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causeiwanttoandican · 3 years

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Harry, Meghan and me: my truth as a royal reporter

I've covered elections and extremism, but nothing compares to the vitriol I've received since I started writing about the Sussexes

By Camilla Tominey, Associate Editor27 March 2021 • 6:00am

It is probably worth mentioning from the outset that I never, ever, planned to become a royal reporter. I mean, who does? It’s one of those ridiculous jobs most people fall into completely by accident.

I certainly wasn’t coveting the position when I first found out how bonkers the beat could be after covering Charles and Camilla’s wedding in 2005. Desperate for ‘a line’ on what went on at the reception, journalists were reduced to flagging down passing cars in Windsor High Street and interrogating the likes of Stephen Fry about whether they’d had the salmon or the chicken.

Watergate, this wasn’t.

Yet when my former editor called me into his office shortly afterwards and offered me the royal job ‘because you’re called Camilla and you dress nicely’, who was I to refuse?

Having planned to get married myself that summer, and start a family soon afterwards, I looked to the likes of Jennie Bond and Penny Junor and figured it would be a good patch for a working mother as well as being one I could grow old with. Unlike show business, when celebrities are ‘in’ one minute and ‘out’ the next, the royals would stay the same, making it easier to build – and keep – contacts.

So if you’d told me that 16 years later, I would find myself at the centre of a media storm over a royal interview with Oprah Winfrey, I’d have probably laughed in your face. First of all, only royals like Fergie do interviews with Oprah. And since when did journalists become the story?

Yet as I have experienced since the arrival of Meghan Markle on the royal scene in 2016 – a move that roughly coincided with Twitter doubling its 140-character limitation to 280 – royal reporters like me now find themselves in the line of fire like never before.

We are used to the likes of Kate Adie coming under attack in the Middle East, but now it is the correspondents who write up events like Trooping the Colour and the Royal Windsor Horse Show having to take cover from the keyboard warriors supposedly defending the Duke and Duchess of Sussex’s ‘truth’.

Accusations of racism have long been levelled against anyone who has dared to write less than undiluted praise of Harry and Meghan. But even I have been taken aback by the vitriol on social media in the wake of the couple’s televised two-hour talk-a-thon, in which they branded both the Royal family and the British press racist while complaining about their ‘almost unsurvivable’ multimillionaire lives at the hands of the evil monarchy. And all while the rest of the UK were losing their loved ones and livelihoods in a global pandemic.

Having covered Brexit, general elections and stories about Islamic extremism, I’ve grown used to being sprayed with viral vomit on a fairly regular basis, but when you’ve got complete strangers trolling your best friend’s Instagram feed by association? That’s Britney Spears levels of toxic.

Having a hind thicker than a rhino’s, it wasn’t the repeated references to my being ‘a total c—’ that particularly bothered me, nor even the suggestion that I should have my three children put up for adoption. At one point someone even said it would be a good idea for me to drink myself to death like my mother, about whose chronic alcoholism I have written extensively.

No, what really got me was the appalling spelling and grammar. I mean, if you’re going to hurl insults, at least have the decency to get my name right.

Yet in order to understand just how it has come to pass that so-called #SussexSquaders think nothing of branding all royal correspondents ‘white supremacists’ regardless of who they write for, or sending hate mail to our email addresses, offices – and in some cases, even our homes – it’s worth briefly going to back to when I first broke the story that Prince Harry was dating an American actor in the Sunday Express on 31 October 2016. Headlined: ‘Royal world exclusive: Harry’s secret romance with TV star’, the splash revealed how the popular prince was ‘secretly dating a stunning US actress, model and human rights campaigner’.

Despite my now apparently being on a par with the Ku Klux Klan for failing to acknowledge Meghan as the next messiah, it was actually not until the fifteenth paragraph of that original article that the ‘confident and intelligent’ Northwestern University graduate was described as ‘the daughter of an African-American mother and a father of Dutch and Irish descent’.

Call me superficial, but I was genuinely far more interested in the fact that Harry ‘I-come-with-baggage’ Wales was dating a former ‘briefcase girl’ from the US version of Deal or No Deal than the colour of her skin. A ginger prince punching well above his weight? This was the stuff of tabloid dreams. Little did I know then that covering the trials and tribulations of these two lovebirds would turn into such a nightmare.

The online hostility began bubbling up about eight days after that first story, when Harry’s then communications secretary Jason Knauf issued an ‘unprecedented’ statement accusing the media of ‘crossing a line’.

‘His girlfriend, Meghan Markle, has been subject to a wave of abuse and harassment’, it read, referencing a ‘smear on the front page of a national newspaper; the racial undertones of comment pieces; and the outright sexism and racism of social media trolls and web article comments’. Meghan’s mother, Doria Ragland, had apparently been besieged by photographers, while bribes had been offered to Meghan’s ex-boyfriend along with ‘the bombardment of nearly every friend, coworker, and loved one in her life’.

Suffice to say, I did feel a bit guilty. Although I hadn’t written anything remotely racist or sexist, I had started the ball rolling for headlines like the MailOnline’s ‘(Almost) straight outta Compton’ (referencing a song by hip-hop group NWA about gang violence and Meghan’s upbringing in the nearby LA district of Crenshaw), along with her ‘exotic’ DNA (which I subsequently called out, including on This Morning in the wake of ‘Megxit’ in January last year).

Omid Scobie, co-author of Finding Freedom, a highly favourable account of the Sussexes’ departure from the Royal family, written with their cooperation last summer, would later insist that the couple knew the story of their relationship was coming out and were well prepared for it.

I can tell you categorically that they weren’t, since I did not even put a call into Kensington Palace before we went to press for fear of it being leaked. (I did later discuss this with Harry, when I covered his trip to the Caribbean in November 2016, and to be fair he was pretty philosophical, agreeing it would have come out sooner or later. But that was before the former Army Captain decided to well and truly shoot the messenger, latterly telling journalists covering the newly-weds’ tax-payer-funded October 2018 tour of Australia and the south Pacific: ‘Thanks for coming, even though you weren’t invited.’)

The royal press pack is the group of dedicated writers who cover all the official engagements and tours on a rota system, in exchange for not bothering the royals as they go about their private business. It was a shame this ragtag bunch, of which I am an associate member, was never personally introduced to Meghan when the couple got engaged in November 2017.

I still have fond memories of a then Kate Middleton, upon her engagement to Prince William in November 2010, showing me her huge sapphire and diamond ring following a press conference at St James’s Palace with the words, ‘It was William’s mother’s so it is very special.’

I replied that she might want to consider buying ‘one of those expanding accordion style file holders’ to organise all her wedding paperwork. (Reader, I had given birth to my second child less than four months earlier and was still lactating.)

Not meeting Meghan did not stop royal commentators like me writing reams about her being ‘a breath of fresh air’ and telling practically every TV show I appeared on that she was the ‘best thing to have happened to the Royal Family in years’.

As the world followed the joyous news of the Windsors’ resident strip billiards star having finally found ‘the one’, the couple enjoyed overwhelmingly positive press culminating in their fairy-tale wedding in May 2018, which we headlined ‘So in love’ above a picture of the bride and groom kissing. I tweeted the wedding front page, along with the original story breaking the news of their relationship with the words, ‘Job done’. Yet, as Meghan would later point out in a glossy Santa Barbara garden, that was by far the end of the story.

According to the Duchess’s testimony before a global audience of millions, the seeds for their royal departure were actually sown by an article I wrote in November 2018 suggesting she made Kate cry during a bridesmaid’s dress fitting for Princess Charlotte.

Claiming the ‘reverse happened’, the former Suits star railed, ‘A few days before the wedding she was upset about something, pertaining to, yes, the issue was correct, about flower-girl dresses, and it made me cry, and it really hurt my feelings.’

She then went on to criticise the palace for failing to correct the story – suggesting that royal aides had hung her out to dry to protect the Duchess of Cambridge.

All of which left me in a bit of a sticky situation. As I told Phillip Schofield on This Morning the following day, ‘I don’t write things I don’t believe to be true and that haven’t been really well sourced.’

Having seemingly been completely bowled over by Meghan’s version of events, Schofe then went for the jugular: ‘I have to say, though, that’s all addressed in that interview, isn’t it, because she [Meghan] couldn’t understand why nobody stood up for her?’

Yet someone had stood up for her, on that very same This Morning sofa: me.

As I told Phil and Holly on 14 January 2019, as more reports of ‘Duchess Difficult’ started to emerge, ‘I think she [Meghan] is doing really well, she looks amazing, she speaks well. She has played a blinder.’

So you’ll forgive me if I can’t quite understand why Meghan didn’t feel the need to correct this supposedly glaring error once she had her own dedicated head of communications from March 2019 – or indeed when she ‘collaborated’ with Scobie, who concluded in his bestselling hagiography that ‘no one cried’?

Moreover, how did the Duchess know a postnatal Kate wasn’t ‘left in tears’? And if she doesn’t know, what hope has the average troll observing events through the prism of their own deep-rooted insecurities?

It appears the actual truth ceases to matter once sides have been taken in the unedifying Team Meghan versus Team Kate battle that has divided the internet.

Make no mistake, there are abject morons at both extremes spewing the sort of bile that, ironically, makes most of the media coverage of Harry and Meghan look like a 1970s edition of Jackie magazine.

It perhaps didn’t help my case that the day before the interview was aired in the US, I had written a lengthy piece carefully weighing up the evidence behind allegations of ‘outrageous bullying’ that had been levelled against Meghan during what proved to be a miserable 20 months in the Royal family for all concerned.

The messages – to my Twitter feed, my email, my website and official Facebook page – ranged from the threatening, to the typical tropes about media ‘scum’ and the downright bizarre. Some accused me of being in cahoots with Carole Middleton, with whom I have never interacted, unless you count a last-minute Party Pieces purchase in a desperate moment of poor parental planning.

Another frequent barb was questioning why the press wasn’t writing about that ‘pedo’ [sic] Prince Andrew instead – seemingly oblivious to the fact that no one would know about the Duke of York’s links to Jeffrey Epstein if it wasn’t for the acres of coverage devoted to the story by us royal hacks over recent years.

It didn’t matter that I had repeatedly torn the Queen’s second, and, some say, favourite son to pieces for everything from his propensity to take his golf clubs on foreign tours to that disastrous Newsnight interview.

Contrary to the ‘invisible contract’ Harry claims the palace has with the press, royal coverage works roughly like this: good royal deeds = good publicity. Bad royal deeds = bad publicity. We effectively act as a critical friend, working on behalf of a public that rightly expects the royals to take the work – but not themselves – seriously.

So when a royal couple preaches about climate change before taking four private jets in 11 days, it is par for the course for a royal scribe to point out the inconsistency of that message. None of it is ever personal, as evidenced by the fact that practically every member of the monarchy has come in for flak over the years.

If Oprah wasn’t willing to point out the discrepancies in Harry and Meghan’s testimony, surely it is beholden on royal reporters to question how the Duchess had managed to undertake four foreign holidays in the six months after her wedding, in addition to official tours to Italy, Canada, and Amsterdam, as well as embarking on a lengthy honeymoon, if she had ‘turned over’ her passport?

While no one would wish to undermine the extent of her mental health problems, could it really be true that she only left the house twice in four months when she managed to cram in 73 days’ worth of engagements, according to the Court Circular, in the 17 months between her wedding and the couple’s departure to Canada?

And what of the ‘racist’ headlines flashed up during the interview purporting to be from the British press, when more than a third were actually taken from independent blogs and the foreign media? The UK media abides by the Independent Press Standards Organisation’s Code of Conduct ‘to avoid prejudicial or pejorative reference to an individual’s race’, as well as by rigorous defamation laws. And rightly so – the British press doesn’t always get it right. But social media is the Wild West by comparison, publishing vile slurs on a daily basis with impunity.

Some therefore find it strange that such a litigious couple would claim to have been ‘silenced’ when they have made so many complaints, including resorting to legal action, over stories they claim not to have even read. There is something similarly contradictory about a couple accusing the tabloids of lacking self-reflection while refusing to take any blame at all – for anything.

In any normal world, informed writing on such matters would be classed as fair comment, but not, seemingly, on Twitter where those completely lacking any objectivity whatsoever are only too willing to virtue signal and manoeuvre.

As the trolling reached fever pitch in the aftermath of the interview, veteran royal reporter Robert Jobson of the Evening Standard called me. ‘Don’t respond to these freaks,’ he advised. ‘It’s getting nasty out there. Watch your back!’

Yet despite my general sense of bewilderment at the menacing Megbots, I can’t say it didn’t appal me to discover a close friend had received online abuse, purely by dint of being my mate. After discussing the lengths the troll must have gone to to track her down, she asked me, ‘Do you ever worry someone might do something awful to you?’ Er, not until now, no.

Of course it’s upsetting, even for a cynical old-timer like me. Worse still are people who actually know me casting aspersions on my profession on social media. Often these are the same charlatans who would think nothing of sidling up to me for the latest gossip on the Royal family, while publicly pretending that reading any such coverage is completely beneath them.

Most pernicious of all though – not least after Piers Morgan’s departure from Good Morning Britain following a complaint to ITV and Ofcom from the Duchess – is the corrosive effect this whole hullabaloo is having on freedom of speech. When you’ve got a former actor effectively editing a British breakfast show from an £11 million Montecito mansion, what next?

I cannot help but think we are in danger of setting race relations back 30 years if people are seriously suggesting that any criticism of Meghan is racially motivated. It’s the hypocrisy that gets me. When Priti Patel was accused of bullying, the very same people who willingly hung the Home Secretary out to dry are now the ones defending Meghan against such claims, saying they have been levelled at her simply because she is ‘a strong woman of colour’.

Of course journalists should take responsibility for everything they report and be held to account for it – but Harry and Meghan do not have a monopoly on the truth simply because the close friend and neighbour who interviewed them in return for £7 million from CBS took what they said as gospel.

If she isn’t willing to probe the disparity between Meghan saying someone questioned the colour of Archie’s skin when she was pregnant, and Harry suggesting it happened before they were even married, then someone must. There’s a name for such scrutiny. It’s called journalism.

The public reserves the right to make up its own mind – with the help of the watchful eye of a free and fair press. But that press can never be free or fair if journalists do not feel they can report without fear or favour. I’m lucky that a lot of the criticism I face is more than balanced out by hugely supportive members of the public and online community who either agree – or respect the right to disagree. Along with the hate mail, I have had many thoughtful and eloquent missives, including those that good naturedly challenge what I have written in the paper or said on TV, which have genuinely given me pause for thought.

I am more than happy to enter into constructive discourse with these correspondents, who are frankly sometimes the only people who keep me on Twitter. I mean, let’s face it, I wouldn’t be anywhere near the bloody thing if this wasn’t my day job.

With the National Union of Journalists this month declaring that harassment and abuse had ‘become normalised’ within the industry, never have members of Britain’s press needed more courage. As Winston Churchill famously said, ‘You have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life.’

Who would have thought that the preservation of the fundamental freedoms that we hold so dear should partially rest on the shoulders of those who follow around a 94-year-old woman and her family for a living?

If I’d known then what I know now, would I still have written the bridesmaid’s dress story?

Yes – doubtlessly reflecting sisterly sobs all round. But after two decades in this business, I am clear-eyed enough to know this for certain: whatever I had written, it would still have ended in tears.

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bts-bay-bee · 4 years

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↳ pairing: park jimin x reader

↳ genre: smut, fluff, a tiny bit of angst if you squint

↳ summary: teaching your cold boss to love might just be the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

↳ warnings: CEO!jimin, cold!jimin, dom!jimin, assistant!reader, cursing, male masturbation, fantasizing (?), vaginal fingering, oral (male and female receiving), cum eating, marking, daddy kink, pussy slapping, praise kink (kinda?), choking, handcuffs, nipple clamps, clit massager, multiple orgasms, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), degradation (slight)

↳ word count: 13 066

↳ meaning of blue: heaven. authority. cold. wet. slow. depression. trust. intelligence.

“Is he here yet?” You asked, out of breath as you ran to your desk at work. The office secretary shook her head, no, making you sigh out in relief. You had been massively late for work which ended up with you running up the many flights of stairs – in heels – deeming the elevator too slow to get you to your office.

You flashed the office secretary a huge smile, hoping that would further prod her to cover up for your tardiness, before walking over to your office, which was conveniently located right next to your boss’s much larger, much sleeker office.

Park Jimin had been your boss for the better part of five years now. You had undertaken the job when you had finished high school, looking for anything and everything to bring any amount of money into your bank account. University tuition fee statements were your personal version of hell; the obscenely large number crushed any of the dreams you once had. But then came along Mr Park.

When he had seen your curriculum vitae, he had immediately been intrigued. Back then he wasn’t CEO of the company, but he had started to quickly move up the proverbial ranks, which allowed him to finally acquire a personal assistant to handle the lesser tasks. A high school graduate – with straight A’s in every subject – hadn’t chosen to go to college? That’s what had made him so intrigued with you. In a few short hours after he had first reviewed your resume, you had gone through a short telephonic interview then you had been asked to come in for a trial period. One which you had passed with flying colours.

Jimin couldn’t help himself but ask about your lack of tertiary education. With a flushed face and shaking hands, you embarrassedly told him about your lack of funds. It was only embarrassing because here you were talking about your financial issues to a man who had a year’s worth of tuition on his wrist in the form of a shiny gold Rolex. Another year’s worth of tuition was probably wrapped around his ring finger, because of course no man as rich, successful and not to mention handsome wouldn’t have a wedding ring on.

Jimin’s wife, Irene – who you had only met a handful of times – was the complete opposite of the warm, caring man. She was cold and distant, even towards her husband, who was supposedly her high school sweetheart. How they managed to stay together for so long boggled your mind. Slowly, you started to see Jimin change. His once fond smile slowly disappeared, now being replaced by a cold, grim straight line. He stopped caring about the people he worked with. He even began to sneer at lesser workers, not bothering to greet the janitors or the office secretary.

Sitting at your shiny, mahogany desk you began to review emails for Jimin, sifting through the numerous subject lines and forwarding the emails to him so that he could take care of them. At around 10am you left your desk, realising that you had to make Jimin coffee. After adding the espresso shot and steamed milk into the coffee mug, you walked to the large door of Jimin’s office, knocking three times before waiting for a response.

“Enter.” His voice was clipped, meaning he was already in a foul mood.

You quietly pushed down the door handle and entered, your eyes trained on the floor as you made your way to his desk. Without speaking you placed the steaming cup of coffee in front of him, then began to make your way back to your office. Jimin hadn’t taken his eyes off of his large LCD screen, not paying you any attention. However, before you could take a step away from him, his cold, hard voice reached your ears.

“Take a seat, Miss L/N.”

Oh, you were screwed. There was no two ways about it.

“Yes, Sir.”

He never told you to sit after bringing him his coffee. Taking a deep breath, you turned back to face him and took a seat on the edge of the plush chairs. Jimin’s cold eyes still trailed over his monitor, making you squirm slightly from awkwardness. What did he want? He hadn’t asked you to sit with him since… Well, since before he was married. This just wasn’t something you did anymore.

After what seemed like hours, he lifted his eyes from the harshly lit screen, bring his eyes to your own. Flushing a light shade of pink, you cleared your throat and looked down again. You didn’t want to disrespect him by staring right back at him.

“Where’s your coffee?” He quietly asked, picking up his mug.

“I, uh… I didn’t make myself any, Sir.” You replied, eyes trained on your twiddling thumbs. He sighed, rolling his chair back slightly so that he was more comfortable.

“Don’t you want to go make yourself a cup? I need to speak to you about something.” Jimin said, loosening the tie he had dawned today slightly. You were frozen in the leather chair – had you done something wrong? Was he going to fire you? He noticed you hadn’t moved, which caused him to frown. “Is the idea of drinking coffee with me really that appalling, Y/N?”

“No! I just…” You began, wringing your hands nervously, your eyes still not leaving them. “Are you going to fire me?”

Jimin looked at you, stunned. “Why would think that?”

“Well… I was a little late for work today, and you asked me to sit down. You don’t ask me to sit down and have coffee with you, Sir. It was almost as if you were going to give me bad news.”

“I used to always ask you to have coffee with me, Y/N.” He replied, frowning slightly. He knew that you used to have coffee with him on a daily basis, usually to discuss the work for the day, but coffee, nonetheless. He also knew that at one point you used to meet his eyes when you spoke to him. When did that change? “Why aren’t you looking at me?”

“What did you want to talk to me about?” You asked, avoiding his question that you had no nice answer to. Did he really want to hear that his wife berated you repeatedly for working with him so closely? For looking at him when he spoke to you, and vice versa?

Jimin eyed you warily. “Are you sure you don’t want coffee?” You nodded wordlessly, only making him deepen his frown. Nevertheless, he ploughed on, settling on the fact that this was now what your relationship had been reduced to. “I have a promotion of sorts for you. Well, in actual fact, it’s just a favour for me. A rather large favour.”

“Sir?” You prodded, urging him to speak when he had stopped. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes out of sheer tiredness. He had been awake all night, thinking about how to ask you this.

“As you know, Irene and I have been separated for some time now.” He began, making you reel with shock. When did they split up?! And why did he think that you knew about it? “We recently decided to finalise it and get a divorce. She left last week. She left Ezra with me.”

Ezra is Jimin’s five-year-old son. Despite his mother being an absolute witch and his father turning colder with each passing day, he was still a respectful boy. Like Irene, you hadn’t really seen him that many times.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” You softly replied, not knowing what else to say. Where was this going? “I didn’t know this had been happening, Sir.”

Jimin shrugged, not really worried about the fact that he was divorced. That’s not what had been bothering him. “It’s not a big deal. It’s not like we were ever actually in love. Anyway, Irene isn’t what I need to speak to you about. It’s Ezra.”

“I’m sure this has been very taxing on him too.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. You still didn’t know where this was going, and it was driving you crazy.

“He’s too young to really understand what’s been happening.” He replied, his jaw clenched, angry at himself for not being able to articulate why he so desperately needed your help.

“I, um… I’m not really the domestic type. I don’t know how to cook. I don’t know how to take care of a child. I’ve been dropping Ezra off at my parents every day since Irene left, but I don’t want him to grow up spending most of his day at someone else’s house. He should be at his home. And, I know, I can hire someone to babysit him, but he’s still so young to be left with strangers, and I don’t want to put his life in unnecessary danger. I mean, you never know what these people could be behind a façade –”

“Sir, where do I fit in?” You asked, amused at his rambling. This isn’t the cold CEO that you became used of. This was the old Jimin, the Jimin that had actually been interested about his employees, regardless of the amount on their pay cheque.

He cleared his throat, a slight blush on his cheeks. “I know that you’re not under any obligation to help me, but I trust you more than anyone else in my life, Y/N. I need… I need someone to help me with Ezra. Not just with Ezra, but with the whole domestic thing.”

“Mr Park, I still don’t know where I fit in.” You said soothingly, getting somewhat of an idea of what he was asking you.

He ran his hand though his styled blonde hair in exasperation. Why couldn’t he just say what he needed from you? “Move in with me.” Shit. That’s not how he had meant to phrase it.

You choked on nothing; the way he had blurted it out had surprised you, which ended up with you looking up at him with watery eyes from a lack of oxygen. He immediately jumped out of his chair and rushed over to you, lightly tapping your back until you could breathe easily again. Having him this close to you made you even more nervous than you already were. After your choking ordeal was over, he surprised you by taking a seat next to you instead of going to the other side of the desk. His cologne wafted over you, dosing you in his masculine scent. It honestly made you more nervous that you already were.

“Move in with you?” You repeated, in a small voice. Jimin looked mortified at your reaction, mentally bashing himself for even thinking of asking you this. But he was already in too deep to change the narrative.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. Obviously, you wanted to help him – you want to help everyone around you. It was just who you were as a person. But how would it look? The world you lived in was a rather nasty, judgemental one.

“Sir… Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but what would people think? You barely finalised your divorce and you already have another woman moving in?”

“Just temporarily.” He weakly replied, embarrassment showing on his cheeks. “Of course, I know that this is such a huge favour to ask, I know it’s odd, but I wouldn’t be asking this of you if I wasn’t completely out of options.”

You bit your lower lip, then sighed. Curse your soft heart. Running a hand through your hair, you nodded to him. “We have a lot more to discuss, but when can I move in?”

***

“This is the living room… This is the kitchen… Your bedroom is upstairs, next to mine.” Jimin timidly said, scratching the back of his reddened neck. This nervous side of Jimin was quite new, and you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t make you amused. Ever since you drove into the driveway five minutes ago, he had been stumbling over his words, tripping over nothing and wringing his hands.

“Sir, are you okay?” You asked before you could stop yourself. He caught your eye, opening his mouth to brush you off, but was left speechless when you didn’t shy away from his gaze. His mouth curved into a soft smile, realising that it was just you. There was no reason to be a nervous, rambling mess.

“I’m fine, Y/N.” He murmured, seeing the way your eyes danced with amusement. Who would’ve thought that the cold, cutthroat CEO would be rendered speechless from having his personal assistant in his home? “I’ve been thinking… I mean, you are essentially going to be living here for a while. I don’t want you to feel as if you’re forced to maintain a professional persona the entire time. Call me Jimin.”

“Okay, Si – Jimin.” You replied, quickly catching yourself. The feel of his name on your tongue foreign yet… Right. Jimin smiled at you, his nervousness of having you in his house now forgotten. Who would’ve thought that all it took to get rid of them was just one look into your eyes? But now his stomach was twisting for a different reason. Why did it flip when you said his name?

“Where’s Ezra?” Your question hung in the air as he abandoned any thought about the butterflies wreaking havoc in the pit of his tummy. Almost as if saying his name summoned him, the boy suddenly appeared to walk down the stairs. His dark hair was greatly contrasted by his honeyed skin; his cheeks so full that they gently shook with every step he took. Ezra was truly the miniature version of Jimin.

He bowed to his father almost a little too fast, making you raise your eyebrow. Upon setting his eyes on his son, Jimin stood up even straighter than he already was and lifted his chin, regarding Ezra with cold eyes.

“This is Y/N.” Jimin told the young boy, his jaw clenched. Jimin almost seemed angry at Ezra. “She’s going to be helping us while your mother is away.”

***

“Good morning, Ezra.” You sang softly as you slowly opened the curtains in his bedroom. You saw his eyes peak up at you through the covers of his grey blanket, then abruptly squint when the sun’s rays hit them. “Did you sleep well?”

“Hmm.” He mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The long sleeves of his blue pyjamas flopped over the tips of his fingers, only increasing the cuteness currently assaulting your eyes. You smiled at him, hoping that today was the day that he completely opened up to you – having already been here for two weeks surely must’ve made him somewhat comfortable with you, right?

“How about after you get bathed and changed, we have pancakes for breakfast?” You suggested as you ran your hands through his messy bedhead, smoothing the black tufts of hair. Ezra said nothing, instead he nodded at you, sleep still quite evident in his eyes.

After tidying up Ezra’s room, you walked into the kitchen with the intent of making some coffee for Jimin and yourself. As you put a couple scoops of ground coffee beans in the machine, you began prepping the ingredients for breakfast. If you worked fast enough, Jimin might be able to eat before he goes to the office. Humming as you gracefully moved throughout the kitchen, you quickly lost track of time.

“Are you… Making pancakes?” Jimin incredulously asked, eyes sweeping over the stack of pancakes that he found next to you on the counter. You hummed, flashing him a small smile, before going back to flipping the golden pancakes in front of you.

This was the first time that he had seen you in your natural state – usually you were already showered and changed before he even woke up, but today you just didn’t feel like keeping up the pretence. You were basically going to be living here for a couple more weeks – you didn’t feel like faking how organised you were as soon as you woke up. Even though you did feel kind of insecure and quite frankly embarrassed about the way you were dressed at the moment, Jimin felt totally different. Of course, he knew that you were gorgeous, but with your hair pulled in a messy bun and your thighs on display thanks to your sleeping shorts, Jimin just couldn’t help but stare at you.

His eyes studied the exposed flesh of your legs, unknowingly biting his plump lip when you turned around to get something from the cupboard behind you. Jimin only tore his eyes away from your unmarred skin when Ezra climbed onto the stool next to him.

You smiled at Ezra as you placed a stack of pancakes in front of him, the breath-taking curve of your pink lips were enough to make Jimin reciprocate the action, even though it wasn’t even being directed at him. When did he become to enamoured with you? Was it when you agreed to help him in his desperate time of need, or long before that? He couldn’t help but think that you were somewhat like a guardian angel – his own, personal angel, who makes his day a little brighter.

“Jimin? Jimin? Jimin!” You called, trying to capture his attention. He had spaced out, not realising that both you and Ezra had been attempting to talk to him. You nudged his shoulder gently, causing him to finally get out of his daydream and look at you confused. “We’ve been trying to speak to you. You kind of entered your own world there.” You explained to him, unable to prevent the tiny laughter from leaving your mouth.

Ezra had long since given up trying to talk to his father; any five year old child would want their father’s attention, but Ezra (even at his tender age) knew that his relationship with Jimin was somewhat strained; his father had already been corrupted by the cold CEO attitude to ever give him any attention. This was why Ezra was already almost done with his stack of pancakes – he didn’t want to spend any more time with Jimin than needed. Well, he knew that Jimin didn’t want to spend any more time with him than needed.

“I’m sorry, I was… Thinking.” Jimin apologised sheepishly, making Ezra confused. For as long as he had been alive, he hadn’t heard his father utter an apology. Not even to his mother. But Ezra was already confused – not once had his mother ever made him breakfast, let alone eat breakfast together. Was this what a normal family did every day? “What were you saying, Y/N?”

“I was wondering if it would be okay for me to take Ezra to the craft store today.” You repeated, nervously. “Ezra likes to draw and paint, and so do I, so I wanted to get us some more supplies –” Jimin didn’t even wait for you to finish before sliding his credit card over to you, making you look at him confused. “I wasn’t hinting for money, Sir, I just wanted to take Ezra with me.”

“I know, but please take it.” He murmured, dropping his gaze to the delectable stack of food in front of him. “And what did we talk about, Y/N? Stop calling me Sir. I’m not your boss here. Think of this as your home.”

“It’s just a habit…” You awkwardly explained, trying not to make too much a fool of yourself, as Ezra hopped down the chair and went to wash his hands. “It feels disrespectful to call you anything other than Sir.”

“I remember that you used to call me Chim before.” He muttered, thinking back to when you had first started at the company. You had been so playful with him, something that he misses dearly. His admission made you blush a deep scarlet. How did he even remember something as trivial as a stupid nickname?

As you opened your mouth to respond, you heard Ezra struggling to reach the faucet in the basin. Before you could turn to help him, he frantically hit the tap falling to the floor, subsequently turning the water on to a very high pressure. You suddenly felt water spray everywhere, falling all over the granite top, the floor, as well as you and Ezra.

You quickly shut the tap off, ignoring the water dripping down your face and checked to see if Ezra was fine.

“Are you okay, baby?” You murmured, wiping the water off of his face as his eyes filled with tears. “Did you get hurt?”

“Why didn’t you ask one of us for help?” Jimin asked in a firm voice, anger obviously showing on his face and in his voice. “Now look at what you’ve done!”

Ezra doesn’t respond to either of you. Instead, he took one look at Jimin’s face and ran out the kitchen, tears streaming down his face. You stood up and looked at Jimin in disbelief.

“It was just a mistake, Jimin. There was no need for you to speak to him like that.” You said stiffly, trying not to let your irritation shine through. You turned away from him, quickly cleaning up the water before ignoring Jimin’s silence and walking up the stairs into Ezra’s room.

Jimin really didn’t mean to do what he did. It came from years and years of being forced to be strict and abrupt with his employees. He meant to tell you that – he really did. But when you angrily snapped at him with a soaking wet, white shirt, he lost all train of thought. The water had turned the material see-through, showing off your plump tits, even flaunting the darker ring of your nipple. He was so lucky you were not there to see him frozen, mind unable to function from seeing your breasts.

‘Stop acting like some fucking schoolboy,’ he chided himself as he fixed his semi-hard length through his slacks, ‘you got hard after seeing her tits, for God’s sake. Pull yourself together.’

After checking the coast to make sure it was clear, he all but ran back into his room, hoping to hide his slightly stiffened member from you. As Jimin walked past Ezra’s room, he heard you soothingly reassuring the child that he hadn’t meant to shout at him. Hearing the way you had to quieten Ezra made his heart clench – you barely knew his son, yet you were comforting him after one of Jimin’s many outbursts. Of course Jimin didn’t want to compare you and Irene, the two relationships you shared with Jimin and Ezra were completely different, but she never cared for Ezra the way you do. She never bothered to notice that Ezra had been interested in art; hell, even he hadn’t noticed that.

Thoughts of how loving you are, how much you cared about people, filled his head for the rest of the day. His employees and business partners must’ve thought he had completely lost his mind: Jimin’s face had this faraway look the entire day, only changing when his mind decided to remind him just how delectable you looked this morning.

Jimin had been so out of it, so infatuated by you, he decided that there was no use being at work anymore. He wasn’t getting anything done anyway so that’s how he found himself driving back home early, subconsciously wanting to be back in your presence immediately.

“Y/N?” He called as he walked through the front door, loosening his tie. Not hearing your voice in response made him frown; you were usually waiting in the living room to greet him, with a steaming cup of coffee in hand and a bright, dazzling smile on your lips. He could care less about the coffee if he’s being honest. “Y/N, where are you?”

Silence once again met his ears causing him to frown deeper. Worry suddenly filled his every orifice. Immediately fishing his phone out of his pocket, his fingers almost went on autopilot, dialling your number before pressing the phone to his ear. His heart pounded in his chest when you didn’t pick up by the second ring. Where had you gone?

“Hello?”

“Y/N? Are you okay?! Where are you?” Jimin said loudly, almost yelling. His tone made you confused; you had told him that you were taking Ezra out today. Why was he so frantic?

“I’m fine, Jimin. Ezra and I just picked up some stuff from the store. Why are you asking?”

“I thought…” He couldn’t even finish the rest of his sentence because he didn’t know what he had thought. He cleared his throat, trying to clear your mind. “Never mind. Are you on your way back?”

After you reassured Jimin that you were indeed coming back soon, he let out a sigh of relief and ended the call. He didn’t know why, but not coming home to you felt… Wrong. You had only been here for two weeks, yet he can’t imagine living in this house without you; he sure as hell couldn’t figure out how he lived here with the emotionless statue that was Irene.

Jimin walked past into the kitchen with the intention of getting himself a snack but his eyes drifted to the sink, his mind betraying him by vividly reminding him of the way you looked this morning. God, the way your shirt had stuck to you, tempting him with the subtle curve of your waist, your voluptuous tits… Not to mention the way you had looked at him sternly. Everything about you made his head spin. Everything about you seemingly sent a rush of blood down to his cock.

Biting his lip, his mind veered into uncharted territory by imagining just how good you looked without the dripping wet shirt. He imagined kissing down your body, marking you as his, and his alone, then spreading your legs, suckling on your needy clit…

Before he knew it, Jimin was rock hard in his slacks from the mere thought of you for the second time today. He groaned when he felt his stiffness, irritated with himself because now he knew he had to get himself off, and he hated it. Jimin had only his hand to keep him company for the better part of two years now – himself and Irene hadn’t engaging in sexual activity whilst separated, despite living in the same house, and he couldn’t bring himself to bed anyone else whilst still legally married. Other than that, he found it humiliating to buy a sex toy in person, or even online – his company’s IT people could probably see his search history if they tried hard enough.

Jimin sighed, knowing that his erection was solely his fault. He trudged up the stairs, situating himself in his en-suite bathroom, before turning the shower on. He hated jacking off, but he might as well make the clean-up easy. Stripping out of his work clothes he quickly hopped into the shower, trying to ignore the almost painful stiffness protruding from his body.

Leaning his back and head against the tiled wall behind him, he allowed the water to cascade over him, relishing in the steaming hot water that soothed him. Jimin tried to not touch his boner for as long as he could but five minutes into the shower, he just couldn’t stop himself from gently stroking himself. He grabbed his shower gel, foaming up his hands so that it would be easier to jack himself off.

“Oh, fuck!” He groaned, taking his curved length into his slippery palm, moving back and forth on the sensitive flesh. Continuing the motion, he applied more pressure around his cock, relishing in the feeling of getting himself off. But he so wished it were you.

He wished it were your wet pussy squeezing and clenching around his dick, gripping him like a vice. He wished he could wrap your legs around his waist and pound into you, pulling on your hair and sucking on your neck, leaving deep purple marks so that everyone knew you were his. He wished he could paint the inside of your dripping cunt with his cum, making you hold it in and walk around the office with no panties, seeing evidence of his climax slowly drip down your legs.

“God, Y/N…” Jimin whined, his usually steely voice reduced to a pitched, needy moan. He wanted you so fucking badly, and he was so fucking close. His hand moved with a mind of its own – it doubled its speed, exerting itself to relieve Jimin. Throaty groans left his plump lips, bouncing off of the tiles and echoing throughout the bathroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Somehow squeezing tighter around his pulsating cock, he got more frantic. Jimin began bucking into his fist, ignoring how his wet hair stuck to his forehead. After a few more seconds of fucking into his hand, he let out a growl, his cum squirting up and landing on his toned stomach. “Y/N, I’m coming!”

***

“Why don’t you go up to your room.” You suggested to Ezra, ruffling his hair lightly as you walked into Jimin’s living room. He leaned into your touch, clearly affection-starved, making you frown. You’d have to talk to Jimin about that. You noticed just how cold and strict Jimin was with Ezra; of course it wasn’t your place to say anything about how someone raises their child, but it did become your place when said child has to look for comfort from you.

“Are you going to come paint with me?” Ezra asked timidly, one hand gripping the shopping bag filled with art supplies, while the other gripped your hand tightly, not wanting to let go.

“In a little bit, sweetheart.” You murmured, walking up the staircase that lead to the rooms. “Go set up. I just need to talk to your father about something.”

He nodded, only leaving your hand when you walked past his bedroom. You walked to the end of the hallway, planning on giving Jimin a piece of your mind for being so unloving towards Ezra. Without knocking, you entered the room hoping to find Jimin laying on his bed or something, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Sir?” You said quietly, before berating himself. Hadn’t he told you not to call him that? You cleared your throat, steeling your voice before calling loudly again. “Jimin?”

As you walked further into his room, you heard the shower running, indicating that he was already occupied. You decided to talk to him later, so you turned on your heel and began to walk out the room. Suddenly, you heard Jimin’s voice. “Y/N, I’m coming!”

Huh. Okay. Guess he was cutting his shower short for you.

You sat on the edge of his bed, elbow resting on your crossed legs and chin resting on your open palm. What if you were about to say something hurtful and he decided that he didn’t need you anymore? Maybe this was a bad idea.

In a split second, you decided that this conversation could happen another day, so you started to make your way out of his room. As you were about to lift yourself off of the luxurious bed, the bathroom door opened, letting steam escape the bathroom, and also allowing you to see your boss.

Your jaw dropped open seeing Jimin in nothing but a white towel covering his lower body. Water droplets streaked down his chest, down to his toned abs. Upon seeing them, you felt your mouth go completely dry… Oh god, his body looked like it was carved by the gods themselves. Jimin looked shocked, almost panicked by your presence, which was weird since he had told you he was coming out of his shower.

“I, um… I needed to talk to you.” You said, quickly, standing up hurriedly. “I was about to leave and then you said you’d be coming out the shower. I just assumed you wanted me to wait for you.” Jimin’s cheeks were tinged red, probably from the hot shower, paired with his second-hand embarrassment from you. “I’m sorry. I’ll just speak to you later. I’ll be in Ezra’s room if you need me.”

And with that, you practically ran out of Jimin’s room. You didn’t realise that you didn’t allow him to get a word in. Speed walking to Ezra’s room, you felt your cheeks heat up from extreme embarrassment – how, just how, did you think it was appropriate to check out your boss? Sure, you were living in his house, but it’s totally a different thing.

“Y/N?” Ezra called, confused when you rushed into his room and shut the door behind you quickly. You quickly took a deep breath to calm your radical breathing, then turned to the young child, putting on a dazzling smile.

“Yes, sweetheart?” You replied, seeing a smile forming on his lips due to your own. Your eyes drifted to the painting supplies that he had spread in front of him, all untouched, because he was waiting for you to paint with him.

“Did father give you work? Or can you come paint with me?” He timidly said, eyes full of hope. You felt your smile turn tender; you know that you only spent a few weeks with him, but Ezra had completely captured your heart. But paired with your tenderness, you felt yourself feel a pang of sadness: Ezra never called Jimin anything other than ‘father’. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but it just showed that their relationship wasn’t the best, nor were they the closest. God, how can you think about fixing their relationship when you were drooling over his father five seconds ago? You’re pathetic.

“I came to paint with you.” You reassured, swallowing hard to try and get that delicious image of Jimin out of your mind.

***

After you left, Jimin sat on the edge of his bed, extremely embarrassed that you had heard him jacking off. Sure, you didn’t exactly figure it out, but you had heard him nonetheless. He quickly found himself regretting doing what he did, not because you were his PA, but because you were obviously so innocent; even though he had caught you checking him out, he’s pretty sure that your mind didn’t extend to anything else. Unlike him.

He sighed, knowing that he had to face you momentarily. Park Jimin – a married man – had been thinking of his assistant, who’s selflessly helping him by living in his house, while he masturbated. How fucked up is he? What kind of person –

Stopping his self-derogatory monologue, he realised that he had nothing to be angry or ashamed about: he was no longer a married man, and as far as he knew, you were completely single. What was stopping him from advancing on you? It was almost as if a lightbulb had gone off in his brain. What was stopping him?

With his mind made up, he decided to quickly slip on some clothes, probably needing to make a better impression than just a towel hanging loosely from his hips, then walked down the stairs to where you were making dinner.

“Y/N?” He called, walking with purpose into the kitchen. His eyes fell to you chopping up some onions with Ezra quietly sketching something next to you. He suddenly felt awkward – the whole situation was too… Domestic for him. It was something that he never experienced.

But it was too late for him to change his mind. Swallowing hard, he cleared his throat and directed his gaze to Ezra. “Go to your room. I need to talk to Y/N.”

***

“Y/N?” Jimin called as he walked into the kitchen, seemingly angry. You immediately shrunk, thinking he was about to yell at you for waiting in his room. You felt nervousness fill your being at your pending doom. He turned his attention to Ezra, voice turning even harder. “Go to your room. I need to talk to Y/N.”

That simple command, ‘Go to your room. I need to talk to Y/N’, was enough to bring back all your anger that consumed you earlier. Jimin needed to fix his relationship with Ezra, and he needed to fix it fast.

Ezra wordlessly obeyed Jimin, hopping off the chair from next to you and making his way up to his room. Once he was safely back in his room you turned to Jimin, meeting his cold gaze, you refused to back down. Ezra needed you now.

“Y/N, are you –”

“Why do you speak to him like that, Jimin?” You coldly asked, trying to match his usual tone. “That’s what I needed to talk to you about earlier.” He didn’t reply to you, seemingly shocked in your tone and words. “I know it’s not my place to say anything, but it seems like no one else is willing to confront you about it. Ezra is just a child. It’s fine if you speak to me like that, I’m just your assistant, but he’s your child.”

“You’re more than just –”

“I wasn’t finished.” You said, visibly vibrating from fear, yet you still stood your ground. “You’re so cold towards him, Jimin. And why?”

He stood frozen in place, unsure of what to say. In the many years he has known you, you’ve never seemed so… Angry about something. You were almost a completely different person and it made Jimin feel unsure about himself for the first time in forever. He swallowed hard and broke eye contact with you, deciding to instead stare at the floor.

“I know that things must be hard because Irene isn’t here anymore, but you cannot allow that to effect Ezra.” You said softly, knowing that you had overstepped multiple boundaries. He opened his mouth to reply but found that he had no words to say. He had no excuse for his harshness towards Ezra.

Before you could say anything else – perhaps an apology, perhaps more wakeup calls for him – he quickly walked out of the kitchen, probably going to hide in his bedroom. You sighed, knowing that you were too harsh, yet also knowing that it needed to be said.

***

A few hours later, you still haven’t seen Jimin. He had been holed up in his room, doing God knows what, and didn’t even come out for dinner, which left you and Ezra to enjoy a quiet supper. But now it was late, and Ezra was currently knocked out in his room; apparently the shopping trip and then painting for hours was a little too much for his small body. The fact that he was sleeping was bad news for you – it left you to wallow in your thoughts, it left you to overthink.

Sighing as you turned on the shower, you began stripping and jumped into the shower, enjoying the soothing feeling of hot water caressing your skin. However, your relief was short lived as unwelcome thoughts of Jimin swam through your mind. It wasn’t your place to say anything; all you did was hurt him when he needed someone to help him.

‘I should probably apologise’, you mused as you rinsed soap off of your body, feelings of guilt and shame pooling in the pit of your stomach. Nodding to yourself, you quickly wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel, before going back to your room, planning to quickly change into your pyjamas before going over to apologise to Jimin. Before you could do anything of the sort, you heard someone knock on your door, making you frown.

“Ezra, is everything okay –?” You began, tightening the towel around you before pausing. It wasn’t Ezra, it was Jimin. He looked exhausted, worried even. Before you could say anything, he beat you to it.

“I think I have feelings for you.” He blurted, causing you to look at him confused. You didn’t even get a word in before a look of realisation came over him and he all but bolted back to his room, leaving you with your mouth agape. What. The. Fuck.

“J-Jimin!” You called, now worried for his sanity. You definitely shouldn’t have yelled at him earlier. He didn’t look back at you as he hurriedly closed his door. Exasperatedly, you walked down the hallway, and opened his door.

He was laying on his bed, face buried into a pillow. If you weren’t so worried about him, you might have actually laughed at the situation. “Jimin?” You softly said, making him groan.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Just ignore whatever I said. Go back to your room.”

“Why are you apologising?” You murmured, shutting the door and walking closer to him, ignoring what he said. He sighed into his pillow; face still buried there.

“Please go. I can’t face you right now.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You said gently. “You need to learn how to express your feelings, Jimin. You can’t say something like that then run away.”

“I didn’t run away.” He grumbled, barely lifting his face off of his pillow to eye you out. This was so unlike the usual Jimin that you couldn’t help but feel worried. “Go get dressed, Y/N.”

“Then you’ll just lock your door so that I cannot get in.” You replied, suddenly acutely aware of your lack of clothing, making your cheeks heat with embarrassment. Clearing your throat, you tentatively walked forward, placing a hand on his muscular back. “Jimin? Please talk to me. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine. Go to your room.”

“Stop acting like a child.” You chastised, realizing that this was the only way to get him to talk to you. “You need to get used to talking about your feelings. Yours and Ezra’s relationship needs open communication –”

“Y/N, I swear I’ll talk about my fucking feelings as soon as you get some clothes on.” He all but yelled, suddenly sitting up with his eyes running hungrily over your exposed legs. “I can’t tell you what I need to when my mind is set on tearing that God damn towel off.”

You froze, completely shocked that he could ever say such a thing, let alone to you. Quickly shaking off your astonishment and arousal, you knew this was just a ploy to avoid talking about his feelings. Brushing your hand on his cheek, Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut while his chest rapidly rose and fell. Unbeknownst to you, he wasn’t using this as some tactic to get rid of you: he genuinely couldn’t get his mind off of your luscious thighs, wanting nothing more than to sink his teeth into it and mark you everywhere.

“Please…” He whimpered, leaning into your touch despite wanting – no, needing – you to leave. He didn’t know if you were at all interested in him, but if by some off chance you were, he didn’t want this to be the first time anything like that happened.

“Talk to me.” You whispered, worry and anxiousness blooming in your heart. What happened to the fearless, scary CEO? Where was he?

Within a millisecond you felt his hands grip your towel-clad waist, flipping you underneath him, allowing his toned thighs to trap your own bare legs. Your heart began to pound rapidly, only adding to the growing heat between your thighs.

“What do you want me to talk about?” He murmured as plump lips ghosting over your earlobe, resulting in a silent gasp to leave you. Why were his lips so soft? And why, oh God why, were you so responsive to his barest touch?

Gulping, you tried to move, knowing that Jimin wasn’t in the right state of mind for this. Even so, it was almost as if your body didn’t want to believe that; your arousal from him doing basically nothing was slowly becoming evident.

“Jimin, you’re not all there at the moment, we can talk about this in the morning –”

“No, you wanted to talk, so let’s fucking talk.” He snapped, running his hands over your calves, head buried in the crook of your neck and his lips ghosting over your pulse point. “Now what do you want me to tell you, Y/N, hmm? Want me to tell you that I want to bury my face in-between your legs?”

“Jimin!” You said, shocked at his lewd words. He didn’t even have the decency to look abashed, nor did he even pull away from your neck. Quietly kissing over your sensitive flesh, you began to feel goose bumps rise over your skin. He paid you no mind as his hands continued to roam over your exposed legs.

“Do you want me to tell you that I want to have my lips wrapped around your pretty little clit? Or how about finger fucking you until you’re cumming all over my hands? Hmm? Is that what you want, baby?”

As much as you wanted this, as much as you wanted him, you couldn’t allow him to do this. Not when he has such emotional issues. Tearing his lips away from your neck, you held his face securely between your hands.

“You’re thinking with your dick.” You firmly said, not missing the way his eyes were clouded with lust. He shook his head, trying to move back to ghost lips over your soft skin. “I cannot let you do something you’ll regret. I came here to talk about your feelings. You need to communicate with me.”

“Let me show you what I’m trying to say… You know I can’t… Use words for this.” He mumbled, feeling the foreign feeling of nervousness gnaw at him. “I’m not going to regret it, Y/N.”

Without waiting for a response, he removed your hands from his cheeks and instead cupped your own. “Can I kiss you?”

You were frozen, unable to think. Was this really happening? Did he really mean it?

Before you could answer him, you felt his soft lips gently ghost over your own, allowing you plenty time to move away if you wanted, before urgently pressing his lips onto yours. He tasted like mint, the fresh feeling making you sigh into his mouth. The tip of his tongue ran over your bottom lip, silently asking you to let him in. Tentatively parting your lips, you felt his tongue slowly slip next to your own, the corners of his mouth slightly lifting upwards to create a small grin.

‘Is this what it is supposed to feel like?’ he mused, feeling butterflies erupt in the pit of his stomach. He never had this feeling of Irene; hell, they never kissed unless he was balls deep inside of her, and even then, affectionate kisses were few and far between. Kisses between them used to be a clash of teeth, sloppy, usually out of irritation and just to keep each other quiet because they had a child down the hallway, but this… This was different. This was right.

Pushing his nervousness aside, he took one corner of your towel and slowly pushed it out of the way, giving you plenty time to stop him if you were uncomfortable. You didn’t stop him; you didn’t push him away – and why would you? You wanted him just as much (if not more) as he wanted you. Threading your fingers through his hair, you began kissing him harder, no longer fighting against your need for him. Even though you knew he wasn’t serious about his feelings for you, the sexual tension was too much for you to handle, especially since he looked so delectable hovering over your now naked body.

“Knew you had fucking amazing tits.” He murmured to himself, breaking away from your lips to kiss down your neck and chest. Your towel lay underneath you, no longer a barrier between your bodies. He sucked hard on your chest, marking the flesh just above your nipple with a love bite, eliciting an audible gasp from you.

Your arousal had begun to slowly drip out of you, the sticky fluid making your folds glisten, something that wasn’t missed by Jimin. After trailing down the length of your body, he placed a kiss over your mound, his eyes never leaving your own. With your heart beating profusely, you watched with bated breath as his eyes left yours to settle on your dripping folds.

“You can stop me whenever you want.” He promised, struggling to contain his excitement at finally being able to taste you. Nodding at him, you watched as he spread your thighs, trailing his lips over the sensitive flesh, before abruptly sucking harshly on your inner thigh. He proceeded to do this to your other thigh as well, taking his time to get to where you needed him. After marking both your thighs, he soothingly ran his tongue over the bruised flesh, only adding to your frustration.

“Jimin…” You quietly complained, your pussy throbbing from lack of attention. He looked up at you, laying his chin on your stomach, with a small smile on his features, making your heart stop. He was so gorgeous like this: carefree, happy.

“I have to take my time.” He whispered sadly, his smile still on his face. “I don’t know if you’d want anything to do with me afterwards. You might leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You promised, heart wrenching at how lost he looked. Before any more words could be said, before any more reassuring sentiments could be uttered, Jimin peeled apart your folds, strands of sticky arousal visible connecting your lips. Whilst locking eyes with you, he repeatedly licked up your arousal, spreading your folds further to get him what he wants.

His warm, soft tongue glided against your slickness, drawing soft sighs and moans out of you. Your fingers made their way into his hair, needing to feel him in some type of way as he so gently suckled on your dripping core. The pleasure engulfed your entire being, all curtesy of Jimin’s delicate mouth. Slowly, you felt him prod a finger at your honeyed entrance, resulting in a moan being drawn out of you.

While he slowly worked his finger into your core, he leaned up and kissed you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. As you sucked on his bottom lip, making him chuckle at you, he inserted another finger into you, making you clench around his digits.

“Shit, baby, you’re so tight.” He groaned, feeling you contract on his fingers. “When’s the last time anyone stretched you out?”

“Jimin!” You moaned, feeling him massage that spongey flesh inside of you while his thumb rubbing loose circles over your slightly swollen clit.

“As much as I want to hear your moans, I need you to be quiet, baby.” He murmured onto your lips as he continued his actions. You whimpered into his mouth, unable to contain yourself. “Think you can be quiet for me?”

He didn’t wait for a reply; instead, he removed his hot mouth from your lips and placed it right on your clit, sucking harshly. Throwing your head back from the white-hot pleasure, you bit down your moans, wanting nothing more than to please him and be quiet.

“Pussy taste so fucking good.” He praised whilst smirking, a result of you bucking your hips further into him while biting your lip, silently asking for more. Suddenly, he gripped your hips tightly and pressed the flat of his tongue over your leaking cunt, collecting your arousal on his taste buds before swallowing the nectar down, eventually abandoning the movements to stick his stiffened tongue in your entrance repeatedly. His tongue fucked you mercilessly, relentlessly, all the while rubbing forceful circles on your clit. Pressure continued to mount in your abdomen, only amplifying the extreme pleasure Jimin was inflicting on you.

“J-Jimin… I’m going to…” You whimpered, your hands tangled in his hair as he suddenly added two fingers in you, using his mouth to suck on your clit harshly, almost painfully. He spread his fingers into a V, stretching your tight walls, kick starting your climax.

Your body arched off the bed, pushing your exposed breasts into the cool air. Jimin worked you through your orgasm, his tongue and fingers not relenting as you continuously convulsed around him, your cum sliding down into his tongue. Your cunt throbbed, the pleasure foreign after not being stimulated for so long, yet he didn’t stop. Continuing his actions, he began to lick thick, bold stripes with his tongue, giving no sign of stopping, despite you ceaselessly pulling on his hair out of sheer overstimulation.

“Jimin, Jimin, stop!” You whined, feeling the euphoric feeling evolve into something different. Because of your begs and pleas, his tongue relented; removing it from your pulsating clit to your lips. Tasting your cum on his tongue made you whimper, the mere thought of you tainting him was already turning you on again.

His plump, pink lips never left your own, even when he switched from hovering over you to laying next to you, using his hands to continuously rub and knead your soft thighs.

“You did so well for me, baby.” He praised, pulling you over his lap, making you straddle him. Subconsciously, you began to grind down onto him, feeling his hard cock through his pants. Letting out a strangled moan, he forcefully held your hips to prevent you from rubbing your slightly swollen, still glistening folds over his length. “We don’t have to go further, Y/n. Too much has been left unsaid. I just had to have a taste of you before you…”

“You still haven’t told me if you meant what you said.” You whispered, not at all feeling awkward still being the only one who wasn’t fully clothed. “You need to get better with your emotions.”

“I –” He choked out before looking away with tears in his eyes, causing your heart to clench. “How am I supposed to do this?”

“Don’t cry, Jimin.” You whispered, using the pad of your thumb to gently wipe away the small tear that fell. “Just tell me how you feel. I won’t judge you. You’ve never judged me, right? You stood by me when no one else would. I’ll never forget how much you helped me, despite not even knowing me.”

He slowly turned back to you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and holding you tightly. You felt silent sobs wreck through him, bringing forth tears to your own eyes; but you couldn’t cry, not when he needed someone, anyone, to be there for him. While allowing the sobs to die down and ignoring the sudden wetness on your neck, you stroked his hair soothingly, wondering when’s the last time anyone encouraged him to let out his emotions, encouraged him to cry. You didn’t rush him. You knew this was more than just him and you – it was Ezra, it was his lack of emotion and affection to everyone around him.

“I’m ready to listen whenever you’re willing to talk, okay?” You whispered, softly kissing the top of his head. The action caused him to immediately tighten his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. After a few moments, his croaky voice rang through the room.

“I feel like the worst father in the world.” He admitted through his tears, small sniffles leaving him. “I know I should be doing better, but how? I don’t know my own son, Y/N. You’ve barely moved in and you know more about him than me. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to be affectionate.” He spat out the word, his tears drying on his cheeks.

“You seemed to know how to be affectionate with me…” You said quietly, pointing out how he had become so caring when there was a sexual element. He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair.

“That’s different.” He admitted. “I know what you like, I know how to make you cum, I know the right things to say... That’s just sex. It’s easy for me to do all those things, but anything other than that…”

“Keep going, baby.” You encouraged, using a pet name to show him that you are listening.

“I’m confident enough in my body, but I’m not confident with my words.” He carefully explained, voice cracking slightly. Taking a shaky breath, he finally looked up into your eyes, finding comfort in them despite being scared, terrified even, of opening up like this. “I really like you, Y/N – oh my God, I sound like some teenager –”

Quickly pecking him on his lips, he fell quiet, mesmerized by the softness of your lips, if only for a second. “I like it when you sound like a teenager.” You replied, no teasing tilt to your voice as you looked at him with adoration.

“I can’t love you like anyone else can.” He admitted, still gazing into your eyes, seemingly unable to look away. “I don’t know how to, evidently because I’m already fucking divorced. But I can try. I can learn. You can teach me.” He breathed, saying everything rather quickly. “Please teach me. I can’t let you go. I need you. Ezra needs you.”

“Jimin,” You said carefully, trying not to sound too harsh. “I’m your assistant.”

“I don’t care.” He breathed, heart pounding through his chest. “You can move to another department if you want, but I need you in my life.”

“What if it doesn’t work out?” You whispered, having to think all the consequences through for the both of you. He frowned at the thought of not being able to work out your relationship.

“Then at least we tried.” He whispered back, his forehead leaning on your own. “But please give this a chance. I need you. I need this. Teach me how to love again.”

***

One year later

“Dad, I’m going to be late!” Ezra huffed, trying to move away from the hugs and kisses his father was trying to give him. Jimin elected to ignore him, kissing his forehead one more time, before Ezra ran to you, hiding behind you. “Y/N, please make him stop! Grandma’s waiting for me.”

“Why would I stop him when I want to do the same thing?” You laughed, picking him up and peppering his face with kisses. Jimin chuckled, gathering Ezra’s backpack, various toys and paint supplies, packing them neatly. Jimin’s mother had asked Ezra to accompany her for a short holiday to the countryside, which Ezra basically jumped at.

“Mommy, please!” He whined, making you freeze. He had never called you that, and by the silence echoing throughout the room, Jimin hadn’t expected it either. Before you could break the silence, Ezra gasped and ran over to his Grandmother, who had just walked through the open front door, hugging her tightly in greeting.

“I’m sorry for rushing you, but we really do need to get on the road.” She apologised, all of you standing outside as Jimin placed Ezra’s luggage in the trunk of his mother’s car.

A few minutes later, you and Jimin were waving goodbye to a retreating car. After seeing them safely off, Jimin snatched up your hand, intertwining your fingers and bringing it up to his lips. He still had an irrational fear of showing affection to you and Ezra when people were around, but when you were in your safe haven, he was the most affectionate person you’ve ever met.

“Mommy, huh?” He asked while smirking, using his free hand to bring your hips to his body. You smiled and blushed in response, shrugging as if it was nothing, but inside you were jumping for joy. He planted a kiss on your lips before leading you back inside, his hands squeezing your ass gently. “So, mommy and daddy are having some alone time this weekend…”

“Ezra didn’t call you daddy.” You laughed, walking into the kitchen to get a snack to eat.

“Yeah, but you did.” He replied, biting his lip as you gasped, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as he brought up your hidden kink that you had accidentally let slip a few nights ago. He hadn’t brought it up until now, making you think that he hadn’t heard your whines as he had been too busy fucking you senseless.

“Park Jimin!” You chastised, swallowing hard as your hands barely grasped the ice cream pint you had gotten from the freezer. He raised an eyebrow at you, squaring his shoulders. “I didn’t think you heard me.” You admitted, blushing tomato red.

“Oh, don’t worry, I heard you loud and clear, baby girl.” He promised, pressing his bulge against you as you leaned on the large island in the middle of kitchen. His hands found purchase in your hair, roughly yanking it backwards so that your neck was exposed. He ran his lips all over your neck, biting the flesh, leaving dark red marks.

“Ezra is barely out the door and you’re already this horny?” You snarked, trying to hide your gasps as he sucked rather harshly on your pulse point.

“We haven’t been able to really fuck lately.” He shrugged, lifting you up on the cold granite surface and wrapping your legs around him. “Quickies aren’t as fun as being buried in this pussy for hours and hours on end, baby.”

“We have to go through that presentation – Jimin!”

“Where are your panties, huh?” He teased, his hand slipping under the hem of your skirt to knead your bare ass. “You’re acting like you don’t want my cock, but you aren’t even wearing anything to cover this pretty, little pussy.”

You didn’t reply, knowing that if you did a whimper would slip out of you, only adding to Jimin’s smugness. He ran his fingers along your folds, revelling in the way thick strands of your arousal clung to his fingers, essentially coating them in your arousal. You couldn’t take it anymore, the charade of not wanting him, so you threaded your fingers through his hair, using it to bring him to your mouth.

“Jimin, please…” You breathed, feeling his fingers dance around your clit. As you spoke, he froze, pulling away from your lips with his eyebrow raised.

“What did you just call me?” He asked sternly, his fingers retreating from your wet cunt, only to come down hard on your clit, the slapping sound echoing throughout the kitchen. “You need to be more respectful, you little brat.”

“Daddy…” You corrected, voice still barely above a whisper. “Daddy, please.”

He slapped your pussy again, ensuring that whimpers left your lips. Your arousal coated his fingers, the sticky substance making his skin glint in the light.

“Look at what a mess you’ve made, baby girl.” Jimin murmured, inspecting his shining fingers before looking you right in the eye and slipping one in his mouth. The sight alone was enough to release another gush of arousal out of you, some of your juices now coating your thighs. “Fuck, you taste good.” He groaned, sucking on his finger. He glanced up at you, his eyes showing just how smug he is. “Want to have a taste?”

Without waiting for a reply, he placed his fingers in your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself as you sucked his fingers clean. Maintaining eye contact with him, you swirled your tongue around his digits, licking him clean.

“Like that?” He asked, eyes dark with need. With his finger still in your mouth, you nodded, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “What do you want now, baby?”

“Daddy’s cock.” You instantaneously replied, almost quivering with need. He smirked, allowing you to grind into his bulge, trying to desperately get any source of friction.

“And what do you want to do with Daddy’s cock?”

“Suck it.” You answered, mouth salivating at the mere thought of it. “I want to suck it and taste Daddy’s cum.”

“Then why aren’t you on your knees?”

Wordlessly, you hopped off of the counter, knees harshly hitting the floor, yet you couldn’t care less. Your hands messily unbuckled Jimin’s belt, precariously shoving his jeans and boxers down his muscular thighs before you began to palm him in your hand.

“Don’t fucking tease me.” He groaned, voice deep and laced with seduction. “I still have half a mind of punishing you for being disrespectful, baby.”

Not wanting to get punished – well, at least for now – you slipped him into your mouth, sucking gently on his tip while maintaining eye contact. You gave it a few kitten licks, sucking off his precum, you run the flat of your tongue on the underside of his cock, making him grip your hair. His eyes hardened as he knew you were still teasing him, so he used his grip on your hair to push you all the way down to the hilt, making you take every inch of his cock down your throat.

“Ah, fuck yeah, baby.” He moaned, feeling your throat muscles expand and contract as it tried to swallow all of him. Tears sprung to your eyes, the lack of oxygen evident, but it only made Jimin chuckle. “Who fucking told you to tease me, huh? You wanted my cock in your mouth, baby. Now take. It. All.”

He punctuated every word with a thrust, increasing the tears in your eyes as well as the spit leaking out the side of your mouth. You loved it when Jimin made you take all of him, and it was evident as your arousal had slickened your thighs even more. He eventually took pity on you, pulling you off his dick as you gasped for air, your tears now streaming in rivulets down your face.

Allowing your lungs the chance to get air, you begun using your hands to jack him off, your spittle and his precum acting as lubricant. You stared up at him as his face relaxed with pleasure, head thrown back as your hands continuously pumped his length. Eventually, when your lungs had recovered, you put him back into your mouth, bobbing your head on the parts that you could reach without choking. With your hands fondling his balls, and your hollowed-out cheeks repeatedly sucking on him, he quickly met his end.

Grabbing your hair, he once again pushed you right up against his pubic bone and shot his cum right down your throat. High pitched, melodious moans reached your ears as his orgasm hit him. The salty, tangy taste of his cum coated your taste buds, the taste alone making you clench your thighs.

After the rush of his climax was over, you came off his dick with a ‘pop’, nuzzling your head into his thigh, clearly looking for praise. With his chest still heaving, he looked down at you, affection blooming in his eyes.

“You always suck Daddy’s cock so well, baby.” He murmured, helping you to your feet, bringing your lips to his own. “Such a good girl, hmm? Does my baby want a reward?”

“Swallowing your cum was my reward.” You breathed, still revelling in the feeling of having him fall apart in your mouth. He smirked, enjoying how submissive and God damn fuckable you were. His hand slipped around your throat, squeezing the sides gently, while his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear.

“Run up to our room. By the time I get there, I want you to be naked and laying on the bed for Daddy. Got it?”

Nodding, you felt excitement bloom deep in your chest, knowing that you were truly about to be rewarded. Once he let go of your throat, you all but ran up the stairs, wanting nothing more than to please Jimin. You stripped out of your skirt and stockings before you even made it to the bed, throwing them haphazardly over your shoulder, then you began to unbutton your blouse, peeling off your bra in the process.

Waiting with bated breath, you found yourself squirming with impatience on the cool, silky sheets. Right before you could huff out with irritation, Jimin made his appearance in all his glory. His own shirt was nowhere to be found, and his jeans hung low on his hips, giving you quite a view of his abs and defined v-line.

He paid you no mind, walking over to the closet to rummage around in the drawers. He came back a few moments later with a pair of handcuffs and nipple clamps, as well as something shoved in his back pocket. You quivered at the thought of him tying you up; despite the amount of times it had happened, it still brought an insane amount of adrenaline to your bloodstream.

“Good girl…” He trailed off as he took in your naked body, feeling his cock stir again. The silence in the room faded as he slipped the cuffs around your wrists, then fastened it to the headboard so that your arms were stretched above you, pushing your breasts up into the air. Using this to his advantage, he immediately snapped the clamps onto your nipples, the soft silicone doing little to soften the blow of the pinch.

A hiss left your lips when he tugged on the chain, accentuating the pain that claimed your nipples. He tugged on it again, gauging your reaction, and smirking when you whimpered.

“Does it hurt, baby?” He asked as he kissed your neck, sucking red blotches onto your skin. You nodded in response, causing him to smirk even further. “But you like it, don’t you? Daddy’s baby girl enjoys the pain.”

Before you could respond to him, his lips claimed yours, quickly claiming every breath you had. After a year of being together, Jimin’s lips knew exactly how to move with your own, not to fast nor to slow. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, slowly snaking its way to your own, where it massaged it gently.

In the midst of his lips ravishing your own, his hand slipped into his back pocket, retrieving a clit massager. Without breaking the kiss, he slipped his hand in-between your legs, prying them apart so that he could place the toy right above your clit.

As soon as he turned on the toy, the gentle sucking caused you to moan into his mouth. Continuing to move his tongue in tandem with yours, Jimin slowly began to circle the head of your toy around your clit, getting maddeningly close to the bundle of nerves but never actually touching it.

“Daddy…” You whined, wiggling your hips so that he could place the toy directly on your clit. “Stop teasing!”

“Weren’t you just teasing me when we were in the kitchen?” He cockily asked, once again circling your clit with the toy. “Remember, baby? When you weren’t giving me what I wanted?”

“But you came!” Your argued, voice slowly becoming whinier as your stomach began to clench uncomfortably in anticipation. “I want to cum too, Daddy. Please!”

“You want to come?” Jimin asked, amused at the way your hips were trying to angle themselves to get the stimulation directly on your clit. You nodded, arms straining against the handcuffs. “Why don’t you stop chasing the toy then, huh? Why don’t you be a good girl for Daddy?”

“I am a good girl – ah!”

Your sentence was cut short by Jimin placing the toy right on your clit, turning the toy to its highest setting. A plethora of moans left your lips as the suction steadily grew and grew, simulating someone sucking on your clit.

“Daddy…” You moaned weakly, the pleasure making your brain fuzzy. With the suction directly on your clit, your orgasm loomed over you, driving any other thought out of your head. Needing something to set you off, you began to buck your hips into the toy, moaning and whimpering softly. “Please let me cum, Daddy… Please…”

“You can, baby.” He cooed into your ear, mesmerized with the way your body was lifting off of the bed to claim your orgasm. He quickly tugged on the nipple clamps, knowing that a tiny bit of pain would increase your pleasure tenfold. “Such a good little girl for Daddy, yeah? Always to ready to beg.”

With a yelp, your climax washed over you, turning your bones to nothing and transporting your head to cloud nine. You trembled lightly on the bed, sending a rush of blood back to Jimin’s cock and making him impossibly hard. He watched with bated breath as your chest rose and fell rapidly, the nipple clamps jingling with your actions, a visual indicator of the amount of pleasure your body was facing. Once your orgasm receded, he quickly turned off the toy and replaced it with his mouth, swallowing your cum and treating it almost with reverence.

“Daddy.” You croaked, voice almost gone due to the number of moans and whines that had left your throat just a few moments ago. Even though you had just experienced one of the best orgasms of your life, you wanted more – you wanted him. “Want you.”

“Are you sure you can handle another one, Y/N?” He asked seriously, not wanting to push you further than you could physically go. You nodded excitedly, pulling on the handcuffs to show how ready you were. He chuckled at your eagerness, taking off the clamps off of your nipples. They were puffy and sore, but your breasts welcomed the blood flow.

“Please fuck me.” You whispered, your cunt already clenching at the thought of being filled by Jimin’s cock. He smiled at you, his beauty taking your breath away as he stripped out of his jeans and boxers. His cock was already rock hard as it leaked pre-cum, the substance beading at the tip of his dusky pink head.

“Want my cock, baby?” He asked, positioning himself in-between your legs. You tried to reach out to him, wanting to align his dick at your entrance and watch how he pushed into your core, but the restraints that bound your wrists prevented that. That didn’t stop you from continuously tugging on the cuffs, the metal rattling against the bed post. “Keep acting like a little brat and I’ll leave you here the entire day.”

His threat immediately caused you to cease your actions, wanting nothing more than to feel him in you. Hearing the absence of you pulling on the restraints made him smirk up at you, knowing that you would probably do anything to have him in your cunt right now.

“So obedient.” He mused, leaning back and stroking his length to rile you up. “My baby will do anything for my cock, hmm? Such a dirty fucking slut for my cock.”

“Only for you, Daddy.” You promised, your breathing erratic due to seeing Jimin’s hand enclosed over his dick, lazily fisting the length. “Please fuck me. I need your cock in me.” He raised an eyebrow at you, still wanting to tease you despite being painfully hard. Your pussy clenched when he threw his head back in pleasure, fist pumping up and down his cock. “Jimin, please!”

“Is that how you talk to me?” He snapped, sliding his length into you as his hand tightened around your neck. Without giving you time to adjust to suddenly having his entire cock in you, he began to piston out of you, the sound of skin on skin echoing throughout the room. Your eyes rolled back from the pleasure, the feeling of having his cock force open your walls and the feeling of his hand tightening around your neck making you lose all train of thought. “Answer me, you fucking brat!”

“Daddy!” You corrected; voice hoarse from being choked. His hand left your neck, instead using his hands to hold your hips at an angle so that he could go deeper. “I – I’m sorry, Daddy!”

Hot tears of pleasure ran down your face, the droplets falling to your chest. “You’re crying?” He scoffed, somehow making his hips rut into you faster, your tits moving from each powerful thrust. “Is my cock too much for you to handle?” He asked, thumbing your clit, bringing more tears of pleasure to your face. You shook your head at his question, showing him just how well you could take his dick. “Hmm, good girl. Such a good slut for my cock, huh? Take it all, baby. Take every fucking inch of me in this tight pussy.”

“Going to… Gonna cum.” You whimpered, feeling your pleasure reaching a precipice quickly. He groaned as he felt your walls hug his length even tighter due to your impending orgasm. His thumb continued to work quick, tight circles over your clit, the white-hot pleasure surging through your veins and setting off your climax. “Daddy!”

“Ah, fuck, Y/N!” Jimin moaned, your convulsing cunt bringing about his own orgasm. Your body arched off of the bed once again, your orgasm seemingly too intense for your body to handle. Your thighs trembled and a heat rushed up to your cheeks, sweat gleaming on your body. Jimin’s cock was coated in your cum, the sheer feeling of it causing him to shoot his hot cum deep in you. High pitched curses and moans left his plump lips, ropes of his cum coating your walls as both of you tried to control your heavy breathing.

Without pulling out of you, Jimin reached up and unlocked the handcuffs, throwing them onto the floor to join your long-forgotten clothes. Flipping you over so that you were laying on him, he kissed your raw wrists gently, despite both of your chests still heaving.

“Thank you, baby.” He murmured, kissing your forehead. “I’m sorry if I was too rough.”

“You were amazing, Jimin.” You said softly, enjoying the feeling of having his skin directly on your own. “I wouldn’t want this with anyone other than you.”

“I love you.” He blurted, unable to contain his feelings any longer. You sucked in a breath, not believing your own ears. It was the first time he had ever said something like this. “I know it’s been a journey and a half with me, teaching me how not to be some cold asshole, but God damn, I love you, Y/N. I can’t imagine a life without you; I don’t want to imagine a live without you.”

“I love you too, Jimin.” You replied, a smile creeping on your face as your heart fluttered. “I love you more than you will ever know.”

***

↳ a/n: so that was the first instalment of my colour series! I plan on doing a one shot for each member based on meanings of a specific colour. Please let me know what you think and let me know if you want to be tagged in the future one shots :)

#jimin smut #bts smut #bts x reader #bts #jimin x reader #park jimin #au #bts fan fiction #bts imagines #smut

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Sixteen ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 3021

Warnings: None

A/n Every chapter, you all make me smile so much <3 Thank you!

Haldir leaves and I let out something halfway between an exhale and a groan.

What. Was. That.

My room, which is a very respectable size, felt like a matchbox as the space between Haldir and I minimized. He went from weeks of keeping a consistent physical barrier between us to ghosting his hands over my arms, my hips, my waist…It’s…new.

And when he held me close, his chest so nearly brushing against my back—

I shake my head against the onslaught of scenarios that run through my mind.

I should not be thinking of him this way.

Haldir is a friend, a guide, an instructor, nothing more.

I let out a deep breath and begin to pace, trying to work off this newfound energy. Haldir and I trained for nearly two hours, I should be exhausted. Instead, I feel wide awake, invigorated, jittery, like I couldn’t possibly go to sleep. I groan, taking my hair out of its bun and letting it fall around me. I stop in my tracks, glancing at the spot where Haldir and I stood so close together just moments ago.

I cannot stay here.

I tear through the open door, turning right and taking the staircase that leads to the first floor. I turn left and, before I know it, I’m standing in front of Alex’s closed door.

I knock.

The door creaks open. “Hey,” he greets, opening it wider to allow me in. “What’s up?”

“I uh,” I purse my lips, having not really thought through my plan. I do need a distraction though, and being out of my room is already helping clear the fog from my brain. My eyes catch a pile of books on his nightstand. “I came to help you research, if that’s okay.”

His face lights up. “Yeah! Yeah, of course. I’ve read those three so far,” he gestures to a small stack by the window, “and there’s nothing helpful in them. Everything else in English is fair game. Is there anything specific you want to look into?”

“Fæs.” I’m surprised that the answer comes to me so easily, but as soon I speak the word, I know it’s true — I do want to learn more.

Alex nods slowly. “Yeah, okay, I think I’ve got a couple books on that here. Let me….” He trails off, spinning in a circle as he searches for a specific volume. “Ah.” He squats down and grabs a book near the foot of his bed, reaching it up to me.

An image of Haldir, crouched on the ground, hand warm against my ankle, staring up at me with such intensity, so much confidence—

Alex stands and I look to the ceiling, trying to will away the image and the feelings that come rushing along with it.

“What makes you want to learn about fæs? Isn’t that an elf thing?”

I purse my lips, stalling until the embarrassment fades enough to look Alex in the eye. “Haldir mentioned that humans have their own version of a fæ — a little weaker, a little different, but generally the same concept.” An idea begins to take form, and I roll with it. “I was wondering if—assuming that our fæs remained unchanged between our homeworld and Arda—well, if we could use it somehow, tap into it and reclaim our memories. If anything were to remember, wouldn’t it be our spirits?”

Alex nods slowly, a grin tugging at the edges of his lips. “That’s actually not a bad idea. Great thinking! Let me know if you find anything.”

He settles into the couch, leaving the bed for me. Gratefully, I cozy up against the pillows. I open the book, skimming the introductory chapter, which is basically just a summary of the core concepts Haldir has already explained to me. When I’m on chapter three, the sky passes firmly into night, and even the plethora of candles Alex has lit aren’t enough to keep my eyes from straining.

I pull my knees to my chest and lean forward, glancing over at my friend. His cheeks — which had been gaunt when we first reunited, now take a healthy shape. His shoulders no longer hold vestiges of tension — they lean relaxed, leisurely, against the back of the couch. Even in the limited light, he squints his eyes and continues to read, seeming intent on soaking up as much knowledge as he can.

I rest my chin on my knees. “I need to ask you something.”

He looks up, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. “Okay?”

“Are you alright?”

He sighs, shifting in his seat. “Cosima…”

“No,” I protest. I don’t care if it’s uncomfortable, he needs to talk about things. He’s been bottling it up since he arrived in this world and it hasn’t done anyone any good. “I mean it.”

Alex groans, shaking his head. “Fine, okay. It’s…strange.” He pauses, but I wait, holding out hope that he’ll continue. He does so, slowly. “I’ve…gotten myself to accept that I’m in a different world, but I can’t wrap my mind around the how. That’s stressful. We don’t have a solid plan to return home, nor do we know if we’ll find one. That’s depressing. And, I have flashes and snippets of memories, but otherwise, I feel like I don’t know who I am.”

My heart breaks. Here my friend is, hurting, lost…

And I’ve left him completely alone.

Alex tilts his head to the side, contemplating. “But I do feel better than when we arrived, or even just from a few days ago. Having things to do, feeling useful and like I have agency for the first time…it’s really good for me. And, well,” he dips his head then raises it again, leveling his eyes on me. “It’s helped me realize something else — that I owe you an apology.”

I blink in surprise. I’ve been the one that has pretty much abandoned and ignored him. I should be apologizing.

“On the road, I said some pretty mean things, and I isolated you from your friends and tried to take control. I didn’t mean for it to be like that. I was…” he sighs, shaking his head, “scared out of my mind. I already felt like I couldn’t do anything to fix the problem, and then on top of that I felt like you had completely given up and it was my job to save us both. And I know now that’s not the case, but for a while…” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re just more adaptable than I am, I guess.”

I push myself off the bed, cross the room, and sit next to him on the small couch. Automatically, he throws an arm over my shoulder, the movement so familiar and easy that he must have done it a thousand times before. I lay my head on his shoulder, the bone there pressing against my ear.

I take a deep breath. “If we had really been kidnapped, or injured, or anything more realistic than what actually happened,” he gives a small, tired laugh, the movement shaking his shoulder, “you would’ve been the one to get us out. I know it. Even now, you’re the one putting in all the hard work to get us home. I’m sorry I’ve pretty much left you to handle it alone.”

He squeezes my upper arm gently. “I appreciate it, but I don’t blame you. I get it.” He shrugs again, a measure of sadness creeping into his voice. “It’s not like you remember anyone enough to miss them. If you have people you like here, of course you’d focus on them.”

I feel my lips pull into a guilty frown. “They like you too, you know. You all just need to spend some more time together—”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, pushing a smile onto his face. “It’s okay, honestly — we just don’t click. But I have you, and Baranor and I get along well, and I have this project to work on. It’s enough for me.”

I sigh, resting my head against his chest. I hope that’s true.

{***}

At breakfast, Lavandil and I make plans to meet at her shop. She gives me directions and I hurry up the stairs to my room, changing out of my tunic and leggings and into something a little more fun for my first day of work. I settle on a dark purple gown, one that billows down my arm in puffy gossamer sleeves and has a slight, sparkly train. I’m probably a bit overdressed, but knowing Lavandil’s extravagant wardrobe, I’ll fit in just fine. I bound down the staircase, eager to discover the market and the shop. I turn left, intent on exiting the building.

And crash into the middle of someone’s chest.

Hands grip my upper arms, steadying me as I stumble back. Once I’m righted, I look up, and my mouth falls open.

“Cosima—”

“Haldir—”

Both of us freeze, having spoken at the same time. I purse my lips, waiting for him to go first. He raises an eyebrow, evidently expecting the same of me.

But I can’t make the words happen. His hands on my arms send my mind right back to the tension of last night, to the room that started light and open and turned more intimate than it should as the night went on.

Haldir’s arms fall to his sides. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you turning the corner. Are you alright?”

I nod, my eyes darting from his chest clothed in a cobalt blue tunic up to his eyes. The intensity from last night is gone, now replaced with a noticeable degree of hesitance.

Interesting.

Did he feel something last night, too? Or does he know I did, and now feels awkward around me?

That last thought sends a wave of stress through me. Was I horribly obvious? Have I messed everything up?

“Are you off to Lavandil’s shop,” he inquires, pulling my mind away from these anxiety-inducing thoughts.

“Yes.”

He quirks a smile. “Then I imagine you will be seeing a lot of my brother today. He has a tendency to hang around there.”

“Probably a result of him being in love with the shop-owner,” I quip, voice going high with nerves.

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose that would do it.”

We fall into awkward silence.

Haldir clears his throat. “Well, enjoy your day.”

“You too,” I nod, crossing paths with him to exit the building.

Once outside, I take in a gulping breath.

Did I create all that weirdness? Or is he struggling to figure out how to act around me, too? And why?

Things have never been strained or awkward between myself and Haldir. Once he got over his initial suspicion of me, we got along easily. I feel like he understands me better than the others and, if I had to pick a favorite, as Rumil prompted me not so long ago, it would be, without question, the supposedly-stern Marchwarden leading our company. And, based on the amount of time he spends with me of his own accord, I would say he enjoys my presence, too.

So, that begs the question, what could have happened to turn all that ease on its head and replace it with stilted, awkward, unsure interactions? We were fine until last night—

I suck in a breath.

My brain, apparently useless until I looked the issue straight in the eye, starts piecing together instances of my time with Haldir, forming a terrifying and exhilarating picture.

Sleeping between me and the entrance to our camp so I wouldn’t be frightened. Spending hours alone with me lying on a blanket staring up at the stars. The way he panicked and looked after me when I had my migraine. Big things like that and smaller ones, too — the way he teases me, the way he always makes sure I’m cared for, whether that means sharing from his canteen or sending me with food when I’m likely to miss dinner. The way he’s conscious of my fears—heights, orcs, you name it—and provides support without coddling me, enabling me to handle and face them on my own. The way his arms, so gentle yet so secure, held me close, even for just the smallest of moments.

Could we…have feelings for each other?

Could this rapid and strong attachment to an ellon I met mere weeks ago be something other than friendship?

With a sinking feeling in my gut, the momentary rush of excitement falls into something much more sinister. Something that, in any other world would be a wonderful, thrilling feeling—the one I am developing feelings for maybe, potentially, might see me the same way—is here, horrifying.

Because elves live forever and love only once.

And a human lifespan is dismally short.

Rumil’s face after our conversation yesterday, crestfallen and saddened, comes to my mind.

If my mere friendship with these ellyn will cause them grief when I’m gone, then even entertaining these thoughts about Haldir….

It’s deplorable.

From the heart of the city, the bell chimes. I’m late to meet Lavandil.

I shove down the ache that makes my lips quiver and hurry down the path that will lead me to the market.

The distraction of working with Lavandil will be my lifeline.

I cannot allow my feelings for Haldir progress any further. So, though I’m not sure how effective I’ll be, I swear not to think about him for the rest of the day.

{***}

“What happened last night between you and Haldir?”

Damn.

I made it two hours.

I swallow, trying to seem busy as I hang a tapestry on a display. “What?”

Lavandil comes up beside me, using her height to hang the art properly. “Rumil told Orophin who told me that Haldir came back from training with you and seemed quite flustered.”

My body runs hot. “Did he?”

“Mhm,” she nods decisively. “Apparently he returned to the room in a rush, wouldn’t say a thing, and then spent over three hours at the training grounds, sparring quite harshly with some of the guard.”

Even though the tapestry is hung, I pretend to fuss with it, not brave enough to meet Lavandil’s eyes. “Nothing happened. Maybe he just wanted a better workout — I can’t imagine I was much of a challenge.” I try for a joke, and mercifully, she gives me a pity laugh.

Her demeanor softens. “Cosima, you know there’s nothing wrong with having an attraction, or even feelings.”

“Of course there’s something wrong with it,” I shriek, much louder than I meant to. I look at her with wide eyes, surprised by my outburst.

Thankfully, no one is in the shop, and Lavandil only regards me with calm eyes, no judgement in them.

“I’m sorry,” I hurry to apologize, sitting myself in a chair at a nearby table. On top of it sits a beautiful garnet tablecloth — Lavandil’s work. She sits across from me.

“It’s alright,” she smiles kindly, resting her elbows on the table to mirror me. “I had a similar disposition when I realized I loved Orophin.”

“I don’t love him,” I correct quickly.

She puts her hands up in the sign for surrender, though her bottom lip pulls like she’s trying not to make a face.

“I don’t,” I insist, putting effort into keeping my tone non-angry. I lower my voice, worried, perhaps irrationally, that Haldir himself will go waltzing by and hear my dreadful confession. “It’s, at most, an interest, and probably not even that. Likely more of a curiosity.”

“Well, interests are nothing to be ashamed of.” Her tone matches my low volume and carries in it a gentleness I could never hope to emulate.

“Yes, they do!” My voice drops to nearly a whisper. “Lavandil, he is an elf. You know I’m human. The two don’t mix well.”

She huffs. “There’s nothing to say that. An elleth here, Arwen—”

“Is walking into a tragedy,” I cut her off.

Lavandil’s eyes narrow. “Too many people see it that way, and it is getting quite old. Do you know what I see? Two souls in love. Though their futures are bleak and incompatible, their presents are filled with joy and love and the connection that can only come from two fæs who want each other so badly finally bonded. They would still face pain if they ignored their love for each other — so why not give themselves what joy they can?”

“But she will die—”

Now it’s Lavandil’s turn to interrupt. “Arwen is fully grown. She is wise, and I trust that she knows herself well enough to make the choices she has. Her life is ultimately her own. She can spend it how she pleases.”

I press my lips together, head falling to stare at the deep red tablecloth. Despite Lavandil’s conviction, her words do nothing to allay my fears.

The only thing that awaits an elf bonded with a human is grief and death.

Arwen may have made her choice, but so have I made mine.

“Rumil said elves can take centuries to fall in love. Is that true?”

Lavandil pauses, caught off guard with my change in topic. “I-in some cases, yes. More that it could potentially take that long for an elf to admit they are in love. Often, even if they are not ready to accept it, their fæs know. And even then, that is the timeline in the most rare of cases. You know, for Orophin and I it only took a matter of—”

I raise my eyes to her, pleading. “Lavandil.”

She sighs, staring at me like she wishes I had asked her something else. “Fine, yes. Elves fall slower than humans.”

I take in a deep breath, nodding.

Good.

Because if I have only just noticed these feelings, chances are, if Haldir were to follow suit, he is way behind. The instance Lavandil described from last night, the other hints that show he might be feeling something…I can end them now.

I have time to stop this.

I have time to save him.

A/n So, funny thing, @errruvande got pretty close to guessing Cosima’s reaction to realizing her feelings for Haldir, so shout out to Liza!!! Seriously though, love her, love her blog, I’d definitely recommend checking her account out! Thank you all for reading!

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

#haldir #haldir x ofc #haldir x oc #haldir fanfic #haldir fanfiction

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uomo-accattivante · 4 years

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Fantastic (but long) article about Theater of War’s recent productions, including Oedipus the King and Antigone in Ferguson, featuring Oscar Isaac. The following are excerpts. The full article is viewable via the source link below:

Excerpt:

“Children of Thebes, why are you here?” Oscar Isaac asked. His face filled the monitor on my dining table. (It was my partner’s turn to use the desk.) We were a couple of months into lockdown, just past seven in the evening, and a few straggling cheers for essential workers came in through the window. Isaac was looking smoldery with a quarantine beard, a gold chain, an Airpod, and a black T-shirt. His display name was set to “Oedipus.”

Isaac was one of several famous actors performing Sophocles’ “Oedipus the King” from their homes, in the first virtual performance by Theater of War Productions: a group that got its start in 2008, staging Sophocles’ “Ajax” and “Philoctetes” for U.S. military audiences and, beginning in 2009, on military installations around the world, including in Kuwait, Qatar, and Guantánamo Bay, with a focus on combat trauma. After each dramatic reading, a panel made up of people in active service, veterans, military spouses, and/or psychiatrists would describe how the play resonated with their experiences of war, before opening up the discussion to the audience. Since its founding, Theater of War Productions has addressed different kinds of trauma. It has produced Euripides’ “The Bacchae” in rural communities affected by the opioid crisis, “The Madness of Heracles” in neighborhoods afflicted by gun violence and gang wars, and Aeschylus’ “Prometheus Bound” in prisons. “Antigone in Ferguson,” which focusses on crises between communities and law enforcement, was motivated by an analogy between Oedipus’ son’s unburied body and that of Michael Brown, left on the street for roughly four hours after Brown was killed by police; it was originally performed at Michael Brown’s high school.

Now, with trauma roving the globe more contagiously than ever, Theater of War Productions had traded its site-specific approach for Zoom. The app was configured in a way I hadn’t seen before. There were no buttons to change between gallery and speaker view, which alternated seemingly by themselves. You were in a “meeting,” but one you were powerless to control, proceeding by itself, with the inexorability of fate. There was no way to view the other audience members, and not even the group’s founder and director, Bryan Doerries, knew how numerous they were. Later, Zoom told him that it had been fifteen thousand. This is roughly the seating capacity of the theatre of Dionysus, where “Oedipus the King” is believed to have premièred, around 429 B.C. Those viewers, like us, were in the middle of a pandemic: in their case, the Plague of Athens.

The original audience would have known Oedipus’ story from Greek mythology: how an oracle had predicted that Laius, the king of Thebes, would be killed by his own son, who would then sleep with his mother; how the queen, Jocasta, gave birth to a boy, and Laius pierced and bound the child’s ankles, and ordered a shepherd to leave him on a mountainside. The shepherd took pity on the maimed baby, Oedipus (“swollen foot”), and gave him to a Corinthian servant, who handed him off to the king and queen of Corinth, who raised him as their son. Years later, Oedipus killed Laius at a crossroads, without knowing who he was. Then he saved Thebes from a Sphinx, became the king of Thebes, had four children with Jocasta, and lived happily for many years.

That’s where Sophocles picks up the story. Everyone would have known where things were headed—the truth would come out, and Oedipus would blind himself—but not how they would get there. How Sophocles got there was by drawing on contemporary events, on something that was in everyone’s mind, though it doesn’t appear in the original myth: a plague.

In the opening scene, Thebes is in the grip of a terrible epidemic. Oedipus’ subjects come to the palace, imploring him to save the city, describing the scene of pestilence and panic, the screaming and the corpses in the street. Something about the way Isaac voiced Oedipus’ response—“Children. I am sorry. I know”—made me feel a kind of longing. It was a degree of compassion conspicuous by its absence in the current Administration. I never think of myself as someone who wants or needs “leadership,” yet I found myself thinking, We would be better off with Oedipus. “I would be a weak leader if I did not follow the gods’ orders,” Isaac continued, subverting the masculine norm of never asking for advice. He had already sent for the best information out there, from the Delphic Oracle.

Soon, Oedipus’ brother-in-law, Creon—John Turturro, in a book-lined study—was doing his best to soft-pedal some weird news from Delphi. Apparently, the oracle said that the plague wouldn’t end until the people of Thebes expelled Laius’ killer: a person who was somehow still in the city, even though Laius had died many years earlier on an out-of-town trip. Oedipus called in the blind prophet, Tiresias, played by Jeffrey Wright, whose eyes were invisible behind a circular glare in his eyeglasses.

Reading “Oedipus” in the past, I had always been exasperated by Tiresias, by his cryptic lamentations—“I will never reveal the riddles within me, or the evil in you”—and the way he seemed incapable of transmitting useful information. Spoken by a Black actor in America in 2020, the line made a sickening kind of sense. How do you tell the voice of power that the problem is in him, really baked in there, going back generations? “Feel free to spew all of your vitriol and rage in my direction,” Tiresias said, like someone who knew he was in for a tweetstorm.

Oedipus accused Tiresias of treachery, calling out his disability. He cast suspicion on foreigners, and touted his own “wealth, power, unsurpassed skill.” He decried fake news: “It’s all a scam—you know nothing about interpreting birds.” He elaborated a deep-state scenario: Creon had “hatched a secret plan to expel me from office,” eliciting slanderous prophecies from supposedly disinterested agencies. It was, in short, a coup, designed to subvert the democratic will of the people of Thebes.

Frances McDormand appeared next, in the role of Jocasta. Wearing no visible makeup, speaking from what looked like a cabin somewhere with wood-panelled walls, she resembled the ghost of some frontierswoman. I realized, when I saw her, that I had never tried to picture Jocasta: not her appearance, or her attitude. What was her deal? How had she felt about Laius maiming their baby? How had she felt about being offered as a bride to whomever defeated the Sphinx? What did she think of Oedipus when she met him? Did it never seem weird to her that he was her son’s age, and had horrible scars on his ankles? How did they get along, those two?

When you’re reading the play, you don’t have to answer such questions. You can entertain multiple possibilities without settling on one. But actors have to make decisions and stick to them. One decision that had been made in this case: Oedipus really liked her. “Since I have more respect for you, my dear, than anyone else in the world,” Isaac said, with such warmth in “my dear.” I was reminded of the fact that Euripides wrote a version of “Oedipus”—lost to posterity, like the majority of Greek tragedies—that some scholars suggest foregrounds the loving relationshipbetween Oedipus and Jocasta.

Jocasta’s immediate task was to defuse the potentially murderous argument between her husband and her brother. She took one of the few rhetorical angles available to a woman: why, such grown men ought to be ashamed of themselves, carrying on so when there was a plague going on. And yet, listening to the lines that McDormand chose to emphasize, it was clear that, in the guise of adult rationality and spreading peace, what she was actually doing was silencing and trivializing. “Come inside,” she said, “and we’ll settle this thing in private. And both of you quit making something out of nothing.” It was the voice of denial, and, through the play, you could hear it spread from character to character.

By this point in the performance, I found myself spinning into a kind of cognitive overdrive, toggling between the text and the performance, between the historical context, the current context, and the “universal” themes. No matter how many times you see it pulled off, the magic trick is always a surprise: how a text that is hundreds or thousands of years old turns out to be about the thing that’s happening to you, however modern and unprecedented you thought it was.

Excerpt:

The riddle of the Sphinx plays out in the plot of “Oedipus,” particularly in a scene near the end where the truth finally comes out. Two key figures from Oedipus’ infancy are brought in for questioning: the Theban shepherd, who was supposed to kill baby Oedipus but didn’t; and the Corinthian messenger to whom he handed off the maimed child. The Theban shepherd is walking proof that the Sphinx’s riddle is hard, because that man can’t recognize anyone: not the Corinthian, whom he last saw as a young man, and certainly not Oedipus, a baby with whom he’d had a passing acquaintance decades earlier. “It all took place so long ago,” he grumbles. “Why on earth would you ask me?”

“Because,” the Corinthian (David Strathairn) explained genially on Zoom, “this man whom you are now looking at was once that child.”

This, for me, was the scene with the catharsis in it. At a certain point, the shepherd (Frankie Faison) clearly understood everything, but would not or could not admit it. Oedipus, now determined to learn the truth at all costs, resorted to enhanced interrogation. “Bend back his arms until they snap,” Isaac said icily; in another window, Faison screamed in highly realistic agony. Faison was a personification of psychological resistance: the mechanism a mind develops to protect itself from an unbearable truth. Those invisible guardsmen had to nearly kill him before he would admit who had given him the baby: “It was Laius’s child, or so people said. Your wife could tell you more.”

Tears glinted in Isaac’s eyes as he delivered the next line, which I suddenly understood to be the most devastating in the whole play: “Did . . . she . . . give it to you?” How had I never fully realized, never felt, how painful it would have been for Oedipus to realize that his parents hadn’t loved him?

Excerpt:

If we borrow the terms of Greek drama, 2020 might be viewed as the year of anagnorisis: tragic recognition. On August 9th, the sixth anniversary of the shooting of Michael Brown, I watched the Theater of War Productions put on a Zoom production of “Antigone in Ferguson”: an adaptation of Sophocles’ “Oedipus” narrative sequel, with the chorus represented by a demographically and ideologically diverse gospel choir. Oscar Isaac was back, this time as Creon, Oedipus’ successor as king. He started out as a bullying inquisitor (“I will have your extremities removed one by one until you reveal the criminal’s name”), ordering Antigone (Tracie Thoms) to be buried alive, insulting everyone who criticized him, and accusing Tiresias of corruption. But then Tiresias, with the help of the chorus, persuaded Creon to reconsider. In a sustained gospel number, the Thebans, armed with picks and shovels, led by their king, rushed to free Antigone.

“Antigone” being a tragedy, they got there too late, resulting in multiple deaths, and in Isaac’s once again totally losing his shit. It was almost the same performance he gave in “Oedipus,” and yet, where Oedipus begins the play written into a corner, between walls that keep closing in, Creon seems to have just a little more room to maneuver. His misfortune—like that of Antigone and her brother—feels less irreversible. I first saw “Antigone in Ferguson” live, last year, and, in the discussion afterward, the subject of fate—inevitably—came up. I remember how Doerries gently led the audience to view “Antigone” as an illustration of how easily everything might happen differently, and how people’s minds can change. I remember the energy that spread through the room that night, in talk about prison reform and the urgency of collective change.

###

Again, the full article is accessible via the source link below:

#oscar isaac #theater of war #oedipus the king #antigone in ferguson #creon #frances mcdormand #john turturro #jeffrey wright #david strathairn #frankie faison #bryan doerries #sophocles #zoom #the oedipus project

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doomonfilm · 3 years

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Thoughts : WandaVision [Disney+, Episodes 4-6] (2021)

After a heavily stylized trio of opening episodes, WandaVision has officially put the pedal to the metal with its next trio of episodes. The connections to the larger MCU have been firmly identified and established, which has generated a mountain of new questions, speculations and assumptions about where WandaVision, and in turn, the MCU as a whole are headed in the next few phases.

Editor’s note : This show is jumping in quality from episode to episode, and based on the response to the last blog entry on WandaVision, I am considering giving the final 3 episodes their own entries. If the likes on this blog entry surpass those of the previous WandaVision entry, I will do dedicated breakdowns of the final 3 episodes on the date that they are released.

THE STORY THUS FAR

Episode 04 : We Interrupt This Program In the wake of The Blip, Monica Rambeau (Teyonah Parris) is returned to the hospital where she once sat by the side of her mother’s side. Upon returning to reality, Monica learns that Maria Rambeau has passed away due to cancer while she was gone, which devastates her to no end. Monica returns to S.W.O.R.D. in hopes of finding peace, but she is immediately thrust into the mysteries surround the town of Westview, New Jersey. CIA Agent Jimmy Woo (Randall Park) meets Monica outside of Westview, where he clues her in on his missing witness that was once in the town, as well as the anomaly of amnesia that has taken over those in the surrounding communities. Monica and Jimmy approach the city only to discover it is covered by a mysterious invisible barrier, and while inspecting the barrier, Monica is pulled in. S.H.I.E.L.D. calls in the Army, the FBI and a number of specialists in various fields, including astrophysicist Dr. Darcy Lewis (Kat Dennings), who stumbles upon a mysterious signal that allows those outside the barrier to view the events within in a sitcom format.

Episode 05 : On a Very Special Episode... Wanda and Vision are doing their best to adjust to raising Tommy (Baylen Bielitz) and Billy (Gavin Borders), but find themselves overwhelmed until an overly enthusiastic Agnes steps in to help. While Vision questions Wanda on the recent strangeness, Tommy (Jett Klyne) and Billy (Julian Hilliard) suddenly jump to the age of ten, further confounding Vision. Outside of The Hex (a nickname for the anomaly surrounding Westview coined by Darcy), S.H.I.E.L.D. continues to gather intel and ramp up efforts to collect information in the wake of Monica Rambeau’s return, but after an attempt to communicate to Wanda directly goes awry, Wanda presents herself directly to S.H.I.E.L.D. with a warning to stay away. Vision has an encounter with Norm (Asif Ali) that causes him to reach his breaking point, and while he is confronting Wanda later that night, a knock on the door reveals that Pietro (Evan Peters) has somehow returned... but something is different about him...

Episode 06 : All-New Halloween Spooktacular! It’s Halloween in Westview, and the Maximoff family is preparing for a night of fun and adventure. Tommy is excited for all of the candy he will be collecting, but Billy finds himself concerned with a number of issues, chiefly the surprise emergence of Pietro onto the scene and the troubled waters flowing between Wanda and Vision. Wanda attempts to gather the family for their night out, but Vision states that he has obligations with the Neighbor Watch, which disappoints Wanda. Pietro offers to step in, and his mischievous influence leads to Tommy and Billy’s discovery of their powers. Outside of The Hex, tensions are running deeper between Agent Rambeau and Agent Hayward, and as a result, Hayward expels Rambeau, Jimmy and Darcy from the camp. The trio manages to sneak back in, and while Rambeau and Jimmy head to meet a colleague of Rambeau’s who can assist them in entering The Hex, Darcy breaks into Hayward’s digital files, uncovering a goldmine of shadiness. Vision, using his Neighborhood Watch story as cover, attempts to investigate the outskirts of Westview, but after breaking through the outer wall of The Hex he finds himself being literally torn apart as he is pulled back in, all in front of the eyes of Hayward and his team. Billy picks up on what is happening, and in a fit of desperation, Wanda makes a move to save Vision that drastically alters the entire scenario surrounding The Hex.

ADDITIONAL RESOURCES

Beyond The Trailer YouTube Channel

New Rockstars YouTube Channel

I was unfamiliar with Beyond The Trailer prior to Episode 03 of WandaVision, but the discovery of the channel has provided me with sharp insight, as well as a bit of humor, and Grace Randolph is the only creator to my knowledge that is providing live reactions on episode premier dates.. New Rockstars and Erik Voss continue to mostly knock their analysis of the show out the box. Oddly enough, however, I have found myself pulling back from the YouTube camps of speculation as the series progresses. This is not a shot at any of the YouTubers that are dedicating their time and attention to the show, but rather a testament to the skill with which WandaVision was crafted, and the compelling mystique it has generated on its own.

THOUGHTS ON THE SHOW In all honesty, I have no idea how this overarching story of Wanda, Vision, the town of Westview, Monica Rambeau and S.W.O.R.D. are going to resolve themselves, and I couldn’t love that fact any more than I already do. The amount of detail infused into this show is insane : the way that the aspect ratio continues to shift depending on the “reality” we are viewing is a stroke of simple genius, the use of CMBR waves creating a television signal is a very subtle subtextual reminder of what it was like to take in entertainment prior to the advent of streaming, and the amount of Easter Eggs being dropped would put the Easter Bunny to shame. Just when we think we’ve got things figured out enough to hazard a guess, we are thrown monumental curveballs, and the whole while characters like Darcy, Jimmy Woo and Pietro are asking the same questions we are as viewers.

Wanda Maximoff had been using a very restrained, comical version of her powers up until this group of episodes, but now that her Chaos Magic has revealed itself, many are speculating that she may actually be the antagonist of the series, rather than the protagonist. It is clear that Wanda is controlling the majority of the Westview anomaly with her powers, but certain occurrences such as the birth of Tommy and Billy, their sudden aging or the appearance of the X-Men Quicksilver denotes that someone else is pulling strings that impact Wanda’s reality as well. It is also crystal clear that her anger and emotions are being held at bay by the thinnest of barriers, and with each step closer to her losing control, the real world ramifications get murkier and more dangerous.

What on Earth is going on with Vision? We are given a brief glimpse of the actual “reality” behind Wanda’s created “reality”, and the most jaw-dropping revelation up to that time is the seemingly dead Vision interacting with Wanda in her created world. He is no longer in possession of the Mind Stone, and the infamous damage to his head (courtesy of Thanos) is still very much present. S.W.O.R.D. acting Director Tyler Hayward decided to reveal that S.W.O.R.D. was storing Vision’s corpse at the time that Wanda supposedly broke in and stole it, but even the validity of that is questionable considering how unlikeable Hayward chooses to be. I am also curious if the reason that everyone acts so cagey around Vision is because they see him as a corpse. Vision also seems to have holes in his overall awareness, including no knowledge of the Avengers, which makes you wonder who he truly is on top of what is going on with him.

Monica Rambeau seems to be holding back from exerting control over the situation at hand, especially in light of the fact that she’s the only person who has been on both sides of The Hex and has flatly declared that Wanda is the one in control. There is also an intentional glossing over of key things revolving around Monica that continue to stand out, chiefly among them being her lab readings that appear to have been whited out by a bright light, and the caginess exhibited whenever any references to Captain Marvel are made. She is also clearly a thorn in the side of S.W.O.R.D., and in spite of her connection to S.W.O.R.D. originator Maria Rambeau, it is clear that her presence is not welcome in the camp investigating The Hex.

Dr. Darcy Lewis and Jimmy Woo are quickly becoming not only the fan favorites of the show, but the pairing we never knew that we needed. Darcy’s massive intellect, wealth of knowledge and razor-sharp sarcastic wit pair brilliantly with Woo’s empathic, perceptive abilities and kind-hearted, wholesome nature. With the mystery falling squarely into their laps, they have become the perfect guides through the madness for curious viewers, as many of their questions and concerns mirror those of the audience.

Pietro Maximoff may be the most intriguing appearance of any character in the MCU due to the possible implications that lie with his emergence. Is he actually Quicksilver? The alarms sounded during his appearance, so did he bring himself into The Hex, or was he allowed in by someone? If he is not the Pietro that we are familiar with, and he is playing games in regards to whether or not he is the real deal, then why does Wanda briefly see him just as dead as she sees Vision? Many YouTubers are speculating that the progression of decades used by the sitcom format is intentionally mirroring the decade jumps in the latest series of X-Men films, which is possibly causing some sort of fold in space-time that is combining alternate realities... whatever the explanation is for the emergence of the Evan Peters version of Quicksilver, I’ve never seen anything like this in media, and am wholly invested in seeing where this stroke of genius leads us.

What exactly are Tyler Hayward‘s intentions with Vision, The Hex and Wanda? Why is he being so cagey with information and so ruthless with his control? What is his deal in regards to the clear-cut resentment he has for Monica Rambeau and her connections to those with powers, seemingly specifically Carol Danvers? Is he the true villainous antagonist, or is he just a pawn in a much bigger scheme?

THE QUESTIONS

- If Evan Peters is now Pietro Maximoff outside of the Fox X-Men franchise, is this the indicator that mutants now exist in the MCU? Or is this simply a meta-glitch to setup the rumors of similar occurrences that will happen in the upcoming Spider-man film?

- Why is Dottie still not on the board of identified individuals trapped in The Hex? Even Agnes is on the board, though she does not have a real-life identifier as of yet, which makes her mysterious as well.

- Who are the kids in the commercials, and what is their tie to the mysterious pair that appear in every commercial?

- Is all the talk of S.W.O.R.D.’s astronaut program and specialized aerospace engineers a way to set up the eventual introduction of Reed Richards (and eventually the Fantastic Four) into the MCU? Is this who Monica and Jimmy Woo are heading to meet in Episode 06?

- Is all of the hexagon imagery a way to establish a motif of evolving DNA? Does Vision mentioning the Charles Darwin book Descent of Man push this motif into the realms of mutation by way of genetic evolution?

- As Darcy mentions in Episode 06, Monica Rambeau’s two journeys through The Hex have fundamentally changed her down to the molecular level... are we seeing the emergence of Photon, and on a bigger scale, the mode in which Mutants will be created?

- Why is Marvel so good at cliffhanger endings? The last two episodes, in particular, have made waiting a week for the continuation of the story one of the most difficult things I have ever done. I’m hard-pressed to think of a show since The Sopranos that has kept me this anxious from week to week in anticipation of what will happen next.

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missaureus · 3 years

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EXplOration in Manila Pt. 2

My roommates finally arrived past 1AM. I was super drained but I still managed to put on my bear nail stickers while waiting for them. The moment I opened the door we were already squealing because we haven’t seen each other since my Davao vacation on January that year. We chatted randomly and eventually dozed off. We only had a few hours to be physically prepared for a hectic day ahead.

The concert proper was still at night but we scheduled to go to the mall area at 10AM to distribute freebies under Team Jongin PH. I was wearing heels and my feet were already crying. Obviously, I am not used to it and it was a poor decision. Cafes and restaurants near the arena were banning meet-ups and large groups who were giving stuff to concertgoers because it would obstruct other costumers. What would they expect in a day like this? We respect establishments and would not go out empty-stomached. But I cannot blame them. With that, we ended up being stationed in a wing way distal to the arena.

Many familiar faces were spurting inside the café. I got to introduce to them using twitter usernames. It was hilarious. I even messed up with my other internet friends who I failed to recognize right off the bat! I felt so apologetic. Probably out of exhaustion, my sugar was depleting!

Around 2PM, I had pasta and coffee as my lunch. I cannot indulge my palate that I had to share my small dish to a friend. My fight-or-flight hormone was doing its job generously that afternoon. I could not recall how much yards we had to stroll for unknown reason in and out the mall.

After giving away those packed stuff, we took some pictures in front of the arena in groups. After that, we went back to the condo to freshen up and get ready to line up. With my sequence number, around 400, I was near the end of the line. Surprisingly, almost everyone in my area was from the province, particularly Bisaya. We finally realized how the provincial assistance failed us that year. Probably the worse experience I had due to the hectic announcements for the Manila leg. At that moment, a hint of regret was circling my thoughts. Was it a right decision that I did not bite that one under the table offer? I could have experienced a barricade line. I just ignored that bleak light of what-if.

Inside the arena, around 5PM, I was probably 5 or 6 lines away from the stage. It was way farther than my ElyXiOn stop but still a good and close view. There were still foreigners in our area. There was no sign of the event to start so I finally decided to listen to my feet’s plea --- to sit on the floor. The VIP area was more compressed than the first day. Thus, I had to stand in no time to reserve my spot.

Around 6PM, the show commenced. The intensity of Filipino EXO-Ls’ heated cheer in response to the house rules was much more ear-splitting than yesterday’s. The setlist was not even rolling but one or two from our area were already dragged out, mostly foreigners. I swear, the level of security was not a joke this time!

With the same pattern of Moonlight being played, it was a hint for everyone to mentally prepare. The 1st VCR played on the big led screens. The ghastly intro was beating in a rising intensity until the EXOs finally set foot on stage. By the time Tempo played, not only the lightsticks but also the phones were raised up high to shot fancams. I was so stressed I forgot how the moshpit game should be played. I had to brace myself for over 2 hours! People in the pit were starting to make waves out of pushing and eventually I had to stop my fancam during Transformer because the bouncers were barring my view when they were trying to catch another bull-headed fan pinpointed by Filipino fans.

Due to the endless commotion, I was ushered to the side barricade and had the opportunity to step on the platform for a much elevated view. I was so afraid of stampede I did not dare to move an inch from my position. I anchored myself to the barricade. From there, I had a better view for Gravity which is a personal favorite. A choreography does wonder to a song!

Baekhyun came out with the backup dancers for UN Village after the 2nd VCR was shown. Undeniably, he appeared to be exhausted which was obvious when he let the fans sing most of the song at the end. The fans did not fail to par the energy of the song with its fanchant..

This was followed by the 3rd VCR then the powerful trio: 24/7, which played a huge part in my decision making of which ticket to buy. I was after Jongin’s position for this song. Unlike, ElyXiOn that each member had a fix spot every time they go scatter around, EXplOration was way opposite and random. All te members were so mobile throughout. Next, the general public’s favorite, Love Shot attacked. Followed by Oh La La La.

The deafening shout from the crowd was breathed out when EXO started talking for the 1st ment. They individually introduced themselves with matching hello Philippines and mabuhay greetings. Finally, Monster! This was a stage missed out last ElyXiOn. I was happy to finally witness it live. The members then scattered on the main stage for Oasis. The led screen was an art it was dancing gracefully with them. Breathtaking!

A solo stage by the leader, Junmyeon, followed. Funnily, they were now confident to rip off in an oversea show excluding Japan and China. With that, the crowd was expecting so much from Been Through. The moment Junmyeon exposed his chiseled abdominal muscles, the crowd went crazier that the shouts reached the roof the arena.

Finally, a ballad song! Jongdae entered the center stage and the light bulbs were simultaneously falling like stars. He sang Lights Out too perfectly and I commend the crowd for understating the sole assignment during this stage --- to stay silent to appreciate his vocals. The lights were already reflecting towards my tears pooling in my eyes.

The SeChan duo then took over the stage after the 4th VCR. They entered the scene with their bigass luggage as props. They were playing with What a Life and Closer to You. After that, the rest of the members joined with Falling for You.

A brown couch was dragged to the center stage for Wait stage. This ballad number was so heartwarming when the crowd sang along with the EXOs as if it was a duet. They appeared relaxed. Literally, feeling at home vibe in the living room.

The 2nd ment started. SeChan playfully pointed their microphones to the fan to let then sing some parts of What a Life. As expected from Phixos, we are remarkable to the group as the loudest crowd among all hosts. The rule will always be, we do not do fanchant, we sing the whole song haha! The leader then teased Baekhyun with his sexy choreo in UN Village. Baekhyun did it which made Chayeol crazy for it! Randomly, Jongin danced the sexy choreo of Been Through followed by Junmyeon. Out of nowhere, the crowd cheered loudly for Jongdae’s name suggesting for him to be next in line to do the steps. He was generous enough to do both choreos while singing Lights Out lol I swear they were so chaotic! After that, Sehun did it too! Chanyeol was not getting any free pass and the crowd cheered for his name next. He was crazy that I did not already care for his self-image at that moment. He did his own version of rolling hills and the crowd had gone mad for it! He eventually went near each member to grind at them lmfao! Guess what! Except for Baekhyun!!! Jongin had a secondhand embarrassment for this guy and even threatened to punch him. To end the chaos, the leader finally introduced Power as the next song. It was so fun there were also fireworks-like effects during the break dance part which was serve by the leader, supposedly it was Kai’s part but the members cheered for Junmyeon to do it this time.

At this point, I was a battery at 2% already. I almost forgot what was next in line. A Kai solo! Jongin entered the main stage with the back up dancers, he was wearing a vest with nothing underneath it and a cap! To be honest, I loved his get-up on the first day more but the experience of him much closer to me is the best! I did the fanchant, I tried religiously but his performance was jaw-dropping that I kept on losing my focus, I went silent while covering my mouth! Surprisingly, he opened the only clothing coving his upper torso that finally exposed his amazing physique! By that time, I already got unleashed, I am still sorry for that crispy FUCK on my fancam hahhahahaha!

Bad dream and Damage were performed on the main sage. I actually was not able to give my full attention to it because my phone notified I was out of storage. Out of impulsivity, I deleted all of my applications thinking that it would save me until encore stage. After that, EXO danced to the legendary title tacks in a form of a medley, Growl, Overdose and Call Me Baby.

The 6th VCR was a hint that it was about to end and I went emotional. The boys playfully performed Unfair and On the Snow. The latter song is nostalgic. It is vivid how Jongin was enjoying this stage, wearing a black shirt and pants with his cap placed backwards. SeChan were so cute during You give me yours, I'll give you mine part when Chanyeol gave the maknae a bouquet of flowers. The fans started throwing lots of stuff on stage, the floor got crowded.

During the last ment, I befriended the person in front of me who is a Chanyeol-biased. We shouted in chorus Jongin’s name while raising a gom banner but unfortunately he did not respond. We just kept on laughing! We tried it to Chanyeol while waving a banner of him and he waved backed to our area enthusiastically using the doll he picked on the floor. While the others were busily doing their individual messages, ChanKaiHo were so bust playing with the coiled spring, I swear they were kids!

During Jongdae’s part, the audience started chanting Walang uuwi! We also did this last ElyXiOn and finally this time it was already translated back to the boys! They kept on saying that they enjoyed the night so much with the fans and shamelessly said it was way better that yesterday hahaha! I had to agree. They said that they would love to come back to the Philippines for a concert and a vacation. During Sehun’s part, he secretly asked the translator how to say “Walang uuwi!” and Sehun said it back to the crowd cutely. Finally, after a year!!!

The leader finally introduced the encore song, Smile on my Face. The confetti were starting to rain and feel our faces. The harmonization was heavenly that I almost cried. To be honest, I was sad but happy at the same time. The boys then arranged themselves on the moving platform. Until the last time, Sehun kept on saying Walang Uuwi!. They faded before my eyes, it was surreal! Thank God for letting me see them twice in a row!

I looked for my friends in the pit and cried in unison! We took pictures outside the arena with some of our friends and decided to look for a place to eat. It was actually raining cats and dogs as if heavens knew how heavy my heart was that it was finally over.

We went back to the condo with my packed order hahahaha I do not know what was into me that I did not touch my food. I just quenched my thirst bottoms up with a soda full of ice! I was so silent after that hahahaha.

We slept around 2AM after consuming our fancams. The next day, we had breakfast in Naynay’s condo. Hnnng I miss her food! After that, we parted ways with my condomates and met some of my friends also before heading to the airport.

It was raining. The weather turned my departure more melancholic that it should be. But when I reached the arrival area, I was so touched my whole family came to fetch me. Thank you for supporting me and my happiness. Thank you for allowing me to have this memory when I grow old.

This is my youth.

#EXO #exoconcert #explorationinmanila #explorationinmaniladay2 #kai #chanyeol #sehun #suho #chen #baekhyun #jongin #personal

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thebibliomancer · 3 years

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Essential Avengers: Avengers #232: And Now... Starfox!

June, 1983

“From Titan with love... Starfox!”

oh god no

Err. Anyway.

Last time on Avengers Z, the Avengers were bad enough dudes and lady dudes to rescue the president from wooden dopplegangers. The sinister and badly dressed Plantman (not to be confused with a Mega Man boss) summoned a giant-sized man-shaped swamp thing to battle the Avengers. They were doing a decent job fighting it when Starfox crashed his spaceship into it in his rush to join the Avengers.

And now, what happens after that.

Hawkeye is a terrible patient.

So also last time, a ceiling fell on Hawkeye’s leg and it be broke. He’s apparently the kind of dude who thinks its more manly to refuse anesthetic so She-Hulk has to literally pin him down long enough for Ordinary Doctor Donald Blake to cast it up.

And wow, that cast goes all the way up!

Where did you break your leg, Clint? At the sternum?

Actually this reminds me of Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes because Hawkeye got his arm snaked and in-this-version-a-paramedic Jane Foster was asked to look at it but Hawkeye was similarly uncooperative there.

I wonder if that was an intentional reference or whether an accurate portrayal of Clint’s sparking personality just gets you there naturally.

But with the casting call done, Dr. Donald Blake makes to leave, making a point to mention how lucky that he was in town instead of in Chicago where he supposedly lives.

THUS Thor’s secret identity is secure forever.

Wasp and Captain America take Ordinary Doctor Donald Blake to the elevator to show him out but really, he just transforms back to Thor in the elevator.

Because Cap and Wasp already know his secret identity. As does Dra- oh wait, he’s dead. As does Iron Man.

In fact, after Cap mentions he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to seeing Dr. Donald Blake transform, Thor mentions very few mortals have ever seen the change.

Thor: “E’en Iron Man -- with whom I did share the secret of my dual life -- seldom watched me assume my godlike form. I believe it disturbed him.’

Wasp: “Uh-huh.”

Uh-huh is right. That’s a weird, random character beat! I wonder why it bothered Tony. Is it the god part? Transformation in general? Would it bother him to watch Bruce Banner turn into the Hulk? Or Captain Marvel/old broke version and Rick Jones chaaaaange places?

I’m intrigued. And yet there’s no further information. Hmm.

Anyway, the three founding or retroactively made a founding Avengers pass through two sets of ultra-security doors because obviously the thing in your base you most want to protect is your conference table.

Its got the cool, personalized chairs. Don’t judge.

As always, I wonder what symbols the other Avengers get.

Wasp delayed the resumption of the Avengers meeting (because it got interrupted by presidential ransom situation last issue) by a half hour because she wanted to run some things past Thor and Cap.

Wasp: “After all, we are the only core members on active duty and... well... I wanted to ask you both first... should I step down as Avengers chairwoman?”

Thor asks if she feels unduly burdened by the job but she says no, in fact it makes her feel so aliiiiiiiiiiive.

Cap: “Then stick with it, Jan! You’ve been doing a fine job! What on Earth made you even think of stepping down? Surely you don’t blame yourself for Iron Man leaving -- ?”

Surely in fact, she does do.

That weird call they got from an Iron Man quitting the team has shaken her. She probably thinks its because of Wasp dumping him. And in fairness, Tony ghosting the team happened not very long after that. But its not actually related.

Also apparently, Captain Marvel (the new cool one) was made a full active member and not an in-training to fill the vacancy Iron Man left. But now Hawkeye has gotten injured and there are no reserve members available.

Hercules is off doing him knows what. Beast is with the Defenders. Wonder Man is on the West Coast, presumably trying to make it in Hollywood. Vision and Scarlet Witch are trying to be civilians.

Wasp: “We used to have too many members around. Now we may not have enough!”

Yeah, ever since the roster shake-up that was soon followed by Hank’s No Good Very Bad Day, the Avengers have had a bit of a difficulty in keeping the team at good numbers.

Dammit, Hank!

Thor suggests, hey, we have Eros of Titan hanging around asking to be made a member. Why not... let him?

Thor: “Perhaps we should induct the brash Eros! He is swift -- and nearly as strong as an Asgardian!”

Cap: “Yes, but is he Avengers material? Does he have the proper training?”

Wasp: “Training! That’s it! We could try him out as an Avenger-in-training! It worked for Captain Marvel! She was almost totally unused to super-powers when she came to us, but she developed into a peach of an Avenger! With a little on-the-job training, I’ll bet Eros would fit in, too!”

So she calls the White House and asks if the president is back from his kidnapping yet. She has networking strings to pull.

And this honestly brightens her right up. Being group leader really does make her feel so aliiiiiiiiiiive. That and being able to call in favors from the government.

Twenty-six minutes of calling in favors later, Wasp reconvenes the meeting, this time with special guest Eros.

She asks why he wants to be an Avenger.

Eros: “Why not?”

This gives Hawkeye an anger and he bangs the table and also accidentally bangs his broken leg.

Eros decides to expand on his answer and says that he’s a lover of adventure and what better way to seek it than as an Avenger? He’s already aided them in the past so they already know of him.

Thor: “Aye! Against the threat of your mad brother, Thanos!”

Eros: “Too true. But I believe your brother Loki has also given the Avengers trouble hasn’t he?”

Wasp has to interrupt and tell the two to keep family matters out of the conversation. She makes a better moderator than some.

Eros: “You are quite right, Wasp! I hold no one -- god or man -- responsible for the actions of relatives! I seek but your fellowship! Indeed, I can think of no assemblage so appealing... so charming... anywhere in the cosmos!”

Wasp, Captain Marvel, and She-Hulk seem to approve of this answer.

... WAIT ARE YOU USING YOUR CHARM POWERS ON THEM? EROOOOOOOOOOOOOS!!!

Anyway, since Hawkeye is out of action-

Hawkeye: “What do you mean, ‘out of action’? Who says I am?”

Cap(tain America) says he is and tells him he can’t be expected to charge into action with his leg in a cast. Which Hawkeye sadly agrees.

Anyway, since Hawkeye is out of action, Wasp decides that the Avengers can accomodate Eros as an Avenger-in-training. But the government did have one condition for letting his alien man become an Avenger.

He needs a codename.

Wasp: “Frankly, the president was hesitant to approve of anyone named Eros. He would rather you were called something less provocative in public.”

Hey, fuck you, Reagan.

But Wasp has an idea.

Wasp: “You’re a pretty foxy guy... and you’ve been out among the stars... how about ‘Starfox!’”

Good god, Wasp. Did you really just name this man Spacehunk? You’ve gone mad with power.

Also, I jumped the gun last post. I didn’t realize that Wasp comes up with his codename here so I was using Starfox to refer to him already.

Also also, he has a fox emblem on his shirt. Why does he do that if he wasn’t Starfox yet? What does the fox represent in Titanian culture??

Eros: “Starfox? I don’t know... Is this necessary?”

Captain America: “Well, it could make things easier, and you’d still be Eros to your friends. After all, my real name isn’t Captain America!”

Eros: “It isn’t?”

Hah.

I adore that last exchange.

Imagine the incredulity in the tone. ‘I thought that Earth names were Just Like That.’

Anyway, Eros accepts the name Spacehunk Starfox and the position of in-training so Wasp decides to get him started right away.

Remember that thing with the president and the wood men? Happened like an hour ago?

Well, there’s a Navy task force tracking the submarine which was spotted escaping from the scene and they’ve requested Avengers help. But, eh, why send the whole team?

So Wasp sends Thor, Captain Marvel, and Starfox-in-training.

And in fairness! That’s a trio that can handle a whole heck of a lot with their respective powers!

So off they go.

Starfox: “Duty and glory, Thor! Songs shall be written about this day -- even if I must write them myself!”

You know. That’s actually a very good attitude to have. Eros will be the fanfiction he wants to see in the world.

With that issue handled, Cap(tain America) and Wasp head off to take care of some other business.

Leaving She-Hulk and Hawkeye with only each other as company.

Hah.

On their way to the mission, Captain Marvel zooms all around, practicing her cornering in flight. As a new superhero... like its been under a month, I think? Captain Marvel still thinks flying is the neatest thing.

And she’s right!

But she’s also discovered a new ability. Since her energy form is made of energy and she has control over energy. Instead of flying around as a vaguely her shaped glowing blur, she can concentrate to create a light image of herself, why not!

She has made herself harder to draw but easier to portray!

Thor: “Your radiance rivals that of the golden apples of immortality!”

Captain Marvel: “I’ll have to take your word for that!”

Hah.

She zooms over to where Starfox is flying. Captain Marvel has been eyeing him throughout the book, which Wasp has been assuming was because he’s a space hunk.

But maybe she just wanted to learn more about Captain Mar-Vell because that’s what she asks Starfox about.

Starfox: “He was a gentle warrior... a noble soul. He was a true hero... Worthy of rank and name!”

I guess the description or the sadness Starfox still has at Mar-Vell’s death makes Monica feel like shit, like maybe she isn’t worthy, so she zooms ahead to let the navy know the Avengers are on their way.

Starfox: “Have I offended her?”

Thor: “Eros, I begin to wonder if your reputation with the ladies is truly deserved.”

Hah.

But also: If you have magical fuck-me powers you don’t need to actually be charming, I guess? Dammit, Starfox!

Captain Marvel arrives on the deck of the navy task force flagship as a bolt of lighting (SHAZAM!), alarming the navy in two ways.

First, lightning. Its just so loud! But second, wait the Avengers only sent one person?

Captain Marvel goes nah I got Thor and Spacehunk but they’re slowpokes. Not moving the speed of light. Imagine.

Admiring Admiral: I don’t know who the redhead is, but I’d sail into Hades itself with Thor in my crew!

Its fun the insight we get into how respected and beloved Thor is. I don’t think that’s the case anymore with modern Thor. The marvel citenzry has just become jaded to the cool hammer man.

The admiral explains the situation. That they’re chasing the submarine seen in the area of the presidential ransom attempt. But its hiding in an undersea canyon that navy frogmen kero kero can’t reach and that its somehow been deflecting depth charges.

The admiral was going to wait for navy subs to arrive but hey, if the Avengers want to try, this is their book.

Meanwhile, in aforementioned sinister submarine, the horticultural horror... Plantman! Nah, just kidding. He’s a goofus and I will point and laugh.

His cool sub lets him pre-explode the depth charges before they reach his sub but even he doesn’t want to tangle with trident-class submarines so he wants to skedaddle. And if the navy is blocking his way, the navy gotta pay.

He activates his PLANT RAY which is a real thing, look it up, and energizes the kelp in the undersea canyon.

The kelp reaches up like a kraken, a kelpken, and starts trying to pull the navy ships under.

Thor: “‘Tis an attack by yet another form of plant! Our unknown foe has struck again! Stand you back... the son of Odin shall end this threat!”

And then Thor jumps into the ocean, leading a confused Starfox to ask whether Thor needs to breath.

Captain Marvel helpfully informs him and the audience that Thor can hold his breath for hours.

Thanks, Monica!

And then some kelp yanks Starfox and then Captain Marvel off the ship.

Meanwhile, a very expensive Manhattan apartment occupied by a grumpy Tony Stark.

Tony Stark: “Why waste good money getting a T.V. remote control fixed, when I can do it myself faster an’ better? Hah! When I’m done with it, it’ll do more’n change channels... it’ll walk the blasted dog!”

... Tony, how though?

And do you have a dog?

What is going on in your mind?

His remote repair reverie is interrupted by a binging and a bonging on his chamber door. Only this and nothing more.

He grouses about the interruption but HEY ITS HIS FAVORITE PEOPLE! Its Wasp and Captain America!

They’ve been stalking him, a little.

The pressing matters they had to attend to was running down a list of homes owned by Tony and searching them one by one to find him.

He’s happy to see them though and offers them some morning whiskey. Or bourbon. Or perhaps chocolate soda.

Look, I googled eyeopener and its booze you drink in the morning to wake up although I’m pretty sure its afternoon now and if you need to drink booze to wake up, you might want to consider limiting your intake actually. Especially for Tony Stark who had an entire story arc about alcoholism. Dammit Tony!

Wasp: “Eye-opener?! Tony Stark, where’s your mind? We’ve been worried sick about you! No one’s been able to find you for days on end -- you haven’t answered Avengers emergency calls -- and when you did call this morning it was to resign!”

Tony Stark: “Now jus’ hold yer horses! Maybe I have been outta touch... but I’ve had my own ‘mergencies to handle! An’ I didn’t call you this morning! I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

Iron Man: “He’s right! I’m the one who made that call!”

Imagine being someone who reads Avengers and not Iron Man. How blown would your mind be seeing Iron Man fly into a room Tony Stark is already in?

Somewhat, right? Somewhat.

Imagine being Captain America and Wasp and seeing Iron Man fly into a room where Tony Stark is when you know for sure that Iron Man and Tony Stark are the same guy.

Cap demands to know whats going on and who is in Tony’s armor.

Tony Stark: “Jus’ who he appears to be... Iron Man, my faithful armored companion and bodyguard... jus’ like it says in the Stark International press releases! Ya see, boys an’ girls, ol’ Uncle Tony has decided to quit the hero biz while he’s still ahead of the game! No more playin’ Iron Man for me! Nosirrebob! Time to let a younger man wear the boilerplate!”

Oh.... Tony.... if this only weren’t the perpetual superhero narrative, you might be able to bow out gracefully.

And its not like this is gracefully anyway. As indicated by the charmingly tousled look, the slurred speech and the morning drinking in the afternoon, Tony is quite drunk.

Wasp asks New Iron Man to confirm and he does. He clarifies that the reason he quit the Avengers is because he doesn’t feel experienced enough yet to hold his own on the team.

And apologizes for the confusion. The Iron Man helmet has voice modifying circuits so New Iron Man (secretly James Rhodes) sounded just like Old Iron Man (aka Tony Stark). He didn’t realize that the Avengers knew Tony’s secret so didn’t realize he’d just be creating an intriguing mystery prompting readers to check out the Iron Man book slash confuse the Avengers.

Tony Stark: “Yeah... I forgot to tell ya that Cap an’ the Wasp were in on the ol’ secret. Thor, too! Oh, well... no harm done!”

Then he drinks some more booze alcohol. Cap asks him doesn’t he think he’s had enough? And Tony is like hey no I don’t and don’t butt into my life kthx.

Wasp: “We don’t want to pry, Tony! We just don’t want to see you throw your life away... like Hank did.”

Tony Stark: “I am not Hank Pym, lady! I’m nothin’ like your ex-hubby! I don’t need your help -- an’ you don’t need mine! The Stark Foundation will pay the Avengers’ bills with or without me! So, if you’ll kindly get out of my life -- !”

Oof. Why does everyone Wasp dates turn out to be a jerk?

I assume she was just leaning into it the time she dated Havok. But otherwise, oof.

They really have no choice but to leave Tony to make his own bad decisions. At least he was responsible enough to get someone else in the Iron Man armor?

Geez though. Geez.

Hate seeing you like this, Tones.

Meanwhile, back in the Atlantic Ocean... Captain Marvel fairly casually assesses the situation of being dragged into the water.

Captain Marvel: “Never saw any kelp like this before! It grips tighter than an octopus, and it feels as tough as steel! I could just turn to some form of energy and slip out of it, but then it could grab some poor sailor!”

So instead she explodes, which she can do, shredding the kelp holding her.

Then off she goes to find how Starfox is faring.

He’s faring okay. Just casually punching some kelp like it ain’t no thing.

But since teamwork does make the dream work, she blasts the kelp for him. Starfox thanks her though also says that he could’ve kelped himself.

They discuss how they can hear each other perfectly well underwater thanks to SCIENCE! The science of water conducting sound. I find it a bit dubious but whatever. Not as dubious as the next bit.

Captain Marvel asks how Starfox is breathing underwater.

Starfox: “A thin shell of air clung to me as I was pulled under... due to the gravitic potential of my body, I suppose! It all relates to my flying abilities. I was surprised myself! This is the first time I’ve ever taken an ocean plunge!”

Fun way to discover that, huh!

Also, heck, how long does a thin shell of air last underwater? How shallowly do you breathe, man!?

-google- Huh, Wikipedia has this description of his powers using almost the exact words (although not the word order) from this scene. I feel that it does not come up much so this is the primary source.

It also says that he doesn’t need to breathe as much as a normal hooman. So that’s answered.

The two newest Avengers find Thor already has things well in hand freeing the propeller without need for any further kelp.

So all three Avengers surface (and Thor retrieves his helmet, which in a nice bit fell off when he dove into the water and just floated on the surface).

Thanks to ex-boat cop Monica Rambeau knowing navy semaphore, she recognizes the signal from the navy vessel that the enemy sub is making a run for it.

And since none of these three Avengers have trouble fighting underwater, Starfox suggests they give chase.

Plantman: “NO! Not the Avengers! Not again!”

Yes, again. Yes, always.

He shoots some anti-personnel torpedoes, hoping they’re enough to stop the Avengers.

“They’re not.”

Hah. I love when captions get sassy.

The Avengers soon are busting into the sub, breaking through bulkheads and coming for Plantman.

Plantman realizes that they’ll have him trapped in the control cabin in seconds. So he pulls the last resort lever that his silent partner told him to pull as a last resort.

Some manner of escape sphere forms around Plantman, launching him high into the stratosphere and capsizing the sub right on top of the Avengers.

I mean, they’re beefy. I’m sure they’ll be fine.

But no time to verify that, SCENE CHANGE.

Over on Central Park West, She-Hulk has carried Hawkeye all the way from Avengers’ Mansion to his apartment. On foot.

Dang! Mighty nice of her! Even Hawkeye points out that he could have gotten a cab.

(But do we believe that Hawkeye has money for a cab?)

After gently dumping Hawkeye on his couch, She-Hulk asks if he wants to have her stick around. She literally has nothing better to do today.

Hawkeye: “Will you get out of here and leave me alone!!”

She-Hulk huffs off in anger because this is a rude way to thank someone who helps you home.

Hawkeye even realizes that he shouldn’t have yelled “but I can’t stand to have anyone mother-hen me! Besides, I have things to do... important things!”

Yeah, Hawkeye does seem like the kind of guy who hates getting any help at all because men are self-reliant and junk. Toxic masculinityyyyyyy!

And the important things? I dunno! He calls his head of security workplace Cross Technological Enterprises and tells them to send a car for him.

That’s probably going to be a thing in another issue. God forbid it be a thing in another book. I’m not made of time. I’m still dreading West Coast Avengers where Hawkeye goes off and makes his own team. The jerk.

Okay, back to the plot.

Thor, Captain Marvel, and Starfox of course shake off a submarine imploding on their heads without much effort. Starfox is the most shaken by it. Guess the new guy isn’t used to submarine implosions lol.

Meanwhile, Plantman’s escape pod keeps escaping up, up, and away but mostly just up.

Then a prerecorded message from Plantman’s ‘silent partner’ and/or ‘mysterious benefactor’ plays.

Wizard: “Plant-Man! This is a recording. If you have been so stupid as to get yourself in a predicament where you needed to use the emergency handle, you are now hearing this message.”

“While I appreciated your aid in escaping prison, the equipment I gave you should be considered payment in full. I owe you nothing more than an explanation.”

“Thanks to my anti-gravity generators -- which you activated along with this module -- you will soon find yourself safely in orbit!”

Plantman: “In orbit!”

Wizard: “There, you will be of no further embarrassment to me or our ‘partnership’ as you so distastefully called it. You will be beyond harm... for as long as your oxygen holds out. Farewell!”

Oof. Ice cold.

Ice cold, the Wizard.

Captain Marvel phases through the pod floor to basically say the same thing.

Plantman begs her to save him from his own dumb decision making. She’s like huh look, I don’t really know about anti-gravity but I do have an idea.

Then she blows a hole in the side of the pod.

And the pressure difference blasts Plantman out of the pod, right through Captain Marvel who has turned into intangible energy.

Captain Marvel: “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

HAH!

That was mean, Monica. I love it.

But as Plantman hurtles screaming toward the ground, Thor catches him and tells him to stop screaming beside.

Thor: “Cease your cowardly whining! The Avengers do not wantonly kill their foes... not even such as you!”

These days though... well... probably still not wantonly? Depending on how you define it? Maybe during War of Realms though. The kid gloves came off then.

Starfox is loving this by the way. The whole thing that just happened.

Starfox: “What grand sport! Yes, I think I’m going to enjoy being an Avenger!”

‘Ha ha we made that guy think he was going to die!’

Also, Plantman’s outfit looked green and purple in the sub. I guess it was the lighting because its just jolly green now. But its still a terrible outfit.

Meanwhile, back at Avengers’ mansion, Wasp is back from Tony Stark locating duty! She-Hulk is back from being angry at Hawkeye duty!

She-Hulk mentions that she took Hawkeye to his apartment and for a loudmouth, he has a really nice apartment.

She-Hulk: “I wish I could find a nice apartment, but I’m still getting lost in this town. I don’t know where to begin looking.”

Wasp: “Well, if you’re so set on getting a place of your own, why don’t I give you a hand?”

Wasp is going to fulfill her delayed promise to take She-Hulk apartment hunting! And hey, why not focus her efforts on a friend that will let her help?

So Wasp changes into street clothes (or since we see her shrink later, its more that she changed her Wasp outfit and put clothes over it, which is almost like getting dressed in street clothes) and takes Jen out on the town.

Apparently, the Daily Bugle has the largest section on rentals and real estate of any New York paper. I guess they need something aside from diatribes about Spider-Man to attract subscribers.

Ben Urich’s award winning investigative journalism can’t pay all the bills.

Because this is the same New York which frustrated Tigra, some idiot immediately starts hitting on She-Hulk at the newsstand.

Some idiot: “‘Ey, beeg mama! I love that green body paint! You need any help removing it? Huh?”

She-Hulk: “Stuff it, creep! Or better yet -- stuff you!”

And she puts the garbage man in the garbage can. Where he belongs. While Wasp literally looks the other way.

She-Hulk: “Sorry, Jan, I just don’t care for men with fresh mouths. This sort of thing would never happen in California.”

Wasp: “Oh, fer shure...”

That sounds like the polite way of saying ‘Doubt.’ Surely there are sexist jerks everywhere?

Sadly for the She-Hulk Apartment Hunt, her expectations are also a little LA centric. You’re just not going to find an affordable condo with a hot-tub in New York.

Wasp asks what She-Hulk has against the free rent at Avengers Mansion with its built-in sauna that they’ve apparently always had but never mentioned.

Avengers Mansion is real nice!

She-Hulk says she can’t get behind the idea of living where she works but as someone who works from home its actually highly recommended! Although, She-Hulk’s situation is more ‘firemen live in the firehouse’ so it lacks the ‘don’t have to wear pants to work’ aspect.

Then the apartment hunt is interrupted by an incoming crossover slash a stampede.

She-Hulk grabs a random panicking passerby out of the crowd and asks whats going on but he can’t give a good answer.

She-Hulk: “Hot dog! I was hoping something would happen to break up the monotony. So far, this afternoon has been a big, dull...” -THUD-

First, I love She-Hulk’s enthusiasm for punching.

Also, hey, who put thin air in She-Hulk’s way!

There’s some kind of invisible barrier right across the sidewalk.

She-Hulk instantly decides that the thing to do is to TEAR INTO THE PAVEMENT TO SEE HOW DEEP IT GOES.

Instead of, y’know, feeling to see how wide it stretches.

Wasp tries blasting thin air too but to no avail.

Despite She-Hulk reminding everyone that “at close range, your sting can knock down a wall!”

And when she really tries, a whole house.

She-Hulk: “Wasp... This is impossible! We’re Avengers! Nothing can stop us!”

Wasp: “She-Hulk... I’ve the strangest feeling it just did.”

And apparently: this is to be continued in THE ANNIHILATION GAMBIT! Which is a crossover with Fantastic Four!

Which means I actually need to pop over to an Avengers Annual first because despite running into the invisible wall (Sue, is that you?) the Avengers are doing stuff on the Moon before getting involved.

I dunno. I’ll see when I get to it.

And you will too! Provided you follow @essential-avengers! Also maybe like and reblog? Who can say.

#avengers #Plantman #the Wasp #Captain America #Thor #Captain Marvel #Monica Rambeau #she hulk #Starfox #Iron Man #Tony Stark #James Rhodes #we learn whats going on with iron man #starfox has a good day #hawkeye is a rude #essential avengers #essential marvel liveblogging

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singingvio · 4 years

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Some Four Swords Headcanons

- Shadow was created as an enemy much earlier than we see in the manga.

There isn’t a lot of evidence, exactly, but if you look at the other games and manga you often see Dark Link created in front of you, and they always are just a mirror image, with little to no personality developed and seemingly no free will. This might be the result of a rush job, creating another being on the spot. Now, let’s take a look at Ravio and Shadow.

Ravio was obviously a child and had a life before we meet him in-game, but is still a version of Dark Link, being the opposite of the hero. He also shows genuine emotion and is not just copying whatever Link does, but has his own desires, beliefs, and dreams, along with fears and dislikes.

And Shadow is much more like Ravio, who definitely had a life before the story starts, than Dark Links created on the spot. He has an actual personality, emotions, and fears, and as proven by the ending scene in the manga, he definitely has free will.

I think that Shadow is from a Dark World like Ravio’s that is an inverse of Hyrule, but in a different way than Lorule. He was simply summoned from the Dark World, triggered by the Four Sword. Not created on the spot. It makes more sense than him being created on the spot, especially since he seems to have developed his own plan of what happens seemingly without orders, very unlike other Dark Links.

- Green is jealous of Blue.

As we already know, Green and Blue fight. A lot. Most of these fights are actually unprompted. Even when they’re training, it’s more actual arguing than just constructive criticism.

The reasons that led me to believe Green is jealous of Blue? Most of their fights come from Blue claiming he’s the real Link, and Green arguing against him. This might lead you guys to believe that Blue’s the one who’s jealous, but I think it’s actually Green.

Green is considered the ‘real Link,’ and it’s because he doesn’t seem different from Link at all unless you look closely. The other Links, on the other hand, all have distinct personalities that are very different from the Link we know at the beginning of the manga. But Blue’s a bit different.

Link is brash, makes decisions on the spot, doesn’t like working together with others because he’s overconfident, gets frustrated easily, but still cares for his friends.

Green is determined and thinks quickly, making decisions on the spot as well, and despite saying he needs to work with the others, he still doesn’t like it. He also gets frustrated often when he can’t easily find a way out, though this is usually shown through him getting close to giving up.

Blue is brash, makes decisions on the spot, doesn’t seem to like working together, gets angered and frustrated easily, and still shows that he cares for the other Links.

Which one sounds more like Link? Blue. But Green is considered to be no different than Link. Blue, however, is treated just like the others, different than Link and obviously different in personality, strengths, and weaknesses. I think that Green is jealous that while Blue and he are the most like Link in almost the same ways, Blue is treated as another individual while Green is not. Sure, Green argues back that he’s the real Link, but I think he means it more in a way saying, ‘I’m the leader, please listen to me,’ than Blue saying, ‘I’m the only real one here, you all don’t deserve to be the real one.’

- Vio gets distracted easily and possibly has ADHD.

Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t seen a lot of people pick up on this yet. Lots of people (including me until I thought about this) portray Vio as being extremely focused (NOT hyperfocused, that’s a very different thing) on whatever he wants to do, not getting distracted easily. But really, he never really shows that in the manga.

When reading the book on Force Gems, he doesn’t seem to really be paying attention to the book, instead choosing to argue with Blue about patience. (patience, not focus. They’re extremely different things). In fact, when he’s reading, he actually looks bored, like he’s done reading and wants something else to do.

I love reading myself, but since I have ADHD, I get distracted after five minutes or so, and then force myself to continue reading while barely paying attention myself. This is one of the reasons I felt extremely connected to Vio as a character.

You might argue Vio’s just getting a bit bored because he’s been reading for a long time, but there really isn’t any proof of that. Green and Blue have obviously been training for a while, sure, and Vio’s reading during that time, but take a look at Red. He was able to cook up an entire meal, for all four of them to eat. Since they don’t appear to be near any particular villages to buy ingredients, he must have caught the fish and gotten spices some other way, right? And he probably couldn’t have done it all by himself and also managed to actually make the meal.

I think Vio helped him for most of the time, then thought to read up on Force Gems so he got a book he probably bought beforehand and started reading it after helping Red prepare some of the meal. Then he got bored quickly and started arguing with Blue to pass the time.

There are also other instances where Vio gets lost in thought, and his train of thought is a lot like mine. It seems straightforward, but also, he kind of jumps to conclusions. At one part in the beginning, when Arcy starts talking he immediately zeroes in on one phrase that, honestly, doesn’t mean anything, and then just stops talking. He’s extremely perceptive, that I can’t argue against, but also doesn’t focus on one thing for long and sometimes focuses on the wrong thing out of pure curiosity and also disinterest in whatever else is going on.

- Blue would rather rely on others than work himself, despite what he says.

Honestly, Blue’s treatment of the other Links seems too harsh even for him. To me, it seems like he’s trying to keep the others away from him, but why? My guess is it’s because the other Links claim they don’t want to work as a team, and so Blue follows their claims so he’s not the ‘odd Link out.’ I think he’s actually scared of being left out, and he’s more of a people-pleaser than even Red sometimes, no matter how subtle it is.

A lot of situations Blue gets in has him rely on other people instead of himself. In the ice cave, he has to wait for Red to unfreeze him. In the temple of darkness, he needs Red’s help to free him from the Poe. In the other battles, he always acts after the others say or do something that prompts him. (Stone Arrghus he hits on the head only after Vio is able to incapacitate him. He waits for action until after Vio already does something.)

Honestly, I think Blue puts up a facade to hide how much he actually relies on the others, and when he’s alone, he’s almost always defeated, probably because he wants someone to back him up so he’s not feeling helpless. And, when Vio supposedly turns to the side of darkness? Blue gets really upset, and even believes Vio’s an illusion because he doesn’t want his teammate betraying him and the others, it might break him.

And when Green ‘dies,’ Blue is the first to rush to his side, Red following after him, because he can’t lose another teammate. And instead of sitting there like Red, he actually tries to shake Green awake, something I’m pretty sure the Blue that doesn’t like the others that much wouldn’t do.

- Red can somehow sense magical creatures.

I honestly don’t have to say much for this one. Miss Fairy just somehow finding him? Really? I don’t believe that, it seems too random. And how did he get out of the situation with the town trying to probably burn him alive?

He ran into the woods, and as many Zelda gamers know, the woods are absolutely full of fairies, but they’re often hard to find without some sort of trick. These tricks usually require a weapon, and Red only has the Fire Rod, which I don’t think would do any good in a forest.

I think, somehow, Red is able to sense magical creatures, like fairies, an ability unique to him. He probably ran into the woods, scared, and sensed a fairy sanctuary or something to hide in. There, he found Miss Fairy. “When I was in trouble, it showed me the way,” he tells Blue. Miss Fairy agreed to help him and teleported him out of the village, straight to the pyramid to help him find the others.

#four swords #shadow link #green link #vio link #blue link #red link #four swords headcanons #ellis speaks #Red's part was short sorry #and now I am really set on Vio having ADHD.#fun fact ADHD also lets you go into hyperfocus #I forgot to eat for a full day once because I was writing #it's kind of annoying but it's rare to happen for very long periods of time.

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angsty-nerd · 4 years

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Thinky Thoughts on Max in 2x06

I’ve been thinking a lot about the various perspectives on Max’s character changes in 2x06, and while I was VERY insistent yesterday on Max being Max and being happy during the calm before the storm, I definitely have forced myself to rethink a little bit overnight. Even in my delirious, sleep deprived state of mind from this episode, I still refuse to believe that Max wasn’t Max during those scenes with Liz (particularly after getting his memories back). But that doesn’t mean that there wasn’t something WRONG. So here are some big thoughts from me.

Not going to lie. It did seem way too easy to “fix” Dark!Max. 10 years of destructive energy and all it took was a little earthquake, some lightning thrown around and that’s it? TEN YEARS. Liz wasn’t even dead for like a minute in the pilot and he blew out all the power in town with that dark energy. And his little earthquake didn’t seem to extend outside of the gym -- nothing was damaged or anything outside or around town. I definitely see an argument for there still being dark energy within him to expel.

It was JARRING how quickly he went from “I don’t like a stranger knowing all of our secrets.” to flirting and “people who don’t know each other go on dates all the time”. I was able to dismiss it easily at first because he was so friggin charming and cute at the market. What was it that Mo said? The full weight of his charm thrown at Liz for the first time? And I know he was grumpy about the sciencing and the talking about him like an experiment in the lab, but he was kinda rude to Liz. And then to be showing off in front of her and flirting? People, he had a jacket on in the market scene, but you can see that he’s wearing the same shirt as he was in the lab scene. It’s CLEARLY the same day and very little time has passed. So did Michael and Isobel just have that good of a talk with him? Or what?

I might need to just explore the Liz erasure in his brain some more at some point. I think the thing that bothered me was the absolutely lovely exchange about the worst things they’d ever done - one of my favorite scenes in the episode, to be honest. It makes sense to me that he doesn’t remember the Rosa incident. It also makes sense to me that he thinks that killing the drifter was the worst thing he’d ever done. Even in 1x06, he made it pretty clear that his first murder was still haunting him, even years later. Even after Rosa. But the continuation of that...the feelings about death and not being willing to hurt someone else. His admission that he wanted to stay dead so that he didn’t kill again. He remembers that. He remembers begging Isobel to let him die. But he doesn’t seem to remember Rosa (because she’s connected to Liz) and he doesn’t seem to remember Rosa being his only connection to the outside world, and he doesn’t seem to remember that what he was begging for was for them to “Stop Liz”. I keep thinking of his mindscape, and the storm and the darkness... is it just this weird patchy cloud over pieces of his memory? Like parts of it are clear to him and other parts are just fuzzy or shrouded?

And speaking of darkness and light, let’s talk about the other side of that. The happy. GOD, Max without the memory of Liz was so happy. He was so light, and confident, and inhibition free. It was so compelling and lets be real, it was friggin sexy as hell. Clearly Liz thought so too, until that “worst thing” conversation when she figured out WHY he was so light and happy. But the thing is...I’m not sure it actually went away after his memories came back. Even after remembering Liz and Rosa and everything, he still seemed to be lighter than before. Mind you, some of that is getting the girl, getting laid, etc, etc. But I wonder if some of it is also just the weight of the guilt lifting off of his shoulders. Like, for right now at least, everything feels like things are right in the world. Until the flash of course...

And I’ll get to the flash eventually, but first this. Isobel pointed it out. ��Does he seem different to you?” And yes, it seems like a warning shot. But Liz pointed it out too at the end of the “worst thing” conversation. He IS different. And he SHOULD be different. First, because of the lack of Liz history, but then also because of the lifting of the guilt. I’m not entirely convinced that this was supposed to be anything more than building to that epiphany from Liz (which was probably mostly directed at the audience) that he might be better off without her -- which was also intended to lead to that response from him on the rooftop, “I am not whole without you”. That Max was light and fluffy, but he was missing something. He was *gasp* WRONG. So maybe this was all just building to that moment of acceptance of himself too.

Sort of off topic here, but did anyone else find themselves wondering about how open and public Max was in this episode? Amnesia!Max going to the Mexican market by himself. Meeting Liz publicly for a date. Making out on the street in the middle of town. This is the same Max Evans who was missing for months because supposedly he was so heartbroken. This is the same Max whose boss thinks he murdered Noah and hasn’t stopped investigating him in the months that he’s been missing. Thye’re not going to just DROP that, right? At some point they’ve gotten give us some Max & sheriff interaction? Does he even get his job back after all this!?!

Anyway, back on topic. The time jump. Yes, that was weird. And purposeful. It’s clearly early morning when Max leaves Liz at the Crashdown, and Isobel says it’s, like, 2pm when he got home. Is this simply the fault of a cut scene? Crappy editing? Or is it a purposeful time jump. I will throw out there one naive and happy theory, which is this: it is totally in character for happy lovesick Max to stop everything to write his feelings down. He was going through his journals earlier in the episode. It’s possible he was just sitting somewhere writing poems about Liz. Or love letters. Or whatever. BUT, that does feel too obvious. I think the idea of him losing time, of someone else taking over while he was heading home, is a very interesting, scary, and plausible theory.

Okay, so I still think that’s a memory flash at the end. I think from a plot standpoint, the purpose of the whole amnesia plotline was to feed Max some antidote so that he would start to remember things from before the crash. And maybe it took a little longer because the “natural” amnesia had to resolve itself first before the “unnatural” triggering of memories from the antidote could do its thing. And I do think the hand on the shoulder is clearly mirroring the hand in 1947 that lit the military dudes on fire. And I suspect they’re the same person, but I could be wrong. I could get behind the theory that it’s even Max -- some dark version of him, some Alien!Jesus version of him. Although if it’s the latter then it’s kind of super creepy. Especially given the evil twin imagery that @maxortecho has documented really well over on her blog.

Okay, another thing about this whole evil twin, Jekyll and Hyde thing. I don’t think we’re done with Noah yet. I think IF there’s an evil presence inside of Max it might be Noah, or it might be there because of Noah. I just want to remind y’all about the end of 1x13 right before Max kills Noah. “We are Ophiuchus, Max! The man and the serpent, the serpent and the man. They aren’t killing each other. They are one!” That was a pretty fascinating and direct line, and it brings me back to this: we still don’t know what the deal with Ophiuchus was. Why was Noah so obsessed with it? He identified with Ophiuchus, but he also identified himself and MAX with Ophiuchus. Is Noah the shadowy figure in the cave with Max? Is Noah the darkness inside of Max? Is that Max/Noah struggle that we saw in Rosa’s dream in 2x01 still ongoing? Is Noah going to still try to take over? I think it is very plausible that all of this imagery is still leading back to that incident.

So, to sum it up. Things are both as good as they seem, and as scary as they seem. There are a lot of interesting possibilities out there. And I am fascinated to see what comes next for Max.

Shallow eye candy to close this out:

#max evans reboot #max evans #rnm echo #roswell new mexico #i love him #rnm echo meta #roswellnm meta #long post

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banditthewriter · 5 years

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Choose Your Fate - Logan Delos - 15

Well, you all wanted to see more of the trip. Don’t worry, I explain what happened with Marco. But hopefully you all still enjoy this part.

This is it folks! This is the last part. Thank you so much for joining me on this trip. And thank you for your constant participation! Until next time... here we go!

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif not mine*

Enjoy!

*****

“Ow, ow, okay, that hurts,” you whined as you shifted your weight, bracing your hands against the table.

“You shouldn’t be up and moving around yet,” your sister said as she rolled into the room. “Didn’t Logan tell you he’d be mad if you didn’t listen to the doctors?”

“Logan isn’t the one that’s been stuck in bed for two weeks,” you complained as you looked over at your sister.

You had woken up in the hospital in a panic. Your last memory was passing out after being shot, but you weren’t sure if Logan would be safe in the room with the host version of himself. Apparently shooting the thing had incapacitated some of its capabilities, but not all of them, hence the bullet they dug out of your back.

Logan hadn’t been at your bedside when you woke up, but he was there after you were hugged by each of your family members. He hadn’t cried in front of them, but his eyes were suspiciously red when he leaned in to kiss you.

Your immediate worry, once the doctor promised that you would be up and moving in no time, was Marco. Logan was quick to tell you what had come of that.

“You were right about using Janus to track him. I had some of your engineers work on it since they know the program and it led us right to him.”

“You caught him?”

Logan had grinned so wide that you couldn’t help but copy him. It was over.

Except it wasn’t over just yet. The detectives had brought the video of them storming the makeshift lab. There had been a host version of you, but it wasn’t finished. It seemed that Logan becoming CEO had disrupted Marco’s plans and he had to improvise.

In his lab was evidence of him working with one of your employees as well. Cody Black, one of the engineers who had been supposedly helping you find out what he was doing in the archives. When he had been arrested, he immediately spilled everything. Including that he was supposed to have abducted Logan when he went to a nearby warehouse looking for you.

It didn’t answer why Marco had wanted to do all of this, but that was why you were trying to walk once more. Marco had offered to confess to everything but he would only confess to you. You had expected Logan to have a problem with it, but he had been supportive.

Your family on the other hand…

“I’m still doing this,” you told your sister as you lowered yourself onto the edge of your bed, rolling your ankles a bit as you did. “I have too many unanswered questions.”

Jo gave you a look.

“Is knowing why he made creepy host versions of you and Logan going to make that go away? The pain?”

Not just the physical. Jo was the only one you had told everything to. The pain you had felt when you thought Logan wanted to end things hadn’t been anything compared to the terror you’d felt when you thought that you had shot the real Logan.

“It might not make it go away, but it’ll help me to stop questioning it,” you admitted quietly as you looked down at your hands.

Jo rolled closer to you and grabbed your hand.

“Logan will be there with you, right? Not in the room, but waiting for you?” At your nod, she smiled and gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “He’ll make sure you’re alright. If he’s around, I know that you’re safe.”

It was as close to a gold seal of approval as you get.

------

Logan shut the door behind the two of you, helping you limp over to the couch. He got you settled, making sure your feet were propped up and that you had enough cushion behind your back. Then he snuggled in behind you as best as he could without hurting you.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said as he smoothed a hand down your side. “What did he say?”

You linked your fingers with Logan’s and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“He said that he would have given his all to the company. When I turned him down for stealing from Delos to try to further Janus, he decided that I wasn’t the person that should be running the company. He made the decision to steal from Delos, get Janus to work, and replace me.”

Logan nodded slowly, because that all sounded like what the two of you had theorized already.

“So where did the fake me come into play?”

“He was sick, completely insane. He thought that you were the reason I was hesitant to sacrifice my company’s reputation,” you said with a humorless laugh, “so he wanted you out of the picture. He wanted to use the fake you to lure me out. He was going to plan some sort of accident to explain why Marco-as-me didn’t remember everything that I remember. And it would serve to get rid of you too.”

You felt him tense behind you.

“He was going to kill me.”

You nodded, closing your eyes. You turned your head so that you could bury your face into his neck.

“He said that I was going to be spared. I was going to be kept to feed him information. I would have been his prisoner.”

His arm around your waist tightened.

“I can’t help but think prison is too good for him and his cohorts,” he said in a dark tone. “At least you realized that it wasn’t really me. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t.”

You looked over to the place on the floor where the host’s body had fallen. There wasn’t any sign of what had happened, but you could still see it as if it was happening again.

Once or twice in the weeks since the shooting, you had started to flinch away from Logan. He always found a way to calm you, bringing up something only the two of you would know. Each moment was a reminder that Marco was captured, Logan was real.

“He first asked me to run away with him,” you said quietly, your voice wavering a bit. “I guess that was when he planned the accident. When I said that wasn’t a good idea, he… well, you, I guess. To me it was you. You told me that we didn’t know each other, that you didn’t want to become CEO but you did it for me.”

You could feel him take a breath, most likely to respond to that, but you weren’t done yet. It would be easier to do it in one go.

“When you came back, you said that we shouldn’t be together. That if you were going to be CEO, you couldn’t be with me. That’s when I kind of realized that it wasn’t you,” you admitted as you turned your head a bit to look at him. “You… he… said something that I had heard from Marco a few times. I guess in my head, I told myself that there’s no way you would have wanted to leave me and that it had to be something wrong.”

You weren’t sure what you would have done if it would have turned out that it was actually Logan that wanted to end things. It would have been horrible, but at least it wasn’t real.

And of course you had told Logan about what you had asked the host; it was the same question you had asked Logan when he had gotten to the house, so he expected as much.

“There’s nothing I could want more than this,” he said with a gentle squeeze around your waist, his face turning to tuck into your neck. “I know that sounds insane considering we’ve only been together for a few months, but I mean it. There’s so few real things in my life that when I find one, I have to hold on to it.”

You closed your eyes and found yourself smiling.

“Are you always this honest?”

“Always,” he promised into the soft skin of your neck, his lips brushing there gently.

------

The cabin was rather secluded. It wasn’t the only house on this mountain, but none of the others were closer than a few miles. It felt strange to go out onto the deck and not see water. Instead all you saw were trees and the hills and valleys that surrounded the mountain.

“What are you doing out here?”

You looked over your shoulder and grinned at Logan, urging him forward. He rolled his eyes but joined you on the deck, his arms immediately going around your waist and pressing his chin against your shoulder.

“It’s peaceful out here,” you said as you snuggled him a little closer to you.

“It’s after midnight,” he pointed out, not doing anything to bring you back to the house. “Nightmares again?”

They came and went. Sometimes you dreamed about what your life could have been if Marco had succeeded his poorly thought out plan. Other times your dreams were plagued with Logan’s face. Him breaking your heart, him dying with your bullets in his chest; the dreams never stopped being creative.

“Therapist says it’s normal,” you said as you leaned into his embrace a bit more. “It’s getting easier to deal with.”

It was the reason the two of you had decided to get away to the mountains. Being in that house was eating you alive. Logan was working remotely, with Juliet handling anything that required a physical presence. It helped her keep her mind off of her ex-fiance’s sentencing and it meant she got to help the both of you.

And you? Well, you had told Logan that you were working remotely as well, but there was something else. Something you hadn’t told him about just yet.

It could go on the list of things you hadn’t told him yet.

“Logan?”

“Hm?”

“Before the host shot me, you had said something to me.”

He was quiet for a moment before he turned you around. He leaned you until you were pressed against the railing that went around the deck. He tilted your face up until you could meet his eyes in the light that poured out of the house behind him.

“I love you.”

It was so simply said, as if the earth wasn’t shattering under you. You smiled at him before you spoke.

“I should have said it back to you, before everything happened. I should have said it every day since. I love you Logan,” you said as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I love you. I think I have for a long time.”

His hand slid up your back until he could cup the back of your head, tugging you in for a kiss. You responded immediately, running your tongue over his lips. His other hand went to your side and down to rest on your hip.

“Want to come back inside now?”

You grinned as you leaned up so that your body rubbed along his.

“The other option is potentially getting splinters from this deck,” you joked as you pushed him back just enough for you to slip around him, your hand going to his to guide him back towards the house. “Let’s see if we can wake the neighbors.”

His hungry grin was a promise to do just that.

------

You were face down on the bed, your head supported by your arm. The sheet was tucked around your waist, but you were completely nude other then that. Logan preferred you that way.

He was naked as well, his top half draped along your back. You felt his fingers trace shapes over your shoulder blades.

His lips pressed against the still healing scar tissue of the wound on your back. Then you felt him lay his cheek against your back next to the scar. His facial hair tickled against your skin.

"What're you doin'?" you drawled from your half asleep state.

"Reminding myself that I could have lost you."

You frowned. Slowly you rolled over so that he was resting on your stomach and peering up at you instead.

"I'm right here."

He nodded, rubbing his stubble against you until you had to push his shoulder to make him stop.

"I know you are. But I also know what you did. You saw the gun and you put yourself in the path. You–you could have died trying to protect me."

You sat up and pulled him with you. Face to face, you linked your fingers with his.

"You would have done it for me," you explained softly. "I know you would have if you'd seen it instead of me."

He nodded and leaned forward until he could rest his forehead against yours.

"I've never felt like this before. Responsible for someone else's life. I promised your dad I would keep you safe and you got shot."

You surged up onto your knees, cupping his face between your hands.

"No one blames you for that. I mean it Logan, it wasn't your fault at all. You being with me almost got you killed too, remember?"

He wrapped his arms around you. Slowly he eased himself down until you were resting on top of him. His hand smoothed down your back, his fingers barely grazing the scar.

"I love you, Logan Delos."

He smiled and tilted your head up until he could press a kiss to your lips.

"Love you too, Y/N Y/L/N."

------

Your legs were draped over Logan’s lap. He had been working on the laptop for most of the morning and you had your tablet in hand. Your workload had changed recently so you were mostly just reading articles on everything that had happened with the trial.

Marco had been convicted, as had William and Cody Black. You hadn’t looked at much more beyond verifying that they wouldn’t be let out anytime in the near future.

“You want to run down to the store tonight or in the morning? We’ll need more food if we’re gonna stay here much longer,” Logan said as he closed his laptop and put it on the floor next to the couch.

“How long are we staying here? Don’t you have to get back to Delos?”

He shrugged his shoulder and leaned back against the couch a bit more.

“There’s a lot that I can do from a computer or with a few phone calls. Juliet is handling things as CEO pro tempore. We can stay here as long as you can stay away from Y/L/N.”

You knew you needed to tell Logan. It wasn’t like you could hide it much longer.

��There’s something I need to tell you,” you said softly as you pulled your legs out of his lap, placing your tablet down on the table behind the couch.

“That doesn’t sound good. What is it?”

“Right before we came on this trip, Jo and I decided something. It’s official at the office but we haven’t made it public yet. I stepped down from the position of CEO.”

His face didn’t change immediately, but then you watched his eyebrows furrow.

“Wait, what?”

You let out a little bit of a laugh and shrugged a shoulder.

“I never wanted the position. I took it because I love the company, but it was never for me. I prefer to be in the lab, honestly. And Jo is finally at a place where she feels like she can get back into the limelight. So she’s taking over the position and I’m joining Buckley back in design.”

Logan stared at you for a moment longer before a wide grin split his face. He surged forward and captured your lips, leaning over until you had to lay back on the couch. His body rested against yours as he continued to kiss you.

“It’s what you’ve wanted since the beginning,” he said against your lips with a grin. “You’ll be doing what you love.”

“Yes I will,” you said pointedly as you spread your legs as best as you could on the couch, letting him settle between them.

He gave you a lewd grin before he propped himself up.

“Why didn’t you tell me to start with?”

You shrugged a shoulder as you tried to keep from wriggling under him. Now that your body was being held down by his, you were getting turned on.

“I didn’t know what you’d think. You just became a CEO and I’m stepping down. I’m a little worried people will think I did it because of us.”

Logan shook his head. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his fingers gentle against your skin.

“If anyone thinks that, we can tell them how wrong they are. You did this for you and you know what? It’s about time. You gotta choose what you want in this life. Gotta choose it and then you gotta take it.”

You ran your hand through his hair, tracing the curve of his ear. Then you leaned up to give him a kiss, soft and sweet.

“I already chose what I want in this life,” you said softly. “I want you.”

His grin softened and he leaned in to kiss you again, his lips fitting against yours so easily.

“You got me.”

And you did. You had taken control of your life, made your own fate as it were. Logan had helped you see that you needed to do what made you happy. All of your future plans had Logan in them and that was only the beginning.

There was so much more to come. You couldn’t wait.

Thank you for joining me on this adventure!

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