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#reminder that the original quote was about him picking something up for his dad
12u3ie · 2 years
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“When god sends me to hell, I want him to hesitate.”
God better have hesitated. He’d better have.
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mitts2002 · 3 years
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JJK pottery dates
Hii I've already made a separate inumaki fic on this so he won't be included. I was originally meant to do this for one character but I've decided to do multiple cause I can😌 Also I've never done pottery so I'm just winging this!
Itadori Yuuji
Yuuji would assume that he's gonna be a natural at pottery despite being both your first time
But yuuji would definitely not care about the end result of it
As long as he has a good time with (Y/N) that's all that matters
He'll accidentally use too much strength when handling the clay. Instructor tells him he's too heavy handed
(Y/N) on the other hand is doing pretty well. Shes almost done shaping and is ready to add some decorations
This is when Yuuji realises he does care about the end result because his looks like a complete mess
To cheer him up (Y/N) engraves Yuujis name into her pot and gives it to him as a gift.
You also offer to take yuujis piece in return
(Y/N) uses yuujis clay thing as a place for small trinkets and earrings
Yuuji uses (Y/N)s pot to plant a cactus
The couple had decided to go on a cute little pottery date for their first date, so why was Yuuji pouting in the corner?
Well at first (Y/N) and Yuuji were having a great time together. Messing around and quoting stupid memes and movie references was just their thing so when it was actually their turn to make something Yuuji had no idea what he was doing.
(Y/N) despite messing around with him had actually paid attention to the instructor and was doing just fine which made matters even worse for Yuuji. He assumed this would be a piece of cake when in reality it wasn't.
"Yuuji stop sobbing in the corner babe, it doesn't even look that bad!" You clearly lied to him but you knew it was for his own good.
"NO ITS TRASH look at yours (Y/N) so nice and pretty no one would ever want mine! Now I'll never be the world's best pottery maker" Yuuji babbled on just being his overdramatic self.
"Well I'd love love yours! I could put my jewellery in it, I needed a new trinket box anyways" you quickly thought on the spot and sighed in relief when Yuujis head perked up
"Really?" Yuuji sniffled and grabbed onto your waist. "Yeah and ill carve your name into mine! Then give it to you as a gift. Equivalent exchange" you winked at Yuuji knowing its an offer he couldn't refuse.
"Okay deal" Yuuji sat back next to you working on your trinket box while your worked on carving his name into his plant pot.
Choso
Choso was trying to learn more about the 21st century
How did he do this? By binge watching old rom coms on netflix.
In the middle of one of the movies a pottery scene comes up and chosos eyes couldn't shine more bright.
He loved the idea. It was a great way to spend your time with your loved one.
Choso immediately rang (Y/N) and demanded she arrange a date, which she did
You and Choso couldn't find any classes near you but looking at Chosos pout and puppy dog eyes begging to find a way you had no choice.
(Y/N) did the next best thing and decided to buy a beginners home kit. Now you both sat in the living room with newspapers littering the table and large aprons on yourselves.
"Okay so let's read the instructions first" you picked up the small booklet and looked over to Chosos who couldn't contain his excitement.
His buns were a little messier than usual as he rushed them the moment the package arrived but he still looked cute nonetheless. "Let me set it up then I guess we can try make a bowl? That seems to be the easiest option" you suggested while flicking through the pages and setting things up.
"Can we make a plant pot? I wanna give yuuji a plant for his birthday" Choso proposed. "Aww that's actually a great idea yuuji would love it!" You exclaimed in return and motioned him to come closer as you were ready to begin.
Choso had sat you in between his legs and leaned his head on your shoulder. His hairs tickled you and butterflys fluttered in your stomach when Choso began to kiss your cheeks slowly inching down to you neck.
"Oi behave" you ordered trying to sound intimidating but just burst out in laughter instead. "Fine sorry sorry let's focus on the pot" Choso apologised giving one last kiss to your head.
The pot was forming nicely but was a bit wonkey due to the hand size difference between you both.
Neither of you could care though, the intimacy of his hands on yours, music playing in the background and laughter filling the room from your stupid stories and Chosos dad jokes he recently learnt was just what Choso wanted.
The plant pot had turned out to be very cute and Yuuji ended up loving it.
Kamo Noritoshi
Kamo noritoshi was brought up in a strict household
During his childhood he was expected to be talented in many areas
Archery, studying, drawing, poetry, crochet, painting and even pottery were part of the many skills kamo noritoshi had devloped
The moment (Y/N) had learnt that the vase and other ornaments in noritoshis room were hand crafted by him she wanted to learn too
Now Noritoshi is sitting here behind his girlfriend teaching her how to make a vase because she wouldn't stop pestering him
"Noriii STOP being so perfect!" (Y/N) had yelled at her confused boyfriend who was simply decorating his clay piece.
"You wanted to do pottery with me and now your doing it. What's the problem?" Norotoshi sighed and turned to look at your vase. If he could even call it that.
"If you were struggling you could've asked me for help" Noritoshi scolded while your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"Yeah well I wanted to do it myself" you whined and crossed your arms in defeat.
"FINE help me please it's way harder than it looks" you admitted as nori made his way over to you.
"Firstly you need to be more gentle, it's wet clay not a damn rock (Y/N)" he corrected you and put his hands upon yours.
"Your hands are cold" you whispered to him feeling his slightly calloused hands touch yours.
"Focus (Y/N)" he responded equally as quiet as you. The room fell into a comfortable silence as your and nori moulded your vase together.
When it was finally finished you kissed noritoshi on the cheek. His cheeks turned slightly red but he kept his composure.
"It's fine (Y/N) just don't break it okay" the black haired male reminded you since you were quite clumsy.
"I promise I won't! But next time you have to do this call me and I'll join"
After this date, pottery became a common occurance for (Y/N) and Noritoshi. (Y/N) kept her promise and still fills her vase with flowers nori buys her to this day.
Okkotsu Yuta
Yuta okkotsu was a nervous wreck
You were given free tickets to a pottery event and asked Yuuta if he would accompany you
Of course he agreed without realising what he was actually getting himself into
The couple were currently at the event extremely close to make a bowl together
Yuuta could feel your hair on his skin and wanted to lean closer to bask in your presence
The moment he finally mustered the courage to lean onto your shoulder a little interruption had scared you both
'Okay Yuuta you got this. My wonderful (Y/N) is focused on the bowl so just slowly lean onto her' Yuuta thought to himself before looking towards his hands that were on yours. 'I GOT THIS' Yuuta had slowly inched closer while you continuously spoke so close to achieving his goal.
"IS THAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND!' a young girl with pigtails and pink bobbles yelled at Yuuta. The pair had jumped and practically ruined their bowl but yuuta couldn't care less. His chance was ruined.
"Yuuta she asked you a question" you reminded him and causing the black haired male to turn back to the small girl
"Ah yes this is my girlfriend" He responded with a small blush. "Well she's very pretty!" The cute child exclaimed.
"Thank you sweetie you're very cute too" (Y/N) cooed at the small girl and patted yutas arm telling him to compliment her aswell. Before yuuta could speak the young girl had beat him to it.
"OH YOU MUST BE ON A DATE! Sorry I ruined your bowl" she apologised looking down in guilt for interrupting you both.
"No no it's okay don't worry about it" Yuuta reasured and patted her head giving her a soft smile. (Y/N) blushed at the sight of her loving boyfriend with a child and gave the girl a quick high five before she scurried off to her parents.
"Wasn't she the sweetest little girl yuuta?" You asked and got a small 'hm' in response. "Our bowls a bit messy but I think we can salvage it right? Come closer so we can fix it properly" you grabbed his arms pulling him closer to you. Maybe that little interruption helped him after all.
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cheri-translates · 3 years
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Headcanon - woes of your children
This work, 小朋友的碎碎念, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸
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[ VICTOR’S SON ]
Sometimes, I suspect that I’m not my dad’s child.
It’s common knowledge (well, maybe not), that my dad is the manager and chef of Souvenir. Anyone who has eaten the pudding my dad makes will agree that his skills are superb, and I think so too. My friends at kindergarten are envious that I have such a gentle mum and a dad who’s incredible at making desserts. 
But I think they have misunderstood the meaning of "gentle” and what my dad is really like.
I shan’t start with how my mum is always bursting with energy. Let’s start with my dad. He makes desserts frequently, and the house is often filled with the fragrance of pudding, souffles, cookies and little cakes. 
But... they’re all for my mum. 
Indeed, I’m unworthy of dad’s desserts. 
“It’s not good for your teeth if you eat too many desserts,” says my mum while she eats one of dad’s desserts.
“As a man, you have to work hard to get what you want,” says my dad when I ask him for pudding. I admit that what he says isn’t wrong, but I just had my fourth birthday... 🙃
Normally, dad is very stern with me. He doesn’t let me sleep beside mum, doesn’t let me cry, doesn’t let me lose my temper at mum... It’s as though mum is dad’s child instead.
Actually, I think my mum is the true king of the house. She can get dad’s pudding, can openly challenge him, can act coquettishly with him, and has much more pocket money than I do...
Forget it, the more I think about it, the more I feel like crying. Looks like I should squat next to the dustbin and see if anyone would pick me up. I might be am definitely the most miserable kid in the world. 
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[ GAVIN’S SON ]
Dad says that boys will naturally want to protect the girl they like.
My dad is the Commander of Loveland City’s Special Task Force. He’s normally the type who’s cold-hearted and merciless, not even letting plants off. Sounds cool, right? But what his subordinates don't know is that at home, my dad is a henpecked husband.
Even the slightest frown from my mum causes him to worry for the entire day. Sometimes, when mum discovers that dad is injured, she’d cry until her eyes are red. Dad would repeatedly promise that he wouldn’t conceal any injuries from her the next time, and would kiss and hug her, oblivious that there’s a child at the scene.
Oh, I forgot to mention something. In my dad’s eyes, I have no standing at all.
The most precious treasure is always my mum. I don’t disagree though. After all, mum loves me very much, and I love her very much too. It’s only right that I protect her.
“When you have someone you want to protect, you’ll think of ways to make yourself strong,” dad once said to me. “First, you need to learn to sleep on your own, and not stick to mum.”
Although it does make logical sense, I suspect my dad has his own selfish reasons. But I have no guts to say it aloud.
Dad and I have agreed that next time, we’ll protect mum together. I said that when I’m all grown up, I’ll ensure mum can walk on the streets without worrying about getting disturbed by anyone or anything, just like what dad used to do.
After hearing this, dad asked where I heard it from - of course it was Uncle Minor. I watched dad make a call, arranging to meet up with Uncle Minor. After telling mum that he’d be gone for a while but will be back for dinner, he left. 
So what exactly are dad and Uncle Minor planning to do?
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[ LUCIEN’S SON ]
In my dad’s eyes, I might have always been an accident.
According to what I heard from the professor uncles in Loveland University, when my mum did a check when having me, the doctor said that I might be a girl. Back then, my dad had grinned so widely. 
When he saw that I was a boy, his face was just as dark as how happy he was back then. I heard that before I was born, everything prepared was pink. Sigh, I didn’t realise that that was just the beginning of my route to more accidents.
Normally, dad looks refined and cultivated, and sometimes dotes on mum a lot. Why do I say “sometimes”? Because I’ve seen dad bullying mum, pressing her down on the bed. Mum even cried. 
Then again, dad is a 180m man, and is so heavy. If he presses down on me too, I’d definitely cry too. Furthermore, mum is a girl.
Dad seems to turn a blind eye to my existence. For example, when we eat dumplings, he’d hold onto mum’s hand, and occasionally hug her and kiss her and things like that. I also want mum’s hugs and kisses...
He can’t even fold a dumpling properly. Even till now, he hasn’t learnt how to make a nice-looking one.
Normally, other people’s parents would address each other by name, or words like “wife” or “husband”. But my dad always calls mum “Little Butterfly”, “Silly Girl”, “Little Sweetheart,” “Greedy Cat”... It’s even more unbearable than how Torvald calls Nora “my little skylark” in “A Doll’s House”.
Despite my complaints, my dad is very incredible. He’s a university professor at such a young age, and even has a research centre named after him. Dad says that in the future, I have to do equally well or even better. I think so too. After all, I need to take care of mum in the future.
It’s pretty late, and I haven’t finished the test paper Dad prepared for me. I’ll stop here.
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[ KIRO’S SON ]
My dad treats me pretty well. That is, if you ignore how he often makes me a scapegoat.
My dad is a widely known celebrity, so it’s necessary for him to manage his weight strictly. But my dad fails in this aspect. Quoting what Uncle Savin says, “Kiro, the only thing you know how to do is eat, eat, and eat!”
He doesn't eat alone though. He brings my mum along. That’s right, only my mum.
If Uncle Savin does a sudden check and finds snacks in the house, my dad would lack a conscience and assert that they belong to me. Although I’d feel maligned, I won’t rat him out.
Dad likes calling mum “Miss Chips”, and he says chips are a symbol to their love. But I’ve never seen other married couples eat the symbols of their love.
Apart from snatching snacks from me, he likes snatching toys as well. He’s always the one to open the presents mum gives me. He says it’s because he’s afraid I can’t open it given my young age. If that’s the case, why doesn’t he give it to me once he has opened it?! What a liar. 🙃
Everyone says that I look cute, and I think so too hehe~ My mum enjoys kneading my face and ruffling my hair. I think the only time I’ve won against my dad in my four years of existence is when my mum commented that I’m cuter than he is.
Every time my dad bullies me and doesn’t let me get close to mum, I’ll think of what my mum said. A man has a magnanimous heart, so I won’t hold it against him. When he’s 70 or 80 and balding, while I’m in my wise 40s or 50s, mum will definitely like me more. 
Forget it, I shan’t hold it against him. Apple Box is barking at me to take him out for a walk. His golden hair really reminds me of a certain someone!!
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[ SHAW’S SON ]
I think my dad and I get along pretty well.
He likes taking me out skateboarding, and I like it too. But if I were to accidentally fall and injure myself, my dad would be scolded by my mum, and I won’t be able to escape her wrath either.
My mum looks really fierce when she scolds us. Every sentence from her is stabbing. According to her, it was a skill she developed from bickering with my dad when they were younger. Thinking about my dad’s sharp tongue, I do agree that it’s a possibility.
Although my dad looks like a bad citizen, he’s really good academically. According to my mum, he was the only graduate student in Loveland University archaeology department at the age of twenty. He’s the teacher’s pet, a model for his male juniors, and the target of females... I digress. But back then, it was true that many people tried to woo him, but he was only interested in mum.
He loves giving mum nicknames, like “Liu Chun Mei or “Guo Xiaoyu", and "Qing Tingyan". I’m so glad my mum threatened my dad for the privilege to name me. I can’t begin to imagine if my name was coined by my dad, I’d probably be too embarrassed to meet anyone.
[Note] These are the fake pseudonyms Shaw calls her in the Chinese version. In EN, the pseudonym he gives her is “Mary Sue”.
My dad has a unique way of drinking beverages. According to the uncles in his band, my mum used to love drinking bubble tea. But eventually, her tastes got strung along with his strange ones. They’re both pretty compatible hahaha.
His taste buds aren’t the only strange things. His aesthetics are strange as well. Wearing Buddha beads with leathers gloves, a jacket with rivets... My mum says she kept his leather jacket when she was pregnant with me. But once I was born, he took it out again.
It’s 11pm, and dad and I have planned to sneak out to do spray painting on the streets behind my mum’s back. We’ll continue next time.
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More translated and original works: here
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[ Permission to translate ]
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君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author
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writingsbychlo · 3 years
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let me down slow (epilogue)
word count; 2830
summary; it’s moving day, and stiles is getting his dorm all set up with the sheriff, while you and mitch still have a considerable amount more unpacking to do.
notes; I know some of y’all didn’t like the events of part eight, but you’re just gonna’ have to deal with it, because they’re adorable, it was all a misunderstanding, and they deserve the world.
warnings; none, really. some vaguely dirty innuendoes, that’s it.
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Smoothing your hands over the poster on the wall, you pressed it flat to the plaster, holding it steady as Stiles pinned it down straight, and you cheered once the final one was up, the collection of Star Wars posters lining the walls making the room seem entirely perfect for your best friend. Hopping down from the bed, you smoothed out the covers, before letting both of your hands fly up to meet Stiles’ in a set of high fives, and the pair of you cheered as you took it all in.
“It’s really getting there!”
The oversized corkboard he loved so much was sitting against one wall, a shelf you’d spent almost an hour trying to put up between the pair of you as the Sheriff laughed was now assembled, with three baskets sitting along it. The first contained bundles of assorted pins and paperclips for putting up the vast assortment of photos and collage pieces that added, the space freshly cleared so that he could build it up ready for the new year. The second basket contained his camera, with a selection of different types of film for interesting shots, and the third was filled with pens and note pads for all the annotations and quotes he would put under each picture. 
The opposite wall was lined with six matching Star Wars posters, showing off the promotional pictures and titles of the originals and the prequels, a prized possession that you’d bought for Stiles as a graduation present, so that he didn’t have to take his collection at home down and travel them across the country. His desk was already cluttered with notebooks and pens, and the closet was brimming with flannelled shirts. The bookcase was stacked with textbooks and DVDs. Above the desk was pinned a campus map, class schedule, time table and a calendar, all for his convenience, because Stiles had already voiced his desire to cram as many college experiences into his first year as he possibly could, he wanted to live life to the fullest.
Along the windowsill were photo frames with his favourite pictures of everyone from back home, and he was proudly staring at the final few boxes on the floor, as his dad carried the last one in, the final clothes he had ready to be unpacked into the set of drawers beside his bed, your hand coming up to wipe across your forehead in false exhaustion as you looked around. 
“It’s fitting for you, kid.”
His voice was a little rough, and you could tell that the Sheriff was holding back his emotions as he sent his youngest son off to college, too. He held his arms out of you both, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he let out a string of curses at the affection, but pressed his face into his father’s neck as he wrapped around one side of his body, not covering the little sniffle he let out as well as he thought he had. You were quick to follow in his footsteps, tucking yourself happily under the older man’s chin, and you squeezed the two men in a tight hug. 
You easily remained that way, knowing that the two were each trying to hide their emotions, and you smiled to yourself at the thought, rolling your eyes softly. “You know, dad, I’m going to be checking with Melissa that you’re still eating healthy. Don’t think you can start eating bacon and fries every day now just because I’m gone.”
“You’re the worst.”
You giggled as he pushed you both away, but he ruffled your hair fondly, and you decided to lighten the mood a little, turning to swipe the camera from its place on the shelf, checking it was loaded with film before handing the polaroid device over to Noah. “I think we need to take the first picture to put up, don’t you?”
Stiles gasped, nodding happily before turning to you, and you pressed your hands to his shoulder once he’d turned back to face his father, and you jumped up as high as you could, sealing you legs above his hips and he gripped at your thighs, letting out a laugh as you landed on his back, your hands wrapping around his neck. With the cheesiest grin that you could muster, the Sheriff gave you a count down, before clicking the camera and waiting as the small piece of paper pushed it’s way out of the device, before handing it over to you both and putting the camera down on the desk.
Holding up the little slip, he waited patiently as the colour began to drip into it, the picture slowly revealing itself, and you let out a squeal once it became properly formed, so that you could see the image clearly. “I love it! Pin it!”
You tapped his shoulders, and he moved eagerly across to the board, selecting a pin and pushing it through the card, securing it to the very centre of the board. Only a second later, he was grabbing a red pen and a yellow post-it note, scribbling down a reminder before adding the note to the photo, and you peaked over his shoulder to read it. 
‘Move-in Day, August 2020’
You grinned, taking the pen and adding a little heart to it, before placing your hands on your hips and looking around the room. The phone you’d left on the bedside table a while ago buzzed loudly, chiming a little tune as it did, and you jumped at the interruption. Stiles moved across the room for you, picking up the device before letting out a long groan, and you chuckled at his reaction, already knowing who it must be.
“It’s my brother. Your boyfriend. Ew, I hate the sound of it, still.” You grinned at his words, sticking your tongue out as you took it from him, scanning your eyes over the message, before reaching for your bag and sealing the device inside, lifting it up onto your shoulder. “Time to go?”
“Yeah, unfortunately. You’re unpacking these last few boxes alone.” You joked, and he huffed, kicking at one lightly with the toe of his shoes. 
“Not alone, Dad is here to h-”
“Dad is going back to the hotel to rest his back and take a shower. Stiles is alone and putting his own laundry away for the first time in his life.” His dad grinned, and the boy let out a whine at it, stomping his foot a little before giving in. 
“See you tonight, at the restaurant?”
“We will meet you there.” His face scrunched up once again.
“I can’t get with the referring to you and Mitch as a ‘we’. I’m not used to it.” You shrugged, but leaned up to press a friendly kiss to his cheek, before letting him wrap you up in a tight hug, and brush his lips to your temple. “I’ll get used to it. I’m just glad you’re happy.”
His dad left the room, leaving you both to your moment, even though you were only saying goodbye for a few hours, but he was a little jittery once the door had closed. 
“Can I tell you something, before you go? I don’t want it to be a big deal, but I do want to tell you first.” You nodded, brows furrowing as he fiddled with his fingers between your bodies worriedly, and you reached up to place your hand over his own, letting him lace your fingers together. “Now that I’m not obsessing over Lydia anymore, and I’m in college and really taking a minute to get to know myself, I think I discovered something.”
“Is it good?”
“Yeah.. yeah, I think so.” He was nervous, biting down on his lower lip, and you squeezed his hand reassuringly in an attempt to tell him that it was okay. “I think I might be bi.”
A blushing tinge spread over his cheeks, his eyes ducked to avoid your own as the heat spread up to his ears and painted his pale skin pink, and you leaned in to press your body to his, your arms wrapping around him tightly, and he let out a deep sigh, before wrapping himself around you once again, his body sagging out of relief. 
“There was this guy in my welcome lecture, and he was really good looking, and while I was still in my Lydia phase I didn’t really think about anyone else that way, so I was pretty shocked when my first thought was about a guy, but then he asked me if I wanted to get coffee before the semester starts, and I said yes. We’ve been texting for a few days, now.” The words came out jumbled and hurried, and you stepped back to look at him, making sure to catch his gaze as he gave you a nervous smile. 
“I’m so happy for you, Stiles.”
“I’m going to tell my dad and brother at dinner tonight, but I just needed some support.” You nodded, before stepping back as he let out a relieved laugh and wiped a hand over his face. “God, I feel so much better. I hate keeping things from you. I don’t know how you did it for months, having secrets with you kills me.”
“It wasn’t without a lot of suffering, trust me.”
He grinned, before nudging you towards the door. “See you in a couple of hours.” You simply nodded, waving your goodbye to the Sheriff as he chatted with the other parents of Stiles’ various roommates for the year, and you made your way to the door, stepping out into the corridor. 
With hurried steps, you made your way down the stairs, knowing it would be quicker than taking the elevator, and you were just glad Stiles was living on the first floor, you really weren’t sure he’d be able to handle hiking up twelve layers worth of stairs to the top floor on a tired day if the lift ever broke. 
It wasn’t a short walk to the place you had promised to meet your boyfriend, and the walk was enjoyable, hot sun shining down and a light breeze carrying through the campus, cooling you down from the heat. Shuffling through your bag, you searched for your sunglasses, lifting them out to place them on your face, and letting out a happy sigh when you no longer had to squint. 
You could already see the man you were waiting to meet, his body coming into view as he sat on the edge of the fountain, scrolling idly on his phone as he waited for you, the bag slumped on the floor beside his feet was spilling out with textbooks and his laptop, and his hair was messy from constantly running through it. Picking up your speed a little, you made your way over to him and took up before him, your shadow falling across him. He glanced up, expression stoic and stony before he realised who it was, and his face split open in a wide grin as his entire demeanour brightened. 
“Thought you were standing me up for a second there. You’re late.”
“Yeah, well, I got caught up. You can believe that I will never just leave you hanging.” You offered, and he scooped up his bag, swinging the strap over his shoulder before standing up, and he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 
Pulling you in towards himself, he bumped the tip of his nose with your own, before letting out a sigh. “I know you wouldn't.” He pressed his lips to your own, a sweet kiss that made your heart thud and your mind spin, before you were pushing up into him a little further. Resting your hands on his shoulders, his own slipped down to your waist, holding your body to his as his mouth moved with your own in gentle rhythms, and giving you one final peck when he pulled away. “Ready to go?”
“Absolutely.” He took your hand in his, pulling you away toward the direction of the apartment the two of you had so carefully chosen together, and you leaned your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked. He twisted, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head, and you squeezed you hand in acknowledgement of his affections. “Guess who I ran into earlier?”
“Who?”
“The redhead from a few weeks back.” He stiffened underneath you, only relaxing when you paused, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips as he fixed you with a worried glance. “Her name is Cassandra, which you never told me, and she’s actually really nice. We arranged to go for coffee.”
He practically choked on his breath, turning to look at you with wide and worried eyes as he held the door to the building open for you, and you slipped through, letting him follow as you laughed lightly at his reaction. “What was she doing there?”
“Her friend was moving into Stiles’ building, and she was helping out.” You shrugged, the two of you stepping into the elevator and you were glad to be alone, leaning back against the wall and pushing your glasses up onto the top of your head to peer at him, raising a brow. “Hey, stop freaking out. I can see the cogs working in your head. She asked about us, you know.”
“What did she say?”
“Just wanted to know if I was all good, and if things worked out.” You shrugged a little, your glasses slipping on your head, and you detangled them from your loose hair and put them away once again. “I told her that we’re doing amazing, and that I’ve never been so happy, and that we have a place together with a whole bunch of plans for the future.”
He finally let his shoulders drop from the tension he’d built up, before tucking some hair away behind your ears and stepping in towards you, crowding you into the wall a little further. “Never been so happy, huh?”
“Totally and one hundred percent in love with you.”
“I love you too.” He whispered the words into your mouth as he leaned down to kiss you, barely getting a chance to do so before the elevator was chiming and the doors were sliding open. You grinned in the kiss as he huffed out, pulling away and letting the two of you walk along, both of you patting down your bags to find your keys, but he found his own first, and lifting the set up to the door to open it.
Boxes still littered the room, labelled with things to be unpacked and brought out, but whereas Stiles had been unpacking only one room, the two of you had been unpacking an entire apartment, and there was still a lot to buy and a lot to set up, the flat-pack furniture box holding the coffee table the two of you had yet to assemble was sitting with coasters out and rings on top from drinks, using it for its purpose before it was even constructed. 
“We’re still on for dinner with Dad and Stiles, right? I don’t think we have any leftovers from last night’s takeout and I’m too lazy to go for a supermarket trip.” He flopped down onto the couch, and you nodded, hanging up your bag on the hooks and taking your phone from it, running you fingers through your hair and tugging on some of the knots that had built up.
“Yes, we are. Are you going to get changed, or wash up?”
“No, I'm going to take a nap.” He grinned, settling along the couch and tucking a hand behind his head, pouting his lips when he felt you lean over him. Pressing a soft and quick peck to his lips, you brushed some hair off of his forehead and out of his eyes, before standing up. 
“Okay, well, I’m going to take a shower before we go.”
You jumped when his eyes snapped back open, and he rolled up from the couch, grinning cheekily as his hands found your hips and he turned you around. “You know what, maybe I should wash up. We haven’t christened the bathroom yet, and I bet you look great on your knees in the shower.”
He tapped your ass cheekily in a light spank, and you gasped at the impact, but laughed anyway as he guided you through the halls, tugging at the bottom of your sundress as you went, until he had the material over your head, dropping it to the floor in the doorway to the bathroom. “You’re incorrigible.”
“You love it.” He teased, switching on the water and waiting for it to get hot as he stripped himself down, and you let out an exaggerated sigh. 
“I love you.”
“Good, because I love you too.”
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kim-lexie · 3 years
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2021 april rewind.
music.
‘all yours’ ep by astro. my boys did not hold back. this album has superior b-sides. the vibe of this one is stellar and i am continually blown away by their vocals. some of my fave tracks include ‘dear my universe’, ‘all good’, and ‘all stars.
‘spider’ by hoshi of SVT. woah. this track appeared out of nowhere. it is up there with kai’s ‘mmmh’, they eat together at lunch kind of thing. the choreo is so unique and never been done before. loved it.
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kimsejeong. ‘whale’ and ‘warning’ have been on repeat. i love her vocals and the fresh vibe that these songs possess.
‘drunk dazed’ by enhypen. this comeback was something else. i loved this track. have not really been invested in enhypen, like i listened to their title track ‘given-taken’, but was not awaiting this comeback. but my goodness, this track made me want to listen and watch all their choreos. this was a great comeback, and i loved this track and choreography.
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‘after school’ by weeekly. it’s a bop simple fact.
‘in the morning’ by itzy. well this originally was not a fave, but as with most jyp girl group tracks after a listen or two it becomes absolutely addictive, and that is the same with ‘in the morning’. they did good, and it was an unexpected feeling for itzy, because it is typically a fresh pop beat, but this one was on the opposite spectrum. i am excited to see where this will take itzy in the future.
drama & movies *spoiler alert*
hi, me! this was an incredible gem. i would definitely give it a watch. it was sweet, quirky, humorous, and heartfelt. we follow bahn ha-ni, a woman moving through the motions of life in an unstable job. she stumbles upon her past younger self. the younger bahn ha-ni challenges her, offering a fresh perspective that she hasn’t seen in a long time. with her new outlook, we follow ha-ni as she pursues new goals and guides her younger self back to the past. of course we meet a young man, han yoon-hyun, who appears to not have any ambitions, but is just navigating life in his own way. of course in the traditional drama way, turns out they had an encounter as younger children. we also come to find that ha-ni blames herself for her father’s passing, because he saved her and pushed her out of the way of an oncoming car. the younger ban ha-ni was sent by him, and one of the quotes i loved was this:
my life has been completely ruined, and dad wanted to remind of how i used to be. he wanted to tell me that through you. he wanted to show how radiant…we were.
we love it and we stan. overall loved this one and would rate it a 9 out of 10.
navillera. this was another incredible drama. the rollercoaster of emotions. the tears shed, it was incredible piece of art. it’s so bittersweet to say goodbye to this cast of characters. i would 10 out of 10 recommend. deok-chool is a 70-something year old man who is recently retired, and he had previously been unable to pursue his dream of ballet. now he decided to pursue that dream and making it a reality. he meets chae-rok. this young man’s heart for ballet has begun to fade and then he is met with the task of teaching this gentleman ballet. through this odd turn of events, a beautiful friendship starts to blossom. we also come to find that the reason deok-chool is adamant about pursuing dance is because it helps his memories stay fresh, because we come to find that he has alzheimers, which literally hit me like a truck because i did not see that coming. song kang’s performance of this character was stunning. from the ballet to the heart of the character, he embodied him. and the gentle, park in-hwan, did a fantastic job. portrayed a strong man finally finding piece with a dream he struggled for years to pursue. so incredibly proud of him finding himself and then being able to find a new friendship in the midst of his grief. favorite moments: the scene when chae-rok desperately danced to have deok-chool’s memories return to him because he wrote how seeking chae-rok dance brought his memories back. tears were truly shed. and then when deok-chool said, ‘did you soar?’ when he saw chae-rok for the first time at the train track, after he had been away on the global stage.
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how to be thirty. this was an interesting one and the plot didn’t go where i thought it would go. like the main dude, seung-yoo lied like a lot, and ji-won lost her job because he was trash. and the two girls he messed with were angry at each other, where in reality shouldn’t they have been angry with him for keeping this secret from them? like he started seeing ji-won while he was technically in a relationship with hye-ryung who he shouldn’t have been in a relationship with in the first place. hye-ryung was holding on to him and she was kinda crazy, but he should have been honest up front with what was happening. and he broke up with her before it spiraled. i really hope our ji-won is happy with the director dude because she deserves it, and deserves a real man who won’t mess with her. honestly, the second lead couple saved this show, ran-joo the radio show host and the young man, joon-young; because seung-yoo and ji-won’s relationship wasn’t it. i would rate this a 5.5 out of 10, because the plot just wasn’t it for me. the acting was good, but the characters were awful.
please don’t date him. this was a short interesting web drama. we follow ji-sung a programmer for an appliance team. she stumbles upon developing a refrigerator that distinguishes bad men. she is able to help the ladies around her who are confronted by horrible men. she then becomes involved with a firefighter kook-hee, but he is struggling with his past. honestly, this was a nice drama, and i am glad that i stumbled upon this one. i loved kook-he’s character and the way in which he wanted to protect those around him, and that he finally learned that he was able to accept love from those around him. they were so sweet ji-sung and kook-hee. i also loved her little trio of ladies and even though they all had different goals they came together to support one another. i would rate it an 8 out of 10.
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vincenzo. y’all i loved every freaking minute of this. we meet the mafia lawyer, vincenzo casino, who comes to korea to pick up some gold but gets caught up with cha-young. she needs to avenge the death of her father, and the unjust situations around her. babel a horrible company with shady dealings is at the center of it all. and it all unfolds from there. many, like many plot twists ensue. unexpected characters. it is insanely funny, terrifying, and all the emotions in between. it was a satisfying watch i’d rate it a 12 out of 10 recommend.
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Overwatch Music Headcannons!
My personal opinions on what all these fools are listening to.
Ana - Slow, calm, and ambient. If it has lyrics it’s a suprise to even her.
Ashe - A country girl through and through, her taste is pretty good but she will put up with literally anything if the song gets on your nerves. Doesn’t listen to music while working.
Baptiste - No real favorites genres, but he enjoys reggae and rap. He is also Way too in to Jimmy Buffet. He managed to hit the point in his life where he got super into him without becoming a dad and it’s almost impressive. He does, in fact, live on island time.
Bastion - Not enough exposure to have favorites yet, but it does enjoy vocaloid and polka (of all things). Does bird song count as music actually? It likes that too.
Brigitte - Super bland girl power workout playlist stuff. She’s basic but we love her.
D.Va - Goes back and forth on listening to music while playing. On one hand, she should stay focused and keep her ears open, on the other hand, she’s more focused with it (and enjoys the challenge). But since she’s been playing on a team, she’s gone back to listening to them over her music. Electro pop, mostly.
Doomfist - All it has to do is be a good soundtrack for a wrestling match and he is all in.
Echo - Will listen to just about anything, but loves musical soundtracks. She doesn’t mean to mimic the emotions of the song (or the person singing the song’s face) but she can’t help it. She quote-sings them when something reminds her of one.
Genji - The man’s taste is a meme. Got into MCR and shit while he was in blackwatch but his taste begins and ends with Jpop.
Hanzo - Says he only likes classical music but the man absolutely listens to country and folk and cries.
Junkrat - Listens to literally anything. Doesn’t even have to be music. Usually isn’t music.
Lucio - His music reflects his large palette of influences, and he doesn’t particularly like favoring any of them. It would be like picking a favorite child! But, more recently he has been racking a lot of inspiration from more melodic protest music.
McCree - Slightly more varied than Ashe, by which I mean he throws in some heartland rock, dark country, and folk for spice.
Mei - Painfully cute. Mostly listens to electronic music she thinks has a happy melody but will throw in some classical and musical songs for flavor.
Mercy - Surprisingly into NDW (“New German Wave”) but otherwise listens to just the blandest pop. Does sometimes listen to music while working.
Moira - tries to present like she just listens to Irish alt rock and Bowie but is also super into anime OSTs. Not good at hiding it. Picked up the same emo musical tendencies of all of Blackwatch but her music is already so weird that no one brings it up anymore.
Orisa - Similar to Bastion in that she is still carving out her taste but picked up some stuff from Efi. She’s honestly mostly into it for the vibrations and lyrics. Solarpunk, African, and a touch of bubbly pop. And Lucio, obviously.
Pharah - Rock. And. Roll. Picked up some of her taste from the old overwatch members but it all goes back to rock n roll.
Reaper - Is emo, obviously, but will also go for some classic punk rock. Pretty good with the history too. His taste is obvious but not as terrible as you might think.
Reinhardt - ANYTHING that can be sung very loudly while drunk. And Hasselhoff. Also the Goofy Goober song from the original SpongeBob movie. Uses that talent to delight Torb's kids on visits.
Roadhog - Ambivalent to music but prefers slower, calmer stuff, especially in comparison to Junkrat. Used to listen to music while working but stopped so he would hear the rat.
Sigma - The man may experience the vastness of the universe as a near constant, overwhelming classical melody, but he is tone deaf and at best ambivalent to classical music. Nowadays music is a really bad time (listen to two different songs at once. Now imagine one is in your ears and one is in your head. Feels bad, doesn’t it?). But, before the accident he mostly listened to A. Blandly atmospheric “music” B. "Songs" released by nasa (did you know nasa has a Spotify?) C. Bill Nye the Science Guy level science parody songs.
Soldier 76: Heartland rock was originally his jam but he’s mellowed out into a rainbow connection radio kinda guy (off the clock, of course).
Sombra - Much like Genji, she is in it for the meme. Unlike Genji, she is aware that this is the goal. Likes stuff like electro pop rock, sure, but most of the time the music in her headphones is just the most generic "cyberpunk hacker" music she can find. And really, Painfully old meme songs.
Symmetra - she likes her music like she likes everything else. Neat, precise, and clear. And, yep. It's really boring.
Torbjorn - Generic Dad. Nothing more, nothing less.
Tracer - English punk rock, mostly. Oh, and just the sweetest love songs. Her and Emily have a dozen different love songs and they are all sickeningly sweet. She always manages to get into a band right as or before it breaks up. To contain this power she limits herself to older bands.
Widowmaker - Grand and a touch obtuse. So, classical mostly, but also some more dramatic pop songs.
Winston - Grew up listening to Harold Winston’s classical music (they say it’s good for human babies brains, right?), and never quite grew out of it. Picked up some newer music from his time in overwatch though.
Wrecking ball - Only connecting theme is that it drives you to smash stuff. Kinda like Junkrat actually. Likes some classical, same as Winston, but leans towards the stuff that wakes the dead.
Zarya - Much like Brigitte’s, but a touch less generic and a good bit more variety. Her goth streak still lies thick in her music.
Zenyatta - Music to meditate to. Leads towards the more esoteric.
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babssionate · 3 years
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The Badger as Sweet as Honey - a Profile by me, Babette.
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All the pictures and artwork above isn’t mine, I put them together to create a moodboard for the pitch I had to do. Credit goes to their original creator. 
I promised @formulola to share some of my writing with her, but I’m getting out of my bubble and sharing it with all of you. I’ve said it a million times, I’m currently following a minor to get better at writing. The first half of this semester I have been learning all about Fiction, Poetry and Non-Fiction. 2 of the works I created I’ve shared (just click the links added to Fiction and Poetry), here I am sharing a third one (Non-Fiction).
My final Non-Fiction assignment consisted of writing a Profile on someone that you connect with, someone that has touched/shaped your life in a certain way. It also needed to give a clear image of the person you were writing about. If you are interested about my profile about Daniel, click the ‘keep reading’ option below.
If you were to write a Profile on someone, who would you pick and what would you write about?
“All good always. It’s always going to be alright. The sun will always shine, you may have your ups and downs but it’s just trying to be positive with anything you do.” – Daniel Ricciardo, 2021.
The sound is like a scream, disappearing as fast as it came. The speeds are higher than anything I have ever seen, the corner nearing within seconds. The battles are harder than before, everyone trying to reach the top step of that podium. Any Formula 1 fan would give their life to race an F1 car, but not me. I cannot imagine lowering yourself down into a car, knowing you could crash out any minute. 
To me it’s not strange that I found comfort in loving one of the few drivers known for a lot more than his racing ability. Out of the 20 drivers lining up the grid, he is one that constantly licks the stamp and sends it. You can spot him from a million miles away, sun rays bouncing off his pearly whites. His laughter is like music to everyone’s ears, combine that with his carefree attitude and you get Daniel. But as soon as the helmet is on, the Honey Badger comes out to play. 
Daniel Joseph Ricciardo, born on July 1st, 1989 in Perth, Australia. It would take me over 24 hours to reach his hometown, still I feel closer to him than ever. His racing gene didn’t come out of nowhere. His mom, Grace, would always take him to see his dad Giuseppe, ‘Joe’, race at the Barbagallo Raceway in Western Australia. It seemed only right that Daniel would start a motorsport career as well. When Daniel turned nine, he started karting and won a scholarship to the Asian Formula BMW championship. In 2007, seventeen-year-old Daniel got the chance to move up to a higher level of racing, Formula Renault. This would mean that he had move to Europe so he could battle for the title in European and Italian championships. A year later, in 2008, Daniel won the European title. From that point onward, his career started taking off. He made his debut in a Formula 1 car in 2009, testing for Red Bull and in 2011 he had his first race in a Toro Rosso. As of the 2020 F1 season he has 7 wins, 31 podiums, 3 pole positions, 15 fastest laps, driven 188 races and has a total of 1159 career points. 
When I started watching F1 around 2017, my dad always rooted for the Dutch driver on the grid: Max Verstappen. I didn’t pick Verstappen as my favorite driver, I wanted to be a rebellious daughter, so I went for the teammate Daniel. What drew me in? Daniel’s loud and bubbly personality. I had been looking for someone to help me realize life wasn’t as bad as I made it out to be. During my entry into the F1 community I had just started therapy for my anxiety and panic disorder and seeing Daniel’s carefree, happy personality made my life more enjoyable. He became my distraction from how bad I was feeling, teaching me multiple things along the way.
Seeing Daniel, bouncing his way down the paddock towards his car, it brings a childlike feeling along with it. He knows how to have fun and he doesn’t care who sees it. I, on the other hand, always cared about every single opinion someone could have. I didn’t take up space, I kept myself out of the picture and I didn’t act out of control. Seeing Daniel’s carefree nature sparked a fire inside of me, something I only started noticing in 2018. It took me a year to complete therapy and I would start college a week after. The weekend in between my last session and my first class was a race weekend, The Belgian Grand Prix 2018 at Spa-Francorchamps. Daniel didn’t win that race; in fact, he wasn’t even racing after lap one. His race was over when Fernando Alonso's orange McLaren flew over Charles Leclerc's Sauber. It was a domino effect, Daniel got hit in the back by Kimi Raikkonen's Ferrari and he was done. I was gutted and for a second the thought went through my mind, “Is this a sign of how my college experience will go? From day one I will be out?” When I watched his interview after the race, I was greeted with a still smiling Daniel, he wasn’t bothered by the DNF. He had picked up his ego and motivation and was only looking ahead. He was picturing his glass half full. 
That sums up Daniel, a happy go lucky guy who will always see his glasses half full. I on the other had always been pessimistic, glass half empty, ‘it’s better to prepare for a letdown than to let it surprise you’. I must have spent days catching up with old videos and races, taking Daniel’s personality in. Fitting pieces of it into my own. I wanted to become as carefree, as happy and as kind as the man I saw racing every weekend and I wasn’t quitting until I had reached it. 
Life isn’t always about sunshine and rainbows, I had to learn this the hard way. Seeing life crumble down around you and not having the tools to fix it again is a tough pill to swallow. F1, similarly, is not always about winning and podiums. Still, Daniel was prepared when he became an F1 driver, the Honey Badger had already been born. In the wild, honey badgers are animals with two personalities: when you look at one from a distance, he is cute and cuddly. As soon as you cross his territory though, you better run for your life. He will go after anything, from tigers to pythons. The honey badger isn’t stupid either, he’ll find a way out of every situation. In a South African zoo, a honey badger called Stoffel would always find new ways to escape his habitat, using everything he could get his paws on to climb out and scare his keeper. 
It was Daniel’s former trainer, Stuart Smith, who at the time showed him a documentary about the honey badger and pointed Daniel towards the resemblance the two shared. Daniel looks cute and cuddly; I would love to have him as my friend. He is always up for a joke and a chat. But if you are an opponent, in the way of a lot of points, well you better get out the way as quickly as possible. The Honey Badger will go after anyone, from world champions to his closest friends.  The Honey Badger doesn’t give up, no matter how quickly the corner approaches. He’ll use all of his senses to break a fraction later and to beat his rival.
Three years ago, Daniel was asked about what his alter ego meant to him. On the podcast of former F1 world champion, Nico Rosberg, he said the following: “When I adopted the Honey Badger, I made a pact with myself that I would rather try and fail and potentially crash out, than not try at all.” That quote has stuck with me ever since. I have been held captive by my perfectionism and fear of failure and disappointment my entire life. Hearing Dan say that he would rather fail than not try at all was a push I needed. For months, I tried to implement the Honey Badger mentality into my life, reminding myself that not trying would be worse than failing. That mentality I had copied of off Daniel did so much for me, that I was able to reach miles stones I never thought I would reach. 
There is another part of Daniel I connect with: his passion and view on mental health. In 2018, Daniel hit his lowest point of F1, “The last year at Red Bull was probably emotionally the most tough, because at the start of the year it looked like I was maybe competing for the championship, and then mid-year realised that I wanted to move on. There were a lot of emotions that year.” When he left Red Bull and joined the French Renault team, he found himself having the option to make some noise about mental health in general. Someone so happy, who never seems mentally strained, suddenly took part in the Renault UK Mental Health Champions program, speaking to fans about the importance of talking about mental health. In 2021, he has joined the British McLaren team who announced their partnership with MIND UK last year on Mental Health Day. 
In my fight to break down the stigma surrounding mental health I found an ally. Someone who is just as passionate and sees the importance of speaking up. In my fight to take back the confidence I lost I found a role model. Someone who will always remind me to see the glass half full and that being sweet as honey is a good thing as long as we don’t forget to let the badger out every once in a while. Thank you, Daniel.
If you reached the bottom of this long ass story, let me know what you thought! I’ll be handing this innnnnn on April 2nd, excited 🧡✨
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doc-pickles · 3 years
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the storm & the wind
Brooke is running and Alex happens to meet her along her journey. Their brief encounter might just change everything for her.
hey hi hello I am DOUBLE POSTING for some god damn reason. (i updated treacherous on AO3 for the the first time in 20 years) this was in my drafts and I felt the sudden overwhelming need to finish it today. I love this piece more than I can say and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy so I hope y’all enjoy it.
also the title comes from this quote from Little Women: You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone.
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The snow crunching beneath her feet soaks into her worn Converse, a chilling reminder that she should’ve thought to grab something warmer. She makes a mental note to throw her now soaked socks over the heating vent later as she walks into the diner. It’s an old rundown place, but the gust of warm air that brushes over her face as she enters is a more than welcome feeling. Sitting at the counter she knows she should order something to eat but she can’t bring herself to ask for more than a cup of coffee when an aging waitress comes by and asks, her fingers greedily clutching the mug as she takes a sip.
“You’re not really dressed for the weather.”
The voice startles her, her grip around the cup tightening as she turns to her left. The owner of the voice can’t be much older than her, his chiseled jawline dotted with stubble and his dark hair cropped close to his head. He looks grumpy, an expression more at home on someone twice his age but the glint in his eyes keeps his youthful appearance.
“Your shoes are practically soaked through and you have a sweater on in 13-degree weather,” the stranger continues to share his thoughts, his comment prompting her to pull her cardigan tighter around herself. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here Blondie.”
The observation reminds her that the thick braid hanging over her shoulder is a bright bleach blonde instead of her natural brunette coloring. She’d hastily dyed it in a rest stop somewhere in Ohio, desperate to wash away any traces of him that she could.
“I’m from New Jersey. Well… Kind of. I’m originally from Pennsylvania.”
The words slip from her mouth before she can second-guess them. Normally she would worry about giving any identifying information out, the fear of him being able to find her consuming her mind. But she knows now that she’s far from New Jersey and the life she left behind.
“You’re from the East Coast and you didn’t pack a winter coat?”
“I forgot… I was in a rush.”
That part isn’t a total lie, she had been in a rush when she left. She had shoved as much as she could into her suitcase while he had been working, not wanting to face his anger at her sudden departure. Now though she wishes she had put more thought into what she grabbed, she’d been freezing since she left.
“Here, you look like a wet dog shivering like that,” the man slips his thick red flannel off, holding the garment out to her with an expectant look. “Cmon, I don't have fleas or anything.”
She takes the proffered jacket, only because she’s shaking just as much as he says she is. The heavy material settles on her shoulders instantly warming her. The man looks at her for a moment before turning back to his coffee, speaking as he stares at the dark liquid, “If you're from Jersey what the hell are you doing out here? Middle of nowhere Iowa isn’t exactly a tourist destination.”
“I’m starting over, running away from… something. At least I think I am. I’m not quite sure,” she toys with the sleeves of his jacket, finally looking back up at him after a moment with an accusing tone. “Why do you care anyways? Are you just trying to make sure I don’t have any concerned family members that will come looking for me after you kidnap and murder me?”
There’s a momentary pause before a peel of laughter erupts from the man, a glint taking over his dark eyes as he speaks, “Jesus, you’re really paranoid or something, huh?”
“Or something,” the words are barely a whisper, but they’re loud enough for him to hear and stop his laughter. She looks up and meets his eyes, noticing how he looks her over as if trying to figure out exactly what she’s thinking.
“I’m not trying to kill you, just trying to make conversation,” as if to prove his point he holds his hand out towards her. “I’m Alex.”
She hesitates only for a moment before settling her hand into his much larger one.
“I’m Brooke.”
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The conversation seems easier after that, Alex talking about bringing his younger brother home after he had visited him in Seattle and Brooke talking about how she just finished her pre med degree at Princeton. They actually had a lot in common, an almost comforting feeling for her since Paul had isolated her from all her friends.
Paul.
She didn’t dare bring up her abusive husband or the horrors he had dragged her through. No, today she’s not poor defenseless Brooke Stadler whose husband can’t control his temper. Today she’s just Brooke, recent college grad who’s eating breakfast with Alex, the cute doctor with a charming smile.
“So why’d you say you’re starting over,” Alex finally broaches the subject as they both finish their meals. “I mean you just finished pre-med, that means you’re starting med school in the fall right? What are you running from? ”
Brooke shrugs, eyes falling to her now empty plate and she avoids Alex's piercing stare, “I’m supposed to start at Princeton med but now I’m not so sure. A lot has happened lately… It's complicated.”
Alex‘s hand reaches out for her arm, the move causing her to jump slightly. An embarrassed blush paints itself on her cheeks as Alex searches her eyes, almost as if he knows what she’s thinking about. He seems to brush the thought off quickly though as he continues to prod at her.
“Well… Did you get in anywhere else? It’s not too late to change your mind,” Alex shrugged as if sensing Brooke’s discomfort with the situation. “I was supposed to do my residency at the hospital down the street before I switched to Seattle at the last minute. Best thing I probably could’ve done for myself.”
“Well… I got into Harvard too. But I’m not sure,” there’s hesitation lacing her voice when she knows there shouldn’t be. Her mind is swirling, thinking about the fact that she could always go back to him. “I don’t know, I was thinking about going back home.”
Alex scoffs, the small noise causing Brooke to stare at him intensely, “You're not going back home, that’s a load of crap.”
“What makes you so sure about that? You don’t know anything about me.”
There’s a pause as Alex takes a sip of his coffee, a deliberate distraction as he attempts to string together the right words, “Well that black eye isn’t hidden as well as you think it is. And you jumped about a mile in the air when I first started talking to you. So I’m assuming you’re not running from something but someone. Did I get it right?”
Brooke’s fingers froze around her mug, eyes watering as she stared blankly at the dark liquid swirling inside. She pushes down the uncomfortable lump forming in her throat, trying to convince her nerves that Alex was just observant and not a threat.
“My husband… he has a temper,” eyes still focused on the coffee instead of Alex, Brooke found it marginally easier to talk about the real reason she was sitting in a diner in Iowa. “I just knew, the last time he… I just knew if he did it again he would kill me. So when he went to work I grabbed as much as I could and I got in my car and I drove. I don’t think I stopped for almost five hours, not really knowing where I was going. I just knew I had to keep going, that I couldn’t live like that any longer.”
The sounds of the diner around them are all Brooke can hear as her truth settles in the air, Alex taking in everything she’d ungraciously word vomited out. When he finally does speak again, there’s no tell tale tone of pity in his voice that she’d been anticipating.
“My dad was the same way, but my mom never had it in her to run. She was pretty messed up herself,” Brooke looks up at the stranger next to her as a small chuckle breaks through his serious tone. “She wouldn’t run so I had to raise my siblings, I had to make sure we all stayed alive. So I get it, why you’re running. And for what it’s worth, I think you should keep running.”
Swiping at the tears that had collected under her eyelashes Brooke thought about Alex’s words, “He's gonna find me, I know he will.”
“Screw him,” Alex scoffs, taking a swig of his coffee before continuing. “Go to Harvard, change your name, live your life. I promise you, you’ll regret it if you turn around and go back. You have a chance, a real chance, to change your life. Don’t let that slip away.”
There’s a beat of silence as Alex’s encouragement settles deep within Brooke’s chest. The man was a stranger in every sense of the word but somehow his whole hearted belief in her encouraged her to keep moving forward.
“Think of it this way, you get to start a brand new life, no strings attached,” Alex continues. “You can pick something cool! Something that means something. Like… One of those sisters from the book where their dad is away at war?”
“Little Women?”
“Yeah that one,” Brooke laughs at Alex’s statement, causing him to roll his eyes. “Oh shut up, my sister was obsessed with it and made me read it like a hundred times. But all those sisters were badasses, you could use one of those names. Like Amy or Beth. Well no she dies… How about Jo! You definitely look like a Jo to me.”
Brooke’s nose scrunches up at the names, causing both of them to laugh as Alex comes up with ridiculous suggestions. A flood of relief washes over Brooke as the two continue to talk. It had been a long time since she’d let her guard down around someone and just been herself.
A while later she excuses herself to the bathroom, a flash of disappointment striking her when she comes back to an empty seat. Her bill that had been sitting on the counter was paid, the receipt turned over and messy scrawl covering the back.
‘Keep running.’
-
So she does, Brooke keeps running and running and running and she doesn’t stop. In fact, when the running doesn’t feel like enough anymore she takes up actual running to calm her mind.
She runs every morning, at least two miles to clear her head and to keep herself sane. The days she misses her run are filled with overwhelming thoughts and anxiety that courses through her veins so quickly that it feels like a river crashing over her nervous system. She changes her name, cuts her hair, goes to Harvard and graduates top of her class. Every movement, every breath feels like she’s just moving towards the end of a never ending trail. But she keeps going, she keeps running because it’s all she can do.
When she gets accepted into Seattle Grace, one of the best hospitals in the country that puts thousands of miles between her and her past, it finally feels like a breath of fresh air, like relief is on the horizon. So she leaves Boston, leaves the east coast and everything familiar and finally feels like she might be able to stop running.
Seattle is different, it’s new and unexpected and perfect. It’s the first place where her name feels like it’s truly hers even though she’d lived with it now for almost seven years. Her first morning in her new apartment she goes for a run and finds herself looking over the Seattle harbor with a wide smile on her face. She’s a doctor now, something she’s worked towards her whole life it seems, but now it seems so real.
And then she gets put onto a Peds rotation and her heart seems to stop beating in her chest. Because her attending, Doctor Karev, is someone who’s appeared in her mind almost everyday since the first time she met him. His face, albeit a bit younger, is the one that appears when she thinks she can’t go on any longer.
“You mind?”
Alex’s voice brings her back from her daze, the same one that echoes her footfalls as she chases an adrenaline high every morning. She shakes her head in a futile attempt to clear it, “Sorry.”
“Why are you following me,” there’s an annoyed tone to his voice as she mimics his brisk pace down the hallway. She’d heard horror stories about him, about how rude and mean he was but she never would've guessed it was him.
“I'm your intern for the day.”
“Oh. Well, hello, intern,” Alex side eyes her, not really taking her in. “You have a name?”
“Jo. Jo Wilson,” it’s probably the fiftieth time she's said her name out loud since coming to Seattle but this time it feels different.
There’s a pause and Alex turns to take her in once more, as if he had missed something the first time he’d looked. She almost thinks he’ll say something, but he just shrugs and returns to tying his trauma gown, “Oh, nice. I like chicks with boys' names.”
The moment that she thought was there was gone and she stared at her shoelaces as Alex and Doctor Torres prattled on about something. She figures she should be grateful that he didn’t recognize her, that the seven years and the constant self improvement she’d put into herself had paid off. Still, her heart sunk as she realized that the man that had pushed her to keep running, to change her life, didn’t remember her.
-
Their story isn’t easy, in fact it’s one of the hardest things she’s ever been through. But there’s not a single ounce of hesitation or regret in her body when she wakes up every morning next to him. She’s always up before him, solely so she can get her run in before he wakes. By the time she comes back and showers, his eyes are sleepily staring up at her and his arms are reaching out for her like she’d been gone longer than a quick jog.
Alex is the person she’d needed, the one who pushed her to be better and made her feel like she didn’t need to change anything about herself. But the need to run, to keep running still hammered in her chest right under her heartbeat. She figured it would always sit there, the constant anxiety that her past might catch up with her if she stopped running.
When Paul shows up, all she wants is Alex. Before Seattle she would've run, would’ve been gone before anyone could blink to miss her. But now she wants nothing more than to curl up in Alex’s arms and never leave. She knows there’s more that needs to be done though, knows there’s more to the fight and that she needs to keep running this last little bit.
It’s not until she sees her ex husband laying in a hospital bed brain dead that Jo finally feels like she can breathe again, like she can stop fighting and just be. The breath of relief that washes over her as Alex runs his hand down her back feels like a thousand pound weight being lifted off her shoulders.
“I was pregnant.”
There’s a pause and she can feel Alex tense next to her, his hand on her back slowing as his eyes bore into her. She wishes she could stop but the words have been dying to slip out for the past six years that she’s been with him.
“The day we met, I was pregnant,” she turns to look at him, tears shining in her eyes. He doesn’t look shocked, not as shocked as he would’ve been if he didn’t know too. “I almost turned around and went back to him and raised a baby with him but I didn’t. The only reason I didn’t was because of this cocky asshole I met in a shitty diner who convinced me to start over. You’re the reason I kept running, the reason I didn’t go back. Whenever I doubted myself I heard your voice, the voice of a complete stranger mind you, in the back of my head telling me to keep running. You... you’re the reason I’m alive.”
Alex keeps his gaze on her for a minute, not daring to look away as they both realize that the other has known. Through the years of their relationship, since their second meeting in the very halls of this hospital they’ve both known exactly who the other is.
“You did all of that by yourself, you just needed a little push,” Alex brings her close again, his lips brushing against her forehead as she folds herself into his side. She’s crying full on now, her chest shaking as she finally lets herself stop running and lets the pent up emotions of the past few days wash over her. “I knew you could do it, I’m glad you did.”
Her tears don’t stop for a few days as she comes to terms with the fact that there’s no longer a need for her to run. In fact a few days later as she’s on her morning jog she stops and takes the deepest breath she feels she’s ever taken. As she leans on her knees she takes in the feeling of air freely flowing through her lungs, the exhilaration coursing through her body akin to what she thinks completing a marathon must feel like. Her eyes scan the Seattle harbor, taking in the sunrise as she breathes heavily and lets the day settle in around her. She'd run her race, she’d run it longer and faster and better than she’d thought she was capable of and finally, finally, she had finished.
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soyforramen · 3 years
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String-Theory Miracle
A holiday prequel to this Witchy prompt (Anon, I hope this makes up for the eon it took me to do the original):
Betty let out a full body sigh as she watched Archie and Veronica skate around the frozen lake.  Unsteady on her feet, Veronica’s arms windmilled.  The flash of panic was replaced by laughter when Archie caught her around the waist.  They’d been on the ice almost from the moment they’d shown up at Cheryl’s Sweetwater party, while Betty had taken up her lonely vigil at the bonfire.
Tonight was the first time Betty had seen Archie look this radiant.  A pity, really.  Because for the longest time, she thought that it would be her that would bring that look to his face.
“You did a good deed, Coop,” a voice said from behind.
She turned and found Jughead holding out a steaming cup.  Betty took it and wrapped her gloved hands around the cardboard, eager for anything that would ward off the late season chill.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said loftily.  She took a sip of the drink - mocha latte, extra shot.  Of course he’d know what she’d been craving.  Jughead Jones was never one to carelessly offer food.
He rolled his eyes as he settled down onto the log next to her. “You really want to tell me that Reggie’s carburetor mysteriously disappeared, defying reality and quantum physics, a mere ten minutes before he was supposed to pick Veronica up for their date?”
While Jughead was talking, Betty pulled his arm tight around her against the wind.  He’d long since given up trying to convince Betty that the Jones’ did not, quote, snuggle.  (Said conversation had been held in third, fifth, and ninth grade.  Despite it being a well refined argument, Jughead had resigned himself to the fact that Betty (and Veronica and Toni) had dubbed him the human furnace at Archie’s first homecoming game.)
“Must have been a Christmas string-theory miracle.”
He snorted, and Betty felt a small rush of pride in his confidence.  After all, sabotaging Reggie’s carburetor was the only logical thing anyone could accuse her of.  The rest was a mix of cajoling Polly into various coincidental spells to make sure the cold front blew in early enough to freeze the river (and to put a bug into Cheryl’s ear about one last winter blowout before graduation); Betty stealing Archie’s letterman jacket, only to return it with a luck charm sewn in the lining; and to make sure the jalopy worked well enough to make it to Veronica’s without a gasket blowing out.
“You gonna be okay with this?”
Betty glance at Jughead.  “What do you mean?”
“Your long time crush dating your forever best friend.”
She sighed and pulled him closer.  The wind gusted around them and Betty considered whether he’d let her steal his beanie.
“He’ll never look at me that way.  It just took me fifteen years to realize that.”
A sharp whistle caught their attention and they turned to find Sweet Pea and Kevin making smooching noises at them.  Betty gave them a beatific smile as she lifted her hand in a one finger salute.  Sweet Pea cackled.  He threw his arm around Kevin’s shoulder, more than tipsy at this point, and left to harass someone else.
Jughead squeezed her waist, and the movement made her squirm against him.
“You’re a good egg,” he said softly.
They sipped at their quickly cooling drinks while the party swirled around them, content to be alone among the crowd.  As night began to fall, the food truck Cheryl had rented closed up.  The teens began to disperse as girls in thin leggings wrapped themselves in letter jackets, all the while cajoling their dates to get out of the cold.  Veronica and Archie had disappeared long ago, red-faced and glowing, while others talked about a promised Blossom wassail tasting.
The pain Betty had earlier when she realized just how perfect Veronica and Archie were together had subsided to a dull ache.  A reminder that no matter how perfect she tried to be, no matter how relatable, no matter how friendly, she’d never be what Archie wanted.  But sitting next to Jughead, just enjoying the night, it was nothing more than an overstretched muscle.  An unsightly bruise to both her pride and ego.  
“Walk me home?” she asked Jughead when the fire was nothing more than a few embers.
He nodded and stood.  Holding out his hands, he took the empty cups in one and pulled Betty to her feet with the other.  On their way to the trailhead he tossed them in an overly full trashcan and let her lead them towards the dimly light hiking trail.
“Any plans for break?”Jughead asked.
Betty slipped her hands into his coat pocket and wrapped her fingers around his.  He shivered at her cold touch.  
“Just the Cooper traditional Christmas Eve feast followed by four hours at midnight mass.  Then six hours in a car for Christmas brunch with Dad’s family.  You?”
Jughead shrugged his shoulders and Betty felt a catch at her heart.  The last he’d mentioned the Jones’ were trying at being a family again, but history had proven that didn’t mean anything.
“Mary invited me and Arch up to Chicago.  Thought I might take a look at some colleges while we’re there,” he said evenly.  
She squeezed his hand, a silent apology for asking.  He squeezed it back.  Such a simple motion, but one that put her at ease about the next few weeks.
It wasn’t until they reached town that they realized snow had begun to fall around them.  The first natural snow of the season, Betty realized.  One untouched by magic.  It was a sure sign that the holidays were just around the corner.  The one time of the year where Betty was permitted to stay in bed late, curled around a stack of the latest best-sellers; when her parents acted like teenagers, openly flirting while they decorated their house, tipsy on egg nog.  The only time when Polly still wanted to curl up with her in their grandmother’s oversized recliner and gossip; when her father handed her a cup of hot chocolate spiked with Schnapps while they watched Charlie Brown’s poor tree loose all of its needles.
This was her favorite time of year, and she refused to let something as silly as disappointed puppy love, as silly as Archie get her down.
With a laugh, Betty tugged them towards the town square.  Jughead stumbled, but had no trouble catching himself with his long legs.  Halfway to the square she scooped up what snow she could off a parked car and threw it at him, shrieking with delight when he managed to come up with a properly made snowball.  Shoppers taking advantage of the later holiday hours on Main Street shook their heads at such childish exuberance, but even crabby Ms. Crabapple pulled a smile when they ran by.  
Panting, they made their way to Elm Street.  Betty stuck her tongue out and managed to catch a snowflake on her first try.  
“Show off,” Jughead teased.
She winked and slid her arm through his.  One by one, the lights on the houses kicked on.  Puzzled, he stared at the houses.
“Did you do that?”
Betty shook her head.  Magic had nothing to do with this, but even she couldn’t deny the strange sense of wonder the lighted block brought out in her.  She pulled Jughead closer; for once, Betty was happy to have someone decidedly not Archie to experience this with.  (And, perhaps, it wasn’t just any someone so much as it was a particular someone, she was slowly beginning to realize.)
“Must have been some real string-theory holiday magic,” she said with a contented smile.
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Text
There is No Glorious Purpose
DISCLAIMER: This is a Loki Show re-write which means I do not own the original show but some direct quotes will be used, it will not align perfectly with the cannon of the original show, and it will also be written the way I think it should have gone seeing as it was 2012 Loki who just went through Thor 1, Thanos' clutches and Avengers 1.
This is not a Loki/Sylvie or Loki-cest fic.
If you don't like, then please hit that back button and have a nice day. You don't have to agree with me, but I do expect common human decency.
For anyone remaining, please enjoy!
Chapter 1: Blue Time and Space
“Friend, I think there’s been a mistake; I am Loki of Asgard and you will regret this. I am burdened with glorious purpose, I stand at the right hand of Thanos.” The words were bitter in his mouth but then again, so was the bile that he dry-heaved up during his reconditioning.
“Yeah, yeah, come on.” B-15 waved it off, at least the letters on the helmet was the only thing pertaining to the person’s identity after they came through the yellow, rectangular prism. He watched her closely as they neared, fists clenched and fully aware of how far away the Tesseract had ended up. The cerebral recalibration the Hulk so kindly dealt him did nothing to deter him from his secret goal.
“What infinity stone conjured that?”
B-15 stopped, their own subordinates armed but waiting for their leader’s response. Then she laughed.
“No, no, it’s from the TemPad.”
“Pardon?”
“You’ll see soon enough, now, come on, I don’t wanna have to give the whole spiel again.” B-15 came at him. The baton-like weapon she wielded hurt. But he was Asguardian. He also had use of his magic now with the restraints in ruins. Twin daggers parried the baton thereafter. He came close to overwhelming her more than a few times but her subordinates always stepped in.
“Agh!” It was humiliating to be overpowered by not only a simple blow to his back but also to admit it.
B-15 smiled down at him, “let’s go, and reset th-.”
“Don’t touch that!” The soldier picking up the Tesseract and staring at it like a confused child paid him no mind.
“Ok, Variant, let’s go.” B-15 slapped something on his neck, his body involuntarily jumped the opposite way. He was dragged out of the sand and towards another yellow rectangular prism. Another soldier grabbed something that resembled an old Midguardian lantern. They passed behind him and he could not manage to twist his neck enough to watch them. Then yellow.
He involuntarily gasped at the non-consensual setting change, pain flaring in a memory. A shriveled stomach flipped. But… His brows furrowed as he soundlessly analysed himself and his sadir in respect to the surroundings. I can’t feel him… I can’t hear him.
The two soldiers carrying him wasted no time in dragging him across the floor of the large room. It too reminded him of past Midguardian styles…. But he didn’t miss the Tesseract being turned to the man behind the desk.
“Where is this? Where are you taking me?”
B-15 laughed from in front of him, “your trial, Variant.”
“Why, and what is that anyway?”
Next thing he knew, he was pushed into a room with a robot, “hello?” It said something before lasering his clothes off. He gaped in horror as his fine Aguardian leather was destroyed and he was left there in the nude. The robot smiled at him in some sort of sadistic glee as his scars and healing wounds were flaunted like war-torn cadavers against his unusually pale skin. The floor disappeared.
He landed. He folded. He panted.
“Please sign this.”
His head whipped up to the man he could barely see over the stack of paperwork on the desk. A gulp, a deep breath and Loki was the vision of regal honor. Silently, he noted that he had somehow been clothed and thanked whatever power granted him that.
“What is this?”
The man looked at him with an exhausted droll stare, “everything you have ever said.” He grabbed a paper off the printer and laid it on top. Loki nodded slightly, then signed. The world blurred.
“Please step through.”
“Pardon?” The room was slow to come into focus.
“Jotnar, please step through.” Jotnar? He hadn’t noticed his glamour having failed him. The sedir he had so ardently loved and utilized and developed was a small, twisted ball in his center. He was locked in a cage.
“Wha--how…?”
“Magic is no good in the TVA, now please, step through.”
A red-eyed stare remained on the agent as Loki stepped through the unconnected threshold. Nothing happened. Another bout of vertigo and he was being told and none-too-kindly to take a number.
“For what, what is all this?” His blue hands gesticulated some as he addressed the man.
“Take. A. Number.”
Loki grit his teeth but he stepped to the small machine attached to the stakes cordoning off where the line was. He stepped into that small, simple maze. It was another large room stylized after the later American, Midguardian twentieth century. Even scrapers looked better as they drifted in the expanse of space. He slowly meandered up towards the window behind a very loud human.
“My dad is on the board of Goldman Sachs! One call and your whole job is privatized! What even is the ticket for, huh--aaaahhhhhggg!” Said human leapt out of his skin and screamed when he caught sight of the large blue alien. Red eyes merely gazed down at him without much agency.
“Howdy, welcome to the Time Variance Authority,” the bulbous screens lit up and an American, Midguardian southern drawl spoke happily through the speakers. Loki turned his attention to the screens as something finally began explaining things though his entire being made the unanimous decision that he did not like the talking orange clock.
“I'm Miss Minutes, and it's my job to catch you up before you stand trial for your crimes. So let's not waste another minute. Settle in, sharpen your pencils, and check this out. Long ago, there was a vast multiversal war. Countless unique timelines battled each other for supremacy, nearly resulting in the total destruction of...well, everything. But then, the all-knowing Time-Keepers emerged, bringing peace by reorganizing the multiverse into a single timeline, the Sacred Timeline. Now, the Time-Keepers protect and preserve the proper flow of time for everyone and everything. But sometimes, people like you veer off the path the Time-Keepers created. We call those Variants. Maybe you started an uprising, or were just late for work. Whatever it was, stepping off your path created a nexus event, which, left unchecked, could branch off into madness, leading to another multiversal war. But, don't worry, to make sure that doesn't happen, the Time-Keepers created the TVA and all its incredible workers. The TVA has stepped in to fix your mistake and set time back on its predetermined path. Now that your actions have left you without a place on the timeline, you must stand trial for your offenses. So sit tight, and we'll get you in front of a judge in no time. Just make sure you have your ticket, and you'll be seen by the next available attendant. For all time.”
The workers responded to the screen, “always.”
Out of one dark order and into another, Loki thought and forced down rising bile.
“--Hey, I asked for a ticket and he didn’t give me one! I--ahhhh!....” The loud human was hit with the shining, golden end of one of those batons and literally melted into nothingness. Loki clutched the ticket between his fingers tighter.
“Next.”
He stepped up to the window and offered up the small scrap of paper. The next while found him bound in chains yet again. He knew a Midguardian courtroom when he saw one, and the one he was shoved into was more like a morgue.
“Next case, please,” the judge said from her elevated chair, heads above anyone else, but below three ugly “modern art” heads. How could it be that he could even miss Thanos’ disgusting chin?
“Laufeyson. Variant L1130, AKA Loki Laufeyson, is charged with sequence violation 7-20-89. How do you plead?” She continued. Laufeyson, how preposterous, it sparked an itch to kill the Jotnar king again.
“Madam,” he began with all his silver tongue, “a god does not plead.”
“Are you guilty or not guilty, sir?” She was completely unfazed by his appearance, much like her underlings.
He thought for a moment, “guilty of some offense against this Sacred Timeline of yours? Absolutely not. You must have the wrong culprit.”
A brow raised at him, “oh, really? And who should we have?”
“The Avengers, I suspect. I came into possession of the Tesseract because they traveled through time--undoubtedly in some desperate play to avoid my ascent as God Ki--....” He couldn’t feel Thanos anymore, so what was the point? Wasn’t… he… free?
“That’s quite an accusation.”
“The cologne of two Iron Morta--er, Tony Starks is quite difficult to miss. They are your Time Criminals.” He opened his mouth again to bargain; to survive but….
“We’re not here to talk about the Avengers.”
“No?”
“No. That was supposed to happen, you escaping was not.”
“Pardon? According to whom?”
“The Time Keepers.”
“Ah… the three faces behind you, I presume? Do they happen to be open for conference?”
“No, they’re quite busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Dictating the proper flow of time.”
“So then, what do you do, Madam?”
“Dictate the proper flow of time according to their dictations. How do you plead?”
The silver tongue was heavy. His back sent shocks of pain through him especially after the re-injuring the soldiers dealt. Chains often found their way around his wrists and never had it hurt so much as in the last year. He closed his eyes. He may have been able to assemble those Midguardian fools the way he had intended, the time traveling proved that, but what else was left for him? Just more fire, and lies, and deceit. I had so wanted to see Asguard again.
“The court finds you guilty, and I sentence you to be reset. Next case, please!”
“I raise an objection!” Loki opened his eyes at the interruption as the judge sighs.
“You may approach the bench.”
“Hey, there, blue-raspberry.” The older human man made a shy sort of wave motion at Loki as he passed with a folder under his arm.
“If you're thinking what I think you are, it's a bad idea,” the judge addressed the man.
“Okay, I'm just chasing a hunch.”
“Anything goes sideways, it's on you.”
“Okay. I feel like I'm always looking up to you. I like it. It's appropriate.” Loki knew when he was witnessing groveling. Norns knew he had to do it enough times in his life just to save his brother’s skin.
“Who are you?” He asked after the judge permitted Loki’s custody to the newcomer. Said agent was walking Loki around some halls. Vertigo viscously hit when he tried to remember every twist and turn.
“Oh, I’m Agent Mobius, by the way,” Mobius cheerily said as he shuffled the two into an elevator.
“And you’re not taking me someplace to ‘reset’ me?”
“No, no, no, that was the place you just were. Ravon--I mean Judge Renslayer can be pretty brutal, but I’m just taking you some place to talk.”
“To talk?” His brow raised.
Mobius looked up at his blue stature without a care in the world, “yeah, and we know you love to talk. Talkie-talkie.” A hand mimed a moving mouth. His brows lowered into a slight scowl.
“We seem to have different understandings of my persons.”
“Well, I am an expert on Lokis.”
“... Loki-s?”
“Yeah. You’ll catch up.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Hard to tell, time moves differently here in the TVA.”
He was led out again and followed the human past several large openings in the wall of the narrow hallway that lead down into double-doored rooms. One, he couldn’t help but step towards. Then found himself outside of the elevator again.
“Ope, can’t do that, sorry.”
He stared at Mobius who was now several yards away, “magic and time works differently here.”
“Oh, it’s not magic,” Mobius held up a small device in his fingers, “it’s science.”
“Magic is science.” Loki stated plainly as he walked towards what he assumed Mobius was indicating as the destination, back straight.
“Haha, ok, Loki.” The agent opened the door for him. He nodded in thanks as was polite.
“Let’s get you comfortable,” Mobius stripped him of his chains and cuffs, “have a seat.”
Slowly, he did as asked. He could have wept as his back was finally rested.
“Not big on trust, are you?” Mobius asked as he snapped a sodapop can open. He rejected a second that was offered to him by the agent.
“Well?”
“Trust is a twisted road.”
“Haha, nice one, let’s make that one into a button.” Mobius began fiddling with a machine on the table they sat at in the middle of the darkened room.
“If the TVA overseas all of time and space, then how have I never heard of you before?”
“‘Cause you never needed to. You’ve always lived within your set path; the story you’re meant to play a part in.”
“I live within the path and story of my choosing,” Loki responded bitterly on impulse.
Mobius laughed again, “well, there’s the lie, Loki, it’s not your story.” Mobius looked him in the eye as the machine projected an image onto the blank wall.
“So I think we could start with a little cooperation, hm? I specialize in the pursuit of dangerous variants--particularly dangerous ones unlike you. I’ve got some questions for you, and if you answer them honestly, then maybe I can give you something you want. You wanna get outta here right? So, we’ll start there. Should you get out, what will you do?”
Would Thanos know? Of course Thanos would know…. Of course Thanos would come after him for deserting….
“Take over Midguard, AKA Earth?” Mobius interrupted the silence, “finish what you started maybe? Be king?”
The simple answer slipped off his tongue, “I was born to be a king.”
“Happily ever after then? A nice feather in your cap?”
“Then the Nine Realms. Then all of space.”
“Ooooh, ‘Loki, King of Space,’ haven’t heard that one before.”
“Mock me if you dare.”
Mobius chuckled again, “I’m not. Honestly, I’m a fan; your biggest. I guess I’m just curious why someone with such range would settle for just ruling whether it be Presidential or Kingly.”
“... The first and most oppressive lie was that of freedom, and someone will always be above while masses lie below.”
“How does that one go?” Mobius had his nose in his paperwork.
“For nearly every living thing, choice breeds shame and uncertainty and regret. There's a fork in every road, yet the wrong path always taken.”
“Good. Yeah. You said ‘nearly every living thing,’ so I'm guessing you don't fall into that category?”
“All of us fall into some category.”
“Oh, riddles. Love that. Anyway, a sampling of your greatest hits.”
The machine whirled and he was met again with the annoying Midguardian heroes and his brother after they bested him in New York, “if it’s all the same to you… I’ll have that drink now.”
“That just happened,” he declared.
“It's funny, for someone born to rule, you sure do lose a lot. You might even say it's in your nature.”
“The last person who said that to me did not live long enough to regret it.”
“Phil Coulson?” The clip played and Thor’s “no!” rang out.
“Didn’t the Avengers come together to literally avenge him by defeating you?”
Loki kept his face schooled diplomatically blank against the small bit of triumph he felt rising. Yes, they had come together, a force to be reckoned with especially after Loki’s clever engineering of their test-run.
“Little solace for a dead man,” he said instead.
“Do you enjoy hurting people? Making them feel small? Making them feel afraid? Making them feel little?” Mobius looked at him with an expression all too familiar from a certain one-eyed Aesir.
“Your little games won’t work on me.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I think--.”
“I know what I am.”
“A murderer?”
“A liberator.” The memory of the Other’s lightning bolt sent a shock wave through his system. He was removed from them, but he could always be put back.
“Of eyeballs maybe,” Mobius scoffed and played the clip.
“Just look at that smile, you’re enjoying it.”
Yet another clip rolled and a wealthy crowd’s screams of horror rang out. He was the center of attention. No one in that moment had attention above him… but that blue still glinted in his emerald eyes.
“Did you enjoy hurting them?”
“I don’t have to play this game; I’m a god, you dull creature.”
“Of mischief? Right… I really see that shining through.”
“No, I don’t suppose you would.”
Mobius sighed, “let’s talk about your escapes.”
“You're really good at doing awful things, and then just getting away. This is one of my favorites.”
A plane’s PA system from the 1970’s dinged, “from the flight deck, Captain William A. Scott, Northwest Orient Airlines 305, on schedule to land in Seattle. Flight time today, approximately….”
The projection showed him from an outsider’s perspective on a plane, well dressed with his hair slicked back and shades covering his eyes. His past self spoke to the flight attendant.
“Bourbon and soda?”
“Thank you,” past Loki gladly accepted the drink.
“Absolutely. Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”
“I suppose we'll find out, won't we?” A note was handed off to her and she chuckled only in social politeness. A clear misunderstanding between them.
“Uh, Miss?”
“Yes, Mr. Cooper?”
“You might want to take a look at that note,” past Loki leaned forward and whispered, looking the woman in the eye over his sunglasses, “I have a bomb.” Her smile dropped. The scene skipped to when he had emptied the plane of all other passengers and was back in the air strapping a parachute to himself.
“Oh, this is the good part,” Mobius whispered.
“See you again someday,” past Loki says, still politely as he accepts the bag of $200,00 USD from the unnerved flight attendant. He had often wondered how she had recovered from the stupid, oafish ploy; he did his best not to harm anyone but he understood how it could have been quite the scare.
Past Loki turned and walked toward the tail of the plane, “brother, Heimdall, you better be ready.” He mumbleed before jumping out and getting collected by the Bifrost.
“I can't believe you were D.B. Cooper. Come on!” Mobius moved in his seat in a way reminiscent of an excited toddler.
“I was young, and I lost a bet to Thor. Where was the TVA when I was meddling with these affairs of men?”
“We were right there with you, just surfing that Sacred Timeline. So anyway, escapes… and a little psychobabble. What is it you think you’re really running from?”
He held Mobius’ stare. Time Keeper’s approval or lackthereof seemed utterly arbitrary, and the agent’s “fan-ing” of him lacking.
“Enough of this nonsense--.” Loki moved to stand but was hit yet again by vertigo and back in the chair.
“Back in your cage. See? I can play the heavy keys too.” Mobius tapped a finger on his own neck.
“What is it that you actually want?”
“I want you to be honest about why you do what you do.”
“This,” Loki motioned a blue arm towards the projection, “means you have seen my life, yes?”
“Yup. Back and forward, and variant and not. I’ve seen it all.”
“Then you must already know.”
“All I seek is a deeper understanding of the fearsome God of Mischief. What makes Loki tick?”
“Yet you have seen my life and all variations of it.”
“I wanna hear it from the ol’ horse’s mouth.”
“The satisfaction of my own ends,” he finally settled. “Is this your psychobabble? You, the great arbiters of power in the universe.”
Mobius nodded, “yup, we are!”
“Yet my path, my story and my actions are not my own? A semblance of free will belongs to every creature.”
“Hahaha, good one buddy. Look, this one’ll fire you up.” Loki stamped out the pain he had only otherwise felt when he was dropped from the Rainbow Bridge. He stamped down it all. And oh, it was easy. Simple. It was his simpler state of being.
The projection changed to Stuttgart and the projection-surrounded square of kneeling people, “the bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power….”
“Precisely. I was... I am on the verge of acquiring everything I am owed, and when I do, it will be because I did it. Not because it was supposed to happen. Or because you or the Time Variance Authority permitted me to. Honestly, you are pathetic. You are an irrelevance. A detour. A footnote to my ascent.”
Mobius giggled and scoffed, “you done? You’re gonna start taking things seriously.”
His body tensed. But all that happened was a twist of a wrist and the projection changing. He was faced with himself, bound and chained in Asguardian restraints with his glamor intact and cheekily knocking his ankles together to fill the hall of the All Father with the ringing of the metal clanging together.
“If you hadn't picked up the Tesseract, you would have been taken to a cell on Asgard.” Mobius informed him.
“Loki,” a familiar honey voice said in the ringing silence.
This future Loki addressed the woman in beautiful clothes, “hello, Mother. Have I made you proud?”
Her face stayed grave as he continued with undetected fake cheerfulness, “please, don't make this worse.”
“This is the future?” Loki asked.
“Yup, like you mighta picked up, the TVA doesn’t just know your past, we know your whole life as it’s meant to be. Think of it as comforting.” Loki grimaced at that. Comfort? He did not know such a thing. The scene skipped and he recognised the dungeons.
“And am I not your mother?” A projection of his mother asked.
Future Loki chuckled bitterly, “no, you’re not.” Loki felt the need to claw off the blue skin.
“Hmm,” his mother responded, “always so perceptive to everyone but yourself.”
“And then the Dark Elves attack the palace, and you think you send them to Thor.” Mobius chimed again.
“You might wanna take the stairs to the left.” Future Loki says as most other prisoners are set free.
“But instead, you send them….” The image skips again and it’s to Frigga in the grasp of the hellish looking Dark Elf.
“I will never tell.” She declares before she is brutally stabbed and fades. Loki jumps up but only goes through the projection. He can’t help her. No, no, no, no. Another tick. Just another trick like all those in the last year! He would never do such a thing. He loved her.
“You lead them right to her.”
But why would he do that? He was spiteful but-.... No, the elf. Think, Loki, think! Ah, yes, the Aether must have been helping them and changed them to that form. But why Asgard? Why Frigga?!
“You’re lying,” he pants, “what led to this!? Where is she!? Do you have her?!”
“It is true. That's the proper flow of time, and it happens again and again and again because it's supposed to, because it has to! The TVA makes sure of it. And you did this to your own mother, Loki! What kind of monster does that?”
“I’m not a monster!” He shrieks, voice cracking. A chair slams into the wall. He does his best to compose himself but his breathing and heart rates are all still erratic.
“What led to this?” He motioned to the agent then the world blurs to the projected image of her dead face. Fresh pain spikes his back.
“Oops, sorry, only loops you, not the furniture. Now, why don’t you tell me, do you enjoy hurting people? Do you enjoy killing? Were you about to kill me like you killed your mother?”
He fixed red eyes on the blond nuisance, “I wouldn’t hurt her!” The stinging tears obstruct his vision, but he’s too prideful to wipe his eyes--or the society he had been raised by was.
The human met his hateful gaze, “you weren't born to be king, Loki. You were born to cause pain and suffering and death. That's how it is, that's how it was, that's how it will be. All so that others can achieve their best versions of themselves.”
Loki’s grimace was translated through his conflicted heart into an almost silent sobbing scream. A chitauri screeched as the projection showed the Midguardian protection force he had pissed off enough to coalesce.
But he wouldn’t do that to her… he wouldn’t… he couldn’t….
“What are you doing?” Loki barely registers the voice as B-15.
“My job. Is it yours to interrupt?” Mobius responds as Loki is still frozen staring at the wall, not even seeing the projection anymore.
“We have a situation.”
“Gah, there's always a situation. Don't go anywhere. And it was just getting good. Spirited!”
The doors closed.
Mother, I need to find her!
Escaping the room was easier than expected and the maze did nothing to deter his frantic heart.
“Hey,” he ducked down behind the desk the agent from earlier was manning.
“Hey, I know you. You’re the criminal with the blue box.”
“Shh,” he dragged the other down, “what’s your name?”
“Casey.”
“Give me the Tesseract back or I’ll gut you like a fish, Casey.”
“What’s a fish?”
“H-how do you not know what a fish is?”
“I’ve lived my entire life behind a desk, and I’d like to know what I’m being threatened with before I comply.”
“Do you not eat--death, Casey, violent and painful death.”
“Okay, okay, I comply, I comply, jeez.”
Casey leaned forward and pulled open a drawer of a moveable table, “this it?”
“Wha… Infinity Stones?” The stones, mostly green Time and red Aether or Reality, were jumbled together in the small space.
“Oh, actually, we get a lot of those. Yeah, some of the guys use them as paper weights.”
“The greatest power in the universe and you have them carelessly thrown about?”
“Well, we actually are outside of the universe AKA the Sacred Timeline. Pretty neat, right?” Casey’s musings as he stood up and presented another bulbous screen hanging from the ceiling were ignored as Loki closed his blue hand around the Tesseract. It was dim. So, so dim and dull and…. Lifeless. His jaw hung open.
An elevator dinged, “oh, you almost hit me, that’s so messed up!” Loki clicked the button and returned to the small room. Slowly, he pulled himself off of the floor, set the Tesseract down on the table and twisted the dial.
“Your birthright was to die!...” Future Odin gave future bound Loki a sadistic smile, “as a child, cast out into a frozen rock. If I had not taken you in, you would not be here now to hate me.”
“If I had not fully asked for true mercy, I’d just say swing it. It’s not that I don’t love our little talks, it’s just, I don’t love them.” He found himself muttering along with his near-future self.
“Frigga is the only reason you are still alive and you will never see her again. You will spend the rest of your years in the dungeon.” He moved back with his shackled projection. That was too far, even for Odin. A flash of a red cape and eyepatched face looking down and telling him “no” passed in front of his eyes. His finger rolled on the dial.
“I love you, my sons. Remember this place. Home….” Future Odin told both Thor and him as he disappeared into energy from the cliff Loki was fairly sure belonged to Midguard. A breath caught. What… how… could it be?
It skipped forward again, “Loki, I thought the world of you, I thought we were going to fight side by side forever.” Future Thor with shorn hair and different clothes regarded future Loki--actually regarded him. Had he died? What sort of trickery could this be? He gulped around the hope in his throat.
“Maybe you're not so bad after all, brother. Maybe not…. Thank you. If you were here, I might even give you a hug.” An eyepatched Thor smiled at his future, blue leather clad self as a glass liquor stopper was thrown.
His future self caught it, “I’m here.” He smiled at the sight, that’s all I ever wanted… to be your equal, brother. He sniffled.
His life skipped forward again, “undying? You should choose your words more carefully.” Blue features immediately smoothed out and drooped in horror at the site of the purple titan. A golden gauntlet endued with infinity stones closed around his neck. His future self writhed in the air.
“You will… never… be a… god!” He flinched at the cracking of his own neck, his future self’s body falling limp instantly. No! He wouldn’t let himself die to him! He watched helplessly as his future self’s body was dropped while Thor screamed. The power stone’s magic broke up the spaceship as Thor wept over him. Purple enveloped the screen and then “END FILE.”
“Hah… hah… hah… hehehehe,” his lungs spasmed.
“Glorious purpose,” Loki sneered to no one. He collapsed gripping the Tesseract.
“Loki?... Nowhere left to run.”
“I know. Will you be ‘resetting’ or otherwise doing away with me now?” He stared into the dull blue depths of the Space Stone’s container rather than bothering to look up at the human. There wasn’t an answer.
“I am tired, Mobius.”
Knees popped as the other slowly knelt by him, “listen, I can’t offer you salvation, but maybe I can offer you something better. A fugitive Variant’s been killing our minutemen.”
“So why me?”
“The Variant we’re hunting is, well, you.”
He lifted his head, “pardon?”
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crowdvscritic · 3 years
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round up // AUGUST 21
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Happy 2nd birthday to these Round Ups! For two years I’ve been making monthly pop culture picks, and they’ve included:
More than 200 movies
32 TV shows and specials, plus 8 different Saturday Night Live Round Ups
27 albums, singles, playlists, and more music picks
13 podcasts
12 books
2 concerts
There have also been articles, events, museums, social media bits, trailers, and a service that helps you find movies across streaming platforms. (Find all of them here.) This month I’m adding a few more, like: 
2 podcasts
2 albums
5 vampire movies
A conversation between two GOATs
A very funny dead guy
A terrifying Robert Mitchum performance
Another Dumb Rom-Com I Nevertheless Enjoyed
Here’s to another year!
August Crowd-Pleasers
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1. Jungle Cruise (2021)
Indiana Jones meets Pirates of the Caribbean with a dash of The African Queen. I like all those movies, so sue me, I had a nice time! Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7/10
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2. Deep Blue Sea (1999)
Genetically-enhanced sharks try to break free of their cages in an ocean research facility, chaos ensues for the characters, and it’s a delight for us. For no intelligent reason, I love movies that make me guess who’s going to get killed off next, so a big dumb shark movie starring L.L. Cool J and Samuel L. Jackson? It’s a particular brand of joy. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 5.5/10
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3. Double Feature — Adam Sandler Comedies: 50 First Dates (2004) + Murder Mystery (2019)
Adam Sandler movies are little like IcyHot for the brain—that is, they’re the relaxing kind of mind-numbing. Thanks to a stressful month at work, I watched six Sandler flicks in August—which I don’t necessarily recommend but also don’t regret—and the Netflix original Murder Mystery (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7/10) was one of the the best of the bunch. It’s a silly spoof of Agatha Christie’s work, and it’s a scenic two-hour European vacay. I also gave 50 First Dates (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7/10) another try and was pleasantly surprised. Once you get past some of the gross-out humor at the beginning, you’ll find a sweet story all about how we need to keep showing up for the people we love.
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4. Double Feature — SNL Comedies: Wayne’s World (1992) + Hot Rod (2007)
My love for Saturday Night Live is more than well-documented, so exactly zero mes were surprised that I loved these flicks from its alums. Wayne’s World (Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 7/10) follows up with Wayne and Garth in the basement we first saw on late night. Now they have the opportunity to make it big on TV thanks to a sleazy exec (Rob Lowe). Brian Doyle-Murray and Chris Farley show up, and so do Laverne and Shirley? Hot Rod (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 6.5/10) follows Rod (Andy Samberg) as he tries to make it big as a stuntman and impress his stepdad (Ian McShane). Will Arnett, Bill Hader, and Chris Parnell show up, and now I can mostly forgive all those boys in high school who quoted this movie non-stop.
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5. Weekend at Bernie’s (1989)
If those SNL comedies weren’t enough silliness for you, how about you add some Bernie to your lineup? Andrew McCarthy and Jonathan Silverman are wannabe-yuppies who think they’ve got their  career breaks when an exec named Bernie invites them to his vacation home for the weekend. What they don’t know is that Bernie (Terry Kiser) has been laundering money, is connected to the mob, and, is now, um, dead. The right thing would be to call the police, but then we wouldn’t have a 97-minute high-concept comedy, now would we? Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 7/10
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6. Twilight series (2008-12)
I mostly skipped the Twilight phenomenon at its peak, but I’m so glad I hopped on the train years later—this series of vampire vs. werewolf showdowns are ridiculous.  But major kudos to the filmmakers who somehow turned a dump truck of nonsensical gobbledygook and unhealthy teenage relationships into something insanely watchable. Also, major kudos to Billy Burke and his understated, curmudgeonly, sarcastic performance. Bella’s dad is the MVP with the only appropriate responses to all of the nonsense he's forced to participate in and the only tether this franchise has to reality. Be sure to watch with a friend so you have someone else to process this weirdness with. Series Crowd: 8/10 // Series Critic: 5/10
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7. Seven Brides for Seven Brothers at The Muny
You know what’s great? Live theater! This month I made my first trip back to the stage at America’s oldest and largest outdoor amphitheater, the Muny in St. Louis. Their productions never disappoint, and these performers reminded me of Howard Keel, Jane Powell, and Russ Tamblyn in the best ways. 
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8. Wimbledon (2004)
Paul Bettany and Kirsten fall in love at Wimbledon! Frankly, that premise alone should be enough to sell you on this very winning rom-com. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7.5/10
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9. Career Opportunities (1991)
This month’s Dumb Rom-Com I Nevertheless Enjoyed! Frank Whaley and Jennifer Connelly fall in love while stuck overnight at a Target—which honestly sounds like a dream scenario—and since it’s a John Hughes script, it’s got some heart beneath its thin premise. John Hughes directing would’ve made it better, but there’s enough Hughes in there to catch my heart. Crowd: 7/10 // Critic: 4.5/10
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10. First Blood (1982)
Aka Rambo: Part I. Sylvester Stallone is a tough-as-nails Vietnam vet, and Brian Dennehy is the self-righteous sheriff who ticks him off. It digs a bit into PTSD and how we don’t take care of our veterans, but mostly, it’s just Stallone going ape with a knife and explosives. Oddly, also from the same director as Weekend at Bernie’s! Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7/10
August Critic Picks
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1. TCM’s The Plot Thickens Season 2 (2021)
You know those movies that make you ask, “How on Earth did this get made?” This season of The Plot Thickens, subtitled The Devil’s Candy, is an attempt to answer that question. Pretty much no one thinks 1990’s The Bonfire of the Vanities works as a film—including yours truly—and reporter Julie Salomon documented many of its production troubles leading to the final product. A must-listen for anyone who loves hearing behind-the-scenes stories or just gets a kick out of schadenfreude. 
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2. Gene and Roger (2021)
Gene and Roger, the summer series on The Big Picture podcast, is an overview and reflection on the work of Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert, starting with the launch of their individual careers in the ‘60s through their partnership that lasted into the ‘90s. Another must-listen for movie lovers, especially those who love digging into the history and criticism.
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3. Gold-Diggers Sound by Leon Bridges (2021)
Chill vibes and cool groves to transition you from Summer to Autumn.
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4. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966)
Come for the Clint Eastwood, stay for the Ennio Morricone. Actually you can stay for Eastwood, too, because his humor is at his driest, and for Eli Wallach, whose Tuco is an insanely charming cockroach. It’s almost three hours, but this treasure hunt breezes by like a tumbleweed in the wind. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 9/10
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5. AFI’s Master Class - The Art of Collaboration: Steven Spielberg and John Williams (2011)
Two GOATS talking about making some of the GOATs. They share clips and explain their collaborative process (including on projects like Jaws and Schindler’s List), and they take questions from film students at AFI. I’m only wishing it were 10 hours instead of 1!
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6. The Night of the Hunter (1955)
Robert Mitchum’s terrifying preacher elevates this classic into more than just a standard crime thriller. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 8.5/10
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7. Respect (2021)
While a few scenes indulge in melodrama, Jennifer Hudson’s killer performance—both in vocals and character work—more than makes up for it. This Aretha Franklin biopic hits the familiar beats, but it makes you feel like you’re in the room listening to Franklin sing , which is really all you want from a movie like this. Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 8/10
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8. Solar Power by Lorde (2021)
At first listen, this minimalist pop record sounds worlds away from the angst of Pure Heroine and the melodrama of Melodrama. At second listen, you realize it’s the Lorde you know and love, just with a Laurel Canyon influence. Carole King even gets a shout!
Also in August…
This month Kyla and I checked out Loveline, a call-in radio show popular during the run of Gilmore Girls.  Should our favorite Yale students give up dating OR call into the syndicated radio show Loveline? Should Dr. Drew Pinsky and Adam Carolla give strangers advice OR make fun of them? Oh, and Germany OR Florida? Listen to ep. 107 of SO IT’S A SHOW?
The '40s are coming! Reviews of 1940s Best Picture winners are on their way, and I kicked it off with an overview of the Academy that decade focusing on how they responded to World War II and their new prestigious reputation.
Photo credits: The Muny, The Plot Thickens, Gene and Roger, Leon Bridges, AFI, Lorde. All others IMDb.com.
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todorokitops · 4 years
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Izuku, Shouto, Eijirou and Katsuki as co-parenting dads
Long story short, a very long headcanon list for the OT4 as parents. No Quirks AU!
As requested by @incorrect-mha-bnha, supported by @shipbuildingaddict, and prompted by people replying to the original post with “I want them to adopt me” (and honestly same), here’s what I think the bois would be like if they were all adults co-parenting their kids together.
Enjoy! :D
Izuku (dad)
this bitch will buy poetry books by the bulk and analyse them whenever he can (he teaches literature, after all), even when they make him cry - Katsuki once asked him why he even reads this shit if he just suffers for it, and Izuku just thrusted the book at him with the page open on the gorgeous, moving poem, and after that, the blond didn’t ask again (he may have torn up when Izuku wasn’t looking, but he’ll never tell)
wears reading glasses while reading the newspaper and books - if there’s loud noises, he’ll impulsively lift the page closer to his face and mumble the words aloud to keep track of where he’s at in the story - the kids used to think he was doing it passive-aggressively when they played while laughing, but soon realised he’s just like that - he also starts reading aloud when the book gets exciting (Shouto loves that about him, thinks it’s adorable and always waits for him to stop mumbling - meaning the tense scene is over - before talking to him, because he doesn’t want to interrupt) - also used to read bedtime stories to the kids when they were little, putting on funny voices for each character (Katsuki heard him one time and nearly laughed himself to death in the entranceway as his husband hid behind the book in embarrassment)
still reads comics from time to time - even has a whole glass cabinet devoted to all his collections, but a child-proof lock had to be put into place after that time the kids got into it and tore out a page from one of his graphic novels with an inspiring quote from one of the characters to pin on the board in their bedroom (they’d been learning how to cut out pics from magazines for collages at school) - he’d almost cried seeing all the pieces of the comic on the floor of his study and two excited-looking children looking up at him, but luckily, Eijirou walked in just in time and pushed him out so the kids wouldn’t worry and he could clean up the mess - the next week would promise Eijirou’s replacement of the comic, and somehow, the mangaka’s signature too, which actually made Izuku cry (as predicted by the entire family, really)
guilty of telling the kids white lies (which Shouto disapproves of but lets slide) to get them to fall asleep on time, or eat their vegetables etc - things like making up characters who will reward them for doing something good, and later actually providing the reward himself without letting them know - it will eventually backfire on him, but for now he’s fine chilling in the grave he’s dug himself into
the grocery shopper - often Katsuki makes the shopping list and Izuku goes ahead to buy the things, but sometimes Katsuki comes along as well - this is mainly because whenever he went grocery shopping alone with the kids, he usually came back with a tub of ice cream and several candy bars because he caved in to the pressure of their cute puppy dog eyes - luckily, Katsuki is better at saying no, even to the lip quiver that they pull out as a last resort
gives great advice, actually - the kids aren’t afraid to come to him with their problems, and he tries his best to help them out when he can - they love to tell him when things work out after following his advice because his eyes just light up with relief and happiness
dad jokes whenever he can do them - Katsuki and the kids hate it, but Eijirou actually finds them entertaining - Katsuki tells the redhead not to encourage this behaviour, but despite their efforts, the dad jokes go on for several years
Shouto (father)
silent, calming presence most of the time, although his kids still don’t understand why he looks so resentful when they ask him about their grandparents, or how he got his scar - he says he’ll tell them someday when they’re older, because he doesn’t want to lie, so the kids eventually decide to leave it alone, trusting he’ll do just that
for some reason, the kids like to come to him for attention when they’re stressed, probably because he used to run his fingers through their hair without thinking as they fell asleep in his lap when they were little - he doesn’t quite understand it, but they do seem to calm down when he does it now, so he just obliges, smiling softly as their breathing grows more regular as he strokes their hair
patient in helping them with homework and never scolds them for not knowing something, instead encouraging curiosity and every urge they have to ask questions they themselves may deem stupid, because he doesn’t think they are - Izuku encourages their self-care as they get older so they don’t burn out, and he agrees by reminding them they’re entitled to have a break when they need it
the dad who picks the kids up when they call him from a sleepover they’re uncomfortable at - he’s always got his phone on him in case of emergencies, and often gets to the place in record time to whisk them away instantly, and take them out for a treat to make them feel better, before then returning home - they appreciate this about him, although they often have to tug him away when he confronts the parent of the household where they’d been made uncomfortable, as he also gets relatively defensive of his kids’ safety
actually starts making a few dad jokes of his own after hearing so many of Izuku’s - the first time he’d done it, it had been so subtle and deadpan that Eijirou hadn’t heard, but Katsuki looked at him in horror and the kids groaned - Izuku was excited to have a fellow dad-pun-inflicter in the household though
the dad that wears matching pyjama tops and bottoms to bed, with his initials on the front pocket because why not - Katsuki makes fun of it all the time tbh and tells him he looks like Ebenezer Scrooge or something
big snacker, and thus is always found in the kitchen around 2am, searching for something in the fridge or cabinets to nibble on quietly - sometimes one of the kids can’t sleep either and find him there, so he just holds back a snicker and makes them both a bowl of cereal - they sit across the kitchen island from each other as they feast like kings and talk about random stuff together under the dim light hanging above the table
Eijirou (pops)
mows the lawn shirtless and is completely oblivious to all the flirting he receives from people who pass by, seeing him sweat it out as he cheerfully waves back - he always thinks they want to know his workout routine to better themselves and he’s happy to help - until a shadow looms from behind him and the people’s eyes widen before running away quickly, and Eijirou turns around confusedly to see a pissed-off Katsuki - no matter how much the blond tells him, he refuses to believe they’re trying to pick him up, because he’s just, you know, him - and Katsuki literally has to pull him into the house, the lawn only half-done, to show him exactly how special he is
beyond supportive of his kids trying new, healthy hobbies - if they talk about wanting to try football or rollerblading or ice skating etc, he’ll go the extra mile and try that something new with them, holding their hand and giving them space wherever it’s needed - after all, it’s great exercise and he loves picking up new skills outside
the dad who literally will go out no matter the weather and Izuku has to stop him sometimes when it’s just too damn cold - meanwhile, Shouto will rush to grab him extra scarves and warm gloves and zip up his hoodie for him, looking him over a few times before finally deeming him dressed suitably enough to go out and tackle the weather, since he’s so determined
helps the kids eat healthy snacks and drink milk or juices - as they get older, this slowly turns into protein shakes, which only one of the kids seems to genuinely enjoy, while the others do everything in their power to leave the house before he can give them their morning shake - as for his husbands, well, Izuku likes them (but his eye twitches as he puts a thumbs up), Shouto straight up rejects them, and Katsuki chugs down the whole thing in three seconds and says they’re all weak
gives the best hugs out of all the dads - often gets tackled by one of the kids into a hug, and he picks them up and swings them around gleefully as they squeal - as they grow older, they still come to him for hugs if they’re worried about something, and he makes sure to read the mood before choosing to either ask them what’s wrong or leave it be as he just hugs them tightly to let them know silently that they’ve always got him in their corner if they choose to talk
Katsuki (daddy papa)
extremely protective of his kids - if he sees someone picking on them, he’s not the type to let it go and always seeks justice - Izuku’s usually the one who tells him to make sure he has the facts straight before going to the teachers, and hearing out his kid’s explanation before doing anything rash - also the type to lightly threaten whoever his kids may be dating (if they are romantically attracted to anyone) into treating them right
braids his kids’ hair - they often come up to him before school and ask him to do it, and he puts down his coffee mug before asking them which kind they want - after that, he quickly and effortlessly completes the braid and makes sure they’re satisfied with it before they leave - one time after a voluntary haircut, one of them had cried because they realised they wouldn’t be able to have braids in their hair until it grew out again - in response, Shouto got his hair cut short in solidarity too, kissing the top of their head and telling them they’d both go through the process together - Katsuki almost damn near cried when he saw them, to be honest
do not talk to him before he’s had his morning coffee because he will snap - Eijirou makes it for him sometimes when he wakes up late and needs one instantly, and Izuku only makes it for him when he’s about to ask him for a really big favour - Katsuki knows by now to expect something to be asked of him when the green-haired man is the one to hand him his hot coffee, smiling wide
unironically enjoys word jumbles and crosswords and used to fight with Izuku over the morning paper - then one day, Shouto bought him a book of crosswords and word jumbles and he instantly grew obsessed with that instead and Izuku was left in peace, sighing in relief - the kids come to him when they have a question related to vocabulary, or anything to do with essay-writing
actually speaks several languages as a result of his job, so sometimes he’ll swear in a random language on impulse, and the kids will pick it up (Izuku is just about ready to snap at this point) - other times, this means someone from work will call his phone and he’ll switch to french or german as he leaves the table, and the kids all think it’s super cool - he teaches them slowly, using short phrases that they eventually grow to recognise easily - he’ll never forget the first time one of them had actually came back from school after talking to a foreign friend and attempted to start a conversation with him in that language - they’d gotten flustered a lot but he was hella proud of them for doing it in the first place
the main cook - although Shouto sometimes makes breakfast, and Eijirou and Izuku are decent at making meals, he dominates the kitchen for the most part, often ending up ordering the others around if they try and help him out (but sometimes, Shouto will slink in to have a sneak taste of the meal and Katsuki will give in to his cute husband, pushing a spoonful of the curry into his mouth to sample, which 10/10 times he loves) - when it comes to packed lunches for school, he’s very intricate with the bentos and even went to attend a class to teach him how to make his own better - the thing is, he’s not great at telling his kids outright that he loves them sometimes, but he hopes that through the cutesy bentos he hands them every morning, they’ll get the message that he cares about them a lot
Annnnd yup, that’s it for now! I... may have more headcanons tucked away in my head but I’ll leave those for another time. I hope these have sufficed for now :D thanks for reading!
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rosaetae · 4 years
Text
among the evergreen
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☇ “The day you will see two of me is the same day you won't need me unless you say you do”
➣  pairing: reader x jungkook
➣  genre:  christmas themed, modernfantasy!au, e2l!au, fluff
➣  word count: 12.6k
➣  disclaimer:  this is literally an exaggerated satire of Hallmark Christmas movies filled with eggnog crack for the holiday spirit. please do not take this seriously. happy holidays! 
➣  summary: the odd christmas wedding with the odd christmas runaway with the odd christmas adventure with the odd christmas stranger
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"You can't be serious right now, ___."
"Hyunjung, I've never been more serious in my entire life." Grabbing a chunk of clothes from your closet that ranged from sweaters to leggings, you shove it into your duffel bag. "This version my parents made of me?— I'm not her. They seriously think they're going to discipline me by selling me off to a man I don't know?"
"Oh, don't be dramatic. They're not selling you off, they just arranged a marriage for you."
You open your mouth, gaping at her. "Even worst! Where's my consent? Where's my sense of individualism?! I'm an adult and yet, they're giving me away to a random person they arranged a marriage with just last year!"
"And may I remind you that you're getting married to that random person in two weeks, ___. Perfect for a Christmas wedding," Hyunjung optimistically exclaims over the FaceTime call, removing her towel that was wrapped around her head and combing her hair with her fingers. "I don't think you should be leaving."
You cringe at her romanticizing an arranged marriage that takes away your sense of freedom.
"No, Hyunjung," you point your lotion bottle in your hand at her. "The version that my parents fabricated of me— she. She's the one getting married in two weeks. I, however, am taking a trip to Europe."
"Europe?" She repeats, nearly gaping at the sound of that. "That's why you need me to drop you off at the airport? Europe? Are you joking me?"
You nearly snort, folding one of your t-shirts messily and tossing it into the duffel. "You thought I was joking when I took that trip to Greece by myself. Does it look like I'm joking?"
"Insane. You're absolutely insane."
"I hope you say that in a good way," you throw a wink at her.
"You cannot be serious."
"And why not? I'm my own adult! I can go to another country myself. Plus, you remember Hana, right? She offered a place for me to stay in London."  
Hyunjung raises her eyebrows. "And you're sure Hana is going to let you into her humble abode and take you in?"
"98% sure," you pause for a moment, continuing on to your last minute packing of shoving whatever you could into a duffel. "The 2% is only if I actually get there before she leaves for Amsterdam."
"Wait, what?"
"I should be getting there before Tuesday night, hopefully. If not, then I'm stuck to tend to a motel for a couple of nights until she comes back from finishing that research project in Amsterdam," you snort. "Which will be unlikely. I scheduled a plane for Italy that leaves tonight. From there, I have to take a bus to Belgium to take a ferry to London, so essentially I should be there before Monday."
"Why not take a straight plane to London?" Hyunjung inquires, evidently confused to your excessive and over-the-top plan.
"Where's the fun in that?" You chuckle, grabbing your backpack. "Do you wanna hear my plan that I originally called you for?"
Hyunjung makes a motion with her hand, urging you to proceed into such plan that you always make up to escape your drowning parents.
"A couple nights ago, I bought a plane ticket to Italy. I went to a travel advisor today and paid for a bus and a ferry with cash. This way, my parents will simply think I'm in Italy and while they'll most likely hold this whole huge crazy man hunt for me in Milan, I'll be in London, living my own life, single as a bird. Maybe drinking tea with the queen, perhaps."
The thin look Hyunjung plasters on her face is as if she was talking to someone who told her that she was having twins— maybe even triplets.
"Okay," she begins slowly, squeezing lotion into her hands. "Where do I lie in all of this?"
"What?" Narrowing your eyes at her mischievously, you smirk. "You think you have a role in my plan to be set free?"
"I have a role in any devious plan you make up in your head to get the hell away from your, and I quote, "insane, restricting puppeteers of parents"," she scoffs, making you laugh. "Now what is it? Do you want me to lie to them that you're in Italy?"
"See, you're already ahead of the game!"
She rolls her eyes.
"I just need you to lie that I did go to Italy only for a few weeks and if they press you, just tell them that that's all I told you. Easy."
"Yeah, until your parents try to blackmail me."
"They've never blackmailed you."
"Yeah," she exclaims before biting her lip. "But they could!"
"They won't do that," you roll your eyes at them. Sure your parents are strict, but they find blackmail a bit too extra. "Look, are you going to pick me up soon or not? I have a flight to catch."
"Yeah, yeah," she sighs. "I'll leave in five."
The parents that you call yours were indescribably suffocating.
Over-exaggerating, but you do try to peer at it from their perspective, but all you see is publicity and reputation in a string of lies and facades— all of which is clearly evident because you were grown up to keep such a good reputation.
Daughter of a CEO of an oil company and a broadway star, your life was bound to be molded into the flawless model of what a family should be. From the fake smiles on the news to having to be present at elite parties that nearly make you want to rip your brain out, doing one wrong thing would be an instant detrimental effect to your family.
And being tired of having to keep an ideal picture during the day, you sneak out during the night under fake names and fake personas— you are not the daughter of two important people, you are yourself.
Not getting caught was your specialty. It progressed well over time, knowing how well you can harbor in the dark for so long without being exposed, but that week-long trip to Greece was what probably ruined your streak when your mother found out you were not on that school trip upstate, but you were oceans away, relaxing in the nice beaches of Corfu.
Maybe then your mother has gone insane trying to maintain a good reputation for you, but an arranged marriage? Something they've never told you about since two weeks ago? Hell, you were going to drop everything and go off grid just for the arranged marriage to not happen.
And that's exactly what you're going to do.
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The current position you're, unfortunately, in is not ideal to your original plan you have set out for yourself.
Muscles growing tired, you've become exhausted, a tad bit dehydrated, and you had an odd craving for something with chocolate. And to tie it all off, your bus driver had just announced they are scheduled to depart a little later than usual as you sat at the window seat, pondering about the extra time you could've used to get a bottle of water and maybe some fudge brownies from the store, but sacrificing this seat is not apart of your plan.
So you sit there, watching strangers trickle in slowly to find seats on the bus, and thankfully none of them took the chance to sit in the empty seat next to you. As you finally grow a comfort in your seat, ignoring your growing dehydration and aching muscles, you may have spoke too soon when you felt the bus almost shake by how the one stranger slipped into the seat next to you with heavy momentum.
Glimpsing at the panting stranger, you shift your crossed legs to point towards the window. You don't see his face well enough, but you didn't show much care when you lay back into your seat. "Woah there, cowboy, we depart in twenty. You didn't have to rush and crash into this seat beside me."
"What?" He says, breathlessly. You can tell from the corner of your eye, he's giving you a questionable look. "It's supposed to depart at 10:30."
Snorting, you fix your posture. "Yeah, well, delays happen, big guy. It's going to be 11 now. Nice entrance."
As you peek at him, he don't miss the eyebrow he raises at you. Settling in nicely beside you, he holds out his hand in a polite manner. "Jungkook."
You glance at his hand and back at him, going back to leaning your head against the head support. "Hi."
"Ah," he takes his hand back after he notices you not taking it. "So you're going to make me ask you for your name?"
You arch an eyebrow at him. "I'm not making you do anything?"
"I introduced myself. It's a common courtesy to at least share a name back, but seeing that you didn't tell me your name, you're in turn ruining that common courtesy by having me ask you for your name."
"Or I'd rather keep my name to myself than reveal it to an utter stranger," you smile. "Nice try, but you haven't earned my trust enough to know my name."
He has a fixed gaze on you. "Did you want my life story in exchange?"
"That depends. How badly do you want to know my name?"
"Well," he lets out a dramatic sigh. "When I was little, my mom and dad got divorced and my mom married another man—"
"Hmm, see, " you cut him off. "I can't even trust that's a real story. Guess we're better off as strangers."
He chuckles as you close your eyes.
And that's how you shut him up from then, when the began to depart, and in the midst of just entering the freeway when you make the mistake of grabbing a small bag of pretzels from your backpack and sitting back to eat them in hopeful silence.
"Why are you heading to Brussels?" The stranger asks mid-crunch of your pretzel.
Your eyes widen slightly by the sudden question, before you're shrugging at him in response. "None of your business."
It would be easy to tell him that you're only there to catch a ferry, but along with that will follow up more questions— talking to him was draining enough.  
He lets out a light scoff. "A simple question."
"That's none of your business."
Jungkook cocks his head to the side as you're chewing on your pretzels. "Are you always this hard to crack?"
"Are you always this annoying?"
"Not really, but it's definitely getting a rise out of you."
"So I sit next to a dipshit named Jungkook who probably has daddy issues," you throw at him, referring to his previous said fact about him to exchange for your name. "Long hours ahead of us."
"And I, for one, intend to make the most out of it by trying to get to know you."
You snort, pulling out your earphones from your pocket, closing your eyes for the last time until the next stop. "Good luck."
Fortunately for you, when they flutter open, the bus had made a stop in the middle of a venue with greens and whites that catches your eye as you peer out the window. Making it quick, the bus driver announces for a 20 minute break parked in the Swiss Alps, instructing where the bathroom is and demonstrating a shop just in sight.
"Finally," you breathe in relief, feeling your dehydration grow with each second.
You ignore Jungkook and the fact that he was blocking you just slightly to take your break when you squeeze your way between him and the seat, making room for yourself between the people packing in the bus aisle to leave the bus as well.
The air was crisp and your breath was evident every time you exhaled, taking you aback by the wonders of the place around you. The skies were grey, but the massive trees and the sparkling fresh snow of the woods is what makes you wide-eyed.
And you think about how there are so many wonders in the world that your parents have not made you seen. Sure, you've visited Switzerland, but only for pure business. Never once were you told that you could explore and initiate that wanderlust that always grew inside of you when you're away from home.
Taking your boots and trudging through the snow, you follow the flock of people from the bus who are noticeably going inside one of the small wooden buildings or heading to where the restroom signs were.
Grabbing a water bottle along with a bag of chocolate-covered almonds, you're about to buy something with the cash you exchanged with Swiss Franc, when you tiredly see that the line was taking awhile. Letting out a yawn, you divert your attention out the window, only to see something interesting just nearby.
It was a cottage that looked completely different from the similar buildings like the store you're in. Squinting, your curiosity gets the best of you as you're trying to get a better look of it, noticing that there evident trails of moss on the roof, creating a rustic aura, as well as interesting charms being hung on the patio.
You wonder what's inside, completely enchanted by its appearance and its—
"What are you buying?" The voice of your familiar, annoying seat partner appears by your side, causing you to jump out of your thoughts and to scowl at his arrival.
"You don't ever know how to leave someone alone, huh?" You sarcastically grin to which he responds with a smirk, shaking his head.  
"Just you."
You give him a look before you're buying it. "Give me some space, Jungkook."
"I don't know if you're allowed to say my name when I don't know yours, gingercake."
You give him a fake smile before you were finally next in line and Jungkook seemingly follows you to the register. When you notice he's beside you empty-handed, you give him a pointed look. "You're not buying anything?"
"No," he replies. "I don't need anything."
"So, you're just here to annoy me then."
"Essentially," he laughs before he nods his head to a certain direction. "You noticed the cottage out there, too?"
"Quite creepy that you're watching me, don't you think?"
He shrugs. "Think of it what you will. But you didn't answer my question."
"I don't answer to strangers."
"But we're not," he says. "We're bus buddies."
"No," you cringe at the term he made for both of you as you grab the receipt and your snacks. "No, we're not."
Before he would say anything more, you make a hurried walk for the door, back turned to him.
"Oh, come on," he persists as he tries to walk beside you. "Is your name embarrassing, or something?"
"My name is none of your business."
"You're being so stubborn over a little thing. Are you like a wanted criminal? Is that why?"
You gasp dramatically as if he was correct. "Yes! Right on the nose!"
"Come on," he continues, knowing very well your sarcasm was not a pretty trait on you. "I'm not a snitch either way."
"No, but you do know how to get on my nerves."
"That hurts," he chuckles. "Come on, it's just a name—?"
You turn over to him in brooding irritation. "That you don't deserve to know, end of discussion. Jungkook, please, I am of little importance to you and you to me. Not knowing my name won't hurt you in the long run. So please, can I spend the rest of this bus ride without you bombarding me asking me what my name is?"
Jungkook looks at you before he puts his hands up in defeat. "Fine. But for the record, I have never met anyone so protective over something so little like their name."
"And I've never met someone so pushy, but here we are—" As you turn around, you notice that the bus was gone and your eyes widened.
"No, no, no," you mutter before you're sprinting towards the road and just there, the bus was moving further down the winding road, growing tinier within the second.
"Great! How absolutely peachy! We missed our bus!" You groan, removing your beanie from your head, exasperated. You turn over at Jungkook who just so happens to finally catch up to you, noticing the reason for your distress.
"It's fine, don't panic."
You turn over to face towards the standing dumbass with a baffled look. "We're in the middle of the fucking Swiss Alps, idiot! There is no service here. How the hell are we going to get to Brussels now?"
"Look, just calm down. Let's go inside and see if the cashier can help."
However, going into the store didn't help when the lady at the store didn't have any type of phone to help you contact anyone, nor was she interested in helping you both so she pointed you towards the cottage you happened to stare at earlier.
At first, you didn't oppose the idea, very curious as to what this cottage has to offer. And when you step onto the patio and a notice a wooden sign that says open, Jungkook is the first to turn the knob and take a step.
Remarkably, you're not walking in with fear, but you're walking in with a curious mind— and when you happen to step inside, you're not quite disappointed.
It was breathtaking— something you've never seen before. There were rows and rows of jars filled with herbs of sorts and odd colorful gems and crystals were displayed with the occasional plants that hung from the ceiling. A bucolic, yet eerie feeling was blossoming in your chest that you don't notice that you've walked farther in than Jungkook.
"Hello?" Jungkook calls aloud. You peer behind yourself, noticing his wandering eyes as you turn your head back front, focusing on the table with a crystal ball.
"Hello, is anyone here?" Jungkook tries again as you wonder where every single ancient thing came from before the sound of foot steps makes you pause, moving backwards to stand behind Jungkook.
"Visitors?" A voice of whom you'd assume belonged to a female spoke aloud in the unreal way possible.
As she makes an appearance coming out of one of the corridors, you notice that out gracefully comes a woman of red hair and piercing green eyes, lips decorated in berry and cheeks of a deep plum. Her clothing was almost a gypsy, but she wore a coat of fur over the gold jewelry she wore on her neck and hips.
"And what is this?" She brings a finger to her lips in utter astonishment and peculiarity, eyes narrowing to focus on you and Jungkook. "A wreath's bond?"
A what bond? You think.
Jungkook and you take a moment to glance at each other, exchanging odd looks before looking back at the woman who was shuffling towards the circular table with the crystal ball sitting in the center of it.
"Ah, you two don't know," she observes, laughing hysterically and taking a seat. You're confused, but there was an odd feeling in your stomach that seemed to give some sort of trust to her. "Come, you two. Sit. I have a feeling about you both."
"Actually," Jungkook begins, grabbing your wrist and preventing you from moving towards her. "We were told that you would know how to get to the nearest bus station."
Her head snaps up, and lets out a scoff. "By who?"
"Lady in the gift shop," you answer. "They had no phone, but she told us to come here."
"That damn grinch. Always tells visitors to come here when they need a phone or directions."
"Well, do you?" You ask politely.
"This is the Alps, honey-pie. There is no such thing as service here."
"Great, she sees you as food," Jungkook whispers quietly down to you. "She's going to eat us."
The joke that comes from Jungkook makes you nudge him with your elbow, releasing yourself from his grasp that you didn't realize was still there.
"Is there a bus stop nearby?" You try.
"Not nearby, but I can lead you to a village just an hour travel by walking... well, it's more of a ski resort, but surely there's people there willing to help."
"Where is it?"
She's silent before she's patting on the table, motioning you both to sit.
Jungkook and you hesitate, but you're the first to move, walking towards the lady who could easily kill you, but emanates curiosity that even you couldn't resist. Jungkook follows after you, sitting in the chair across from yours.
"Let me see your hands," she says, palms outwards, awaiting your hands. However, you were reluctant, looking up at Jungkook who was shaking his head discreetly. "Oh, I promise I won't bite. I'm Evanora, the friendly witch of the east."
"A witch?"
"That could explain the crystal ball," Jungkook nods, staring directly at the iridescent ball sitting on the table.
"What did you think I was?" She inquires, a berry-lipped smile on her face. "And the crystal ball is just for decoration. Now, hands. Give."
You, with a slight bit of reluctance, gives your hand to her, Jungkook following after you as the witch throws a smile, to which she closes her eyes and slightly squeezes.
You meet Jungkook's smile he was trying to prevent by the odd circumstance you both were in, you shrugging in uncertainty before Evanora opens her eyes.
She nods, pointing outside her window. "If you go down the trail, you will see cabins."
"Wait, that's it?" Pressing her, you were immediately concerned as to what she saw.
"What I saw," she pats your hand in an eerie manner. "Shouldn't be said."
You open your mouth, curious as to what on earth she could possibly have seen that's making her bite back a smile. Eyes peering over to Jungkook, you shake your head. "It doesn't matter anyways," you scrunch your eyebrows at her words. "Trail? What trail?"
"Packed up by snow. But if you follow the opening of those trees, you will find the village." She gives a smile before it immediately fades.
"What?" Jungkook presses, noticing her mood change.
"I must warn you, there are winter elves ahead."
"Elves," you blink.
"Like Santa's elves?"
"Winter elves," she nods. "Do not interact with them. They tend to distract you from your purpose. And they like to steal anything shiny."
"You can't be serious," you arch an eyebrow.
"You've met a witch. Is it really that hard to believe?" Evanora says as she stands. "Go, embark on your journey, but I will tell you this—"
Jungkook stands quite abruptly, seemingly ready to leave the cabin of Evanora's while you stand up slowly, awaiting for Evanora to finish. "Lose one another, you will lose the purpose."
"We won't lose each other," you promise.  
"I have a feeling that you may," she quietly says, but it was audible for you to hear. "And when you must, your wreath's bond will find you both again."
Scrunching your eyebrows together at the phrase, you're about to open your mouth to ask for explanation.
Immediately, the witch puts her finger up to silence you before she smirks. "The day you will see two of me is the same day you won't need me unless you say you do."
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The two of you searched for the opening of the immense and jaw-dropping trees before you, noticing the snow, as Evanora said, being packed up on a trail, however that didn't stop the two of you from walking down the trail.
When you first begin walking, Jungkook is quiet, knowing that you're in your thoughts. And he was right. The so-called witch made you more concerned, especially after she held your hands and said she couldn't say what she saw. You think of the bad things that she must've seen, ranging from a terrible accident or a betrayal or anything that would bring you in harms way.
"Come on, you actually believe she's an actual witch?" Jungkook asks all of a sudden. He must have noticed your brain turning in the silence. "She didn't give us the best directions. She told us to find a ski resort where someone can help us."
"The day you will see two of me is the same day you won't need me unless you say you do," you say aloud, slowly. "What does she mean?"
"Just a whole lot of mumbo jumbo to me," he postulates. "She was probably just saying shit out of her ass." When he sees that you've paused, Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you. "You're not telling me you actually believe in that nonsense?"
"I'm superstitious. I believe in ghosts, aliens, mermaids. A witch doesn't sound like nonsense."
Embarrassed wasn't the word you'd say you felt when Jungkook looks at you, flabbergasted after you decree that you believe in the supernatural. Maybe a tad bit awkward, but seeing that he lets out a chuckle, you purse your lips. "You've read Harry Potter, haven't you?"
"No. No, I haven't actually. I just believe in a little bit of magic, that's all."
"I still think the winter elves is a load of bullshit," he states. "Come on. Elves?"
"Yeah," you nod, semi-lying. "Yeah, I know."
From then on, it felt exhausting.
The continuous trudging in the snow with heavy boots felt overtiring, but determination was your factor that kept you persisting. You couldn't afford to miss a day— not when you didn't think of pulling out enough cash from the bank, so paying for a couple of nights at a motel in London will surely give your location away to your parents who are probably on a manhunt for you.
Just then, Jungkook, who was in front of you, stops.
It makes you bump into him, looking up from the white snow to give him a questioning look. Seeing that he points at something in front of him, you glance at the direction, noticing evident small houses that were seemingly built by branches scattered amongst the area.
"Is this it? Are these the winter elves we have to worry about? Oh man, I sure hope they don't eat my toes!" Jungkook howls, hands on his stomach as he pokes at one of the houses on a tree stump. "Oh no, I wonder if they're magical. Are they gonna freeze us to death?"
You stand up straight, rolling your eyes at him. "Pipe the fuck down, asshole," you scold him, punching his shoulder.
"Oh, come on, did you really believe there would be winter elves? Elves? Please, these are houses made out of branches that a hiker probably made—"
His words were muted out when your ears catching something similar to a musical pipe.
"Shh," you bring a finger to his mouth. "Do you hear that?"
Jungkook's words are mute with your finger pressed against his lips while your ears try to pick up what sounded more clearly like a faint flute folk song.
Scrunching his eyebrows, he brings a hand to your wrist, removing your hand from his lips and stares at you intently. Gazing up to him, you stand still when he comes near to you, bringing his previously muted lips to your ear.
"That's the wind," he whispers, causing you to exasperatingly sigh, lifting your hands to push him away as he cackles loudly that he was clenching his stomach once more.
Annoyed wasn't a term you'd settle with how you were feeling at the moment, but as you stand there, with arms crossed over your body, you wait for him to shut up. "For gods sake, come on."
Grabbing his arm, you continue to walk along the veiled trail, his laughter fading away after a long time, and once it did, your breath nearly stops when ahead you see a spread of lights.
"Is that it? The ski resort she was talking about?" Jungkook asks, panting as you shrug, continuing to walk as you saw people in layers walk around. You admire the colors they were wearing, some were neutrals, but some wore festive colors of red and green, gold and white.
"Come on, old man," you tell him as he was trailing further from you.
"Slow down a little bit, would you?" He calls for you as you throw a grin at him, turning back around to keep walking on the cobblestone sidewalk, mesmerized by the village.
After a few steps of being mesmerized of the things around you, you turn around, noticing that you weren't the only thing mesmerized by the things around you, but when you see Jungkook being swept away off his feet into what seems to be a pub by a strand of golden hair, you're once again, annoyed.
Pursing your lips, you let out a sigh and turn around, beginning to walk down the street, easily letting your contempt ease off your chest as you try to look for someone to help by yourself. You didn't even care if you were going to have to leave this ski resort by yourself, that was your whole purpose.
You walk further down, watching in awe as the people decorate their exteriors, putting up tinsel, lights and garlands, those carrying a fresh tree into their homes, and those carrying stacks of presents, curious at how festive the place was being.
Stopping in front of a store, you stare from the outside, admiring the exterior before your eyes narrow, attempting to peek inside the store.
First, you see a spectrum of colors of what your eyes focused to be wrapping paper of different designs and patterns galore. You think it's a gift store, but then, you observe that there are people in rows, wrapping boxes in a quick and swift motion. At first, you're marveling at how fast they're wrapping, tying it all off with a bow on top and tossing it in a pile of other finished presents before you're thinking they resemble something so familiar that—
You're distracted.
Realizing this, you tear your eyes away from the store, continuing to walk, searching for someone who was not tending to decorating or not busy in this ski resort to help you, only when you reach a revelation.
This was no ski resort— at least one without a ski left. And as if Evanora's raspy voice was echoing in your ear, you realize the mistake that you and Jungkook made; you separated.
It is with no hesitation that you're walking with a brisk pace, others on the street looking up at the foreigner walking towards the pub in such a hurry.
You pull on the door, a bell indicating that customer walked in, eyes searching for the person you were warned not to split from, implicitly ignoring that others were looking at you with a strange curiosity.
Walking inside and letting the door shut behind you, your eyes graze upon the small pub before they stop to the familiar raven-haired boy talking to the blonde in which her pernicious coquetry was evident even from afar.
You're about to grab Jungkook from his arm in attempt to drag him away, but you stop when you see that the blonde seductively takes a finger to his neck, tracing a line down his throat to hook her finger along the silver chain that was tucked under his shirt.
Nearly vomiting whatever was in your stomach at the sight in front of you, you crinkle your nose in utter remorse when Jungkook looks at her up and down, a smirk on his face.
The sight merely makes you leave the pub, until you turn around adamantly, only to remember what Evanora was saying— they tend to distract you from your purpose.
Groaning distinctly, you whip towards the idiot and the seducing winter elf, clearing your throat at the two who were sharing a laugh together.
"Oh, hey," Jungkook looks up at you briefly before looking back at the blonde. "There you are. Where were you?"
"Can I grab you for a second?" You say oddly sweetly, feigning the blonde a friendly smile lifted by your cheeks in which she returns one politely before going back to drinking from her cup. Without even hearing Jungkook try to object, you grab his arm hastily and take him outside.
Jungkook stumbles over his feet for a moment before the crisp winter air hits both of your faces on impact. "Woah there, gingercake. What's going on?" Even with a tug, it doesn't loosen your grip from his arm as you try to drag him away from the pub as fast as possible.
"We're leaving," you utter, but hearing that, Jungkook immediately stops, your turn to be the one stumbling.
Turning around with a huff, you give him a scowl, letting your hand that was digging into his arm go. He opens his mouth, his narrow eyes questioning your motive. "Why?"
"Jungkook, just listen to me."
He crosses his arms across his chest, a smug painting his features. "What if I don't want to?"
You half-heartedly scoff at him, shrugging. "Fine, then stay. I couldn't care less."
He opens his mouth to say something, but even when he could even process words to elicit, you're already turning around again, eyes focusing on the horizon that's being set as your only goal and focus. As you walk ahead with persistence, you curse in your head for even being kind enough to get him out a situation that could easily have him stripped.  
"Hey, woah," Jungkook jogs up to reach in front of you. Stopping to raise an eyebrow at him, you observe him as he gives you an uncertain look. "Is that jealousy in your voice?"
"How rich," you scoff. "Jungkook, I am anything but jealous right now, and you're really testing me." Moving around him, you continuing to walk before he stops you again, looking around to find a gap between stores, pulling you to the side from the strangers who were walking past you both.
"You are!" He exclaims once he successfully pulls you away.
"Jungkook," you exasperate, before lowering your voice. "This is not the ski resort. This is the village Evanora warned us about."
"What?"
"You were flirting with a winter elf, idiot," you whisper loudly. "This is not a ski resort, it's a village of winter elves."
Jungkook half-heartedly laughs, shaking his head. When he sees that your face was anything but amused, his face morphs into confusion. "No, there's no such thing as—"
Rolling your eyes, you shut him up by moving closer to him, eyes not tearing away from his when you bring your finger to his neck, which ultimately makes him freeze at your sudden movements. As you're tracing down his throat, you don't think of anything more as you yank down the collar of his shirt, only to reveal what you originally suspected.
"Where's your necklace, Jungkook?" You ponder, your eyes never leaving his. Jungkook hesitates before he removes his eyes from yours and looks down, your hand not leaving its current state and exposing his bare, pale chest.
He inhales sharply before you finally let your hand go, waiting for his eyes to meet yours again. You take a step back, crossing your arms with slight arrogance as you offer an amused smile.
"She was trying to seduce you, Jungkook," you state. "So she could steal. She obviously did a good job when she made you forget your purpose and stole your necklace."
"For fuck's sake," Jungkook curses, running a hand through his hair. You were close to tell him 'I told you so', but you refrain when he takes your wrist and drags you out of the opening. "Let's go."
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The scenery was beautiful, with the green hues that contrasted with the white that was almost so bright it blinded you, but with the little bit of sun that peeked from the clouds, you couldn't help but get distracted with everything around you.
It almost makes you feel like you don't have a crazy dad or an insane mother that expect you to be home in perfect condition just to sell you off to someone you don't know.
You must have been mindlessly walking and trudging in the snow with your boots nearly weighing you down because just when you bump into something, you're about to curse at yourself for being stupid to walk into a tree. That is, until you realize it wasn't a tree, it was Jungkook's form, who had idiotically taken a halt that caused you to bump into him.
"Jungkook—"
"Look," he cuts you off. Peering over his shoulder, your reaction had shifted from annoyance to awe when you notice that the evergreens weren't the only wonder.
Walking down to the ski resort was just over a hill, trudging over inches of snow and having to make sure not to fall face forward. Jungkook eventually sees a bit of struggle coming from you— to which, in your defense, he has an advantage due to his elongated legs— and reaches out to your for support. However, your adamancy slaps his hand away, continuing to walk over the hill to see more of the lights that contrasted the nearing night sky.
"Hey, question," he inquires aloud once the snow had reached scarce and just ahead were the many wooden buildings with warm lights.
Nodding, you spare him a glance, breathing almost heavy as you both continue to walk. "Shoot."
"Don't you think you could've stopped her when she was stealing my necklace?"
Jungkook reaches to your side as you both reach the icy street where people were bundled in clothes. What reassured you were the group of people walking down the street across from you, carrying their snowboarding gear inside a building, their laughter echoing down the streets.
Without pondering, you shrug. "I wasn't the one flirting with her."
"I'm going to ignore your raging jealousy here and ask you one more time—"
"Jungkook, I wasn't the idiot who easily got distracted and forgot what Evanora said," you cut him off. "She said that, lose each other you lose your purpose— and while you were being whisked away by some winter elf, I was trying to find someone to help us. It's not jealousy, it's called not being stupid."
"Great," he exhales deeply. You don't miss the stress that elicited along with it, you cocking your head to the side in sudden curiosity.
"Why? Was it important?"
He waves you off. "It was just a family necklace, that's all."
"A family necklace," you repeat, before scrunching your eyebrows. "Sounds pretty important to me."
"Doesn't matter anymore," he shakes his head as you both continue to walk down the village. "It's gone now."
Feeling a tad bit sympathetic, you reach up to him, matching his pace. "This," you say as you pull out your hand from your pocket. "This was handed to me by my mother which was given by her mother and by her mother and by her mother."
He peers down at your frozen hands, eyeing the ring. "What does the leaf mean?"
You don't tell him that the leaf meant growth.
In your mother's line of successful women, the ring was always passed down so long as there would be potential demonstrated. Your grandmother, being a former model, and your mother, having to be a broadway musical star, you were seen to have potential to be an heiress of the company your father runs— but it's too bad you distasted such high expectations. Hell, you were even willing to have the elves steal this rather Jungkook's necklace when all you're doing is creating a ruination in your line of successful women.
"It's alright," Jungkook says, shaking his head after noticing your reluctance. "You won't tell me your name, I can't expect you to tell me the meaning of your family ring."
At first, you're taken aback at how easy that was for him to say that, especially after trying to have you choke out your name. You stare, flabbergasted but almost grateful he didn't try to push this time.
"The necklace was given to me by my uncle from my mother's side," Jungkook explains nonchalantly as you both unconsciously walk towards the line of cabins that most likely held travelers. "Said he'd give it to his son if it weren't for the fact that his wife can only reproduce daughters."
Snorting, you quirk a smile at him. "How many daughters does he have?"
"Five," he chuckles. "All of who are very, very annoying."
"Why's that?"
"Annoying in a way that they're disgustingly successful," he says. "Runs in the blood except for mine."
To that, you let out a snigger. "I can definitely relate to that."
"What's this?" He laughs. "We're actually having a decent conversation?"
Rolling your eyes, you give him a nudge, shaking your head.
And oddly enough, for once the silence when both of your laughter dies isn't awkward— it's not tension nor is it uncomfortable. It's almost pleasant.
Jungkook, silently, looks at you in a peculiar fond way that makes you slow down your pace a bit. Your insides twist and turn in your stomach at the way he just stares at you without so much of a word— as if he's either judging you or he's admiring you, in which you're hoping deep down it's the former.
You're exhaling a shuddering breath when you desperately decide to ruin the moment, taking one of your hands out of your pocket at pointing at one of the cabins. "Over there," you declare, cheeks beginning to redden. "Let's try over there."
And you do not miss a second to speed up your pace, careful on the slippery street not to slip, hearing Jungkook walking behind you.
When you finally reach to a random cabin with a car parked outside, you're silently hoping that they would answer the door to two strangers.
And with each second passed and your hopes were falling, you hear the door unlatch, your ears perking at the sound when the door opens. A man, wearing a red plaid flannel and a black beanie opens it with a confused look.
"Hello?" He asks and your eyes light up.
"Hi!" You cheerily state, relieved that someone was even willing to open the door. "Sorry to be such a bother, but we're stranded and we were hoping if you knew where the nearest bus station is?"
The stranger nods with a warm smile. "It's down the hill, actually. Quite a trip on foot."
"Is it?" Jungkook asks. "Are there any taxis or maybe Ubers that you know of that's available here?"
The stranger shakes his head. "Nope, but I'd be gladly to drop you guys off there."
"Wait, really?" You ask in surprise, looking at Jungkook with excited eyes. "That'd be really great!"
"Of course," he gleams. "I'm assuming you both need to get to your families for Christmas."
Jungkook and you exchange glances. "Something like that."
"I'll let my wife know and grab the keys."
"Thank you!" You call out, the door being left a crack open as you turn over with Jungkook with excitement. You're nearly about to squeal when Jungkook gives this uncertain look that throws your whole excitement out the window. "Alright, what's in your panties that got you in a twist?"  
"You really trust this guy?"
Your expression falls, shrugging. "He's got a car— unless you want to walk another who-knows miles on foot by yourself?"
"We can't trust everyone we meet, you know."
Ironic he said that. Your expressions falls as you narrow your eyes. "Says the one who trusted a winter elf."
Sure, pettiness could be drawn from tHe opens his mouth to make a riposte, but the stranger comes back with his keys and a coat over his shoulders.
"I'm Seokjin, by the way," he introduces himself as he unlocks the car, both you and Jungkook sitting the backseat. He turns the engine on, immediately turning on the heater that felt like cold air at first.
When he backs up out of the snow without the problem of getting stuck, you feel your body at ease as you finally realize that your plan was setting back on track.
Seokjin speaks up, apparently disliking the silence that you both elicited. "How did you guys get stranded?"
"Our bus left without us," you tell him. "It was his fault."
Jungkook gapes at your accusation. "Oh, nice, we're pointing fingers now?"
Couldn't help but laugh in return, you counterfeit a smile. "Can't deny it."
"You know, for a person to look so nice," Jungkook tilts his head to the side. "You're an absolute pain."
"Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee," you send a wink his way, immediately frowning afterwards. "Piss off, Jungkook."
"Love to, gingercake, but looks like we're stuck with each other for—"
And just then, Jungkook's voice trails off by the sonorous jolly laugh that comes from the man  in the front seat. You turn your attention to him, wondering why on earth he would be laughing. "Sorry. You both remind me of my wife and I."
"What?" Jungkook and you say in unison.
"We used to banter like that a lot."
To that, you snort. "Banter is an understatement. Can't help it when he's a walking idiot."
"And she's a headache in human form," Jungkook pipes in, to which you glare in return.
"Well, my wife used to call me dick for brains," he adds, a jolly chuckle following after as he reminisces his memory lane. "But, I guess I must have warmed up to her if she somehow let dick for brains marry her."
"Yeah, well, she's much more stubborn and colder than that. I don't even know her name."
"You don't?" His eyes peer in the rearview mirror to give us a glance.
"We just met. And besides," you reason, shifting uncomfortably in the seat. "It's not important."
It really wasn't. Your name isn't really your identity when all you think about when you hear it is high expectations. If you let your name be known, everyone is bound to find out who you are and eventually— with word getting around— your mother will find out where you are running away to.
Sure, you could make up a fake name, but you'd be creating bridges even after this trip you know you're going to have to burn them.
He chuckles. "I remember my wife being that stubborn. She really wanted me to give up on her."
"I'm guessing you didn't," you observe.
"She was worth all the constant banters, I'll tell you that," he shakes his head. "Once, she didn't want to admit she was sorry for keeping us a secret from her friends and family. It took her three months of guilt to finally say sorry."
"Three months?" Jungkook ponders. Seokjin nods behind the wheel.  
"It took her time to tell her friends and family about us, but she eventually apologized."
"She must have been scared to want to hide it from them."
The idiot next to you snorts. "Or embarrassed."
"Scared," he answers. "Which is why I forgave her the day I found out about it."
"And you let her feel guilty for three months?"
"I knew she was sorry from the beginning. I just didn't think that the most adamant person in the world would even think of apologizing to me," he chuckles. "But hey, eventually she did."  
To that, Jungkook lets out a chuckle before he's making a trip around the roundabout, making a stop in front of a wide building.
"Here's your stop," he says, putting the car in park. "You two have a nice Christmas, alright?"
You smile at him. "You and your wife as well. Thank you again for helping us."
He shoots you a smile just before you close the car door. "Anytime."
When you hurry inside the bus station, you totally forget about the time until you see it on the massive clock built in the station, and you sincerely hope that the next bus ride to Brussels would be in the next 2 hours. Luckily, as you and Jungkook stood in line for awhile, you both get a ticket for the next bus to your destination which comes in the next twenty minutes.
And as you're trying to forage for remaining cash, you realize that you were short. Jungkook must have noticed this when he coolly steps up and gives his cash, paying for his and your ticket. You look at him, surprised, when they give two tickets to him.
"You didn't need to do that," you utter to him as he gives your ticket.
He shoots you a winning smile, a wink following after. "All you have to say is thank you."
The entire trip of having to hike down the woods was more exhausting than the plane ride to Milan that you couldn't help yourself when you fall asleep on the bus ride. Jungkook must have knocked out too when you wake up in the middle of a bus stop, head on his shoulder.
You think of the possible reason as to why he would be going to Brussels. After all, this whole trip was of him trying to ask questions of you, not the other way around. And it's not like you weren't interested— it wasn't your priority to get to know someone you won't end up knowing in the next week anyways.
Because like everything in the world, not everything is permanent.
You let your head fall onto his shoulder once more, basking in the comfort that will only last for so long.
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Getting off the bus at your desired location, you both realize that it reached dusk, the sun had made its set and the night has become dark. It made a stop just nearby a grand area of colorful lights that intrigued you from afar.
You turn around to face Jungkook who stretches as he hops off the bus. Shooting tired smile your way, you decide to give one back.
"Do you want to go see what's over there?" You ask him, nodding your head towards the place that caught your attention.
His eyes flicker from what you were indicating to yours, a mischievous look painting over his former tired one before he angles his arm, in which you gladly take as you both make way to the bright, shining lights before you.
It doesn't take you long to realize that it's some sort of Christmas Market, as advertised by some of the posters that you saw on the way to the big area.
There were chatters and squeals and Christmas songs galore and despite the weather being cold and brisk, you felt warm.
Saying that there were colorful lights would be an understatement, when really, the Christmas Market looked like an utter theme park within itself. The tall, elongated buildings were decorated from head to toe and even the gazebos that gave shelter to those selling— it was all breathtaking.
It must have taken Jungkook's breath away too when you catch him eye goggling at the many fascinating attractions around him.
"So," you begin, ready to take your first bite from your waffle that Jungkook bought for you after he saw you eyeing it from afar. "Why did you want to come to Brussels?"
The questions surprises him, but his answer was responded with ease. "To start anew."
"Does it have to do with the whole success-running-in-family's-blood-besides-yours thing?"
"You could see it that way," he chuckles. "Or simply because life as it is now for me isn't exciting."
You give him a look, lowering your waffle. "You sound discontent."
"And you sound like you know exactly what I'm talking about."
Chuckling, you shrug. "Well, I'll just say that my trip isn't so much of a nice vacation."
"Hm, you sound tired of the life you have."
"Sounds like you know exactly what I'm talking about."
And with that, both of your words are left in the air as you both are walking down, side by side, down the streets of the brightly lit Christmas market, being thousands of miles away from home.
In your own thoughts, you think about the what if's. What if you didn't hear your parents talk about an arranged marriage for you? What if you actually were forced into it like everything you've ever done in your life? What if you're walking down the aisle to meet a man you haven't even said one word to? What if you end up not loving him?
This wasn't any type of romantic story where two strangers eventually fall in love through force, this is was an ending to your own story. Realistically, there's a chance that the person you're going to marry isn't the prince charming or the knight in shining armor that anyone would expect.
And there goes your life.
Gone and wasted, and not being able to give it a second chance.
However, you weren't letting that happen now— not at this moment in time.
"Do you think that such high expectations can be overbearing?" You ponder out loud, glancing at Jungkook who was a bit startled by your sudden question.
"A lot of the times," he responds. "Why? What type of high expectations are you being held to?"
"Doing something that I don't want to do," you state honestly. "That's why I came all the way here."
"Avoiding it?"
"You could see it that way."
"Can't avoid it forever," Jungkook says. Can't avoid it forever.
You don't think you've ever seen a light show— or at least not one against a building that brings people's jaws to the ground, so when you're watching it, you're absolutely mesmerized.
The lights were dancing and moving in a fluid motion, you were marveling each second of it.
There's a feeling in your chest. So bright and so merry, you finally understand why almost everyone loves Christmas. With your family either being busy during the holidays, you never realized that this is what you're supposed to feel like. Light and finally content.  
Gleaming up at Jungkook, you only smile wider when you realize you caught his eyes. "What is it?"
There was this ghost of a smile on his face that he hides. "Nothing."
You give him a nudge, smugly grinning at him. "It's a simple question."
When he hears you repeat his statement in target to him, he gives this smirk— and for once you're not looking away in irritation or giving him some snarky comment back because when his eyes flicker to your lips and back to your eyes, you knew what was bound to happen.
And you were inevitably going to let it.
Jungkook, with gentle hands, brings you to him, pressing his warm lips onto yours and it is as if you felt your entire body just melt. You move softly against his lips, savoring every bit, but your lips were not helping themselves when they curl into a smile.
He is warm. Like a mug filled with hot chocolate, he is a fireplace on a Christmas eve, and admittedly, you've never been this warm in the cold.
When he lets go, he's looking at you with eyes shaped as crescents. "You trust me enough to kiss you but not know your name?"
To that, you let out a joyous laugh, reaching up on your tip-toes to kiss his cheek. "I'll have you know that revealing your name is dangerous."
Jungkook scoffs, dropping his hands from your cheeks. "How dangerous could yours be?"
You bit back a smile at his subtle frustration, grabbing his falling hands and holding them in yours. "Very."
And all throughout the night, it was filled with cheer and excitement as Jungkook and you strolled around in the everlasting lights. Free samples and attractions at its finest, you both spent your time together forgetting you two had lives you're running away from.
And until your legs couldn't hold you up much longer, you had to go find a nearby motel for the night, forgetting that you had to leave early in the morning for a ferry.
Jungkook and you fought for paying for the room, but Jungkook, being charming in a revolting way, inevitably wins and chooses a room where you both end up with a fireplace and a king bed together.
Just before your eyes were closing, time spent with him was filled with giggles and laughter in the air. He tells you about this one story of how, one Christmas, he thought he saw Santa Clause, but it just his dad's friend dressed in a suit trying to climb chimney for his sake. The story makes you laugh, and though almost unbelievable, it makes you flutter your eyes close, reaching a deep sleep that you desperately needed.
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That morning, you feel like a child on Christmas morning— even when Christmas isn't for the next week. You felt excitement twist in turn as curiosity has gotten the best of you that all you wanted to do was run downstairs and open the presents that Santa brought.
However, the feeling was fleeting— because even children soon realize that Santa isn't real. And that breaking feeling was because of reality that waves over you as your eyes fixate on the sun that peeked through the window.
Waking up to Jungkook next to you, lightly snoring, makes you feel all sorts of butterflies— something you haven't felt in such a long while. You feel almost giddy, knowing that there's someone there and it just happened to be him, but of course, you knew it wasn't going to last long.
Not wanting to leave without goodbye, you bring your hand to his arm, giving him a little shake as you wake him up. A smile creeping on your face as he groggily awakes, squinting at your active presence.
"Hey," you say quietly. "I have to go."
Go was what made him sit up in bed quickly. "What?" He asks, voice raspy.
"I have a ferry to catch," you say as he rubs his eyes. "I wasn't going to stay in Belgium."
"You weren't?" He frowns. "Where are you heading?"
"London," you reply and you watch as his tired face falls, sitting up straight. "It was nice. You know, meeting you and all."
He smirks at you. "The feeling's mutual."
To that, you smile. "Well," you shrug, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. It was the least you could do. "Merry Christmas, Jungkook."
"Wait!" He pulls your arm back when you pull away. Raising an eyebrow at him, he looks at you with hopeful eyes. "Not even a name?"
You think you'd owe him a name, but you shake your head. "Maybe the next time I see you," you bit back a smile. "But, no worries, I won't forget yours."
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When you get to Hana's place in London, you're glad that you made it just in time before she left for Amsterdam. You were also glad that your duffel bag and backpack that were stranded in the bus that left without you was brought to Hana's after you filed a claim for your missing belongings at the bus station.
Hana welcomed you with an embrace, bombarding you with questions that you didn't have time to answer because she had to leave that night, but she made sure she had enough time to catch up with you. You don't tell her about the colossal, mad adventure you had with Jungkook and how he lingers in your thoughts, but instead you tell her about the good things you expect to happen in your time in London.
And before she left to the airport, she gives you a hug, wishing you all the best luck for the holiday season in exploring a city you haven't been to. While you had the house to yourself for less than 24 hours, you realized that all good things come to end.
Especially when you answer the door and your mother is on the other side, hands on her hips.
You completely froze seeing upon her arrival. "Mom, what are you... what are you doing here?"
Without a word, she barges in, sitting on the orange sofa that Hana owns, crossing a leg over her other as she looks at you with darting eyes. "You think I don't remember Hana moving to London? I knew after you took that trip to Greece that you would make a spontaneous trip to London knowing that Hana lives here, but I didn't expect it this soon— oh." Your mother points at you. "—You are something else."
Being yelled at by your own mother felt like a chore, so you calmly close the front door she walked through, walking over to her. "Mom, I don't want to get married."
Her eyebrows furrow together. "___."
"Look, I'm an adult. Most moms want you to focus on finishing college and being able to make a living for yourself, but no, my mom wants me to focus on being presentable— not to mention that she wants to give me away so quickly! And it's not even with a person I love."
"___—"
You shake your head, cutting her off. "You are not making me go back there and marry someone I don't know."
"Sweetheart," she begins before she stands up, searching for your eyes. "You ran all the way here just because you didn't want to get married?"
"I ran all the way here to live, Mom. I wanted to live and experience life without having to worry about what the media has to think about me. Or having to put on a fake smile knowing that I'm a CEO's daughter and the heiress and that if I mess up, that's on me."
Your mother frowns, but you can only shrug in response. "For once, I just wanted to live. Is that so bad?"  
Finally, you give her her turn. You hear her sigh, almost disappointingly, but if a little disappointment is what will give you what you need, then you can live with it. "Darling, I think then this is a good time to tell you."
"Tell me what?"
She lets out another sigh. "You're not really getting married."
You blink. "What?"
"You must have overheard your father and I when he were talking with Mr. Jeon, but we didn't want to tell you when we first arranged it."
"Why not?"
"Because you're not actually getting married," she enunciates. "You're having a wedding to look like you're married, but you don't have to go through with it."
You open your mouth in confusion, but immediately close it when your mother continues.
"In order for your father to establish this business proposal with Arua&Co., the CEO's grandfather needs the approval. By doing that, he needs a traditional reason as to have two major companies combine rather than a very good proposal, and that solution is a wedding."
"But, how—"
"Our loophole is that he specifically said he wanted a wedding, not a marriage— not to have both of our kids actually marry each other. So, if you're dressing up and looking as if you're getting married, you don't have to go through saying 'I do' if you don't want to."
"So you're not really giving my life to someone I don't know."
"That's sick," she full-heartedly scoffs. "I may expect a lot from you, ___, but this is just the one thing we really need you to do. After that day, you're still single as you want to be."  
"Really?"
"Yes, and..." Her voice trails off as you cock your head to the side. "I wanted to tell you this, but because you ran away so soon..." She pauses before she looks at you with a motherly gaze, one that you haven't seen in a long time. "I know that your father and I have a lot of expectations from you, but I know you're an adult. And you need to live your life." You felt your stomach clench. "If you want your freedom, I'll give it to you."
Your jaw nearly falls but she puts her finger up quickly. "With certain restrictions!"
"That's fine— anything!" Nearly squealing, your eyes widen with happiness. "You really mean that?"
"Yes, I'm tired of having to be dreaded by you— my own flesh and blood," your mother laughs. "So, you don't have to come to any of the events we go on. But you will go to the ones we need you to be there for. And you can leave without being monitored, just— shoot me a text from now on. I'm going to get a heart attack the next time you decide to go halfway across the country without letting me know," she says begrudgingly that you couldn't help but give her hug.  
A hug that was genuine. A hug that you haven't given her in a long time.
"Really?" You ask, voice muffled in the hug.
"Really. Merry Christmas, honey," she promises, basking into the hug. "Now, can we go home? After you shower? You smell the bus."
To that, you lightly chuckle, nodding. "Right, but— can I do one more thing?" You ask, pulling away to give her a sheepish look. "Can we go to Switzerland real fast?"
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It was a long story of how he managed to be back here, but long story short, Jungkook is one day in Brussels having beer, and now his two best friends are helping him put on a suit.
"I told you running away from your problems is never a good idea," Namjoon says as tends to the cuffs of Jungkook's scarlet velvet suit. Namjoon, the always practical one, was not helping his dread at all on this day.
Jungkook, groaning, looks at himself in the mirror, never thinking that this is how he would be spending his Christmas eve. "I don't want to be here."
"Well, you are and you're going to marry the girl, whether you like it or not," Hoseok asserts, flipping carelessly through his magazine of interior design.
"Thanks," Jungkook says with a hint of sarcasm.
Namjoon chuckles. "You're gonna wanna say I do anyways. I just met her and she's actually really cool."
"It's just... weird. I've never met her in my life and now I'll be spending the rest of it with her," Jungkook states and immediately he thinks of you— the stubborn girl he doesn't know the name and now he's probably never going to find her and actually know her name. Not when he's going to be all over the media platforms after this wedding and you to find out that he's actually an heir to Arua&Co. and married to some girl who probably isn't as adamant, or pretty, or curious as you.
Namjoon shrugs. "Yeah, well. You'll form a bond somehow."
Jungkook looks up from his suit after hearing a bond. Mind immediately tracing back to what the witch— if she even is one— Evanora said: a wreath's bond.
It doesn't take long before Jungkook raises an eyebrow, recalling the moment of when he sat down at the table across from the stranger and next to the witch, stating some sort of phrase— a riddle.
"The day you will see two of me is the same day you won't need me unless you say you do— it's today," Jungkook speaks.
"Aw, shit. Great," Namjoon announces, letting go of Jungkook's cuff and tending to his own collar. "Jungkook's been in Europe too long he's saying some whack ass shit."
Hoseok chuckles, continuing to flip through his magazine. "I'm telling you, bro, Switzerland is fucking crazy."
"No, you guys. Two of me— she meant the rings— the wedding rings. You do— she meant saying I do. It's a wedding day. She must be here."  
"What," the man who finally looks up at his magazine cocks his head to the side. "Now you solve random riddles? What did they feed you in Brussels?"
Jungkook, without so little of a hesitation, gets out of the groom's room of the venue, running down the hallway to the grand venue of the warehouse of where the lights are all around, there are mistletoe hung, and all sorts of greens bringing color to the room. But what he was searching for was the most vibrant of it all— only to realize that he sees anyone but you.
And to himself, he scoffs, thinking of how foolish he could have been to actually believe a witch who possibly could not have been one in the first place.
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The dress you wear is lace, from your sleeves to your shoulders. Usually, you'd complain about wearing sleeves on a wedding dress— hell, you'd complain about every little thing that isn't much an inconvenience just to piss your parents off for having a bratty daughter. From the wedding dress, to wedding makeup, to the bouquet, to the food— everything will seem just wrong to you— but having that certainty and approval to say no doesn't make you peep one dreadful word.
Admittedly, you liked the idea of having this wedding. It was like a trial run— and you didn't have to oblige to any commitment.
Your mother walks in on you as you had just put on a dress, hair curled, and light makeup— your mother looks at you so lovingly.
"You picked this dress out, huh?" You ask her and she scoffs.
"Only the best for my daughter," she smirks as she walks over to give you a hug. She wore a deep green dress paired with a fur shawl. "You look beautiful. Even if you're not actually getting married today."
To that, you laugh, shaking your head. "If I have to be a runaway bride, might as well look good doing it."
"That's the spirit," your mother smiles, taking one more look at you. "Are you alright?"
"Just preparing how to dramatically say I don't," you joke, earning a mood lightener in the air. "Is the wedding starting?"
Your mother nods. "Your father is waiting for you outside. Whenever you're ready."
It feels odd, truthfully. About to go marry someone you haven't even properly been introduced to yet, but you try not to think about it— because after all, you don't have to go through with it.  
As your arm is interlocked with your father's and you were holding red roses and ferns, you couldn't help but think that this was some sort of fairytale, only for one that you were going to run away from anyways. You think of this just as your father would— solely just business.
As you hear the wedding song play in the audible warehouse, you take a deep breath, your father, giving you a reassuring smile before he starts to take his steps.
Do brides normally feel queasy? No, what were you thinking— you're not actually a bride, and you're not actually going to be married.
Your reassurance in your head makes you feel calm until you're stopping at a spot from across the aisle, where everyone had stood from their seats, countless pairs of eyes staring at you, and only you. Time had froze, but that's not what's making you freeze altogether.
Because standing on the other aisle is Jungkook, the boy from the bus, the boy who went to Brussels who wanted to start anew, the boy who was so curious as to what your name was, the boy—
He was the boy he made you warm in the coldest of nights.
"You alright?" Your father whispers to you, snapping you out of your trance you realized you were in.
"Yes," you answer, eyes not tearing away from Jungkook's.
The person in the velvet suit, waiting for you is just as much in a shock as you are, eyes almost wide, and a look that almost seems like he's relieved to see you. As if he had found oxygen again.
From finally standing in front of him, to staring at him with surprised looks on your faces while the ceremony was taking place, to the very end, you had so many questions and had so many things to say, but couldn't. Instead, you stare at him, thinking what you could possibly say to him to be in this crazy coincidence.
"Do you, Jeon Jungkook, take ___ as your loving wife?"
"I do," he says, his eyebrows scrunching as that was his first time hearing your name. You almost want to snort out loud at how peculiar it is to first hear someone you've been dying to know's name at an alter— standing in front of you. And just immediately, it shakes you because just before, you were thinking of the many ways of how to say you don't, you're actually thinking of saying I do.
"Do you, ___, take Jeon Jungkook as your loving husband?"
The question, that you were so prepared to either say I don't or to runaway dramatically, was left in the air, as you pause. In that moment, you couldn't help but look at the crowd, expecting an answer that was almost obvious— but when looking at your mother for reassurance, she gives you this look and a shrug.
Only if you want to.
Eyes meeting back to Jungkook's chocolate ones, you take a deep breath.
"I do."
"Then Jungkook, you may now kiss the bride."
And there's this big grin you couldn't hide when you notice his little smug look before he's leaning in, recreating the night of when the lights were shining so bright and when just a single kiss could warm you up.
"___," he breathes your name out as if it were fresh air once he releases you from the kiss. "Not as dangerous as I thought."
You scoff, a smile growing. "Just you wait."
He gives you one more look before he kisses you once more, lifting you up from the ground. This time you kiss him harder, confused, yet grateful that this is how you two would meet again— right under your noses.
When he sets you down gently as a feather, he gives you one more look before you slowly both turn over to the crowd who were muted by the moment you had with Jungkook. There was clapping and there was screaming— and you don't even realize that Hyunjung crashes into you with the biggest hug.
"I'm sorry! I tried my best to divert your mom when she asked me if you were in London!" She says, nearly taking your life away as she squeezes you.
"It's fine, Hyunjung— just let me go," you beg, attempting to push her away. As she finally lets go, she gives you look from your eyes to the bottom of your dress.
"I didn't think you'd go through with it," she says, eyes almost tearing up. Rolling your eyes at her, you notice that your mother is walking up beside the nearly crying Hyunjung, an eyebrow raised.
"Neither did I," your mother intervenes. "Is it because he's good looking that you decided to say yes?"
Turning your head to look over at Jungkook who was being hugged and patted down by his groomsmen, you look back to your mother, a big smile painting your features.
"No, actually," you begin. "We know each other."
Your mother is surprised by your answer. "You do?"
"Yes," you smile, looking over at Jungkook. You don't tell her that he was the person who you were stuck with the whole day— the person who made you believe that you could actually live.
"I guess it all works out in the end, doesn't it?" Hearing your mother say that to Hyunjung, you smile to yourself before you're approaching Jungkook who had been waiting for you, and probably has been for awhile.
"I knew you'd be here."
"Really now?" You challenge.
"The day you see two of me is the day same day you say you do," he fluidly states causing you to open your moth amusedly. "A wedding day."
"So, you believe in witches now?"
"Not witches. But maybe just a little bit of magic," he laughs, before he grabs at your waist smoothly, guiding you down the aisle in which you both walk down it, the many people clapping for the newlyweds.
Once he reaches the end where the photographer was snapping pictures, he lets one hand rest at your waist and the other to cup your cheek. He's close, so tremendously close, that his lips only graze yours.
"___," he breathes out with a smirk. "I'm never going to stop saying your name."
And when he kisses you, you feel warm all over again.
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redantsunderneath · 3 years
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I’ve Never Seen David Lynch and George Lucas in the Same Room at the Same Time…
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The thematic parallels between David Lynch and George Lucas are something I keep coming back to again and again, but their careers and evolution have a lot of overlap too.  They were born in the earliest Boomer cohort (George Lucas in May 1944, David Lynch January 1946) and had experiences growing up that were colored by the idyllic 1950s, but shifted into a distrust of authority structures that was common for many of their age cohort in the 1960s. They both came of age wanting to do something physical with her hands that felt creative to them in large grimy spaces - fixing cars for Lucas, and painting and installations with a fascination with organic materials, industrial metal, and rot for Lynch. They both fell into film because they were looking for something that satisfied their artistic bent (although film was never a primary aspect of her life to that point).  They wound up making a handful of short films over a 3 year period, culminating in a longer short-film that would eventually get them noticed at roughly the same age (Electric Labyrinth THX 1138 4EB [1967] and the Grandmother [1970] for Lynch).
These films netted both of them a patron (Francis Ford Coppola for Lucas, the American Film Institute for Lynch) and started filming their first feature-length film two years after those films.  They both got their biggest name recognition bump by films released in 1977 and pulled away from the power of the studio system in roughly 1984. Famously, Lucas offered Lynch a chance to direct what would become Return of the Jedi in about 1981 ( I prefer the story where Lucas does this by picking him up in a Lamborghini - I’ve heard a phone call version too, but it’s not as perfect) and Lynch answered something like “it’s your movie George, you direct it.” They both spent the mid 80s in movie jail, and although they took very different paths in general after (I’ve been emphasizing the similarities) there are still things that jibe in the history - they both reminded people of what they liked about them with a late 80s movie, spent a lot of the 90s on TV projects, did one project around classic radio, returned to theatrical notice around the millennium, all the while generally keeping their own council and disappointing a lot of fans.
There’s obviously a world of difference. Lucas is a left brained technologist who equated freedom with an owning of the means of production.  Lynch is it right brained impressionist seeing freedom-as no one ever being able to tell you what to do, acting as a solo artist with collaborators who merge with his sensibilities.  Lynch is a production lone wolf, depending mostly on people believing in him and funding him, and losing out in the popular consciousness by making uncompromising art that may not be what the audience wants, meaning funding is sometimes hard to come by. Lucas is like the Democratic party controlling the Congress and presidency - having total power but unable to turn that into what he really wants to make, somehow. The idea of Lynch selling his body of work to Disney is absurd.
But the correspondences in this are telling and help to explain the thematic similarities and divergences.  Plus, the differences often relate to the similarities - Lucas identifies with corrupted controlling paternalistic power as a horror of inevitable capture of the individual by larger structures, while Lynch sees the corrupted masculine influence as an archetype, the call coming from inside the house, agency coopted by a collective taint in the universal pattern .  But on some level these are the same thing - what is this person I am capable of becoming seeing as I am in control but yet not, doing horrific things?  Lucas’ constant commentary on slavery is about hegemony and a systemic oppression he is complicit in, while Lynch has whole pantheons of beings that turn people into vessels that oblate the self and make them act on subconscious programming.  Neither probably think the word neoliberalism too much but tend to communicate similar things about it is almost diametrically opposed ways.  
The thematic similarities are rooted in a few areas that unpack in to a variety of subspaces which overlap – patriarchal structures as psychoanalytic dynamics (more Freudian father fixation for Lucas, Jung for Lynch), boomer generational failure as socio-first-but-economics-ultimately, the artist as in struggle with larger forces (largely of the self), and an eastern religious metaphysics that is American Christian in flavor.   The major line of difference running through this is gender/sex/desire, Lynch being on main with a lot of spiritual overtones of sin, guilt, and “the fall” and Lucas finding this kind of guilt and sin as a secondary phenomenon that is mostly actively suppressed and unconvincing when it shows up; yet both wind up often finding physical consummation at direct odds with art in a gendered creation way (that also links Eraserhead to Age of Ultron and the original Frankenstein). Try doing a psychosexual reading of Howard the Duck sometime.  
Lucas’ developmental through line is this: dude in love with 50’s culture but informed by 60s counterculture makes a movie where the young granola-ish revolutionaries win against the fascists in an effort to rewrite society but, having secured rights for “independent spirit” reasons now finds himself in control of something huge and immediately starts making art about boomer men becoming their controlling fathers and then moves on to movies where powerless freaks are the real focus.  After a creatively fallow period, he comes back to make a sequel/prequel trilogy that is one of the most misunderstood complicated statements about people becoming what they hate as an eternal cycle at the level of the personal, the societal, the political, the spiritual, the artistic, you name it!
Lynch’s developmental through line is this: dude in love with 50’s culture but informed by 60s outsider/art counterculture makes a movie where the young artist struggles with the idea of a regular life, initiated by fatherhood, which attempts to destroy the artistic spark, after which he enters the Hollywood system and makes an artist as freak movie and a movie about plucky rebels conquering space authoritarianism (that the future of is books about that ending in messianic authoritarianism) and then disavows that system.  He then proceeds to make art about subject and object as a supremely gendered thing, in a land that has fallen from grace, moving inexorably towards the idea of eternal cycle at the level of the personal, the societal, the political, the spiritual, you name it!
They both have an idea of the father-artist identified with the abject oppressed, under siege as figure, resentful from being kept from creation, over a career realizing that their “self” is the horrific villain of their own story.  For Lynch, this is psychosexual, then spiritual, with a resisted toxic masculine urge to control and overwhelm, often in a violent way.  It is the artist’s own urges that get in the way of making art, of desiring in the universe that has an unbalanced power structure from some far off echoes of an original symmetry breaking inherent to the archetypal gender dynamic. For Lucas, it is the realization that the artist in control has a tendency to become the controlling dad and sexual relations are inherently problematic in a political and spiritual way.  Real art seems impossible if the artist has control, identifying with the downtrodden is a bit of a lie, happy endings can’t happen not because of the happiness bit because of the ending bit.  For both, there is a fundamental flaw in the cycle, which is patriarchal in nature, but Lynch just approaches this much hornier.
The boomer part probably requires the most discussion, but the TLDR is that they are both are crawling out, through Vietnam, from the 50s social order, and grappling with how badly the 60s idealism failed.  Lucas does this in the prequels as a big canvas critique of how the social revolution was co-opted by the generation not being able to see its own flaws, of not seeing the system taking over again, an Empire calling itself a Republic.  An inability to look in the mirror and really see.  The wisest oldest hippie is the only one who sees what’s happening, but is powerless as his apprentices are inevitably spit out, and the next generation has to be raised not by a skeptic but a true believer in “liberal” “democracy” (cynic quotes theirs).
Lynch is interesting here in that he most directly addresses this only in Twin Peaks, but we see more naked reflections, divorced of contemporary politics, in his other works. In Twin Peaks, Ben Horn is the Palpatine figure, who winds up a sweet old man buying off the harm his life’s work and progeny have produced while ignoring the poor and next generation personally. Jacoby the neutered, fried Yoda that eventually slides into Alex Jones territory (the canonical Boomer ethos in a nutshell – “what me” neoliberalism and change the world ideology going crackpot).  All of Twin Peaks except for Fire Walk with Me is directly socioeconomically generational (Bobby Briggs becomes a young Republican in season 2, the mill, the trailer park), but the other works are full of class issues informed by Lynch’s age.  From Blue Velvet’s suburban kid exploring his darker side by going to the poor part of town through a career of classist low-life encoding (Bob is a denim jacket wearing homeless person, all the covered in grime by the dumpster/trailer park characters, Ronette as the factory floor version of Laura, etc), culminating in Inland Empire and Twin Peaks the Return chronicling the fall of man as partially an (generationally specific in TP) economic fall into a unequal class defined world of needing an opening and leaving the house to labor as where evil is born. TP OS is about how boomers turned out just as bad, the Return is about how we inhabit the world of their ideological blindness.
All filmmakers seem to, at least to a certain degree, bring the question of creation of art directly into their work via distant or close metaphor. In Eraserhead and Elephant Man, Lynch values the spark of art which the downtrodden protagonist is trying not to lose. In Dune, the visionary with a big project that seeks to upend the system (but that we know eventually become something even worse) is a project that fell apart due to studio interference.  Blue velvet is about the act of watching awakening something uncomfortable in us that is incompatible with normie life (it wouldn’t be weird to say it was about porn). Twin Peaks is about television, FWWM about movies, and all at least partially about closure being a death act in art.  Lost Highway is about the artist tortured by desire, Mulholland Drive about desire being central to be eaten alive by the Hollywood system.  Inland Empire is about filmmaking as a way into understanding the world on a deeper level (as is its unofficial sequel Inception) to cure its ills.  All of this is art’s struggle against power, with an element of the major powers being subconscious forces that control us leading to desires that ablate the artistic impulse.
Lucas' projects have over time been about a young upstart independent filmmaker, losing his soul by becoming successful, and becoming the system, man.  He then tries desperately to identify as really not the one in charge, until he admits to what he has become.  He consistently dips back into filmmaking as an adventure or a good fight, but he has to set these in a time period before his birth.  As in Lynch, having a child is equated with not being able to fulfill the kind of artistic destiny, but Lucas goes further in equating it to an excuse for why the powerful artist goes bad and needs redemption.  He had a naïve or-is-it canny motif focused on the short inhuman outsider, often related to music or primitive settings (often with wooden cages) as a recurring thing for a while.  These characters are often wise, or at least no filter tell-it, and are similar to the Elephant Man.  This is a trope, sure, the wise different wavelength other, but there is also an identification of the artist at knowing and right yet impotent and a clue to the author’s metaphysical system.
Lynch is the mainline protestant in upbringing and very much influenced by a kind of proto-eastern religion (you can just say the Vedas for shorthand).  Lucas is not very religious, but was brought up Christian, influenced by Christian symbolism and became interested in world religion as narrative via figures like Joseph Campbell.  Hence, they both gravitate towards some kind of Gnostic Proto Christian, So-Cal zen, Thomas Aquinas “gets” Plato kind of amalgam, which informs their work.  Lynch has veered towards an eternal cycle framework, and the very physics compatible idea of something in the past breaking and causing consciousness/suffering, through which we can achieve joy as a counter only through letting go of the self, and the recurrence of ruptures on all scales demonstrating a fractal pattern of hurt and redemption.  Lucas also sees a big cycle, but it is one more of human existence as narrative that has a tendency to return, with a little bit of Nietzsche and movie eastern spirituality thrown in. Both believe in a recurring pattern that plays itself out in a way that is terrible, but hopeful, as the struggle is where hope derives from.  Both have inherently Christian ideas and symbols in their work but lean back on non-Christian ideas that the Christian ideas have a history with. Lynch has his virgin Mary as the real Christ figure female angels that show up, while Lucas has turnt space Jesus.
Suffice it to say that the tree trial scene in the Empire Strikes Back and the lodge sequences in Twin Peaks are a very good place to start looking for how the two auteurs meet.  Compare Anakin/Luke Skywalker to Mr C, look at the 90s turn they both made, register their seeing the “sleeper must awaken” of fiction being terribly fraught, compare the force vs. the universal field, the way their relationship status and partners carve their work into eras, and their continued existence as mainstream experimental filmmakers. 
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minsugapie · 4 years
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Mary’s Song: part 5b (2866 words) - the tables have turned
• • • • • •
Jeon Jungkook wasn’t just your anime-loving, manga-drawing, hair-pulling, ex-neighbour. You hadn’t even spoken to him since he had moved away. But the world worked in funny ways because...
He was probably the reason you were still alive.
• • • • • •
“And our daddies used to joke about the two of us
Growing up and fallin' in love
And our mamas smiled, and rolled their eyes
And said, "Oh, my, my, my””
• • • • • •
previous // current \\ next
masterlist
• • • • • •
Tags : @minhyuksfatgf @igotarmyofarohas @dixonsbugaboo @thealexalcala @salty-for-suga @worshiphoseok @okaysoplshelpme @jeonlovers @acupfullofsuga @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @hannahdinse8 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dammit-jjk @dreamcatcherjiah @xxxanimangxxx @wrmnssoul @ephyra1230 @imynnow @prdshobi @klverse @butterflylion @fuddyize @ahnneyong @nanie5 @squidyelmosquidbutt
• • • • • •
i have all four of my finals within the next 6 days...wish me luck
• • • • • •
Thankfully you had Jimin and Taehyung to talk to on this drive to your parents’ house because Jungkook barely said a word. It was starting to really get to you. You could tell that whatever he did was to protect you, and you knew that by the little things that he was still doing. Yet, what you wanted the most was exactly what he wasn’t giving you—his attention. 
So when you finally pulled up in front of the house, you knew that you needed to finally talk about what had happened. Whether Jungkook was not talking to you because of the kiss or the day that followed, you weren’t sure…but you knew that he had to forgive you eventually. Maybe you’d joke and call it even for what he’d done to you in high school. But you weren’t petty like that, and you simply wanted to talk to him like an adult. 
The two of you sat in the car for a full minute before Jungkook finally opened his door and got out of the car. You quickly followed, grabbing you suitcase from the backseat. Jungkook would be going to his own house after dinner, so you weren’t sure why he even brought his bag into the house…actually, maybe you did. You might need to sleep with him again here. 
Once you were at the entrance of the house, you called to him, “Wait! Can we talk?” It came out more hesitant than you intended. 
He gave you the eye quickly before he answered, “Meet me in the backyard in 10.”
You did realize that saying hello to your parents was probably the first thing that you should do.
“Mom! Dad! We’re here!” You called once you walked through the threshold. Jungkook walked in behind you, putting his bag down beside the door. 
“Hey! I’m just in the kitchen! Your dad had to pop to the store for me. Jungkook, your parents will be on their way soon. We’ll talk at supper, okay?” Your mom seemed busy in the kitchen, so you simply decided to just go to the backyard now. Jungkook had already gone and wasn’t even there to hear your mom talk to him. “Okay, Mom. I’ll come in in a bit and set the table!”
Taking a deep breath, you looked at the surroundings of the house you hadn’t seen in a few years. It was exactly the same as you remembered, your mom not liking change. Actually, you were sure that she’d left it the same so that she could keep it that way for your dad. He had always been away, and he liked coming home to what was the same. She liked to keep him happy during the little time they had together. It wasn’t a secret to you that your parents’ relationship was strained enough as it was. 
You found Jungkook standing only a few feet from the door, staring at the minimal yard furniture that was out there. You remembered your parents and his used to drink out here all the time while you played together…or you tried to play and he tried to get away from you. 
“You’re right that we need to talk,” he said once he heard the door shut behind you. You went to his side, attempting to get as close to him as possible, but he just moved away from you as soon as you stood beside him. You always wondered what could possibly be thinking about. Unlike some people, his face never gave anything away…
“Ok, so talk,” you whispered. You felt even smaller than before since he moved away. 
“You’re the one that wanted to talk first, so you say what you wanted to say,” he countered, putting his hands into his jacket pocket. It was getting colder outside, and there was no way you didn’t need a jacket to stand the outdoors. 
“Fine,” you responded, walking in front of him and looking into his eyes. “I have a few things. But first, is there a reason that you’re not looking at me or touching me at all? Because you used to do both of those things so freely, and I never stopped you. Is it because of the kiss? Is it because I forced you to kiss me when you didn’t feel that way about me? Did I disgust you? Do you—”
“God, Y/N, stop! It’s not the kiss. Couldn’t you tell that I wanted that? You wouldn’t even believe me if I told you how many times I’d want it to happen when we were in high school. I’d kiss you again in a heartbeat,” he revealed, looking down at his feet.
“See but even when you admit to that, you still can’t look me in the eyes!” You argued, taking a step towards him. Your hands moved up to his face, putting them on his cheeks to make him look at you. You realized your mistake as soon as you made it, however, because he just shoved you off of him and walked past you, rubbing his own hands down his face in frustration. 
You frowned at his actions, head falling. You didn’t want there to be tears in your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the hurt you felt when he pushed you off. He looked back at you after a minute. “The problem I’m having right now is that I still want to understand why you went back to him when we were figuring things out and then you get beaten to a pulp! Fuck, just understand that you’re fragile for once in your life and you can’t do everything on your own!”
“You know what, Bun…” You raised your voice, meeting his intensity, “You tell me right now who the person was that once told me that I needed to start sticking up for myself and figuring things out on my own because, and I quote, “I’m not going to be your little bun bun forever, so grow up, Y/N, because I refuse to be around anymore to bail you out of shit from your own doing any more!” And now that I think about it, why did I even call you originally if you said that to me? It makes no sense. I’m just ruining my own life at this point!” 
Jungkook looked ashamed. You wondered if he remembered his exact words or if they were only things that played on your mind every once in a  while.
“I was cruel,” he whispered, falling onto his knees in front of you. 
“Oh, get up, Jungkook,” you said as you grabbed his arm and waited for him to say something more. 
“Honestly, I didn’t mean anything that I said. You were fifteen, Y/N! I was seventeen. It wasn’t exactly like I was in my sane mind…all I wanted was for you to stop infiltrating my brain. All I did was think and worry about you, and I hated it.”
You frowned, not sure what he was talking about. “We’d barely spoken to each other since I entered high school. How was I all up in your business?”
“It was because I kept doing things for you without you even knowing, and it made me mad…but then I got mad for no reason besides the fact that I could no longer help you out. I thought I was warning you for your future without me but I was really just being mean.”
“Yeah, you were very mean. And Nic was the person that picked me up when you knocked me down…”
His eyes raked over your face, thumb going up to the scar on your forehead. You flinched when he touched it, realizing how bad you still looked. The large gash that had been on your forehead was now a scar with a nasty yellow bruise covering more skin than you ever wanted to see. Along with that bruise, there were numerous others that littered your body. 
“It’s my face isn’t it?” You asked, biting your lip as you looked at him. “You can’t look at me because I’m not pretty anymore. I get it.”
He immediately shook his head. “You’re always pretty. But you’re right about your face. I can’t look at it because it reminds me of what I didn’t protect you from.”
“You don’t need to feel bad because it was my decision. Now are we going to still keep walking on eggshells around each other, or are we going to get passed this?” You dared to ask, hesitantly putting your hands around his waist inside his jacket. 
“Well, I guess we have to, don’t we,” he replied, settling in closer to you. His fingers tangled into your hair as he cupped your cheeks. 
“Were you telling the truth before when you said you would kiss me again in a heartbeat?” You fisted the back of his shirt. You could still smell his body wash from the shower he took before you left, and it comforted you because it was the exact thing you smelt before bed every night. 
“I don’t make habit of lying to you, Y/N…” 
“Great,” you smiled, pushing away from him and walking back towards the door, “But I should go set the table. Your parents are probably going to be here soon. Oh, and you have kissed me in the past, not sure if you remember or not.”
Jungkook grabbed your arm before you could go back in the house. When you turned around to look at him, he had complete confusion written on his face. “I think I would have remembered if I’d kissed you.”
“You were drunk. It’s fine,” you try to play it off, leaning towards the door again. 
He closed his eyes tightly and breathed out hard. When he head tilted back, he groaned. “I ruined our first kiss because I was a stupid teenager.”
You shook your head and replied, “I don’t count it as our first kiss…our first real kiss was that morning in bed. It was perfect, and I never wanted it to end. Oh, my God, I can’t believe I just admitted to that!” Your hands flew up to cover your burning cheeks. 
You were watching Jungkook’s face and were pleasantly surprised when he started smiling with every word. When he tilted his head, you saw a little glint in his eye. His fingers slowly curled around your hands and then brought your hands down from your face. He started leaning into you, warm breath easily fanning across your face in the cooler air. “Are you gonna kiss me now?” You whispered, closing your eye as he almost made contact. 
After a small chuckle, he responded, “I was definitely leaning in, yep.”
You stuck your chin out higher, waiting for him to continue.
“Jungkook and Y/N! Mr. and Mrs. Jeon are here!”
Ugh. 
• • • • • •
“So, Dad, what can you tell us at all about the case?” You asked, taking a drink of the wine that your mom thankfully poured you. You didn’t know if you could talk openly about it without it. “I just want to feel as safe as possible…”
You felt Jungkook’s hand slide over your knee in comfort. He was letting you know that he was there, and you were thankful. Looking around the table at the other guests, you noticed everyone’s utensils briefly pause. After all, your question was out of the blue. Jungkook’s mom had been talking about their plans for Christmas dinner. Obviously, they would be eating together. Your mom was all for it. 
“Well,” your dad started, putting down his fork and picking up his napkin to wipe his mouth, “we expect it will go smoothly since he was caught in the act. Your testimony of the treatment will decide more with the jury. We still plan on having that restraining order completed for after he gets released. I’m thinking that he won’t be put away for longer than twelve years…and that a lot if we’re lucky.”
You swallowed and looked at Jungkook, a look that didn’t go unnoticed by both sets of parents. “It’ll all work out, Honey,” he whispered in your ear, your eyes closing at his words. You gave him a small nod. 
“We’re all there for you, Y/N, you know that!” Jungkook’s dad piped in, taking a large swig of his own beer. 
“Cheers!” Your dad said, holding up his glass, “to the end of my daughter’s suffering!”
“Cheers,” you quietly said, your brain whizzing a thousand miles a second and thinking way too far into the future—far enough that you were thinking of when Nic got out of jail. 
“Not to be the one the change the subject, but I want to change the subject…” Jungkook’s mom said, throwing her hands up and looking right at you. “But I was looking through some old albums and found some funny pictures of the two of you!”
“Oh God, this wasn’t a part of the plan for tonight!” Jungkook groaned, now taking a large gulp of his own drink. 
“You guys were so cute! Y/N had a cute little crush on you and you always protected her, even if you were annoyed! I remember this one time when you were playing on the play structure, and some mean boy from Y/N’s class pushed her down the slide and made her scrape her knees. Jungkook was the first person ready to stick up for her. I swear that eight year old boy was going to throw punches if she didn’t stop him.”
You tried hard to hold back a laugh at the story. You remembered it like it was yesterday because you were sure that it was the moment that you started liking Jungkook. Before then, Jungkook was just a boy, but after that incident, he was the person you looked up to the most. As much of a crush that a six year old girl could have, you had it, and it only deepened with time—until you were fifteen, crying after he left you and broke your heart. 
“Wherever Jungkook was, Y/N was. Seems like that’s the way it is today too,” your mom added, giving you a look like she knew what was going on in the backyard before supper. Actually, they both knew something was up after the night in the hospital.
You dad came to your rescue this time. “I’d argue that the tables have turned.”
“Hm?” Jungkook’s dad questioned, looking between you and Jungkook. 
“Jungkook’s the one following her now…and I thank God every day for that!” 
You smiled at Jungkook, agreeing with every word that your dad said. Thank God Jungkook had been following you. 
• • • • • •
After dinner was over, you helped your mom do all the dishes while Jungkook caught up with his parents and your dad. Your dad’s opinion of Jungkook has done a 180 degree turn—he was no longer skeptical.
Your mom washed as you dried, that was just the way it went. 
“So what’s really going on between you two?” Your mom nudged your shoulder, and you almost dropped the plate you were drying. 
“What do you mean?” You asked, clearing absolutely nothing out of your throat but awkwardness. 
“Don’t try to pull the blanket over my eyes…I know there’s something going on. I saw you two earlier today and you seemed pretty close. Plus, you didn’t see the way he was with you at the hospital…” Your mom provided, sly smile on her face.
You stopped what you were doing, leaning back against the sink with a sigh. “Mama, do you think that it’s too fast for me to feel anything for Jungkook? It hasn’t been long since Nic…”
You mom stopped what she was doing too, running a palm down you hair. “I think that you have to follow your heart, babe. Jungkook has been in your life for so long…and Nicky, I-I mean Nic, was a rough relationship. You’re not still in love with him, are you?”
You closed your eyes and thought. “I don’t think I’ve loved him for a long time…maybe five months? But, he still means something to me, you know? It’s so hard to explain.”
“Again, I think you need to follow your heart, and if it’s leading to Jungkook, I think it could be something very beautiful,” she added, taking you in her arms. Your mom was always such a comfort, and thankfully, nothing had changed.
“Speaking of Jungkook…can he stay over tonight?” You asked while you were still hugging. 
She pushed you back, holding you at arms distance. “Why?”
“He helps me sleep.”
“What do you mean?”
You blushed and looked away, awkwardly trying to figure out how to tell your mom. “I have trouble with nightmares and sleeping when he’s not around…so we sleep together…every night.”
“Y/N, no…” Your mom trailed off, wide-eyed. 
You nodded, biting your lip. 
“How about this,” your mom offered, going back into the sink. “Jungkook can stay, but he has to sleep on the blowup mattress.”
You would take it. 
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goattypegirl · 3 years
Text
Harrow the Ninth Live Read: Chapter 6-11
Con: It’s been a while
Pro: We finished part 1!
Con: this post is hella long now.
Chapter 6
Eighth House icon. Oh no. Gotta say, not a fan of the characters from the Eight House in Gideon the Ninth, whose names I now forget. There was Big Dude and Mayonnaise Twink. 
OH OK WE’RE STARTING OFF WITH SOME LOCKED IN SYNDROME SHIT. 
So, panicked person wheeling Harrow is given the title “Sacred Hand.” I vaguely recall seeing that before; is that a title given to Lyctors? Is this one of the OG Lyctors finally making an appearance? Wheeling the frozen Harrow to the Emperor to “unfuck accordingly?” Well, maybe not. Presumably another Lyctor would be able to “unfuck accordingly” themselves.
Oh disregard it is a Lyctor! And if we go back to the Dramatis Personae, this should be... Mercymorn! Originally of the Eighth House! She seems nice.
“It was his order that she not be touched.” Did the Emperor do this? But hwhy?
Calling Harrow and Ianthe babies is kind of hilarious. Aaaand Mercymorn just knocked this random person unconscious. OH wait is this the person the Emperor said to make static-y noises at? Survey says... maybe? They were called the Saint of Joy, which seems a unique title?
The whole description of the Lyctor and the way she visually dissects Harrow is so poetic, but something else catches my eye here. Harrow says her eyes did not have such a startling transition, which helps confirm my theory that Harrow is suppressing or undid the Lyctor process.
Also using the power of Cringe, Harrow partially(?) undoes the paralysis spell done to her. “An emotion was playing out over her face that was- not unfamiliar to you- but nonsensical; you discarded it.” Eh? What emotion could this be referring to? Confusion over what Harrow did? Awe? Fear? All of the above?
OH okay before I forget, Harrow formed a bone hook inside of her to do that, and she made that bone sheath to hold on to the sword, so maybe her necromancy isn’t being suppressed? Well, maybe. That feels more... internal? Like she hasn’t grown any full ass skeletons from bone dust yet.
...Why is Harrow afraid of telling Mercymorn her actual age? Why is the Body telling her to lie? Why fifteen??
Relief? That’s what flashed across Mercymorn’s face? Oh, duh, because Harrow did that and didn’t immediately die. Duh. Also she straight up said “hiss”? That is weird. Also, thinking back, it is weird there wasn’t an age requirement in the Lyctor trials. Also Mercymorn took Ianthe too???
“You’re not as pretty as Anastasia.” Anastasia being the member of the Ninth House listed with the Lyctors, but not as one of the Saints. Doing this liveread has its advantages, namely that I can remember shit that happened earlier! 
OH WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT. “AS Anastasia,” not “As Anastasia was.” Implying Anastasia’s still alive? Matches her name not being struck through in the Dramatis Personae, and Mercymorn said there were 3 OG Lyctors now. Which matches with Anastasia not having that line about being a Saint! I’ve connected the two dots!
Okay there’s a lot going on here. Why is this normal necromancer so fascinating to Ianthe and Harrow? What she’s doing is pretty dope to be fair. Mercymorn called Ianthe 12... which... huh. More on that in a second. First, I need to google what the fuck an animaphiliac is... probably in an incognito window. Oh, okay, it’s just a style of necromancy in this universe okay thank God. Mercymorn also said Ianthe wasn’t as attractive as Cyrus... which is weird... And it reminds Ianthe of being with Mummy... I assume she means her mother, comparing her to Coronabeth? Oof.
So, back to the lowballing age thing. Mercymorn assumes Ianthe is 12, probably  because she’s super old and has forgotten how mortals age. Harrow seems to have subconsciously picked up on this, which is why she lied about her age. I’m still in the camp of the Body being non-supernatural in origin. Yes, she has Gideon’s eyes, BUT, she spoke in the voice of Harrow’s mother and Aiglamene. SO, my theory is that the Body is a product of the trauma Harrow’s gone through, that’s kind of externalizing Harrow’s inner thought process. Like I said earlier, I’ve read Twig, and this is reminiscent of that.
OH hey we’re headed to the frontline apparently? Because 3 warships got shot down suddenly? Which begs the question I’ve had in the back of my mind since first picking up this series, who the fuck are they fighting??? Probably not Ressurection Beasts, given what we know about them. Other humans, probably? Dominicus (probably) isn’t Earth or humanity’s home planet. 
Okay, hold up. The Emperor is trying to get to the frontline now, Mercymorn wants him to return to “the Mithraeum”, which is presumably the capital of the Empire outside of the Dominicus system? Also, Emperor’s been on the ship for 80 years, and been away from the Mithraeum for 100... Once again, the math’s not adding up...
Okay, so God hugs Mercymorn, she freezes, he confirms that he is leaving, and that he knows exactly who shot down 3 warships???
Okay cool we’re not headed to the fronline, we’re headed to the Mithraeum, whatever the fuck that is.
Ohhh and the Cohort necromancer girl died, or committed suicide? And the Emperor brought her back? ...There’s a story there.
Ohhhh Mom and Dad are fighting.
OKAY ONCE AGAIN A LOT TO UNPACK HERE BUT THE MITHRAEUM CAN ONLY BE REACHED BY ONE MEANS???? AND IT MAY HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH BEING A LYCTOR???
...Hey. So. Here’s something. In the description of Mercy’s sword, it says it has a white knob at the end of, and I quote “-you didn’t know the exact technical word. It was a pommel though.” There’s a disconnect there, between Harrow’s knowledge, and the narrator’s knowledge. This has happened a few other times, like just a few pages ago, Harrow says a room is used for bodily functions, but the narrator jumps in and says no one in the universe would call it that, it’s a toilet. And this is going to sound kind of batshit, but like 6 years ago i was in to Undertale, and there was a popular theory that the narrator in that game was a separate character from the PC and... a lot of the points used in that theory kinda ring true here... even the use of second person narration...
So the narrator is a separate character from Harrow? Now, whether this narrator exists in-universe, or if this is a really cool stylistic choice, is another story. Right now I’m leaning towards... I don’t know. Well, hm. If the Body is a kind of externalization of Harrow’s inner thought process, maybe the narrator is an internalization? 
That makes no sense.
Something to keep in mind.
Anyway, the shuttle detaches. There’s a sort of irony, in God being tired of people martyring themselves for him, but giving a speech saying “hey if you die in my service I love you.”
OKAY I think we’re about to go faster than light using necromancy? This should be good. OH OKAY WE’RE TAKING A SHORTCUT THROUGH HELL. COOL.
...so what was their original method of faster than light travel that turned out to be unusable? did it have to do with neutrinos in italy?
okay I love Mercy and the Emperor’s dialogue here. Again, objectively, I’m sure they’re bad people who have committed several warcrimes... but the way they bicker is just hilarious.
I’m googling hyperpotamus, and i’m only getting other Harrow the Ninth livereads, so it appears to be a term made for the book. But I have a terrible feeling it’s a pun on hippopotamus.
There are so many quotes here that I absolutely love, including “said the Lord of the Nine Houses, who apparently existed within a complex power dynamic.”  and “The magma metaphor falls apart from here.” 
...Oh. Okay, serious time. Even at the very start, just post-Resurrection, two of the Lyctors fell to the Resurrection Beasts. Well, one died, and one was “removed from play.” Which sounds horrifying.
So we’re dipping into Hell because you can move fast there. Hell is full of angry ghosts. This explains the ghost ward. Lyctors have hacked the system, and so can kind of survive there. And we learn what happened to Cassiopeia, one of the deceased Lyctors. (Interestingly enough it says she baited physical portions of the Ressurection Beast. Not a beast. Nor is it given a number...)
ALright so entering the River physically sounds fucking horrifying. I’m very glad we only have to do it this once and it definitely won’t come back later in the book nope definitely not.
“and that you felt alone in your head.” ;_;
Chapter 7
Sixth House icon.
There’s not a lot to say here, besides how freaky this is. How much do you want to bet that the faint wail Harrow hears is coming from the coffin with Cyntherea’s body?
JOHN. GOD’S NAME IS JOHN?? #NAME LORE UNLOCKED. IM JUST SO HAPPY I FINALLY HAVE A WAY TO REFER TO HIM WITHOUT STRUGGLING TO SPELL EMPORER EVERY FUCKIN TIME.
Also, Mercymorn knowing his like actual human name further implies some stuff about the timeline of the Ressurection, which I was wondering about previously... but that’s a discussion for later because Harrow’s in Hell!
Not a lot to say here besides 
fuck.
A few things. One. I think they’re going to get out of this okay? And by okay I mean alive? We know Ianthe, the Emperor, and Harrow live up to the point of the Prologue, and I don’t think Mercymorn is going to die already. 
Two. Cassiopeia was from the Sixth House, going by her Cavalier’s last name, which explains the chapter icon.
Three. The lights? The last page or so is very metaphorical, but, at the beginning it says Harrow perceived herself as a “sickly radiance”, and that she perceived the others on the ship as a light as well. She later said she was an “ova cluster of two hundred pinpricks of light.” So I think in this deep part of the River Harrow accidentally sent herself to, souls (maybe?) are displayed as lights. Harrow’s own soul is literally made up of the hundreds of dead House Nine kids, which is. Spooky. But then, at the end, when they jump out of the River, they bring 5 lights with them. So... either something hitched a ride with them, or it has something to do with Harrow suppressing Gideon and the Lyctor ritual. Everyone else on the ship has undergone the Lyctor ritual (or something similar, in John’s case), and they only have 1 light each. At least to Harrow’s eyes. BRUH IDK WHAT”S GOING ON. 
Chapter 8
No further answers here, this is a flashback chapter! So, sheared skull = flashback. And this chapter is going to feature the Fourth House, apparently. Who was Fourth House again? Oh no it was the kids. Oh no. ;_;
So, we are continuing through Harrow’s re-imagination of the events of Canaan House, with her Ortus OC in tow.
Of course Harrow is overwhelmed by normal tea, and of course Harrow thinks dressing up skeletons is stupid. 
AND of course Harrow would have a private prayer wishing doom on anyone that looks at her with any kind of emotion.
Hold up, the Anastasian tomb? Reserved for warriors? And presumably derived from the word Anastasia, the mysterious not-Lyctor of the Ninth House?? 
I can already tell Anastasia is going to become my Pepe Silvia. 
Ohhh this is going to be a lore bomb about the timeline of the Ressurection and I’m going to need to pull out my copy of Gideon the Ninth to see if any of this shit actually happened. 
TEN? TEN NORMAL ASS HUMANS? AND FIVE NECROMANCERS?? BUT THERE WERE SEVEN LYCTORS. THE MATH DOES NOT CHECK OUT.
Okay so I checked and none of this shit actually happened! In fact, Teacher actually said there were 16, 8 necromancers, 8 cavaliers. Where the fuck is Harrow getting 10 from? Who knows! And rather than explicitly saying “hey check out the basement labs to see how to become a Lyctor,” Teacher actually said fuck if I know. Not actually. But still.
Oh of course it’s called the Sleeper!! I had Kill Bill sirens playing in my head when I first read that. 
So,  had a whole ass monologue here, but this is already very long and im sleepy, so to very quickly summarize, the Parahumans series had an entity known as the Sleeper that was intentionally very mysterious and raised a lot of questions amongst fans, and the fact that there’s another entity here known as the Sleeper is flooding me.
So, I’m spooked. Again, this entire conversation did not actually happen. Teacher’s dialogue is precious. “go where I durst not go: because I love my life, and I love noise, also.” and “I do not know the answers to any of these questions, only that, already, you are being too loud.”
So, the rest of the chapter plays out with Ortus complaining to Harrow. Intriguingly, he says that Harrow doesn’t have much of an imagination, when she says there was no one else to choose as her Cavalier... And then one of the skeletons says, “Is this how it happens?” harkening back to Parodos, when the Body says something similar. There’s a lot to unpack here. One, like I said previously, because Ortus, and apparently the entirety of Canaan House, is a product of Harrow’s mind, they can maybe give some insight into Harrow herself. However, the fact that Ortus seems to break character and chastise her for her lack of imagination is... I don’t know.
Okay, theory time. “The Work” alluded to in the letters is not only the suppression of Lyctor-hood, it’s also the erasure of Gideon, and the creation of these false memories. Meaning Lyctor!Harrow somehow crafted them; there was conscious effort behind it. Which means we can totally pick these scenes apart to gain further insight into Harrow! The skeleton and the Body asking if this is what happened, and Ortus breaking character (maybe) are her subconscious breaking through... Maybe that ties into my idea of the narrator being an internalization or compartmentalization of Harrow’s trauma? Hmm...
Chapter 9
Seventh House skull, and not a flashback. I’m guessing this is because we’re going to inter Cyntherea’s body here.
Okay, so time seems to have passed. IDK how much of the River Harrow remembers here. It seems like she recalls it like a bad dream. Ianthe’s here, and they’re in a chapel made of bone. Or at least one absolutely covered in bone. 
Here’s a question. The necromancy Harrow excels at, that’s creating a whole ass skeleton from a single bit of bone. Is she actually creating a new skeleton? Or is she reforming one. Like if she had two teeth from the same skeleton, could she use that to make two new skeletons? In the last chapter the Ressurection was described as not creating anything new... does that apply to all of necromancy, or just what the Emperor did?
Also another side note, Harrow says the stars glow with an unearthly light, which matches what the Emperor said, that they restarted the stars near the Mithraeum with thanergy, so they’re weird now. Except... wasn’t Dominicus restarted the same way? Or is the Dominicus system a hybrid of thanergy and thalergy? I’m getting my energies mixed up.
Anyway yep it’s Cyntherea’s funeral, and Harrow is checking the fuck out.
Okay we have a new Lyctor... and I’m guessing it’s Augustine, since he and Mercymorn are fighting.  
Okay and John’s giving a speech and giving more lore about the pre-Ressurrection and it’s confirmed that this guy is Augustine and-
First gen? Second gen? Sixth installation?? Valancy? ANASTASIA?
bruh im so flooded and this is supposed to be such a reverent moment.
Ohhh this is awkward now that they’re pulling Ianthe and Harrow forward. Okay we get a formal introduction to Mercymorn and Augustine. Augustine trails off before the third... and asks if he, the third surviving Lyctor, knows about the missile strikes...Is the third Lyctor the one leading the people who shot down the warships, which is sounding increasingly like a rebellion rather than a battle against others? Who’s the third again ah fuck it’s ORTUS.
ORTUS is apparently interested in “you-know-what”. Which I don’t know what. Please elaborate. 
ORTUS is here and he’s skeletal. OH AND SO IS RESSURECTION BEAST NUMBER SEVEN.
FUCK.
(bruh what the fuck is a pseudo-Beast)
Okay yep time to fight an eldritch god.
Speaking of which, God’s name is John confirmed.
And Harrow bled from the ear and fell unconscious, hearing the name ORTUS.
Chapter 10
Pog we’re almost done with part 1. Fifth skull, sheared, so it’s flashback time. 
I don’t recognize immediately where we are; apparently this is in the library in Canaan House? Though I don’t remember one from Gideon the Ninth. We see a bit of personality from Ortus, when he complains about Fifth House poetry, which is nice. 
Oh, wait, never mind, that was Magnus speaking. Ortus remains as boring as ever.
Hehehehe dick jokes.
Hey so no fake vow of silence in the false memories of Canaan House! That’s interesting. As is Magnus and Abagail being here, and them being pretty fleshed out characters. As are these cooking instructions from the Lyctors...
HOOOOOOOLD the phone here. The cooking notes mention an M and Nigella... which was the first name of Cassiopeia’s cavalier... How would Harrow know that? The easy explanation is that this is a note that Harrow actually found, and is placing here in her fake memories... The other explanation is that something funky is afoot...
Ooohkay Magnus is asking if this is how it happens now. The simulation is breaking down. AND ABAGAIL CAN TELL THAT HARROW IS A LIVING WAR CRIME. PANIC.
Okay now we’re getting Ortus emotion! He is a grown ass man Harrow. At least, he would be, were he not a figment of Harrow’s imagination.
HEEEEY
WHAT THE FUUUUCK
WE’RE CONTINUING ON THIS DYING EGGS THING
PROBABLY WILL BE RELEVANT LATER.
Okay and the simulation breaks down further when Ortus says “you did have a cavalier with a backbone, I’m not them.” Interestingly enough, it’s hours later Harrow realizes something’s weird... Huh...
Chapter 11
Seventh House skull.
Literally just a paragraph saying Harrow sleepwalked and stabbed Cyntherea’s body.
...She sleep walked... the Sleeper from the fake Canaan House...
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