buy a house, 150-300k but by the time my 30 year mortgage rolls around I’ve paid more like 600k to rent my land for which my tax bill can cause me to be foreclosed upon. Its not ownership, its fucking capitalism. You are the capital. You are the product. 

License fee, registration, insurance, year after year.. Its a fucking joke. 

Loyalty is not rewarded. Meth fueled work binges are.

I recently had a couple managers at a job who smoked meth. They were so manic I feared for my safety. Because they were on uppers and they were emotionally labile to the point of insanity. I get it, they needed the energy. we can’t physically lay stone for 12 hours. Its absurd.

My last job fired me for drinking water and getting my tire fixed, with permission. Mostly for not working overtime for free.

Let me tell you what I would do if I had any money. I would buy seeds. I would buy bitcoin. I would buy a cherry picker. I would get a pneumatic air polisher. There is no end to the amount of stuff that I can do. Money is not some thing that you supposed to keep you’re supposed to spend it on goods and services anybody could employ me to do anything. They don’t want to. Why? because I’m smarter than them. It makes them feel bad about themselves. When their shitty behavior is thrown back in their face, no one should be bullied into working more than they’re contracted for. 

In addition; I’m prettier than your average duck. It makes people feel uncomfortable because there is no part of the brain that can comprehend what I look like. there’s no emotional equivalent inside of their mind. They do not have the capability to understand what they’re looking at.

it becomes cute aggression, the other side of the blade I walk every day. 

I have seen people become enraged to the point of screaming, for absolutely no reason. I had a girl in nursing school argue with me about what “obtunded” meant. She berated me so flagrantly my teacher actually had to have a personal chat with her. There was no reason for it, I was actually right about the definition, and the condition the patient was in. This happens regularly. I wish I didn’t have such a good memory because I can recount almost every event like this, with terrifying detail 

Its called and eidetic emotional memory. And although I don’t have a photographic memory I can remember conversations and events as if they happened yesterday. 

My wisdom teeth give me frequent headaches. They need to be removed it’s $3-$8000. No one will take my government insurance in town here so I have to wait 6  or more months for the University Michigan school of dentistry which is 2 hours away. I’ve been cutting these molars into my cheek and tongue for the last 10 years. 

Remember how I said poverty charged interest? If you can’t pay your phone bill you can’t get a job you you can’t get a job you can’t pay phone bill.

I won’t even leave my house for fear of crashing my car or getting covid because I know if I don’t have a car that runs or I get sick then I’ll become homeless.

Try getting your car fixed. Try to pay someone to tell you what’s wrong with your car for less than 250 bucks. Try and justify spending hundreds on co-pays for medications  and therapy rather than just simply going to the marijuana dispensary literally around the corner from my house. I don’t drink drinking makes me sick, it’s poison. But marijuana has been Illegal my entire life. My brother handed me my first bowl at 15, I smoked more in New Zealand at 16, when I got home I kept smoking and I never stopped. I’ve been villainized and judged for every single action that I’ve ever taken since I was old enough to think and act for myself. My body was hijacked at a young age, my mind similarly so. By rapists and capitalism.

I have an IQ 130 and I’m a fucking carpenter

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: King-Size Annual Avengers #11: In Honor’s Name!

August, 1982

“Why do the AVENGERS battle the Defenders?”

I dunno, man. Is it Tuesday again?

“And who is the mystery woman Nebulon has fallen for?”

Nebulona? She’s clearly just him but a woman.

Oh, hey Beast. So this is where you got to after quitting the Avengers.

Soooo.... Annuals, amirite? Pain in my butt. I actually forgot to cover this one and #12 is going to be somewhat plot relevant soon so I’ll shove this in wherever.

Its a blast from the past of the previous year.  Back when the Avengers were fantastic but only numbered four: Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, and Wasp.

And the Defenders seem to number many so this isn’t a very fair fight at all.

This issue starts with a PRELUDE

(J. M. DeMatteis again? Is this going to be weird?)

Nebulon the Celestial Man and damn fine dresser fades onto a hilltop shaking his fist and yelling that someone can’t do something to him.

Nebulon is mostly a Defenders villain and the major thing I know about him is that he’s supposedly exceptionally handsome but the handsomeness is a ruse and that the Squadron Sinister stopped helping him destroy the world once because they discovered he wasn’t as handsome as he was letting on.

Goes to show where their priorities lie. Also, the experience was so jarring that the evil Nighthawk decided to join the Defenders much to their chagrin.

So basically I know nothing about Nebulon. Hi, Nebulon.

An angry yelly fish head with the Rocky Horror Picture Show lips inside its fish lips shows up (I think this is what Nebulon realy looks like) and tells Nebulon that his punishment for constantly dicking with Earth is to be stranded on Earth with his powers reduced to half and stuck in his handsome-to-some-but-grotesque-to-fish body.

Okay. That clears things up.

Although I wish all of space would stop using Earth as their place to dump stuff or exile people. Its bad enough when Asgard does it. Its worse enough when there’s a whole crossover about all of space deciding to make Earth its supermax jail. And its a medium amount enough here.

But apparently the shouty fish people have a Prime Directive and Nebulon keeps breaking it, specifically on Earth. But a Prime Directive that also lets them dump troublemakers on planets where they’ve been troublemaking.

Nebulon tries to defend himself that, hey, Earth makes you do crazy stuff. But the yell fish is hearing nothing of it and just tells Nebulon to kill himself if he doesn’t want to be on Earth so bad.

... Eesh.

In his rage at being stranded on Earth, Nebulon teleports inside the Sanctum Sanctorum and starts yelling at Wong.

Wong tells him, dude, Dr Strange isn’t even here. So Nebulon starts beating up Wong.

How dare you, sir. Wong is a great guy!

Nebulon: “Then Wong shall die -- just as your master shall soon die -- and his accursed Defenders with him! They shall all pay for bringing this tragedy down on my head! For, if they had not risen up to thwart me. If they -- if they... Listen to me. Listen to the words of -- a fool! Forgive me, Wong! Neither you, Strange, nor the Defenders are responsible! The blame belongs solely to -- NEBULON!”

And then he teleports away, no doubt leaving Wong very confused.

CHAPTER 1: IN HONOR’S NAME!

Later, Thor flies over the Himalaya mountains and over the chapter title.

He has come for some peace and quiet sitting on a mountain away from the bustle of mortals but what does he find but someone already in his thinking spot!

Thor lands to see who would be sitting on a mountain with no pants on and its Nebulon, of course.

But I have to say. He’s sitting and hugging his knees. That’s advanced brood. That’s, in fact, verging on pout.

Although lets not let the fact that Thor flies out to the Himalayas to be alone sometimes slip on by uncommented.

Thor asks what brings the guy out here and Nebulon has a dramatic exile speech ready to go.

Nebulon: “For hours now I have sat, lost in thought, pondering that very question! What is it that brings any creature to the depths of despair, the edge of doom, but... himself?”

And since he senses a kindred spirit in Thor, one who is as different from the Earthly masses as Nebulon is, he unloads his full story onto Thor’s ears.

Upon hearing all about this dude who tried to take over or sell the world multiple times, Thor is like ‘this guy has got to meet the Avengers!’

Nebulon thinks Avengers sounds like Defenders and he’s not into that but Thor says that the Avengers are way cooler than the Defenders.

(Ooooh, shots fired, Thor)

Thor: “No, my friend -- there are none in all creation to compare with the Avengers! A hardier band of warriors hath ne’er been assembled! Where else could a god walk among mortals and find -- his equals?”

If Nebulon has truly repented of his past deeds, the Avengers will help him make a home on Earth.

And with a manly armclasp, like the one from Predator, Nebulon accepts and Thor takes him AWAY!

While the person who looks like Nebulon but a woman and with better boots watches them go and disappears in a bright flash of light.

CHAPTER 2

Yes, already.

“Avengers Mansion... Over the years, many fantastic beings have walked through the doors of this august Manhattan townhouse: Gods, mutants, androids... even a were-woman. But, of all these unique individuals, few -- if any -- have been more honored, more respected... More willing to serve the cause of freedom, wherever the place, whenever the time.. than the living legend whose only powers are his wits, his daring, and his years of hard-won skill... Captain America!”

And we see Cap leaping and gamboling about the exercise room, exercising.

Cap: “Ah -- there’s nothing like a good workout to make a man feel truly alive! It might pay to run through it once more, though --- my timing was a hair off on the parallel bars!”

Wasp comes in to... well, its Wasp. She comes to eye the eye candy and flirt a little, in a friendly fashion.

Wasp: “I see you’re here early for our meeting -- as usual! Don’t you ever slow down?”

Cap: “I seem to remember catching a few winks back in 1942 or so!”

Wasp: “Why, Cap -- that was two jokes in a row! I didn’t think you had it in you!”

Cap: “Oh, come on, Jan -- I’m not really that serious a guy, am I?”

Wasp: “I was just kidding, handsome.”

Cap: “Oh.”

Heh.

So, Thor called a super special emergency meeting of the Avengers to introduce his cool new friend.

Iron Man (secretly Tony Stark, true believers) is a little tense about the meeting because he had to cancel three business conferences, an address to foreign stockholders, and two dates.

Geez, for one meeting? You ever consider your calendar is way too packed, Tony?

Thor arrives with his cool, new pal and introduces the Avengers to NEBULON -- THE CELESTIAL MAN!

And Iron Man lunges out of his chair to get into better pointing distance.

Thor: “What irks thee, comrade? Why art thou so angered?”

Iron Man: “What irks me, Thor? He does! Haven’t you ever bothered to study our computer-file on alien threats? Your ‘newfound ally’ almost totalled the Earth -- several times!”

Nebulon: “Don’t you see, Thor? They react as I predicted they would!”

Also, geez. I know Tony is frustrated about all the schedule juggling he’s had to do but in this and the Black Knight two-parter he’s a lot ruder to Thor than you’d expect considering how close they are.

Some writers just don’t get the Avengers, I guess.

Cap and Wasp try to get Iron Man to calm down.

Wasp: “I’m sure there’s a darn good reason why Thor brought Nebulon here -- isn’t there?”

She’s downright staring daggers at him when she asks that.

We’ve jumped back in time a little from where I was covering but Jan is still the chairperson of the Avengers. It happened right when she returned from her divorce related hiatus and this four person group has to take place post-Tigra leaving and pre-membership drive.

So, she’s the boss and she just gave angry boss eyes at Thor. And Thor did his default squinting always-looks-pissed look back at her.

Thor tells Nebulon’s whole sad story off-panel.

And damn if it doesn’t hit the Avengers right where they live.

Wasp tells him that they all know what it means to lose something precious “whether it’s an entire world... or the love of one person -- it makes no difference! It hurts to suddenly find yourself -- alone!”

And Captain America sympathizes because when he was defrosted after twenty years, it was like a strange new world!

They’re both on team ‘give Nebulon a chance!’

Iron Man is more reluctant but decides to give Nebulon one chance.

Then the Defenders bust in.

Beast, Valkyrie, Silver Surfer, and Gargoyle who is not Etrigan at all.

And they’re here to kick Nebulon’s ass. Which is entirely fair considering that they’ve been the ones who keep having to stop Nebulon’s planschemes.

Since the Avengers seem to not be beating up Nebulon, obviously they’ve all been mind controlled. Nebulon is clearly planning to blow up half the Earth and use the Avengers to control the rest.

Cap: ‘what’

Silver Surfer: ‘HE’S MAKING A HOSTILE MOVE!’

And then Silver Surfer blasts the floor, sending all of the Avengers sprawling every which way.

MEANWHILE, IN SPACE

There’s a huge spaceship, in space. And within the huge spaceship in space, the lady who looks like a lady Nebulon watches the fight on a screen and cries.

Hey, I get it. Doing the Avengers vs Defenders Again But Worse makes me sad too.

CHAPTER 3

See, that’s more of the length for a chapter. You could learn something from chapter 2, chapter 1.

Anyway, the clock winds back a little for the Defender’s side of the story.

Valkyrie returns to the Sanctum Sanctorum in a good mood and also on a flying horse.

For a long while, Valkyrie’s status quo is that she was inhabiting the body of Barbara Norris, a woman that Dr Strange accidentally drove insane. But she’s gotten her original Asgardian body back so she’s stronger than ever and also not bodyjacking someone else.

She flies into the window, alarming Gargoyle, Beast, and Wong.

Gargoyle tearfully flies up and hugs Valkyrie saying that he thought she was leaving for Asgard forever.

Hey, um, who dis?

-wiki- Ok so he’s an elderly man who was trapped in a gargoyle body by some demons who he broke an agreement with. Cool, cool, cool. I would have guessed much younger based on how he acts here.

Valkyrie also smooshes Beast’s hand when he gives her a handshake hello, because she’s much buffer than she was when she left. Also, she talks more like Thor.

Valkyrie: “I am, at long last, the true Valkyrie! What more need be said?”

Then the Lady Nebulon teleports in and introduces herself as Supernalia. She tells the Defenders that she’s here to save the world from the evil of NEBULON!

Beast doesn’t recognize the name but Valkyrie definitely does. What with all the existing history that I keep alluding to.

Supernalia: “Indeed! I am a bounty hunter from Nebulon’s homeworld come to bring him to justice! He has fled to your Earth, taking sanctuary among the so-called Avengers! Using celestial mind control, he has usurped their will, and -- after decimating part of your world with four pre-set anti-matter bombs -- he plans to use the Avengers to take control of the surviving population!”

Beast goes ‘uh cool story but i’mma verify this real quick by ringing them up’

But then he remembers he already did do that and they were very rude to him!

He remembers this interaction very clearly even though it didn’t happen at all.

Ironically, the Defenders are the ones who are being mind-controlled into accusing other people of being mind-controlled. Yes, I’m pretty sure that’s irony.

Wong suddenly remembers that Nebulon rushed in the previous night but he can’t remember how that interaction actually went.

AH HAH, decides Beast. Clearly proof that Nebulon mind-controlled Wong. Lets go half-cocked everyone.

No, no. Beast decides they’ll need more than just the three of them and wonders who they should call to bolster their numbers to a whole four Defenders. Dr Strange is busy chasing Daimon Hellstrom and Namor soooo...

Valkyrie suggests Silver Surfer because he kicks ass but they have no way to get in contact with him.

Supernalia goes hey allow me.

Supernalia: “Although my planet’s laws forbid direct involvement with alien cultures -- and thus my need of you Defenders -- I can help!”

And she baps Valkyrie in the forehead and instantly transmissions Silver Surfer right to the Sanctum to his existential annoyance.

Silver Surfer: What force has swept me halfway ‘round the world? Who toys with -- the Silver Surfer?”

Valkyrie explains off-panel because this is very much “let me explain! No, there is too much. Let me sum up” kind of day.

CHAPTER 4

We cut back to right after the Silver Surfer knocked everyone on their ass with a warning shot.

Thor: “Surfer -- art thou mad?! Thy ‘warning’ came close to slaying us all!”

Thor gets up to kick Norrin’s rad ass but Valkyrie grabs his arm. She tries to convince him to trust her that Nebulon is controlling the Avengers. She appeals to their shared history, their shared love.

Thor: “Brunnhilde -- thou art truly the one blinded... by thine own prejudice! Because, once, Nebulon stood as thine enemy -- thou takest him for that again!”

Valkyrie: “Thunderer -- once I loved thee -- but now I see -- that thou art -- A FOOL!”

Then she just up and tosses him.

It’s pretty great.

Thor just rights himself midtoss by helicoptering his hammer and tells Valkyrie that she’s the fool. And also that because she fucking threw him, now he knows that its her group that are under some kind of control.

Nebulon starts yelling too because he’s not going to sit by while other people fight his battle so he’s like ‘come on if you’re hard enough, dickfenders’ and Beast is like ‘ok.’

Wasp, team leader, thinks Thor is onto something re: the Defenders being against some kind of influence and asks Iron Man to create a distraction so the Avengers can skedaddle.

Iron Man has the perfect distraction and fires the UNIBEEEEAM. At his own roof, collapsing it on the Defenders.

Iron Man: “Wait till Tony gets the bill for this!”

... so depending on the time frame, either only Nebulon or both him and Wasp are the only ones who don’t know Iron Man is Tony so who are you putting on a show for, Tony?

Or maybe you’re just so used to grousing about the Avengers breaking your shit that you do it even when you do it.

Anyway, since Thor has a hunch that the Defenders are being controlled, he decides that the best thing is to teleport somewhere safe and make a plan.

So Nebulon teleports himself and the Avengers to the Himalayas where he and Thor first met.

The effort nearly kills Nebulon, since his powers have been curtailed by the yell fish. But now they have some space.

Wasp: “And don’t think we don’t appreciate it, Nebulon! But couldn’t you have zapped us to a more temperate climate -- like the Bahamas... or the French Riviera? It mean, it’s COLD here!”

Cap hopes that the Defenders won’t find them somewhere so remote and isolated but Thor, whose idea this was by the by, isn’t so sure because they don’t know who is pulling the strings.

Iron Man: “Good point! Are we dealing with one of our old foes -- one of the Defenders’ -- or perhaps someone out for Nebulon’s head! Let’s face it: we’ve got a wide field to choose from!”

Annnnnnd thennnnn, the Defenders just show up anyway so trying to get some breathing room was a waste of Nebulon’s efforts.

Beast: “Cap, Thor, Iron Man, Jan! You’re all my friends... more than that -- you’re family! So why won’t you believe me when I tell you that this nut’s gonna wipe the whole planet out in a matter of hours! Please -- hand him over or --.”

Nebulon: “Or... NOTHING!”

Then he shoots an energy blast at the Defenders.

Which sadly arcs to the ground with a SHOOOM! and does little more than splash some snow on the Defenders.

But awwww, Beast considers the Avengers family! Shame that once the X-Men pull him back into their orbit, he only hangs out with them and decides never to ask the Avengers for help, either when Professor X gets shot by Stryfe or when trying to solve the Legacy Virus.

I think that social group is a bad influence on Beast. He never broke time or pretended to be gay to dunk on his ex when he was an Avenger. He just got high, practiced polyamory, and yukked it up with his bffsie Wonder Man.

Anyway, Silver Surfer gets up and disses Nebulon for his sad laser blast.

Silver Surfer: “Like all who seek conquest, Nebulon -- you refuse to recognize truth! You alter reality to serve your own malefic ends! But the power you no wield, tyrant, is as nothing compared to that which you once had! You are weak -- as Supernalia said you would be!”

Nebulon is aghast to hear that Supernalia is the one behind all of this. And also aghast when Gargoyle shoots a bio-mystic bolt at him.

Apparently, Gargoyle can shoot bio-mystic bolts. Are there mystic bolts that are not bio? Shrug.

CHAPTER 5

Hey, some of these chapter divisions feel arbitrary. We go from the fight to the fight. At least some other chapter divisions had scene or temporal shifts.

Cap begs the Defenders to fight off Supernalia’s influence. Or the Avengers will fight off Supernalia’s influence for them. Probably via punches.

For whatever reason, this makes Valkyrie go stickycaps.

Valkyrie: “The hour of Earth’s doom draws ever closer -- and, to prevent that doom, we will do whate’er we must! wHaTeVeR wE mUsT!”

Mystifying.

Anyway, with both sides thinking the other side are dumb easily mind-controlled doodoo heads, they both get to the slugfest that neither side wants but thinks there’s no other way to reach the other side but by punching some sense into them.

This panel feels like a microcosm of a lot of Marvel events.

And as this goes on Nebulon just watches the fight with calculating eyes.

I’m sure that’s fine.

Thor and Valkyrie continue sparring verbally, as well as with punches. Valkyrie asks how Thor can let Midgard be destroyed when they both love it so much. And Thor is like ‘for the last time, there’s no danger except from your mysterious new golden pal’

Meanwhile, the Defender’s mysterious new golden pal Supernalia is monitoring the fight from her spaceship. And monitoring the Defenders’ brainwaves.

Thor is actually making Valkyrie doubt. And Supernalia can’t have that.

Supernalia: “I cannot afford to lose control of the Defenders now! For honor’s sake, their rage must grow! And more -- they must retain a psychological surety that cannot be breached! In Valkyrie’s case, the introduction of something... familiar -- something to increase her confidence -- would seem appropriate!”

So Supernalia teleports Valkyrie’s sweet flying horse Aragorn to just. Appear on the Himalayas. Between Valkyrie and Thor.

Valkyrie doesn’t know how her horse suddenly appeared but she’s not going to look a gift teleporting winged horse in the mouth. She jumps on his back and takes to the air.

Thor gets pissed and hammerflings himself after her.

While Thor is chasing Valkyrie around the sky, Iron Man squares up with Silver Surfer.

Silver Surfer tells Iron Man that “you see to halt one who has outraced comets! Soared faster than light itself!” and basically that he rules, Iron Man sucks. And then to prove it, he blasts Iron Man with the power cosmic.

Just that one attack nearly tore Iron Man apart and he’s pretty sure that Silver Surfer was holding back. Oof, that’s some power gap.

BUT MAYBE just maybe if Iron Man puts all of his might into one staggering punch...

It’ll do jack shit to the Surfer.

Well, damn.

Gargoyle fights Wasp but says its not proper for a man to fight a lady. Wasp points out ‘hey you’re fighting me anyway so maybe someone is making you do it.’

Gargoyle: ‘.... NUH UH’

Cool. Good talk.

Supernalia: “This Gargoyle is too... soft! His mind accepts -- but his heart rebels! These beings are not like us! Their minds are filled with too many questions! Their souls overflow with conflicting emotions!”

I can’t believe humans (and Asgardians) have too many feelings and emotions to be easily controlled.

Well, I can believe. It really checks out.

So Supernalia increases the celestial mindwaves to shore up her control, even if it means burning out the Defenders.

Rude.

Thor blasts Valkyrie off of Aragorn with lightning and then catches her, saying he won’t let her fall. So, reasonably enough, Valkyrie elbows him in the face for treating her like a damsel.

They both fall toward the ground. Aragorn catches Valkyrie and Thor catches... a cosmic bolt from Silver Surfer.

You had one job, Iron Man.

And that job was to sneak up on Silver Surfer while he’s self-flagellating for doing a shameful opportunistic attack on Thor.

Iron Man uses those... hip... power pod... things. To zap Silver Surfer’s temples and siphon off some of his power.

And with that power, Iron Man tips a chunk of the mountain on top of Silver Surfer.

This doesn’t keep the Surfer down for long. Despite the fact that trying to contain the incredible surfing energies he absorbed threatens to damage his armor, Iron Man absorbs more when Silver Surfer blasts him, to try to turn the energy back at the Surfer.

Instead, they both explode.

Double KO.

Elsewhere in the fight, Gargoyle blasts Wasp with his bio-mystic bolts, knocking her into the snow.

Gargoyle panics because his bio-mystic bolts are supposed to drain off a fraction of a person’s life-force, not up and kill them.

So Gargoyle shouldn’t have been surprised when Wasp pops back up and zaps him in the chin. And Wasp shouldn’t have been surprised when Gargoyle zaps her back.

She passes out. But so does Gargoyle, to his confusion. His hide should be tough enough to take a truckload of punishment, yet he suddenly feels so weak.

I mean. Wasp is strong enough to blow up a house with her own zaps. But this is probably intended to be Supernalia’s mind control burning him out.

I choose to believe that its Wasp’s cool house-blowing-up might. She’s kicked bigger ass than Gargoyle.

Wasp’s defeat scream momentarily distracts Cap from where he’s fisticuffsing with Beast.

Beast: “Holy cow! I hope she’s not badly hurt!”

Cap: “You hope she’s not -- ?! You can still say that after all you’ve done today? After all the pain this Supernalia has driven the Defenders to cause?”

Beast: “We’ve caused? You’re the ones harboring the lunatic with the anti-matter bombs --.”

There’s no guilt-tripping some people.

Cap throws his mighty shield but Beast must not have heard the song because he not only doesn’t yield, he also catches the shield with his feets.

Then he sleds on it down a snowy incline and tackles Cap.

Beast: “It’s time we quit all this clowning around!”

Cap: “That’s right, Hank! This is serious business -- so hit me! Hit me, blast you! HIT ME!”

Beast: “Hey! wHaT tHe HeCk Am I dOiNg?”

Cap: “Coming to your senses, I hope!”

Beast realizes that Cap dropped his guard and let Beast beat the shit out of him on purpose, let Beast almost kill him.

Cap: “You’re no killer, Hank! And no force, however great, could make you kill! I counted on that fact to snap you out of it!”

Wow, good going, Cap!

Out of everyone here, you’re the only one who successfully snapped anyone out of anything. Although I think Wasp coulda if she had played possum and let Gargoyle think he killed her instead of popping up to zap him.

But Cap has insight into Hank. That probably helped.

Me and Jan know jack about Gargolye.

CHAPTER 6

With exactly two people conscious but not fighting anymore, Nebulon is like ‘hah eat shit Supernalia’

So Supernalia appears.

Beast feels like he’s about to keel over even though he beat the shit out of Cap and Cap feels weaker too. They blame Supernalia because its very easy to blame someone whose fault everything is.

But Supernalia blames Nebulon.

Nebulon slams a drama bomb in response.

Nebulon: “Do not seek to reclaim the upper hand with more lies, Supernalia! Such sophistry is unbecoming in... my wife!”

I heard that in Borat voice and I hate myself a little.

But now that Supernalia’s relation to Nebulon has been established, Nebulon is like ‘but why are you trying to ruin my exile?’

Supernalia: “You were convicted of high crimes, my husband -- and the sentence was a choice of honorable death by your own hand... or ignominious exile! In 500 generations, none of our people have ever chosen exile! All have proudly faced extinction! But you, lacking courage, brought shame upon your wife and children!”

HE HAS KIDS??

Anyway, she came to Earth to just. Kinda. Kill him. To restore honor to their family.

But when she got there, she found that he had already made friends and decided well I need some pawns of my own. So I can kill him.

Nebulon isn’t really impressed because in his one day as an exile, he’s had some epiphanies.

Nebulon: “Unlike you, I have traveled far across this universe! I have learned to see in new ways! Our concepts of honor are archaic! Our laws are cruel! I now dare to dream higher dreams, for I have learned what it means to have -- friends!”

Supernalia: “I have been your friend... and much more! Since our childhood betrothal have I stood by you -- despite your constant avoidance of responsibilities! Despite your failure to achieve glory or rank!”

Oof, imagine if your childhood friend and spouse told you that being exiled on Earth taught him what friendship really means.

I have to imagine that Cap and Beast are just listening to this like ‘god why do cosmic people always have to dump their relationship baggage on Earth?’

Supernalia then tries to tell Beast and Cap that Actually Nebulon is up to no good.

Beast is like yeah nice try.

But this time Supernalia has actual proof evidence.

She dispels the invisibility cloak hiding the Ennui Device that Nebulon left on a prior trip to Earth and is now using to drain energy from the Avengers and Defenders to beef himself up.

Now, Cap and Beast turn to Nebulon like ‘but buddy, why?’ and also to punch him a little bit, in a friendly manner.

Nebulon: “I did what I had to -- to survive! Believe me -- I truly wanted the friendship you offered -- but observing the unfolding battle, I realized I could never find peace on this or any world -- without the POWER!”

And this rude boy who doesn’t understand what friendship means punches both Cap and Beast.

Beast sprawls right at Supernalia’s feet completely burned out and goes hey feel like stepping in??

Supernalia: “I can do nothing directly, Beast. I am not permitted to interfere!”

Beast: “You... stupid... self-deluding... idiots! Don’t you understand that all this has happened... because you already have... interfered?!?!”

Supernalia: “So           I              have!”

And since now she’s done the big bad transgress of the Prime Directive, she decides that unlike her shitbird husband, she’s going to do the honorable thing and kill herself.

I. Have no words. At this entire exchange.

Its too much.

Nebulon is distraught so slaps the gun out of her hand and begs her to instead of killing herself, not do that. She could stay on Earth and rule at his side!

This latest bout of cosmic interpersonal drama gives Cap the opportunity to muster his strength and throw his mighty shield.

It deflects the ray emitter of the Ennui Device so it hits Nebulon instead of the Avengerdefenders.

Except, oops, the Ennui Beam was calibrated for “humanoid physio-psycho energies” so instead of draining his energy, the Ennui Beam just straight up starts killing Nebulon.

Amazing how you can stretch vocabulary to encompass humans, Asgardians, mutants, power cosmic imbued Zenn-Lavians, and whatever demonic biz is going on with the Gargoyle.

It sure is amazing how it affects all these different things as intended but its accidentally fatal in a way that will help wrap up the story.

Beast wet noodle jumps to try to redirect the beam and save Nebulon but Supernalia shoves him out of the way and then jumps into the beam herself.

Supernalia: “Thus, I join my husband -- in oblivion!”

Geez, when she sets her mind to killing herself, she sticks with it

.__.

Nebulon agrees that Actually This is the Right and Correct Course for them, I guess because couple counseling is a hassle.

Then the Ennui Device overloads and explodes and Nebulon and Supernalia turn to their true forms of giant weird fish people with Rocky Horror Picture Show lips inside fish lips.

Beast laments that Supernalia didn’t just let him save both of them but she’s like ‘HONORRR’ and then dies.

Thor: “I called Nebulon friend and he decieved me! Yet now -- Thor mourns his passing!”

Silver Surfer: “What manner of beings were they, to cherish honor so much... and value life so little?”

Cap: “Perhaps, Surfer -- not so different from us. Not so different -- at all!”

Okay, shut up your face, Cap.

First off, I don’t think much of an honor code that says its okay to mind control and lie to people and use them as pawns in a way that could kill them but then also goes ‘this is an honorable death’ when you stupid yourself to death.

And neither should you! Don’t put a poetic, poignant spin on things! This whole affair was a weird couples spat that two space weirdos forced you to participate in!

Follow @essential-avengers​ because I went back and covered an inconsequential annual and now I can’t go back and not do that. I wasted my time for you. Also, like and reblog. I need positive reinforcement. It makes me happy.

[lake-arrius-caverns]

Nerevarine Rising

Chapter 4: Arkngthand

summary After a few days of guild work and running odd jobs around Balmora, Fahjoth’s thirst for adventure continues to grow. On being given an assignment to venture into a Dwemer ruin, he is elated — but is he getting ahead of himself?

content warnings mild threat/violence

tag list @boulderfall-cave , @padomaicocean (lmk if you’d like to be added!)

read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍

:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::

  —————————————————————————————

“I joined the Mages Guild.”

“You what?”

Fahjoth stood there, knee deep in the Odai River and grinned back at Ribyna, who was sitting on the bank sharpening a chitin dagger. He knew he had the dopiest, silliest smile on his face, but he couldn’t help it; Ribyna’s incredulous expression was tickling him. 

“The fuck have you done that for?” Ribyna asked. “The only thing you can cast is a shadow.” 

“Oi!” Fahjoth laughed, too accustomed to Ribyna’s mean teasing to take offence. “That’s why I joined it. I want to learn! You should join, too.” 

Ribyna grimaced. “Nah, you’re alright. Didn’t you join the Fighters Guild as well?”

“I did! I think that’s where I’ll be most useful,” Fahjoth admitted. “I might not be any good at magic, but turns out I can swing a sword decently.”

In the days that had passed since Fahjoth arrived at Cosades’ house, he had done as advised and set out to build up his strength. In addition to securing membership in — and running a few menial jobs for — the Fighters Guild and Mages Guild, Fahjoth had visited several of Cosades’ recommended trainers to get some practise in moving in armour and using larger weapons than the daggers he was used to. With the gold he had been gifted, he had even purchased a set of chitin armour and a gleaming steel shortsword for himself, which certainly came in handy when exterminating rats from old ladies’ homes. 

Today, he was to meet Cosades at noon to receive his first assignment. Fahjoth was even beginning to feel a little excited; this was the very reason he was here, after all. Who knew what thrilling mission Cosades had lined up for the newest Blades recruit? 

But for now, while the sun was up and basking Balmora in a warm early light, Fahjoth had taken the morning off and met with Ribyna to catch up and relax. She squinted at him, finally paying attention to the fact that he was standing in the shallows of the river. 

“Any particular reason you’re going for a paddle?” she asked, finally setting down her dagger and nodding towards his feet. “It’s not that hot today.” 

“I’m practising a water walking spell I got from the Guild,” Fahjoth answered happily. 

Ribyna raised a brow. “You sure that wasn’t a water sinking spell instead? ‘Cause if it is, you’re doing great.”

“Oh ha ha. It’s a hard spell!” However, Fahjoth was ready to admit defeat for now, emerging from the river and sitting beside his twin to let his feet dry off in the sun. “So, what’ve you got planned for today?”

Ribyna shrugged. “Not much. I’ll see if Habasi wants anything doing. What about you? You off to see this Cosades bloke?”

“In a bit,” Fahjoth said. “He’s got my first job for me today, apparently.”

“Juicy. So are you gonna tell me what it is you’re doing now?”

“You know I can’t.” 

Ribyna turned to Fahjoth, her face falling into a rather petulant frown. “You‘ve never given a shit before. Come on, can’t you just tell me? Not like I’m gonna tell anyone, is it?” 

Fahjoth sighed, trying to look as sincere as possible. “I’d love to tell you, Beebs, honestly. I would. But Cosades made me swear to secrecy. I’m not allowed to tell anyone.”

Ribyna was quiet for a moment. “Is it really that serious?” Then she laughed. “I mean, it’s not like you’re a secret agent for the Emperor, is it?”

Fahjoth forced a laugh, feeling wildly uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Hah! Wouldn’t that be mad?” Partly for a distraction, he shielded his eyes and glanced up at the sky. “Anyway, I should probably get going. Don’t wanna be late for Cosades,” he said, as he replaced his boots and hauled himself to his feet. 

“Alright.” Following Fahjoth’s example, Ribyna stood up and stretched with a dramatic groan. “I’ll see you later then. If you’re free, meet me in the South Wall Cornerclub this evening? I’ll get the first round in.” 

“Sounds good!” Fahjoth agreed with a grin, patting his twin on the shoulder as he set off for Cosades’ house. “See you later.” He turned and waved over his shoulder as Ribyna called back to him. 

“Bye, Fahji. Good luck!” 

 —————————————————————————————

As Fahjoth let himself into Cosades’ house, he was unsurprised now to find the older man completely shirtless yet again. In fact, it was a rarer sight to see him actually wearing anything over his chest. 

“You’re early,” Cosades remarked. “Good, that shows eagerness. Are you ready for your first task?”

“Yessir!” Fahjoth confirmed, trying to curb his enthusiasm and resisting the urge to salute. 

“Excellent. Here’s what I need you to do.” Cosades handed over a scrap of parchment, upon which instructions had been neatly scrawled — fairly useless to Fahjoth, as his reading ability was no better now than it had been when he had first arrived. He took it regardless and waited for Cosades to continue. “Go talk to Hasphat Antabolis at the Balmora Fighters Guild. Ask him what he knows about the Nerevarine secret cult and the Sixth House secret cult. You'll have to do him a favour first. Probably an ugly favour. But do it. Then get the information from Antabolis and report back to me.” 

Fahjoth paused, the spark of excitement that had been burning in his chest shrivelling up and dying within seconds. Disappointed didn’t even begin to cover it; he had been expecting daring missions full of adventure and maybe a little bit of danger to get the blood pumping. Instead, he was being sent to... gather intel? 

Well, there’s a bit of glamour in that, in a way, Fahjoth reasoned to himself as he made his way over to the Balmora Fighters Guild. Learning about secret cults was sure to be fascinating — not that he had any idea what the ‘Nerevarine’ or the ‘Sixth House’ even were. Still, it must have been important — to Cosades at least, if nobody else — and Fahjoth was determined to make his first assignment a success.

Hasphat Antabolis was, thankfully, easy to locate, standing in the base of the Guild in discussion with another member. Trying his utmost to seem polite and professional, he approached the Fighters Guild’s Drillmaster and waited for Antabolis’ conversation to end. 

“Good day, Associate,” Antabolis greeted, turning to Fahjoth once he had finished. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi, sir. I’m actually here on a job from Caius Cosades,” Fahjoth explained. 

“So you're with Caius, eh? Let me guess, he wants information?”

“Yes sir.”

“I see.” Antabolis didn’t seem overly surprised. “Of course, there's a this-for-that involved here. I’d like to ask a favour first, and then I'll tell you what you want to know.”

Fahjoth had been expecting that. “Of course, sir,” he said, wondering what kind of favour Antabolis was looking for. Maybe to run some shopping errands, or to take some armour to be repaired?

“There are Dwemer ruins nearby called Arkngthand. I need you to run over there and find me a little copper cube. It's called a ‘Dwemer puzzle box’. Bring me back the box, and I'll tell you what you want to know.”

Fahjoth’s smile slipped for a moment as he realised what Antabolis had asked of him. “A Dwemer ruin?” he repeated, beginning to feel that flicker of excitement again — accompanied by apprehension, of course, but he pushed that aside. After the rigorous training he had received, an expedition into some Dwemer ruins was bound to be a breeze!

“Yes.” Antabolis began tracing the approximate shape of the cube in the air with his fingers. “It’s a little cube, about the size of a fist, maybe a little bigger. It will have a circular design, symbols on one side and some lined marks on the others. That's all I want, that little cube. You probably won’t even need to go venturing too deep into the ruins. Can you do that for me, Associate?”

Fahjoth nodded, feeling a wave of hopeful determination flooding his chest. “Yes sir! I’ll head there right now.”

After lingering for long enough to commit the instructions regarding Arkngthand to memory, Fahjoth set off, stopping at Cosades’ to collect his armour and sword before strolling out of Balmora on his next adventure. The sense of trepidation persisted, but it was drowned out by Fahjoth’s overwhelming curiosity and eagerness to explore new places and put his new skills to the test. It was just an old, uninhabited ruin, after all — as long as he was careful, he should be just fine.

Plus, he did have some experience with old ruins; he and Ribyna had ventured through the weathered stone doors of ancient Ayleid ruins back in Cyrodiil, with a group of friends from the Waterfront. Granted, they had barely gone deeper than the entrance hallway, but still! That had to count for something.

Fahjoth’s good mood only continued to grow as he reached the crest of an earthy hill, the vegetation having grown more and more sparse the nearer he got to Caldera. Once he spotted the Dwemer bridge, he couldn’t hold back a jubilant grin. He’d made it! Perhaps it was his euphoria at having successfully followed directions, but even the broad metal bridge itself had a certain rustic charm to it, despite being coated in a layer of dust and dirt built up over the years. Each footstep caused a reverberating clang to echo over the crevasse beneath, which Fahjoth peered down at with interest as he crossed, running his fingertips over the brass handle and feeling its mild, sunkissed warmth against his skin. 

Once he reached the other side, he was plunged into the shadow of Arkngthand. For a few moments, he was struck silent with awe at the sheer scale of it, the surrounding hills dotted by colossal turrets jutting out of the earth — and that was just the part he could see. From his position outside, all seemed still and quiet, but if he strained his ears and listened, he could hear something from deep within the ruins; the soft whisper of steam and a slow, gentle rumble that caused the hairs along his arms to stand on end with anticipation. And here was a scent that hung faintly in the air, growing more potent the closer in proximity he got to the ruins — a strange earthy yet metallic tang that lingered in his nose and even left a hint on his tongue. 

He recalled Antabolis giving him advice, suggesting that there would likely be an external mechanism to power the door. Fortunately, Fahjoth didn’t have to look too far before his eyes fell on a rusted metal wheel protruding out of the ground, which was somewhat stiff but still mobile. And once Fahjoth succeeded in twisting it, he heard the unpleasant groaning of metal and looked up just in time to see the ruin’s spherical entrance gliding open, revealing a door leading into what he assumed was the entrance hall. To his alarm, the rotating sphere began to slowly shut again, and so Fahjoth leapt into action and hurtled in through the entrance before it was sealed once more, assuming — and hoping — there would be some kind of opening mechanism on the other side. 

Once inside, Fahjoth’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the gloom. Along the dim hallways, strange elongated lights were fastened to the walls, casting a warm orange glow with which he was able to navigate. It didn’t escape his notice, however, that several wooden boxes and containers lined the halls, upon which candles sat — many flickering with a small flame. That seemed very unusual for somewhere that was supposedly uninhabited…

Then, he froze as it slowly dawned on him that Antabolis had never once claimed that Arkngthand was uninhabited. That was entirely Fahjoth’s own assumption.

And with that his confidence evaporated in an instant, to be replaced with a heavy apprehension that he could not shake. The ambience of the ruins only exacerbated his nervousness; now that he was inside, he could hear the clanking and groaning of ancient Dwemer machinery all too clearly, along with the occasional hiss as a puff of steam escaped from a loose joint in a brass pipe, both of which provided a constant, repetitive backdrop of noise that was impossible to ignore. Every so often, a much louder clunk or creak echoed through the tunnels, and Fahjoth flinched and froze, half-expecting the rusted supports holding up the dense stone walls to finally give way and collapse overhead. But there was no turning back now. He needed that cube.

The air now was stifling; warm, stale and thick with the acrid taste of metal, and only getting worse the further and deeper he delved into the ruins. Fahjoth began to feel beads of sweat gently dripping down his forehead and back, making him cringe with discomfort. With caution he pressed onwards, frequently pausing and straining his senses to listen out for any sign of life. And soon, it reached him; voices, coming from an area just up ahead, chatting amongst themselves and apparently oblivious to his presence. 

Fahjoth soon left the corridor and found himself overlooking a vast chamber, cut into the ground itself with stone slopes leading down to the base and up again on the opposite side to a second floor built into the cavern wall. Neither slope looked particularly structurally sound, and he grimaced at the thought of trying to sneak down undetected. So instead he stopped to listen, hoping to glean any information from the two men — an Imperial and a Redguard — loitering around a collection of boxes on the rough, stony ground beneath him. 

“How long are we staying in this shithole anyway? It’s fucking roasting in here.”

“No idea. Long enough for us to find enough Dwarven shit to make a profit off of, I guess. Since Crito’s found that weird cube, he reckons there’s more lying around that the right people will pay a fortune for.” 

“Really? He’s still holding onto that junk?”

“Yup. Keeping it in the safe room up there. He seems to know his stuff, so maybe he’s right.”

“Maybe. I still think we’d have been better off raiding a tomb, though.” 

As the men continued to debate the merits of sacking an ancestral tomb over looting Dwemer ruins, Fahjoth had his answers at least. The Imperial below had pointed upwards as he spoke, gesturing to a doorway on the upper floor of the chamber across from where he stood, which was as good a hint as he was likely to get. But even armed with this information, he was still faced with the issue of how to actually get himself over there without being noticed. He’d never been a particularly skilled sneak, but just maybe— 

“Come on, I’m sure there’s some flin ‘round here somewhere. I’m sure nobody’ll miss it if we just take one or two bottles.” 

Fahjoth could scarcely believe his luck. As the men began to amble further away and rummage around in some crates in the alcove beneath the second floor, he took his chance. As light-footed as a cat, but with less than half the grace, he scrabbled down the slope to his right, occasionally gasping and half-running as he felt rocks and soil shifting beneath his boots. It was with relief that he reached the ground, but there was no time to hesitate — within seconds he had crossed the chamber and was ascending the second slope, having to use his hands for balance as he clambered up the dilapidated ramp. At last he reached the next floor, where he was faced with another circular bronze door which he fully expected to be locked, but to his surprise, it swung open as enthusiastically as he pushed it with scarcely a creak. Clearly it was in frequent use. 

But as Fahjoth took a single step into the room, he found himself face to face with the largest Imperial he had ever seen in his life, whose broad shoulders were barely contained by the iron cuirass he donned. For a few moments the two simply locked eyes and stood in silence, both rather stunned by the sudden appearance of the other. Then, with a ferocious yell, the Imperial grasped the gleaming handle of a nearby battleaxe and swung it at Fahjoth without hesitation. 

With only a second to react, Fahjoth threw himself to the ground, panic wiping his mind completely blank. His first instinct was to flee, but now the man stood between him and the doorway, and there were no alternative means of escape that he could see. As he scrambled to his feet, Fahjoth leapt back as the man came lunging at him again and again with his axe, horrified by the determination on the Imperial’s face as he made one attempt after another to cleave him in half. 

The room, cluttered as it was with crates and stacks of shelves, was definitely not spacious enough to keep up these kinds of manoeuvres. Fahjoth’s only saving grace was that the man, in his heavy armour and wielding his cumbersome battleaxe, was far slower in comparison to him. But the man also had the advantage of both facing ahead and knowing the layout of the room. Continually driven back by the pendulous momentum of the blade, Fahjoth’s heart leapt into his mouth as his heel suddenly collided with a small box on the floor. With an almighty crash, he plummeted straight to the ground, bashing his shoulders on a brass pipe mounted on the wall behind him.

He risked a glance upwards. The axe blade was poised high in the air once more, ready to come crashing down over his head and split his skull into two. With blood pounding in his ears and adrenalin flooding his system, Fahjoth launched himself into a clumsy barrel-roll, tumbling past the Imperial’s legs a mere heartbeat before the axe fell upon the pipe that he had been leaning against. 

There was an ear-splitting shriek of metal on metal, but that barely measured up to the scream of the Imperial as a scalding jet of steam suddenly erupted from the broken pipe, filling the room with a hot, dense white fog within seconds. Fahjoth didn’t stop to check on the state of the man as he heard the axe fall clattering to the floor — his only goal was to escape. Squinting through the mist, he dashed around the scattered shelves and crates and hurtled towards the door, but as he neared it, something caught his eye. 

A small bronze cube sat innocuously on a row of shelves to his right, and Fahjoth’s heart skipped a beat. Without pausing to examine it, he grasped the little box tightly in his hand and threw his whole body weight against the door to shove it open. 

What he hadn’t been expecting was the door to smack the Redguard from earlier in the face, knocking him back against the wall with a yell and leaving him in a dazed slump, blood already pouring from his now crooked nose. Which meant that—

Sure enough, the first Imperial stood slack-jawed at the top of the slope, flabbergasted by the sudden appearance of a strange Dunmer. It didn’t take long for him to recover, however, and Fahjoth’s breath caught in his throat as he saw the man reaching down to his waist where a dagger hung in its sheath.  Fahjoth didn’t hesitate; driven by sheer desperation, he charged straight ahead like a wild guar, bashing his shoulder hard against the Imperial’s as he legged it haphazardly down the rocky slope. There was a yell and a dull thud from behind him as the Imperial, pushed clean off the edge of the slope by the force of Fahjoth’s bash, collided with the ground, and Fahjoth could hear only too clearly the enraged shouts of a number of men from behind him as they began to give chase. He didn’t look back. 

With his gaze fixed ahead of him and mouth dry, the beating of his heart as well as own footsteps ringing in his ears, his face feeling hot and his lungs cramping as a result of the sweltering atmosphere in the subterranean ruins, Fahjoth put his every ounce of strength into fleeing. With the head start he had secured he was able to bolt up the opposite slope, clambering up into the entrance tunnels and sprinting the length of the dimly lit corridors to the exit. At last, he turned a corner and Arkngthand’s entrance, his passage to the safe haven that was the outside world, suddenly popped into view. He stopped only to twist the copper wheel powering the entrance mechanism, his hands slippery with sweat yet whizzing around faster than they had ever moved in his life until, with a telltale groan, the spherical door ground open and daylight flooded the gloom.

The voices behind him were getting louder, their vicious insults and threats echoing through the tunnels, and though Fahjoth’s muscles were screaming for respite, he didn’t halt. He took off, rushing out into the fresh air, where a cool breeze caressed his clammy skin as his hands worked to spin the outside wheel powering the door machinery. Glancing up, he saw two figures come loping through the darkness of Arkngthand’s tunnels — before the door rasped shut once more, obscuring them from sight completely. 

As dearly as he wished to collapse into an inert heap on the dusty ground, Fahjoth knew he couldn’t relax yet. It would be seconds before the men — looters? bandits? smugglers? — reopened the door and resumed their pursuit of him. So it was with trembling legs that he trotted down the hill back towards the bridge, breathing a sigh of relief as no sound to indicate that he was still being chased reached his ears. 

Finally, he began to feel as if he could slow down. Now, with the adrenalin beginning to subside, he was left acutely aware of the stitch tearing up his midsection and each step felt almost torturous. The fog of panic was beginning to dissipate from his head, leaving him able to think clearly at last.

He glanced down at the cube in his hand, cold and surprisingly heavy now that he really focused on it. He examined the inscriptions donning the sides, feeling a stab of anxiety— what if, after all that trouble, he had picked up the wrong cube? But the more he scrutinised it, he realised it was more or less a perfect match for Antabolis’ description. And then came the overwhelming euphoria. 

He’d done it!

A grin spread across Fahjoth’s features as he gazed at the cube, so wide it almost hurt his cheeks. His first mission had been a rousing success — alright, it had been far from perfect, but besides a few scuff marks on the chitin of his armour, it was near impossible to tell that he’d even faced a struggle at all. And surely his superiors didn’t need to know about his unfortunate encounter. Why, he hadn’t even used his sword—

Suddenly, Fahjoth threw up a hand and slapped his forehead, eyes squeezed tightly shut in annoyance and embarrassment. Blinded by fear, he’d completely forgotten about the perfectly good weapon that hung in a sheath from his belt. But the more he thought about it, the more he realised that he and his shortsword may not have been much of a match for the brute of a man wielding a battleaxe anyway. At least, not yet. That was something to focus on in training. 

An echoing clang roused him from his thoughts and announced that he’d set foot on the bridge, but as Fahjoth looked up, he was surprised to see a man standing ahead. He’d been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he’d completely failed to realise that he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t alarmed to see the grey-haired Imperial, but he did wonder what the older gentleman was doing out here in the middle of nowhere. 

“Ah, don’t mind me!” Fahjoth called to announce his presence, holding up a hand to signify that he was not hostile as he began to stride across the bridge. “Just, uh, heading home—”

His words abruptly died in his throat, however, as a pulsating ball of blinding light suddenly erupted from the man’s outstretched hand, hitting Fahjoth square in the chest and flinging him to the ground like a ragdoll. He yowled in pain as the electricity coursed through his body briefly before dissipating, leaving him gasping for breath and struggling to regain full control of his limbs. The Dwemer box had been thrown from his hand as he fell; it lay around two metres away, between himself and the battlemage, whose hand pulsed with a sinister indigo aura as a walking skeleton clutching a war-axe suddenly materialised into thin air beside him. 

“What are you doing—?!” Fahjoth yelled, wheezing after the collision with the hard metal base of the bridge knocked the air out of his lungs. “I’m not— I don’t want to fight you—!”

But the Imperial didn’t seem to be paying any heed. He summoned another spell, a blistering ball of flame that he launched at Fahjoth, who managed to avoid it by a whisker by frantically rolling to one side, although he still felt a scorching wave of heat as the fireball exploded on the spot where he had been lying a mere second prior. Scrambling to his feet, panic building once more, Fahjoth was faced with the man preparing another spell and the skeleton, an actual intact human skeleton, loping towards him, brandishing its rusted blade and its bones creaking as they scraped against each other with every movement. For a split second, Fahjoth’s hand twitched towards his sword — but another convulsing ball of sparks coming his way dissuaded him from that idea completely. This was certainly not a battle he had any chance of winning. 

He lunged for the ground just as the skeleton swung its axe for his head, and Fahjoth felt the blade skimming the top of his hair as he narrowly missed being struck by it. With fumbling fingers he grasped the cube and heaved himself back to his feet, dancing backwards to avoid the spells still being flung in his direction and to put as much distance as possible between himself and the skeleton. Except, now, he had another issue; his opponents were in the middle of the bridge, obstructing the way ahead and preventing his escape. Thinking fast, there was only one thing for it; Fahjoth clambered over the metal railing at the side of the bridge, desperate for an alternative escape route. He was close enough to the start of the bridge, it probably wouldn’t be too far a fall—

But the moment he put both feet on the railing, he felt himself losing his balance on the rounded surface. He had just enough time to catch a glimpse of the side of the crevasse below, the walls of which were much steeper than he had anticipated, before he lost his balance completely and felt himself plummeting down, his stomach lurching up sharply as he descended. With a strangled yelp he hit the rocky sides of the cleft and tumbled down the rest of the way to the base, almost choked by the dense cloud of dust he had disturbed on impact with the soil. Once again adrenalin overtook him, lending him the strength he needed to drag himself to his feet and stagger the width of the crevasse and over to the other side, his grazed fingers still firmly clutching the precious cube. He felt more than heard the crackling of spells as they went whistling past his head, and a scuffing against the ground behind him indicated that the skeleton had followed his path down into the chasm. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself into beginning the arduous climb back to the top of the crevasse, scrambling up the rock face and skidding on loose dirt before finally emerging at the top. From the corner of his eye he could see the battlemage running the length of the bridge, trailing Fahjoth like a hungry wolf while still firing hostile spells at him as he gave chase. 

With one last burst of energy Fahjoth broke into another furious dash, bolting down the hill and sprinting along the path he now found himself on. He didn’t stop to look back, to check if he was being followed. His only objective was to return to Balmora as fast as possible. His lungs screamed with every frantic gasp of air he drew in, his heart hammering against his ribcage and reverberating dully between his ears. It was only once he passed under the arch at the town entrance and fled into the sanctuary of Balmora did he finally stop, and, in a haze of pain, exhaustion and sickening dizziness, he promptly fell to his knees. 

As he kneeled there on the dusty ground, struggling to get his erratic breathing back under control, it was a few moments before Fahjoth could even begin to process his thoughts again. The first thing he noted was that he was safe now; he was back in civilisation at last. Numerous guards patrolled the streets, their helmed faces occasionally turning to look at the outlander collapsed into the dirt — probably with disdain but that was the least of Fahjoth's worries right now. With his chest feeling as though it was on fire, burning up from the inside with every inhalation, he closed his eyes and let the pleasant warmth of the late afternoon sun wash over him, easing the tension in his aching muscles. Finally, his breathing began to slow, allowing for more thoughts to surface in his troubled mind.

The truth had hit Fahjoth like a warhammer to the face. Today had been nothing short of a disaster. It was almost laughable to reminisce on how excited and confident he had been when he initially departed from Balmora. He struggled to believe that mere hours ago, he thought he was prepared for anything. What a ridiculous notion that was. How could he have been so naive? If that was only the first assignment Cosades had given him, he believed wholeheartedly that he needed the blessing of the gods to survive what else might lay in store. 

His eyes fell down to the little cube he still clutched in his bloodied hand, the sight inspiring bitterness in his sore chest. First things first, he needed to return it to Antabolis; truthfully, he would be glad to see the back of it. The last thing he wanted was a reminder of how disastrous his little mission had gone. With embarrassment and misery now settling in his gut and pain racking him with every movement, Fahjoth dragged himself to his feet and finally limped his way back to the Fighters Guild for a less-than-triumphant return. 

[akp-1327]

cherry blossom (tom sato x mc)

Hey everyone! This idea came about when the It Lives 3 announcement came out (🤧😭). I kinda poured all the sorrowful emotions I had into fluff-filled writing to make myself feel better...and, well...here we are one fic later. 

I hope you enjoy! :') 💕

Pairing: Tom Sato x MC (Scarlet Vance)

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Tom and Scarlet go to see the cherry blossoms in bloom.

"Tom Sato, have you seriously never seen a cherry blossom in bloom before?" Scarlet chided as she entered his workshop, her tone overflowing with both surprise and taunt.

Tom let out a sigh and turned his back to his latest project to find his wrench; his project was an old and rusty fishing boat that he'd eventually sell for a price that'd cover a month's rent.

"I haven't exactly had the time to," Tom smirked, turning the wrench to secure the final bolt of the day, "why? Are you...implying something?"

Scarlet couldn't help but roll her eyes as she tucked her long and free balayaged curls behind her ear.

"We haven't gone on a date in almost a month. A freaking month, Tom!" Scarlet laughed throwing her arms out. "I miss having you all to myself!"

Tom finally looked back at her, swiping a loose lock of his own black hair out of his eyes that had fallen out from it’s bun. While he was at it, he pushed his glasses up his nose.

"We live together! Aren't you sick of me?" Tom blushed, turning back to the fishing boat to avoid her gaze.

"No. If anything, I miss you. You're always working now. Whether that be here or for school or just at home doing who knows what." Scarlet said softly, creeping towards her boyfriend. Once she reached him, she wrapped him in her arms from behind and leaned her chin on his bare shoulder.

"I never get to see you anymore, Tom."

Tom failed to conceal a massive blush that made his skin burn, even hotter where he felt her gentle touch.

"You're lucky I finished my stuff for the day," Tom whispered, turning his head slightly to the right to brush his lips against her cheek, "because otherwise you would've made me behind."

"Why?" Scarlet questioned, her brows knitting together in genuine confusion. She held him a little tighter.

Tom let a laugh escape him. "Because we're going to see these cherry blossoms. Duh!"

Understanding filled Scarlet's expression, quickly being replaced by happiness. She pulled away and started to jump around.

"Yes! I knew you'd wanna do this!" Scarlet exclaimed, nearly hitting his tool table with her flailing hand. Tom smiled as he wiped off his hands with a grease-smeared towel.

"Well, when you have those puppy eyes, it's hard to deny you much of anything." Tom said, watching her with admiration.

*

*

The April sky above was clouded and the air around them was scented with teases of rain. Still, Tom and Scarlet walked hand in hand through a park that Scarlet found; it was brimming with cherry blossoms in bloom.

Scarlet's fingers laced with Tom's as she saw a glimpse of the light pink flowers through a crowding of various oak and pine trees.

"Found them!" Scarlet cheered, pointing towards the cherry blossoms. Tom looked over and saw the pink peeking through the green leaves.

"They're a lot pinker in person," Tom said, mostly to himself, "almost reminds me of--"

Scarlet cut his thought short with a gasp.

"Oh my God, Tom! Look over there!"

A path leading into a sea of pink trees had been the thing to catch Scarlet's eye. Anywhere Tom's eyes went...was pink.

"Oh, wow. That's awesome!" Tom grinned, pulling Scarlet along the path that they were on a little faster. "Come on!"

Scarlet laughed and let Tom drag her along until they were at the mouth of the path.

"That's a gorgeous picture just dying to be taken!" Scarlet said, gesturing to the area around them. Tom hummed in agreement as he watched Scarlet pull out her phone and pull up her camera.

"Ready?" Scarlet smiled, pressing her cheek to Tom's. They seldomly made a big deal about such "cheesy" things, but Scarlet was just so swept up in the beauty of the park behind them. She thought it'd look even better with their beauty captured in this photo, too.

Tom unwrapped his hand from hers and snaked his arm around her waist to pull her close instead. "You bet I am!"

With smiling faces, Scarlet captured the perfect picture. And then, Tom stealthily turned to press a kiss to her cheek as she was about to take another.

"Aah!" Scarlet beamed, turning to look Tom in the eye as she tucked her phone away. Once her hand was free, she wrapped both her arms around his neck. "What was that for?"

Tom's eyes traced her expression; a rare happiness and peace that he'd only seen once before.

"For fun, of course," Tom said, his hands landing on her hips, "and to show the world how much I love you."

Scarlet couldn't stop a bright smile from spreading across her face. But, before she could respond, Tom leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a soft and sweet kiss.

After a few moments of pure bliss, Scarlet pulled back and leaned her forehead against his.

"Tom, do you know what cherry blossoms represent?"

He shook his head.

"Renewal," Scarlet smiled, holding Tom tightly, "and you know what I think?"

Tom brushed his nose against hers. "Hmm?"

"I think it's about time that we renewed our premium arcade membership. That I will pay for." Scarlet laughed, giving his cheek a quick peck before she pulled away. Tom laughed gently, shaking his head.

“Was that brewing this entire time?” Tom laughed. Scarlet shook her head this time, fiddling with the sleeves on her jacket.

“Nope, I just really wanted you to see how pretty cherry blossoms are in person. Then I got to thinking about how we need to renew that membership for future dates of me kicking your arrogant booty at those games. So, actually, it was all spur of the moment.” 

“Wow, you really feel confident if you think you’ll beat me, you know.” Tom mumbled, reaching for her hand again.

“Beat you at what?”

Tom smirked cockily. “At literally anything in that arcade.”

Scarlet harshly bumped his shoulder with her own, causing him to stagger a bit on his feet. “Oh, shush! Who is the one in this relationship who kills the bugs in the bathroom?”

“Bugs are gross and scary! Video games aren’t terrifying mutants that hurt you for no reason!” Tom playfully argued, nudging her back so that she stumbled a bit, too.

“Tom, sweetie, you have killed real monsters with your bare hands and you still think spiders are scarier?” Scarlet laughed, stopping their trek through the canopy of pink flowers to catch her breath.

This moment, to them both, was a breath of fresh air. Nothing would ever come close to topping the time they spent together, no matter how cheesy it was (such as walking down a path that you’d see in any stereotypical romantic film).

“Yeah, but that was because I was protecting you! And, to back up my stance, you like bugs!” Tom said, making Scarlet’s heart leap out of her chest.

“Fair, fair. I do love my knight in shining armor, though. No matter if he has strange fears or not; that’s what I’m here for.” Scarlet smiled, standing at her full height and taking his hand in hers once more. She squeezed it tightly, hoping that her coded message of ‘I love you with everything I am and would literally do anything and everything to keep you safe’ finds its way across.

“And you say I’m the softie here.” Tom whispered, making them both start to laugh again; they both knew it was far from the truth.

“Mhmm...” Scarlet hummed, pulling on his hand to lead him further down the path, “let’s continue with this amazing walk and then go to the arcade. I feel like I’m ready to shoot some zombies or something.”

Tom bit his lip to try and hold back his smile to no avail. He just hid it from her by admiring the blooming cherry blossoms off to his right, turning away from her. “Sounds like a great date night to me.”

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Piggy’s Had Too Much Wine

This fic is highkey a vent because my younger brother is an asshole who never stops calling me fat

DISCLAIMER: By writing this fic I am not saying that Katy Richardson is fat. She is not. And even if she was, she would still be drop dead gorgeous. This is a fictional story about the character she plays, not her.

Word count: 3159

TW: Body shaming, body image issues, self harm

--------------------

  “Damn, girl, you got enough in your face?”

Joan looked up from the forkful of food she had just put in her mouth and blinked at Anne smirking across the table at her. She chewed slowly, like a sheep deep in thought, then said after swallowing, “Huh?”

Anne nodded at her meal. “You got a lot to eat there.”

  “I know,” Joan said, shifting in her seat. “I’m hungry.”

  “That’s new,” Cathy observed. “Usually you don’t like eating during lunch breaks at work.”

  “Well, we’re not at work,” Joan said. “This is a restaurant.”

  “We know that,” Cleves said. 

  “And the food is good here.” Joan went on hastily. “I like it.”

  “Maybe a little too much,” Kitty said from behind her glass, earning her a sharp, but wounded look from Joan, which she countered with a petty sip of her drink.

  “I’m paying, anyway,” Joan continued. “Why does it matter what I get?”   “It doesn’t, honey,” Aragon settled her. “Don’t worry about it.”

Joan nodded and then took another bite of her meal. She couldn’t help but feel a little awkward as she did so, as if she were eating like a pig out of a slop trough, but tried to ignore it. It was fine. Everybody had to eat. There was nothing embarrassing about it.

  “So…” Anne started again. Aragon gave her a warning look, but she either ignored it or didn’t see it. “What made you want to come out with us? Usually you never go out.”

Joan shrugged. “I got lonely. And there isn’t anything good to eat at my apartment, so…” She shrugged again.

  “Ah, so that explains why you’re stuffing your face like there’s no tomorrow,” Kitty nodded wisely.

Joan ruffled, face inflaming with red. “I said I was hungry!” She yelped, her voice pitching slightly.

  “Don’t get mad,” Kitty held her hand sup. “I thought you were just trying to starve yourself or something.”

  “You do never eat,” Jane put in her two cents.

  “Well, I am now,” Joan grumbled.

  “Do you have a date?” Cleves asked. “Maybe you’re looking for someplace good to take them?”

Anne snorted. “If Joan had a date, then I hope they have a belly kink because she’s going to be packing after this.” She took a sip of her drink, then breezily added, “More so than she usually is.”

A few giggles swept through the tables, while others snapped their heads around to gauge Joan’s reaction. And she did not look happy about what had been said.

Joan’s fork was raised up for her to take another bite, but frozen in midair. Bright red consumed her face like the blooming of a rose in spring. She unconsciously wrapped her free arm around her stomach while slowly setting her fork down with the other. She sat hunched against the table for a moment, then was grabbing her purse and dumping money out on the table.

  “You can pay with this,” She mumbled.

  “Come on, Joan,” Anne said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be such a baby. It was just a joke.”

But Joan doesn’t listen to her. She stood up and shoved her chair in roughly. Tears of humiliation could be seen shining in her eyes.

  “Oh my god,” Anne groaned. “Are you going to cry? Are you serious? You’re literally thinner than half of us here! What do you have to cry about? Or even be embarrassed about?”

Still, Joan doesn’t listen. She slung her purse of her shoulder and stormed out of the building, her arms wrapped firmly around her stomach the entire time.

------

When Joan got home, she shoved her fingers down her throat and cried. So much for a good meal. At least she got to pay for it.

------

That night, Joan stood in the shower with a box cutter poised over her exposed belly. She wondered what it would be like to find clarity in its blade. Cutting off pieces of herself would make her feel more whole. A heavy decision with a light outcome. It would just be like how they cut meat at slaughterhouses.

Make yourself an animal. Make yourself less human. It’ll make the process easier.

But the pain was bright and sharp and unbearable, even with the smallest of slices, and she threw the box cutter at the wall.

Joan sunk to the floor, sobbing, thin trails of blood running from her stomach. The water dissolved the red into unfolding petals of flowers across her pale skin before sliding into the drain.

What did she have to be embarrassed about?

She looked at herself in the mirror after getting out of the shower and asked herself this. What does she have that makes her so embarrassing? What does she have to hate?

She wasn’t overweight. She wasn’t obese. In most people’s terms, she was the normal example of thin. It was just her stomach, it wasn’t that bad, or that’s what they say.

  “You’re not even that big,” That’s because you haven’t seen her with her shirt off.

  “It’s just your stomach, it’s not even that bad,” But that’s what people see the most.

  “You aren’t fat so stop saying you are,” And she wished she could, but tell that to the insecurities rebounding inside of her head.

When she wears jeans, she has to pull the waistband up over her stomach or else she would be doing an impression of an English muffin for the entire day.

When she wears certain shirts, she has to suck in her stomach or else everyone will see the not-actual baby bump she’s sporting.

When people jokingly (or sometimes seriously) ask if she’s pregnant, she has to force herself to laugh along because if she shows that she’s offended they’ll pull out the “you’re not fat, you don’t know what it’s like, you have no right to be so whiny.”

When someone says they wished she had her body type, she has to act like it’s some worshiping compliment when really it just makes her feel guilty.

And she gets it, she does, she knows how hard it must be for actual overweight people, but goddamnit, when she heard someone point her body out so rudely, it was enough to destroy any confidence she had in herself.

She wanted to cut it all off. All of it. Until there’s nothing left but a gaping hole left in her abdomen from where her ugliness used to be.

If only.

------

Joan hadn’t expected not eating to be so goddamn hard. She only ate a few things a day, but having nothing at all was absolute torture. The fact that she couldn’t go twenty-four hours without food did not help her confidence in her weight or body, but it was also too much for her to handle. She /had/ to eat. She could find a different way to lose weight.

------

Exercise was a bust. Turns out she has really bad stamina. She threw up when she attempted to jog an entire trail. She walked the same trail the second time and still felt excruciating stitches in her side during the entire hike. And then she waterlogged herself and felt even sicker. AND THEN her legs were sore for days. She hated it.

------

When starving herself and jogging failed, Joan turned to the local gym. She bought herself a membership and went in with the most confidence she could muster. The first day, her foot slipped and she got her leg caught in the turning pedals of the bike machine. In her attempt to escape, she sprawled right out of the seat, screaming. She hasn’t gone back since.

------

Two weeks have passed since the incident at the restaurant. Joan was still thinking about it, no matter how hard she tried to distract herself. Anne’s words and the laughter that followed just kept rebounding through her skull.

Hunching over her work desk, Joan carefully felt her stomach. She hated how soft and pudgy it was, as if she were actually pregnant like how people liked to joke, but with a deflated baby. She poked the roll of fat and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Her nails curled into the skin as her anger mounted.

Why did she have to look like this? 

She had rewatched the recordings of the Sunday Sessions and noticed how much her stomach stuck out. Had she always looked that fat? Why didn’t anyone say something? Were they laughing at her while the Live went on? Were they looking? God, she even looks awful in her overalls. If she can’t wear her overalls anymore, then what’s the point of anything?

Joan whimpered. She scratched harder at her belly.

Cut it off. Cut it all off. Make herself good, whole, pretty. People will like her more. She’ll finally have friends. Yes. Yes. Good.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. Stinging pain streaked all across her poor tummy. Her fingernails were claws and she was marring herself.

Give them a reason to like her. Just don’t let them see what lies underneath. Just smile and be pretty and stay thin. Cut it off.

Joan wondered what would happen if she scratched too deep. What if her skin split open? She’s heard of evisceration that has happened like that, granted it usually wasn’t caused by excessive clawing because of body hatred. Would pulling out some of her organs make her thinner? Surely she didn’t need her large intestines /that/ much. It had it in its name- “large.” It’s too big. It takes up too much space in her. It’s definitely making her look so swollen and gross.

Pull it out

  “Joan?”

Joan’s hands froze. Her entire body froze. She swallowed thickly, shutting her eyes and cursing herself in her mind. Then, she’s wiping the tears from her face and turning to the queen in her doorway.

  “Yeah?” 

Jane peered at Joan curiously. Strangely, the usual annoyance in her gaze was missing. She even looked a little worried.

No, no-- Jane doesn’t care about her. Jane thought she was fat, just like everyone else.

  “Are you alright?” Jane asked.

  “What? Oh, yeah. I’m okay.” Joan said. She forced a light laugh. “I was watching some animal videos. You know The Dodo? God, those always make me cry! Don’t tell the director, please? I don’t want him to think I’m slacking.”

Jane looked at her computer screen, which definitely did not have an animal video on it, then nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

  “So, what did you need?” 

  “Oh, uh. Tim needs you. Something about lighting malfunction.” Jane said.

  “A music director’s work is never done,” Joan chuckled dryly. She got up and walked out into the hallway, Jane stepping back with her. When she closed the door, faint bloody smears were left on the knob.

She and Jane both noticed it, along with the blood on her fingertips, but neither said anything.

------

You lose weight when you’re stressed. You also gain weight when you’re stressed. The fact that Joan was worried that her costume was tighter than usual does not help the latter.

------

The costume was definitely tighter. Or maybe it was always this tight? NO, there’s no way… Well, whatever it is, it’s making the waistband cut uncomfortably into her belly when she sits down. But maybe it rupturing her organs from the tightness may not be so bad. The loss of mass inside of herself could help her lose weight.

------

Joan tried to not eat again. It’s working a little. She’s restraining herself well enough. But it’s awful, so awful. The hunger pains are the worst.

------

  “Joan?”

Joan turned to the doorway of her dressing room to see Aragon standing there. 

  “Yes?”

  “Are you almost done?” Aragon asked.

Joan furrowed her eyebrows at her paperwork. “No.”

  “Wonderful,” Aragon said. “Come on.”

Joan blinked. “What?”

  “Come on,” Aragon said again. “We’re going to my house for dinner.”

  “Wha-- But I said I had work?”

  “It doesn’t matter right now. Let’s go.”

Joan hesitated, then gathered her belongings and walked out with Aragon. If it weren’t for her undying loyalty to the queens and that she was kinda afraid of Aragon, she might have refused. Too late now, though.

  “What are we having?” Joan asked meekly on the drive to the queen’s house.

  “Lasagna,” Aragon answered. “And, no, before you ask, I’m not going to add every single existing spice into it.” She rolled her eyes. “Can you believe that Anne really thought that?”

That got a tiny giggle out of Joan. Aragon flashed her a quick smile, then focused on the road ahead of her.

  “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “I am a little,” Joan said, and that’s the moment her stomach decided to growl obviously loud. Her face flushed bright red and she wrapped her arms around her midsection as Aragon laughed.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Aragon chuckled.

Joan remained flustered for the rest of the short car ride. And then she was just embarrassed when they pulled up to the queen’s house and realized she was going to have to eat in front of them again. She was already preparing herself for the humiliation.

Weirdly, though, the house was empty when they walked in.

  “Everyone is out eating,” Aragon said, catching Joan’s confused expression. “So it’ll just be us.”

  “Oh… I’m sorry you had to miss that.”

Aragon waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. It’s quite alright. Now come help me reheat this lasagna.”

Half an hour later, they were eating. Except Joan just stared at her plate, wringing her hands anxiously in her shirt. Her stomach was dying for the freshly made lasagna, but she really didn’t want to add the calories to her already thick body.

  “Joan? Aren’t you going to eat?” Aragon asked.

  “Oh, uhh-- I’m not that hungry, actually.” Joan said.

  “But I thought you were earlier?”

  “That was earlier.” 

And then Joan’s stomach growled. Redness enveloped her face as she hunched her shoulders in and looked at the floor. Aragon gave her a sympathetic smile.

  “Eat, honey. Please.”

So Joan does eat. She eats more than she actually wanted and after four plates she feels stuffed and sick- both physically and mentally.

  “You really were hungry, huh?” Aragon mused, picking up Joan’s plate. Joan whimpered below her. Instantly, her maternal instincts flared to life. “Joan?” She knelt beside the chair and set a hand on Joan’s back. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Joan sobbed. She looked up at Aragon and tears were rapidly streaming down her cheeks.

  “Oh, sweetheart… Come here.” Aragon pulled Joan into her arms and the girl slid off the chair to be enveloped in them. She noted that Joan didn’t hug back, rather kept her hands firmly gripping her stomach. Things were starting to fall into place. “Shh, shh… It’s alright, baby. It’s alright.”

  “No, no,” Joan shook her head. “No, it’s not. It’s not, Catalina, I--” She practically screamed. “I hate myself so much.”

  “Joan…” Aragon helped Joan up so she could sit on the couch. The girl instantly curled into her upon sitting down. “Joan, honey, why? What’s wrong?”

  “I-I--” Joan cut herself off with a tight whine.

  “Is this about what Anne said?” Aragon asked.

Joan nodded with a feeble whimper.

Aragon looked absolutely enraged. “Goddamnit, that bitch--” She hissed. She pulled Joan against her firmly. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. This has been eating you up, hasn’t it?”

Joan nodded again. “It’s--it’s all I’ve been thinking about. It’s been killing me, Catalina, it’s been killing me…” She sobbed into Aragon’s chest. “A-and I know it’s stupid because I’m not overweight, not really, so I don’t have the right to complain, b-but--”

  “Oh no. Don’t you dare.” Aragon pushed Joan back and cupped her tear-stained face, making the girl look her in the eye. “Don’t you dare say that, Joan. You have every right to feel the way you do. You can be upset if you want to, regardless of your body type. You can be tall or short, black or white, skinny or fat- it isn’t just overweight people who have body image issues. So don’t be guilty over that, honey.” She brushed some hair out of Joan’s face. “But just know that the things you are thinking are not true.”

Joan pulled away and shook her head. “They are.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach again.

  “They are not.” Aragon said. “Joan, you are not fat.”

  “Yes I am!” Joan cried. “Have you SEEN my stomach? I’m fat, Catalina! I’m fat and gross and--” She dissolved into tears again.

  “I have seen your stomach, Joan.” Aragon said gently. “Am I supposed to be disgusted by it?”

Joan nodded, not looking at Aragon.

  “Why?”

  “B-because,” Joan stammered. “It’s ugly…”

  “Honey, you are not ugly.” Aragon said. “You are anything but ugly. You are very, very beautiful.”

Joan answered with only a tiny, “mmmm.”

Aragon pulled Joan back into her arms. Joan curled into them, her head finding its spot on her chest.

  “I don’t care about what you look like, baby. You’ll always be beautiful in my eyes. Not ugly or fat.” Aragon said.

  “P-please don’t say I’m not fat,” Joan begged quietly. “I-I can’t-- I can’t believe you. Not right now. It’s too-- I--”

  “Shh,” Aragon pressed her head underneath her chin. “I understand, honey. But just know my opinion will never change about you. You will always be my perfect girl.”

Joan sniffled. “R-really?”

  “Really.” Aragon confirmed.

Joan was quiet for a moment, then nodded. She finally hugged Aragon back, practically burying herself against the queen.

  “I-I don’t know how long it’ll take,” Joan whispered. “For me to not see myself the way I do…”

  “That’s alright,” Aragon said. “I’ll be here helping you every step of the way.”

  “Thank you.” Joan nuzzled into Aragon’s warmth. She winced when her stomach cramped. “I think I ate too much…”

  “Oh, my poor baby,” Aragon cooed. She lowered one hand and rubbed comforting circles against Joan’s belly. “I used to do this with Elizabeth, you know. She was such a fussy girl.” She chuckled. “Don’t tell her I told you that.”

Joan giggled. “Your secret is safe with me.” She leaned her head against Aragon’s chest and relaxed into the feeling gliding across her full stomach. “I can see why she liked this, though.”

  “Oh yeah?” Aragon smiled at her. “I’ll have to see if she still does, then. Ha, she would be so red!”

Another giggle. “She’d kill you.”

  “I’d like to see her try.”

Joan smiled slightly. Her hatred for her own body was still clouding her mind, and she knew she was going to continue to have problems over it in the near future, but it suddenly felt like they would be easier to deal with. She had someone who loved her, who thought she was perfect and beautiful, regardless of what she or her stomach looked like. 

Well. At least there was one good thing about having a soft, chubby tummy. More room to get belly rubs.