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ggukkieland · 4 years

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📕BTS Fic Reads - 2020 August

Okay so I’m such a hoe for fics that I probably have about a hundred on queue but I can’t help appreciate all the works that these awesome writers put here on Tumblr and AO3.

Here’s my attempt to organize my readings - though if my mood fluctuates, I’d just end up going through my reblogged fics for reading or sorting through my watchlist of ongoing/incomplete fics/series

✅ - done reading | S (smut) F (fluff) A (angst)

🥕[Ongoing Series - to check weekly]🥕

Dangerous Pairing @nightowls388 - KNJ | supernatural au, fantasy au, forbidden romance

[2/?] “Whether you’re a vampire or werewolf, love is still love. Betrayal is still betrayal.”

Queen Cobra @fantasybangtan - KTH | mafia au, undercover au, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, thriller, s, f,a

[8/?] when your boss offers the chance to take down the nation’s most lucrative gang from the inside out, you know you’ll do it no matter what the cost… even if that means entering an arranged marriage with the kingpin himself.

Arranged by obiwrites (AO3) - JHS | arranged marriage, unrequited love, angst, pining, jhs in love with someone else

[19/?] If you thought entering an arranged marriage with the person you love would be a dream, you were in for a rude awakening. Jung Hoseok was far from the doting husband you’d dreamed of and most of it could be chalked up to the fact that he was in love with his best friend. And you are without a shadow of a doubt, not her.

Image, Bad Boy @kittentaegu - JJK | badboy, fwb, angst, smut, more angstttt (I binge-read on this for the angst), adorable JJK when he’s not an fboi

[14/?] I chose to read this on AO3. Incomplete, but Ch 14 had such a satisfying ending - When by chance you walk in on the school’s infamous bad boy, not once, but two different times in one day; your life quickly spirals out of control.

I’ll Sue You, Min Yoongi by hosexi (AO3) - MYG | neighbors, enemies to lovers, angst, smut, lawyer!reader

[9/10] Yoongi is the neighbor from hell

Whiskey Neat and Whisking Trips by lacielre (AO3) - KTH | comedy, fake dating au, baker!reader, veterinarian!taehyung, funny 😂🤣, ex!Jin

[2/4] This is a story about the night you poured your heart out to your ex outside his apartment building as a stranger yelled at you to “shut the fuck up,” and that stranger, who was just as wounded as you, was Taehyung, and he needed your help.

His Side, Her Side @scriptaed - JJK | he said, she said, f, a

[11/?] a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be - one last chapter before series ends 😥

Black Swan @softlyjiminie - PJM | professional dancer, enemies to lovers, fake dating, figure skating, s, f, a

[2/?] a life of skating was all you’d ever known, your heart craving the feeling of ice beneath your feet and the light brush of cool air against your skin under thousands of sparkling lights… what a shame, if only you’d known that one night, one accident could rip you from the life you’d grown to love, leaving your career in the unsteady hands of the prince of ballet, park jimin.

The Key to my Drawer @jjungkookislife - KTH | bestfriends to lovers, s, a

[10/?] A key, a drawer, and a secret Taehyung planned to take to the grave

The Nanny @jjungkookislife - KSJ| lawyer!seokjin, nanny!reader, single dad au

[2/?] Jin hires a nanny for his son, but when he hires you, he gets that and so much more

Acatalepsy @1kook - JJK | survival au, apocalypse au, s, f

[2/?] Jungkook didn’t understand, and the longer he ponders it, he realizes maybe he never will. Some things are just better left unknown, he supposes. But that didn’t mean one had to face them alone.

Aphrodite in War @jungblue - JJK | angst, exes au, fake dating au, roommates, sorority/frat wars, college au *this is really good 😍😍*

[2/?] Everyone knew about the war that had been brewing on the edge of campus for the past two years. Sorority versus Fraternity; a showdown for the ages. However, when the escalating antics between them yields the consequence of possible suspensions for both chapters, the presidents of each house must come together to try and figure out how to end this battle… Which is kind of hard, considering they were the ones responsible for it in the first place.

Palate Cleanser @btsmakesmehappy - KTH | agent au, fwb, strangers to lovers, s, f, a

[5/?] Part of The Company series - Taehyung needs something to take his mind off his broken heart. His best friend, Jimin, suggests that he should meet another woman and the first woman he met was you. Would you help him even though you have your own problem, that you hate men?

Bad Guy @taehoneys - JJK | college au, fratboy au, badboy, good girl(?),

[3/?] chose to read this on AO3 A certain video circulates the school after your big mistake and you never do mistakes, but you did this time…a big one: J e o n J u n g k o o k

Good Girl Series: Good Girl || Sweet Girl || Smart Girl || Brave Girl @bonny-kookoo - JJK | good girl au, bad boy au, roommates, established relationship, s, f, a

[5/?] Jeon Jungkook was known to have a specific type when it came to his partners; tall, gorgeous, dominant and older. When a new girl answers to his ad online searching for a roommate, he didn’t quite expect such an innocent being to turn up at his doorstep And what he definitely didn’t expect was his growing interest in her and the feeling of having her under him, all submissive and ready to be ruined.

Agent of Love @ppersonna - JJK | social media au, agent au, s, f, a

[1/?] as the FBI agent assigned to your phone, Jungkook keeps a diligent watch. he takes a special interest when you try your hand in online dating AND online sexting. desperate to keep you from bombing yet another potential date, Jungkook breaks his vow of silence to assist you in your plight to get laid.

Irregular Heartbeat @ppersonnakookies - MYG | social media au, surgeon!yoongi, intern!reader,

[5/?] hot girl meets hot guy at a bar, lets him buy her a drink, then hooks up with him in the bathroom without even asking for his name. your typical friday night cliché. except for the fact that you’re a virgin, and the guy you drunkenly lose your v-card to is your superior at your new job.

Somewhere Only We Know @userseok - JJK | hybrid au, pining, angst, fantasy, smut

Prequel SOWK 1 SOWK 2 [being revised by author] Epilogue [to be posted]

you’ve been chasing after jungkook for years. after a harsh verbal altercation between both of you, you decide to leave him alone and pursue a relationship with someone who seems genuinely interested in you, thinking he would never return your feelings.

Elysee @ironicarmy - KSJ | angst, drama, CEO!Seokjin, personal assistant

[1/?] Being the CEO of Korea’s largest fashion house is no easy feat. But to be the person behind the man, that being his assistant, is an even harder spot to maintain. In a company filled with affairs, bribery, deceit, lies and blackmail, you must struggle to survive and, eventually, climb your way to the top of the food chain. Seokjin, your boss, trusts you more than anyone, but when exactly does the line between friendly camaraderie blur with carnal desire?

Beautiful Deception @jiminwreckedme - MYG? | mystery, thriller, ex!yoongi, angst, smut

[3/5] When your ex-boyfriend’s wife goes missing, you are the only one who can help him find her. But in a world where everyone is a friend and everyone is a culprit, how will you find out what happened to the woman he loves? Without falling for him all over again?

🥕[Completed AUs/Series/Drabbles - to read]🥕

One Thing Right @hobios - JJK | fake marriage au, childhood friends, enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, slow burn, smut

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 ✅ (done, read it twice - this is just perfect ⭐ holy grail status)

Carousel @yoonia - MYG | mafia au, arranged marriage, heirs, CEO!Yoongi, suspense

Index: 16 Chapters & Epilogue | Drabbles and short stories | Playlist | Fan Edits

*a re-read this holy grail of a fic 🥰

Risk It @kookiesjoonies - JJK | social media au, exes to lovers, angst, smut ✅

Driving Me Wild @joonkookiemonster - JJK | demon prince!JJK, roommate au, comedy, fluff ✅ (done reading, this is really cuuute 🥰)

Redefining Destiny @threeletterislife - JJK | soulmates, enemies to lovers, mafia, fluff, crack, angst

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 (*have to read Yoongi’s story first*)

Rattled @gukslut - JJK | single dad au, angst, pining, enemies to lovers, neighbors, smut

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Epilogue ✅(done)

*was reading this when it was ongoing, but stopped at Ch 5 (angst was too much for my heart 😢) - thrilled to binge-read this from the start 😍

Guarded @xjoonchildx - JHS | mafia au, enemies to lovers, slow burn, tsundere, smut

01 02 03 04 05 06 Epilogue ✅

Never Falling @yoonia - PJM | Enemies to Lovers!au, Singer!Jimin, non-idol!au, Assistant!reader, Smut, Angst, slow burn ✅(done)

Spellbound @minflix - PJM | witches au (sort of based on the secret circle), smut, comedy, fluff, light angst, enemies to lovers

Lie @yoon-kooks - PJM | angst, fluff, based on movie “Flipped”

0 // 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // 7 // 8 // 9 // 10 // 11 // 12 // 13 // 14 // 15 // 16 // 17 // FINAL

On the Sidewalk of Champ Elysees @taeramisu = KTH | journalist!KTH, exes to lovers, smut, angst, paris, slow burn

Little Monsters @yoon-bug - MYG | established relationship, unplanned pregnancy, s, f ✅

Take One @taetaewonderland - MYG | pornstar!yoongi, fanfictionwriter, strangers to lovers, s, f ✅

The Habits of a Broken Heart @softykooky - JJK | soulmates au, unrequited love, art student!JK, english student!Y/N, angst, fluff, subtle enemies to lovers ✅(done)

Into the Wilderness @gukyi - PJM | camp counselor au, unrequited love, friends to lovers

Oops @honeyj00ns - JJK | love at first hear, comedy, fluff, smut, “ You don’t know who the wonderful voice singing in the shower is, but you need to know” ✅

A Song Request @n8dlesoupguk - JJK | drabble, romance, where you always listen to the same radio station and he lives in the apartment complex opposite of yours ✅

Oh My God, They Were (Quarantined) Roommates @ot7always - JJK | roommates, quarantined life, college, smut, fluff ✅

Your Favorite Cardigan in Summer Nights @prodkkyu - JJK | one shot, angst, high school sweethearts, exes au, summer fling ✅

Crimson Park @heartbeatan - JJK | mafia, boss!reader, mystery, angst

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 (Final) ✅

Pranks @mysecretatticsstuff - JJK | enemies to lovers, prank wars, angst, smut, fluff ✅

Too Long, Didn’t Read @fortunexkookie - KTH | college, writers, enemies to lovers, fluff ✅ (done reading, love love this)

You’ve Got Mail @minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong - JJK | Barista!Reader, Graphic Design Student!Jungkook, angst, ex-lovers, enemies to lovers ✅ (done reading, love this)

Love at First Oink @glodenclosetau- KTH | social media au, neighbors, friends to lovers, piggies 🐽, romance, fluff, comedy ✅ (done - the cutest smau ever)

Sugar @seokjxnnie - MYG | ceo!yoongi, escort!reader, personal assistant, smut ✅

Amor Vincit Omnia @sunshyngal - MYG | Mafia au, arranged marriage, angst, violence, drama

My Euphoria @beyochu - JJK | fake dating au, fluff, ceo!jungkook, florist!reader, romance ✅ (done, really adorable)

All Aboard @ve1vetyoongi - KNJ | smut, officeworker!namjoon, enemies to lovers ✅

#bts au fic #bts fanfic #currentlyreading #ggukkiereadinglist #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #namjoon fanfic #seokjin fanfic #jungkook fanfic #hoseok fanfic #jimin fanfic #taehyung fanfic #yoongi fanfic

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reflections-in-a-critical-eye · 3 years

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Hi! So, why BTS? And why now? I want to follow your blog, but may I speak openly?

Writing about BTS through the lens of various critical theory is amazing. You are so smart. I am going to be honest about my own biases here, so feel free to trash me for it. I am anonymous after all so trash away as is your right. I understand.

There is often a supposition from critics, both professional and amateur, that the fandom- frequently presented as an immature, undifferentiated mob of cultists- is unable to think critically and must have basic things explained to us so that we don't throw stones at the free speech warriors of truth and standards (not saying that this is your attitude). I find that a little alienating. This fandom has existed for eight years. We have seen blogs and empires rise and fall.

I also don't think that it is an accident that the desire to project these more critical ideas into the public sphere usually comes after a year of being a full on ARMY (judging from my friends experiences). I have read peices about BTS's work referencing Lacan, neo-marxism, post-structuralism and other such stuffs. (My friend used to have an analytic blog that she chose to shut down a few years ago). I am going to be a bit blunt again, so trash if you must, but I think what was being exposed in those pieces was not only "critical thinking" but an excess of emotional investment in BTS, and the desire to intellectualize or justify it.

BTS got a lot of people through 2020. Those long content dives kept people sane. But now, based on a lot of the dissapointed PTD criticism, it feels like some people are waking up hung over and kind of bitter. Emphasizing the three English singles and ignoring BE, an album they worked on for months, seems like a symptom of this. Removing BE from the narrative seems to advance theories of BTS's 'Americanization', lack of creative agency and homogenization into some inferior or less Korean form of pop. BE should not be dismissed as irrelevant to this discourse. Many western artists take an average of 2 years between albums. BTS put out a lot of work. Maybe some of the distrust of criticism that we plebes have comes from the suspicion that critics may use art and events to construct a story. As a person of Asian heritage, LGO going #1 on Billboard meant a lot, emotionally.

I hope none of this caused offense. If it did please just ignore. Thanks for your great thoughts. Wishing you success in your goals.

Hi! Your ask did not cause offense, I'm more than fine to talk about this.

There's a lot to unpack here, so I'm taking it one by one.

Why BTS and why now? I chose to write about BTS because it's been an interest of mine for quite long. I mean, I didn't expect more than a year later to be here. My past obsessions usually lasted between 2 to 3 months, max, and everything felt so intense, but then it faded for a few years. (The last band I really focused on was Pearl Jam back in my first year of college while I was going through a bit of a difficult period in my life).

Yes, I have become a fan during the pandemic. It was sort of inevitable for it to become such a huge focus (escapism from the world outside and from writing a thesis). If I had started this blog a year ago, then you're right in one way: it would have been emotional investment and my desire to intellectualize and justify it. Basically that's what I did in the first few months (when I was on my own, in no community whatsoever). In order to explain myself and others why I'm spending time on this, I used to read research articles. But that's not the full truth and that's because to me such practice comes naturally, just as when I was 16 I couldn't just watch and enjoy movies, I had to read about them every day, or how I'm surrounded by pop culture just as everyone else, but I want to read books about it so I'm willing to do that for months. It's how I'm wired, so in a way, of course it had to happen with BTS as well.

The reason why I decided to make a blog now it's not necessarily because I ''woke up'' or that suddenly I see ''the truth''. Perhaps you may have had that impression because of my first post where I talked about PTD and the recent talks about ''Americanization''. I touched on that subject because I was closely following it, but that is not to say it was my only purpose on making a blog. I feel that, a year later, I'm more secure with my general knowledge and that of BTS. I couldn't have done it before that. I also plan to talk about other topics as well, not just what's ''hot'' at the moment. If I didn't have any other ideas, I wouldn't have made a blog.

And I'm certainly not here to teach anyone or ''plebes'' as you said, anything. And I also know that I'm not going to be the last to have a blog, write a think piece or publish something about BTS. People are allowed to engage in all types of discourse, depending on what they like and what they feel comfortable with. There are countless blogs with countless topics and perspectives. Some last, some don't, that's just how it is. I don't have huge important plans to teach the fandom, my ego is not that big and this is just a hobby for me. It's also not the first time I'm publishing something, but it is the first time on my own blog, despite being on tumblr for 10 years now.

But you are right when you talk about people forgetting about BE and I may add, Film Out which is more recent. I too thought that LGO going #1 on Billboard was incredible. It was a song in Korean that really reflected how people felt during the pandemic. Not just LGO, but the entire album is a true reflection of current times on top of being just simply good music. The album was promoted as well, different versions of the MV, the logs that preceded it focusing on production, it really made me look forward to it and it did not disappoint. The last few months of 2020 have been really good for what BTS has delivered. To go back to your argument, I don't think it's about constructing a story. Yes, in a way people could be accused of ignoring BE, but what's the problem with focusing on what's been going on at present? We shouldn't be surprised about that, PTD was released not too long after Butter. It was full of promotional material ever since May.

I stated in my blog introduction that I'm in film studies, so I will end up making a lot of references because I can naturally make my point across. Let's say I'm a fan of Xavier Dolan. I've watched his first films, fell in love with his aesthetics and his stories. Then he releases something that I don't really like, doesn't work for me. Then another. And then another. I'm thinking, ok, this is the direction he's going with, it's not as daring as what he used to do before, but so what? He gets the awards at Cannes, but I'm still writing a negative review of his film Mommy. Doesn't mean I'm wrong, doesn't mean the Jury at Cannes is wrong, it certainly doesn't mean that I don't like Xavier Dolan anymore. We're just looking for different things.

We write about things that are happening at the moment and how see them now. We make judgments of value based on our current knowledge. Who's to say that in 10 years people won't look back and think: those critics had no idea what they were saying about BTS (Antonioni's L'Avventura was booed at Cannes when it was released in 1960 and now it's considered a masterpiece and even taught in schools). But that's just a possibility right now and if in 10 years I'll remember that I used to write about this, perhaps my opinions could/would change. Maybe less than10 years :)

#asks

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khadij-al-kubra · 4 years

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Worst Impressions are the First (ch 7)

Main Characters: Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil (Human AU)

Pairings: Romantic LAMP

Word Count: 5036

AO3

<=PREV

NEXT=>

Author’s (longer than usual but it’s for good reason) Note: *The Apocalypse—2020. Zoom in on a plague rat turned writer. She has survived thesis projects, getting a Master’s degree, burnout, writing and illustrating a children’s book, being a slave for the U.S. census bureau, months of overthinking anxiety spirals, and one or two incidents involving an asshole skunk. But now, battle weary yet unwavering in her love of art and love for her loyal readers, this onesie-clad tea slurping book dragon....has finally arisen from the ashes*

I LIVE BITCHES!!!!!!! And I am SO SORRY for taking so long!!! I’ve been hard at work, been editing like a mad woman, and I even have a beta now! The gorgeous and talented @humbletortoise So I am OFFICIALLY off hiatus!!! *cue confetti canon*

Also, one of the biggest reasons I’ve taken so long to update is because I’ve spent the past month or so essentially retconning the fuck outta this fic. I realized looking back at earlier chapters in this story that, although I was proud of them at the time and greatly appreciate the positive reactions, they were...not my best work. (shitty first drafts if I’m being honest) That’s because, at the time, I was trying to split my attention between writing this fic and working on grad school stuff, which resulted in my writing for this not being as best of quality as it could have been upon first posting. This story deserves my best, and so do all of you. So now I hope to give you that.

I encourage you to go back and re-read the previous chapters up till now (trust me, they’re near unrecognizable to the first drafts, but in the best way). Or if you don’t feel like doing that, you can just continue on from here. totally cool. For the sake of convenience and my own sanity, I’ll attach the AO3 Link to this fic from the start. I may also start just posting chapter updates on tumblr but only have the link to the chapter and add my reader tags. Again, for the sake of my sanity because Tumblr is a bastard when it comes to posting fics. (Also PLEASE let me know if there are any tagging issues if anyone’s on my tags list; yet another reason i’m considering just linking my fics in the future)

Anywho, without further ado, at LOOOOOONG last, here is the next chapter!

Chapter 7 - (POV Roman)

When Roman had offered to walk with Logan to class, it was only partly out of an innate sense of chivalry; a side of himself that he rarely got to show on account of being a socially awkward gay disaster. Though mainly, he saw it as a chance to get to know his second soulmate better.

He certainly hadn’t expected two long minutes of civil but silent walking. Well, as silent as a stroll through their school could be with its usual racket buzzing around them. With a vocabulary as big as the continents of Africa and Eurasia combined, you’d think Logan would be more of a conversationalist. Alas. He merely walked in step with Roman. They glanced over at each other every so often, but Logan stayed tight lipped and seemingly impassive; fiddling with his bumblebee hair pin every now and again. Damn. Looked like he was going to have to make the first move.

Roman was bad at this. How did people usually…Oh yeah, common interest. That’s a thing. He wracked his brain for some sort of ice breaker. One that’d make him look cool and calm or, something, in front of Logan. He was a fairly decent student though not quite mathletes level. He could compliment his outfit maybe? Was that too forward? Too shallow? Maybe he could find common ground? That was as good a place to start as any.

“So! So uhh…What kind of music do you like?” Roman asked. Yeah, that’s good. Everybody likes music.

Logan glanced at him. “Can you be more specific?”

Roman’s brow furrowed. “I mean, like, your favorite genre of music to listen to?”

“Classical,” said Logan in a clipped tone.

“That’s cool. I don’t really listen to classical myself.”

Logan only hummed, his face neutral. Roman was really hoping for more than that. A few awkward seconds passed, then Logan spoke up.

“Are you perhaps a fan of the classic Sherlock Holmes novels?” He inquired.

“Um, I haven’t gotten around to the books yet, actually,” Roman said, scratching his earlobe. “I mean, I’ve heard great things about them. And I’m a big fan of the Robert Downey Jr. movies.”

“Ah. I see.” Logan said, giving him the judgiest side eye.

Come on, Roman thought. Give me something to work with. “Oh! What about theater?”

“What a frustratingly vague inquiry.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to get to know my soulmate a little better.” Ay come jode, work with me here, man!

Logan sighed. “While I understand and appreciate your intention, I believe ‘getting to know someone’ as you put it, requires a certain level of specificity. Anything less indicates a somewhat shallow level of sincere interest, and I greatly despise shallow conversation. That said, if you’re inquiring as to whether or not I enjoy theater, no. I don’t understand the concept of professional make believe, though I appreciate it as an art form. I assume you’re a fan?”

Is he seriously implying I’m shallow? Roman groused, pushing his red frames up the bridge of his nose. Ugh, forget it Roman. He’s throwing you a bone here. Take it.

“Obviously,” said Roman, gesturing dramatically. “I mean I’m no actor—Eesh. No. Yikes—but everything about the artform enthralls me. And I like all kinds of genres and eras of plays, from Shakespear to Ruhl, but musicals are by far my favorite, because like, there’s so much you can do with them design wise. I mean just look at how groundbreaking Hamilton was.”

For a second, Logan’s face actually softened, his eyes lighting up. But just as Roman thought they were finally about to make some progress, his stony companion was back to wearing that platinum puss.

“Ah. How… original.”

Roman blinked. “Are you saying my tastes are basic?”

“Well, yes.”

Augh! Okay. Yep. I don’t like him. Patton was going to be so disappointed, and Roman was too. He’d wanted so badly to get along with all his soulmates, but Logan was a snob! Way less intimidating than Virgil and his ilk, but still a jerk. I wonder if soulmarks can make typos or something? Thank the stars they’d already arrived.

Roman and Logan filed in with the rest of the class for seventh period. Somebody had the liberty of opening a window– the AC was still busted in this classroom– so for once there was actually a decent breeze cutting through the usual mucky Florida humidity. Still smelled like it would probably rain later. Good thing Roman had packed an umbrella just in case, Mom’s orders. His hair looked too good today to be wrecked by frizz.

Roman took a seat at his desk, running distracted fingers over the carved letters in the wood while he mulled over his predicament. Just look at him over there, thought Roman as he glared at Logan, not two rows away from him. Sitting with his hands clasped on the desk all smug—of course he’d be near the front—and with such disturbingly good posture. What is he, a robot? Who is he to call my interests basic, the NERVE! And okay, sure, like Hamilton, sometimes I get over excited and shoot off at the mouth. But great Zeus, does that guy show passion for ANYTHING besides academics? Roman blew a raspberry, plopping his head in his hands.

He always thought soulmates were supposed to get along, even as just friends for life. Balancing each other out, bringing out the best in you and forming a deep connection—that was the whole point. He sighed to himself. Cymbals clashed less than he and Logan did.

He was stirred from his brooding by the bell. Apparently Mr. ‘Call-me-Terrence’ Williams had materialized without him noticing. Okay fine, he should probably pay more attention, but he was having a crisis here.

“Afternoon everyone,” Terrence greeted in that measured, upbeat tone of his.

He draped his navy blue blazer over the back of his desk chair and rolled his shirt sleeves to the elbows. Roman pitied the poor guy; he had to teach sauna of a classroom all day. He could see the glisten of sweat on his teacher's smooth forehead as he wrote things on the board. Yet he still kept a pleasant attitude towards his students.

“Alright class!” Terrence started, “Today we’re covering the next section on the American Revolution. Specifically, the Battle of Yorktown...”

Roman mentally punched the air. My time has come. He opened his textbook to the right page but didn’t bother looking at it. He already knew most everything about Yorktown. Not just because he’d listened to the Hamilton soundtrack fifteen and a half million times, but also because he’d done actual research on the event and time period that the musical took place; There was always the off chance he’d get to stage crew or, heck, even dramaturg the show. He liked to be prepared.

“So the battle of Yorktown took place in 1781, but a great deal of its success was thanks to the French Allies. Many especially aided in fighting the British Troops surrounding New York. Now who can tell me where the French Soldiers first landed?”

Roman half raised his hand. He was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“Logan.” Terrence called.

Roman turned to Logan desk, where his hand was held high and mighty.

“The French Ally ships first landed in Rhode Island, then made their way to Chesapeake Bay,” said Logan, adjusting his glasses. Not even a hint of second guessing in his voice.

“That’s right!”

He almost missed the quick smirk on Logan’s frustratingly pretty face. Look at that smug—thinks he’s so smart...Okay yes, he is smart, but he doesn’t have to be a show off about it. Terrence continued through the passages, calling on a student every now and again to review. Of course, Logan got called on most and he got every answer right. Roman didn’t feel like raising his hand anymore.

“Of course there were many turning points in the revolution, but Hamilton’s return to the field for Yorktown was a key point.” Terrence continued on. “And keep in mind- this was a man who up till now had never been in a position of command before. Not to mention the mental strains he must’ve been under, especially having had to miss the birth of his son Philip, the first of three children he had.”

Wait a sec. “Well, that’s not right.”

Even though he’d muttered, apparently Mr. Terrence still heard him. “Come again, Roman?”

Shoot. “Um, I said,” Stop sounding timid, you know you’re right. “I said that was, um, wrong.”

The whole class turned to him. Oh great, history class has its eyes on me. Roman cleared his throat and tried to look taller.

“What I mean is: Hamilton had eight kids, not three. And on top of that, Phillip was born a few months after they won the Revolution, not during, so Hamilton didn’t miss the birth of his son. I mean sure, it’s a small thing, but the devil’s in the details as they say. Heh.”

Terrence gave the most insultingly bemused look. And Roman definitely heard a few kids snickering behind him. He glanced quickly at the culprits and felt his ears go hot. This is what he got for putting himself in the spotlight.

“Roman, I applaud you for participating in the class discussion,” Their teacher started gently, “but I’m afraid you’re wrong on this one. If you read your textbook close you’d see in the fifth paragraph where it mentions from one of his later letters—“

“Actually Mr. Williams, if I may, Roman is correct.”

Roman saw Logan at his desk, one hand raised while the other adjusted his neck scarf. Was the teacher’s pet actually… backing him up?

“It is a common misconception that Alexander Hamilton only had two children, even more so modernly, what with the musical having only named two of them. However Roman has clearly done his research on the plays historical accuracies, which is more than I can say for some.”

Logan shot a cool but scathing look at their recently snickering classmates and they withered. Roman fought the urge to point and laugh aloud. He did however stick his tongue out real quick. What? He could be shy and petty at the same time.

“My guess,” Logan continued, “is that this textbook edition is also either misprinted or outdated, judging by the publication date in the copyright section.”

Brows furrowed, Terrence looked at the textbook laid open on his desk. He flipped back to the front, before pulling out his cellphone—“I’m the teacher, I’m allowed to do this. You guys aren’t.”—and after what Roman guessed was a quick Google search, their teacher looked up. His eyebrows drawn in a ‘hm, well damn’ expression.

“Looks like you’re right, Roman. And thank you Logan for bringing to my attention about the textbooks. I’ll have to talk to the principal about hopefully getting some updated materials. But we’ll see how that goes,” Terrence, muttered the last part, though Roman was close enough to catch it. Terrence cleared his throat and moved back to the board. “Maybe if we call on assistance from the inside. Much like how the Sons of Liberty sent in Hercules Mulligan to spy on the British...”

“Perhaps if we knew of an immigrant who was unafraid to step in,” Logan said just under his breath.

No one else seemed to notice the reference, but when Roman did, he felt like a mini volcano about to burst rainbow lava. Apparently there was a lot more to his soulmate than first meets the eye; and now that he knew, Roman was determined to see more of it. The rest of class passed quickly and everyone filed out to the halls as the first bell for the last class period of the day rang. Roman made sure to catch up to Logan on the way out and staccato tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Logan?” He said.

When Logan turned, he swore time slowed down for a moment. The brilliant boy’s skirt flared around his waist, and somehow his skin glowed even under the dull, inconsistent school lights. His posture was erect yet natural, he could have been raised among nobility. Amidst the stench and clamor of loud sweaty students, Logan was as poised and striking as the goddess Athena. Oh...

“Yes, Roman?” Logan asked.

Roman gulped. “I uh, just wanted to thank you for backing me up in there.”

“Thanks are unnecessary,” Logan said. “I detest when someone is shamed by other students for speaking up in class, regardless of whether or not they have the correct information.”

“Well regardless, thanks for coming to my aid in the face of academic danger.”

“Dramatic, but my pleas—oof!”

A hurried passerby bumped into Logan from behind, rushing off with a half-assed ‘sorry’. Logan, caught off guard, stumbled right into Roman’s arms. The two looked at each other, cheeks filling with heat. Roman caught a whiff of something faintly floral on Logan, something natural– a lavender and honeysuckle perfume, perhaps. It was heavenly. They were still in the middle of foot traffic though, so he maneuvered them to the side. Which was tricky since Logan was still so close to him and also a good two inches taller with the heels.

“Well,” Roman flashed his pearly whites. “Seems you’ve fallen for me.”

Logan pulled away, but his lips quirked upwards in a teasing smirk. “Oh please, I merely stumbled into you.”

“Ah, but stumbling is the first step towards being swept off your feet.”

“Bold words from an abashedly charming homunculus in such an… eye catching ensemble.”

Did he call me charming!? He composed himself, “Hey, don’t let the sweater vest fool you. I may be short but I’ve got guns.”

“Aaah. But mind over muscle, as they say. Do you find yourself up to the task?”

“Only if it’s you, my brainy blossom.”

Roman’s class was in the other direction, but Logan didn’t need to know that. They walked through the halls, conversing. class was still in the next ten or so minutes, but Roman was having fun. Banter with Logan felt surprisingly easy. Natural like they’d been at it all their lives.

“By the way, was that a ‘Guns n’ Ships’ reference I overheard, pastel poindexter?” Roman asked.

Logan cleared his throat. “It… may have been, yes. I found myself unable to resist toppling the figurative dominos.”

“In other words, you seized the opportunity you saw,” Roman said, matching his own reference to the source’s cadence, which got a chuckle out of Logan.

“Precisely. Under more casual circumstances, I may have even recited Lafayette’s part.”

“You can rap? You can rap Guns n’ Ships? Like, the whole thing, no tongue twists?”

Logan stopped for a moment, turned to Roman. The taller boy cleared his throat, and after a moment wherein he seemed to mentally restrain himself, he simply adjusted his glasses. “I have an appreciation for poetry.”

Roman blinked rapidly. Holy shit, he’s an even bigger nerd than I am. He definitely needed to see that at some point.

They turned a corner, stopping just outside of the science room. Some students were going in to take their seats, and the teacher was already making notes on the board. Logan pulled an AP Physics book from his backpack, but made no move to leave, much to Roman’s delight.

“So then,” Roman leaned against the eggshell wall, “How come you acted so indifferent earlier and called my tastes basic? Oh, and I think I remember you also implied I was shallow?”

Okay, yeah, he was still kind of salty about that. But then he saw the shamed look on the nerd’s face, and Roman wished he could have taken it back. Logan looked at his shoes then back at him.

“To be candid I was… hesitant to show the full extent of my enthusiasm. In case you thought I’d be—I believe ‘being the most’ is the term— it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve caused someone to lose interest in conversing with me due to informational overload. I nearly bored my Aunt Patricia to sleep once talking about a fascinating article on jellyfish. And considering how I blundered our initial meeting—“

“Pfft, ya think?” He mentally slapped himself again when Logan went tight-lipped and turned to go. “No, no, wait. I—I’m sorry. Truly. ...Truth is, I was no gentleman either. I’m not always great at thinking before I speak. It’s why I’m so awkward around people. Takes a while for my true charming nature to shine through.”

“Clearly. Still, you show a level of interpersonal aptitude that I, well, lack.” Logan fiddled with his hair pin again and a stray hair came loose. “Reading people and expressing emotions has never really been—It’s something I struggle with.”

Much as Logan tried to maintain his cool composed posturing, Roman could tell that this was something that really bothered him. He tried so hard to seem put together and confident and serious, but really he was just as awkward and insecure as anyone. Roman smiled softly and stepped closer to Logan, reaching up to tuck the loose ebony strand behind his ear.

“Hey, everyone’s got things about themselves they can work on. Including me,” Roman smiled. “And believe me when I say that I will never judge you for being passionate about something you like. So if you ever want someone to ramble about jellyfish or Sweeney Todd to or—I dunno, calculators or something?—I’m all ears.”

Logan’s cheeks went pink and he gave a hesitant yet sincere smile. “That’s...very kind of you, Roman. And coincidentally, I also greatly enjoy Sweeney Todd. The use of iambic pentameter and alliteration to give a succinct synopsis to the story in just the first sentence alone is pure brilliance.”

“Right!? I mean the man’s a mad genius. I’m dying to design sets for one of his musicals someday. Like last year? I came up with the concept of having the Sweeney Todd sets done in a way that highlights the class differences with the characters.” Roman went into a small three minute ramble regarding the specifics before he cut himself off abruptly. Logan was blinking rapidly, a look of mild shock crossing his feature. Roman nearly started sweating; Had he messed this up again?

“That… that’s ingenious”

Roman’s ears were burning. Ohmygosh!Ohmygosh!Ohmygosh!

“Hey, Logan!” They both startled and turned to an impatient cheerleader with a ginger undercut and they/them pronoun pin shaped like a coffin. “What’re you doing just standing out in the hall, ya dork? Oh, hey Roman.”

“Uh. Hey, October,” Roman said, waving awkwardly to them.

“I told ya, Red, you only get to call me that when we’re working on a show.”

“Wait, October? Red? You two know each other?” Logan asked, brow arching.

“Kind of. They sometimes help out with costumes for the drama club,” said Roman. And they have terrible timing. I mean seriously Tobes, we were having a moment.

“Come on Lo, class is about to start, and you promised to go over my homework with me real quick beforehand. See ya ‘round, Ro.” Toby grabbed Logan’s hand and pulled him into the classroom. “You can fill me in on what you were doing with Red later.”

Logan followed his—apparently—friend into their classroom, but he shot Roman an apologetic look over his shoulder. Roman bounced a bit on the balls of his feet before following halfway into the room. Logan was in his seat with Toby showing him an open notebook. A teacher in a tight grey hair bun was writing on the board. Students at their seats were chatting, and some looked up at the short dork in red who burst in. For once Roman ignored them, his mind set on one last attempt at wooing his green skirted genius while he still had the nerve.

“Hey, Logan,” he said. “I’ve also got some great layout designs for an Into the Woods set. If you’re interested, maybe we can meet up after school and I can show them to you? Maybe we talk a bit more over iced lattes or something?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Prince, seventh period starts in five minutes,” said the teacher. “Unless you’ve suddenly transferred to my class, I suggest you stop distracting my favorite student and get going.”

“I’ll be gone in just a second,” he said. “Well?”

Logan smoothed the silky fabric of his pink scarf and said, “That sounds optimal, Roman. I’ll meet with you. By the first floor water fountain perhaps?”

Roman grinned. “I shall be counting the minutes.”

“Mr. Prince,” said the teacher with a warning glare.

Roman blew a kiss at Logan and then ducked out of the doorway. Was he embarrassed of himself? Oh definitely. Did he regret it? Absolutely not. He felt ten inches tall.

Now to complete the quest of making it to class in time. He slid off a shoulder strap to unzip his classic Mickey backpack, getting out the notebook and the relevant homework. He found them amidst the mess of spiral notebooks, granola bar wrappers, two textbooks and rainbow sticky notes. But something was missing from his folder.

“Where are those– it should be here.” He could’ve sworn he had his stapled the blocking notes in his folder. No, wait, the last place he saw them was— “Ah shoot! I left them in the tech closet again.”

Under normal circumstances, Roman would’ve grabbed them after school, but the auditorium was locked on weekends. He’d have to wait till Monday to get them and that just wouldn't do! he wanted to show Logan his notes today! I’ll bet David Korins never has these kinds of problems. Okay, okay. Still got four minutes. He could rush to the auditorium, grab the notes, and then head straight to class. I should have enough time, right? Right. Besides it was only Spanish Class, he was already pretty fluent after all those summers visiting his grandparent in Nicaragua. He spent most of class time dreaming up blocking notes anyway.

Despite not being totally convinced by his own argument, Roman immediately turned on his heel and started running in the opposite direction. After a teacher told him no running in the halls, Roman power walked through the halls with a skip in his step and a song in his heart, feeling absolutely gay in both senses of the word. Logan had actually called his idea ingenious! And the way those sharp eyes softened just for him- he would squeal if not for the fact that it would draw too many eyes to him. The halls were still filled with a few stragglers rushing to the last class of the day, and he was already trying not to get caught being late for class.

Now he knew how Maria felt in West Side Story. Y’know, before Act 2. Oh sure, they’d gotten off to a shaky start, but as the Bard’s adage on the course of true love said; and Roman felt it in his gut that this was certainly the start of true love. Not just with brilliant Logan but also with soulful Patton as well. He didn’t know how an awkward geek like him ever got so lucky in the soulmate department…Then again, there was still the matter of Virgil. So maybe not so lucky.

Roman touched his arm, remembered flustered yet flattering purple words. I know they both said Virgil is secretly sweet and I can sympathize with the terrors of closet town, but COME ON! Virgil? Really? That gloomy gladiator? There had to be a mistake in that. After all, Patton liked to see the good in everyone. Logan was much more of a skeptic, but he does seem to have a blind spot with sarcasm. Maybe Virgil was messing with them somehow. Even if he’s not a jerk jock, the guy’s still kind of a creepazoid; with his dark eyes and cheeta-esq gait and those probably huge muscles hidden under that bulky jacket and big hands...

His gay disaster train of thought came to a merciful halt as he reached the auditorium. Roman pushed open the doors, took a pause to breathe in the quiet comfort of this chapel of the arts. Okay yeah, chapel was maybe a little kind for the school’s auditorium which doubled as the drama Club’s rehearsal space/prop closet backstage/Mx Joan’s unofficial office because the school didn’t fund the arts programs enough. Even so this space was Roman’s sanctuary. The place where he could help create magic from the shadows, bring stories of those gone and living to life. Here, Roman found something of a community with his fellow backstagers, glee club losers, and budding thespians (the nice ones). So he loved every squeaky stage plank, every duck taped seat cushion and every speck of dust that floated in the spot lit air like fairies.

Mx. Joan wasn’t around for once, thankfully. Probably in the teacher’s lounge or rendezvousing with the school nurse or something. They were pretty chill and Roman knew he was their favorite student, but the choir director/drama club moderator/music teacher (this school really needs to fix its funding habits) wouldn’t have been too keen on Roman being deliberately late for class.

Roman walked down the aisle and to the side room by the stage. It was originally a janitor’s closet, but their club moderator transformed it into a ‘Crew Only’ Storage Unit… Okay it was still a closet, but with less bleach and more coils. This was where they kept important equipment for semester shows, like the lighting and sound boards, along with other supplies. Roman made a quick mental note to get more gaffer tape later, seeing their supply was low.

He looked through the small pile of scribbled and highlighted sheets with the lighting cues for the spring show. I’ve really gotta get a binder for these…Ah-Ha! Here you are! Roman pulled out the stapled sheets titled ‘Into the Woods Dream Set’ and carefully shoved them into his bag. Perfect timing too. He might just be able to make it to class after—

RIIIIIIIIIIING

“GAH!”

What the heck? He could’ve sworn he was alone in there, but that yelp just now said otherwise. Up close, Roman saw that the curtains were rustling, accompanied by sounds of heavy breathing and moaning, yet not a footstep to be seen or heard.

Holy SHIT, this place IS haunted! I KNEW that backdrop fiasco last semester wasn’t caused by cheap slit plywood. My supplies are the best quality allowance money can buy. Great Macbeth’s bloody knife, I TOLD Kai we should've sprung for a ghost light! Remus always teased him for being superstitious but look who’s laughing now.

He dashed back into the crew closet and grabbed the heavy push broom leaning in the corner. Roman Prince was NOT about to be caught unawares and possessed by the ghost of a disgruntled student without a fight. He would defend his domain of imagination!

Roman slowly climbed the stage steps, wielding his broom like a bow staff, turned the curtain corner where the noises were coming from and was about to release a war cry on the—

“Virgil?”

Roman nearly dropped his weapon at the sight of Virgil Alighieri—star athlete, object of his fears and supposed soulmate—curled in on himself trembling and crying.

His jacket was pulled over his head like a hood, yet Roman could see the tear stained face peeking out from underneath. Virgil’s eyes were squeezed tight, making the dark circles he’d never noticed before more prominent. There was no denying the athlete had muscle but he was more lithe—thin enough for Roman to wonder if the guy ate enough. Virgil’s trembling could rival a chihuahua, shaky hands clutching his knees, and he was clearly in the midst of a bad panic attack.

Roman had built Virgil up in his mind as being like some odd combination of Hades and Ares. The strong silent wolf within his pack of jocks, a surging thunderstorm just waiting for the right nerd to come along and piss him off enough to strike down like the bolt of Zeus.

Someone to be afraid of.

But now? Seeing him in this state, all alone and whimpering like a wounded animal...it broke Roman’s heart.

He set the broom down gently and carefully crouched down in front of Virgil. “Virgil,” he said softly. “Virgil, can you hear me?”

Virgil let out a breathy sob but otherwise didn’t seem to register him. Just how long had he been sitting here like this?

Roman was at a loss for what to do. Sure he knew plenty of people with anxiety but never saw someone having an actual panic attack before. He did know that if he didn’t help the other calm down soon, Virgil was liable to pass out. He’d never wanted to hug someone so badly in his life. Roman tentatively reached out a hand but stopped. What if touching him makes it worse? What if I startle him so badly he actually has a heart attack!? Maybe I should get the nurse. But I can’t just leave him like this.

He caught sight of the colorful soulmarks written on Virgil’s arm. Saw his own harsh thoughts: ’Dios mio, he’s staring right at me—like he wants to punch my face!’

Roman took his shame and forged it into steel. I won’t abandon you...my soulmate.

Virgirl’s let out a hiccuped cry, and this gave Roman an idea. Something from back when he was a child. It was probably stupid and a long stretch, but it was all he could think of. He readjusted himself so that he was now sitting right next to Virgil, making sure not to startle him. Roman cleared his throat, then as softly as he could, he began to sing.

“Come stop your crying, it’ll be alright.

Just take my hand, hold it tight.”

Roman one and carefully gentled his hand over Virgil’s. After a moment, he felt a light squeeze, and that encouraged him to keep going.

“I will protect you from all around you.

I will be here, don’t you cry…”

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duhragonball · 3 years

Video

youtube

I’m posting this video as a reminder to myself to sit down and watch it when I’ve got an hour and forty-five minutes to spare. My understanding is that it explains the “pro vs. anti” thing that I’ve seen people talk about, but never in enough detail that I could figure out what the thing was that people were supposed to be for or against.

I’ve been a huge nerd for over thirty years now, and it always feels like I’m just close enough to some big argument that I hear about it, but I’m never close enough to actually know what the hell it’s about. I will hear people say, “Oh, the fandom is so toxic”, and I have no idea what they’re talking about, because it’s usually a bunch of stuff that went down where I never would have been able to see it. I don’t know if that makes me smart for staying out of these controversies, or clueless for being so unaware of them.

This has always been my approach: if I like a thing enough, I might devote some of my internet presence to that thing. I don’t really see myself as part of the “Dragon Ball fandom” any more than I’m a part of the “wrestling fandom” or the “chemistry fandom.” If I ever started a Star Wars blog, that would only mean I was bored enough to do it. It would not mean that I had entered the “Star Wars fandom,” something I presumably did in 1980.

The “wrestling fandom” has this shibboleth called “the IWC”. I think it dates back to the 90s, when fans using the internet could talk about backstage politics and openly acknowledge that the matches were fake. This led to terms like “internet wrestling community”, to distinguish these kinds of fans from the mainstream. It’s 2021, and everyone and their mother is on the internet now, but for some reason people still talk about “the IWC”, and blaming “them” for everything that’s wrong and toxic in professional wrestling. If only those keyboard warriors would go outside and touch some grass, and let the real wrestling fans enjoy the product.

I think there’s a similar phenomenon in other "fandoms” , where the public perception of it is shaped by vocal minorities: the most toxic fans, the most well-known fans, or the most communal fans, the ones who make an active effort to band together under a common banner, for better or worse. They just don’t have a name for their boogeyman, like “the IWC”, a name that falls apart under scrutiny. If everyone’s using the internet, then it’s silly to blame an “internet community” for making things worse.

So maybe the term “fandom” has reached a similar obsolescence. In theory, it should only mean “people who like (x)”, but in practice it seems to mean “people who make it their business to be part of the fandom.” But it seems like the only way to be that big a contributor is to be really popular, or tribalist, or toxic, or some combination of the three.

I remember writing a thing about Dashcon after it happened, and I was mostly like “What the hell was that supposed to be?” I don’t think I even knew about Dashcon until it happened, and I was like “Oh, I could have gone to this,” and then I realized I had no idea what it was trying to be. I always thought of my online presence as a way to share hobbies, talk about favorite TV shows, that sort of thing. The Dashcon crowd seemed to think they were making “Tumblr University” a real thing, like they were trying to start a cult and not enough people showed up. Not everyone who watches Xena is qualified or inclined to organize XenaCon ‘97.

Maybe I should have just started watching Sarah Z’s video in the time it’s taken me to write this, but I’m kind of in the groove so I’m going to keep going. I want to follow this line of thought. “Popular, toxic, and tribalist” seems to work well as three categories of fandom problems, as I’ve seen them.

1) A “big name fan” goes too far, or gets too big for their britches, and people turn on them en masse. Think Logan Paul filming a dead body in Japan. There’s smaller versions of that all the time.

2) Entitled assholes harass someone over one thing or another. Twitter has really opened my eyes regarding the sheer gall of some people when it comes to art theft, reposting without credit, etc. They will not only double down on their perceived right to screw over content creators, but they will then turn on the same creators for daring to stand up for themselves. This also extends to professionals as well, like when Vic Mignogna’s fanbase decided to turn into his personal army against Funimation and the voice actors listed in his ill-advised defamation lawsuit.

3) Us versus them mentality. I think “pro vs. anti” has something to do with shipping characters below a certain age range. I got that impression once, but something tells me it’s kind of an amorphous argument, and I’ve seen people expand “age of consent” into all sorts of things. Is it okay to “age up” a character? What about two adults with a big age-gap? What if a character just “looks” younger than they are? What if some people? Write creepy shit? To cope? I’m pretty sure a lot of this is just trying to find a hill to die on, a hill popular enough and noble enough to make it worth their while.

Loyalty has been on my mind for a while. This idea that if you support someone hard enough, long enough, they will reciprocate that support when you need it. But it doesn’t always work that way. You can put all this time and energy into a relationship and then it turns out the other person was taking you for granted the whole time. For you, it might be a big deal, but they can take it or leave it. It’s an imbalance, and it’s not a healthy one.

And all three of the above are examples of that imbalance. These toxic movements always seem to center around some cult-of-personality, like an artist or a voice actor. They might be a good person, and a group of people try to take them down out of spite, or for sport. Or they might be a jerk, and they throw their weight around and people will defend them out of social inertia, or a misplaced sense of loyalty. Or there might not be a BNF involved at all, and it’s just groups of people rallying around whatever flags they’ve made up for themselves. They each try to demonize the other side to make themselves feel noble, a mutual admiration society. But I think it always comes down to loyalty, this idea that if I just stick with this person or cause long enough, it’ll pay off later. That’s why so many of those Capitol rioters thought Trump would pardon them, even though he didn’t even know their names.

That’s not a “fandom” issue. That’s a human issue, and I’m not sure there’s a fix for that. I’ll see people lament how terrible a particular fandom is, and I always think “I never hear about the good ones.” I think that’s because there are no good or bad fandoms, only good or bad experiences.

In any event, I think I’ve reached the conclusion that loyalty isn’t something to be given lightly, since it isn’t always returned. The hill you’re dying on can’t love you back, and sometimes the people dying on it with you aren’t that into you either.

#to do

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maniclemons · 4 years

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Yolanda, Camp Sensibility and the "Oscar Wilde Of The Camera"

Okay, so I was minding my business reading stuff for my work on dream narratives in popular culture and suddenly I was attacked at the footnotes section of one of the academic papers (which happens all the time tbh). The author mentioned in passing that, well, there is a musical called YOLANDA AND THE THIEF (1945) which just happens to be one of three Vincente Minnelli musicals that have been characterized as a self-conscious camp style of visual excess. The author argued that the camp style in musicals, especially those made by the Arthur Freed unit at MGM, was particularly appropriate to the even greater visual excess of the dream sequences.

So yeah, of course I did a double-take and immediately thought of Donde estás Yolanda (Sherlock and John reunion theme) - thanks for the opportunity to refresh the hell out of it @thepineapplering !

FEATURES OF INTEREST of “Yolanda and the Thief” in no particular order:

• The "dream ballet" dream sequence (inspired by Dali); • Repressed homosexuality manifesting itself through nightmares and fear of entrapment in a heterosexual marriage; • Integration of straight romance (plot) and gay-inflected visual codes; • Critique of a capitalist culture industry from the point of view of a queer professional embedded in it (writer/director/set designer/crew member etc.) • Something else?

Also of interest: Holmesosexuality: On Mark Gatiss’s Camp

As I am not, academically speaking, a specialist in queer theory, all the references can be found below.

I haven’t seen anyone writing about this particular musical in connection with Sherlock yet, but I might be wrong, because my tumblr search skills still suck a bit. Anyways, it was fun and added more contextual layers to my own understanding of the show!

“YOLANDA AND THE THIEF” is a 1945 American Technicolor Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer “Arthur Freed Unit” musical-comedy film set in a fictional Latin American country called Patria. It stars Fred Astaire, Lucille Bremer, Frank Morgan, and Mildred Natwick, with music by Harry Warren and lyrics by Arthur Freed. The film was directed by Vincente Minnelli and produced by Arthur Freed. The “Freed Unit” refers to the “unit” (studio team within the larger studio production house that was MGM) headed by lyricist and producer Arthur Freed.

"Yolanda and the Thief" is one of three Vincente Minnelli musicals that have been characterized as a self-conscious camp style of visual excess, the other two being " Ziegfeld Follies " (1946) and…….. "The Pirate" (1947). As Jane Feuer suggests, "a gay subcultural reading would elevate these Minnelli masterpieces of the 1940s above the currently more esteemed Freed Unit musicals of the 1950s – "Singin' in the Rain" and "The Band Wagon", whose sophistication stems more from their smart Comden and Green scripts than from elements of excess in their mise-en-scene."

CAST:

Fred Astaire as Johnny Parkson Riggs Lucille Bremer as Yolanda Aquaviva (aqua-viva? as in Latin vivere/vita? as in "aqua vita(e)" which is "an archaic name for a concentrated aqueous solution of ethanol" and at the same time a type of magical water which brings people (mostly heroes) back to life in Slavic mythology?) Frank Morgan as Victor Budlow Trout (a friend of Johnny's and literally his partner in crime)

FEATURES OF INTEREST (in no particular order):

The narrative of Yolanda offers a romance between a naive and wealthy young woman, Yolanda Aquaviva (Lucille Bremer), who is tricked by a con man, Johnny Riggs (Fred Astaire), into believing that he is her guardian angel. Johnny plays upon Yolanda's gullibility in order to convince her to confer her power of attorney on him, but just as he is ready to depart with the goods, he finds himself romantically and erotically drawn to her. His attraction to her surprises Johnny, because he ostensibly does not expect to find Yolanda a figure of erotic contemplation, and his jaded sensibilities lose out to his romantic impulses. But moments of camp playfulness in the film offer another reading of Johnny's surprise at discovering himself in a seduction beyond his overarching greed and cynicism, for there are strong possibilities for seeing him as gay.

DREAM SEQUENCE BALLET

The "dream ballet" sequence is an extended (approximately 15 minute) routine for Astaire, Bremer, and various others, which Minnelli has described as, "the first surrealistic ballet in film". Its Dali-esque scenery sort of mirrors "real-life" Patria which Yolanda’s Aunt Amarilla called “an out of the world place” elsewhere. That’s really what Minnelli was going for here. He seeks to evoke a feeling that Johnny have left behind what he knows and entered a world of mysticism and dreams.

This dream sequence ballet opens with Astaire dressed in a remarkable dandy outfit with a pair of off-white satin pajamas. Becoming restless in his bed, Johnny dresses and walks through the streets of Patria's unnamed capital, where he moves into increasingly surreal landscapes in which various women trap him in symmetrical dance steps: washerwomen unfold furls of different-colored fabric in stark geometric patterns that form a prison out of which he cannot escape. Yolanda’s entrance into the dream is grandly spooky. Against the backdrop of a Dali-esque desert landscape, Yolanda rises from a pool of water wrapped head-to-toe in pale scarves that float all around her. Her face is obscured, a look reminiscent of René Magritte’s 1928 painting The Lovers, and more suggestive of alienation than romance. Once Johnny unwraps Yolanda from her scarves, the spookiness of the sequence dissipates a little, but the mood has been set, and when the unwrapped Yolanda puts her arms around Johnny and sings, “Will You Marry Me?,” the effect is mildly sinister. The sequence concludes as Yolanda dons a set of outrageously long bridal veils and Johnny gets one of them wrapped around his neck like a noose when he attempts to flee.

In the "Will You Marry Me?" number Johnny wrestles with the trauma of potentially being trapped in a marriage to Yolanda for her money. Yolanda appears throwing off a series of veils trimmed in coins, and sirens in short dresses and high heels entice him with a cask into which Yolanda has dispensed her gold. The number effectively links Johnny's fear of marriage with his greed, or, more properly according to the dream-logic of the "Will You Marry Me?" sequence, his greed is the film's alibi for not stating more directly his desire not to bond with a woman, no matter what her beauty or wealth. The film temporarily addresses the question of whether Johnny will accede to the demands of marriage through the camp art direction's treatment of him as gay.

So this is more specifically a nightmare ballet, one that takes marriage—the typical happy ending of many an MGM musical (including—spoiler alert—this one)—and transforms it into a thing of anxiety and horror.

While the dramatic function of the dream ballet is questionable, its adventurous spirit and execution should not be ignored. Bear in mind that Agnes de Mille’s dream ballet for the original stage production of Oklahoma! first appeared on Broadway in 1943, just two years before Yolanda and the Thief hit movie screens. Yolanda and the Thief also predates The Red Shoes by three years and An American in Paris by six. Minnelli was staking out new territory here, trying out a storytelling technique that he and other filmmakers would employ with greater success in the future.

STYLE

What is labeled as the integration of straight romance and gay-inflected visual codes is more generally within the camp sensibility what we might call "style," or more particularly, a style of excess. James Naremore describes this differentiated style as Minnelli bringing “a rarefied sense of camp to musical numbers, making…[him] ‘an Oscar Wilde of the camera.’” To be an “Oscar Wilde of the camera” would of course conjure images not only of queer sexuality, but a simultaneous devotion to the aesthetics: one who would converse, write, lecture on subjects ranging from poetry to interior design. This parallels Sunsan Sontag’s assertion that “Clothes, furniture, all the elements of visual décor, for instance, make up a large part of camp. For camp art is often decorative art, emphasizing texture, sensuous surface, and style [sometimes] at the expense of content.” Indeed, Sontag begins her “notes on camp” by quoting Oscar Wilde’s famous aphorism, “one should either be a work of art, or wear a work of art.” However, camp is not simply an adoration of colour and texture, but a certain critical – comical, even – perspective on heterosexist and gender normative culture, both male and female.

And beyond discussion of pure aesthetics of delight, camp within the Freed Unit is also indicative of a process of labour as method of negotiation between queer identity and heteropatriarchal capitalist hegemony (critique of a culture industry from the point of view of a queer professional embedded in it).

AUDIENCE REACTION

Campy style within Freed films circulated to noncamp audiences under the more general idea of their being “stylized” or “witty". The comments of film-goers who attended previews of, for example, Minnelli's "The Pirate" confirm that the studio knew that the film tended to emphasize its own spectacular art direction while sometimes disregarding streamlined storyline and clear characterization. In the cards, where anonymous viewers offered praise and disparagement, a repeated emphasis on the art direction arises: "the sets detracted from the people and the music was too loud," "not realistic enough," "entirely too surrealistic," "the beautiful background settings were exceptional," "plot rather thin," "truly one of the most exciting pictures from every standpoint, direction, artwork, color, dancing, scoring," "beautiful coloring," "slightly fantastic plot not developed in as natural and realistic a way as it could have been," and perhaps the most telling, "Minnelli back to the small minority who really appreciate him." The above comments would suggest that these viewers had screened a film by Dali or Bunuel, not the product of MGM after twenty years of corporate film-production experience.

Which takes us to the next (and very familiar) aspect…

MISE-EN-SCENE VS. STORYLINE

Musicals have largely been understood as primarily narrative films at the expense of other features. The plotline that structures many musicals is that of straight romance and marriage. The world in which a man and a woman meet and find initial attraction, in which their union is frustrated, and where ultimately the prohibitions to heterosexual bonding are overcome through the mediation of the song and dance number is typically the world of the musical. But there is more to the making of musicals beyond the plotline and its ancillary subplots, all of which are said to be brought to happy closure at the film's completion.

What seem to have been the memorable features of Freed unit musicals for contemporaneous viewers were their dazzling sets, costumes, use of color (in terms of film stock, set painting, and lighting) and choreography. These specific elements of film production are perhaps most likely what the various viewers are locating as the Freed unit's distinguishing style, or, to remember the viewer who commented on the "small minority" who might be interested in Minnelli films, that this style was idiosyncratic enough to have both fans and detractors. This style distinguished the unit's films from those of its rivals.

Minnelli's work habit of plotting a film's numbers by creating a series of paper dolls and scaled-down sound stages in which to place these figures suggests that his first impulses were to conceive of a film through its mise-en-scene rather than its storyline. Within the limits of the system, Minnelli was able to say a good deal about sets and costumes, and he usually influenced the overall visual conception of his films.

Dance (and singing) performance disrupts the narrative by momentarily disregarding the force of the story for the power of the spectacular dance routine. Likewise, the backdrops and costumes perform a similar function but that we tend not to notice their potential to antagonize narrative because, of course, most often the disjunctive features of the mise-en-scene are maintained in the film's movement back to the storyline.

Just as Johnny emerges from his dream shaken but unsure of what it means, the historian of camp production can perhaps trace the presence of a masked homosexual narrative only by remembering the strange details which seem to have been so easily forgotten.

REFERENCE:

Tinkcom, Matthew. Working like a Homosexual: Camp Visual Codes and the Labor of Gay Subjects in the MGM Freed Unit. Cinema Journal, Vol. 35, No. 2 (Winter, 1996), pp. 24-42.

Turner, Lexi C M K. A Queer Translation: “Camp” Sensibilities of the Classical Hollywood Musical Era, vs. the 1970s Desertion of Narrative Utopia.

Cohan, Steven. Incongruous Entertainment: Camp, Cultural Value, and the MGM Musical (Durham N.C.: Duke University Press, 2005).

Dunne, Michael. American Film Musical Themes and Forms (Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland & Company, 2004).

Cohan, Steven. “Introduction: Musicals of the Studio Era.” In Hollywood Musicals, the Film Reader. Edited by Steven Cohan. 1-15 (London and New York: Routledge, 2002).

Feuer, Jane. The Hollywood Musical, 2d ed. (London: BFI Books, 1993).

Sontag, Susan. “Notes On ‘Camp.’” In Against Interpretation and Other Essays. 275-292 (London: Penguin, 2009).

https://www.brightwalldarkroom.com/2018/10/24/yolanda-and-the-thief-1945/ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yolanda_and_the_Thief

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#donde-estas-yolanda #bbc sherlock #everything is sherlock #context #my meta

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yume-fanfare · 3 years

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hi i am that anon from like 29th Dec (last dang year) who said i read ur tsuki no hime and loved it and that u understand Aizou. i have read more of ur stuff since then and now i NEED to ask you for writing advice, on both characterization and general writing tips since I didnt mention it before. Sorry about that! i just forgot i sent an ask and i do not get notifs at all (or does anon asks not get notifs?) Also, ART STUDENT! That's why the nice art and art leaning!! I feel smart for sensing it

oh yup, tumblr doesn't send notifs for anon asks! but i'm glad you did see the answer anyway

this post is hideously long, so answer under the cut!

so, on characterization: it is mostly a matter of what would they say, rather than what you want them to say. the joke about "the characters do what they want to" instead of what the writer wants is pretty much true if you want them to be in character lol (that's why sometimes a little bit of OoC isn't too bad)

checking the source material is the most important thing: look at prior similar interactions the characters have had and how they reacted

this is kind of hard with LIPxLIP, as there aren't that many translated texts about them but with honeyworks the most canon and reliable thing to use as reference are the mvs. the mvs are drawn in a way that can pretty much be understood even if you don't have the lyrics, and sometimes it's even better if you can't read them, to properly focus on the images better

look at their expressions closely: while aizou is always explosive in his anger, yuujirou often has a more indifferent expression. so, when they fight, aizou is probably the one to blow up first while yuujirou maintains his composure better. it's kind of the classic "this was only a brief passing panel but i am going to expand on it" www

but the thing about fanfiction is that it's always a bit of a character analysis in itself. you don't start writing having already a color-coded folder of possible situations and reactions a character would have for each setting. you just throw the characters in a scenario and then think from there onwards, and eventually you'll be able to have the folder of situations and what you think their reactions would be like. (though, this links back to the prior point, if the characters have gone through a similar situation in canon, use that as guide! plus, finding little references to canon when reading is always fun)

for general writing, i'm going to mostly talk about my own experiences and process! i'm in no way a professional though

the basic is reading a lot. not just books but also fanfic. in fact, since you're writing fanfic, i Encourage you to read fanfic. even if your story ends up novel length, the way of treating the story is different from that of an actual novel. for example, because you're working under the premise that everyone knows the characters already. the general style of fics is different as well.

in fact, the style is the main reason i'm saying this slfkslfkslkf

read a lot of stuff and find a style you like. think of it as sewing together pieces from here and there to make a frankenstein amalgamation: this person's metaphors, the comparisons from here, the descriptions from there

personally, i adore the "long one-shot with a long title formatted (like this)" fics that are mostly feelings and descriptions and as little dialogue as possible, and some that occasionally play with the "show don't tell" rule, and some months ago i read a book whose descriptions amazed me because you could feel what the character was focusing on the most, rather than being general descriptions of the situation (i actually have a lot of thoughts about descriptions but that's a post for another day). but also i really like dialogue and plot-driven stories, descriptions can get boring and before trying to break rules, you have to be really good at following them

but, let's go step by step: developing an idea

for this i'm going to mostly reference the multichap i finished a while ago as an example

i started with just a few vague concepts in mind: non-idol au with aizou who does some sport and likes music but is insecure about his singing and yuujirou who does some music related thing and encourages him to sing in a way that's somehow related to the hozier song to noisemaking (sing), because it's what inspired me to write in the first place

then, from then onwards i wrote down what would happen in the first chapter of the story bullet-point-list-style, including things like the roommates part or the clubs the boys were in (at first yuujirou was in the choir club lol the change was a last second decision that idk why i took) and then bits of dialogue here and there that would be The Turning Points. those first dialogues were for the fight at the end of ch 1, the apology-date in ch 3 and then some vaguely unused ones for the "yuujirou encourages aizou" part, as those were the first key moments i thought of

because, since it's enemies to friends to lovers, an important aspect was character development

not all fics have character development bc not all of them are long enough (if you're aiming for short and sweet then there's no need). but if they do, i recommend you write down how the character was at the beginning of the story and then how they were at the end and then fill in the middle later, think of what those key turning points that made the character change were (the more little things you add, the more gradual it'll be)

samishigariya illustrates this very nicely: the song starts and finishes with the same lines, but the ending ones feel more light-hearted. the beginning has pre-arisa ken and pre-getting-along-with-yuujirou aizou, when they were the lonely people the title mentioned, and the ending, when they're not lonely anymore. the in between can be seen in depth during the other songs: ken before arisa was a playboy who didn't take love seriously, but after meeting her he realized that games were not all there was to love; and aizou used to be quite cranky and high-key a loner, but then he "meets precious things and knows of love". i will not elaborate on that because this isn't an aiyuu post but Oh You Know

for the fic, aizou would go through that same process, more or less: someone who doesn't really form meaningful connections with people but who, in the end, would end up having quite a bunch of people who care about him as his relationship with yuujirou advances too

since the relationship was the main focus, i wrote a very simple outline for how it would develop throughout 5 hypothetical chapters that was just: 1. civil w each other but mostly bad > 2. bad > 3. half friends > 4. pining > 5. date

and then with that in mind and the bullet point list, the final basic outline ended up like this:

there were scraped ideas and ideas that made it in later, but i believe having a simple outline, a bare skeleton to add things to, is important. stories need continuity, development requires a prior buildup

it's especially important in multichapter fics where you post as you write, you need to have a more or less clear idea of what's going to happen because you can't ignore scenes you've already posted

shorter stories don't need it as much, you can think as you go, but it's still helpful to know where you're going with things to avoid getting stuck

and, on getting stuck: don't be afraid of deleting things. if you can't figure out how to continue things, then delete the situation and start again. it might feel like you'd be wasting time but in the end, it is so much better than being stuck on the same scene for weeks

in fact, you don't have to write in order. jump to the next scene and you'll figure it out later. you Can write the scene you want to write and then build everything else around it

it's normal to write a scene and then realize it would make more sense later in the story, or that it would be better if you added another scene earlier, or sometimes you just find it easier to jump from one part of the story to another. rely on your outline to keep track of what you've written, what you have left to write and what's the best way to arrange your story. make your story understandable

which bring us to editing

there's a lot of much better posts on editing stories, but yeah ctrl+f is your best friend: don't repeat yourself too much. and be sure to vary sentence and paragraph length, as well as sentence structure, to give dynamism to the writing

now, i've mentioned before the show, don't tell rule, but i'm going to talk a bit more about it because it's quite important

once again there's a lot of posts that explain more in depth what it is, so i'm not going to expand too much on that, but, very basically, try to avoid things like "then some time passed and they became friends". explain it: what happened exactly? how did they become friends? if it's important, show it to us, instead of summarizing

since things like these make the story longer, it also gives room for more development and proper explanation for things that happen

for example, the fic was originally going to start with them already in the room, and the whole situation would have been explained in a single paragraph somewhere, but by actually adding the scene where they first arrive to the dorms and argue with the lady at the main desk, the story flows better and it let me actually describe their first meeting

and uuuhhh i think that's all? this took super long to write i hope i didn't forget any super basic stuff lol

i want to add that for enemies to lovers i greatly recommend this post bc it's super good but yeah i think that's basically it, if you have any more specific questions just shoot me an ask

#god this is so long #how should i tag this #tutorials #i guess #anonymous #preguntas

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haienatrash · 4 years

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When They’re Out of The Limelight

Note: Hi everyone, I hope you guys are doing fine. I decided to delete the first version of this fanfic and write another one with a different ending, coz I received some feedbacks (not just from tumblr but also on twitter) saying that the ending was depressing and that I was too cruel to the characters (which was true, i admit that and i’m sorry. Lol.) I love my moots and I don’t want them to be sad. So here you go, this version contains two parts, hope you guys enjoy the story! - haienatrash

Part I - The After Party

June 5, 2020 - Baeksang Arts Awards 2020

"Everyone's looking for you." Someone with a sexy baritone voice said which made her twirl in surprise. It was Ju Ji Hoon. He was still in his simple yet gorgeous tuxedo with the brooch pin that she had chosen for him to use that night.

Hye Soo smirked at him, a bottle of beer on her left hand. It was that familiar tipsy grin that Geum Ja often use to Hee Jae when they would drink a bottle or more of Soju in Hyena. She sipped a beer before turning her back on him again.

Ji Hoon on the other hand, smiled while admiring her voluptuous figure from the back, taking note of the small details just like the back slit of the dress, how it exposed a little of her skin and the Bulgari Diamond Serpenti flawlessly resting on her back down to the middle of her spine. He was truly amazed at how the black Ralph Lauren dress fitted her body perfectly, flaunting those curves that she maintained through the years.

But his brows creased when he realized she wasn't wearing the white coat she had earlier. She must have left it on the venue downstairs, he unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket and pulled it off from his torso as he slowly walked towards Hye Soo, the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Upon reaching her, he carefully placed the tuxedo jacket on her shoulder to keep her warm before leaning on the railing that reaches up to their abdomen. His gesture made her look up at him, but he was ignoring her stare pretending to look at the 360-degree view of Seoul. They were on the rooftop of the hotel where the Baeksang Arts Award 2020 after party was held.

"Hoon-ssi it's fine, you don't---"

"You're wearing a dress." He cut her off "Exposing your shoulder and your back..." He paused staring back at her before he continued what he was saying "Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against you wearing that sexy dress, but I don't want you to get cold, alright Sunbaenim?" He rolled his eyes the way Hee Jae did, that made Hye Soo chuckle, amused by how Ji Hoon still has a bit of his character with him.

"Hee Jae is that you?" She asked him still giggling a bit "Sorry, but Geum Ja's not here tonight."

"Who says I want Geum Ja? I want Hye Soo." He said not looking away from her.

There was no response from her, now the only thing they could hear was the sound of the gusting wind. Their gazes were locked, she could feel the blood rushing to her face turning her cheeks into crimson red. He never fails to make her feel this way as if it was the first time that someone said those words to her.

"But you can't." She said bitterly, looking away from him, setting the bottle of beer on the railing cap.

Ji Hoon looked down, "You don't trust me, do you?"

"Trust isn't the issue in here. It's the age, the opinion of everyone around us and the career... Your career."

"I'm willing to give it all up---"

"Well I don't, I wouldn't let you give up everything you worked for just to be with me." She cut him off staring back at him. "You're young, you're smart and you're talented, there's so much ahead of you. Don't waste it with someone like me and I am sure you'll find someone much better, someone who can give you a family, a son, or maybe a daughter." She explained but it seems like he wasn't listening to any of it.

"Then I'll take whatever you can give. I love you, and I know you feel the same... Please?" He grabbed both her hands and kissed her knuckles. His eyes started getting wet.

"Ji Hoon, stop." She said pulling her hands away from him.

"This is so unfair. I just wanted to be with you." She saw how tears pooled down his cheeks as he said those words. She felt her heart broke into million pieces, watching him weep because of her.

She couldn't help herself, but extend her hand to his face, cupping his cheek wiping his tears using her thumb. Then she pulled him closer for the last time and caught his lips with hers, kissing him slowly and softly making it linger, trying to ease his pain.

Hye Soo pulled out of the kiss before saying "Let's not see each other again."

Hye Soo walked away from Ji Hoon and did not dare to look back anymore, because she would just do the foolish thing and gave into her emotion again. It's better to end it right now than to fuck everything up later on.

Part II - The Resolve

June 24, 2020 - Hyena BD Commentary Filming Day

Ji Hoon tapped the shoulder of his driver reminding him to take the day off and park the car on the fifth level before he came out of the black Mercedes Benz. He was wearing a plain navy-blue colored t-shirt with a large print on the back and a pair of jeans his hair was neatly brushed up the way Hee Jae would like it, with a black face mask and sunglasses on, which helped him disguise himself and not be noticed by the public. He entered the building and walked straight to the elevator, he pressed the thirteenth button and quietly stood there waiting as it lifted him to his floor.

He still felt a bit dizzy and nauseous because of his hangover from last night, he had been like this for a couple of weeks now and it was still because of what happened at the hotel rooftop last June fifth. That was the last time he saw her, and it didn't go well. His heart ached as he recalled how she walked away from him saying that they shouldn't see each other anymore.

He tried reaching out to her since that night, calling her everyday or whenever he was drunk trying to fix everything between them, but she would just shrug him off and ignore his phone calls. He even drove to her house a week ago only to be dragged out by her security. Ji Hoon clutched tightly on his phone, suppressing the tears which was trying to pool out of his eyes, he shouldn’t be like this.

Be professional Ji Hoon. Be professional.

Ji Hoon knew what he did over the past few weeks was pathetic. But he couldn't just let her go, she meant the world to him and he was looking forward to spending the rest of his life with her. He wouldn't get tired of fighting for her. That was his main reason why he wanted to attend the commentary.

Hye Soo Sunbae would be there. He thought.

Ji Hoon kept on saying that to himself, that was the only motivation he had for almost three weeks, that the commentary would be a good chance to speak with her.

The elevator opened, he looked at the indicator saying they were already on the thirteenth floor, he walked towards Studio five and gently pushed the glass door of the studio; he was welcomed by some of the staffs and crews that he had worked with during the filming of Hyena. He bowed to them as a sign of respect mostly to those who he knew was older than him, then he saw Jang Tae Yoo the director of Hyena, standing next to a tall woman with short hair who's back was facing him.

Obviously, it was her. His sunbae. Kim Hye Soo. The director looked at his direction with a smile on his face. Ji Hoon could read his mouth saying, "Ju Ji Hoon is here." to her. She turned to him, she was wearing a simple white blouse paired with a tattered pair of jeans and a white coat draping over her shoulder, it was simple yet stunning. Well, Hye Soo has always been stunning even in those simple clothes, the corner of her lips curved into a little smile as if nothing happened between them.

Damn, she really is a good actress... He said at the back of his mind. Ji Hoon waved his hand to them, he walked towards them bowing to his leading lady and the director. He felt awkward, not knowing how he should act around her.

"We're glad that you're here already. Maybe we could start in an hour?" Asked Jang Tae Yoo looking up to Ji Hoon. Both leads nodded to him. "Good, we'll go get the lights fixed. Have some snacks first." He said patting Ji Hoon's arm before he left them alone.

Silence surrounded them. He sighed before removing his mask, folding it and sliding it into the back-pocket of his jeans.

I miss you.

I need you.

I love you.

There was a lot of thing that he wanted to ask, and he wanted to say to her but "Hey..." Was all that came out of his mouth.

"Hi." She responded, still with that minimal smile on her lips. She handed him a cookie in pink packaging, which he took instantly like a kid who was given a candy.

She stared at him intently, examining his face. His lips were pale and dry. "Take your sunglasses off, it's a bit disrespectful to greet the director with those on." She said using the director as an excuse to see his face better.

Ji Hoon, without any second thought, took off his sunglasses revealing the dark circles under his unique mismatched eyes, he looked exhausted as if he hadn't slept for weeks. Hye Soo sighed rolling her eyes, she knew it.

"Meet me in the restroom at the end of the hallway going to Studio six and don't forget to put back those sunglasses on." She said before making her way out of Studio five.

• • •

He opened the door of the all-gender restroom then he saw her leaning with her hips on the tiled sink waiting for him. He locked the door before walking towards her, he wasn't sure what she wanted from him but here he was, obviously he couldn't resist her. She stood up properly when she saw him walking towards her, motioning him to switch places with her. Now he was the one who’s leaning on the sink.

"What do you want?" he asked as serious as he could.

"Close your eyes." She stated, ignoring his question. Hye Soo thought he wouldn't do as she said but he did, but as the usual he couldn't keep his mouth shut. He kept on blabbering about how she said the other week that they shouldn't see each other anymore but here they were, in the public restroom, alone. That he called her every day, but she didn't answer any of them and how her security dragged him out of her village. He did all that as she got the wet wipes from her bag, she leaned closer to him and gently cleaned his face, removing the unwanted dirt from his flawless face.

She could spend her whole day just staring at him, memorizing every inch of his face taking note of the small details like the mole on his left cheek that you could barely see if you aren't this close to him and the pointed nose that she compared with the Himalayas, which he found funny.

Hye Soo pulled the primer and the concealer from her make-up pouch. Lucky enough, she still has the concealer that he left on her bathroom the last time he spent the night there which matched his skin tone. She applied a bit primer on his skin and some concealer underneath his eyes. She took her time as she did his make-up, they still have an hour and she wanted this to last, she wouldn't tell anyone, but she missed this dork, she missed him.

"Will you please shut your mouth for a moment Hoon-ssi?" She asked, applying a thin layer of powder on his skin.

"My eyes are closed already, and now you also want me to close my mouth. I don't even understand why you're doing this. You aren't even answering any of my question?!"

"Keep your tone down, will you?" She asked before putting the final touch, a lipstick. From his cheek, her eyes travelled down to his thin lips, it was dry, but she still found them kissable. She gulped.

Don't do it. Don't. Her conscience kept on telling her, but she did it anyway, she kissed him. What she did left him silent, her lips moving against his. It took him a minute or two before he returned her kisses. His hand on her hips pulling her closer to him. The kiss was soft and slow.

“Does that answer all your questions?” She whispered against his mouth before pulling away to catch a breath. "I did that to push you away. Because I wanted to protect you." She placed a hand on his chest. "Let's talk about this later, okay? For now, let's get you ready for the commentary."

He only nodded letting her finish his make-up. After him she fixed herself next, wiping down the smudged lipstick on the corner of her mouth before putting another layer of the same lipstick she used for Ji Hoon's lips.

• • •

After the commentary they drove straight to the Director's house to celebrate the success of Hyena. The whole Team H was there, together with the supporting characters of Hyena, Gyeong Hwa even prepared a cake with the candles saying 'Hyena'. It was fun to be with them again and have a nice dinner while catching up. The celebration ended around ten in the evening, and everyone had gone on their separate ways, but it was different for Ji Hoon and Hye Soo, they still needed to talk.

Ji Hoon parked his car a few blocks away from her house the way he did before. She looked at him and she knew he felt anxious about how their conversation would end up, she could see it on his movements that's why she held his right hand and intertwined it with hers.

"Hey, we'll see each other again, okay?"

"Are you sure---"

"I'm not." She looked straight into his eyes "I'm not sure about what I'm doing and what will be the consequences, but there's one thing that I'm sure of..." She paused, gripping on his hand tighter before saying "And that’s you. I'm sure about you, I'm sure that I want to be with you." She smiled reassuring him that she wouldn't let him go, not anymore.

- END -

Bonus Content!!

On December twenty-fifth Kim Hye Soo posted photo on Instagram with a silhouette of a man, with a very intriguing caption. Some fans guessed it was Ju Ji Hoon. Then the next day both their agencies confirmed that they were dating.

Note: This photo collage is edited, and none of these are true. Thank you for reading!!

#hyena #hyena sbs #jung geum ja #yoon hee jae #hyena fanfic #kim hye soo fanfic #ju ji hoon fanfic

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yoon-kooks · 4 years

Text

Witch Hazel- Pt.6

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: FanficWriter!Jungkook, Idol!Reader, College!AU, Angst, Fluff

Summary: There are two students in your art class with a secret: you and the quiet Jeon Jungkook. You’re a problematic idol singer, infamous for your ice cold reputation and perpetual resting bitch face; he’s the artist and author behind the viral comic series based on a certain ice queen idol. After a blowup of destructive rumors, lost motivation and inevitable solitude, you stumble upon Jungkook’s comic and find a new and unexpected light.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: none

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // ?

A/N: i’ve had mixed feelings about the tumblr fic community as of late :/ but heres something to read🥺

Holding the boy’s pinky in your own, you stare once more at his drawing of you with your guitar and flower crown—a superhero to those whom you shared your music with.

No. Your music hasn’t saved anyone. You’ve never been a hero to anyone. If anything, you’re the one who needs to be saved. You’d always thought you could grow strong enough to save yourself if you just closed yourself off from the world and did everything on your own. But in the end, that only seemed to hurt you more.

You should’ve known. It’s okay to ask for help, to reach out, to let him in.

“A few years ago, I had a thought. It wasn’t a very smart thought, but I decided I wanted to share part of myself with the world. I thought about the different ways I could go about that, but the way that made the most sense for me was music,” you say, finally letting go of Jungkook’s pinky and making yourself awfully comfortable on a bed that doesn’t belong to you. “So I auditioned for Polar Entertainment. Not to be an idol, but to be a songwriter.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, but he nods as if it’s not a shock to him, as if he saw it as “a Y/N thing to do.” At the same time, his gentle eyes wait for you to continue, curious to know what’ll happen next.

“Do you remember the song you heard me singing the other day in the music room?”

Jungkook cracks a smirk and starts singing your song word for word in a surprisingly in-tune whisper. Oh, he remembers it alright, and he’ll apparently never let you live it down. He doesn’t stop until you throw one of the balled-up blankets at his face.

“That was the first time I picked up my guitar and sang that song since being rejected at the audition.”

“I can imagine how scarring that would be. Rejection,” he shudders at the word, though you’re sure he knows little about the feeling with art skills as professional as his. “They really didn’t like you though?”

“They liked certain parts of me.” Your vocals, your beauty, your body. “But not the ones that mattered.” Your music, your creativity, your personality. You.

“That’s their loss,” Jungkook says in the midst of a yawn, practically inaudible. But you heard him.

“Maybe they had a point,” you say, looking up at the ceiling. “Because when I look back to that time, it was quite foolish of me to believe my music would reach anyone when it came from a place of desperation, not my heart. The song was a plea for help, not one that would save others.”

“What made you suddenly sing it again after all this time?”

You grab hold of the boy’s hand and form yet another pinky promise. “Promise you won’t laugh at me for my reason.”

“I can’t promise you that,” he says with the straightest face. He’s ready to burst out laughing again and you know it.

“Then I won’t tell you.” With a hmph, you bury yourself under the fluffiest blanket. You wonder how he would’ve reacted if you told him it was that dang jk.seagull and his fanfic that gave you the courage to sing again, to go back to your roots, to follow your love of creating music. It’d obviously sound ridiculous to admit it out loud, but the joy you feel from reading Witch Hazel is what reminds you of the very thing you want to provide others with—happiness.

And that’s perhaps all the encouragement you needed to start sharing your music again.

“I won’t tell you what it was exactly that made me do it, but I’ll tell you why,” you peek your head back out of the blankets to see the boy still waiting patiently for an answer. “I wanted to move on… from the failure I faced that day. That way, I can finally become that superhero you speak of.”

You place the drawing of your superhero self onto the nightstand so that it doesn’t get crinkled up on the bed. No, she’s not a superhero yet. But she will be someday.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“You better not tell anyone,” you remind him. “This isn’t something I share with other people. Ever.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he assures you, with not only his words but also his warmth.

“Good.” You smile whilst closing your eyes. You meant to tell him that he could confide in you too, but the warmth pulls you into a deep slumber before you could do so.

It’s been a minute since you’ve awoken in someone else’s bed, though this is the first time you aren’t all wrapped up in their embrace. Rather, half the boy’s body is hanging off the side of the bed for dear life while you’re right smack in the middle, all bundled up in one of the blankets.

If you wanted to, you could push him over the edge with the tiniest tap of your foot—that’s how close he is to falling. But as tempting as it would be to get even with the boy who teases you to no end, you opt to quietly check your phone without disturbing him.

To your surprise, you have two new notifications: a text from Seokjin earlier this morning and a late-night update from jk.seagull posted sometime after you had passed out. You’ve always been the type to take care of work obligations before indulging in guilty pleasures, so you open Seokjin’s text first.

6:04AM jinnie “so jimin’s manager reached out to me”

6:05AM jinnie “and you want to collab with jimin?”

7:12AM Y/N “oh yeah i asked him to have his manager contact you”

7:13AM Y/N “but i guess i forgot to tell you LOL”

It’s not that you forgot. You were just hesitant to tell your manager about it yourself. Because if possible, you’d like to minimize your own company’s involvement in this top-secret scheme of yours.

7:15AM jinnie “are you up to something?”

7:15AM Y/N “mayhaps”

7:16AM Y/N “but dont tell boss lady pls”

7:17AM jinnie “shes going to find out one way or another”

7:19AM Y/N “thats true 🤔 ”

7:20AM Y/N “well tbh knowing her, she’d probably approve of the collab anyway since it should clear up those dating rumors while (hopefully) appealing to jimin’s fanbase”

7:21AM Y/N “just dont tell her the logistics of the collab”

7:21AM jinnie “what are you scheming lmao”

7:22AM Y/N “youll see”

7:22AM jinnie “ 😒 dont get me or yourself in trouble Y/N”

7:23AM Y/N “i wont! i promise! 🥺 ”

7:24AM jinnie “okay fine”

7:25AM jinnie “ill arrange a meeting with jimin and his manager to discuss everything formally”

As you move on to the more exciting notification on your phone, you see that the sleeping Jungkook has slipped several inches closer to falling flat on his face. Maybe you’ll save him from his impending doom. Maybe you won’t. But that’ll have to wait until after you see what jk.seagull had to say on his blog.

“do you ever think back to that one time in math camp when a little girl screamed in your face that she hated math and wanted to become a musician instead? apparently she somehow confused ‘musician’ with ‘mathematician’ LMAO”

You aren’t sure what provoked the silly seagull guy to share such a random thought, but you do get a good laugh out of it. After all, you can totally relate as someone who went to math camp one summer despite knowing in your heart what you truly wanted to do-

Wait.

“Jungkook,” you say in a half-hushed, half-urgent tone, though calling his name wouldn’t be what actually wakes him from his slumber. “I think I know who the seagull guy is.”

Thud. You swear on your life you didn’t lay a finger on the boy when he fell, despite all the devilish thoughts you had about it earlier. He fell on his own. You’re innocent. Therefore, you have a right to laugh.

“Are you okay?” you snicker, peering down from the bed at the dazed boy. He might have been the biggest klutz for rolling off the bed and stumbling around to find his glasses, but holy shit. His wild bedhead and scattered blankets across the floor make it seem as though the two of you had a lot more than just an innocent heart-to-heart in his bed last night.

“I’m fine,” he stretches his arms and combs the bedhead out. Yes, he is fine. “But, uhh, what’s this about that seagull guy?”

“I think I know him.” You expect Jungkook to be as excited as you are, but he just seems kind of puzzled—perhaps from his lack of sleep.

“…and how did you come to that conclusion…?” he asks. Or maybe he doesn’t believe you.

“You didn’t see the post! Look at the post.” You join the boy down on the floor and make yourself at home there with your phone and some of the fallen blankets. He leans over your shoulder to read the infamous post you won’t shut up about.

“Math camp?” Jungkook continues to squint at the cryptic message before chuckling. “Also, did that girl seriously confuse musician with mathematician?”

“Stop laughing! That dumbass was me.” Now you wish you had kicked his ass off the bed.

He stops laughing, not because you told him to but because he’s mildly shook. “What?”

You take a deep breath in because you know you’re setting yourself up to be clowned for the rest of your fucking life. “When I was like ten, I told my parents that I wanted to be a mathematician, thinking that word meant musician. So they signed me up for camp that summer.”

“Did you ever stop to think that mathematician has the word math in it and not mu-”

You interrupt the boy’s unwelcomed commentary with an air-punch to his guts before continuing on as if nothing happened. “I was so excited until I got there. It was absolutely mortifying to learn that it was a math camp, not a music camp.”

“I like this story,” he nods with his arms guarding himself in anticipation of another air-jab as you square up.

“Still, I tried to make the best out of the situation since I was actually kind of good at math,” you say. “The camp director even told me I’d make a great math professor one day.”

“I can’t imagine you as a math professor.” He settles down with all the chuckling.

“I couldn’t either, so I ran off to an empty room where I thought I could escape without anyone finding me,” you soften your tone. “But somehow a crying, wandering boy found me.”

“Was it the seagull?”

“Maybe. All I remember was hearing music playing from somewhere outside. I sang along as a way to comfort and distract myself from the whole math situation, but it seemed to cheer up the boy as well.”

“Your voice does have that effect, you know.”

“He told me the same thing.” You can’t help but smile a little at the compliment. “But in that moment, it felt like my dream had a purpose beyond fueling my own desires. And I needed to share it with someone. Anyone.”

“So you shared it with the boy?”

You nod. “I told him my dream was to be a mathematician, but he knew what I meant.”

“Did he at least clown you first?”

“He did. He laughed right in my face, and at first I thought he was a jerk for making fun of my dream. But after he kindly taught me the difference between musician and mathematician, I announced my actual dream to him and him alone.”

“And how’d he respond?”

“He said it was cool beans.”

“He said cool beans?”

“Those were his exact words, yes.”

“And that was it?”

“That’s all I can remember.”

“So you don’t even remember his name or anything?”

“We never introduced ourselves,” you shake your head. “I don’t remember his face either because it was covered by a hood and long hair.”

“That’s too bad,” Jungkook sighs. “I bet it really was that seagull guy after all.”

“I have a feeling it was him, too.”

It would be nice and awfully romantic if you had somehow crossed paths long ago with the very seagull who continues to inspire your craft with his own. But even if that isn’t the case, you’re content with having that memory and entrusting it with another boy who has done nothing but lift you up.

You lean yourself gently against the Jungkook’s shoulder as you slip your phone back into your pocket, debating on your next course of action. The two of you should be getting ready for class, but that doesn’t sound very appealing. There are other things you’d much rather be doing, like maybe thanking the boy for lending his ear. But for some reason, it’s still difficult for you to say those two simple words of gratitude.

Perhaps it’s difficult because there’s a lot more you’d say than just “thanks man.”

“Can we just cut class and get coffee instead?” Yes, you’ll thank him for his service by treating him to coffee. Unless…? What if this is just your subtle way of asking the boy out on a date? What if he says no because you’ve already spent way too much time with him in the past 24 hours? What if he hates coffee? What if he-

“We should probably go to class to turn in our project, yeah?” Jungkook brings up a good point. But the thing is, you don’t really have your priorities straight at the moment and your mind has only two things consuming it: coffee and boy. “But we can get coffee after class.”

“Ooh, good, because there’s this one coffee shop I want you to try!” You chirp up despite your nonexistent dose of morning caffeine. “It’ll be my treat as thanks for… letting me hog your bed.”

“Oh right... that,” Jungkook hops to his feet and starts tidying up said bed. You help by picking up and folding all of the blankets. “I nearly froze and fell to my death because of that, you know.”

“I saw,” you bite your lip, trying to mask any naughty thoughts that come to mind. Because next time, if there is in fact a next time, you won’t let the boy freeze.

By the time art class ends, the weight of the dreaded group project has been lifted and your craving for coffee begins to settle in once more. And apparently, the hunger and excitement is radiating off you because someone has the audacity to make a comment about it.

“Why does your face look like that?” Taehyung teases, but you’re mildly offended.

“Because I’m getting coffee from my favorite café. That’s why,” you hiss but there’s still a hidden glow about you and your excitement. “Coffee is to me as girls are to you, Taehyung.”

“Ooh, speaking of girls, do any cute girls work there?” He strokes his wise man beard. “Maybe I’ll tag along.”

“I don’t fucking know.” And even if you did know, you wouldn’t say yes.

“How boring,” he yawns while nudging the boy next to him. “Hey Jungkook, wanna go on a double date with me? I met a pair of gamer girls, but I don’t know all the nerdy gaming stuff that you know. And think about it, this could be the first time you get laid since-”

“Actually, Jungkook’s getting coffee with me,” you interrupt. And if you had been brave enough to look up at the boy as you spoke, you would have seen the healthy pink radiance on his cheeks.

“Oh, so the two of you are dating all of a sudden?” Taehyung nods, as if he had hit the mark.

Neither you or Jungkook give an immediate answer, probably due to the unspoken yet very apparent shift in dynamics between the two of you as of late. Yes, you’ve developed certain feelings for the boy, but no, you aren’t technically “dating.” You just hope he’s on the same page as you.

“It’s just coffee,” you want to say, but it comes out of Jungkook’s mouth instead. And even though you would’ve said the same exact thing, it hits a little different hearing it from him.

At the same time, coffee is coffee and Jungkook is Jungkook. You need to remind yourself that your craving for coffee with the boy will be satisfied, regardless of whether it’s a date or not. After all, “dating” is not an option for an idol who should only be focusing on her music and fans.

“Which drink would you recommend?” Jungkook asks as you lead him in the direction of the café.

“If you like coffee, all of the drinks are good in my humble opinion,” you say, though you realize you should probably give the boy a few specific suggestions to make his decision a little easier. “You can get a standard mocha or latte if you want something simple. Or, their signature hazelnut coffee is really really good. Or if you want something iced, you should try the cold brew because it’s literally the most refreshing dose of caffeine ever. Oh! But if you’re into something more plant-based, I suggest the maple oat-”

“You’re not narrowing down my options if you recommend the entire menu, Y/N,” the boy chuckles at your coffee enthusiast behavior.

“Well, here’s my thought process: if we go at least once a week after class, you can eventually try every drink on the menu by the end of the school year. Not including all the different types of milk options though.”

“I don’t know if I should be impressed or terrified that you even bothered to do that calculation.” His eyes are bigger and brighter than the sun. “But that must mean you really like coffee then, huh?”

“Of course! Is that even a question?” The snobby coffee enthusiast jumped out real quick. But even beyond the coffee, you did the calculation to see how long your little coffee not-dates with the boy could last before you have to return to your idol obligations. “You like coffee too, right?”

“Not really,” he sighs. Your jaw drops. Who the does he think he is? “Are there any tea options? Or like a banana milk or something?”

“You can’t just walk into a coffee shop and not order coffee.” Is this guy for real? No, he’s just fucking with you. Probably. “I better start reevaluating who I hang out with,” you say with a sarcastic hmph.

“I’m kidding, kind of.” He doesn’t do a very good job of reassuring you of that. “I like… coffee.”

“That hesitant pause doesn’t sit well with me, Jeon.” You raise an eyebrow at the suspicious boy. It feels nice to tease him for once. “Why are you grabbing coffee with me if you don’t love it?”

“I just curious about this coffee place,” he nudges you, “since someone seems to really enjoy it.”

So it’s because of you…

“Good to know I’ve successfully peer pressured you into consuming caffeine,” you hum, playing it off as if his words weren’t absorbed right into your heart. It was never about coffee.

It’s about you and him.

The thought of that makes your heart scream a little, so you hide your flustered face behind your phone as the two of you approach the coffee shop. You have an unread text from your manager.

2:35PM jinnie “good news”

2:36PM jinnie “i set up a meeting with jimin and his manager in an hour”

You stop in your tracks. That’s not good news. Well actually, it is good for your top secret collab. But the timing of it all is anything but good.

“Are you searching up the menu online? Oh wait, you already have the entire menu memorized from A to Z.” He thinks he’s funny. Now is not the time, Jeon. His teasing smile doesn’t disappear until the distress is written all over your face.

How do you cancel a not-a-date date without a proper explanation? How can you do that to a boy who has only ever done you right? The thing is, you don’t have to hurt him.

You can cancel the meeting, you can bail out on the collab, you can disappear from the idol world altogether if you choose to do so. And if you didn’t want to go that far, you could instead tell the boy of your deepest and darkest secret, of your idol identity, and he would surely understand your reasons for having to leave so suddenly for work.

You could do any of those things, but you decide not to. You won’t allow yourself to make such a rash decision, even if it’s the right one. So you decide to keep the meeting, you decide to keep your idol self hidden in the shadows, and you decide to abandon the boy.

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #btsboulangerie #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook #bts #bangtan #witch hazel

253 notes · View notes

inliar · 3 years

Text

small shreds of love

word count: 1.9k

minkyun-centric

a collection of small moments where minkyun falls a little in love with the world.

inspired by this tumblr post that for the life of me i cannot find the link to, but here’s a link to an instagram post that screenshotted it.

a/n: 2/3 of posts i put on my ao3 that have not made it to my tumblr.

‘the best and worst part of mangwon-dong is the strays,’ minkyun decides as he walks around the area. best, because he gets to see, pet, and feed all of these animals every day after practice; worst, because he knows all of these animals are not getting proper care. strays are smart and wily and more than capable of fending for themselves, but minkyun firmly believes that just because they are able to do so does not mean they should have to.

he worries about them every day. worries when it’s cold, worries when it’s too hot, worries when it rains. minkyun is a very small person who can only do very small things, but he tries to do his part regardless. which means making rounds to feed as many strays as he can with the cat food container he has in his hand.

he knows most stray cats congregate around the alleys beside convenience stores (probably hoping for the crumbs of the people who eat around it) so he heads to the first convenience store he sees. sure enough, there’s a cat sitting by the corner. it’s pitifully thin, a fact that makes minkyun’s heart clench. it’s also been thoroughly ignored by the past two customers who have walked out of the store. “you’d think they would at least spare it a glance,” minkyun mutters, dryly.

he is maybe fifty meters away when he sees a well dressed woman kneel in front of the cat. she produces a treat out of seemingly thin air and offers it to the cat, who eagerly accepts. when the cat finishes it, she pulls another one out of her pocket. ‘oh’, minkyun realizes, stopping in his tracks, ‘her pockets are filled with cat treats.’

for just a second, he falls a little in love with the air of kindness that seems to viscerally surround her. she’s dressed like an office worker and looks to be his mother’s age, but she’s taking her time where she could be working or resting to feed the stray cats. he hasn’t met many adults who would do the same. maybe minkyun is a very small person who can only do very small things, but knowing that he is not the only small person in this very big world brings him all the comfort he could ever need.

minkyun is reminded, once again, that he works in an industry where viewers find pleasure in his misery. he hates, hates, hates haunted houses. always has, always will. but this is one of their first vlives after their debut, and he figures that running away sobbing will not make a great first impression. at least he isn’t alone, though, since he has jaeyoung to accompany him. brave, reliable, jaeyoung, who will most definitely have to stand in the front because there is no way minkyun is going to brave the unknown first.

jaeyoung, to his credit, is exceptionally patient with minkyun. he dutifully ignores minkyun’s protests of how he can’t go in there and talks over his very loud thoughts with miscellaneous thoughts of his own. “hold on, i have to film us both,” jaeyoung says to no one in particular. “should i hold the camera? you can hold the box.”

minkyun doesn’t grace him with an answer.

jaeyoung frets over turning on the lights to show their faces and angling the camera to show their faces before managing to adequately sort it all out. “alright, let’s go.” he says decisively.

“no, i’m not going.” minkyun says, in a last ditch attempt to convince himself that he has the courage to stay behind and disappoint his group, fans, and agency. he doesn’t, but self preservation is a nice thought.

“i get it, but there’s nothing we can do. let’s go. stay behind me.” jaeyoung says, not unkindly, and minkyun has no choice but to agree.

the further they go, the darker it gets, and minkyun is not a fan of how every offputting sound seems to be amplified by the eerie aura of the facility. all he has is a flashlight that the leaders hinted would be useless later on, and a camera for video evidence if anything goes wrong. he also doesn’t like how desperately his hands seem to grip at the back of jaeyoung’s shirt, but he can’t find it in himself to let go.

‘you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,’ he silently chants to himself as jaeyoung makes small talk with the camera while some mystical recorded voice explains their mission. he nervously looks behind him every few seconds, but that’s more of an anxiety thing and less of an actual threat. but his nonexistent composure gets shot to pieces the second something makes a funny noise.

minkyun is nothing if not wonderfully responsive so he screams. loudly. all his little dumb brain can process is a never ending stream of ‘panic panic panic’ and who is he to override his baser instincts?

it only gets worse from there. more things start to make funny noises and more indiscernible shapes he can barely see start to appear out of nowhere. his mind screams louder, ‘PANIC PANIC PANIC’ and it’s only fueled by all the unfamiliar stimulus. he is not safe, there’s too many things happening at once, his heart is pounding to some terrible off kilter rhythm and the air is thick and heavy and he’s drowning in the soupy fear that’s latching his jaw shut as he blindly edges forwards and -

thud.

for a long, horrible, moment, it’s too quiet. then -

he doesn’t quite process exactly what he sees, only that it’s unnatural and frightening and suddenly all he knows how to do is scream and scream and scream as the fear paralyzes him. if it wasn’t for jaeyoung faithfully tugging him along, he never would have made it through the stupid corridor.

the rest of the mission is all a hazy blur. he figures that his mind did him a favour and deleted the memories from his head right afterwards, and he’s not complaining. and if he’s not quite right for the rest if the day, that’s nobody’s business.

he watches the reuploaded live on the very next day. he hates himself a little for how weak and cowardly he seems compared to all the other members, but all of the comments seem to call him the funniest idol they’ve ever felt sorry for while watching. minkyun wonders, again, if he should be proud of providing entertainment or resentful for what he had to go through to provide it.

his bitter thoughts are cut short once the biggest scare occurs. video minkyun is screaming like some sort of unholy banshee while video jaeyoung is screaming like a normal person, but video jaeyoung braves on. “it’s okay, i’m here, hold on,” video jaeyoung mutters, over and over again. it’s a soothing mantra and minkyun can almost see his recorded self calming down a little, settling into something outside of his raw, unadulterated panic. it doesn’t last for long, because video minkyun seems to always find another thing to cry about, but video jaeyoung is steadfast in his patience and reassurances as he keeps the two of them going.

real minkyun falls a little in love with the overwhelming sense of reassurance and comfort that video jaeyoung exuded. he had never fully recognized that side of jaeyoung before. the feeling passes, but minkyun thinks he’ll notice that part of him a lot more from now on.

minkyun is not a stranger to busking. he was in a short program about busking with the rest of his group, and he’d seen people busking on the sides of streets before. he’d even been brave enough to sing a short tune on a street, but that was before he was an idol and before anyone knew his face. not that many people know his face now, but he has to act as though everyone does anyway. he’s seen what the media does to provide entertainment to the masses, and, despite doubting that busking could do him any real harm, doesn’t want to take the chance.

but that doesn’t stop him from pausing near any busker he comes across, listening or watching whatever the performer has to offer. it takes a certain caliber of courage to put yourself out there in front of an audience who didn’t ask to see you, and minkyun will openly admire and respect that whenever he can.

today is a good day. it’s as quiet and peaceful as the streets in korea can get, and he’s enjoying the cool autumn breeze as he walks towards the company building, cat food in tow. he was running low on food for the strays, and he happened to wake up earlier than he needed to for his afternoon vocal lesson, anyway. by some rare tendril of luck, minkyun can afford to enjoy and prolong his walk for another hour or so.

he’s halfway to the company, approaching an intersection, when he sees a boy in a high school uniform fiddling with strings on his guitar. the crotchety old man inside of minkyun protests - this kid should be in school, it’s class time, he’s not even trying to hide it - before it deflates and dies down. minkyun has so many friends who delayed or skipped high school altogether to become idols. even the ones that did “attend” missed a ridiculous amount of days. he should be the last person to complain.

minkyun almost misses it when the boy begins to sing, caught up in his conflicting thoughts. but once he hears it, he halts altogether.

it’s been a while since he’s heard someone sing so … honestly.

minkyun has spent a lot of his life learning the art of composure. he’s been taught time and time again how to correct his breathing, or how to widen his range, or how to emphasize the right notes at the right times to convey the right emotions. once he gathered some semblance of the basics, he even began to notice it in singers he hears on tv. this one turned her sustained high note into a vibrato by relaxing her throat. that one decrescendoed at the end of his phrase to give more finality to the note. even with professional singers who were supposed to be masters at conveying profound emotions, all minkyun heard was an amalgamation of techniques.

but this boy. he has no technique whatever.

without intending to, minkyun begins mentally critiquing his choices. he should have held that last note for at least half a beat longer. he should have emphasized that syllable. he should have -

‘no’, minkyun thinks, and this thought is louder and more final than the rest. he shouldn’t have done any of that. he shouldn’t have to do any of that. this boy’s voice, his clumsy guitar, and the honest and genuine emotion it conveys, is perfect the way it is. rather, it’s perfect because it is. it’s refreshing to listen so mindlessly and yet so carefully to a song, for once.

minkyun falls a little in love with the way the boy sings, but more so with the music he provides. it’s been a while since he’s felt this way about a song. it’s been a while since he’s remembered why he wanted to become an idol in the first place.

he dumps all of his change in the boy’s guitar case and walks away.

#onf #on/off #mk #minkyun #park minkyun #onf fanfic #minkyun fanfic #mk fanfic #wyatt is mentioned #except i use his real name #shim jaeyoung is mentioned #onf mk #writing #drabble

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vore-scientist · 4 years

Text

Bookish (safe soft willing platonic GT M/f vore)

Ok a little explanation is needed for this: IT'S NOT PART OF THE NORMAL MYSTIC WOODS.

IT'S AN AU+ CROSSOVER SILLINESS

Been talking with @vixen525 (dA, tumblr) and we’ve been talking about fun crossovers with our worlds/characters and this came out of that!

Contains: safe, soft, non-sexual, willing M/f GT vore No warnings.

To set you up: Yonah, for whatever reason it’s not important for this story, got transported to the dimension/world of TerraSyor (which belongs to @vixen525 ), but in the process suffered memory loss (bc I wanted to be cliche as fuck and it makes things so much fun!!!). Giants in TerraSyor are called Syors or Syorians which are two subspecies. Check their dA for more information. They are a LOT larger than Yonah. But anyways. That’s kinda the set up, other things you need to know are explained in the story.

---

“Can you stop pacing? It’s giving me a Syor sized headache.”

On a desk in the Office of the Giant King was a small desk! And on that desk was an even smaller one! A very odd sight. Even for a very odd King, but it had been like this for about a month now. Ever since a mysterious stranger appeared in the Ruby Isles and had been taken by King Connor to be the new personal guard to his Chief Royal Advisor of Politics. The Small desk belonged to this stranger. The smaller desk to the advisor. And she was getting a bit frustrated.

For the stranger, who’s name was Yonah HaEsh, was nervous for what she felt was a bit of a silly reason. He was pacing around his desk and stroking his dark goatee, running his hands through his long curly black hair. It was in theory, his “payday” but he refused to take any normal payment. He felt that the generosity and situation he found himself in as a new guard who had all his needs taken care of, and as someone who viewed himself in a temporary position until he found his way back to his home dimension, he had no need for money. But there were other needs. Well not needs, but wants.

And yet Yonah was still having second thoughts.

“It just feels wrong… paying someone to let me eat them!” he said for the hundredth time since being offered and him accepting said offer.

Yonah didn’t remember much, something about the trip through dimensions had rattled his head. But he knew a few things. He was half-giant. Though even that was in doubt as giants, or Syor/Syorians, were more than twice his size, much more. He was a puny 23.5ft and the taller Syor/ians were close to 100! He knew he was a wizard, which was in no doubt given the crazy outfit he had been wearing upon his violent arrival on the island. He now wore a custom royal guard uniform, but he kept on his wizard hat. He knew that his name was Yonah. He knew a few other details, like magical knowledge and… that humans tasted really good. That he liked to eat them.

He also knew that unlike Syor/ians, he didn’t have the same desire to eat humans, just that he liked to, so why shouldn’t he? He’d eaten Naomi, the aforementioned advisor, a few times, but she really belonged to the King. It felt oddly like she was cheating on her king when he ate her.

Due to the extreme fancy for humans that Syor/ians had, it turns out the castle had, on retainer, a number of humans paid to be safely eaten. Most did it for the quick coin, but a few stuck around. Apparently this was such a human. One who at least kind of enjoyed this job. That didn’t make Yonah feel any better about it. But he also hadn’t eaten that morning, in anticipation and out of courtesy to what would be his guest. So he was hungry.

“Can’t I just eat you? Or I can get a new robe!” he said.

“She’s already been paid, and some variety is good for you,” Naomi glanced up briefly and smiled at him, trying to reassure him. Her new guard was so strange. He was fiercely loyal from the start, wicked smart, and strong, but he had a strange temper and the most interesting things threw him off. Like getting to eat someone! The first time he ate her he’d fallen apart, sobbing like he’d lost a loved one. Wild, since It was perfectly safe, the king had the finest Terran Artificers craft protective amulets. She wore a very stunning one on her wrist, a large silver bracer engraved with depictions of her island, complete with a golden, magical gemstone as the sun.

A knock on the door to the office signalled the arrival of Yonah’s “payment”. Naomi snapped her fingers and the door’s protective wards momentarily lifted and a uniformed Syor came in, bowing as they did.

In their hand was a platform, upon which was a cushion, but from this distance it was hard to see the human. It still felt like being served up food, on a silver platter.

The Syor stopped at the desk and glared down at the much smaller giant. Like Yonah had stolen their treat. But yonah wasnt really paying attention to the guard trying to intimidate him. He was focused on the human.

A young woman lounged on the cushion, paying no heed to what was going on at all, and her bespectacled eyes were engrossed in a book. She had on little clothing but it was extremely fancy, and her hair was done up with golden bands. Those reeked of magic and Yonah knew those composed her protective amulet. She also had a small bowl of candied nuts and fresh berries that must be balanced with magic next to her. No, the bowl was set atop a pile of books and a few others were tucked around her.

She looked up and down at Yonah, her eyes getting wide but not in horror, but in a bit of afronted shock. After taking another candy she spoke to Naomi.

“I’m getting that first edition signed copy of The Chronicles of Percival The DragonMancer, right? Otherwise I’d rather be eaten by drooly over here” she indicated the Syor that swallowed guiltily.

Yonah couldn’t really blame her. Being eaten by a Syor or Syorian had to be much different than by him. He was so much smaller! It must be so much more confining, and being swallowed down… If it was a painful effort for him, it must be awful for the one he was eating. He imagined being swallowed by one of this world’s giants was still terrifying in it’s own way, but not so suffocating.

“Sure are!” Naomi didn’t even look up from her papers.

The woman motioned to be placed down on the desk and the Syor obliged. Then they gave her a quick sniff and even dared a lick with the tip of their tongue against her back and left without another word. She should be perfectly safe, this was the king’s office, and the only others in the room were a new but trusted guard and the king’s best friend. Ok best friend is an understatement for what Naomi truly was. She and the king were as close as two could be, they loved each other very much, though they were not romantically or sexually involved.

Stretching and putting her book down the woman stepped onto the desk to get a look at the one who was to eat her. Short and stocky, She had the build of someone who got plenty of exercise living amongst giants but also was given all the sweets she desired any time of the day. And the attitude of someone who thought nothing of being eaten, but was a little wary of the prospect for the first time in a while. She was sizing Yonah up and her calculations weren’t leading to kind results. And she was good at math. While she lived the life of Extremely luxury given to a spoiled pet, she was horrifyingly well read and used her pay for the finest tutors in the land. Some of them were Syor/ian who were more than happy to be paid with getting to eat her.

She also did not fail to notice the trepidations of the half-giant that knelt down next his desk, and waited for her to approach, which she did. But she did not climb up onto his lap, not her job to initiate, she was their snack. She literally had to do nothing and she got everything she wanted.

“Oh, I left my glasses on, I’ll be right back-” she turned but then stopped when Yonah spoke.

“Ehm, hi,” Yonah said, then decided he didn’t want to be so awkward. He wasn’t a teenager asking out a schoolyard crush. “My name is Yonah, and your name is?”

It occurred to her that not many of the Syor/ians that she was presented to asked her name. How many even knew it? She turned around to see the kind brown eyes behind glasses much thicker than her own.

“Danielle, Dani,” she said.

“So, ehm, do you like books?” he asked.

Oh, a talker. Some liked to have conversations though most just shoved her down their gullets. It was at least a nice attempt to acknowledge her personhood. Not that she really minded, she was living her best life.

“You bet! I think I’ve read more than nerdy naomi,” she said, finding herself being a bit more chatty than she thought she’d be.

“Hey! All you do it read when you’re not in a giant’s gut! I got to read documents all day long, so sue me if I dont have the time or energy for every fictional book in the damn library!” Naomi was somehow able to concentrate on her work and still give a brilliant comeback.

“Anyways,” Yonah said, getting Dani’s attention, “I also like to read! And I think I might have some books you would like.”

“I’m already paid for today,” said Dani, she was interested but was sure there was some ulterior motive. The giants loved to flatter her with gifts, hoping for extra time, but she never gave it. She knew how delicious she was.

“I’m still unsure about eating you, but I wouldn’t want you to waste your time. Here,” he took off his head and Dani looked genuinely surprised and curious when he stuck his hand in and pulled out a selection of novels.

“I don’t know if you’ve been told, but I’m from another world entirely, and apparently my hat is full of books!” Yonah held out his hand with the books to Dani who lost all her professional aura and took them all, taking in their covers, which had art styles wholly unfamiliar to her

They were completely unfamiliar to her, in fact the titles were half nonsense.

‘Stars Without Number, The Tetremalin Time Bomb. A Captain Alfred and the Mystery of the Sigma Quadrant Adventure’ and ‘The Fantastic Romantic Escapades of The Fantabulous Darington and The One that Got Away’ and ‘MythAdventures: The Awakened Automaton, a Gaslamp Steamfantasy for All Ages’ and one that was not a book but bound with twine titled ‘The Ice Princess, The Official Scripts by the Silken Breath Order, episodes 1-10, with hand-written edits’

“I can have these!?” she couldn’t believe, books no one else had! Books from another world with brand new stories and possibly new genres. Her heart could barely contain itself in her chest.

Yonah looked at Naomi who gave him a knowing glance. He should really reel it in on the gifts. “You can have one, for now,” he said. A few memories trickled in. “I personally loved MythAdventures, it’s got a fantastic twist.”

Dani smiled, and returned the other books into his hand, but with a big smile she hugged the MythAdventures, she sniffed it deeply. It even smelled like far away.

Without another word she returned to her cushion, but instead of settling down she took her bowl of candies and returned to Yonah, clambering onto his knees, settling down. It was very adorable and Yonah couldn’t help but smile.

“Why dont I read it to you?” he asked, adjusting to sit criss cross, so she was a bit sprawled out on his skirt. Then without warning he took something from a pouch at his side and dabbed it on his tongue and said words in a language she didn’t know. Which was frustrating, she knew a lot of languages

Woah! A burst of grey smoke spread around her, sourced from the half-giant. Only he was not giant any longer. He was human sized. Or nearly, and she was still in his lap. She knew shrinking spells existed but this was not any she had read about. Also, up until now she was certain he had been humoring her about not eating her and just feeling sorry for her and so giving her extra books. But he definitely couldn’t eat her at this size. She also loved to be read to.

“Yes please!” she handed him back the book. He adjusted his glasses and got more comfortable, with Dani laying across his legs. Even shrunk, he was still a comfy spot, he was chubby, very soft and warm.

“Would you like a honey nut?” she held up the bowl, “they are almost as tasty as me!”

Yoanh laughed and took a few. They were indeed tasty. The honey stuck to his teeth and Dani giggled as he licked it from his fangs like a dog licking peanut butter from the roof of its mouth. Finally his mouth was candy free and he opened the book.

“Oh shoot, this is book 3, I’m so sorry,” he said, “I think I have the first two but,” he reached into his hat again and winced. Then he dismissed his reduction and pulled out two giant sized books. Giant sized for Yonah, so a bit oversized. Dani looked amused, as if she thought this was his plan all along.

“That’s alright! Why don’t you eat me and read to me, the Syorians have done that a few times, and it was nice.”

Eat her and read to her? Why did that stir a memory? Why was he sure he’d done that for someone else. Someone important to him. The thought was so tempting, even though he kinda planned to just let her continue to sit in his lap. Then His stomach grumbled a bit.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“It’s my job silly! And if you read to me it would be much less like a job!” she hopped off his lap and returned her new book, her bowl of candy, and her glasses to her cushion. This time when she returned it was to climb back onto him. “Alright! Ready to be eaten!”

If not for her eagerness Yonah might not have proceeded to pick her up and after giving her a playful sniff, shove her into his mouth.

While a Syor/ian could fit an entire human in their mouth, Yonah couldn’t. Not even close. Most of her body was dangling out. With her minimal amount of clothing yonah got a massive amount of flavor and she had been right. She was delicious. And Yonah did not want to torture her for so long so He worked her to the back of his mouth and tipped his head back to begin swallowing. Next time… next time he would spend more time tasting her.

Despite not having all his memories, Yonah knew he was proud to be half-giant, though as his throat stretched and the human’s form pressed against his windpipe as he forced her down into his esophagus, he kinda wished he was fully giant. It was painful, in kind of a good way, and he kept swallowing. Eventually her feet disappeared into his throat, and with that her hands entered his stomach, then the rest of her! She was super filling. And that was one reason he was glad to be half-giant, surely for whatever a full giant was, and he was certain his mother was one, eating a single human couldn’t be so satisfying. He slumped with a content sigh and rubbed his belly.

This just felt... right. He was full and so so so happy.

“Hey! Aren't you gonna read? If im gonna be so squished I'd like you to keep your word”

Yonah snapped back and also looked at Naomi. He was on duty! He was on guard! Yes this office was extremely secure but he couldn’t completely slack off. And a full belly seemed to lull him a bit. This alarmed him and most of his sleepiness went away.

Naomi had watched the entire thing, for she was curious as to how such a small giant could swallow a human, but he did. It looked uncomfortable for him but clearly enjoyable. And seeing his stomach become pleasantly full… very different from when Syor/ians ate folks. Except for how pleased Yonah was with himself, that was exactly like a Syor/ian.

“Yes yes, I… you taste delightful Dani!” he said, back to being a bit awkward with compliments.

He looked down at his middle and saw the slight signs of a human being trapped inside his gut. The small occasional tremors as she tried to find a comfortable position, and a few times little dents that corresponded to when he could feel her stretch out. He was just tickled peachy watching, feeling. Until he figured that was enough time and he reached for the book.

As he read he felt Dani relax, but not to the point where she was going to fall asleep. Oh no, she stayed wide awake as Yonah read to her. He did at some point get some water, as his throat got extremely dry, telling Dani what was about to happen so she wouldn’t freak out. She said the cool water felt refreshing! So that was nice.

There was a notable moment when he took a break to talk to Naomi. She needed a bit of a break too, her eyes were starting to get tired from looking at documents for so long. First she just summarized in words a few of the documents, good practice to tell Connor later. In the month since Yonah’s arrival she had started to go over things briefly with her guard before Connor, to organize things in her head a bit better. Even if Yonah didn’t understand their politics it was very helpful.

Plus she was super curious about Dani. Or rather, about Yonah having eaten Dani. Naomi knew how weird and different it was to be eaten by Yonah, and Yonah had been very descriptive about how it felt, that he could very acutely tell even minor movements. That he could place his hand on his stomach and feel whoever was inside! This was something Syor/ians could not do, simply because of their size.

“I don’t mind you touching, but Dani might,” he said, poking himself a bit, causing Dani to stir.

He had been poking and rubbing his stomach at fairly regular intervals while he read but Dani was still not used to such intrusions upon her space. Syor/ian stomachs were much more cavernous, no such effects at all. Naomi was entranced, and then a bit horrified upon a tremor, and the slightest of movements, especially since before seeing it, yonah just seemed like he’d eaten a good meal, not a person. You could not tell if a Syor/rian had eaten someone, not at all.

“Naomi’s gonna, em, examine me, and you might feel her pressing into my stomach, if that’s ok!” Yonah asked. Naomi was sitting on his thigh as Yonah sat crossed legged, but she stood up now.

“Hmmm, yeah that’s fine!” Dani said, shifting again. Hmmm. Maybe. She pressed a hand to what she knew was the “front” of the stomach.

Naomi gasped as she saw the movement and with only a little hesitation placed her hands at the spot and leaned in.

By the guards of the underworld That felt wrong! That had to be an elbow or a hand. It was obviously a person trapped underneath the layers of fat and flesh. And she could feel as Dani shifted even a little. The best way to describe it is like feeling floating ribs. It was unnerving so she stopped after only a short time.

“I’m, going to get a snack and get back to work.” she said.

“Not without my escort!” Yonah picked her up and climbed down the desk. They could easily call a servant but Yonah needed to stretch his legs. He couldn’t have a snack since Dani was his snack, but a walk to the kitchens was very much needed.

Once they got back Naomi dived into her paperwork again. Yonah sat back down at his desk and continued to read.

And when his time with her was up, he poked at Dani again, and she let out a long groan.

“But you’re not done!!!” she pounded against his stomach in frustration. “You’re so good at reading!!”

That made Yonah feel good! This little human had enjoyed her time being eaten. He almost started crying again, as wonderful as this had been it still made him sad? But in a good way.

Also she was very correct, they weren’t even halfway through the book. But really, it was time for a late lunch, and since Yonah had skipped breakfast, he shouldn’t skip another meal. Not very responsible for a guard to go hungry. And he wasn’t gonna eat with her sitting in there. No way. Even if Syor/ians did that, he felt like due to his size it would be incredibly unpleasant, and he was already so full he couldn't eat a proper meal without becoming overstuffed, and burying his occupant.

Guess he would just have to eat her again soon.

Once he spat her up and cleaned her off, she turned to Naomi.

“Can he eat me again? Like! tomorrow!?” She practically squealed at Naomi who looked at them both with her knowing gaze - like she had her suspicions this might happen, that she might have requested Dani be his treat for this specific reason.

“Perhaps,” she said, and smiled so deviously. And Yonah’s face turned a little red.

That might be a bit too soon! That felt like exploitation to Yonah, But he’d love to read to her again so they could progress in the story without her having to be in his gut. And with his lost memories, he knew he was getting to read his favorite books like they were new! Or at least, sort of new.

And it was something to do while Naomi did her mountains of paperwork.

[FIN] if you liked PLEASE REBLOG!

REBLOGS HELP SPREAD MY WORK! I also love knowing that people read my stories! My askbox and DMs are OPEN!!! let me know!!!

[Thanks for reading! please reblog! Or message me telling me what you think! I crave feedback! For more mystic woods go to vore-scientist.tumblr.com/tagged/mystic+woods+story or search ‘mystic woods story’]

#safe vore #soft vore #g/t vore #extreme cuddling #willing vore #vore writing #you're on avenue queue

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Signed, Sealed, Delivered, Chapter 2 (Crygi, Jan x Nicky) - Joley

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Crystal had spent two days trying to figure out how to explain this new situation to Gigi. She considered testing the waters by joking about it, then thought maybe she should just rip the Band-Aid off and tell her outright. But any train of thought drove her right into a wall. And Jan wasn’t much help either.

“Maybe you could text her,” Jan had mused offhandedly. She was trying to help as much as she could – her suggestion was made while she was sitting in front of her laptop researching what actually went into planning a wedding, method acting, if you will. They were committed to this lie now, it seemed like there was no choice but to go all in.

“Text her?!” Crystal’s eyes were wide, she couldn’t possibly be serious. “I can’t just be like, ‘Hey Geege, Jan told Nicky we’re getting married lol T-T-Y-L and hope for the best.”

“Well, obviously not that, no one says T-T-Y-L anymore.”

“Jan!”

Jan sighed, spinning her desk chair around to face her. “I’m sorry, but I already have a lot of ground to cover. Telling Gigi is your job.”

Crystal threw her head back and whined. “But I don’t wanna.”

“Would you rather I do it?”

She quickly put her hands up in surrender. “No, no, I got it,” she assured. “She’s still at the studio, I’ll just… go there and tell her when she’s finished. I’ll call you if I need backup.”

“Get it done, sis.” Jan hummed before turning back to the screen, mumbling under her breath about how unreasonably expensive wedding bouquets are. “They’re flowers. Why would you pay that much for fucking flowers?”

And Crystal had hoped the walk she took from there to the studio would help her build her nerve, but she was hit with a new wave of anxiety the moment Gigi saw her.

Gigi waved her over, not straying from her work station. “I’ll be about another fifteen minutes or so, but you can just hang out if you don’t mind waiting.”

“Oh, yeah, no that’s fine,” she assured, sitting at one of the empty stations. On a normal day, she would enjoy watching Gigi at work. There was something almost magical about watching someone create art they were passionate about that Crystal found absolutely entrancing. Plus, it was Gigi – she could watch her read the phone book.

“So, what’s up with you?” Gigi asked casually, holding up two different types of lace against white fabric.

Crystal wasn’t sure what she opened her mouth to say, but she ended up blurting out, “We need to pretend to be getting married when Nicky comes here to visit Jan.”

That stopped Gigi in her tracks. She set the lace down and turned to face her friend. “I’m sorry, what?”

Crystal took a deep breath, feeling almost relieved that she had ripped the bandage off, but still worried that she wouldn’t be able to explain herself in a way that would actually get the other girl on board with this charade. “So… here’s the thing. Jan obviously really wants to see Nicky in person, but they haven’t been able to commit to a plan. So I, being the super smart person I am, suggested she tell her there’s an event coming up that she should fly out for. And… long story short that event is our wedding and now we’re along for the ride.”

Gigi blinked, taking the time to digest the information she received. “What the fuck, Crystal?” She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Well, when’s the ‘wedding?’”

“In like, a month. Maybe two.”

With her lips still in a fine line, Gigi let out a strangled noise of frustration. “In a month or two,” she repeated, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. “You know what? Fuck it, let’s do what we have to do.”

Crystal felt a massive weight lift from her chest and she exhaled deeply. “Really?”

“I mean, I’m never gonna let you hear the end of it, but yeah. Sure. Why not?” She shrugged. Glancing over at her dress, she decided she’d done enough work for the day. “I guess we better reconvene with Jan then.”

As she pushed herself back to her feet, Crystal still felt a little lightheaded. Sure, she was thanking every possible deity that Gigi was on board with this half-baked scheme, but now she would have far fewer chances to suppress and ignore her feelings. “Yeah, she’ll definitely appreciate that.”

When they did return to the apartment, Jan was still on her laptop in her room, deeply immersed in her research. It took Crystal and Gigi getting right in front of her for her to even become aware of her presence. “Oh, hey guys,” she greeted, setting her laptop next to her on the bed before looking at Crystal. “Did you tell her?”

“Very subtle, Jan,” Crystal retorted flatly. “But yes, I told her.”

“When did you tell Nicky to come here?” Gigi asked.

Jan shrugged. “I didn’t give a specific date yet. So, you know, work that out amongst yourselves. Also, you guys should get registered at some stores. At least that way if someone stumbles upon it, you could get like… a toaster or something.”

“I do love toast,” Gigi mused. “But I wanna know just how far we’re taking this. Like, are Crystal and I gonna pretend to get married? Do we break up? Or are you gonna wait til after you get Nicky in bed with you and then tell her the truth?”

“I… haven’t actually gotten that far yet,” she admitted. “I don’t think we should stage a fake wedding, though. Because then you guys are just gonna have to keep up the act indefinitely or get a fake divorce. We’ll work it out as we keep going.”

Crystal leaned against Jan’s desk, finally coming to terms with the fact that the three of them were definitely not backing out of this, that there was no chance of just scrapping the plan and calling it a day. “So other than that, what do we need to do?”

Jan picked her laptop back up. “We need to make a couple of invitations, I figure we could just get one or two free samples, just to send one to Nicky and keep one for our own records. Crystal needs to rent or borrow a dress, and we should probably go through the motions of planning a wedding without like, going fifty thousand dollars in debt.”

“Rings!” Gigi suddenly exclaimed. “What are we gonna do about rings? That’s a pretty fucking important part of being engaged.”

Crystal and Jan looked at each other, both of them searching for an answer, but there was the slightest bit of amusement in their expressions when it became clear that Gigi was now taking this as seriously as they were. “I’m sure we could get some convincing fake ones online. It’s not like she’s a professional jewelry appraiser,” Jan suggested.

“I’m not wearing something that’ll turn my finger green,” Gigi warned with a grave deadpan. “I’ll see if my mom has anything we can borrow. She has a collection of vintage and like, random, unique jewelry. I’m sure she’ll let me temporarily poach something off of her.”

Jan arched her brow. “So you’re gonna rope her into this too? Or are you gonna give her some other excuse?”

That gave Gigi pause, and she realized she was either going to bring another person into the party or dig all of them into a deeper hole. “I should probably just tell her,” she decided, the other two girls nodding in agreement.

“I would really like to watch this conversation take place,” Crystal piped up.

“Well, why don’t you guys do that? I’ve got a call with Nicky in ten,” Jan chimed in, looking at her phone.

“Well, far be it for us to interrupt your sexy Skype session,” Gigi retorted with a soft laugh. “Come, Crystal,” she curled her finger, and the two of them left Jan to her own devices.

Jan waved them off before getting up to fix her hair and makeup in the mirror, then moved her laptop to her desk so she could look at the screen dead-on. When she saw Nicky calling, she beamed brightly as she answered it. “Well damn, what sort of runway are you dressed up for?”

Nicky laughed and looked down. Her hair was styled up in a bouffant and the normally straight locks were in gentle waves. Her makeup – which Jan knew she did herself – was immaculate beyond reproach. “Don’t jinx it, I had my friend take some headshots for my portfolio today. So, fingers crossed there are runways in the future.”

“It’s basically a given, I can just tell,” Jan grinned, her elbows propped on her desk and face in her hands. The look in her eyes was full to the brim with enamored adoration; even she was surprised that Nicky hadn’t picked up on her feelings. “And then I’ll get to say I knew you way back when.”

“Bitch please,” she scoffed. “If I ever get famous, you know I’m flying your ass out here first class. It wouldn’t be fun without my sweet Janice by my side.”

She blushed, her hands moving from her face to stroke her ponytail. Hearing Nicky call her ‘hers’ in any capacity had her heart ready to leap right out of her chest. It was times like that that made her wonder if it would’ve been that crazy for her to profess her feelings, if she was building all of this fear and anxiety over owning her feelings for nothing. It sometimes felt like a declaration of love was dancing on the tip of her tongue, threatening to slip past her lips.

But nothing was ever enough to get her over that hurdle. Her stubborn fear of rejection outweighed even common sense. So, instead, she kept it sweet and vague. “Well, you know I’ll always be there whether you like it or not.”

“I’m offended you think there’s a chance I wouldn’t.” Nicky scoffed playfully. “Anyway, what have you been up to today?”

“Oh, just… helping the girls with planning and stuff.” It was technically true, so she counted it as one less lie she was telling her. She found that the easiest thing to do was to just keep the focus off herself until she felt more confident in this charade. “It’s just boring details really. Have you been working on learning any songs lately?”

Nicky shook her head. “Actually, I was hoping to convince you to sing for me,” she cooed, batting her lashes in an over-exaggerated manner.

It was a look that Jan was an undeniable sucker for that look, and she was certain that Nicky had figured out that much. “I suppose I could do that. Any requests?”

Nicky tilted her head, taking a moment to think. “Can you do that one from Grease? The magic one?”

Jan giggled softly, knowing she meant ‘Those Magic Changes.’ The song had been buried in her repertoire for ages until she’d stumbled upon a clip of her performing it in her freshman year of college. She’d sent it to Nicky, just thinking it’d be a cute throwback of sorts, but her penpal absolutely loved it, and brought it up every time she could. She didn’t quite get it, but she was thrilled that there was something she could do that would make her so happy. “For you? Of course.”

Once Jan found the karaoke version of the song on her phone, she played it and sang along, serenading Nicky as she’d done a number of times. While it was night time in France, it was still late afternoon for her, so she wasn’t concerned about the volume. Though, even if it had been later, she probably would have risked it – it just wouldn’t be the same if she used her ‘neighbor friendly’ voice.

Nicky applauded cheerfully when Jan finished. Her eyes were bright and warm with the enthusiasm of a child who just heard their favorite bedtime story despite getting it every night. It simply never got old for her. “You’re going to have to sing me to sleep every night once we’re in the same time zone,” she mused.

“You know I will,” Jan smiled softly, her mind conjuring up the image of the two of them laying in bed together, cuddled up close after a long day. Nicky would hold her in her arms while she sang to her, then fall asleep in her embrace, knowing she would sleep soundly because she got to wake up in her arms. She already knew what she smelled like, thanks to her scented letters, and longed to be able to wake up to it lingering on her skin instead of soaked into paper, she just yearned for the day where none of her senses were deprived of the other girl.

“You’re so good to me,” she cooed.

“That’s right, now I’m going to remind you to take that makeup off.” She chuckled. “It’s like, a quarter to eleven where you are, I don’t want you falling asleep with all that on.”

Nicky snorted softly. “There it is.” She rolled her eyes fondly, then reached across her desk. “I came prepared for this,” she explained, holding up a pack of makeup wipes. And, just to assure her she was actually following through, she took a wipe out and began cleaning off her face.

Jan grinned triumphantly. “See? I knew I’d start to rub off on you sooner or later.” Of course, she was guilty of just as many bad habits, if not more. But that was beside the point as far as she was concerned. Either way, she watched until Nicky had finished cleaning off her face, and she almost found it unfair that someone could be even more flawless underneath the makeup.

“Okay, I’m going to get ready for bed before you lecture me about that too,” Nicky teased. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, bye!” She blew a kiss at the screen before they ended the call.

After the call ended, Jan closed her laptop and got up to look in the mirror. She stared at herself, silently questioning why she was like this, so hopelessly taken with someone that it clouded her judgement, that she let thoughts of her cloud both her waking thoughts and her dreams. It was as frustrating and painful as it was intoxicatingly addictive.

The only thing that pulled Jan from her train of thoughts was her phone ringing, and she nearly dropped it as she got it out from her pocket. “What’s up, Crystal? Please tell me this isn’t a crisis call.”

“No, no, everything’s fine,” Crystal quickly assured. “We’re at Gigi’s mom’s house and she invited us to stay for dinner. So I won’t be back for like… another couple hours, give or take.”

“Oh, okay, cool. I take it the ring issue was taken care of?”

Crystal beamed, admiring the ring on her finger as if Gigi had actually proposed to her with it. “Everything’s fine on that front, trust me. I have to send you a picture of this, you’re gonna die.”

Jan laughed lightly. “I’m sure I will. Go ahead, then enjoy your dinner. Tell Mama Goode I said hi.”

“Can do,” Crystal assured before hanging up, her eyes still trained on the ring. The ring itself was rose gold, the band carved with vine-like design. The diamond at the center was square-cut and surrounded by tiny, round diamonds. While just towing the line of being over-the-top, it had the sort of unique, quirky vibe that made it perfect for someone like her.

“It’s like it was made for you,” Gigi had told her when she picked it out. “It’s actually kind of spooky.” She had picked out a ring for herself as well, one that had more of an antique aesthetic that she appreciated. It was gold with diamonds embedded along the band, centering an ornately-bordered radiant-cut diamond. It wasn’t as flashy as Crystal’s, but she was drawn to the details in the ring.

When they put their left hands on the table next to each other, they noted that there weren’t any significant similarities between what they’d chosen, but both of their personalities seemed properly represented. “We should have a little hand-modeling shoot for this,” Gigi mused, figuring she could ask her mom for help with that as well. They had explained their circumstances right away, and much to their relief, Gigi’s mom had found their story to be very funny and agreed to help however they needed under the condition that she could retell the tale once everything was over with. Crystal was happy to agree to these conditions, while Gigi did so more reluctantly.

Crystal wouldn’t admit as much, but as she sat down for dinner with the Goodes, it felt all too right. Like she was just having a meal with her future wife and mother-in-law, the energy that flowed among the three of them was always so calm and natural, even-keeled and even quiet at times. It was a stark contrast from her own family dinners in both positive and negative ways. But when it came down to it, what stood out the most to her was that she felt so perfectly at home with them, she couldn’t help but wish this at least felt fake. It would be easier to bear when it was all over.

#rpdr fanfiction #jan sport #nicky doll #gigi goode #crystal methyd #crygi #jan x nicky #lesbian au #university au #college au #signed sealed delivered #joley #s12

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dahvangogh · 4 years

Text

and empty words are evil | Jason Todd

[ prologue | one | two | three ]

[ao3 link]

note: Another week, another new chapter. Unfortunately, I haven't gotten any comments yet (except one in tumblr) but I did get a few kudos and hits which made me incredibly happy. I hope I got the new characters' introduced in this chapter well... like I'm a bit scared that they sound OOC or not credible enough. What do you think? Leave a comment on AO3 or here, please!

Also, I apologize for any grammatical mistakes, I tried my best to correct it all but I might have missed some things (english is not my native language)

Take care, guys. xx

CHAPTER TWO

“Life is what happens to us while we are making other plans.”

― Allen Saunders

The art gallery this morning was emptier than a banker’s heart, which suits her best if she is being honest, with her current predicament and all. While she doesn't work at the art gallery per se, like showing the displayed artworks or buying imported ones, she does work at the back of the gallery in one of the many workshops. Hence, if the place is full or has a chatty crowd, the sound will still get to her and echo all over her workshop.

Thankfully, that isn't the case today.

Grace is sporting a hangover as big as the Empire State Building. Yesterday night, while checking pictures and maps of Black Mask’s warehouse surroundings, she had chugged down two expensive wine bottles as if they were water.

You reap what you sow, dumbass.

She didn’t even like wine, like at all.

Her boss Rose had gifted her the two bottles for her birthday very kindly and when yesterday night she had seen the bottles collect dust in her pantry, she had thought she either drunk them now or threw them to the nearest trash can.

A coughing, as if someone was throat cleaning, sounds from behind and startles her.

Grace stops her precise strokes with the cotton swab and throws it into a bowl with many others that have been used before. Then, as she turns around towards the workshop door, she lowers her face mask. Her boss, a beautiful mature woman sporting amazing pink hair up in a tight knot and matching it with multicolored eyeshadow, is standing at the threshold of the door, tapping away something on her phone.

“How is it going with the portrait?”

Her gaze is still on the phone.

“Great. Maximum two or three days outmost for me. Then Caesar can frame it again and we can return it to the owner.”

At that, her boss looks up at her and smiles as kindly as usual. Rose Whitehall was the type of boss many dreamed about having.

And Grace knew she was lucky to have her.

When she had come to Gotham City, the first day Grace had visited Gotham’s Art Palace and fallen completely in love. She had hunted down Rose Whiteman, resume in hand, and insisted for weeks to have her at least be an intern. Rose had taken her resume and scanned it from head to bottom, commenting on how lucky Grace had been to be doing her apprenticeship on Museum Island in Berlin. Then, she had agreed to take her as an intern for two months. If she was as good as it seemed from her resume, she would hire her.

And now here she is, working for Rose and getting paid every month doing what she loves most.

“The owner will be coming in fifteen minutes, Grace.” She says which instantly makes Grace gape at that, eyes wide in shock. Forget what I said, she is a fucking bitch… “Don’t worry! He just wants to see how the process of restoration is going.”

Thank God.

The raven-haired girl now raises one of her brows in question.

“It isn’t common, I know. But we needed to check some details for the Gotham Annual Gala Dinner he is hosting, the one where we will auction some artwork, and he asked if it was possible to see it.” Rose approaches her while explaining. Then, she stands beside her looking at the big white worktable where the painting is placed and being restored. “You see, this portrait is very important to him.”

Grace stares at the painted canvas too.

It is a huge family portrait, clearly of a wealthy family, and the members seem happy. The tall man has broad-shoulders, probably in his early thirties, and is wearing an expensive-looking suit with matching black tie. His combed dark hair contrasts quite a bit with his vibrant blue eyes. Besides the proud man stands a dashing woman, probably in her mid-twenties, with light brown hair up in a chignon and soft but plump pink lips. She is wearing a green strapless dress, those that you would only wear in formal events or at a Gala.

From the first moment Grace had seen the painting, the woman had taken her breath away, –despite how dirty and darkened the portrait is–. She still looked positively and extraordinarily beautiful. If Grace had ever seen her walking down the street, she would have immediately taken her small sketchpad out of her handbag and drawn her.

The painter clearly had done a remarkable job depicting them.

Though, as usual with any type of paints, the painting was forever condemned to be restored a few times and treated with preventive care until the owner decides to dispose of it.

Now, Grace follows with her eyesight the strong hand that the man has placed on a petite shoulder, and a smile immediately blooms on her face. It always happened these past days too. Whenever she looked at the third and last member of the painting she would inevitably smile.

A young boy.

He was probably six or seven years old when the portrait had been done. He looks like the spitting image of the older man, undoubtedly they were father and son, but has the same soft smile as the lovely woman.

“You have done a remarkable job, Grace.”

Her boss pats her on the shoulder, still looking at the couple depicted on the portrait.

“I never asked… do you know them? Personally, I mean… ”

Rose smiles sadly.

“My parents were friends with them, so I do remember meeting the family once or twice at dinner parties… sadly, the couple passed away due to very unfortunate circumstances.”

Grace now smiles saddened, trying not to imagine the sweet young boy crying in front of two stone gravels, utterly alone in the world.

A whistle-like sound, which Grace knows by now that it means a notification of Rose’s phone, echoes all over the workshop.

“And that must be him.”

Rose starts walking towards the door, the sound of her heels following her, but stops and then looks over her shoulder.

“Keep working on that! Now!”

And with a wink, she walks off towards the gallery section, disappearing from her sight.

“Aye, aye, captain!”

Grace pulls up her white face mask and rubs her gloved hands together, feeling a bit anxious about facing a client for the first time. She has never done so, an art restorer never meets her client unless she works at a museum –which means the museum is the owner, unless the piece was donated, that's another case altogether.

Though in this case... She did know that the restoration of this portrait was a special request to Rose, she said so, but now she understands why. The reason being that Rose knew the family sort of personally.

But she still never expected to meet the client.

She assesses that she mustn’t look that bad, thanking her morning-self for choosing an outfit that looks classy and professional on her.

Her hair is tied up with a ribbon in a high ponytail, very 60s with how her curls look, and her floral long skirt complements her white v-neck blouse. She had even gone as far as putting on some nude lipstick which looked great with her Bridget Bardot inspired eye look.

I hope my eye make up isn't ruined... Pandas don't look professional and efficient.

She sighs loudly.

Wait… Why in Hell am I worried about how I look? Pull yourself together!

She sighs again, which feels weird while wearing a face mask, and now picks up a new cotton swab, proceeding with socking it in a special liquid for cleaning. Before being interrupted, Grace was working on some details on the young boy’s suit and so now she goes back to working on that.

If everything goes according to her plan, she will finish today with the final touch-ups, and tomorrow she will varnish the whole thing.

Grace focuses on the section of the boy’s suit, who is placed at the bottom of the painting, and starts cleaning.

She has taken longer on this work because of how huge it was, plus she had two other more urgent works to do. Nevertheless, she feels confident that between today and tomorrow she can perfectly finish it.

Suddenly, the brunette sees a dark blurb move from the corner of her eye and so she stops her soft strokes to look beside her.

A child?

The young boy is attentively looking at her hand and analyzing its movements.

She raises an eyebrow in question.

The boy turns to look at her, his brows now furrowed and arms crossed, as if pissed that she has stopped doing her job.

They both stare at each other, no words spoken between them for a bit.

“You are surprisingly good for someone so young.” His child-like voice is a heavy contrast to how serious and formal his words are. “Though I assured father that I was more than capable of handling such an easy task.”

Grace blinks a few times, at first paying more attention to the pale scar at the tail of his right eyebrow that stands out against his tan skin, but then she registers what he has just said.

You little sh...

“Then your father was being smart, for such a delicate portrait deserves an experienced hand and....” She pulls her face mask down and smiles sweetly, all while looking down at him. “I highly doubt you would be up to that high standard.”

The boy, despite his sun-kissed skin, blushes notoriously. Yet, his brows are still furrowed, even more so now than before.

“I will have you know that… ”

He looks adorable, all angry while clenching his fists at his sides, and she can help but soften at the sight.

Grace quickly interrupts him.

“Though I’m sure that with proper study and practice, when you are older you might be able.”

He blinks a few times and then relaxes, though still sporting his adorable blush.

“Damian, don’t harass the lady while she is working.”

A deep and rich voice asks –probably to the boy, Damian is not her name– and both the kid and her turn their heads towards the threshold.

She holds a gasp.

Grace has just come across Bruce Wayne himself.

He is standing in the workshop threshold, all calm and poise. The man is surprisingly more handsome in real life than in the newspapers or tv. He is beautiful, yet I wouldn't paint him ever. Don't mistake her, he is handsome as hell. He looks extremely fit in his probably very expensive dark suit and as dashing as ever with his chiseled face, straight nose, and smiling soft lips. Yet something is amiss with him.

He doesn't look whole.

Too perfect.

“Father!”

She turns towards the young boy and sees it. The connection. They are identical, though Damian reaches her elbow, has a much darker complexion and his eyes are green instead of blue. Everything else is positively the same. As in the same well-kept haircut, long at the top and not too short at the sides –though the boy' is styled more child-friendly–, the same bone structure in the face and the same poise while standing.

Damian is a walking mini-Bruce.

The man walks towards them, still all calm and charm, and she can't help but search for any flaws. His blue eyes feel like they are analyzing her, which she quickly attributes to him being a worried father of finding alone his child with a total stranger, and so she tries to relax her and look non-threatening. After all, they were just talking.

“Bruce Wayne.” he introduces himself, offering his big hand. “Quite young for an art restorer, aren’t you?”

You just didn't...

She tries to smile and raises her hand, not shaking his but waving it.

“Grace Henderson, would shake your hand but I’m wearing protective gloves and they need to be as clean as possible,” she says nonchalantly, though she still wants to grunt out loud for his damn comment. “I’m 25 years old and was personally tasked to do this by Miss Whitehall, though I personally believe she knows what she is doing, you are more than free to go and request another restorer.”

She hears Damian laugh, but she holds Bruce's stare, not backing out.

He smiles charmingly, taking a step forward.

“I didn’t mean to… ”

Her smile enlarges.

“Yes, you did.” Grace waves her hand as if dismissing him. “I’m used to it, though. So no offense is taken.”

Liar... It stinks.

Bruce opens his mouth as if to reply with something, but then his eyes zoom on the portrait laying on the work table and he instantly closes it.

He stares at it, almost as if zooming out.

“Well... Now I can see why.” He smiles, not a charming one but a soft-looking one, his eyes shining a bit. “It looks just like the first time I saw it.”

Both Damian and her turn towards the portrait on the worktable.

She rubs her hands, a bit taken aback by the subtle compliment.

“It’s still not finished! I’m giving it the final touches now and tomorrow I will varnish it properly.”

She looks at him, expecting another smart comment, but he is still attentively looking at the canvas.

Oh my...

Grace holds the gasp in, realizing that the young boy in the portrait is none other than the man standing right beside her. Bruce Wayne, who had lost his parents tragically when he was a young boy, patron of the city and famous playboy. The sight of a young boy crying in front of two gray graves materializes in her mind again.

She gulps.

“Caesar who is a more experienced curator will frame it again and will also take care of the handling of the portrait until it is delivered safely to you.” She further explains, her voice shaking a bit. “It will be as good as new, I promise.”

The handsome man now turns to her and smiles kindly, placing a hand on her arm.

“Thank you for your hard work. Rose assured me that it was being handled by the best hands, but still… ” He moves his head to the side, presses his lips together for a moment and then smiles again. “I wanted to be sure.”

She nods reassuringly.

“I understand.”

Bruce takes his big hand off her arm and places his other atop Damian’s head.

“And again, I hope Damian wasn’t bothering you too much.”

The young boy huffs, crossing his arms and raising one of his eyebrows at his father’s words, either embarrassed or annoyed.

“Not at all.” She looks at both of them with a smirk on her lips. “He seemed to think the same as you.”

Bruce looks down at Damian, who raises his chin almost proudly while staring at the work table and the portrait.

“Though I believe that was just a misconception…” She lowers a bit her torso towards him and smiles truthfully at the young boy. “Right, Damian?”

Now the dark-haired boy turns to look at her, but just as suddenly as he does that, he blushes. Quickly, probably to hide it away, he turns his stare towards the workplace again while his hands move towards his back in a very regal pose.

Then he huffs.

Aw... Adorable.

Bruce looks at him, curiosity now shining in his blue eyes, and then laughs broadly. The man pats ruffles his son’s head.

“He is very much interested in the arts, Miss Henderson.”

Grace finally feels herself relax fully in their presence, her body completely viewing Bruce and Damian Wayne as nonthreatening.

He won't hurt me.

“I assumed as much.” She focuses on Damian, who is looking askance at her, and she smiles again. Grace sees a bit of her in him. “Well, if you ever want to talk about art... You will be more than welcome here.”

That seems to catch his attention. Damian now turns to look at her fully, curiosity shining in his green eyes, and raises his chin as if trying to seem taller.

“I might, though my schedule is usually very full.”

Bruce laughs again while Grace nods –trying very hard to hold a laugh in– at what Damian just said. He sounds like a tiny old man.

“Perfect. And with that settled… we will leave you to your work, miss Henderson.”

She nods again, turning towards Bruce.

“Pleasure to meet you both.”

He nods.

They both leisurely walk towards the exit of the workshop, but while Bruce doesn't look back, Damian looks over his shoulder at her.

Her smile is sweet, waving her hand to say goodbye.

“Bye, Damian.”

He answers with a humph, a pretty blush on his cheeks, and disappears from her sight together with his father.

– – –

The elevator of her apartment complex, one of the many skyscrapers in Gotham City, is probably slower than a snail. She leans back on the mirror, not wanting to see her reflection, and sighs loudly.

As if the elevator would notice her annoyance and decide to finally be quicker.

Her phone vibrates on her hand.

She unblocks it and laughs softly when she reads Harley’s message.

hey hey hey! tonight is the night, right?

I haven’t been this excited since x-mas.

Grace sends a reply as fast as lightning.

Chill, girl. I will be at your house around midnight or so.

A bubble with three periods appears, Harley writing an answer at the moment.

GREAT! I will make margaritas then, to celebrate, ya’ know?!

The dark-haired rolls her eyes, a smirk now plastered on her lips, and the doors of her elevator finally open on her floor. She sees the amazing views, even in the hallway, and her shoulders finally sink. Tonight Grace just wants to have a bubble bath and rewatch her favorite movie, Top Gun, while munching a few snacks.

She pouts while opening her apartment’s door.

But suddenly, when thinking about what she will actually do tonight, the butterflies appear and start flying like crazy in her stomach.

Grace’s mood changes.

She had really missed doing her thing and Harley’s offer was the perfect excuse to finally put on the suit and say goodbye to her boundaries.

Normal is overrated, girl.

The midnight-haired girl writes a quick reply while kicking her shoes off.

Can’t wait!

– – –

The night air is ice cold and furious, smacking on her cheeks nonstop and messing with the hair of her ponytail. Her domino mask is only protecting her eye area, so the other parts of her head are now being subjected to the icy harsh wind and she can’t do anything about it.

Perhaps I should invest in a full-face mask or a helmet…

Nevertheless, despite the cold, she had missed the feeling of her suit on her skin. It is a full-on one, completely black and its texture similar to shiny leather, with a thin Kevlar armor underneath it and a utility belt laying low around her hips. Her high heeled boots and pair of gloves are also the same material as her suit. Furthermore, to conceal her identity, not only does she wear her domino mask but she has also grown her hair to waist length, wearing it in a sleek high ponytail.

Her powers can do wonders.

Thank you, Sir meteorite. The powers you have given me will never cease to amaze me.

She sees a new white van coming, then parking in the big parking lot in front of the warehouse’s main door and four men get off from it.

Black Mask’s warehouse is at Miller Harbor, surrounded by many other storage facilities and storehouses, which makes it quite easy for her. The storage facility in front of the warehouse has four floors, the building a bit higher than other facilities around it, so she has the perfect view of the warehouse and surroundings.

She is sitting on the rooftop’ railing, childishly kicking her feet up and munching the leftovers of kebab, while observing a group of five Black Mask’s thugs unload the truck while two others guard the door.

Mr. Ahmed, I would marry you if I didn’t know you already had a wife; she can’t help but think about the sweet cook. Your kebabs are the reason why I still believe in humanity.

She finishes it and crumples the aluminum foil, making a ball out of it. Then throws it up in the air and waves her hand at it, making it disappear in thin air as if it had never even existed.

Where? It’s better if you don’t ask her.

“Time to play.”

She jumps off the railing and extends her arms, her body pose resembling a cross up in the air, and lets the restraint on her powers go. Grace knows that she won’t break her legs, also very sure that a soft green bluish glow surrounds her, and so she lands gracefully on the ground.

Her high-heeled black boots make its characteristic sound as she calmly walks towards the parking lot and the thugs.

All of these guys are big, as in they probably live in a gym by the day and work here by night type of big. They are all dressed in black, wearing bulletproof vests and military boots in said colors, some even wearing black beanies or gloves due to the cold of October.

However, both the four thugs keep unloading big boxes out of the truck’s onto the pavement and the pair at the main door don’t seem to even register her presence.

“Need a hand, boys?”

All of them look up towards her, two even pulling out handguns while the others pull out knives and where the heck did that guy put a baton off?

“Girl! Get the fuck out of here!”

“Where did she come from!?”

“Get lost or we will fuck you up!”

She laughs sweetly.

“Sorry, no can do.”

And she goes out to town.

Grace runs towards the one closest to her and jumps, her legs enclosing his thick neck, then pulls him towards the ground. She hears the loud sound his head makes when it hits the pavement, but without missing a bit she extends both her arms at her sides, palms up and glowing in her usual color. A wave of power flows through her hands and they fly across the parking lot.

Four down, two left.

“You!” One of the guys at the door says, running towards her with a shotgun in his hands.

She waves a hand, a motion of shooing away, and he collides against the main door.

One left.

Grace calmly walks towards the last one, who is shaking in fear or perhaps because of how cold it is, still guarding the main door despite his buddy being knocked out near it. His aura is shaking like jello. When she stands a few feet away from him, now trying not to laugh at the poor man trying to be brave, he directs the muzzle of his shotgun at her.

“Hello.”

“What… what are you!?”

The raven-haired merely smiles in answer and extends her left hand, the man floating at the speed of light towards her hand, like a magnet attracted to a metal piece.

Grace tightens her hold, now estrangling him while he still floats in the air.

“Where are the explosives?”

He croaks, opening his mouth like a fish a few times, emitting broken sounds.

The raven-haired scrunches her nose, then relaxes her hold on his neck just a bit, easing the flow of air to his lungs so he might talk more easily.

“Where is it?”

He opens and closes his mouth again and again, but no sound comes out from his thin and chapped lips.

“If I… If I tell you, he will kill me!” He cries out, his legs kicking the air uselessly, visibly shaking. “I can’t tell you! I can’t! He will kill me! He will kill my family!”

She grunts a bit, tightening her chokehold on his neck.

“Trust me… If you don’t tell me where it is right now, whatever I do to you will be ten times much worse than what he might do.” Her voice now raised an octave, pushing him through a burst of power to the hard metal doors. Next, she pushes him with each following word for emphasis.“So tell me. Now.”

His mouth keeps opening like a fish but still, no sound comes out of it.

“I see… ” she says, sighing dramatically.

Time to put on a good show.

She closes her eyes and tries to center her powers on only her vision, but her power is too unstable and takes much concentration than that. So she relaxes herself, takes a bit of time, and then the brightness of the glow that surrounds her whole body reaches sun-like-blaze levels. There. Next, while she bites her lips trying to focus much more, she visualizes what she wants to achieve. A few seconds pass and when she finally opens them, she has mastered the brightness and her eyes are now the only thing shinning.

As in shinning as bright as the sun.

But there it is, also that side of her powers that is too untameable or unstable to fully be mastered by her. Grace feels her hair float, almost like there is no gravity surrounding her, which she hadn't meant to do.

Nevertheless, it probably helps her look scary and powerful. So, she tights her choke on his neck.

“One last chance… ” her voice sounds modified, not human at all, which she hadn't meant to do either.

She sees him open his eyes –if it is even possible– much more open than before, sort of like a cartoon character would do. Grace now knows that she looks terrifying with her domino mask with glowing eyes, hair floating around, and a creepy voice.

“No! No! No!” he begs in a yell, still kicking his feet up, completely horrified. “Wait! Wait! Wait, please! I will tell… I will tell you!”

She relaxes a bit her hold.

“They are stored inside three wood boxes... and they have written fragile in red capital letters all over them.” he croaks, and Grace feels every word he says through the palm of her hand. “They are the only ones marked with those words, to differentiate them!”

She nods, registering the information.

“Thank you.”

And she smacks his head hard against the metallic door.

The raven-haired checks the auras of all the thugs scattered around her, to see if they are still unconscious or if there are more out there that she hasn't seen, but what she finds confuses her. There are seven more scattered inside and around the warehouse, but weirdly enough they feel like they are barely there.

Oh, oh. Not good.

This reminds her of the first time she killed someone. When she had her first run with the Serbian Mafia, one of the caporegimes had infuriated her so much that she had just killed him right then and there, on the spot. Despite instantly becoming a target for them. And the feeling… She had felt how the soldier’s aura slowly evaporated into nothingness. Similar to how the light of a bulb diminishes until it completely burns out.

Those auras sort of felt like that.

However, they could probably be saved if she called an ambulance or the police.

What do I do? Should I...?

She sighs, still debating about it, and while opening the door, searches for more auras. Trying to find either a perpetrator or another human being who would help them. However, there aren’t any on the warehouse or its premises.

Weird.

Grace scrunches her nose, overthinking for a few seconds until the thought of them working for Black Mask and probably having done bad things for him makes her decide to just leave their fate to luck.

Screw it.

The raven-haired girl lets her powers surround her, no longer focusing on her eyes, and starts walking inside confidently.

Whatever is inside, it should be scared of me.

The first thing she notices is how the lights are out, which she quickly remedies with a snap of her fingers, then how the whole warehouse is full of thousands of wooden boxes scattered around, though the pillars here and there obstruct her view a bit. The place reminds her of a hangar but without the airplanes and fighter planes.

She groans, cursing herself for not asking where exactly are the boxes placed, and so she starts walking around looking for something red.

No red.

A Subway's meal leftovers.

No red.

Is that a used condom? Ew. Also, no red.

No red.

A few minutes later, she ends up at the center of the warehouse. The three boxes are stacked up in pairs of two, so the odd one is pilled up with another one without a mark on it. She kneels in front of the regular box, now debating whether to take it with her too or to just do some heavy lifting and stack the odd one with the others, until she feels it.

So bright and warm.

Oh my…

Grace even gasps loudly.

An aura, five feet behind her, burning as bright and fiery as the blazing sun.

It could burn me alive if an aura was even tangible.

She had probably been too immersed in searching for the correct boxes that she hadn’t realized the moment the person had stepped in. Moreover, before going inside, she had checked if there was anyone else around and had come across no one on the premises. So, that person had probably entered when she was looking for her special cargo.

This is Black Mask's fault! Screw him for having his warehouse so disorganized! Didn't his mother ever teach him of keeping his things tidy?!

Grace tries to center herself, not wanting to appear scared or nervous. Then, rising up calmly from her kneeling position, she turns around and comments nonchalantly: “It is considered rude to stare at someone and not greet them.”

Red.

That’s what she first sees.

A man wearing a red helmet, no facial expression on it, with white slits in the form of eyes. He is standing five feet away from her, leaning nonchalantly against a pillar, his arms crossed against his ample chest and with his military tactical boots also crossed at the ankles.

Red?

She scans him while thinking of Gotham's vigilantes and criminals.

Red...

Red Robin? No, he isn't wearing that weird cape Lisa mentioned.

“Red Hood, I presume?”

He shrugs, all calm but fiery aura.

“In the flesh.”

His voice low and tinted with humor.

Red Hood looks like a brute, as in a big and quite muscular guy. He is wearing a brown leather jacket and underneath it, some sort of black-grey armored under-shirt with a red bat symbol Emblem in the middle of the pectoral area. His black-grey cargo pants are the same color as his undershirt, almost making it look like it's a whole bodysuit, plus also carrying two tactical holsters united in a utility black belt.

Damn, someone doesn’t skip leg day. Those are some big thighs.

His tighs are probably bigger than her head, though she tries not to stare too much.

She probably fails, but whatever.

“Thought you didn’t go around killing people anymore?” she tries to buy time, remembering what Lisa had told her about the vigilante.

She bobs her head to the left, assessing him.

Red Hood. Gun guy. Former Crime Lord, had painted Gotham City red until he had stopped killing and started using the same methods as Batman & Co. Still, too ruthless for my liking. You say his name and everyone shits their pants. A vigilante, but not one you want to meet, unlike Nightwing or Batgirl. From what I heard from one of the police guys at the clinic, he is good in a fight, quite at par with Batman.

He stands up from his position, and while he is looking calm and confident, she can clearly see the signs of him being ready for whatever she is about to do.

“Rough night. Bat can suck it.” his voice is low and clearly electronically modified. Then, he points at her with his black-gloved hand, like a child. “Now, time for you to introdu… ”

She holds her glowing left hand up, interrupting him midsentence.

Then, she runs towards him.

“And you talk about manners…” his annoying voice chastises her, which somehow irks her.

Grace knows she probably won't win against him like this, but he clearly has a big ego and his confidence can be used against him.

Men and their egos.

He effortlessly dodges her first punch, which she knew he would, and she throws another one towards his face. Red Hood merely captures her fist in his gloved hand, a tight hold that almost feels like he will break all her bones, and clucks humorously.

“You suck at fighting, so stick to magic.”

She wants to roll her eyes so badly.

They are pretty close, only a feet apart, and despite her high-heeled boots she still has to look up to see his masked face. It irks her even more, her height is something that has always bothered her.

“Oh… As you wish.”

She smiles prettily while shrugging her shoulders.

One of his feet steps back, his instinct probably screaming at him to pull back and so he tries to pull away, letting go of her fist, but it is already too late.

Got you.

Grace opens her fist up and he starts floating, a feet up in the air, his jacket opening a bit with how fast she elevated him. He has a green bluish glow around him, which is actually what is keeping him up, and she starts to smack the air.

His face turns left and right, clearly feeling her slaps, completely powerless to her ministrations.

“It’s fun, right?” she laughs, though she feels no joy or pleasure from what she is doing. “You should have shot me right when you saw me, Red.”

He grunts but gives no further reaction.

She stops slapping the air and his face stops moving, still motionless and floating in the air. She supposes he is looking at her, after all his red helmet is facing her.

“I heard so much about you.” She stares at those white slits, smiling sweetly at the man. “From what I heard, you painted Gotham City red for a few months. So many fear you… If only they saw you now. Completely powerless.”

The explosives, girl. Focus! she tries to focus on her “mission” and stops mocking him. Right, the explosives.

The raven-haired girl keeps her hand up, keeping him afloat, and turns to the side. She is still able to see him, but now can also clearly see the wooden boxes.

“Who are you?” he asks, humor no longer in his voice. He doesn’t seem scared, which sort of surprises her a bit. “What do you want with Black Mask? What are you doing in Gotham?”

“None of your business, Little Red Riding Hood.” she mocks him, scrunching her nose in annoyance. “Now shut it or I will gag you.”

She raises her other hand and with her open palm, draws an O near where the boxes are located, closing her eyes and furrowing her brows for further concentration. Grace pictures Harley’s house, not the inside of it, but the front door. Just the front door. She hears the wind howling and when she opens her eyes again, inside the perimeter of the O there is the view of Harley’s door.

Grace knows she has a few precious seconds before the portal closes –multitasking was never her forte– and so she quickly directs her palm’s towards the boxes, imagining them floating as if there was no gravity.

“His explosives?” Red Hood grumbles in a low whisper, probably a thought said out loud.

Suddenly, a surge of power in her characteristic color surrounds them and the boxes start floating as Red Hood currently is. Then, they start dancing through the air towards the portal until crossing it and gently settling in the doorstep.

Mission Accomplished.

She snaps her fingers and the portal closes, just as if she had just turned the TV off with a remote.

Now, let's get out of here.

Grace turns around and lowers her other hand. Red Hood slowly starts lowering towards the ground, still surrounded by her power and fully in her control.

The raven-haired girl purses her lips and then smiles, as if a great idea has just come to her.

“Now, would you please sit down like a good boy and let me leave unharmed?” she asks in a pleading mocking tone.

She can imagine him smirking under the helmet while huffing a laugh, despite being at her mercy, and she can feel danger oozing from him.

The man is clearly not scared of her.

And very confident in himself.

“No can do, sweetheart.” his raspy and modified voice almost shocks her.

She walks towards him with a pout on her lips, trying to appear confident when she actually isn’t feeling like that at all, and looks up at him. Grace hopes she looks sort of attractive, or at least cute enough to not make him kill her if she slips and lets him go.

“Pity.” she exaggerates her pout, totally mocking him. “I would have even invited you to a drink or something.”

Wait... why do I sound flirty?

He lowers his head a bit, which to say the least surprises her. He shouldn't be able to move at all, but he has just moved his head, and so she tries to not freak out in front of him. To keep calm and seem confident.

“Let me go.”

She laughs as if that comment is the funniest thing she has ever heard.

“As if I’m that stupid.” she pats his chest with her left hand, leaning into him. “You will turn me into a colander. So, no. Your guns stay where they are. Thank you.”

He lets out a laugh that rumbles through his chest, clearly amused. Grace can even feel it through her gloves and his armored under-shirt, and she tries not to laugh too.

“I could go slow… be gentle.”

She answers with a moan as if the mere idea excites her, and did he just take a small step forward?

He is starting to break through, shit. You should have mind-controlled him, idiot!

“As tempting as that sounds, I will have to pass on that… You see,” She pats his chest for emphasis one last time, nodding along to what she herself just said. Then, she shrugs her shoulders.“I’m an old-fashioned girl, so you would have to take me to dinner first. Perhaps even sweep me off my feet?”

The raven-haired girl turns around and when she is a few feet away, just where the wooden boxes were sitting before, she opens the portal again to Harley’s house. She crosses through it, her footsteps slow but surely, until she no longer is standing inside Black Mask's warehouse but in Harley's doorstep with the four boxes.

Grace proceeds to raise her left hand, as if throwing something over her shoulder, and she doesn't have to turn around to know that the walls close on the Red Hood.

Yet, she still turns around to see. She doesn't know why, but she views as the whole building crumbles in, no sight of Red Hood, who is probably dead or buried underneath all the rubble.

She doesn't feel good.

But she knew he wouldn't let her go, not before probably torturing her or giving her up to Batman or even to the police.

“Goodbye, Red.”

#jason todd fanfiction #Jason Todd x reader #jason todd x you #Jason Todd x oc #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #dc fanfiction #dc imagine #my writing #hope you all like it #aewae ff

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