got a 79 on my economics finals i need to jump off a cliff 😂

Fuegoleon x Female Y/N

Word Count: 2,020

Laundry Day

Summary: Captain Fuegoleon had a laundry room added to the Crimson Lion base to teach it's knights about chores and responsibilities. Y/N has never seen anyone use it, until one night her captain joins her for a wash.

Warnings: Semi / Public Sex, Fuegoleon being how he is, Talk of ballsacks, Cum, Adulthood Responsibilities

Having nice clothes was an unspoken rule of the Crimson Lions. No one left their rooms without looking their best, everyone even had silk robes for late night snack adventures around the base. However, those who lived at the base lacked certain resources they were accustomed to at home, maids, servants, and mamas to do their laundry. Could they have hired a few to help the hopeless royals and noble knights? Sure, but that wouldn’t bare them a lesson, so good ol’ Captain Fuegoleon had instead created a room full of ‘machines’ that would ‘wash their clothes.’ He had a very gaudy sign made for the door that had “laundry room” illustrated with too many frills, but what can we expect from a team that has Kings in their name. Nonetheless, most members went home often and took their washings with them. They’ll train day and night to put their life on the line for the kingdom, but god forbid they wash their own underwear, including the man who made the room. No one had ever seen him walking around the castle with a laundry basket on his hip.

But there were perks to this.

Y/N had the laundry room all to herself. She waited until late at night to spare herself the gossip of doing her own chores, but once everyone was settled into their dorms she made a beeline for the washers, adorning her robe so she could walk around if she felt like it and not get a “what are you doing up so late?” interrogation. Obviously no one else was in the room so she could use up as many machines as she wanted, taking time to sort out her delicate underwear and stained training clothes. A wicked idea crossed her mind. Y/N removed her robe and set it to the side, took over her silk pajama set and threw it into the delicate cycle, before putting her robe back on. Very little hid her from the world, but as far as she was concerned the “world” was asleep and wouldn’t dare to enter this room.

If she were a lady, which she was, she would just sit in and wait for the cycles to finish, but as the washers went through their cycles they made vibrations that just felt… good against her body. She leaned against it letting the vibrations help relax her sore arms and legs.

“Maybe if I lay down on all of them I’ll be able to get my whole body at the same time!”

Y/N turned her back to the machine, placing her palms on top in order to hoist herself up on top, but as she sat down she felt a different kind of relaxing vibration.

“I shouldn’t indulge in this behavior…. But no one is around to witness it…”

Y/N closed her eyes and allowed her body to relax while certain feelings went through her core. Her robe became looser as the cycle went on. Her eyes were closed and head was rolled back, but as she opened her mouth to let out a moan the door to the laundry room ripped open. Fast and quiet but it was enough for her to notice. Jerking her head up she saw her captain standing in the doorway, with a woven basket full of clothes in his arm.

She had a millisecond to cover herself from him.

“Cap-Captain! What are you doing here,” Y/N slammed her legs together while trying to close her robe.

He arched a brow at her, “Laundry, as one does in the laundry room… Why are you sitting on the machine?”

“I just… like the way it feels…” Idiot. Why would you say that?

Fuegoleon gave her the side eye while loading his own washer and added the soap like he’d been doing it for years. So pretty boy does his own laundry? Interesting. Y/N was still sitting on top of the washer, too scared of giving a free show if she moved.

“Are you going to sit on it until it’s done?”

“You know, it’s good for my sore muscles. Which I have because I’ve been training so hard!”

“Oh… well maybe I should try it too.”

Why was Captain Fuegoleon so… like this?

“Okay,” Y/N squeaked out and watched in horror as her captain climbed on top of the washing machine next to her, curiosity and excitement all over his face.

“I’m not sure I understand,” his eyes crossed in confusion as the vibes clearly did nothing for his ass and thighs.

So his balls aren’t big enough to touch the surface he sits on…

“Excuse me?”

Y/N’s face became very red, had she said that out loud?!

“You should try laying down on it!” She screeched out, motioning for him to use her lap as a pillow.

Fuegoleon’s eyes crossed, “You are absolutely right, Y/N! Thank you,” he moved his legs on top of the machine, resting his head on her thigh, which gave him a perfect very of her under breast.

“H-how’s that, Captain?”

“I can feel my muscles being stimulated! This is an amazing discovery, Y/N!”

“Thank you?”

“Oh! You should join me, come lay down next to me.”

Y/N looked down and the limited space on top of the machines.

“I’m not sure we will both fit, Captain.”

Fuegoleon followed her eyes, thinking.

“How about you lay on top of me and I rub your muscles, then we switch sides when your clothes are put in the dryer.”

Y/N felt something deep in her melt at the idea of getting a massage from her captain.

“O-okay.”

Fuegoleon lifted his head to give her room to remove herself. She stood on the ground, placed her hands on either side of his head and lifted herself on top of him. Hovering over him she remembered that she was naked under her robe, which was thin and now hanging off her body. She gulped and prayed he didn’t notice as she laid her body on top of his.

Without a word more, his hands went to her shoulders rubbing downwards in circular motions. It took everything in Y/N’s power to not moan whenever he stimulated a particularly sore part. It didn’t help that her hips were rested right above his and she could feel the vibrations through him.

The ringing of the finished cycle was her only salvation. Fuegoleon’s face looked funny as she lifted herself up to move her clothes to the dryer. She gave him a questioning look before a draft alerted her what was wrong. Her robe had moved open, stopping at her hard nipples. She flew her hands up to shut the fabric once more before jumping off of him.

“I am so sorry Captain,” she ripped open the washer door, “I think I would like to go to my room while my clothes dry,” Y/N was throwing her wet training clothes into the washer.

“Is there any particular reason why, Y/N,” Fuegoleon asked.

“No…” she turned around to find he had opened her other washer to help her, but had pulled out one tiny, lace thong. His eyes narrowed as he observed how it stretched between his two pointer fingers.

Y/N wanted to die right then and there.

“I wasn’t aware you were seeing someone,” was all he said as she chucked the underwear back into the machine and grabbed its contents completely.

“Wh-why would you say that,” she squeaked, taking the load from him and turning around to throw them in another dryer.

“You don’t wear those for training, do you,” his voice tickled her ear. Y/N’s eyes rolled from the sensation of its warmth.

“S-sometimes I do,” she slammed the door shut and messed with the settings

“Why,” he pushed her flush against the dryers, “Hoping someone might see them?”

“Captain…”

Fuegoleon removed himself from Y/N.

“I apologize, Y/N. It seems I misread you. Forgive me.” He sat in a chair on the opposite side of the room.

Y/N had 5 seconds to either go to her room or make a once in a lifetime decision. And she was brash so…

After hitting start on the dryer she slowly walked to her captain.

“I wear them hoping you will invite me to your dorm afterwards for a shared bath.”

Fuegoleon looked up from his lap. Y/N’s hands were on the tie of her robe. As he opened his mouth to speak she pulled on it and let it slide down her shoulders. Leaving herself completely bare to him.

His eyes became dark with hunger.

“Thank god,” he stood up and started throwing off his clothes, “I thought I had just made an ass of myself.”

Y/N had seen his naked chest before while training, but it was different now. She let her eyes move downward, she stopped to take in his throbbing cock. She gaped at its size. It would never fit in her mouth.

“Tell me, Y/N, are my balls still not big enough?”

A blush crept across her face, “I didn’t mean for you to hear that.”

“Then make it up to me.”

Y/N walked forward, stopped when their chest touched before dropping to her knees.

The pair maintained eye contact as Y/N reached out her tongue, giving his member a long lick. Fuegoleon nodded in approval. Y/N wrapped her mouth around the head, lightly sucking as she made her way down his shaft.

Fuegoleon growled in pleasure as Y/N bobbed her head. His cock was so long she could only get half of it in her mouth, gagging as she tried to fit in more. Fuegoleon pushed back her shoulders and lifted her up.

“I’d rather taste you than have you taste me, darling,” then laid her down on his washers which were still vibrating.

Fuegoleon put his hands on Y/N’s inner thighs, lightly massaging before spreading them open. His face was at level with her wet opening.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he purred before taking a long lick over her bundle of nerves. “You’re so sweet,” he sucked, hard.

Y/N reached for Fuegoleon’s hair, pulling it as she moaned on his tongue. He continued to take laps at her. Her pussy dripped down her curves and onto the washer.

“I want you,” Y/N whimpered.

Fuegoleon growled, continuing his feast.

“Please,” she shrieked as an orgasm ripped through her body.

“There we go,” he murmured, unbending his back.

Their eyes met, “Please,” Y/N repeated.

Fuegoleon pulled Y/N to the edge of the washer, “There is nothing that would make me happier.”

He lined his cock up with her vagina, taking his time sinking inside of her. Y/N gasped as his member hit her innermost wall.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he leaned down to suck on her nipple, “You feel so good.” Fuegoleon slowly pulled out, almost completely, before ramming himself back inside. He did it again and again. Y/N was a wet, mewling mess beneath him.

“Fuegoleon,” she cried as his cock hit her most sensitive spot.

“That’s what I was looking for, do you like that, Y/N?”

He taunted her, hitting the spot repeatedly. All Y/N could do was moan and scream.

“Good girl,” he latched his mouth to hers, swallowing her cries of pleasure.

She tightened around him, signalling she was close. He twitched in response.

“Together,” he growled, “We come together.” Y/N nodded.

A final thrust was their undoing, Y/N spasmed around him, shaking with the washer. Fuegoleon spilled inside her, so deep and hot. He stayed sheathed inside her while he caught his breath, leaning his head on her shoulder.

“That was…”

“Amazing,” Y/N answered. He gave her a smile.

The beep of his washer was their signal to get put together.

“I’m hoping you’ll join me in my room to fold our clothes once we’re done, Y/N.”

And she was more than inclined to agree.

As It Should Be | Chapter 5: Breaking In The Newbies

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales

Summary: After a rough and emotional night, Frankie makes a decision on Jack’s offer. Before they can get to that though, the morning debrief with Champ brings back a familiar face and Jack has you and Frankie teach the junior agents a lesson during combat training.

Rating: M

Warnings: Canon typical violence, guns, swearing, discussions about safewords.

A/N: Alright, a lot of stuff needed to happen here and we’re going to have a little action and see Frankie show off a bit. It was important to me that the discussion of safe words and Jack checking again for consent happened in a chapter separate from the actual smut. For me, it further emphasizes that Jack doesn’t want Frankie to feel pressured to accept or do anything he doesn’t want to because it’s “in the moment”. Consent is sexy, friends.

I have to give my love and thanks to mi esposa @danniburgh and my friend Agent Capri Sun for the beta reads, the fantastic constructive criticism and encouragement!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Chapter 4: Company | AO3 | Art

The morning sun stirred Frankie. Even with his eyes still closed, he could tell the room was alight, but the warmth that surrounded him had nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with the body next to him. He opened his eyes and realized he was definitely not in Whiskey’s guest bedroom. Instead, he was very much curled into Whiskey’s lightly rising chest. Frankie blushed, very unused to being the little spoon, and moreover, not used to someone’s morning wood poking at him. Whiskey was gently roused from sleep by Frankie’s small movements. He lifted his arm from around Frankie’s waist and stretched.

“G’morning Flyboy. You were having nightmares, so I brought you in here.

“Oh, sorry for waking you up and… thank you.” Frankie felt guilt sting at his throat.

Whiskey grunted and rolled out of bed to go shower.

“Nothing to worry about, partner. I’m no stranger to those kinds of nightmares.”

Frankie was grateful Whiskey understood and made no effort to pry. With a grunt of his own, Frankie got up from the bed and made his way to the kitchen, intent on trying to get coffee going while Whiskey showered.

Whiskey finished his shower and stepped out to dry off, then wrapped his towel around his waist. He was drawn to the kitchen by the smell of coffee, Frankie’s initiative quirking the corners of his mouth into a small smile. He leaned against the kitchen counter and watched as Frankie poured their coffee, handing Whiskey’s to him black. Jack hummed his approval, a sound which he noted made Frankie preen a bit.

“Good boy.” Jack gestured to the coffee with a small wink as the air seemed to be pushed from Frankie’s lungs. “Now, as much as I enjoy the view of you in just my shorts, let's get you into something you can wear at the office.”

Frankie was rooted to the spot, Jack’s “good boy” ringing in his ears and sending a wave of warmth throughout his entire body. Jack didn’t comment, just let his smirk speak for itself as he took his coffee back to his room and opened the doors to his closet. His fingers tabbed at a few of the hanging suits as he looked back to see that Frankie had finally uprooted himself and joined him.

“We’re similar in build, so you ought to be able to pull off one of my suits…”

Frankie winced.

“Right, well then, let’s go with something a touch more casual.

Jack grabbed a pair of jeans, a blue button down, white t-shirt, belt, and socks, handing each article of clothing over to Frankie as he moved around his closet.

“There, that should do you. Comfortable, but still presentable for Statesman.”

Jack gave him a smile only to notice Frankie shifting his weight.

“Thanks,” came Frankie’s reply as he turned to get dressed. He didn’t mind going without boxers, but the sudden realization that he needed more clothes of his own hit Frankie as he dressed in the clothes Jack had given him.

“Hey Jack?”

Whiskey hummed in acknowledgement as he finished getting dressed himself: jeans, suspenders, white button down shirt, and a navy wool blazer.

“I was thinking about your offer last night, and… I’d like that.”

Whiskey turned to look at Frankie, giving him a once over, distantly thinking about how good Frankie looked in his clothes, and a mischievous smile lit up Whiskey’s face.

“I’m looking forward to it, Flyboy. We’ll discuss things a bit more at the end of the day in my office. It’s about as close to neutral territory as we’re gonna get for that conversation. For today though, I want you to be a good boy and stick to me like a shadow. We’re meeting with Champ first thing. Then, we’re gonna have some fun.”

Frankie nodded, rocking back on his heels for a moment, then fell in step with Whiskey as they headed out, both of them grabbing their respective hats as they went. The ride in Whiskey’s Bronco was quiet, and soon enough they were riding the elevator up to their floor in the Statesman tower.

You were seated at the conference table facing the double doors with Pope to your right.

“You sleep alright, Pope? Hope Ginger didn’t keep you too late.”

“She’s something, that’s for sure, Hawk, but she did let me go, eventually.”

He gave you a good natured laugh that slowly lost its shine.

“You hear from Fish, Hawk? Ginger told me where she put him up and I went to check on him last night, but he never answered.”

Worry bloomed in your chest, not that it had really gone away after seeing Frankie leave yesterday. You figured if he wanted or needed to talk, he would have reached out to you. Honestly, you had hoped he would have checked in with Pope at some point since he probably felt more comfortable with him. Just then, the conference double doors opened, giving way as Jack strode in, greeting you with a smile and tilt of his head. Relief eased the tension in your chest and shoulders when Frankie followed closely behind Jack. Your eyes darted over to Whiskey, fixing him with a questioning gaze as you realized the clothes Frankie was wearing belonged to Jack.

“Fish!” Pope practically jumped out of his chair, rushing over to Frankie with a duffle bag in tow. “I was worried about you, hermano. I went to the hotel, but you didn’t answer.”

To Frankie’s credit, his face didn’t betray much, but both you and Pope knew that Frankie didn’t have any other clothes aside from what he had left with.

“Uh, yeah, must’ve just missed you.”

You could tell Pope was filing the information away for later. Your eyes wandered to Jack’s again and you raised an eyebrow. At least you now had an idea why he had cancelled on you last night.

“Here, Fish. I figured you’d want your go bag.”

“Gracias, hermano.”

They clasped arms, then took their seats. Frankie grabbed the orange tinted glasses he had left the day before and put them on, adjusting them on the bridge of his nose. His gaze fell to yours and he gave you a small smile, but before you could say anything, Champ’s holo image flickered to life.

“Catfish! You’re looking mighty fine! Much better than yesterday.”

“Yes sir, thanks.”

Champ nodded. He’d been worried about how the man would fare, especially considering the news yesterday.

“Right, down to the business at hand. It does appear that a new cartel is making their play at center stage, picking up where Poppy left off. They’re not following Poppy’s business model, though. From what we understand, the group is headed by four individuals: Isabella Gómez, Duke Hernández, Steven Weisel and Emily Weisel. They’ve taken to calling themselves La Linda Rosa, likely after the Red Agent flowers. Up until now, they’ve been your run of the mill cartel, but it’s our belief that the Weisels have been instrumental in their production and processing of Agent Red. Recently, the Weisels purchased land in Colombia, and from our drone coverage, they may have set up processing plants there. We don’t know why the sudden shift to Agent Red, though. The plants themselves go for $500k per plant, and they take time to mature. We don’t think the Weisels are responsible for acquiring the plants, so that leaves either Isabella or Duke.”

Frankie’s attention drifted from Champ to the pictures on the screen and swore.

“Fuck. Pope, you know who that is, right? I thought they were in Australia?”

Pope did a double take, recognizing his old informant’s brother. The Statesman stared at the two men, waiting for them to elaborate. Frankie sighed and settled into his seat a bit more, knee bouncing anxiously.

“Four years ago, Pope came to me and the rest of our old team to take out Gabriel Martín Lorea and make out with the money he had stockpiled. Pope’s CI, Yovanna, and her brother, Duke, both worked for Lorea. In exchange for helping us, Pope got the brother out of jail and we dropped them off in Peru with papers to Australia and $3M. Looks like Duke wasn’t satisfied with life in Australia.”

Ginger frowned and pulled up Duke’s known associates, Yovanna’s picture following the others on screen.

“Yovanna appears to still be living in Australia, but it’s possible Duke grabbed the money and ran.”

Frankie closed his eyes, lifting his cap and carding his fingers through his hair before placing the hat back on his head and sighing.

“What’s the plan? Sounds like the plants and processing facilities need to be taken out, and then there’s the compound, too.”

Pope nodded, then sighed as well. This was bringing back memories for the both of them.

“We’ll also need to be wary of the local agencies. They’ll be on the lookout for anyone suspicious, especially if it’s anything like how it was with Lorea.”

Champ nodded and tilted his head to Ginger.

“We’re doing our own recon and then we’ll break out teams. Pope, Catfish, we’d like you to at least help with intel, and given your experience in taking down Lorea, if you’re up for it, I’d like you both on the compound assault team.”

You saw Pope and Frankie share a look, Frankie’s jaw clenched and then he nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Great, not to worry boys, Statesman has the best resources, stateside or otherwise. For now, I’m sure we can keep you plenty busy. Whiskey, don’t forget, today is your day for combat training with the new recruits. Bourbon, Cranberry needs you to test equipment in the lab later today.”

“Pope, could you actually stick around again for a bit? I’ve got some more intel I want to run through with you.” Ginger chimed in, and you were surprised he didn’t grimace at the idea of being locked in a room for hours again.

With that, the meeting was over, Champ’s holo image disappeared and they took their glasses off. Jack stood up and Frankie was quick to follow him, much to your intrigue. You stood up as well. You were eager to watch Jack have his way with the new agents. It was always fun. Whiskey seemed to know you would be following and beckoned for you to enter his office first, followed by Frankie, and Jack closed the door behind him.

“Go ahead and set your bag down wherever you’d like, Flyboy.”

Frankie dropped his bag in a corner then promptly started to rifle through it, pulling his shoes out and quickly swapping his dress shoes for them. He let out a sigh of relief as he rolled up on the balls of his feet and rocked back on his heels. He hated dress shoes.

You took a short minute to admire Frankie in the blue button down while he rolled up his sleeves. Jack’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you into him.

“Missed you, darlin’.”

Smiling, you took his face in your hands and tugged him down for a kiss.

“Missed you too, Jack.”

You murmured against his lips, and you resolved not to ask about last night. Whatever happened, Frankie must have reached out to Jack, not you or Santi, and you’d leave it at that. Jack hummed contentedly for a moment before he pulled back and winked at you.

“Are you coming to watch us break in the newbies, darlin’? I was thinking you and Flyboy could do the first demo.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but there was a playfulness in them as well.

“Us?” You questioned Jack with a raised eyebrow.

“First demo?” Came Frankie’s question as he whirled around to face you and Whiskey.

Jack’s smile broadened and he started out of his office and towards the elevator, expecting you and Frankie to follow.

“What are we demoing, Whiskey?”Frankie asked, more pointedly this time.

“Well, our newbies are scheduled to learn about disarms and what happens when the enemy goes for their gun. I thought it’d be good to have them start out seeing Bourbon disarm you.”

Frankie huffed as he crossed his arms and leaned against the elevator wall. You smiled as you leaned against the wall opposite Frankie.

“It’ll be just like old times, Fish.”

He groaned and shook his head.

“Why have me do the demo though? I’m not a Statesman agent.”

Before you could respond to reassure Frankie, Jack chimed in, eyeing him with nothing short of gleeful mischief. Jack enjoyed breaking the new agents in almost a little too much sometimes, but it was good for them, and he was good at it.

“No, you’re not, you’re ex-Delta Force, Frankie. These agents have had plenty of training, but they don’t have your experience, Flyboy. They’re gonna learn the difference today.”

Jack shared a similar philosophy with you when it came to combat training and sparring. You had been a terror in hand-to-hand, still were, you were proud to say. You knew there was often a size disadvantage, but you had learned to use your opponent’s momentum against them, and more importantly, you didn’t follow convention. In sparring matches, most people fought like they were sparring, which was fine for beginning, but there was a big difference between practicing and being in an actual fight. You never advocated for an all out brawl, but you refused to follow the typical learned pattern that people naturally gravitated towards. Tom had been predictable and a sore loser. Will was predictable but sweet. Benny, well, there was a reason he was semi-pro, which left Santi and Frankie. Santiago was fun, and you had lost your fair share of matches to both him and Benny. Frankie had a spark in his eyes when he sparred, but no matter how hard you had tried to get him to let go, he refused. It had nothing to do with anything silly like you being a woman, more to do with the fact that Frankie never seemed to just let himself go in that way. You had only seen him let go a bit twice, both times in the field and well worn down by the day.

The elevator dinging startled you out of your reverie, and you followed right behind Jack towards the training room. Frankie assumed they would be entering a gym of sorts, but he was sorely mistaken, and he realized the ‘floor’ they were on must have been composed of several. The ‘room’ was really more of a training complex housed in the unassuming tower. To the right, a group of 20 people stood, waiting. He gave them a cursory glance, and then his eyes were pulled to the range. He’d definitely have to visit to let off some stress. He followed as you and Whiskey led the way to the group of agents and hung back slightly as the group stood to attention.

“Well, look at this promising group of newbies, Bourbon. D’you think they’re up for today’s lesson?”

You let the smirk on your lips turn into a full crooked smile, you had more than a small idea as to what Jack was going to do. Looking over your shoulder, you caught Frankie’s eye and nodded for him to join you.

“I don’t know, Whiskey, simple concept, but we’ll see what their execution is like. My money is on our guy.”

The agents before you bristled, full of young pride that was well-earned. Whiskey’s hand clasped over Frankie’s shoulder as he introduced him to the new agents.

“Y’all are in for a treat. Our friend, Catfish, here, has generously volunteered to help train you on close quarters combat and disarms. Bourbon will demo the defense first. Catfish,” Whiskey took a pistol from the long table off to the side and handed it to Frankie. “Your objective is simple: shoot a blank at Bourbon.”

Frankie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his eyes sought yours to make sure you were comfortable. An answering smile was good enough for him, and he checked the pistol, confirming there were no live rounds, before looking back up at you. The two of you easily slid into a ready position, and Jack gestured for the new agents to give you some room.

“Halcón, when you go for the takedown, ten cuidado con mi espalda. Ya no soy joven.” [be careful with my back. I’m not young anymore.]

It only mildly annoyed you that he already knew you were going to go for the takedown, after priding yourself on your spontaneity earlier, but you pushed that out of your mind as you both stood a few steps apart. There would be a split second when Frankie pulled his pistol and took a readying step. That would be where you would have an opening and make your move. A tense handful of seconds that seemed to stretch on filled the air. Jack watched the new agents, the tension between you and Frankie seemed to embed itself in the junior agents’ lungs as they all waited with bated breath.

Nothing telegraphed Frankie’s quick movements as he drew his pistol, but on instinct, your body was moving. He saw your left hand fly out to redirect his momentum and push his gun hand away, quickly shifting to plant his weight, keeping you from landing the takedown this early. The training you and Frankie had received taught you to be efficient and end things quickly. That was easier said when you had spent years training together. The junior agents seemed to still be holding their breath while you traded blows. Your moment of opportunity came, and you took it. Frankie seemed to understand what was happening but his balance was off. You stepped into him, your hip bumping his as your hand came to grip over the top of his pistol. The next thing everyone knew, you were both on the ground, the gun skittering harmlessly away, and Frankie’s arm in an arm bar. He grunted and quickly tapped at your leg to surrender, and you let him go. The class was quiet until Whiskey broke the silence as you helped Frankie to his feet.

“I hope you lot were paying attention to Catfish here, he did a great job demonstrating what to do when facing a difficult opponent like Bourbon. For this exercise, the rest of you will attempt to take a shot at Catfish and he will disarm you by whatever means he deems necessary.”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, knowing Whiskey was being intentional with his wording.The laugh died quickly, however, at the words of one of the junior agents.

“How was that a good example? He lost, he was disarmed. We should be practicing against someone better, who would last longer.”

At your side, you saw Frankie stand up straighter, his feet moving shoulder width apart as his hands clasped behind his back and he fixed the younger agent with a steely gaze. Even as his breathing remained calm, it was obvious the words had gotten to him. Whiskey’s good natured grin turned into a smug smirk.

“Davis,” Whiskey began, calling the man out by his last name and emphasizing he hadn’t earned a Statesman moniker. “Since you’re so eager, by all means, approach Catfish when you’re ready and show us how your Statesman training fares.”

Frankie kept his gaze leveled at the cocky junior agent, noticing in his periphery that you had moved away to give them plenty of room. Davis moved to be a few steps in front of him. Frankie continued to hold the stare as he questioned Whiskey.

“Are you sure about this, Whiskey?”

Whiskey nodded, Frankie’s gaze flickering over to him for the briefest of seconds, then he brought his hands to a loose ready position at his sides. Davis drew his pistol, but Frankie grabbed the barrel with his left hand, stepped forward and hooked his right foot behind Davis’ lead leg and pushed on the agent’s chest with his right hand. Davis went down, but found himself suspended by Frankie’s hold on his shirt. The class was filled with littered gasps and snickers. The ‘fight’ was over before it had really begun. Frankie helped right the agent and stepped aside to let him retrieve his firearm.

“Attaboy, Catfish! Davis, looks like you’ve got some work to do. Here’s another lesson, agents: Statesman agents aren’t your only competition out there. We’ve got some fancy gear and trainin’ here, but there’s a world of intelligence agents and mercs out there. Catfish served with Bourbon, and that should tell you all you need to know.” He paused a moment to let the information sink in as Davis returned to the line to lick his wounds. Then Whiskey called the next agent.

Frankie breathed in, then out through his nose, and got ready. As they went, the junior agents in waiting began to pick up on a few of his techniques, and he had to adjust, but time spent practicing and training at Benny’s gym had prepared him well for this.

You watched as Jack’s eyes danced while he followed Frankie’s movements. The circumstances earlier had prevented him from truly appreciating how efficient and capable the quiet man was. The last of the junior agents had made their attempt and consequently failed. Frankie’s breath was coming more unevenly now, and rightly so. What he had gone through would be exhausting for anyone.

“Well done, everyone, a round of applause to Catfish for taking the time to demonstrate y’all have a lot to learn before getting approved for field work. Now go on and line up at the range and get warmed up. We’ll be running sims next.”

The junior agents dispersed to the range towards the back of the room. Frankie let out a breath and rolled his shoulders to let out some of the tension he had been carrying, then started heading for the range, eager to let off some more steam.

“Where do you think you’re going, partner?”

Frankie frowned, his eyes darting between you and Whiskey in confusion.

“I thought we were going to go shoot?”

Jack smiled then winked at Frankie.

“They’re warming up, you still have one more person to disarm, Flyboy.”

Frankie’s fingers twitched, and you could see that the exercise earlier had worn at his usual restraint.

“No lasso.”

Whiskey handed you his lasso, then unloaded his revolvers and passed you the ammo. He holstered his revolvers again and stepped into position in front of Frankie. You watched as a new kind of energy seemed to crackle between them, and some of the junior agents seemed to sense it, stopping to watch as well.

Whiskey was fast, but training at the boxing gym had helped Frankie with his speed. As Whiskey drew his revolver, Frankie sprung forward. He didn’t bother to grab the gun. Instead, he brought his fist down on the barrel, sending it skittering away. Whiskey’s fist connected with Frankie’s side, and you heard, rather than saw, Frankie’s reservations fall away with a snarl. He took hold of the inside of Jack’s blazer, grabbing the grip of the other revolver holstered there and made to pull it out and take the ‘shot’. Jack’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn’t expected Frankie to go on the offensive, but he found he was impressed. He liked a challenge. Before Frankie could draw the revolver from the holster, Jack grabbed his wrists and wrenched them down, then back up quickly to break Frankie’s hold, and then Jack threw them both to the ground. Both men recovered quickly, but in the chaos, the revolver had fallen to the ground and Frankie scrambled for it. Just as his fingertips touched cold metal, Whiskey’s whip flicked the revolver further away, and they closed the distance to grapple with each other again.

Your match with Frankie had been a well practiced dance, and this was too, in its own right. However, where yours had been fluid, Whiskey and Frankie were bordering on feral. For a moment, it appeared that Frankie had gotten the upper hand. Whiskey staggered backwards, about to fall, but as he went, he flicked his whip, the corded length wrapping around Frankie’s throat. He tugged, sending them both to the ground. Frankie grunted and struggled against the snare he was in. Whiskey wasted no time in scrambling up and pinning Frankie, his knee to the pilot’s back. Frankie continued to struggle until Whiskey leaned down so that only the other man could hear.

“Easy now, Tiger, save your strength for tonight. You did good.”

Frankie relaxed under Jack’s weight and nodded. Whiskey got off of him with a grunt and unwound the corded length of the whip from Frankie’s neck, then pressed a button on the handle to recall it. He helped Frankie up and dusted him off a bit.

A few of the junior agents were still watching in awe. It was rare to see a senior agent like you or Whiskey truly need to put some effort in, and to see it twice in one day was something else entirely. You walked over to the two men and put your hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“You did great, Fish, nice to see you let loose for once.”

He scoffed good naturedly and swooped to pick his hat up from off the ground.

“You guys had quite the audience while you were at it, too.” Your smile was barely contained as you raised an eyebrow at Jack.

This time it was Whiskey’s turn to scoff.

“Well, I hope they’ve been practicing. They’ll be running the sim after Frankie does.”

Whiskey patted Frankie on his shoulder then gestured for him to follow. He led him to an enclosed area that occupied the majority of the left side of the training complex. A small structure that looked like a house sat inside the enclosure, and you knew it was furnished to match whatever simulation scenario had been determined. Whiskey stopped at a table just outside of the enclosure and gestured to the rifle, combat knife, folder, and headset.

“Alright, Flyboy, I know you’ve done this sort of exercise before. Your brief is on the table there. Good luck.”

You and Whiskey walked a bit further along the enclosure to two screens. One cycled through a variety of camera angles while the other would connect to the headset once Frankie turned it on.

“You’re really having Frankie run the simulation?”

Whiskey nodded, “I didn’t have him help with the demo just to teach those newbies a lesson, darlin’. He’s been through hell, and I figured getting him to work through some of that in sparring and the sim would help. That, and, well… you can’t blame me for bein’ curious, Bourbon. Last time I got to see what he could do, we were a bit busy trying not to get shot.”

You can’t help but to chuckle and shake your head, your attention going back to Frankie as he geared up.

“Frankie turns into a different person on missions sometimes, used to scare the hell out of people on base who saw it. No one ever suspected it because he was always the quiet one, but he’s just as competitive as the rest of the guys on the team. He was just always scary good at keeping a level head and focusing on the mission. You’ll see.”

Frankie put on the kit provided for him then flipped through the brief before lowering the headset and advancing. The brief had been fairly simple: infiltrate the compound, rescue the target, and escort the target to the exfil location. They even provided a decent description of the target. The virtual course populated guards patrolling the 3 entrances. He opted for the path of least resistance with only 2 guards posted.

From the screen, you and Jack could see Frankie take a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing even as he crept towards the two guards. You knew it was because he was willing himself to let go, to let his instincts and muscle memory take over. He was lightning fast as his knife came out and he landed brutal and precise fatal blows to the targets on the screen. In a normal situation, he would hide the bodies but the miracle of technology meant he didn’t have to. It was beautiful in a devastating way to watch Frankie move with such confidence, stealth, and precision. He peered around a hallway, noting the sudden influx of guards and catching a glimpse of red at the end of the hall. The brief had indicated the target would be in red, and it made sense that there would be more guards to ensure the target didn’t run off. He counted five hostiles in the hallway.

Five guards, five bullets.

Once he had downed the hostiles, Frankie stepped through the hallway, catching a glimpse of the target and swore at how cliché the scenario was. The brief had just said the target had last been seen wearing red.

“¡Me están jodiendo! ¿En serio? ¿Una mujer en un vestido rojo?” [They’re fucking with me. Really? A woman in a red dress?]

You could both hear Frankie through the mic link in his headset, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It quickly died as you and Whiskey tensed. The woman in red was a decoy, one that statistically caught the majority of users by surprise.

“Ma’am, are you-” She moved just barely and he saw the glint of where a gun was holstered. Frankie didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he fired a shot to her chest and grumbled to himself before moving on. Normally, it wouldn’t have taken him that long to figure it out.

Whiskey whistled, thoroughly impressed. It wasn’t long after that Frankie found the real target and reached the ‘exfil location’.

“Damn, sweetheart, you sure picked a good one.”

He winked at you, and you grinned back as Frankie pulled off the headset and his kit, then walked over to you.

“Alright, agents! Catfish successfully completed the sim in 15 minutes, that’s your time to beat!”

A chorus of groans echoed in the training room. Whiskey ignored them and clapped Frankie on his shoulder.

“You did good, Flyboy, really set the bar high. Most people get caught up by the decoy.”

Frankie’s chest puffed out a little at the praise, but he was soon shaking his head. Before he could deflect the compliment, Whiskey squeezed his shoulder.

“Feeling hungry, Flyboy? Figured the three of us could grab a quick lunch before Cran steals Bourbon here away from us.”

“Yeah, I’m starving. Didn’t expect you to keep me busy like that.”

Vermouth entered the training room, and you waved him down.

“Hey, Vermouth! Watch the junior agents for us. Whiskey’s just got them running the sim. We’re going to go grab lunch!”

Without waiting for Vermouth’s answer, you grabbed Whiskey and Frankie’s hands, dragging them out of the training room and to the elevator.

“There’s a deli not far from the office we can walk to, and it’s late enough that we should miss the rush.”

Walking arm in arm with both of your boys, you could think of very few things better than right now. You didn’t care that you were in the middle of downtown New York. All that mattered was Whiskey on your right, and Frankie on your left.

Frankie did his best to relax and not let his anxiety and internal struggles get the best of him. Whiskey’s words echoed in his mind: “When it comes to me and Bourbon, keep an open mind and try not to overthink it.” That was a lot easier said than done, but he was working on it.

You were right, the timing made it so that you had missed the lunch rush. You all ordered your food, Whiskey stepping in to pay with a look that silenced both you and Frankie, then you all went to sit down.

Whiskey practically sprawled in his chair, his legs encroaching your space under the table and Frankie’s space next to him. Frankie sat somewhat stiffly but the more he ate, the more he seemed to relax. You nudge his foot with yours playfully to grab his attention.

“How’s your back? Mr. Ya-no-soy-joven.”

The three of you laughed, and Frankie shook his head with a wide grin on his face.

“I’m not! Gotta leave that shit for the young guys who think they’re invincible.”

“Young guys like Davis?” You shot back, smug on Frankie’s behalf.

“Cocky kid had it coming.”

There was no anger in Frankie’s eyes, only the slightest lilt of mirth in his voice as his gaze met yours, then Whiskey’s. Whiskey leaned forward and barked a laugh while patting Frankie on the back.

“He sure did. The lot of them were in need of a reality check. That’s why Champ specifically likes to have me or Bourbon take at least one pass at our junior agents. After all those hours spent training, they tend to forget that there are much bigger fish out there.”

Conversation flowed easily between them for the rest of their lunch. It reminded Frankie of the prior morning, when they were enjoying breakfast and everything just felt right. It felt as if all of the pieces of the puzzle were coming together, and this time, this time, it didn’t feel fleeting.

Walking to the office was much more comfortable than the walk to the deli had been. You noticed that Frankie was far less stiff under your touch on his arm, even leaning into you occasionally. You parted ways in the elevator. You were heading to the lab to play guinea pig for Cranberry, and your boys were headed upstairs to Whiskey’s office. Frankie seemed hesitant to let you go, and you did your best not to spook him, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Given everything that had happened, things needed to be almost wholly in Frankie’s court, at least until he was more comfortable around you. You had certainly noticed, however, how easily Frankie and Whiskey seemed to allow each other into their respective spaces. The elevator doors closed behind you as you strode down the hall. You were glad that they were comfortable together, though. It had definitely been a concern of yours, considering their respective pasts, but you also thought that there was the potential for them to relate and understand each other better than most.

The rest of the day passed by slowly, and as directed, Frankie remained Jack’s shadow. Jack did his best to keep from laughing when 5pm rolled around and Frankie began to subconsciously bounce his knee. He was scrolling on his phone, lower lip pulled between his teeth and brow furrowed as he tried to focus on whatever was on the screen.

You knocked on Jack’s open office door, raising an eyebrow when you saw Frankie startle at the sound. He wasn’t usually this jumpy. Jack’s gaze met yours, and you could see the amusement and mischief that bubbled in his eyes.

“Hey there, darlin’, you getting ready to head out for the night?”

“Just about, wanted to come see my boys before I do.”

Frankie’s knee stopped bouncing at your words, his phone falling into his lap as he looked up at you. You motion for him to scoot over a bit as you sit down on the couch next to him and rest your chin on your hand.

“We’re still on for dinner tomorrow, right?”

You posed the question to the room in general, even though the three of you knew that it was really directed towards Frankie.

“Uh yeah, I’m-I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow,” Frankie says after clearing his throat and gives you both a shy smile. Leaning over, you take his large hand in your own and give it a squeeze.

“Great!” Standing up from the couch, you smooth your clothes, give Frankie a kiss on his cheek, and then kiss Jack. “I’ll find us a place, and we’ll figure it out more tomorrow. Night, Frankie. Night, Jack.”

A minute later, you’re gone, and suddenly there’s nothing keeping Frankie’s mind off of the time, which is painfully close to 6pm, when Jack said he’d be done with work. The moment the clock turned that final, eternal minute, Frankie sat up straight, attentive, and alert as his eyes watched Whiskey.

Jack leaned back in his chair, stretching, then relocated next to Frankie on the couch.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything tonight, Flyboy. If you feel like you’re not up for it, we’ll just grab dinner and head home.”

Frankie shook his head and took a steadying breath.

“No, I want this. I-I could really use it, Jack.”

Whiskey nodded, eyes wandering over Frankie as he adjusted on the couch.

“Alright, I use the green, yellow, red system. You need me to stop for whatever reason, call red, and that’s it, no questions, no hard feelings or fuss. I’ll get you cleaned up and help you come down. Sound good?”

Frankie nodded, his tongue suddenly thick and his mouth dry in anticipation. Jack tutted.

“I need you to use your words, Flyboy.”

Frankie swallowed, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“I understand, s-sounds good.”

“Good. Now…” Jack pulled a small pad of stationary paper and a pen from the side table. “I want you to write out what you’re ok with and any hard or soft limits you have.”

Frankie nodded, then took the pen and paper and began writing.

[click for better quality]

A blush took hold of Frankie as he handed it back.

“It’s what I can come up with off the top of my head, for tonight at least. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up though.”

Jack’s eyes were dark as he perused the list, looking up from the paper to Frankie, he stood up with a smile.

“C’mon Flyboy… we’re gonna have some fun tonight.”

Thank you for reading! Reblogs & comments are much appreciated!

If you want to be added to my taglist just head on over here. If your blog is crossed out, it wouldn’t let me tag you, sorry!

Taglist: @danniburgh @pascalslittlebrat @yespolkadotkitty @mothandpidgeon @mouthymandalorianalso @phoenixhalliwell @itsme-aj467 @kesskirata @rosiefridayrogersunday-reads @driedgreentomatoes @pintsizemama @neganwifey25-blog @wheresarizona @absurdthirst @sarahjkl82-blog @duchesschameleon @sherala007 @beautyagegoodnesssize @all-hallows-evie @a-bang-for-your-bucky @starlightmornings @frankiecatfish @pascalsimp @beesting77 @janelongxox @mandocrasis @boxdyeblonde @lackofhonor @kaybrownies @agentwhiskeypussyindulgence @elegantduckturtle @darnitdraco @empress-palpat1ne @janebby @wyn-dixie

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back | Nathan Bateman | Ex Machina

Summary: You and Nathan hit it off at a tech expo. One thing leads to another and the two of you pull a stunt, claiming you’re married. Things get out of hand, and you end up going to stay with Nathan at his home to avoid people trying to harass you about Nathan’s work. The time you spend together will allow for a real relationship to bloom. [Swearing] [Fake Marriage Trope] [Soft!Nathan] [F!ReaderxNathan]

Word Count: 3.3k

|Masterlist In Bio|

One day you realize Kyoko is missing. You're not sure when she stopped appearing, in fact you can't remember the last time you actually saw her. Last week? No. A month ago? Wait,have you been here that long? Time seems to have lapsed here in the facility with Nathan. You worried about this when you arrived. Or maybe when you took the job. Was it really a job? Everything is a little fuzzy in terms of what you are. An assistant one might think, a housekeeper perhaps? No. You took the job as Nathan Bateman's wife. Yes. Job....well...sort of. Let’s go back to the beginning shall we?

Three months ago you met Nathan at the biggest tech expo in Las Vegas. You weren't exactly there for the inventions and hottest tech on the market. You were a handler, an escort of sorts for the creators and investors from companies attending. Your job was simple. Make things as smooth as possible while the people with disgusting amounts of money make big decisions. It was a great gig. It paid incredibly well for being temporary. But Nathan didn't think it suited you.

The second he laid eyes on you it was all over. You had been nervous for days after learning you were assigned to Nathan Bateman for Thursday, Friday and Saturday of the expo. The Nathan Bateman, creator of Blue Book and the AI Project. You may not be a tech genius or even understand most of the things on display at the expo, but you would have to be living under a rock not to know who this man is and what he has done. He is illusive, handsome, sought after by many people the world over. Nathan is the definition of a sugar daddy if you ever did see one. Notoriously single, generous with his money, beyond genius intellect. He is the whole package.

One thing lead to another after you met Nathan at the expo and before you knew it he had your collar bones a mess with hickies and you were dressed in his sweater to attempt to cover them up. It hadn’t taken long before he was all over you, hands in your hair, on your butt, lips on your neck. You and Nathan had just sparked the moment you got close and you let that fire burn as hot as it could.

Of course all things in life have consequences, good or bad, and as you were leaving the rest area for creators, where the little hands on session had gone down, some press junkie saw you together. Photos were taken. Nathan had not been seen with anyone privately in years. He was never seen with a woman, let alone a woman wearing his sweater and looking a proper mess. It was a scandal to be had.

By the end of Friday Nathan was introducing you as his wife, a plan he had come up with on the fly. He had even procured a huge diamond ring for you too. Somehow you were playing along with all of this. Nathan offered to pay you, just for the appearance because it would be good for the company that he was seen as a man like any other, nothing more needed to come of your relations. It was fine. You were getting paid more than you could hope to make in your lifetime and getting to hang out with Nathan Bateman who you actually clicked with and liked to be around. Win win. You had it made. In less than 24 hours you were to be done with all of this and have cash in pocket to do whatever you wanted with.

Until.

A week after you had your crazy weekend with Nathan you were being followed. People kept showing up at your part time job in the travel agency downtown. They asked questions about Nathan, about his work. You didn't know anything. You were half tempted to tell everyone it was fake, that he never even properly kissed you, but Nathan paid you to be quiet, to play along. You signed his NDA. After a man followed you home from work and watched your apartment for two days, that's when you decided to reach out to Nathan. You could call the police and have the man removed, but there would just be others. This wasn’t a matter for the police, it was a matter for Nathan to handle.

Reaching a man like Nathan wasn't easy. He had left you a business card. A number that went to Blue Book human resources. It wasn't a way of contacting him directly, but it was. On the card was scribbled a word. "REQUIEM" You called the number and listened to the prompts. None reached an operator or customer service line. It seemed that no matter what you did it sent you to an automated system. Eventually you got so annoyed you just said the word requiem as if it were a prompt. Sure enough the phone started ringing, connecting to a line.

"Hello?"

"Nathan?"

"How did you get this number?"

"You gave it to me. At the expo." You tell him that it's you and he sighs heavily in relief. "I need your help."

"My help? With what?"

"I'm being harassed because of the expo." Your voice trembles and you realize how much of a toll this is taking on you. "People have followed me to my home."

"Fuck. Can you get to an airport first thing in the morning?"

"Yes."

"Perfect, give me your email. I'll send you everything you need to get away. Pack your bags for a few months. I'll bring you to my facility as a guest until this blows over or we decide what to do next. It's the least I could do."

And that's how you ended up in his home in the middle of nowhere Alaska for the last month and a half. Your whole world uprooted because you decided that a few hundred thousand dollars was worth playing fake wife to the country's richest and most sought after man for two nights. It was so stupid at hindesight, but here you are actually the happiest you've ever been and connecting with Nathan on a deeper level than you thought possible. The two of you just understand each other, it's as if you're two sides to one coin.

______________________

"So, where is Kyoko?"

Nathan looks over from his desk, peering at you over his glasses. You're leaning against the door frame in a nightgown you know he likes. "She's in storage."

"Why?"

"Because I decommissioned her." He turns his attention back to the computer and begins typing.

You step in and he lets out a little warning hum. You know better than to bother him while he's toiling away on code. Being here for this long has been a learning experience with his reclusiveness, but also a lesson on reading his moods. He's not irritated, yet. "Why did you do that?"

"Kitten, you are distracting me."

Kitten. The nickname he picked out day one. Who gives a guest a nickname?

"I'm curious."

"I'm working. You know the rules."

You lean against the desk and he flicks his gaze to you for a moment as your nightgown rides up your thighs. His rules were simple. Don’t bother him while he works, no kissing, no sex. Really you thought the rules were ridiculous. You were meant to be a guest, hiding while the world forgets about your fake relationship. But things don’t go as planned do they? The two of you have been pushing the boundaries of entering a relationship, though it has never been discussed.

"We haven't talked in days."

Nathan sighs irritably. "I am on to something that could be the greatest breakthrough in AI history." He pushes his chair back and pats his lap. "Come sit."

You do as told and plop down onto his lap.

"Now, if I promise to go to bed in two hours will you stop asking questions?" He runs a hand up your back, fingertips dancing against your skin delicately and making you shiver.

"That's a long time. It's already late."

"My patience is wearing thin."

"Alright deal."

"Good girl." He swats your butt gently and you slide off his lap. "Go make that bed nice and warm for me."

You take one last look back and he's already returned to typing. "One more thing."

"Nope. Get out."

"But-"

"Out, Kitten."

"Nathan, come on."

He stops typing and even in the dim light you can tell he is tense and irritated. This is the time to stop pushing his rules. "Go, or I won't be nice."

You cross the room quickly to kiss his cheek and then hurry from the room. You know he is probably going to do something to get back at you for disrupting him amid a coding session. But that's fine. You like seeing him break his own rules just for you.

__________________

Nathan comes to bed some time late in the night. You just recently began sleeping in his room, it’s what really started to blur the lines of what you were to each other. He had invited you to sleep with him after you found that your brain seemed to wander when you were alone in your cold windowless room in the inner workings of the complex and sleep never came easy. Nathan's room is upstairs, with a view out to the forest should you wish to set the windows to day mode. His bed is huge, elevated on a platform, covered in blankets and plush pillows. One may think Nathan's bed would be neat and clean like the rest of the house but no. It's like a nest of comfort, a bog of pillows that you could get lost in.

"Hey, I can tell you're awake."

"Just woke up."

"Everything is okay, you can sleep."

You arch back against him, butt pressed into his legs. "I still wanna know about Kyoko."

"Don't worry about it."

You yawn and he wraps arm arm around your chest. "It's weird. You said she was fine."

"Hush." He kisses your ear. "Sleep."

You fall silent, stewing in your thoughts. What purpose could he have for decommissioning Kyoko? She seemed fine. He said she had been working for years seamlessly. It just didn't make sense.

_____________________

Morning comes and the bed is empty. Nothing new. You wonder what it would be like to wake up to a sleepy eyed Nathan. Bet he'd look so cute. He's so hot without his glasses on. Well, he is hot with them on too but there is just something different about it you can’t describe.

"You wanna go for a walk?"

You look to the doorway and Nathan has his cargo pants and a jacket on. "I'm not awake yet."

"Suit yourself sweetheart. Call if you need me."

"Yep."

You throw your arm over your face. Your dream is coming back to you. It makes you shiver. You had been riding Nathan, hips rolling down into him desperately, his cock filling you so full. God you couldn't wait to do everything with him, if you ever do. You haven't even kissed yet. Even at the expo, he kept his mouth away froms yours, letting his lips travel elsewhere.

Nathan made his rules very clear at the expo and again when you arrived at the facility. No sex. No kissing. You suppose it has to do with attachments for him. You're just supposed to be staying with him until everything settles down around your fake marriage stunt. It's not supposed to be a real thing, but like you mentioned, everything has become blurry and unclear around your relationship with each other. Of course you both know that you have feelings for each other. Head kisses, throat, shoulder and back kisses are now allowed. Bed sharing is allowed. Cuddling. Snuggling. Talking and sharing memories is allowed. You think it's a matter of time before one of you fucks up and throws caution to the wind. What kind of host shares their bed with their guest? What are you doing here?

You crawl out of bed and grab some sweatpants on the floor along with a hoodie. If you hurry you can catch up with Nathan on the trail. Assuming he took the trail.  

The air is crisp, a typical fall morning for Alaska. It's beautiful, so clean, so easy to breathe. Nothing like back home. You jog along the trail that leads away from the back porch and sure enough you find Nathan walking with his hands in his pockets.

"Hey! Wait up!"

Nathan turns and stops, smiling softly at you. "Thought you were too tired."

"I changed my mind."

"Uh huh." He plucks at your hoodie. "This is mine."

"Yeah I just grabbed something in a hurry." You stuff your hands in the front pocket.

He runs a hand through your hair, fingertips lingering along the ends. "I like it on you."

"Thanks? It's just a hoodie."

Nathan pulls his gloves from his pocket and passes them to you. "Take these. I don't need you to lose a finger to the cold."

"You won't make me a cool robot one if I do?"

He pulls the gloves back teasingly. "Mmm, on second thought let's see if I can actually do that."

"No!" You giggle and he allows you to take them.

The two of you walk along in silence just enjoying the outdoors and everything it has to offer. Eventually you end up at the bottom of a waterfall. It's loud, beautiful, almost icy when you touch the water at the edge where it pools.  

"Do you want to know why I decommissioned Kyoko?" His sudden choice of topic startles you but it’s nothing new. He was always jumping on subjects randomly.

"Yes."

"Because of you."

"What?" You turn away from the water and walk to where he's leaning against a tree. "What did I do?"

"You took her place."

"What? She was your housekeeper and like an assistant or whatever. I'm neither, I'm just a house guest aren't I?"

“Just a house guest...” Nathan chuckles. "Kyoko was everything for me while I was here alone. A friend, a helper, my lover."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "She could fuck?"

"Of course she could fuck." He waves his hand dismissively. "When I say you took her place I mean in my life. I felt that she was unfair to you, that once you moved into my bed she didn't belong anymore. Kyoko is a great distraction but she isn't human, she doesn't think for herself, or feel for me. She doesn't connect like you and I do. It felt wrong to have her keep me company when you are here."

"But when I leave you'll bring her back out."

"No." He purses his lips and looks down. "Actually I wanted to ask you about that."

"Leaving? Have I overstayed my welcome?"

"Quite the opposite actually."

"The opposite? I haven't stayed long enough?"

Nathan pulls his hands from his pockets and gestures for you to come closer. You do as he asks and he cradles your face. "If you're interested, I'd like to actually start a relationship with you."

"Does that mean we can stop dancing around the edges of whatever this is between us? Because I don't think house guests normally sleep in their host's bed, or wear his clothes, or get neck kisses and give shoulder massages."

He smiles and licks his lips. "I wanted to see how far we could go until one of us broke down and drew a line."

"Nathan, I think we probably would have started showering together next if you hadn't said something by now." You laugh softly. "But yeah, I wanna see where this goes."

"So you'll stay with me a little longer?"

"As long as you'll have me."

"Don't say that." He puts his hands on your hips. "I might keep you forever. Might make you my wife for real."

"I'm not doing much for the rest of my life, so why not?"

Nathan laughs and it makes your heart swell. He rarely does so, it's such a treat to hear. "Never thought I'd meet someone I connect with so completely. Really I didn't think I'd ever meet anyone."

"Why not?"

"I'm not exactly social as you can tell by my living situation. But also I didn't think I deserved someone. Like I deserved to be alone, and be the way I am because I was gifted with such talent. I sort of accepted that it was a trade off for my intellect."

You lay your hand on his chest and his heart is pounding. "No one deserves to be alone. No one."

He smiles weakly. "When you called that day, saying you needed help because of the stunt we pulled, I knew it was you. I knew you were my chance at love in this life. There was no way I was going to let you slip through my fingers a second time."

"Second time?"

"I didn't want to leave you at the expo. I wanted to bring you home with me, I wanted to show you everything. But I knew I pushed it already with the wife stunt, and I knew you had a life and I couldn't be so selfish as to take you away from everything while chasing a high I got."

You smile softly and kiss his cheek. "I probably would have gone with you. That was the best weekend of my life and I didn't want it to end."

"I'm glad you let me play with you in that rest area and we got caught. If we hadn't I don't think we would be here right now."

"Don't make it sound so dirty."

"It was a little dirty." He kisses your cheek. "Hot too. You were so ready to just let me do whatever."

"Nathan!" You giggle and he presses his lips to yours. The sensation takes your breath away.

He cradles your face and slides a hand into your hair. He licks into your mouth and you let out a soft whimper. You grip his jacket and he turns you around so your back is against the tree. "Thought this would go a little differently."

"Yeah? How so?"

He presses another kiss to your lips. "Thought we'd be in the house, maybe curled up by the fire or in bed."

"Nathan Bateman a romantic? I'm shocked."

"I live to shock people." He chuckles. "I shocked my investors and my agent with our little marriage announcement."

"You didn't tell anyone it was fake? Not even your agent?"

"Not yet." He grins. "I like to make him sweat a little."

"You're mean."

"Sometimes."

"Well now we've established that this is happening, why don't we head back to the house? Are you free today?"

Nathan takes your hand in his and steps away from the tree. "I'm free every day."

"No you're not."

"I'm free every day you want me from now on." He threads your fingers together. "I promise."

"That's a big promise to make."

"I'll keep it." He brings your hand up and kisses it. "I'm a man of my word, you know that."

"Yes you are."

"Come on, I'm tired of waiting." He pulls you along the path and you walk quickly to keep his pace. "The last month and half have been torture."

You get ahead of him and pull your hand out of his. He raises an eyebrow. He knows what you're thinking. He knows you're going to run for the house and make him chase you.

"Don't you do it."

"Too late." You take off and he follows in hot pursuit. "You gotta catch me if you wanna keep me!"

His arm encircles your waist the moment you reach the porch and he tumbles you both down onto the sun warmed smooth wood. He rolls you under him and pins you by your arms. "You're mine now."

"I guess I am." You smile big and he captures your lips with his once more. “I wouldn’t be anyone else's.”

End .

-----------

Header by delicate-venus

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you read or enjoyed and support content creators like myself - A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

More movies (and a tv series) on youtube to keep you busy

List 1 / List 2

Here’s a third update of movies that you can watch in full on youtube since you’re stuck inside

Documentaries about movies:

Visions of Light: The Art of Cinematography (1992): Featuring interviews with more than two dozen major cinematographers and a ton of clips, this is a useful and enjoyable primer for anyone interested in learning what a DoP does

Vittorio Storaro: Writing With Light (1992): This is a shorter (40 minute) television doc focusing on one specific cinematographer, Vittorio Storaro, famed for his collaborations with Bertolucci and for shooting Hollywood movies like Apocalypse Now and Reds

The Epic That Never Was (1965): In 1937, Josef Von Sternberg started shooting an adaptation of I, Claudius starring Charles Laughton as Claudius. Dirk Boagarde hosts this lively documentary examining why the film was never completed, featuring the surviving footage from the 1937 shoot. 

Hollywood: A Celebration of the American Silent Film (1980): Kevin Brownlow and David Gill’s 13-episode miniseries about the silent film era is considered the gold standard for documentaries about film history, but the impossibility of negotiating the rights to all the clips used at a reasonable price has kept it off of dvd or blu-ray. Luckily, that didn’t stop someone from putting it on youtube, although episode 12 has in fact been blocked due to a copyright claim.

Buster Keaton: A Hard Act To Follow (1987) Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3: Another Kevin Brownlow and David Gill miniseries, this one, as you’ve probably guessed, covers the life and films of Buster Keaton over three episodes.

More movies:

Powell/Pressburger: Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, aka the Archers, were one of the greatest writer/director teams in film history (and a favorite of Scorsese, who seemingly made it his life’s mission to ensure that their films were restored and available), and three of their incredibly charming, magical movies are on youtube. Of the available ones, I Know Where I’m Going! is probably the best to start with.

I Know Where I’m Going! (1945): Dave Kehr on the film:  “Michael Powell's 1945 film resists easy classification: it opens as a screwball comedy, grows into a mystical, Flaherty-like study of man against the elements, and concludes as a warm romance. Wendy Hiller, in one of the best roles the movies gave her, is a toughened, materialistic young woman on her way to meet her millionaire fiance in the Hebrides; Roger Livesey is the young man she meets when a storm blows up and prevents her crossing to the islands. Funny and stirring, in quite unpredictable ways, with the usual Powellian flair for drawing the universal out of the screamingly eccentric.”

A Canterbury Tale (1944):  The Criterion jacket copy: “Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger’s beloved classic A Canterbury Tale is a profoundly personal journey to Powell’s bucolic birthplace of Kent, England. Set amid the tumult of the Second World War, yet with a rhythm as delicate as a lullaby, the film follows three modern-day incarnations of Chaucer’s pilgrims—a melancholy “landgirl,” a plainspoken American GI, and a resourceful British sergeant—who are waylaid in the English countryside en route to the mythical town and forced to solve a bizarre village crime. Building to a majestic climax that ranks as one of the filmmaking duo’s finest achievements, the dazzling A Canterbury Tale has acquired a following of devotees passionate enough to qualify as pilgrims themselves.”

Gone To Earth (1950): Made under unhappy circumstances (David O. Selznick producing), this is a gorgeous technicolor romance starring Jennifer Jones as a nature loving young woman forced into a choice between two “civilized” men, with tragic results.

Straub/Huillet: If you’re looking for something easy and relaxing to watch during the quarantine, I’d recommend literally anything else other than the films of Jean-Marie Straub and Danièle Huillet. J. Hoberman on the couple: “Straub-Huillet, as they preferred to be called, are cinema’s conscience — an antidote to all the junk movies you’ve ever seen. Drawing on Kafka, Cézanne, Brecht, Schoenberg and Malraux, to name only some of their best-known sources, Straub-Huillet films are meant to raise ethical questions on subjects as varied as proper camera placement and the appropriate political approach to the subject.“We make our films so that audiences can walk out of them,” Mr. Straub once said, perhaps not altogether in jest.” Of the available ones, Class Relations, their adaptation of Kafka’s unfinished novel Amerika, seems to be agreed upon as the easiest place to start as it’s the closest to a straightforward narrative, although History Lessons has also been recommended as a relatively easy starting place by some people. Not Reconciled, which compresses an epic Heinrich Boll novel following three generations throughout multiple timelines into 52-minutes, is not recommended to start with. MUBI did a retrospective of their works and had essays commissioned for each one to help viewers out so I’ll link those with each film. Hit Closed Captions for subtitles.

Not Reconciled (1965): Here’s a 10-minute video essay by critic Richard Brody that will help you have a slightly easier time with Not Reconciled if you decide to give it a try. Here’s the MUBI essay

Othon (1970): In the 17th century Pierre Corneille wrote Othon, set in ancient Rome. Straub-Huillet’s adaptation is shot in the actual ruins of Roman palaces with modern buildings and cars visible in the background. The MUBI essay

History Lessons (1972): An adaptation of Bertolt Brecht’s The Business Affairs of Julius Caesar. From the MUBI essay: “In the film, an unnamed young man tours Rome and conducts interviews with toga-clad members of ancient Roman society on the subject of “C,” meaning of course Julius Caesar. It plays like Citizen Kane shorn of any of the flashbacks that bulk out that film: here, it is all exposition, reminisces, impressions. Interspersed through these sedentary discussions are a series of randomly protracted car rides through the city, all recorded in unbroken takes from the backseat of the young man’s Fiat 500.From this brief description alone, I’m sure you can see why structuralist-minded academics in the seventies had a field day.“

Fortini/Canti (1976): From the MUBI essay: “In Fortini/Canti, the Italian Communist writer Franco Fortini reads aloud from his Dogs of the Sinai (only recently translated into English for the first time), a memoir of his life as an Italian Jew and an extended reflection on the aftermath of the Third Arab–Israeli War of 1967 and its representation in the Italian media and by the political class. [...]  Like all of Straub-Huillet’s movies, this astonishingly combative film follows an internal rhythm born out of the particulars of landscape, of speech, and of the physiognomies of its actors. It begins with an extended recording of a television newscast about Israel/Palestine (thus distancing the audience from the warped words and images on screen), a quotation from Fortini that connects like a punch in the jaw (“People don’t like having to change their minds. When they have to, they do so in secret. The certainty of having been tricked turns into cynicism. Gain for the cause of conservatism”), and then alternates between short jabs like these and more sustained verbal and visual attacks.”  

Too Early/Too Late (1982): Serge Daney on the film: “No actors, not even characters. If there is an actor in TOO EARLY, TOO LATE, it’s the landscape. This actor has a text to recite: History, of which it is the living witness. The actor performs with a certain amount of talent: the cloud that passes, a breaking loose of birds, a break in the clouds; this is what the landscape’s performance consists of. This kind of performing is meteorological. One hasn’t seen anything like it for quite some time. Since the silent period, to be precise.” The MUBI essay

Class Relations (1984): The aforementioned adaptation of Kafka’s Amerika, often recommended as a place to start with Straub/Huillet. The MUBI essay

Hitchcock: Back to fun stuff, three Hitchcock classics.

The 39 Steps (1935): Dave Kehr: “As an artist, Alfred Hitchcock surpassed this early achievement many times in his career, but for sheer entertainment value it still stands in the forefront of his work.“

Shadow of a Doubt (1943): Kehr again: “Alfred Hitchcock’s first indisputable masterpiece. . . . Hitchcock’s discovery of darkness within the heart of small-town America remains one of his most harrowing films, a peek behind the facade of security that reveals loneliness, despair, and death. Thornton Wilder collaborated on the script; it’s Our Town turned inside out.“

Spellbound (1945): No one would argue it’s Hitchcock’s best and the psychoanalysis is very dated but with Gregory Peck, Ingrid Bergman, and Dali-designed dream sequences there’s still enjoyment to be had.

Ozu: One of Japan’s most beloved and revered filmmakers, he’s primarily known for his post-WWII family dramas, but his career stretched back to the silent era (although most of his silent films are lost). I Was Born But... is a good place to start but it’s not representative of the style he’s known for. Late Spring is where his later style fully emerges, and it’s a good place to start, so you might want to go in chronological order with these (Tokyo Story, widely considered one of the greatest films of all time, is also not a bad place to start).

I Was Born But... (1932): Jonathan Rosenbaum on the film: “One of Yasujiro Ozu's most sublime films, this late Japanese silent describes the tragicomic disillusionment of two middle-class boys who see their father demean himself by groveling in front of his employer; it starts off as a hilarious comedy and gradually becomes darker. Ozu's understanding of his characters and their social milieu is so profound and his visual style—which was much less austere and more obviously expressive during his silent period—so compelling that the film carries one along more dynamically than many of the director's sound classics. Though regarded in Japan mainly as a conservative director, Ozu was a trenchant social critic throughout his career, and the devastating understanding of social context that he shows here is full of radical implications.“

The Only Son (1936): Criterion’s jacket copy:  “Yasujiro Ozu’s first talkie, the uncommonly poignant The Only Son is among the Japanese director’s greatest works. In its simple story about a good-natured mother who gives up everything to ensure her son’s education and future, Ozu touches on universal themes of sacrifice, family, love, and disappointment. Spanning many years, The Only Son is a family portrait in miniature, shot and edited with its maker’s customary exquisite control.”

Late Spring (1949): Ignatiy Vishnevetsky: “Each shot in Late Spring is striking on its own; the mature Ozu belongs to that rare category of filmmakers whose work can be recognized from a single frame. But together—with all their abrupt shifts in visual perspective and time—they become a mosaic, deeply poignant and ultimately mysterious in the way it envisions a relationship between two people trapped by how much they care for one another. There are domestic dramas, and then there’s this.“

Tokyo Story (1953): Dave Kehr: “The film that introduced Yasujiro Ozu, one of Japan's greatest filmmakers, to American audiences (1953). The camera remains stationary throughout this delicate study of conflicting generations in a modern Japanese family, save for one heartbreaking moment when Ozu tracks around a corner to discover the grandparents, alone and forgotten. A masterpiece, minimalist cinema at its finest and most complex.“

Early Spring (1956): Ozu on the film: “I wanted to portray the life of a white-collar man — his happiness over graduating and becoming a member of society. His hopes for the future when he got his job have gradually dissolved and he realizes that, even though he has worked for years, he has accomplished nothing worth talking about. By delineating his life over a period of time, I wanted to portray what you might call the pathos of the white-collar life...I tried to avoid anything that would be dramatic and to accumulate only casual scenes of everyday life in hopes that the audience would feel the sadness of that kind of life” 

Equinox Flower (1958): Vincent Canby: “One of Ozu's least dark comedies, which is not to say that it's carefree, but, rather, that it's gentle and amused in the way that it acknowledges time's passage, the changing of values and the adjustments that must be made between generations.“

Late Autumn (1960): Peter Bradshaw: “Another gem from the Ozu canon, a masterpiece of tendernesss and serio-comic charm, as tonally ambiguous and morally complex as anything he ever made.“

And the tv series:

The Armando Iannucci Shows: You may know Armando Iannucci from his films, In The Loop and The Death of Stalin, or from some of his other television shows like The Thick of It or Veep, or from his involvement in all the Alan Partridge series with Steve Coogan. You probably missed The Armando Iannucci shows, his stream of consciousness sketch comedy that ran for one season back in 2001 (it didn’t help that it debuted in September of 2001), but it’s probably the most purely funny thing he’s ever done. 

Part two of the college apps series~ Also it was pretty hard to imagine Port Mafia members in these scenarios guys :’)

How BSD characters would help their S/O through college apps (Part 2) [Port Mafia]

[Chuuya]

- Chuuya didn’t know what to do or how to react when he saw you breaking down in front of your computer. He tried to calm you down, but it just made the situation worse and he had to leave you alone for a few moments before he dared approach you again. 

- He doesn’t know too much about the university system because he didn’t have a chance to go through it when he was younger, but he was determined to help you through it, so he did some quick research and realised that you could rack up qualifications through taking extra classes, or the fact that someone could get through university applications through taking tuition. 

- So he decided to sign you up for those because there is no way he would let his resources go to waste. Chuuya did sit you down and tell you his plans, making sure you agreed before going ahead with them. 

- After leaving you in the hands of the experts, Chuuya takes over the part of relieving your stress and spoils you rotten. While he doesn’t get you everything you demand for, he takes you out on fancy dates every week, such as a romantic dinner or a really fashionable cafe; small things that allow you much needed relaxation but still ensure you have time left to tackle your applications. 

[Akutagawa] 

- Akutagawa is one who doesn’t give a damn about university. However, when you break down in front of the computer, he froze and momentarily panicked. Why were you suddenly crying in front of a lit screen at 2am in the morning? Initially, he had thought to leave you to it because he doesn’t think he can do anything to stop the stream of tears, but at the end he decided to approach you. 

- Even if you explain it ten times over, this man won’t understand the problem. But one thing he understands it that it’s important to you, so he’ll help you (or be as helpful as he could) 

- He decided, unwillingly, to call in Higuchi, who practically fell over herself to offer assistance. At first she was a bit miffed to be helping you rather than her ‘senpai’, but she eventually got over it. The stuff she dug out were....amazingly detailed. They practically guided you through the process, making it so much easier. 

- Whenever you start to feel down or unmotivated, Akutagawa is always there. And by ‘there’, I mean literally. Most of the time he doesn’t really do much, but you could always feel his presence nearby, which was comforting most of the time, but also gave you a boost whenever you feel like giving up. (due to the fear)

[Mori] 

- Oho, what are you doing? Applying to med school without his knowledge? That’s a no-no. Mori will come forth and personally offer his assistance. As in, subtly slide in and take matters into his own hands. 

- Regardless of his shady background, Mori does have a medical degree and he did go to med school. He had enough qualifications to be running an underground clinic after all; simple things like gearing you up for entrance tests were easy to him. 

- That said, he, like Fukuzawa, was of the older generation. All those details about applying to which college and which university baffles him, along with the different application processes and...reference letters? Does one from Port Mafia’s boss count? (No it doesn’t Mori please don’t) 

- Mori however, is a very helpful person at the end. While he may tend to wander around or tease you, ultimately it would be kind of impossible to get everything done without sticking to his schedule. It even leaves time for relaxation and private time. If you get over Elise’s constant arguing with him in your study, that is. 

[Kouyou]

- She takes no excuses and adopts a no-nonsense attitude. As de-facto mom of Port Mafia, she is used to taking care of others, as well as putting up with other people’s excuses or shit (cough cough, Chuuya and Mori). Therefore, while she may not be the nicest supervisor in the world, you can bet everything could be done in record time under her guidance. 

- That said, she’s often softer towards her partner. Instead of adopting her Mafia Mom persona, she tries to be more gentle and guides you around things. Though she couldn’t help you on the technical side of things, like how to maneuver the common app/UCAS website, she makes up for it by helping you on the practical side of things. 

- For example, she makes sure everything isn’t left until the last minute and that you plan things out to do each day. Kouyou knows how paperwork can be overwhelming, being one of the five executives, and while she couldn’t employ her personal secretary to help you, she does know how to ease your workload and make sure you don’t procrastinate so you could get everything done. 

- That said, Kouyou does subtly manipulate her connections to help you a bit. While it might not be something as outright as threatening the admissions officer, she might be able to schedule a lesson with one of the best university admissions counsellors in town, for example. Or alternatively, when you feel down and burnt out, she makes sure to bring you to one of the more lavish and expensive restaurants for a treat. 

[Higuchi] 

- As a respectable young lady, Higuchi of course have went to university. She probably did management science, but that’s beyond the point. What mattered was that she did go through the grueling process herself, and that it was probably a few years ago. 

- Higuchi would probably take an approach similar to Kouyou’s; while letting you iron out the technicalities, she’ll be on the practical side of things like taking care of your deadlines and health. With her constantly following up on Akutagawa’s work, she’s used to doing things like these. One thing Higuchi would be good at is reminding you about your deadlines. She keeps your deadlines tacked to a post-it on her desk, so she is constantly reminded of it and as a result became even more paranoid about you missing them. 

- However, because of her hectic schedule, it’s hard to do too much; for one, even though she’s dying to make a bento to cheer you up, work schedules make it impossible to do so. All she can do is takeout with some fancy wine, but then again it’s the thought that matters. 

- That said, she does work late nights and might even do overtime. With you following a night owl schedule as well, Higuchi would try to take some paperwork home to keep you company. Working into the late hours with a cup of coffee by her side is honestly the best way to combine a date and work. 

[Gin]

- Gin is very busy; not only does she have to participate in Port Mafia’s assassinations, she also has to put up with Tachihara and his personality. Even though she’s a very calm individual, she may get stressed and burnt out after work so again, she probably couldn’t help much. 

- That said, emotional and mental support is as important as practical help so that was what she is in charge of. Gin may not talk much during evenings after she’s off work, but she’ll sit next to you and accompany you through the grueling process of applying to college. Sometimes having someone next to you is reassuring enough in itself.

- I feel like Gin is the kind of girl that goes to cafes and gets herself a drink whenever she needs to relax or just wants something cute (especially when her job consists of so much bloodshed). It’s likely she’ll pick up your favourite cake or drink along the way if she does buy something, so you could have a sweet boost while working. 

- Assuming that the Akutagawa siblings live together, Gin would even play an active role in driving her older brother away whenever he tries to lurk. Especially when he lurks. Even if you two plant yourselves into her room or the study and safely out of his sight, he would still lurk. He’s her older brother, after all. 

[Tachihara]

- Tachihara is another one that doesn’t care about university. Who needs to go to higher education to join the mafia, anyways? It’s a total waste of his time. Plus, he doesn’t have the patience for stuff like this; his hotheadedness needs an outlet, and what better way to do so than fighting? 

- He gets annoyed whenever he goes to your place (Tachihara has a habit of showing up randomly) and you were just working away at your computer, even though it’s fricking summer. He whines about not being able to have your attention and is actually quite good at it. If you can’t get away from the computer, he’ll settle for annoying you until you do - which doesn’t take that long, to be honest. 

- Eventually you’ll have to put your foot down, because by his rate you’ll never get anything done. You’ll have to be resolutely firm about it though, because he can and will pick up on any hesitation and immediately try and steal your attention again. 

- However, Tachihara’s hotheadedness and competitiveness is a good way to relieve stress. If the work gets to you, you can bet he’ll be down for a match or two on whatever video game you guys were working on before. Alternatively, play wrestling might work as well. That is, if it doesn’t turn out to be something more ;) 

[Hirotsu]

- Another old veteran, Hirotsu honestly doesn’t remember much about university in his days. Likely he never even went, seeing as it was an immense privilege during his time. Besides, spending so many years in the Port Mafia would’ve dulled his interest in learning, if he even had any. 

- When and if you start stressing out about the possibility of not being able to go to college, Hirotsu would offer some hard-earned advice that comes with his age. He tells you that while college is important, failure is not the end of the world; there are other opportunities available. Heck, you could even join the mafia, if you wanted to. 

- While he might not look like it, Hirotsu does consider reading as one of his past times.While most of it is related to literature, if you prompt hard enough there may very well be a book mildly linked to whatever course you decided to take in university. 

- One pro tip, however, is not to let Hirotsu go into the near vicinity of where you are working, or if you want to spend time together, usher him to the balcony. Likely he’ll unconsciously take out a cigarette and start puffing away, and unless you’re well acquainted with the smell of cigarette smoke, it’ll be better for your mental state and physical health that you don’t inhale too much of it. 

[Kajii]

- Do not let this man be anywhere near you while you’re writing your essays. Seriously. Especially when he’s in the middle of one of his scientific ecstasies. Get him out of the house, imprison him in his underground lab, just steer clear of him because you would feel like tearing your hair out within three minutes.

- All jokes aside, if you manage to catch him at just the right moment, he could give you a pretty good debate on the principles of science and religion, if you’re interested in that or if it could help your application. He’s even a seasoned scientist (if he could even be called that), so you could...quote him? 

- One thing you could try out is to participate in his scientific experiments. No, not as a subject but as an assistant. If you managed to make his lemon bombs into bombs that are non-explosive, such as bath bombs or confetti bombs, that’ll be a mild breakthrough to boast of.

- That said, I can’t imagine him in any way helping his S/O in college. Just let him roam free and out of your way so you can have some peace. 

For young men (Part 1)

In my latest lockdown induced depressive episode I have been meeting some new people online. They are all young, male, mostly heterosexual, very nice and extremely considerate. However, they also are often afraid becoming a burden, insecure in their appearance or social skills, and often struggling with mental health. Given this, they are also usually extremely afraid of never finding themselves having sex or getting into a meaningful relationship in the late stage neoliberal capitalist dystopia we find ourselves in. To be honest I didn’t understand them at first, especially their obsession with sex. But the more I am thinking about it, the more I realize that we are united in the same dynamic of seeing sex or love as magic verfication of... What?

Growing up, I used hookups as a way to prove to myself that I am worth something. I thought that my value was defined by men’s desire. I originally in writing this wanted to show my perspective from the other side of the same coin, but after realizing how much of an undertaking that would be, I decided to start with the two most common answers from men used as justification to why they think they won’t get laid. These are things I find will help these kinds of people out, but as a great thinker once said...

“I can’t mom you through this one, boys. You are on your own.” - Contrapoints

(I link songs I like through out btw, the underlined text are links you can click on)

Foreword: Social factors

The average age of first intercourse has been rising in the US. Teenagers have less sex than ever before. These changes will affect you. In teen movies and shows charakters often experiment with sexuality before the age of 18. Everything else is played as an abnormality. If we compare ourselves to this misrepresentation of teenage sexuality, of course we seem like the losers.

“The proportion of young people who have had sexual intercourse increases rapidly as they age through adolescence”. It’s very likely, at least from my view, that you are just going to grow out of the awkward zone of wanting intimacy but not getting it. Just like you grew out of other things, such as bad musical taste or that one gaudy outfit. Don’t stress over this one specifically either.

Adolescence is weird for all of us. Even if your first encounter is after college, let’s be real here: having such a good thing in your own place without your parents looming or having to share your room with a roommate you barely know is so much better anyway.

The Ugly fuck too

A common answer to my question why they think that they will never have sex is that they are “unattractive”. The implication being, that sex is the prize for looking a certain way.

But is it? We are so used to the perfect, porn-ready bodies in the media that we forget that the Ugly fuck too. We never see the foldes of fat and skin, never see acne warriors or moles, never see people who actually look like us.

In the movie “The Parasite”, there is a scene where the husband of Gook Moon-gwang, the former housekeeper, is implied to have sex. (the clip, starts at 3:00) It gave me weird feelings of discomfort, as the illusion so stereotypically found on the silver screen was not present. These two characters are not pretty. They look old. She is fat and he is a balding skeleton. They are not special, and that’s okay.

Being fuckable does not equal beauty. Being fuckable does not equal beauty. It was a terrifying thought initially for someone like me who defined their value over beauty & their beauty as being fuckable. It might also be a scary thought for someone who doesn’t think that they deserve love and intimacy because of their looks. I promise you that you still deserve love! Sex did not cure my problems with my appearance, or the fact that I based my self-esteem on the way I look. It will not make you feel normal. It will not make you feel better, prove your worth or even give you more self esteem in the long term beyond the initial rush of dopamine. It is not a caravan to fulfillment.

Beauty is a concept that is based on exclusion. Allow yourself to feel the pain of being excluded, of not reaching the impossible beauty standards and the disadvantages that come with it. Allow yourself to feel the fear of not being “man enough” and be happy in spite of it.

“Patriarchal masculinity teaches us to control our pain, but it can block us from experiencing the grief that is part of a full life. Chasing pleasure and controlling pain is patriarchal. Opening ourselves up to joy and grief is to be fully human.”

”Those of us in that skinny nerd category are especially prone to thinking that we aren’t “man enough.” [..] But the more I talked to men, the more convinced I became that almost all men at some point in their lives don’t feel man enough. Even the men I thought were the “real men” were scared.

That’s not surprising. Masculinity in patriarchy—that is, masculinity in a system of institutionalized male dominance—trains men to be competitive, in pursuit of conquest, which leads to routine confrontation, with the goal of always being in control of oneself and others. But no matter how intensely competitive one is, no matter how complete the conquest, no matter how many successful confrontations, and no matter how much one stays in control—men are haunted by the fear that they aren’t man enough, that they can never stop proving their masculinity.” - Robert Jensen

Stop comparing your appearance to other men’s. Start talking and bonding with them over your undoubtably shared insecurities rooted in society’s relentless toxic masculinity. Unlearning the things you’ve been indoctrinated into since conception is damn hard. I am still in the middle of it personally, but I promise you it is worth it. It will improve not only your relationships with other men, but also with yourself and that one girl you’re pining after.

There are a ton of resources targeted at women about self acceptance, but not many for men. Robert Jenson comes from a tradition of critical men’s groups. Even though I don’t agree with him on everything, he manages to scare most men (especially the kind I mentioned in the first paragraph) to their core, but also improves their lives drastically with his kindness and radical ideas. I implore you to look him up, and try your best to keep an open mind.

“A person who functions normally in a sick society is themselve sick.”

The other most common answer  to the initial question was “being socially maladjusted”, implying that sex is something you earn by behaving a certain way. It is ingrained in the way we talk about love. “Deserving love” is the best example. Neither love nor sex is a product of work. Love and intimacy are a lot like sleep. It is a slow but unconscious process. You slowly work into it, with no idea of what comes next, and then, after an agonizingly long moment, you’re there. The fall is not often expected or easy, is always exhilarating, but never the product of conformity to anything except comfort with who you are.

I do acknowledge that social settings can be weird, existentially unsettling, and full of unseen complexities. This is especially true if you are neurodivergent and / or struggling with mental health.  Being neurodivergent or struggling with mental health goes against the impossible, hegemonically masculine standard of always being in controll. It’s a common cause behind feelings of emasculation. Disregard that feeling, and remember that you deserve love, no matter how manly you are or are not, no matter how you behave.

Learning social settings are lot like learning to skate. In the beginning you will be covered in bruises, but with enough effort, you will be better at it. The chance of mistakes will get lower, but never zero. You will always have awkward situations, but that doesn’t mean that you are bad at them. It just means that you have room to improve still. Maybe consider getting lessons or joining a skate crew.

We tend to hyperfocus on the accidents. Think about how many nice conversations you had over the internet, text or otherwise. I ask you to value them. Value these positive experiences, value your friendships and acquaintances, value the people supporting you, online and offline. We tend to hyperfocus on meaningfull longterm friendships, just like we hyperfocus on love. Value your social enviroment, value someone who just made you feel ok for a moment. You are socially adapted, because you have a social enviroment you feel comfortable in, where you have relationships with people. The depth of a relationship is not messured by time, nor by physical touch. Being mindful of your feelings for the people around you can make you realize that you are less alone than you thought.

Some Tips

If you want to make friends additionally to that, here are some tips from someone, who is bad at social clues:

Join a group with a common interest or struggle: Book clubs, activist groups, selfhelp groups, they are great settings to meet new people and you already have a topic to talk about :)

If you feel save about it: Being open about your issues can help other people adapt to you and understand you better - especially in early on in relationships.

People sitting at the bar or smoking outside are generally more open for conversation

Don’t be afraid of getting rejected: They don’t reject you, when they reject a conversation with you. The reasons people don’t want to talk to you is very diverse. Stay respectful and polite.

Don’t expect to much: No one owes you a long conversation. A smalltalk is perfectly fine.

Learn to make compliments casually and learn to compliments that aren’t based on appearance.

Find a common ground (politically, a interest ect.) and talk about it

Take a improv class, seriously TAKE A IMPROV CLASS! (there are online ones, and sometimes it’s even free)

Here are some youtube videos by Anna Akana with more tips. (1) conversations, (2) how to be a better friend, (3) overthinking

Here are is a piece about being bad at relationship I liked.

Footnote: Trophies and muses

“We do not want to do the work of helping you to believe in your humanity. We cannot do it anymore. We have always tried. We have been repaid with systematic exploitation and systematic abuse. You are going to have to do this yourselves from now on and you know it.” - Andrea Dowkin

Behind the whole obsession with sex is often a distorted perception of women. Just remind yourself that women are human? Access to female bodies is not a human right. We are not trophies to push your ego. We are not there to inspire you or heal you. We are humans with agency. We desire love and being loved, just like everyone else.

I am tired, but I believe in your humanity...

xoxo,

aestheticritique

So I would love to progress on my art and try comics any tips? ÙwÚ

Hi! I’m so sorry about the late reply. D: I hope you don’t mind if I take this opportunity to address all the anon messages about how we can improve as artists. 

I have a tough time answering this question because there is so much I need to learn. I’m super flattered that some of you feel that my art is good enough to ask me for tips, first of all!! So thank you, guys.

It’s a struggle because I only recently started taking up art again. So I’ve forgotten a lot of the things. So I’m probably not the best person to ask about this.

I used to draw all the time as a kid, but after high school, I stopped drawing. I stopped drawing for almost a decade, pretty much. I really regret it. I feel like I could have come such a long way if I did keep going. My parents really discouraged me from pursuing art, even just as a hobby, too. Even when I left home (I’m back now tho), my ex-spouse, greatly discouraged me from doing art too. I mean, “proper” art. They told me my art wasn’t “real art” because it’s not studio art, it’s “sellout” art, like anime/cartoons/fanart. I had even worse self-esteem as I do now, and I listened to them and gave up. I convinced myself I hated drawing. 

Please don’t deny yourself things that make you feel engaged and connected. If drawing makes you feel good, if it makes you not realize how much time has passed and makes you feel like you’re accomplishing things, even little by little, please don’t stop. Even if you suffer from depression and feel like things like this are pointless, remember that just doing things in general will help you. Drawing is an awesome way to get into the flow state. To me personally, it’s almost like a meditative state and I find it helpful in dealing with chronic pain and mental health issues. 

Anyways, I’ll try to compile some advice sort of things.

ART IN GENERAL

1. Draw what you enjoy! I think the most important thing is to draw what you like. It’s okay if it’s “dumb stuff”. Draw your favorite characters or pairings from your favorite tv shows if that tickles your fancy! You’re much more likely to be spending more time drawing if you’re drawing stuff you like. And as long as you’re drawing, you’re improving. (But still, challenge yourself and get out of your comfort zone!)

Especially for those of you who are planning to pursue art as a career, it’s essential that you don’t view practicing art as a chore. 

2. Draw from life. If you really want to take your art to the next level, drawing from life is vital! I think many of us have come across artists who are just amazing, but there are things that look a little “off”. For example, the anatomy doesn’t look quite right, or the perspective is a little wonky. Things like that can be a tell that they’ve learned to draw from other people’s art rather than from life. Or just haven’t practiced the basics enough. (My art isn’t amazing or anything close to that lmao, but it definitely suffers from this. I need lots of life drawing practice.)

There is nothing wrong with learning from your favorite artists, but to really train your “artist’s eye”, you need to strip away all the stylistic choices and go back to the basics. Training that Eye is one of the most crucial things you could do as an artist. 

Just take a piece of paper, a pencil and start drawing what you see. If you can, take figure drawing classes at your local community college, or draw the animals you see at the zoo. Sit on a bench and draw the scenery in front of you. Over time, you’ll start to recognize common patterns, simplify/think of things in terms of lines and shapes.

If you can’t afford a class or have the ability to go outside easily, drawing from photographs can be the next best thing. (See the Resources below for an online figure drawing tool.) I’m not experienced enough to definitively say why this isn’t the #1 idea, but from what I hear, there are things that you’ll miss out on, such as subtle shifts in shadows, colors, and other things that will happen from small movements in pose changes, a cloud moving, or whatever else. A different “feel”, if you will.

With the digital art boom, a lot of artists are learning how to do cool digital effects and fancy things, but forgoing basic anatomy, perspective, shading, etc. Which is all fine if you’re just having fun, but isn’t the best idea if you’re really serious about improving. Practice the fundamentals!

(If you have been dreaming about CalArts at one point like I did when I was in high school, one advice I came across from everyone who went there was to draw from life. All the time. It’s not an answer I expected from people who draw funny looking characters all day. You mean all these people who draw such simplified cartoon people and animals can actually draw like masters? Perfectly rendered bowls of fruit? I didn’t realize how much work goes into animating simple characters.)

3. Put in the time. 

It’s really easy to get suckered into just watching “how to improve” videos all day and thinking about improving. Watching how other artists work is an important learning tool, but you’ll never actually make progress if you aren’t practicing. 

Sometimes, the best thing to do is to not think about it. Just do it. 

It’s like when I’m spending a whole lotta time thinking about getting physically fit than just, you know.. just doing it. “Tomorrow for sure.” 

It may seem like it’s worthless, but doing those lame 5 push-ups a day instead of the 20-minute workout you wanted to put in, is better than nothing at all. You are making progress, no matter how small it may seem.  

Make it a habit to practice every day. That way, you don’t even hesitate. It’s as automatic as brushing your teeth.

All the artists you see who have fantastic, awe-inspiring art may seem like Unreachable Gods sometimes, but those artists didn’t just pull that out of their ass one day. They put in hours and hours and hours of work. Let’s not disrespect other artists by ignoring that and chalking it up to “talent”. No one is born with an innate ability to draw. WE can get there too if we practice!

I want to get good enough to draw the things I have in my head one day!

Some resources that may be helpful:

Draw a Box - This is a site for free lessons for absolute beginners. Look under “Lessons” to learn. The creator of the site is the mod for r/ArtFundamentals. You can post your work there to get critiqued.

Check out Proko’s videos on gesture drawing, art fundamentals, etc. Daily routines of successful artists.

Use this site to practice figure drawing, gesture drawing - Set aside some time to practice drawing people and animals every day. Start trying to see things as lines, shapes, and go big. Don’t get too caught up in the details, and tiny drawings. Learning to draw fast (not draw FAST as in speed, but as in capture the gesture in a post, the “feel” of the movement) will force you to do this more, and with more experience, make your figures less stiff looking. 

And it’s okay if you’re aren’t good at it. You’ll make loads and loads of shit drawings until you can get decent. 

I’m most definitely in this stage right now, trying to train my Artist’s Eye. As in, I can’t just draw a figure from memory. I don’t really know what goes where without a reference, or how they move, etc. You can tell by how stiff my drawings look.

Lulusketches How to Improve video - She has similar advice, but her point about looking at “Art of” books something I have come across from multiple professional artists; Her advice on worrying about finding your own “style” is really good too. Do challenges like she said!

Her playlist of art tutorials & advice is great. They’re short and sweet. Her beginner digital art tutorial got me started on digital art (the one with Ginny Weasley). 

Not free ($30 a month), but these online Schoolism classes look helpful. It’s run by Bobbie Chiu. I saw some great reviews and I want to try them someday. They’re taught by artists in the animation/film industry. But you gotta have a basic grasp on digital art/photoshop for many of the classes, I think? I’m not 100% sure. They’re pre-recorded video lessons. 

You can pay more for feedback from the teachers, but you can also just use it as a self-learning guide. 

This drawing faces from any angle video was pretty helpful for me. The artist has loads of other tutorials.

COMICS

I don’t feel qualified enough to give much advice on comics. I mean, I don’t even draw the lines for the boxes, haha.. However, these comic books are basically required reading for some courses:

Scott McCloud’s Understanding Comics & Making Comics.

I can’t remember which one it is that I read, I think it was Making Comics? But wow, if I remember correctly, it was FULL of really useful things about how to make effective comics. I lost the book while moving years ago, but it was FANTASTIC learning material. I loved every panel of it. 

He talks about everything from perspective, placement of characters, speech bubbles, how big panels should be, etc. 

If you can afford it, get a used one and start reading! Even if you don’t want to make comics just yet, it’s super interesting. 

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 14 – From This Point and On

D-day: it is a term coined from the landings performed by the Allied at Normandy, which lay in hands of Nazi Germany during the Second World War.

There are several historical debates concerning the accurate representation of “D.” The most commonly supported argument nowadays is that “D-day” is an acronym for “Day-Day,” and the former “day” is believed to be a temporary connotation of the date of the landings, which was unsettled at the time.

Simply put, “D-day” was named for “the day unknown,” in a way. Which is ironic, considering the fact that by the 21st century this term has come to denote a specific date of an event or operation.

On the other hand, had Rael known the origin of “D-day,” he would have thought that it could not be any more perfect for his situation. Because even though it was the D-day for him, he had no idea whether he could depart for Lukedonia.

At the same time, however, now kind of familiar with the human called Yuhyung Jang, he really did not care.

He did not care that the researcher did not show up on time for an hour, as long as he could leave by the end of the day.

And Rael could swear he took care in making himself sound not too irritated with the delay, but the KSA agent leading him to the lab was sweating his glands off trying to appease him.

“P-please don’t worry, sir! I’ll teach him a lesson as soon as we find him!”

Rael already told him a number of times he needed not to fret, to no avail. Then again, the director and the doctor, the most authoritative personnel in KSA, and Yeonsu and Sangin, the most influential agents of KSA, looked more than ready to bark like a dog or jump off the building, if only Rael had said the word.

So Rael was not surprised to see lesser employees, including his guide, acting like a bunch of scaredy-cats.

Hence Rael gave up on relieving his guide of his anxiety by the time they reached Yuhyung’s lab, which was sealed by a wooden door fit into the frame as a provisional boundary, perhaps because Yeonsu made the original door useless with a kick.

“Hey! Yuhyung! You in there?!”

The agent pounded the door, and they were met with a crashing sound within, something to be heard from a demolition site.

“What on earth is keeping you there for an hour?!”

“S-sorry! Sorry! It’s just that...”

“Well, hurry up! You’re late...!!”

“N-no! Don’t open the door! Please, don’t!!”

Yuhyung freaked and yelled, while Rael spied something through the opening of the wooden board.

‘A smoke? Is there fire again?’

He was about to warn the agent, when the latter jerked open the door and screamed at Yuhyung demanding to tell them what kind of trouble he brewed this time. He thereby allowed the misty body flickering inside the lab to spill out to the corridor.

Rael was unfazed by the déjà vu of his previous visit to Yuhyung’s lab. He was only interested in what had happened to the owner of the lab.

‘It doesn’t smell like something burned... But I wouldn’t dub it as an ordinary smoke. What is this smell...?’

The blonde noble was about to step into the room to inspect better, when the agent next to him blocked his mouth with his hand. At the same time his knees gave out, and the man promptly collapsed.

“Agent Jung!”

Just then Yuhyung, with his nasal area protected with a thick piece of cloth, bolted out of the lab and examined the fallen agent. As soon as he recognized Rael, who was also wearing alarmed eyes, he literally groveled before him.

“P-please! I need your help!!! W-we must not let this gas spread through the building!”

Rael’s composure kicked in upon the man’s plea, and he lunged towards the chamber. He shut the door and surveyed his surroundings to find out where the smoke was coming from – under Yuhyung’s desk.

Or rather, from the center of a mass of shattered glasses scattered about the leg of his desk.

When he had to take advantage of Frankenstein’s lab in the past, Rael collected enough scientific knowledge and experimental tips to realize exactly what he would need in this situation. The noble fervently rolled his eyes, which soon landed on a round-bottom flask labeled “neutralizer.” Sparing no second, he snatched the utensil and catapulted it.

He swiftly maneuvered his body so he would be safely away from the smoke even before the chemical would hit the glasses, and instantly even thicker smoke blasted through air, with a sound of an acid scorching the surface of a metal.

However, the phenomenon was short-lived, as the first smoke blended with the new smoke and grew faint in color and stench. Rael waited for the original smell to dissipate completely until he unfastened the door.

“T-thank you so much! That’s right... The neutralizer. How could I forget? I was so stupid. I was...”

“So startled you missed it. Which is natural. Totally understandable. By the way, what was that gas?”

Yuhyung’s face turned melancholy, distressed, while Rael took the agent to a nearby cot, still unconscious.

“This gas was one of the secret weapons we were developing against the Union. Or rather, it was one of the weapons we were developing against modified humans. What we had in mind was a weapon that can subjugate modified humans.”

“You mean only modified humans?”

“That’s right. When humans go through body modification, their genes naturally go through man-made genetic mutations, which create unnatural biochemical molecules to last permanently in their genetic make-up. So we figured if we come up with a weapon that reacts exclusively to such molecules, we will be able to arm ourselves with a weapon that works solely on our enemies AND prove devastating against the Union. I was in the lead of the project concerning this gas.”

A weapon that makes a lethal chemical reaction with physical traits unique to the modified humans – it sounded more than efficient to Rael. Which in turn made him question how come KSA has been keeping it secret even now. And how come the researcher seemed so disappointed when he should be practically stabbing the air with his nose in pride for such a breakthrough of weaponry.

Yuhyung opened his mouth in reply, which punctually rid Rael of his questions.

“But we were met with a problem. With our current technology and resources, it was impossible for us to adjust the effectiveness of the gas while keeping the Union’s radar quiet. In the end, this gas became a blackout tranquilizer that takes effect on modified humans and ordinary humans – a huge waste of our time and money and effort.”

Yuhyung turned his head towards the spot where the gas used to rise, his pupils dense with dejection and mixture of affection and hatred.

“So I decided to destroy it, after saving a sample of it in case we would need it in the future as a reference. And I was trying to make the bottle more airtight just before you arrived, so... Yeah. Uh, but I’m not blaming you! Not at all! This is all because I was clumsy.”

“...Does our upcoming trip have anything to do with your nervousness...?”

“Uhm... It’s true that I got less sleep than usual last night, but... Uh, but that doesn’t mean I blame you for this! I will never do that!!!”

Rael waved his head ever-so-slightly before he clogged his voice box. After all, his priority was not shaping his conversation with Yuhyung into an actual conversation. They were supposed to drop by the director’s office one last time before they moved on their way.

Still, Rael could not help peeking at the man as they walked towards their destination.

‘Frantic but certainly gifted in research. In other words, a puzzle of a human being.’

Now that he learned about this so-called supposed special weapon against the Union, he had even come to admire Yuhyung.

He was aware that “keeping the Union’s radar quiet” did not simply mean keeping the Union in the dark regarding this gas.

‘In addition to keeping this gas secret, these people would have had to downgrade their technology on the surface, to make KSA technology appear like a firefly in the face of a sun in comparison to Union technology. So that even if Union gets to take a look at their technology, those monsters wouldn’t notice that KSA has been trying their hands on studies and experiments on body modification behind their backs.’

Even with limited resources and technology aside, the fact that this man managed to develop such a pioneering weapon to near completion under the invisible eyes proves how talented he is as a developer.

‘Not to mention KSA’s technology on body modification would be at least a century behind that of the Union. Not that KSA must have been slacking off with their lab progress, but its technology in the essence would be no more than imitation of Union technology, thus obviously lacking in precision and quality. But this guy designed what could have been a masterpiece with inadequate resources, mimicry of technology, and progress that would not draw Union’s attention.’

What could have happened if this human received his salary not from KSA but from Union? What if this researcher decided to antagonize nobles or werewolves?

‘I’d hate to even imagine what could have happened.’

Joyful for the very first time that he was not an opponent to an ordinary human, instead of a supernatural fighter or a modified human, Rael glanced at Yuhyung with veneration.

In other words, noblekind and wolfkind have earned a superbly deft ally.

Which is why Rael’s footsteps had grown much more steadfast on his way out of the director’s office.

‘Now it’s all up to me. As long as I do my job correctly, this project will be a success. And Lukedonia and werewolves would get to boast tighter alliance and security and accelerate their recoveries. And the Kertia advisory patriarchs would hopefully acknowledge me. So I will do a good job. I must.’

Feeling his anxiety stirring, Rael calmed himself.

‘A lot of things will change from this point and on.’

*****

Meanwhile, Frankenstein’s Lab

“...Beg your pardon?”

Frankenstein retorted at his visitor, apparently unhappy that she must repeat herself, as suggested by her pursed lips.

“Where is the 3rd Elder?”

Frankenstein could tell that this was not a social or friendly visit, for Lunark was donning a face of a child whose mother verbally offered some broccolis.

“Mind if I ask you why you need to see him?”

As soon as he asked, Lunark’s grimace thickened. Now she looked like a child whose mother shoved broccolis into her face.

“Mind if I ask you why you need to know?”

Lunark replied, somehow making herself sound like she had her teeth clenched tight despite her wide-open mouth.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you before you.”

“You sound like there’s a reason you can’t tell me.”

“You sound like there’s a reason you can’t show him to me.”

“Can’t you just let me know why?”

“Can’t you just let me see him?”

The banter between two gorgeous man and woman was interrupted by a third person who was not altogether unrelated to their conversation.

“No need to tire yourselves with a potential argument. I’m right here.”

The 3rd Elder joined the lab, separating a towel from his half-dry hair.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Lady Lunark?”

Lunark turned her hesitant eyes to Frankenstein. He met her straight in the eyes, questioning if she were staring at the right person.

“There’s nothing that Frankenstein cannot listen among the things that are meant for me. There shouldn’t be anything that he can’t listen.”

The 3rd Elder so very kindly explained, and Lunark signaled her acquiescence with a sigh.

“Recently, I have been in lead of my kind’s search squad, made up of warriors in order to track down Union facilities. And we picked up a couple locations. But there is a problem – or problems.”

“And what would they be...?”

“First, the facilities we found were already shut down. Second, those facilities belonged to Crombell.”

“Crombell? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. And don’t ask me how we figured that out; that’s the least of your concerns. Those facilities were wiped out so clean we couldn’t fathom anything about the ones that preceded us – whether they are male or female, or single or multiple. But curiously, they left the security camera footages intact, albeit tampered and therefore unhelpful.”

“Perhaps the ones who did the shutdown felt no need to delete them, with the footages already tampered beyond repair.”

“Probably. Frankenstein, has your gang ever taken a field trip overseas for their shutdown operation...?”

“No. For now they’re working in joint with KSA only in Korea, within its shoreline. They haven’t even been to Jeju Island.”

Lunark nodded, having expected such an answer. She focused her eyes at 3rd Elder, devoid of contempt for once.

“Well? Does this ring a bell for you?”

“...It’s hard for me to say exactly who this could be. But I think I can come up with a list of candidates behind this, if you want me to.”

“You think you can finish it in two days?”

“I’ll do that. Which is why I’d like to be excused. There’s not even a second to waste.”

The 3rd Elder turned his feet, his loose hair generating a faint whistle of a wind. Frankenstein started talking only after his sounds vanished impeccably, Lunark not even looking at him.

“Did Ignes’s data include locations of Crombell’s facilities?”

“...Yeah. Guess she undertook espionage on Crombell while devising defense against him.”

Soon afterwards Lunark sighed, still not looking at him.

“Sorry for being so biting back there. I wanted to speak to him in private if possible.”

“And why is that?”

“I figured you’d sprint outside as soon as I tell you about this. You know, so you can look into it yourself. I didn’t want to add more to your shoulders when you’re already carrying a weight worth a continent.”

“...I can’t deny that it’s most convenient for me to handle everything myself. But for now, I’m anchored to this place. So I have no intention to do that. Or rather, I’ve no time to spare for that. I’m starting to wonder how much of a busybody you take me for.”

“Busybody? I’ve never considered you a...”

Lunark rapidly rotated her head, as if complaining to him that is the most preposterous accusation she has ever heard. However, she realized how sharp her voice had become and took a deep breath.

“Anyways, sorry for barging in. I’ll be back in two days.”

Lunark turned towards the door without haste, only to glance back after a few steps.

“You do realize you’re the one who’s making me a busybody these days, don’t you? You’d better not keep me concerned about you.”

Frankenstein could not budge even after she was gone.

‘She’s concerned about me?’

In response, Frankenstein’s heart started to twist and turn, like a pair of socks in a dryer set to high.

When she did not tell him the purpose of her visit at first, he was oddly disappointed. Because with their entire history with Union taken into account, and simply with their relations taken into account, he anticipated her to glare at 3rd Elder, not him.

And when she later apologized on the matter, he was reassured. Reassured to find out that she was being considerate in her own way. Seemingly she is still being considerate for him.

Frankenstein then noted he was much more reassured than he is supposed to be and bit his lips.

‘Snap out of it, Frankenstein. This is no time for you to let that woman sway your feelings.’

Frankenstein scattered his hair, reprimanding his heart for not being itself whenever it is concerned with Lunark.

‘I need to get a grip on myself. Though I’m not sure why she keeps getting on my nerves after all this time... I really need to get a grip.’

The QuadraNet project will come to life, starting with Lukedonia, with help from nobles, werewolves, KSA, and his family in Korea. On the other hand, more than a handful of people are working their heads off to cleanse the world of the Union, especially Crombell. Therefore, it is best for him to focus on nothing but finding a solution to his new secret that not even Raizel is knowledgeable of.

‘A hoard of things will change from this point and on. I need to focus.’

*****

As for 3rd Elder, he was composing in his bedroom a rough draft of the list he promised to Lunark. Nevertheless, he knew this list would be meaningless. He was certain he knew the one Lunark was looking for, by 80% accuracy.

The fact that footages from security cameras, albeit tampered, were lingering at the scenes was more than enough to teach him who did it.

‘This is definitely her style with the job. But why? Why would she do that? I thought she was also one of Crombell’s assassins.’

Soon his brain yielded two most likely options.

‘Either she chose the extremity of eradicating everything about her commander so that no one would acquire a thing about him... Or she chose anti-Crombell propaganda now that he is gone. Though that leaves a question of whether there is someone she is serving if the latter is the case.’

He had input Helga’s name on the list, as he was typing the names in the alphabetical order. After deliberation, he began to move his hand.

‘Maybe... Just maybe...’

The cursor began to delete letters with a series of clicks, starting with “a” and ending with “h.”

Saving the list excluding Helga’s name before closing it, 3rd Elder let the air rustle through his windpipe in low vibration.

‘Maybe things will change from this point and on.’

(next chapter)

You have reached the 25% of this fanfic series! I’m not talking about the number of chapters (which keeps changing as I am typing up this message). I’m saying this was the last chapter of the introduction part of this fanfic, which is why the preceding chapters did not contain what could be considered a crisis or a battle (minus the skirmish Takio had gone through during his past, which was what chapter 13 featured). And of course, things will change beginning from next chapter. Hope you’d stay tuned for those!

Aimi Otsukas Taiyuu Enterance exam!

@taiyuu-high-oct

A/n sorry it wouldn’t let me add a read more page break on my iPad 😩

Word count : 3k

Ps just realized I switched into x reader format and I didn’t even see it while I was spell checking or anything it just shows how tired I am rn sorry about that.

To say Aimis nerves were a little shot was an understatement. Not that the high-end bullet train with unnecessarily good bento didn't help a little but still, anyone would be nervous on their first day at a new school.

She was lucky to have been given the chance to be admitted at all considering her application was so late. In her defense, neither she or her parents actually knew about the school existing. It was Toma who’d suggested it.

Aimi wants to imagine that her loving boyfriend just wanted her to go to the latest and greatest hero school to open but she knew better. She knew that the big softy wanted her as close to home as possible and a two-hour train ride was better than the five hour one she’d have to take to get home for the weekends at the school she’d originally planned on attending.

She was just glad that the principal had agreed to her enrollment at all, considering her quirk she’d been denied by three other schools and she hadn't been hopeful when she submitted an application for review anyway.

But here she was. Standing in front of what was probably the fanciest facility she’d ever seen in her life. Growing up in a small farming community did absolutely nothing to help prepare her for anything that she’d experienced just this morning and she hadn't even done anything other than ride a super fancy train.

She was fishing around in her side bag to see if there had been any more instructions but as far as she could remember, the invitation letter said she’d be met at the train station.

Looking over the slightly smashed piece of paper she confirmed that her memory was right but… there was no one on-site. On both sides of the station, she was the only living thing that she could see.

Then she heard a rapid tapping noise, that she couldn't tell the direction of.

Was the exam starting already? Why wouldn’t it? I mean this is a hero school isn’t it, heroes have to be ready for anything at a moment's notice.

When she felt a cold nose on the back of her calf she almost jumped out of her skin though jumping up and effectively ruining her favorite sweater by activating her quirk on accident.

Thank god she’d jumped though because when she turned around to see her attacker she saw what had to be the cutest little dog she’d ever seen in her life.

All of a sudden she wasn't so mad about her selves being shredded and she was more worried about petting the cute puppy.

The sound of someone clearing their throat behind her caught her attention and had her turning on the spot, a little embarrassed at getting caught gushing over a puppy and even more so about her now scrappy looking clothes.

“Ms. Otsuka I presume?” The man who looked much more deer than anyone else she’d ever seen asked as he bowed politely. She nodded and returned the gesture.

“Sorry I was late, the other students were excited about hearing they’d be getting another classmate. Some wanted to meet you directly at the gate but it's best they didn't.” He said in some kind explanation, Aimi didn't really understand what harm it would have been to have met her classmates sooner rather than later.

Then she realized that they’d all taken the test already and having people give her hints about anything wasn't exactly fair to them, was it? She wanted to go in blind just like everyone else and prove that she had the same rights that they had to be here.

“Your written tests were quite impressive.” The man who’d at that point introduced himself as the vice-principal of the school and preferred that he just be called by his hero name, Buckskin.

It was kinda cool and nerve-racking at the same time, Aimi had never met a hero in real life before. She wanted to seem cool and collected when she internally was freaking out with nerves that quickly sat back in as Buckskin seemed to be leading her to where she’d be taking her exam.

“I’ve been studying for the test since my first year of middle school,” Aimi said trying and failing to sound confident.

“So you’ll have no problem passing the entrance exam, it's not particularly difficult. We’ve personalized it to you and your quirk given that we had the extra time. It will give both us and your future classmates an idea of what we're working with.” He said smiling as if what he’d said was supposed to somehow help you. Others had been able to help one another, you were going in alone with spectators.

If you were to fail everyone would see it. Not that it would really matter to them… You’d just be no one other than some kid with a bad quirk who failed a test that they passed.

To you, you’d have to explain to your parents who’d almost lost their business with all the money they’d paid down for quirk therapy and control lessons for you, all of the extra tutoring you’d needed to get your test scores to where they needed to be to get what you wanted, why you’d failed.

You’d have to explain to Toma, who’d lost more than a few nights of sleep to help you study and make sure that you were mentally ready for something like this. You didn't know if you’d be able to face him if you walked away empty-handed. He wouldn’t care he’d just be happy to have you home but you wouldn’t.

You were lead to a locker room and given a chance to change from your casual clothes into the clothes you’d brought to take the test with. It never occurred to you that others would be actually watching you take the test so the tank top and gym shorts felt a little revealing but you didn’t have the option to change your mind.

When you exited the locker room you met Buckskin and another woman who was introduced to you as the principal of the school, Ms. Chikyu, you’d never known her real name, you had however recognized her hero name Laccadasiy. Suddenly your lack of confidence plummeted to the point of seemingly no return.

Someone so cool and strong was the actual principal of the school?! How in the hell were you EVER gonna get in? Why should she let you? There isn’t anything you could ever hope to offer.

“Hey enough of the long face!” She said patting your back a little harder than you think she’d meant to but it helped pull your head out of your ass. “We just wanna see what you can do! It’s not gonna be easy but it will sure as hell be fun!” She said earning a sharp look from Buckskin. “Hell isn't even a cuss word Bambie calm down.” She scoffed rolling her eyes and joking around with the other teacher.

“Anyway wait for that light right there to turn green and your good to step up to the door. It’s automatic so it’ll let you in.” She said pointing at a now red number one that hung above a seemingly normal set of metal doors.

“Good luck!” She chimed before both of them disappeared threw a door a little further down the hall.

Being alone gave you the chance to think and at the current point in time, it wasn't exactly a good thing. Why in the hell did you think that this was a good idea in the first place? There were so many other hero’s out there and you? You couldn't even come close even if you tried. It was pathetic that you’d even had hopes and it was downright wrong that you’d dragged your family and friends down in this? What right did you have to drain them of their time and resources? Playing with their emotions was just cruel.

Greenlight.

Your body moved on its own, that malicious voice in your head lowering in volume but not disappearing.

“Your first task is simple.” Laccadasys’ voice rang out over an inter calm system as the wall in the relatively small room started to raise up, revealing an impossibly larger room beyond it. A large stone sphere and a ridiculously steep decline.

“At the bottom of the hill, is a pressure plate, get the stone ball onto it and it’ll unlock the door.” She said and you took a few steps forward checking and seeing that there was, in fact, a place for the ball at the bottom but if it went too far or jumped the short lip at the bottom you were skewed and the door wasn't going to open at all. You were going to have to come up with an idea to get it to stop, if you could get it to move at all.

“GO AIIIIIMIIIIIIIIIII!” You heard a voice screaming from somewhere along with a few other cheers.

Swinging around you were met with a glass wall that separated you from a large group of others that had to be at least close to your age. Most of them looked excited, others looked like they had better things to do and one was even asleep.

There was someone though with blue hair and a sucker in her mouth who was making a few others hold up a handwritten banner that had ‘Welcome Aimi!’ Plastered on it. It honestly looked like it was several pieces of printer paper taped together and it was probably written in crayon but it was the thought that counted.

You had support here too.

Support was all you needed.

You had everything else covered.

You didn't have much time to do anything other than wave before the buzzer sounded and you walked over to the ball that had to weigh at least 2 tons. A tap let you know that it was solid rock.

Looking at the bottom of it revealed it sat on a lip too and you’d have to get it up and over that before you could even worry about the bottom of the hill.

“Now might be a good time to inform you that you have three minutes to get into the next room.” Buckskin said as a large LCD clock appeared on the ball counting down the seconds and minutes.

Cursing under your breath you tried pushing it like an idiot and of course, that did nothing.

Think fast

You manifested a blade on your forearm, curved and blunt, the last thing you needed was to chip the damn ball and stick it where it was forever. You moved to jam your blade in between the stone and the floor it sat on and pushed. It moved but it didn’t move enough.

You switched from your arm to your foot, knowing you’d always had more strength in your legs.

And THAT WORKED!

Too well, it was now rolling away down the incline at increasing speeds and away from you.

You’d never expected to use your blade skates like this but here you were. Gliding down the smooth concrete incline on blades that curved over the bottom of your feet and knees. As close to the floor as you could possibly get to go as fast as you could. You got there before the ball did, nearly overshooting it over the edge of the floor but you were able to hook yourself before that happened.

You didn't have time to think, just stop the ball. So with blades from your thighs at the ready to stop it and standing in the most grounded and immovable stance, you could muster you braced yourself.

“You really need to have more faith in that quirk of yours Otsuka!” Laccadasey called over the intercom. You opened your eyes to see the ball stopped in front of you with the numbers now flashing green revealing you almost had a full minute and a half of time left and the door behind you opened before you’d even pulled the blades back under your skin.

You moved as fast as you could not even taking time to think about how in the hell you didn't even feel that incredibly heavy ball hit your blades. It had to have stopped automatically on the plate it as designed to land on. That made a lot more sense than you being that strong.

You stood in front of an impossibly bigger room on a platform that was at least five stories above a moat of dark water. What it was surround however was what had all the attention. Large raised platforms that looked like giant books standing up on end with the spines up wards, if books were made out of solid looking stone anyway. Thin, and varying in both height and space between each of them with another platform at the end of the room that looked small in the distance. There had to be at least 30 raised platforms you were guessing that you had to get across.

You waited looking around for some kind of directions, a set of rules, a time limit but the intercom speaker you saw hanging on the wall was silent. Turning to look for anything else like a platform on the side you could run up, that wasn't there but there was another glass wall revealing that everyone was moving to watch this task too. The girl and her friends smiling happy and cheering on the other side of the glass, the encouragement might have helped if you could hear it.

You just decided to cut your losses and go for it.

Jumping from platform to platform gripping on with blades and climbing up before jumping to the next one. The task was pretty straightforward and simple but very exhausting. You hadn’t brought any iron gummies with you and you were getting winded from both overusing your quirk and just the physical work that you had to do climbing up the walls.

You stood at the end of the room in front of the now open door that had been so small minutes ago, doubled over with your hands on your knees and grasping trying to catch your breath. Couldn't this have just been a normal obstacle course with normal things? Has this place never heard of a freaking road climb?!

Apparently not.

You wanted to give up out of pure exhaustion and frustration as you stumbled into the next room to be face to face with a battle bot that was at least three times your size.

You wanted to tell the damn thing to shut up as it started announcing that its systems were operational and informing you that the test would only conclude with you or it being unable to battle.

Not only were you pushing it with your quirk already but you absolutely hated using your quirk to fight, you knew that becoming a hero would mean you had to get over that distaste but you weren’t even enrolled yet and here you were.

You waited for the thing to make its first move, but it didn't. It just stood there as if it was guarding the doors raised up on eight legs like some kind of spider tank love child with a purpose.

You were tired and wanted things to be over with so you just went for it, which was a very bad idea. You soon found yourself slammed down on the ground so hard that it cracked the concrete under you and you were surprised that it didn't crack your skull too. Turns out that spider-tanks legs were all made of some kind of magnetic material so your body literally moved towards them on its own accord. Which was totally cheating in you opinion.

You moved dodging another strike that fractured the ground again and you were lucky you got away despite the fact that the thing was literally magnetically pulling your body towards it.

You had to literally dig blades into the floor for leverage to keep from being pulled under its crushing body.

How in the absolute fuck are you supposed to beat this?!

You were just attempting to not die to be honest and you weren’t doing a very good job of that either.

You were cornered with nowhere to go but over, or under it and with how tired you were there was no way you’d be making a jump like that. You did all you could do and dove under neath it and as you did you saw what would probably be your key to beating the thing.

A latch with a danger electrocution risk sticker plastered on it. If that was the things control or the way that it was creating the magnetic pull it would help either way.

You had to pace yourself, getting another chance to get under it wasn't exactly easy like that thing knew what you saw and was trying to protect it at the same time as it was trying to take you out.

It kept charging and keeping low to the ground.

But it did have a pattern you noticed, it would rear up when it was going to strike it had every single blow that it attempted to hit you with. So all you had to do was time it right.

Once you had your opening though you took it.

You weren’t exactly able to destroy it but a blade about two feet deep as you slid under it seemed to do the trick. As you stood up it didnt move from the spot it had been in standing up ready to break your bones into dust.

A soft buzzing and a beep let you know that the last door was open.

And that you’d passed the test.

AU “What are you doing inside my head?” “You can hear me too?”

Part 1

Part 2

(Dialogue “.....” Thoughts ‘...’)

It’s 14th September, fall quarter in Kyoto High School. The Senior year is stressful with making decisions about your future and preparing for exams which will decide your future. Surprise, surprise I do not use my “super powers” to cheat during tests. Okay, maybe sometimes, but not intentionally. I still can not control my mind that well to not hear other people’s thoughts, so now and then I hear some answers during tests. However, I try my best to not, therefore I study hard in order to finish test as quickly as I can that I do not hear other people.

Summer before a senior year was a wonderful time. I spent time with my family and friends. My friend Yerim (our friend group gave her a nickname Choerry, but she doesn’t like it, we still call her that to annoy her) and I went to Osaka for a week and to Tokyo for four days. We had so much fun and looked at some universities. But, summer ended and it is school-time.

I’m a morning person; I enjoy waking up before sunrise, make myself cup of coffee and watch it rises. Kyoto may be not a big city full of life, but it has it charms, and beautiful sunrises, and sunsets. The alarm rings at 5:40 a.m. I wake up really early because school starts at 8, and I take a train to get there.

I’m going straight to the bathroom to wash my face, brush my teeth and do my “skin care” (wash my face with the cleanser, put some toner on, and apply a moisturizer). My hair do not want to cooperate with me most of the time, so I just to try to make them look decent by brushing them. Done with the bathroom.

Uniform is ready and hanging in the closet. I do not really like wearing uniform but at least I don’t need to think what to wear everyday.

“Luna, breakfast is ready,” Mina says while banging on my door.

“Okay, okay stop banging. I’m coming.”

Just need to grab my backpack and my phone. While coming down the stairs I can hear mom thinking, ‘I need to make list of groceries to get for the dinner, and Minhuyng will pick up Mina from school today.’

“Good morning, mom. Good morning, dad.”

“Good morning, Luna. Please don’t forget to feed Starlight.”

“Okay, mom.”

Starlight is our cat. She is very very white, so we named her starlight.

“Dad, can we go to the comics store after school?” Mina asked.

“Sure, only if you help your mom to wash dishes.”

“Okay.”

Wow, this girl is obsessed with comics. She got passion.

“I will be home late, me and Yerim are going to the library after school to work on our science project.”

“Okay, just be careful and don’t be late for a dinner.”

“No problem, Ma.”

All of us were finishing our breakfast. And randomly dad’s thoughts popped out in my head, ‘ I need to ask Luna what to buy for Yoona’s birthday.’

I wish I could just send a message to my dad through telepathy, however, it doesn’t work like that. Every time I hear something, but people don’t hear me back. I will just tell dad later what mom wants.

It’s 7:20 I need to head out. Grab my coffee with me and go to the train station.

“Bye everyone, I already need to go!”

“Bye!”

“Good luck at school!”

I hope Yerim won’t be late again, we all the time meet each other at the train station.

I get there and of course this girl is not there yet. If we are late because of her I will murder her. Oh, I see that purple head.

“Choerry you are late again!”

“I’m sorry my brother is a dickhead and was in the bathroom for an hour, so I couldn’t even wash my face.”

Yerim thought to herself, ‘She knows I hate when she calls me Choerry. This girl will kill me one day.’

Yeah, she gets annoyed because of Choerry, but she knows I call her like that only when I’m “mad” at her.

“No worries, Yerim. We will just kill your brother and bury him in you backyard.”

“Please do so. He is just too much sometimes.”

“Our train should come in 5 minutes.”

“Good, I was so scared that you will leave without me and I will be late.”

“I would.”

“Wow. Luna, you are so mean!”

“You know I’m joking.”

“Of course, I do. After 5 years of friendship I know everything about you.”

The train came and we got inside. I don’t like to sit on the train, so me and Yerim stand next to the doors.

“Your purple hair is fading.”

“I know, they’re more pinkish right now. Are you going dye yours?”

“Mmmm I don’t know yet, I’m okay with brown for now.”

“You should go blonde.”

“I will think about it.”

I try to not hear Yerim’s thoughts, but I feel more comfortable to hear hers than some strangers on the train. ‘There are some boys from our school.’ I turned around and saw Hyunjin and Jisung from our school at the back of the train.

I said, “I didn’t know Hyunjin and Jisung take the same train as us.”

“Me either. We have been taking this train for four years and I have never seen them.”

“Maybe we just never recognized.”

“Probably. By the way did you read Nietzsche for supplement resource for philosophy.”

“Yeah, I tried to read in Japanese, but end up reading in English because translation was bad.”

“I wish my English was as good as yours. I didn’t understand shit.”

“I will help you during lunch.”

“What would I do without you, Luna?”

“I don’t know either.”

“Bruh.”

We ended up laughing.

It is our train station. We got out from the train and started waking to school.

“How’s student government?” Yerim asked.

“It’s okay, Seungmin is on mine and Ryujin’ asses.” I’m in the student government as the club in my school. It is pretty fun, but most importantly it looks good in college applications. Seungmin is the president, me and Ryujin are Vice Presidents, Sumin is the secretary, and Jaemin is the treasurer and marketing “manager”.

“Knowing Seungmin, he is.”

“Yeah, he takes his job seriously, him and Ryujin argue all the time about whose idea is better, and I’m their buffer. It’s funny to witness those fights.”

“We almost at school. I’m not ready for the morning Calculus.”

“I have AP-Calculus and still don’t know how I ended up there. I hate math.”

“It’s a mystery.”

I can see the gates of the school already. We come inside of the school and go right to the lockers.

My head gets flooded with people’s voices.

‘I forgot to do my homework. Shit.’

‘I can’t believe my parents grounded me.’

‘Where is Jisung? I need this hamster.’

Oh, that was probably Seungmin. He all the time calls Jisung hamster. I turn around and see at the end of the hallway, Seungmin. His eyes searching around for Jisung.

“Okay, you better help me with philosophy homework because Lia got sick, so you are the only English genius I know, and that dude Nietzsche doesn’t make sense in Japanese.” Ryujin says when she walks up to mine and her locker.

“Wow, so I will have a whole lecture during lunch I guess.”

“Please do.”

“Yeah, I didn’t understand it either,” Yerim says.

We part with Yerim. I and Ryujin have AP together while Yerim has calculus.

We walk into the classroom. There is not a lot of people who take AP. It’s me, Ryujin, Seungmin, Jisung, Hyunjin, Lia, and Yeji.

I sit with Ryujin on the 3rd desk.

“I have some cheeseme (tea) to spill.”

“Oh wow I’m intrigued.”

“I will tell you during lunch.”

“Okay. You spill some cheeseme and I will lecture you and Yerim.”

“Deal.”

Mr. Chen comes into the classroom and bell rings.

“Good morning, guys. Today we will start new lesson, but first we will look at the problem on page 35.” I open my textbook on page 35 and Mr. Chen starts solving the problem on the desk in order to give is an example. Everyone is quiet. I write down the example on mine notebook.

‘Fuck, I will kill Felix and Jisung. Why the hell they posted this video.’

Who was that. I look around and think on who might thought of it. It might be Seungmin or Hyunjin.

‘Seungmin will probably help me to kill them.’

Okay, that was easy to figure out. What did they do to make him so mad.

‘What?’

Mr. Chen was done with the example, so I started to copy notes from the board.

‘That’s stuff is confusing.’

Agree with that indeed.

‘What are you doing inside my head? Who are you?’

‘You can hear me too...’

Big Hero 6: The Series - Least Favorite to Favorite Episode (Season 1)

Hi, everyone! So, I love ranking episodes of shows that I really get invested into from my least favorite to favorite and I’ve been wanting to do this for awhile, so here’s my personal list of ranking the episodes from season 1 of bh6:ts from worst to best!

22. Big Hero 7 If I had to pick an episode from this season that I enjoyed the least, it would be this one. Not that this episode was terrible or anything, but I guess for myself, it seemed too predictable. Knowing that Richardson Mole was going to be the temporary seventh member of Big Hero 6, it seemed obvious that somehow he’d lose his memory by the end of the episode. Not only that, but I just don’t find Richardson to be an interesting character. Although, this episode does give me a small bit of hope that him and Fred can become friends someday. Not soon, but someday. High Voltage was pretty good in this episode though and the music was fantastic! Also, I feel like this is the one episode of the series where you if you didn’t watch it, there wasn’t even any minor details that come back in another episode. 21. Fan Friction I actually do feel bad about ranking this episode so far down the list, but if you read my review on the episode, you know why it’s here. While I enjoyed certain elements this episode had to offer, I felt really bad for Hiro. He was embarrassed by Karmi’s fanfiction of him and the others and clearly uncomfortable with all the “Karmutie” talk. I would have liked to see the nerd gang be more understanding as well. But I like that Karmi’s fanfiction inspired Hiro to create Overdrive Mode for Baymax as well as give the others ideas for their weapons. And their chibi forms were adorable! 20. Big Roommates 2 In which Honey Lemon moves into Gogo’s apartment and we’re introduced to Globby. I like that we got to see how the girls became roommates and the antics of showing how different they are which led to some bickering was understandable. But I’ll also admit that the talks about the glass being half empty/half full was getting a tad bit cheesy. Getting to see Globby’s origins was nice and he’s a very enjoyable character! Honey naturally felt bad about her purse being the cause of his transformation. While I enjoyed some of her lines while feeling very down about the situation, I felt like Honey was trying too hard to not be her usual, bubbly self. And while I was pretty confident about the quality of animation flow getting better throughout the season (which it did!) I must say this is the episode where I enjoyed the animation the least. Overall it was a decent episode. 19. Mr. Sparkles Loses His Sparkle Gotta say, I like that they took a villain that never made it in the movie and brought him in for the show. That being said, Mr. Sparkles is my least favorite villain so far. It’s probably because he’s only been in one episode (so far), but I just find the other villains to be far more interesting. However, I did enjoy how insane his game show obstacles were and would oddly want to try out for the show if it was real. It was great to see Mochi become a viral sensation! I liked his slow clap trick and how well received it was. There was also the B plot of the team needing to find a better way to get to their suits, leading to Hiro experiencing inventors block. In the end, I really love the solution of them all having a Skymax to deliver their suits when needed. Although, Hiro having inventors block felt very similar to the plot of Failure Mode. 18. Failure Mode Speaking of which, I have Failure Mode here. I admit, I’m surprised I have it this far down the list, but I think it was all a matter of just liking the other episodes more? Anyway, I did like what this episode had to offer. We got to see Hiro struggling with academics and understand that getting discouraged is okay as long as you don’t quit. It was also really nice to see Globby discover his powers and experiment with them in the best possible ways. There were some good jokes. And the Tadashi scene where we got to see him getting discouraged when another Baymax test went unsuccessful was really great. 17. Big Problem Ah, this was an interesting episode, wasn’t it? I felt that this was a nice introduction to Liv Amara. It’s definitely good to see a young female character running a successful company. I’m disappointed that she lost interest in Baymax after learning Hiro wasn’t his creator, but that’s probably for the best. Her interest in Karmi’s invention sparks jealousy in Hiro which I personally found to be understandable. But at the same time, it makes sense for Liv to want to fund Karmi’s project more since she’s a biotech major. Hiro learns a good lesson in the end though. Oh, and there’s also this rich guy that gets turned into a monster which is still currently unknown. With how the plot of this episode was, it’s hard for it to stand on its own, but (SPOILERS)...we’ll be getting some answers real soon. 16. Small Hiro One We’re introduced to two former SFIT students. One is Trevor Trengrove, a famous scientist. The other is Wendy Wower; also a scientist, but became a child entertainer. Both unique characters, but ultimately, Trevor was egotistical from the start. He holds a workshop at SFIT that everyone can attend...except Hiro who was ruled out to be too young. So, he gets stuck working as an assistant for Wendy Wower who was teaching kids (and Fred) how exciting science could be! Along the way, we learn some interesting facts. The most important one was that the thesis Trevor based his career off of belonged to Wendy. Somehow, Yama got his hands on the flash-drive that has proof of that and blackmailed him to create some new features to Mega Yama to defeat Big Hero 6. It’s not surprising to me that Trevor turned out to be a phony, but I do like that in the end, he owned up to his actions. And Wendy was very enjoyable. Despite her thesis being stolen, she still wanted to have a career and her teaching children about how fun science is is adorable. Also, the ending to this episode in which Hiro discovers that Granville taught at SFIT 20 years prior was quite the twist. 15. Aunt Cass Goes Out An entertaining episode. I thought it was interesting that Hiro decided that Aunt Cass should go out on a date so she’d be less likely to discover his superhero identity. It’s definitely not the correct solution, but seeing Hiro going through a dating site and deeming none of the men on there right for his aunt to be adorable. While Krei doesn’t deserve Aunt Cass in the slightest, I’m surprised that the date didn’t go worse than it could have. They had a common interest and kept his cool to impress her, but let’s face it. His true love is money. Or at least letting people know how rich he is. There may not have been an actual villain to face, but it was a nice change of pace to have a surprise party loving scientist be our antagonist. It was so sweet seeing Hiro being so protective of Cass and we can only hope he’ll learn to be more cautious with hiding his superhero identity. 14. Muirahara Woods An action-packed filler that was hard not to enjoy. I can’t blame Hiro and Fred for being curious as to what Gogo does when she’s on her own, but come on. Let the girl have her privacy. But their wacky adventures in the woods was hilarious. Hiro has a difficult time considering he’s more of a city guy. It doesn’t help that their tech stopped working the further they got into the woods, but Ned Ludd was there to help. I liked his backstory and that he also keeps a meteor (Bessie) which is the cause of the tech not working. He hates technology which leads to a malfunctioning Baymax getting taken by him. This is what I like about the episode. The team feels that things have been too easy for them lately, but Ned gave them a challenge. They had to be resourceful in order to get Baymax back and I loved that their weapons were as close to their regular weapons as could be. 13. Issue 188 Ahhh yes. The episode that introduced us to Karmi, High Voltage and Richardson Mole. It was cool to see that Granville paired up Hiro and Karmi for an assignment where he’s supposed to learn from her socialization experience. However, we quickly learn that she’s very antisocial. I like how she talks to her viruses. High Voltage are an electric mother-daughter duo that aren’t easy for Big Hero 6 to beat. But Fred believes the solution to their problems lies in a Captain Fancy comic. He may not own Issue 188, but Richardson Mole (an annoying 11 year old and Fred’s rival) does! I know I mentioned it with Big Hero 7, but I love High Voltage’s music. They’re great villains and this was a good introduction for them! As for Karmi, while I’m more than aware of how split the opinions are of her, I like her. She may not be nice to Hiro, but I do enjoy that she thinks Hiro likes her when in reality, she has a crush on his superhero persona not knowing it’s actually him. 12. Fred’s Bro-Tillion I’ve seen people not really liking this episode and it makes me sad! While this episode isn’t quite in my Top 10, it’s an episode that I really like a lot. It’s an episode that had a very nostalgic vibe to it. That may possibly be because Baron Von Steamer was our villain, but I loved how well this episode tied into things together. Fred learned how to dance because of Baymax and used those dance moves to defeat Steamer. Steamer himself was a really exciting villain and I love that he’s an arch nemesis to Fred’s dad. Before the team suited up, they had to attempt defeated Steamer in their catering attire which you all know I love. There were lots of good jokes as well. 11. Steamer’s Revenge Speaking of Steamer, his second appearance is right above his first. The two major plots to this episode were both equally enjoyable in my opinion. We have Fred who doesn’t feel like he’ll measure up to his dad in a superhero sense. I found that to be a realistic insecurity for him. He looks up to his father and loves the superhero world. He just wants to be like his dad and make him proud. And he literally had to be like his dad by dressing up as him to fool Steamer. It’s amazing how self aware Steamer was of him realizing that Boss Awesome defeats him because he always reveals his plans to him. And the giant statue of Boss Awesome being a Steamer weapon was a great twist. There was also the plot of it being Wasabi’s birthday and that went very well. I thought it was really sweet that the others got Wasabi’s car out of the bay, fixed it up and even upgraded it for him. 10. Baymax Returns The one hour pilot episode made its way to the number 10 spot! This was an incredibly satisfying first episode in many ways. It’s an immediate continuation from the events in the movie. The amount of references to the movie were great! We already get to see more the nerd gang’s personalities shine. We’re introduced to Granville who is an amazing professor and dean to SFIT. We’re reintroduced to Yama who’s working for our main season 1 villain. We got to see the process of Hiro rebuilding Baymax which I felt was a very important thing to watch. It’s good to see that it didn’t come as easy to him as he assumed. The conversation at the end with Hiro and Granville is still one of my favorite scenes. And at the very end, we’re introduced to the big bad Obake. 9. Food Fight I said I wanted more Aunt Cass and boy did this episode deliver. Cass gets herself unintentionally involved in a food fighting competition and it was amazing! She was truly in her element and enjoying herself. Again, we get to see Hiro being protective and worried for her which is always very sweet. We were also introduced to Momakase in this episode who is definitely one of my favorite villains! Cass managing to defeat her in the food fight was fantastic! And I love that Gordon Ramsay voiced a character in this episode! 8. Killer App What an exciting episode. We meet Noodle Burger Boy who starts out as the lovable mascot of Noodle Burger. But Obake turns him into a violent robot that can predict every move Big Hero 6 meets. NBB is pretty high up my villains list and seeing how quickly he turned evil and everything he can do is very useful. We also get to see Hiro and Wasabi clash while working on a project. I really do like that they both immediately didn’t want to work together instead of thinking it’d go well and despite many disagreements, they were able to come up with a good idea. Not only that, but seeing how well they worked together by switching suits in battle was incredible! And by the end of the episode, Obake knows the identities of the whole team! 7. Rivalry Weak Well this episode was a huge surprise! What sounded like a fun, comical episode of our main cast pranking the rival school SFAI quickly turned to a mystery starting to be unraveled. At SFAI, we discover a hidden room that belonged to Lenore Shimamoto. Honey Lemon learns that her idol was not only an artist, but a scientist too and had formulas that were way advanced given the time period. But she’s not the only fan of her. Obake is a fan as well and this is the episode where the team comes face to face with him for the first time! Definitely unexpected, but not a disappointment in the slightest. The tests he put our team up to was very clever and signing Shimamoto’s journal at the end was a nice touch. 6. Mini-Max What an adorable character, am I right? I like that despite Mini-Max being built to keep Fred out of trouble on solo missions, Fred sees him as a sidekick. And they actually work very well together. Mini-Max is for sure a useful character to have around. But thankfully, this episode had more to offer than a lovable, smaller looking version of Baymax. Hiro is suspicious of Granville for all the right reasons and seeing him spy on her led to amazing scenes with them. Seriously, the scenes between Hiro and Granville have been some of my favorites in the show! We learn that Granville left SFIT 20 years ago because of an incident that happened with a former student. She learned that even geniuses needed limits and later on, Hiro assures her that she won’t end up like that former student. But of course, my personal favorite scene (so far) happened in this episode and I can’t stress enough how much I love and appreciate the scene between Hiro and Callaghan. It was well written, emotional and showed how mature Hiro is. 5. The Bot Fighter I really didn’t expect much more of the bot-fighting world to be explored in the show, but can’t complain. Hiro returned to his roots for undercover reasons, but he does get sucked back into the world of bot-fighting. The culprit of this is Trina, a young bot-fighter who is self taught and claimed to watch all of Hiro’s matches. Now, I definitely get why some people wouldn’t enjoy the romantic parts scattered within the episode and it’s understandable why. But I found it to actually not weaken this episode. Why? Hiro’s crush on Trina wasn’t the main focus of the episode for starters. Even if Trina influenced him back into bot-fighting, it was also him missing that world that kept him from trying to find out if Yama was the one creating bad robots. Not only that, but we learn that Trina is an android. An android that Obake created. We know that he’s been watching the team, especially Hiro, for quite some time. Attempting to get Hiro on his side, he was trying to lure Hiro back into an old habit and used the image of a girl to do so. But for it to be successful, he designed Trina to have a personality that he knew Hiro would be compatible with. That being said, I loved that we saw more bot-fighting. We got a really sweet Tadashi scene. We got an adorable, supportive group hug. And we got a huge plot twist at the end of the episode where Trina called Obake her father and then it was revealed that she was a robot. All in all, great episode. 4. The Impatient Patient Hiro being sick was everything I had always hoped it would be. We got to see Hiro not surprisingly being stubborn due to catching a cold and trying to prove that an illness can’t slow him down. Except it can because he ended up getting tossed in a dumpster, resulting in a broken leg. So yeah, Hiro being sick and injured was highly entertaining. It was a real treat to see Baymax taking care of him and those visits to the doctor were hysterical. While we’ve only seen the Mad Jacks once, I really enjoyed them and I’m hoping we get to see them again. And Hiro ending up coming with that suit where he could have a video image of his face was awesome! Oh, and how can we forget just how amazing Obake was in this episode? He played Krei and the Mad Jacks like it was a game of chess and because of that, he discovered Hiro’s identity which was so chilling! 3. Kentucky Kaiju Ohhh boy oh boy do I love this episode! It was interesting to see that Hiro doubted himself due to not having a super power. But what made that doubt even better was that Obake had that doubt planted into him. So he creates super strength with a smart fabric that backfires horribly. I thought it was hilarious that he couldn’t get the suit off! Fred also gets an actual sized Kentucky Kaiju robot made which also goes wrong when NBB installs a CPU into it. This leads to one of, if not, my favorite battle in the show so far. The team has to face off against the kaiju and it was an insane battle to say the least! Hiro is able to use his super strength for a short time, but what makes the fight at its best is when Hiro only needs his genius brain to outsmart it! Fred’s dad giving him the advice of finding his true strength was very helpful and it only made Obake more interested in Hiro. 2. Obake Yashiki YOU ALL KNOW WHY THIS EPISODE IS SO HIGH UP THE LIST. One word. Tadashi. Okay, well it’s actually not the real Tadashi, but I’ll take an evil augmented reality Tadashi. When I first heard about this episode, I could not have been more excited. It was obvious from the beginning that this Tadashi wasn’t real, but how everything went down in this episode was amazing from start to finish. I loved that it was a Halloween episode. I love that Obake used the nerd gang’s biggest fears against them. I loved seeing NBB working with the Buddy Guards to steal the giant magnet. And most of all, I loved all the Tadashi scenes and Hiro eventually realizing it wasn’t him. That part where the logo on his hat changes to Obake’s logo and Obake’s voice comes out of Tadashi’s mouth was so terrifying and I LOVED IT! So...with an episode that I enjoyed so much, I wondered how could anything possibly top it?? 1. Countdown To Catastrophe BY HAVING AN EPIC SEASON 1 FINALE THAT’S HOW!! This finale was a great ending to our first season in so many ways. I don’t know where to start considering so much happened! I’ll just state everything I really loved. Hiro creating an energy amplifier which is what Obake created when he was the student at SFIT who Granville taught 20 years prior. That emotion in the scene between Hiro and Granville when she discovered what he was trying to make OMG SO GOOD. Finding out that Lenore Shimamoto caused The Great Catastrophe. Obake’s big plan being recreating it. Obake and Granville coming face to face again. His real name being Bob Aken. NBB putting a chip in Baymax making him evil. Baymax taking Hiro to Obake’s lair and him revealing that he wants to reshape the city and have Hiro as his student. Globby becoming a good guy. Everyone having to work together to stop the star from blowing up the entire city. Obake watching his dream die and as his lair collapses, he turns Baymax back to normal and decides to die with his dream. Seriously, that ending was so sad BUT SUCH AN INCREDIBLE SCENE IT WAS DONE SO WELL!!!! Yet another really nice conversation between Hiro and Granville. Granville calling Hiro by his first name and wondering what happened to Obake. It was all so good! I can’t put into words how much I loved this finale and how emotional I felt when it was over.

So, there’s my season 1 ranking episodes. I’m looking forward to season 2 tomorrow! :D

Early Mornin’

Paring: Markus/Reader

Tags: gender neutral reader, no pronouns used for reader, meet-cute, domestic fluff, like the fluffiest fluff you've ever seen fluffed, post-pacifist best ending, Markus (Detroit: Become Human) needs a hug, blood and injury, blue blood, angst with a happy ending.

Summary: After the war, the both of you deserve to sleep in, and snuggle.

Word Count: 1,570

Current Date: 2019-01-04

If you were to be completely frank on the subject, you loved early mornings. You had always loved them, and now, after the riots in Detroit led by the people of Jericho, it felt good to relax in the morning. When you spoke about your love of them, though, people would be confused, confounded, unsure by your words. Early mornings suck! you heard often enough, why wouldn’t you just prefer to stay in bed?

But that was the things - you loved early mornings…in bed.

Especially in the wintertime, when the frost bit at the window frames beyond the confines of the flannelette sheet-strewn bed, where the house was warmed by electricity and comfort. The skies would be dark in the morning, just like they were the night before, and you loved looking into the darkness at just after five thirty in the morning, seeing shapes that could barely be deciphered by the naked human eye.

Despite your love for early mornings, the man who you loved, well, the android-man who you loved, did not have a fondness for them. Markus was a busy man, always working on something more than another. It led to lots of things - sadly, the death of Mr. Carl Manfred, the uprising that he had managed to make into the hallmarks of history…and, the marginalisation of your love of early morning snuggles.

But it wasn’t ever said that he didn’t love time with you.

You had met Markus in the town square, where you had witnessed an anti-android protest gone wrong. The android with the close-cropped hair wandered too close to the demonstration of the angry masses, and you watched, aghast. The threw him around, kicked him, called him names that made your blood boil. You’re not sure what made you do it, but you sprung to action, and toward the android.

“Markus,” you cried out the name that was printed on the back of his jacket, moving to help him up, “Come now, I’ll be late for the appointment.”

“Is this your plastic fuck?” a protester sneered.

“Well, I don’t care.” Another chimed in. “We’re going to teach it a lesson.”

Luckily then, a police officer stepped in, and diffused the situation. Before too long, you were walking off with the RK200 model, unscathed. You stopped at the bus stop, and the android turned to you, looking you in the eyes with its green ones.

“Why did you do that?” He asked you.

You frowned, considering your hands. “I’m not quite sure.” You reply honestly. “Perhaps, because it’s wrong for those people to act like that toward you?” You take a deep breath, and add, softly, you add, “Or because it’s wrong to stand by and watch bad things as it happens?”

The android nodded. “Either way, thank you for your actions…”

“_________.” You reply quickly. “I’m sorry if calling you by your name earlier was wrong. I’ve never had an android, I really don’t understand the etiquette -,”

“It was fine, _________.” The bus pulled up, and Markus moved toward the end, where the Android’s Only compartment was located. It was then when you realised that you couldn’t follow him any longer, and you gave him a small wave. “Good bye, _________.”

“Goodbye, Markus.” You bid, feeling like you’d never see him again…he had such a distinct face, too…

In the dimness that seeped through the window of your shared apartment, you saw the hints of the beginnings of sunrise. It was too early to be fully awake, but by the time it was eight o’clock, when the sun sat comfortably in the sky, you’d be ready.

Too bad today, you stirred a little too much to your boyfriend’s liking.

“Remember how we met?” you asked him, your voice crackling a little from disuse in the night.

“Go back to sleep, _________.” Markus grumbled.

It took weeks after the death of your favourite artist Carl Manfred to lift the burden of sadness that made you feel so gloomy. You spent most of it locked in your apartment, neglecting your canvases and commissions. He had been a mentor to you when you had been younger, and he hadn’t been in the wheelchair - he had inspired you to become who you were. In the time after hearing about his death, you barely spoke to anyone for days, but when you found the strength to leave the apartment, you did. From being at home for so long, you’d exhausted all your resources - food, essential supplies…

So, you went to the town square to stock up. You had just begun to place fresh foods in your basket at the supermarket when you saw a familiar face outside, through the shop window. The android of which you had met earlier in the year, Markus. In a dream-like daze, you returned the items to the shelf, and exited the shop empty-handed, gravitating toward him. If he were the sun, you were Icarus, willing to be burnt.

There were other androids with him, many more than you had ever seen congregated together in the same area, ever. There was a model that you remember from university, a woman with golden honey-red hair, and so many more flanking his sides. As you neared, you realised that his face was devoid of the LED that had been there before. No flashing blue-to-yellow, no light.

He looked so very human.

“_________?” he spoke your name with a conviction that you hadn’t heard in his tone in the last time that you had spoken. You’d heard of deviant androids, and you suspected that he had broken free as well. His eyes lit up at the sight of you, “What are you doing here?”

“Are you marching?” you asked him.

He nodded, looking toward the massive billboard to the right of the gathering. In seconds, it flickered from its advertising picture of the football team to a picture, a logo. You smiled at the sight of it.

“This is dangerous,” he told you, voice low.

“What else is new?” you replied, and turning to the android beside you, a blonde man, you linked arms with him, and the university lecturer. “Hey,” you told them, “I’m _________.”

“Simon,” the blonde replied.

“Josh,” the other said.

“It’s wonderful to meet you all,” you told them, and you meant it.

Even though you loved him with all your heart, trusted him as your leader as a part of the uprising, and admired him equally, you didn’t listen. Instead, you shuffled, so very quietly, toward his side of the bed. He looked so human, in these moments - no LED, the slight warmth within the sheets, and his breathing, so soft.

You slot yourself into his arms, and place your head on his shoulder, you let out a small breath.

“Are you comfortable?” he asks you, voice low. It’s a different voice to what he usually uses, when speaking to the people of Jericho - it’s calm, kind. There’s the authority to it, yes, but with you, it isn’t trying to rally the people. Just show you how much he cares. “_________?”

You chuckle, nudging his face with your own. Your cheeks brush his own, the hint of a smile on your face. “Oh, you know I am,” you reply, your voice cheekily soft.

“I mean, if you weren’t, I’d -,” you cut Markus’ words off with a kiss, deftly placed just beside his mouth, beside his lips. “Is that how we’re playing this now?” he asks you, a small smile upon his face. His words are daring, but the way he spoke them, you know he’s messing with you.

When you found him in the stronghold outside the camp, you pressed yourself into the wall, where all the journalists stood. There were guns trained on the people on the other side, but that didn’t stop you. Nothing could stop you from being there for Markus. You hadn’t had the chance to tell him of your feelings, but by the look of things, it would be now or never. None of the people with their cameras paid you any mind as you straddled the fence, and once on the other side, you mentally thanked the bullet-proof vest you’d managed to buy from the internet. They fired at the people in the barricade, like fish in a barrel, but once you were over the next wall, you didn’t care if you’d be shot. You had to be there.

For Markus.

“_________! Get out of here!” Markus called to you, his tone aghast.

A bullet whizzed by your arm, grazing where the vest didn’t protect your shoulder. You wince, feeling the sting of pain. The soldiers pause, halting their fire. You’re not sure if it’s because of their orders, or because they see you, and are seeing the blood drip down your arm, a colour that they weren’t expecting.

You walk toward Markus, but it’s him who cradles you, his blue-blood stained hands clutching you close. Close enough to hear his breathing, feel it on your face, his lips -

His lips on yours.

“If you don’t want early morning kisses, be my guest,” you grin into his synthetic skin, feeling it graze on your own.

He laughs into your hair, holding you closer. “I’d have them forever, with you.” He states and asks, “if that works for you?”

You nod, feeling almost giddy with your happiness, “Yeah, that works for me, Mr. Rebellion.”

Together

A Drarry Fanfic

Draco finds out about the Dursley's treatment of Harry after Harry reveals a secret during one of their fights. Words: 3.5k  Find it on aos

“Scorpius! Albus! Get over here right now!” Draco’s voice thundered through the house, but he didn’t care. Someone had gotten paint all over the rug upstairs. The expensive carpet that his mother had bought him and Harry for their wedding

The floorboards shook as the twins ran up the stairs at lightning speed, not willing to anger their father more by taking their time. Draco and Harry had adopted them a year after they married. The boys looked extremely similar, but not identical. Albus’s hair was a shade darker than Scorpius’s, and he was about an inch taller. They were Draco’s pride and joy, and only a year from going to Hogwarts.

“Would one of you like to explain why, when I came upstairs, I found paint smeared all over my favorite rug?” Silence. Utterly frustrating silence. “Which one of you did it? It had to be one of you,” It took all his self-control not to curse or raise his voice to a complete yell. Again, he was met with silence and two guilty looks. “Fine, then you can go to your rooms until you are willing to talk.”

Both boys slunk away to their respective rooms, not daring to speak. Draco ran a rough hand through his hair, and let out a sigh. It was nothing a quick Scourgify couldn’t fix, and he mumbled the spell under his breath with a quick flick of his wand. What angered him was that the boys hadn’t said anything about it and that they didn’t own up to it.

It was days like these when Draco missed Harry the most. With his promotion in the Auror Department, he was hardly home anymore during the week. Not that Draco minded staying at home with the kids. He loved Albus and Scorpius, and he loved spending time with them and getting the chance to watch them grow. But he loved doing that with Harry by his side, not by himself.

Draco ate dinner alone that night, too stubborn to take back what he had said to the boys. They had to be taught their lesson, and if he gave into them, they would never learn to own up to their mistakes. They could have breakfast in the morning.

Harry didn’t come home until late around midnight. Large bags hung underneath his eyes, his hair was a mess, and his normally crazy hair stuck to his head from sweat. This was how he came home many nights, but Draco was still not used to the air of exhaustion that hung around Harry.

Draco met Harry at the door, waiting until he dropped his bag and took off his cloak to give him a hug and peck on the cheek.

“I missed you,” Draco whispered, not caring about the dirt and sweat that was transferring onto his robes.

“I missed you too,” Harry said. Draco stepped back and cast a quick scourgify and freshening charm on Harry. It couldn’t replace a shower, but it would be good enough for the moment.

“Want any dinner?” Harry nodded and followed him towards the kitchen. Draco cast a heating charm on the leftovers from his lonely dinner and set them in front of Harry. He made tea in an attempt to keep his hands busy. All he wanted to do was take Harry right there and then, but he knew he couldn’t do that. Harry was too tired to do anything but eat, shower, and sleep. Just like always.

“You’re amazing, Draco. Thank you.” The words ease the tension in his chest a bit. Draco set the teacups down on the table and kissed Harry’s cheek, grimacing at the roughness of his stubble.

“Of course, love.” He took a sip of his tea, contemplating what he wanted to say next. Should he mention Albus and Scorpius’s punishment? Harry wouldn’t find out if he didn’t tell him, and he was stressed enough as it was. There was no need to bother him with the misbehaving of their kids. Besides, he had dealt with it, hadn’t he? “You look exhausted. When was the last time you got a decent nights sleep?” Harry shook his head.

“Since before I got promoted. Everything is going into chaos; half the department is at St. Mungo’s since our last case, which means our resources are extremely limited. It’ll be better in a few months once everything settles down.”

Draco nodded in understanding, even though he wanted to scream in frustration. That’s what Harry said every time he brought up his promotion. That it would get better. But it never did. It only got worse. Harry just got more tired and more frustrated.

“You need to quit,” Draco blurted out. Harry looked up sharply.

“Draco, we’ve talked about this. I can’t just-”

“No, you listen. You’re working yourself to the bone. You haven’t spent time with the kids since you got promoted. There are others who need you. When was the last time you talked to Ron? Hermione? When was the last time you slept for more than 4 hours or had a decent shower?” He shook his head, “You’re trying to play hero again. You don’t have to be the hero for everyone all the time. Sometimes its enough to be the hero for your friends, for yourself. ”

“The kids are sleeping. I don’t want to fight with you right now Draco.”

“When are we going to talk about this then? You don’t get home until midnight half the time, and the other half you’re too tired to say more than a few words.” Harry sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m going to shower. Thank you for dinner.” Draco shook his head.

“The kids asked for you to say goodnight to them. At least visit them, please?”

With a nod, Harry left him alone and went upstairs. Rubbing his temples in frustration, Draco summoned the Firewhiskey and poured himself a glass. Why did Harry have to be so damn stubborn? Why couldn’t he see that Draco needed him?

The familiar warmth of Firewhiskey spread through his body. Draco’s head buzzed slightly, and he savored the slight numbness the drink brought.

Footsteps thundered down the stairs, making him spin around in shock. Harry stalked towards Draco, a piercing glare pointed right at him.

“That was a quick shower,” Draco commented, not sure what had angered Harry.

Not deigning to respond, Harry walked past him and pulled two plates out of the cupboard and without a word, made two PB&J sandwiches.

“Who are those for?” Draco asked. Harry looked up and glared at him.

“Our children, who you, apparently, left starving in their rooms for half the night.” His voice was sharp and cold, not leaving room for contradiction.

Draco scoffed. “I didn’t starve them. They went to bed without dinner because they wouldn’t own up to spilling paint on the rug. I was going to give them breakfast.”

“So starving them was your first resort? The rug is fine, Malfoy.” When they had married, they both took the surname Malfoy-Potter since Malfoy had proposed. They only went back to their individual last names when they were really mad at each other.

“They wouldn’t own up to it! We can’t let them get away with everything in life. Otherwise, they’ll never learn.”

“This isn’t up for discussion,” Harry said, voice filled with venom. “Now I’m going to go bring our kids these sandwiches, and try and convince them that you’re not going to make them stay in their rooms forever and let them die.”

“What-”

“Whats next, huh? Are you going to beat them? Stick them in cupboards as my aunt and uncle did me?”

Shocked speechless, Draco sat there and stared at Harry, who had angry tears running down his face.

“When I agreed to raise Albus and Scorpius with you, I thought I could trust you to take care of them when I couldn’t.” Harry picked up the plates and started walking to the stairs. “I guess I was wrong.” The words were like a sharp blade thrusted into Draco’s heart.

It wasn’t until the clock chimed three that Draco stood from his seat and went to lay down on the couch. It wasn’t until four that he fell asleep

He woke up the next morning to the sound of the stairs creaking. Groaning, he sat up and stretched out his back while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“We should talk,” Harry said. His voice was softer then it was last night, but it still didn’t hold the same warmth it typically did.

Draco nodded, ignoring the pain in his head. He patted the spot next to him on the couch, hoping Harry would still sit next to him even if he were in a bad mood. The sofa dipped as Harry tentatively sat down.

“I don’t know what to ask you.” Draco whispered, “I have so many questions, and I don’t know the right ones to ask.” Harry nodded. “Are the boys alright?”

“They’re fine. They didn’t fall asleep last night until 1, so they’ll probably sleep in for a few more hours.” Draco nodded. “I owe you an explanation for last night.”

“And I owe you an apology.” Draco had gotten better at apologies through the years. They were still hard for him, but he knew when one was needed. And this was one of those times.

“Me first.”

“No,” Draco paused. “I was a dick and unfair to you and the boys. I shouldn’t have done that. I was just angry, angry at you, and at them, and at myself. It’s a shitty excuse, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I yelled at you. You’re doing a fucking fantastic job at the ministry, and I couldn’t be prouder of you. I just worry about you. I worry if you still care about the kids if you still care about me and the life we’ve created together. I’m sorry I was so terrible yesterday, you didn’t deserve that after coming back from work.” He glanced down at Harry’s pajamas. “Are you not going today?”

Harry smiled. “Not for a long time.”

“You quit?”

“With the Malfoy and Potter fortunes combines, I think we can handle a few years without either of us working. I sent my resignation letter last night.”

Draco grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Thank you,” he whispered. Harry nodded.

“I’m sorry too. I completely overreacted last night. You were just trying to look out for me. You’ve been doing so much around here, and I haven’t shown an ounce of gratitude. You’re a great parent, Draco, and I wouldn’t want to raise our children with anyone else.”

Draco’s lips curved into a small smile.  “You mentioned something about your aunt and uncle?” Harry froze, and Draco quickly backtracked. “I’m sorry, nevermind. We don’t have to talk about that. You had said some things, and I wasn’t sure if I had-”

“No, Draco. I need to tell you. I’ve been meaning to. I didn’t want you to find out like that, though.”

“Find out what?”

“My aunt and uncle weren’t the nicest of people” Harry started, grimacing. “Well, they were. Only to my cousin though.”

“You’ve never talked about them before. Are they the muggles you stayed with every summer?”

“Yeah,” Harry’s voice was quiet. Not the mad quiet that it had been last night. Scared quiet. “I’m never told anyone this before, not even Ron or Hermione. So bare with me, ok?”

“Of course.” Draco drew soothing circles on Harry’s hand and scooched closer so that he could hold Harry in a comforting embrace. “Take as much time you need.”

Harry was silent for a few moments. “My aunt and uncle hated anything that wasn’t normal, so you can imagine their disgust when I appeared on their doorstep.” Harry scoffed, “Dumbledore left me there the night my parents died with a letter. He didn’t even stay to see if they brought me inside or not. ”

“He just left you outside and left?” Draco asked, frustration bubbling in his stomach. “What if someone had taken you? What if you froze?”

“Would’ve made their lives a lot easier, I reckon. They hated me from the second they found me, and tried their best for the next ten years to squash the magic out of me.”

Confused, Draco wrapped his arms around Harry tighter. “What do you mean?”

Harry swallowed thickly. “My aunt raised my cousin to hate me, pretty much. So when she and my uncle couldn’t deal with me, he was constantly watching for me to do something wrong or ‘freakish.’ And when I learned what to do and what not to do, he ended up just making up stuff to get me in trouble.”

“He and his friends made a game called ‘Harry-hunting” where they basically chased me down and beat me to a pulp.”

“Did he ever get in trouble for it?” Draco already knew the answer, but maybe-

“No, he would always get away with it by telling my aunt he caught me doing something freakish. She would give him a prize or something for it and send me to my cupboard until my uncle came home.”

Draco’s mind was reeling. A prize? For beating up someone? And wait-a cupboard? “Cu-cupboard?” He seriously didn’t mean he slept in a bloody cupboard, of all places.

“Yeah.” Harry’s voice was becoming softer, more hesitant. “They didn’t want to give me Dudley’s second bedroom, so I had the cupboard. It was my room ‘till I got my first Hogwarts letter.” Draco’s face grew angrier, and he had to make a conscious effort not to squeeze Harry’s hand too hard. “I mean, it wasn’t that big of a deal. It fit me fine until I was 9 or so. I was always a small kid, so it wasn’t ever too cramped.”

“You slept in a bloody cupboard for ten years, and you don’t consider it a big deal?” Harry flinched, and Draco immediately felt bad. “I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet. You can keep going if you want.”

“No, no, you’re ok. Just give me a second.” Harry took a deep breath. Draco mindlessly drew patterns on his back with his fingers. “My aunt made me do all the chores around the house since I was 6. I had a list every day, and if I didn’t finish all of them perfectly, she would tell my uncle and lock me in the cupboard. I cooked all their meals ever since I was tall enough to reach the stove. Everything had to be perfect. Normal.”

“They made you work like a fucking house elf,” Draco muttered. “And then punished you for not doing everything? You were 6!” When he got his hands on them, he would make them regret ever setting a hand on Harry.

“I was a fast learner.” Harry said defensively, “I kind of had to be, you learn quickly when you don’t get to eat for not washing the windows.” He flinched.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Draco whispered, “They had no right to do that to you.”

“That didn’t stop them, did it?” Harry asked bitterly. “My uncle, he-he” his voice cracked, and Harry went silent for a moment. “He was the worst.”

Draco couldn’t imagine what could have been worse than his cousin and aunt, but let Harry continue uninterrupted.

“He worked for most of the day, so I only saw him at nights and on the weekends,” Harry winced again, making Draco’s heartache for his pain. “Weekends were the worst because I was  left alone with him all day.”

“What did he do to you?” Draco whispered, nervous at the hollow sound of Harry’s voice.

“It was routine for him to come home and listen to Dudley and Aunt Petunia take turns blaming me for whatever I did and didn’t do that day. I would cook dinner for them, he would deal with me, and I would sleep in my cupboard for the rest of the night.”

“Deal with you?”

“Yeah,” Harry’s voice shook. Draco hadn’t heard him sound that afraid in years. “He-he thought that he could beat the magic out of me if he did it hard enough and often enough.”

“He beat you?” Draco whispered, shocked. He had heard a rumor here and there, but they were just rumors from untrustworthy sources. Pure speculation. Yet…

“Yeah.” Harry took a deep breath. “He would throw me around a bit, throw a few punches and kicks here and there. He liked to hit me with his belt a lot. My magic helped a lot of scars go away but…” He looked up at Draco. His green eyes sparkled with a vulnerability that left Draco speechless. “Well, you’ve seen them. Ron and Hermione have too when we were hunting Horcruxes. I just let you all believe they were from the tournament and the war.”

“That bastard,” Draco hissed, “hit you enough to leave scars that have lasted for more than ten years?”

“I told you, he hoped that if he did it enough, he would beat the magic out of me.” Harry shook his head, “I had always been confused when I was younger. I had never been allowed to say ‘magic’ or anything like that. I just knew I was a freak that did freakish things.”

“You aren’t a freak,” Draco mumbled into Harry’s exposed shoulder. “They were wrong.”

Harry shrugged. “He gave me the harshest punishments. My aunt normally only made me go a day or two without food. If he was mad, he would throw me in the cupboard after a beating and leave me in there for a week without food. My aunt would sometimes slip me scraps, and I could sometimes sneak out to get something from the pantry, but if I was caught, it was another week in the cupboard.”

Draco felt his heart drop. No wonder Harry had been so mad the night before. He had seen Draco as his uncle. As his sick, abusive uncle. His stomach flopped with guilt.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Draco looked straight into Harry’s eyes, showing him that he was serious. “I’m not like him. I promise. I would never do that to our kids. I’m sorry that I did yesterday, I was angry, and I had no right, and I won’t do it ever again. I promise.”

Harry shook his head and brought his hand to cup Draco’s cheek. “No, don’t apologize. I overreacted. Maybe it wasn’t right, but I know you aren’t abusive. You’ve been such a kind, loving dad to those boys. I know you aren’t like him.”

Draco still felt guilty but didn’t say anything. He merely pecked Harry on the lips, savoring the moment. He would avenge the Dursley’s treatment of Harry, but that could wait for another day.

“I was always afraid of being like him,” Harry said in a timid voice. “He was all I knew growing up. I never had a loving father to look up to, not until I met Mr. Weasley. And by then it was almost too late. Those ideals and punishments had already been driven into my head.”

“Is that why you were so hesitant adopting Albus and Scorpius?” Harry nodded.

“Yeah, but then I decided that if you of all people would be able to keep me in check. You wanted them too much to let me, or anyone for that matter, hurt them.”

“That may be the smartest idea you have ever had.” Draco shook his head. “I love you, Harry. You know that, right? You didn’t deserve anything they did to you, and I swear I’m going to make them pay.”

“No, Draco, please. Don’t risk it. They’re not worth it.” Draco rolled his eyes.

“Avenging what they did to you is worth it. Maybe in a few years though, catch them by surprise.”

“I don’t want to risk you going to Azkaban for killing muggles, Draco. We have kids, remember?”

“Fine.” With a resigned sigh, Draco leaned back into Harry’s arms that had wrapped around him. “Can I visit them though? Rub your success in their faces? Make them feel guilty?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Harry said gently, “and I doubt anything you say will make them feel guilty.” Draco raised his eyebrow. “Ok, fine. Just don’t torture them or anything.”

“Whatever pleases you, dear.” Draco kissed Harry again. “The kids will be up soon.”

Harry sat up straighter to stretch out his back. “I’ll make us all some breakfast.”

Draco shook his head, pushing Harry back on the couch. “You had an exhausting day yesterday and little to no sleep. You rest, I’ll make breakfast.”

“You did too, Draco. I haven’t made breakfast in weeks-”

“I haven’t made you breakfast in weeks.” Draco retorted. Harry sighed, before brightening up with an idea.

“Why don’t we cook together?” Harry asked, hope seeping through his words. “We haven’t done that in months.” Draco’s lips spread into a broad smile.

“I like the sound of that.”

Week 11

(A bit late)

Placement 1 has ended!

I am sad about this despite the exclamation mark. I decided to scrap the SOW for Year 7 in this last week. I kept the topic, poetry by heart, but devised my own week of lessons. As I was going to ask the students to learn a poem by heart I thought it only fair (my partner persuaded me) to learn a poem by heart myself. I was going to ask them to write poems about winter so I went about finding a wintry poem I could learn and perform to them. I had Gillian Clarke’s collection Ice which proved to be a better resource than anything google could find. I chose Snow:

We’re brought to our senses

Awake to the black and whiteness of world.

Snow’s sensational. It tastes of ice and fire.

Hold a handful of cold,

Ball it between your palms to throw

at the moon. Relish it’s plushy creak

Shake blossoms from chestnut and beech

Gather its laundered linen in your arms.

A twig of witch hazel from the ghost garden

burns like myrrh in this room. Listen!

Ice is whispering. Night darkens.

The mercury falls in the glass, glistening.

Motorways muffled in silence. Lorries stranded

like dead birds. Airports closed. Trains trackless.

White paws lope the river on plates of ice

In the city’s bewildered wilderness.

I keep practising it because I don’t want to forget it. There might be mistakes in the above, especially the structure, because I don’t remember the structure very well. The Year 7s enjoyed my reading, although they still don’t understand the etiquette of clapping. I told them about going to see Alice Oswald the week before and they couldn’t believe that she’d learnt a poem by heart and performed it for an hour. They really enjoyed me just telling them about going to see Alice Oswald. It was the most absorbed and focussed I’d seen them. I think if you begin your sentence with ‘I have a story to tell you...’ it’s a reliable way to gain attention. Also, not to brag, but I think I am good at telling stories, even if they are just about going to a poetry reading. Anyway, I got them all planning, drafting and editing four line poems about winter and in my final lesson with them I got them to stand around the room in a big circle and perform one after the other. About eight had learnt it by heart; everyone had tried their best to learn it by heart. I played a YouTube video of a snow storm scene in the background. It was just a view off the side of a mountain with a tree and lots of snow and wind but they really loved it; it was very atmospheric. I played it every lesson and during the performance. When I put it on in the last lesson one of them said ‘yeah we get to watch the video again’ despite the fact that it was a nearly still image of a tree. It was a very calming visual and sound, for me if not anyone else. When I announced that it was my last lesson some of them seemed bothered, some of them were just bobbing around in their own world still, seemingly totally oblivious. One boy said to me ‘I hope you get a job’ as he left. The quiet well-behaved most-potential-to-get-lost-in-the-background girl who I’d made a concerted effort to speak to, check up on, praise and make eye contact with came up to me, handed me a copy of her poem and said ‘Merry Christmas’. I did not realise until that moment that those efforts had actually been appreciated by her.

I rattled though Romeo and Juliet. There was possibly too much rattling as I think some students gave up trying to keep up. When reading the last act I noticed how often death was personified so I got the students to identify this and then pretend that death was a character and had a speaking role. I got them all to write at least two lines for him. They enjoyed this activity and it also focussed their attention on the tragedy of the play because they had to think about how many people had died and for what cost. I gave the year 9s their feedback for their assessment. Some of the high flying girls questioned my marking. I had half a mind to say ‘great, never stop questioning authority, stay critical, don’t accept’, but the other half wanted to say ‘it is grammatically wrong and you need to break these habits now.’ Challenging. I had planned a post-play project for the students to learn about different stage types - their advantages and disadvantages - then choose which one they would stage a section of Act 5 on. I wanted to get them drawing it out and labelling everything. I got really excited about this but only got as far as explaining the advantages and disadvantages of thrust, arena and proscenium stages. They were very absorbed in this despite the fact that it almost felt like a lecture. Perhaps this is the story telling element working its magic again. Also, my enthusiasm for the subject was probably palpable. Unfortunately I had to hand this over to the teacher to continue with and I never got to see their creations.

I also gave assessment feedback to Year 10. There was a right mixture of stories. One boy had written about a dog whose wonder threw a stick into a pond and then the dog went to get it. That was the whole and entire story. Another boy had written a very well-written piece about a hound man who was extremely mentally troubled and asked to have ‘it removed’ every day at the hospital. The doctor’s refused. One night he shoots himself. The ‘investigator’ asks the doctors what he wanted removing. The doctor says ‘he claimed he had a face on the back of his head, but it was just a discolouration of the skin.’ It ended with a powerful message about listening to people with mental health issues. I passed on my concerns to the class teacher. My last activity with Year 10 focussed on show not tell. I busted this myth by explaining to them when you should use ‘show’ and when ‘tell’ should be used. This went down reasonably well although I would make the whole lesson a bit more interactive next time. I was running out of juice by this point though.

It was extremely sad to say goodbye to the English department, my spacious desk, work laptop, classes, AT and school. On the Wednesday I went to see Jeanette Winterson. She spoke a bit and then read from her book Christmas Days. I was nearly dead from exhaustion but it was wonderful to hear her thoughts and listen to the stories. I got a booked signed for my AT as a gift and one for myself too. I told Jeanette I was training to be a teacher and how it was going. She was very interested. She recommended two of her stories which would be good to read to students. My AT was touched by the gift and when we said our goodbyes we both got a bit tearful.

This is what Jeanette wrote to me in her book:

Virtual Sleevenotes, Credits and Lyrics for ‘Barry Andrews: Lost Pop Songs 78-80’

TRACK LIST 1 Rossmore Road 2 Win a Night Out (with a well-known paranoiac) 3 Freak 4 Me and My Mate Can Sing 5 Mousetrap 6 Bring On The Alligators 7 Sargasso Bar 8 Feeding Time 9 Muscle & Movement 10 Opposite Way in the Rush Hour 11 Taking Over ICI 12 Vampyr Skinhead 13 Big Soft Safe Family

MUSICIANS 1-3 clarinet: Frank Abrams, trombone: Ian Bateman, guitar: Rob Hendry, Robert Fripp, Bruce Mcrae, bass: Dave Marx, drums: Richard Wernham, engineer: John Strudwick, backing vocals: Bruce Mcrae, Patti Palladin, Clara Harris, Steve New, Marion Fudger. Recorded at Rockstar Studios, Fitzrovia, Mixed at Regent’s Park Studios, St Johns Wood. 4-7 guitars and bass: Dave Marx, drums: Rob Wilford, engineer: Hugh Padgham, Producer: Martin Rushent. Recorded at Townhouse Studio 2, Goldhawk Road. 8-10 guitar: Jon Ellis, bass: Dave Marx, drums: Richard Wernham, engineer: John Strudwick, recorded at Pathway Studios, Islington 11-13 bass: Marion Fudger, guitar: Rob Hendry, drums: Richard Wernham, engineer: Eric Radcliffe, recorded at Blackwing Studios, Borough.

The songs on this album have been lying about for a looong time, as you see.  The reasons for this are twofold: 1- it’s juvenelia, really - undeveloped, derivative. Trying stuff on for size.  An artist not in complete control of his medium, if you like. So I was not in a hurry to expose it, I guess, for its flaws are obvious. 2 it’s precious, unrepeatable, unvarnished. Truly an account of Process as someone’s aesthetic develops. It’s fascinating to me, of course (‘each man loves the smell of his own farts’) and, I have to assume, as an article of faith, that it may be to others. So, as a one-time-for-all-time thing, I was hesitant to release it. Anyway, here they…are, these songs which are inextricably bound both to a critical time in my life and the interstitial flavour of the historical moment: the end of the 70’s in good old (post-war, now post-60’s) UK. The dingy, dark, money-strapped days of Callaghan and Heath on the cusp of the New (fake) Gold Thatcherite Dawn.

London still grubby, edgy and un-Developed in a lot of places (squats still available - for instance) and Punk, which had roared for a couple of years - having redefined pop culture, via getting Pissed and Destroying - was about to stagger off into the wings, fresh out of ideas.

the Roxy Club, Covent Garden in 77 (it’s a shop selling Speedos now. Out with the Bin Bags in with the New Shiny Pants!)

The Clash and Pistols albums of 77 had permeated, by 79, everywhere they were likely to go (surprisingly far) but their offspring - the ninety-to-the-dozen, political, permanently furious form of *Punk was on the wane. ‘New Wave’ as a catch-all term for anything that was neither hardcore (with a little ‘h’) Punk nor Old School Rock was becoming the mot du jour. Another strange little sub-genre was Power Pop (which my old firm XTC could be described as, although to be fair, we were doing it well before the term was coined). Blondie, The Rich Kids, the Rezillos: all were attempts to make ideologically (yes!) acceptable the idea of melody and upbeat themes in a landscape where (Iove this term) *Ramalamadolequeue was rapidly wearing out its welcome.

(the Rich Kids - ft. Steve New, the baby deer. They’re not signing on are they? They’re Rich.)

Personally, these tunes cover, as historians say, ‘the long 78-80’. Roughly from the end of my time with XTC to the beginning of Restaurant for Dogs which was (sort-of) the R&D for Shriekback, although definitely with its own sovereignty and aesthetic.

Rossmore Road                                                                                               source: 1/4″ tape                                                                                              This came to light in a box of old tapes (Lordy I wish I had more tapes). It’s the first mix John Strudwick and I did for the single but I wasn’t happy and, rather sportingly, Virgin let us remix it. This version, though, not only has the ‘son trouveé - ‘asking for directions’ elements at the beginning and end (hilariously furious posh guy who - you can hear - I have managed to wind up even in the few seconds it takes to ask where Rossmore Road was. How? I really was an annoying, chippy bastard in those days - you can see why I felt paranoid (see below).

I was playing with Robert Fripp’s League of Gentlemen at the time and Robert kindly offered to come down and bestow his guitar benediction upon my humble pop tune (skills which were to be deployed, rather more usefully, on Bowie’s ‘Scary Monsters’ later that year - which Robert had taken a break from rehearsals with us to do (‘I have redefined the parameters of modern guitar playing’, he self-deprecatingly declared, on his return).

We got off to a bad start and never got beyond it: we plugged Fripp in and played the tune - John the engineer had assumed, totally reasonably, that this was a ‘get familiar’ go-through before we started recording.

As producer I should have been clearer - very much so, as it turned out because Fripp threw a total hissy fit when told we hadn’t recorded his 1st take. He gave us a rant about Heroes etc - how all his most genius work had been 1st or second takes. I apologised. He made a somewhat passive/aggressive show of graciousness in spite of this clear affront and the atmosphere was kinda tense after that. Someone else who hated me. Just great.

And anyway, what we would have got (and, on the 2nd take, did get) was - Fripp fans forgive me - 70’s prog-hero solo guitar noodling (very good guitar noodling, but still) - which loftily ignored the song’s structure so entirely that you had to choose between either just showcasing Robert or actually crafting the song. On the remix we ended up using one note (at the top). I honestly couldn’t find anything else that properly fitted. On the present mix, however, if you listen carefully, you can hear Fripp doing his flash, busy thing - it’s mixed as loud as I dared but you can hear it doesn’t really work and, if it hadn’t been him playing it, it wouldn’t have been there.

An inappropriate and inelegant use of resources, as he might have said. Interesting to hear though, perhaps, in a vestigial tail/snake legs sort of a way.

conceptual stuff about RRd. 

ROSSMORE ROAD (NW1) The 159 runs along it Round the corner from Baker Street There's a dolls house shop on the corner Of Lisson Grove and

Rossmore Road Rossmore Road

Turn left at the DHSS in Lisson Grove You find yourself in Rossmore Road And there's a number of public buildings And a safety barrier down the middle of the road

In Rossmore Road In Rossmore Road In Rossmore Road

White and yellow lines and street signs And public phones and traffic cones And belisia beacons on the central reservation All humming now, all humming now, all humming now

To the north The Grand Canal Round the corner Regent's Park Next stop on the tube Marylebone Road And you can see Balcombe Street from Rossmore Road

The 159 runs along it Round the corner from Baker Street There's a dolls house shop on the corner Of Lisson Grove and

Rossmore Road Rossmore Road Rossmore Road Rossmore Road

In Rossmore Road White and yellow lines and street signs North of the river South of the circular Under the road Above the railway

All humming now, all humming now, all humming now All humming now, all humming now, all humming now All humming now, all humming now, all humming now All humming now, all humming now, all humming now All humming now, all humming now, all humming now All humming now...

Win a Night Out (with a well-known paranoiac)                                           sound source: 1/4″ tape

Very pleased with this, I am still. Sui generis as they come. Blur before Blur said somebody. OK I’ll take it. I was (I think) actually thinking about Patti Smith’s Piss Factory - and Land and Wave, those half-poem, half-song tunes of hers. This, though, suffused with the provincial UK, late 70’s consciousness you get when you perhaps smoke too much grim hash and take too much speed. Interesting sexual punishment element to it also. Because it’s two dates: one rustic and one urban, then an extreme post coital reverse followed by a horrific denouement (Nazi Vivisection! The worst kind) which shows that, as they say: ’just cos you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you’.

This is, obviously, autobiographical (apart from the vivisection). This arsy, scruffy little bloke, oppressed by the forces of reaction and class, who seems to attract humiliation and brutality wherever he goes, even though his intentions are just to have fun and get laid.  It’s a little poem about fear and self doubt which, around ’79 there seemed to be lots of. So I made a record. More expensive than a therapist but it has a trombone player..

WIN A NIGHT OUT (WITH A WELL-KNOWN PARANOIAC)

We could rendezvous in a country pub I know in the heart of rural England where the landlord sports moustaches just like Jimmy Edwards and the crisps and pickled onions on the bar are numberless as the stars at night We're just about to order scampi in an Elizabethan basket when two neckless men in blazers and cravats approach our table and say - "sorry - this bar is exclusively for the use of Nobel prize winners, latter day saints, people who have seen God and selected relatives of our dear Queen, and furthermore, you worm, there is mud upon your plimsolls". I reply that I am a member of most elitist cliques you care to name and the blood which courses (at an ever increasing speed as it happens) through my veins belonged once to the Cuban royal family, but, they don't listen and they just pour my drink down the sink and say "this is not what we mean. In this life, one is either U or non-U and if I were you I'd make myself bloody scarce.” I even try to show them my credit cards but unmoved they say "OK sonny, it's time you were taught a lesson and there's only one thing that your sort understand"

Win a night out with a well known paranoiac Win a night out with a famous paranoid Win a night out with a well known paranoiac Win a night out with a famous paranoid

At an Iberian eatery in the west end, we could gaze at each other across saucers of yoghurt and bits of crusty foreign bread - and then - I could order a carraffe of Asti - we could have so much fun. We could discuss things like communism and chart positions with the lack of inhibitions that separate the truly liberated from the herd - but - I should mention that I talk quite loud as a casualty of inexpensive foreign wine and neither am I unaware of the restive noises from the party sitting close by. But as I'm in the middle of my funny story about the Arab and the underwater toilet, I can't stop now 'cause I'm in too deep, as I'm coming to the part where I say (in my best joke telling voice), "so the Arab says to the attendant, right...

‘Of course as we know five thousand pounds of pressure can suck out almost anything,’ and it all goes quiet and a little girl is saying: "Daddy, what a horrible man" and Daddy replies, "don't worry darling 'cause I've just made a phone call to your crypto-fascist Uncle Roger and he'll be here quite soon, and make quite sure he doesn't upset any little girls... little girls any more"

Win a night out with a famous paranoiac Win a night out with a well known paranoid Win a night out with a well known paranoiac Win a night out with a famous paranoid

Lying in your crumpled bed on Sunday morning, you said your Mum and Dad had gone away to a conference in Bath and I believed you like a fool. Now you get up, go to the window and you turn a pot plant round. I study your naked bottom with a twinge of lust but I'm not twigging that something's going down. There is a sound of the heavy boots upon the stairs and the door crashes open and in comes your Dad with some faithful retainers and some ex-Army mates from the Conservative Club. And I figure they must have been waiting all night because your Dad is clutching two reels of infra-red film and he's looking dangerously pale as he shows me the microphone under the bed, and I'm just about getting the message: all is not too groovy

As you stand there in your dressing gown laughing at me, then in comes your Mum in her nylon house coat with her hair hanging loose like a suburban Harpy and she advances towards me with an army surplus bush knife, clearly bent on wreaking havoc down below the navel and she's just about to get stuck in when I wake up... and yeah, it was all a dream

I'm really in a hospital bed. There is a smell of formaldehyde in the air, and a couple of doctors with swastikas on their arm are doing something to the brain of a sheep and in the corner is a huge zinc bath containing some sort of reptile and the nurse is saying "be a brave boy and drink it all up". And I realise I can't feel me legs and the shape in the bed isn't my shape at all and I wanna cry out but I can only bleat

Win a night out with a well known paranoiac Win a night out with a famous paranoid Win a night out with a well known paranoiac Win a night out with a famous paranoid

FREAK source: cassette So Funk was the thing - but let’s take it and fuck it up with our English voices and anti-slick playing. Let’s actually take the funk/fun out of it. Disco hatred was the tip, kinda. I recall saying in an interview that it was like scratching up a big lairy american limousine with the nasty, rusty keys of your squat (there’s also an unreleased Restaurant for Dogs version we recorded for Warners with Nick Launay which takes this approach to its theoretical limit: it’s pretty hard to listen to). We are, in fact, so alienated from the subject matter that I sing ‘just come on down to the fifth floor’ instead of ’54’ - the iconic New York club, me not having heard of it (though - quirky historical note - Shriekback did actually play there in the place’s last week - on the Sacred City tour).

Dave’s ‘confused Dutch person’ on the end is a nice random element. Like he’s wandered in off another session. 

4 Songs from Town & Country EP (Virgin 79) Me and My Mate, Mousetrap, Bring on the Alligators, Sargasso Bar sound source: vinyl Ah T&C - I sort-of despise thee. No-one was taking care of my career development - especially not me - after XTC so I got stuck in a posh recording studio with the Strangler’s producer way before I should have been. This you can hear from the ‘apprentice piece’ nature of this EP.  All influences fully on show and sellotaped together. A ‘band’ which, you can tell, has only so much in common and which was kinda thrown together.  An adolescent ferocity in the delivery not masking very well a slew of insecurities. ‘Calm Down’ I want to tell this snarling young herbert, ‘nobody thinks you’re cool anyway. It’s fine: do an album about a fish, why dontcha?’ As it is, we get a variety pack of New Wave/Post Punk styles and lyrical tropes: Me & My Mate (the Clash obvs: stage democracy, anti-rockist groupy exploitation, DIY fanzine-esque self-expression for the working classes, Patti Smith reference). Mousetrap A classically-trained-but-recently-listened-to-Elvis Costello/Joe Jackson Bitter Relationship song. I like the spoken word bit that deconstructs a Well Made Play in 4 lines though (for those who don’t know, The Mousetrap is the longest running show in the West End - since ‘52!). The ‘Darlings’ repeated hookline was a reference to my lovely Aunty Rene who worked many years in the box office of various West End theatres (the Adelphi and the Prince of Wales I think - and since you ask) and had adopted a fabulously camp way of speaking through long exposure to gay theatrical men. Her poodle Chico was ‘my little Treasure Island’ and everyone else was ‘Darling’.

Aunty Rene (2nd left) with her theatrical crew and actress Anna Neagle at the Coalhole on the Strand 1968)

MOUSETRAP Been playing Shaftesbury Avenue For a thousand years or maybe two - darlings Done plenty bum gigs in my time But everything's alright now

In the mousetrap In the mousetrap

We fall in love most every night We're quite ridiculously tight - darlings And yeah I feel some kind of freak Getting killed six times a week

In the mousetrap In the mousetrap

It's nearly half past three Gotta do a matinee I don't understand this game Why everything's the same

But as the show go on and on And on and on And on and on and on and on and on And on

I know the punters mustn't see How mundane it seems to me - darlings But sometimes I wish I could screw Someone else in Shaftsbury Avenue

In the mousetrap In the mousetrap

Curtain up - exposition Development of character Plot - unravelling slow Sustaining interest, gathering momentum

Till they unmask the killer Then a twist right at the end And it's all over till tomorrow night

In the mousetrap In the mousetrap

Sargasso Bar definitely the best of this bunch. Although the Small Town Observational style is a little irritating  (alright, Bazzer, you’re a Poet of the Everyday and you are so very alienated) it is here for the first time that a certain mock heroic, magical-realist aspect started to appear in my writing.  ‘they raise their glasses in 2/4 time and they study the latecomers as they slither in beneath the door’. XTC did a version of this which failed to get onto GO2.  Not too much different I think but I recall Andy Partridge’s objection to the line: ‘we’re surrounded by the Eels of Death’. He felt it was the sort of hippy, trippy kinda image which XTC Stood Against. I felt it was - well - mock heroic and magical realist. This conversation went nowhere, obviously, but it was instrumental in making my decision to leave the band. These people just didn’t get my shit…

SARGASSO BAR Couple in the corner Now she's crying on his shoulder Well they're a couple of Modern Lovers Sort of Kevin and Isolde She's embarrassed by his footwear He's embarrassed by her hair But he doesn't really care He says it's murder staying emotionally aware He's another Lost Soul But he's only come here to die And get high

In the sargasso bar, the sargasso bar, the sargasso bar In the sargasso bar, the sargasso bar, the sargasso bar

Big John in the wooly Football training in the evening Well he got married married married Now he only thinks of leaving And he's surrounded by the blubber Watch the terylene stretching As he makes a point about his car When you're on miles to the gallon You know where you are And he's here every night, he's such a regular guy He gets high

In the sargasso bar, the sargasso bar, the sargasso bar In the sargasso bar, the sargasso bar, the sargasso bar

We came in from the rain Now we're surrounded by the Eels of Death Everyone nervous and everybody couldn't care less We raise our glasses in 2/4 time We study the latecomers as they slither in beneath the door About this time of the night There's more and more and more and more Well, give them ten minutes then they all go home to die Cos they're so high

In the sargasso bar, the sargasso bar, the sargasso bar

Bring on the Alligators yeah, dunno about this one really. Clearly I’m really working the magic realist tip again but to what end? It’s clearly meant to be funny, what with the Polish ‘1234’ in the middle and the ‘cocktail bar’ quiet section at the end and all but it’s all trying a bit hard for my liking. The awfully Lahndun working class accent I have on all these tunes is also a bit abrasive. My estuarine whine is of course part of me but it is underlining, unecessarily and stridently I feel, the ‘prolier than thou’ ethic which I had bought into wholesale during Punk. Let it go, dude…

2 LOTS OF DEMOS source: cassette Well, now we were getting somewhere.. Listening back now, 40-odd years on it really does seem to me that the year (ish) between the EP and this first set of demos represented a huge leap in my - er - self development. The life in XTC - still living with Ma & Pa or on the road within the Mothership of the band - record company, management, everything being done for you (at the expense, as it turned out, of knowing what was actually going on..hem hem). It’s cosiness and material sufficiency came at a price I could no longer put up with. Time to go, clearly.

I remember leaving the last outpost of that world - the nice flat above the Townhouse, paid for by Virgin while we were recording the EP but now, since recording had just finished, off limits. So…I could go back to Swindon - or step out into the scary metropolis, where all the safety nets have been packed away, and see what can be made to happen. Me and a girlfriend (who had signed up when I was a (sort-of) pop star - she was in for a taste of the real musician’s girlfriend’s lot now alright) went over to my old schoolmate’s flat in the East End (he was at college in London) - it was pouring down of rain as we walked across Tower Bridge. No money for a cab - the XTC wages had long been cut off. 

Youth seeks a Rite of Passage, does it not? This seemed to be mine. I felt noble and scared and reckless and Hungry for Experience. So, these tunes were written after a year of London, of squatting, signing on, meeting loads of new people, getting sick, getting well, hanging round the ink well - no, actually, after a particularly avid speed binge and a dreadful mini-tour with the T&C band I developed serious chickenpox (more virulent in adulthood, it turns out). I was the Elephant Man for a while. The body was having its unignorable say about all this new input.  But the tunes were definitely better. More individual. Not trying so hard and, sometimes, there was a Showing Forth of something really quite juicy and new (and I don’t just mean the pustules, har har).

Feeding Time                                                                                                         I submitted this to Shriekback’s publisher when he asked if we had anything that might do for the Eurovision Contest. He never quite looked at me the same way again, I thought (nil points pour moi).

I had been working at London Zoo (west gate and Reptile House: taking money on the door) that year and eating in various Camden/Kilburn greasy spoons. These two experiences were to produce this little gem. A Meditation on Eating. I think it needed doing. 

Points of interest: Dave Marx’s great bassline which is really the hook and the armature. Jon Ellis’s glistening ‘egg’ chord. The ‘Taking Your Order’ on the fade (Prawn Cocktail! The 70′s are strong in this one...) I had earlier recorded this with some ‘opera’ singers (from the BBC West of England Chorus - including Mrs Evenett (contralto) my old French teacher) singing the ‘Feeding Time’s’ in fine bel canto stylee. Which I may release at some point.

FEEDING TIME Putting things into my body at Feeding Time White wine and little damaged bodies from the bottom of the sea inside me still feel hungry when I reach the end and I won’t  feel good when it’s Feeding Time again. I watch him from the corner at Feeding Time sometimes he is hideous to watch as he shovels his chops inside him and his belly is beginning to distend and I know he’ll feel great when it’s Feeding Time again

but in the meantime Eat - don’t stop Eat - don’t stop Eat - don’t stop

Biting Viscera and gristle at Feeding Time listen to the lobsters whistle crack their legs open suck out what you find inside The spaghetti as it glistens at Feeding Time like spirogyra on your wet lips munching masticated chips in your mouth with lots of wine Eggs! Eggs! Soft and warm romantically slipping down inside and I wish it could always be Feeding Time and I wish it could always be Feeding Time (let’s see what’s on menu.. I’ll get an onion bhaji.. …prawn cocktail …three more pappadums…)

Opposite Way In The Rush Hour You know, it’s a bit cheesy and self serving but I still dig this. Our hero is heading off to some gig (some horrible, low paid, nightclub-type gig - let’s say in Edgbaston. Or Stoke). He’s hitching his way up there to meet the band at the soundcheck and it’s just getting dark. He looks at all the Regular Folk coming home from work: old geezers on pushbikes, factory workers - UK manufacturing has still a few years in it at this point - young girls (that might have been mating/marriage material in his former life) wait at bus stops and the cosy tea (the evening meal not the drink - important class-related point) on the tables, visible through the shortly to be curtained windows and our man gets all Springsteeny-sentimental about his self-ordained High and Lonely Destiny. Noble chords, I think, and very clever drumming by Rich Wernham (he was bloody good, I must say - as Nick Lowe said - ‘you can get away with murder if you’ve got a good drummer’). The absence of traditional last chorus repeats, instead dissolving into a babble of voices was indicative of some creative, envelope-pushing Thort, I would say. The boy’s finding his feet..

OPPOSITE WAY IN THE RUSH HOUR Going the opposite way in the rush hour watching the cars going past in the night. Factory gates let out the day shift - they escape on their bikes. Daughters go home on the bus, see you’re not one of us. The sensation is sweet and it’s sour. Going the opposite way, opposite way, in the rush hour.

Closer to being a part of the big system: so near and far from all that you seek. Closer to where the big heart beats you into submission then rocks you to sleep. Curtains still open The news on the telly they’re making their tea and I want all they’ve got but somehow.. keep on going this way: opposite way in the rush hour.

Street lamps come on now, those front rooms look so warm now. Old men with empty lunch bags pedal homewards and the girls wait at bus stops as the weekend unfolds. Once it would have felt so right heading into the hot sticky heat of the night

…it’s not a question of honour or a question at all Just the way that we choose to live now Going our opposite way… opposite way… opposite way…

Muscle and Movement Painfully sincere (and unintentionally camp) credo from the Squat years. Fucking grim, mate. It was cold, self-flagellating and unecessarily unpleasant. Here is the mantra behind that lifestyle experiment ‘pain is knowledge and knowledge is wealth.’ Jeez, give this guy a cuddle...

MUSCLE & MOVEMENT Fed up of sitting around with my legs crossed Pretending and smiling and saying ‘yeah, cheers then’ avoiding the whites of their eyes. (and another thing) And another thing- don’t try and tell me you’re gonna get something together when everything’s going your way then the limit’s the sky. You can’t always hide on the side watching people who do things bigger than you. You can’t have a permanent stop to the things that displease you or give you unease. ‘Cos all that matters is Muscle and Movement flesh out all your fantasies with Muscle and Movement (ain’t no such thing as security, just Muscle and Movement Muscle and Movement

as you relax at the end of the day there’s another tomorrow staring at you as it stands at the top of the stairs time is a swine it just keeps coming at you battering you to the floor as you try and stand up yelling you’ve had enough save it for somebody free - don’t talk to me I got no symapthy pour out some more of that wine everything’ll be fine just stay drunk all the time but remember that Muscle and Movement is all that makes you what you are Muscle and Movement standing still don’t get you too far it’s Muscle and Movement Muscle and Movement

it’s hard but it’s true that there’s nothing to cling to nothing to belong to and nowhere is more important than where you are now and there is no rest for the wicked, no rest for the wicked or peace for the innocent or the don’t knows (this lines indecipherable) cos there ain’t nobody got the things they need (same) cos the things that you lack are what you never get back cs the only secret weapon is Muscle and Movement

Muscle and Movement nothing happens by itself Muscle and Movement pain is knowledge and knowledge is wealth

Vampyr Skinhead & Taking Over ICI Well, it’s here that I claim total responsibility for the Two-Tone/Ska Revival that was to occur later that year. No, honest - no-one else was doing this stuff at the time (or they were but no-one had heard of them yet). These two tunes were, moreover, direct descendants of my song ‘Super Tuff’ from the XTC album (btw, that title came from the strapline of a Bruce Lee movie ‘Bruce Lee - Super Tough - but also Tender,’ so I was also anticipating Tarantino and all that kitsch martial arts movie stuff from the 90’s - could I be any more prescient?) Actually, exciting self delusion aside, I claim only to have had my finger on an historical pulse which had been throbbing away since the 70’s and which obviously many others had also been party to. As I say somewhere else ‘it’s ok to have a great idea but you have to get off your chuff if you’re going to start a cultural movement’. I wasn’t dedicated enough, clearly, but I was quietly and briefly, a canary in that particular coalmine.

The idea of reggae as this parallel exotic, possibly dangerous sub-track to Pop/Rock had been around for quite a while and kept bubbling up out of the Zeitgeisty swamp to varying amounts of mainstream attention. Bob Marley (pretty much just him) had Broken Through to become the reggae artist that unitiated white people liked and played at parties to show Cool. U Roy, Big Youth, Scratch et al remained the province of hip white people (as we liked to think of ourselves). But, under the audacious banner of ‘Fuck Art, Let’s Dance’ the Ska revival, the Two Tone label, Madness etc were to mine the accelerated beats, fruity grooves and edgy vibes of Jamaica (along the lines of Desmond Dekker and Toots and the Maytals) to international chart success. Of which more in a minute..

Since Punk there had been this strange symbiosis (which is easy to forget, it’s so non-intuitive) of reggae with Punk which had continued, unabated since the days of the Roxy Club.  This, eventually, had permeated the wider scene.  So, when XTC would play, in 78, gigs in Birmingham or Leeds, the disco would always be alternating, say, the Drones, Chelsea or the Pistols with Althia and Donna, Steel Pulse or Culture. It was a tacit admission, I would say, that the Punk formula was a limited one and, while its brutal austerity had been bracing (and a welcome antididote to Old Fart music), people still needed melody and sensuality and Actual Dancing.

But, there had been, in my late schooldays (early to late 70’s) an earlier, more schismatic appearance of Reggae (in its proto form of Ska) which I had observed firsthand in my Comprehensive provincial schooldays with all its codes and brutalities (kinda charming and nostalgic now; fairly scary and intense at the time). There was a  2 tribes battle going on at my school and in the UK generally: the Skinheads and the Greboes/Hairies (vestigial, usually non-ideological Hippies, really, sometimes with a component of Biker). It was a pretty one-sided battle: the Skins were an embodiment of working class, unsmiling rage and violence (’Aggro’ and ‘Bovver’ were their coinages (graffitti in my town read: ‘S.T.A.B (= Swindon Town Aggro Boys) Kick to Kill’). It was a culture of fighting and machismo which picked on pretty much anyone (it became a white racist movement eventually of course: ‘Paki Bashing’ being one defining activity but, as is documented in ‘This Is England’ TV series, the Skins didn’t start out that way: look at all that ska and blubeat. Also, in Swindon in the 70’s there wasn’t much opportunity to get the ol’ racism going - there wasn’t a single black or Asian kid in my year at school; only one or two in the entire school - so the Hairies/Greebs would have to do as a Victim Class, I guess. 

The mostly docile, pacifist, great-coat/tie-die-wearing, patchouli-smelling, Topographic Oceans-carrying quasi-hippy was always good for a bit of a kicking (though I suspect, the lack of physical challenge made them a bit uninspiring - football hooliganism probably gave the Skins more of a work-out).  At any rate, the hirsute, messy look and, (NB!) the usually university-bound, middle class nature of the Hairies was a walking provocation to the neatly groomed, fashion-conscious, mostly working class (went to work instead of Sixth Form: fuck school and Uni, let’s make some short-term money - therefore doomed for life to the factory or site) Skinheads.

This schism was enacted in the music, as it often is: the long-winded, effete,  sexually inert tropes of Prog, the self-indulgent, solo-wanking, adolescent-boy mirror-gazing of hard rock versus the clipped, disciplined, concise sexy beats of Ska and pop reggae (showcased particularly in the ‘Tighten Up’ series of compilations). It really was chalk and cheese.

There was, btw, a whole genre of dirty ska songs, epitomised by Prince Buster’s Big Five single (‘funky spunky man in Big Five, screaming steaming night in Big Five…there will be water all over the bed…water all over her head..’ (!) 

One night after a Manfred Mann’s Earthband show at Swindon College (deep Hairy territory, obviously) when the crowd were reluctant to go home, the promoter stuck a Ska tune on the PA which cleared the room like tear gas. Hard to imagine now. Like I say, Tribal. So, when I started writing songs (Pop Songs! For Bands!) I felt I had struck a fruitful vein in observing the horrified yet strangely fascinated viewpoint of the oppressed Other (Hairy/Greeb/insert Ethnic Group) as he is subdued and brutalised by his natural predator, the Skinhead. 

Form following subject matter, this would, of course, be couched in a mutated form of reggae which, though, as a fledgling Hairy (with already insufficient hair, aIas!) I was forbidden to like - I must say it did exert a fascination. It was so alien. Alien is interesting. Thus, in Vampyr Skinhead we have, again, a randomly predatory hardnut - this time he’s going door to door terrorising people (‘no compunction as he hammers down your door - or elects to clamber in the window - he is swift and he is sure..’). The image really did come to me in a dream: this ferocious little fucker doing his rounds of the estate, like a Clockwork Orange version of the Man from the Pru. Definitely a Viz magazine character there, I reckon... The sound of a Ska beat still had, for me, the menace it did when the Skins at school danced their clipped, butch, slightly-ridiculous-but-I-fucking-dare-you-to-laugh, scary little dance to it.

Non Cultural Studies note: the riff is played on a WASP synth - I guess the 1st affordable synthesiser. Fairly horrible but it had one good sound so hey... No actual keyboard - a flat plate which was murder to play and ‘explains’ the really obvious cock-up on the intro which we didn’t have time to repair. It wasn’t mine btw (the WASP not the cock up).

VAMPYR SKINHEAD Vampyr Skinhead knock at your door Don’t sell brushes or Brittanica no more He no check for pushing leaflets through the door or collecting money for the football he lives outside the law. He’s just out on the street with his boots on his feet and I would give a lot to know what he’s got Vampyr Skinhead.. Vampyr Skinhead Vampyr Skinhead strikes again Vampyr Skinhead feel no pain gonna do it again and again and again

Vampyr Skinhead come down your way and he’s not from anywhere silly in the USA. Not religion that he’s peddling door to door he’s not looking for the meter (he wouldn’t know what it’s for). He’s just out on the street with his boots on his feet and your little sister’s crying but he’s not. Vampyr Skinhead Vampyr Skinhead Vampyr Skinhead

Somebody’s gonna get uptight, gonna get hot and they’re gonna make mincemeat of him someday... Somebody like Peter Cushing gonna wreck the curtains while he’s sleeping then they’ll be nothing left but a pair of Marten’s and a pile of dust…

Vampyr Skinhead come down your street he’s a monster and he’s got sharp litle teeth. No compunction as he hammers down your door Or elects to clamber in the window - he is swift and he is sure. Out and I would give a lot to know what he’s got Vampyr Skinhead…. Vampyr Skinhead…. Vampyr Skinhead……

V.S.’s Nemesis...

Taking Over ICI was an attempt at a pure pop reggae tune - with a socialist/punky spin. Lovely playing by Rob (gtr) and Marion Fudger (ex wife of Dave Fudger, charming chap who used to write for Sounds and now worked for Virgin Publishing - he got me the gig with Iggy Pop). Rich Wernham (also of the Motors). Cracking organ solo dontcha think? I had chops in those days - before Quantise fucked me up.

TAKING OVER ICI Alone I just didn’t dare make my move to trash organised laissez-faire but since you nibbled my ear Cadbury-Schweppes and Lever Brothers quiver in fear. All the multiples are whining. All the big nobs are resigning. Since I found out you loved me, I’m taking over ICI Taking over ICI Alone I couldn’t handle myself let alone the redistribution of wealth. But, since I found out you care, I could trash the System single-handed I swear. Can’t handle all their wheeler-dealing - prefer to hear rich people squealing… Since I found out you loved me, I’m taking over ICI Taking over ICI… Taking over ICI..

Big Soft Safe Family Rather as ‘Paranoiac’ was: a one-off, never to be repeated thing. Deeply and nakedly autobiographical. Musically quite original, I venture. Shmershy chords the like of which I hadn’t used before and a confidently slow groove. Vignettes of my respectable working class, late 60′s, Mike Leigh previous life suffused with the cheap cynicism of a young sprat who didn’t realise how lucky he was. They’re all gone now.. and - spoiler - I actually never had an aunt from Torquay (but she rhymed).

BIG SOFT SAFE FAMILY The relatives are all on their fifth cup of tea. Their rapid eye movements are something to see - all lying to each other and smiling alternately. Your mum and your dad and your aunt from Torquay they are none of the same as they once used to be but they’re all of them, gloriously in the Big Soft Safe Family

We all of us have a particular smell I know their’s and they know mine habitually well. They worry about me and I worry about them I’m surprised you can’t tell. We use the same toilet and eat the same food and we savage each other when we’re not feeling so good but blood is thicker than water and ultimately we’re a Big Soft Safe Family

We’re slowly aquiring the things  that we need they’re very pleased with our progress indeed. They were saying we looked very happy and of course we agreed. Respect due to father and love due to mum and the daughter is lovely and so is the son. Illusions die obstinately in the Big Soft Safe Family