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#this isn’t a very In Depth discussion of my thoughts sorry i need to spend more time in this seasons nooks and crannies

daydreamerdrew · 2 years

Note

Do you have any thoughts specifically on Captain Marvel Junior’s origin story (Whiz Comics #25)?

Hey! Sorry I didn’t get to this sooner, but I’m revisiting Freddy’s origin issue now that I’m planning on properly reading some of his Golden Age comics in preparation for watching the Elvis movie! So here are some various musings:

I read Captain Marvel Jr. be referred to as the first important spin-off character in comics, which would make Whiz Comics #25, published in 1941, the first comic book to introduce such a character.

I haven’t really read any other comparable spin-off character introduction issues from this era, but unlike Mary Marvel, whose origin was told in Captain Marvel Adventures #18 and then who also appeared in Captain Marvel Adventures #19 to promote her cover feature at Wow Comics, Freddy just appeared in that one issue of Whiz Comics with Billy before his tenure at Master Comics. However, this appearance did come at the end of a crossover event between Whiz Comics and Master Comics, the storyline that culminated in his origin having issues in both. Also, Mary appears on the cover of her origin issue, while Freddy does not. And Mary’s issue does more to establish her backstory than Freddy’s does, it seems that by the end of 1942 they had refined the process a bit.

I think if this kind of issue were published today, the story would show a brief look at Freddy and his grandfather before they are attacked by Captain Nazi. His origin had this in The Power of Shazam! (1995). Instead, Whiz Comics #25 begins like any other Captain Marvel story and we are dropped into Freddy’s life as it is being changed forever.

This issue was impactful on the Marvel Family’s mythos in many ways, including bringing the Wizard Shazam back into having an active role, when he originally wasn’t intended to appear after he first gave Billy powers. I’m a fan of the Wizard Shazam and his dynamic with the kids, so that’s real special to me <3

I like how, when Billy is telling the Wizard Shazam about what’s happened and that he has to help Freddy somehow, the panel’s narration reads “Billy, himself, was only a poor starving newsboy before Shazam gave him the power to become Captain Marvel.” I like this connection between how Billy and Freddy weren’t in good circumstances before receiving the power of Shazam, something that isn’t the case for Mary. For her it’s more of an opportunity for adventure and to do more good, whereas it’s a bit more serious for Billy and Freddy, which isn’t traditionally how Billy is framed in what discussions I’ve seen.

I also really like Captain Marvel telling Junior, “[...] whenever you need me, speak my name and as Captain Marvel Jr. you will be able to do the things I do.” Later on the Marvel Family develops so that there is a Marvel Family group and they regularly team-up in The Marvel Family, but I don’t believe that that was originally foreseen. When there is a team, they’re all capable enough to, and do, hold their own, but they also spend time together for fun and work together to defeat bigger threats. For now though, I think the sentiment of ‘if you need me, call on my name and receive my powers to handle yourself’ is sweet.

I don’t feel that we get a real in-depth look at Freddy’s personality in this issue. We see how he carries himself in the boat with his grandpa and then how he reacts when his grandfather is killed, and then he’s unconscious until the very last page when he becomes Captain Marvel Jr. Though, Freddy Freeman is already being drawn more realistic than Billy Batson in this issue, so that, and the intense events, give an indication of tone.

A random note, I like how when Captain Nazi kills Freddy’s grandpa, Freddy immediately picks up an oar to attack Captain Nazi with, a detail that was maintained when the story was revisited in the early 80s in the E. Nelson Bridwell and Don Newton run.

#dc #fawcett comics #marvel family #freddy freeman #billy batson #my posts #inbox

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phantom-of-innaovitch · 2 years

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I'm curious about your AU about stripekit and brookkit, could you tell us more about it?

Alrighty! Apologies for the late answer, I originally went really in depth before I realized my ideas were far too scrambled and didn’t make much sense. It also got deleted (yay for mobile tumblr!) But again I’m sorry.

I’m gonna put the AU under the cut cause there’s Spoilers for River in here!

This AU is based on speculation for the newest arc, but I’m calling it an au since it’s WindClan centric. With all the theories floating around about who killed Reedwhisker and possibly left the sign for Curlfeather, I was curious about in universe theories. By that I mean, what answers the characters in the books would come up with. At the end of River, Mothwing makes it clear that RiverClan can’t hide what’s happened anymore and they need help. So I’m guessing she’s either going to tell everyone at the gathering, or just tell each clans leader, deputy and medicine cats of their situation.

If Mothwing does choose to only share with each clans authorities, Whistlepaw would be present at that meeting. I’m sure she’d be scared after hearing that, scared for her Clan as well as for Frostpaw. She would be most likely sworn to secrecy while Harestar Crowfeather and Kestrelflight discussed what to do about the situation and what precautions to take. As days go by Whistlepaw becomes more and more nervous, lost in thought. She seems antsy when cats are gone for too long on patrol, is nervous to go to the half moon meeting, and has been spending a lot more time around her siblings, Songleap and Flutterfoot. Whistlepaw’s mother, Featherpelt, would definitely have noticed this change in her behaviour. So one night Featherpelt talks to Whistlepaw alone about what’s troubling her. And Whistlepaw tells her everything, unable to keep her fears in any longer.

At around this time, Brookkit and Stripekit turn six moons, and are given their mentors. Brookpaw being given to Slightfoot and Stripepaw to Featherpelt. The two new paws are excited to be apprentices, but also feel sad. For some headcannon time, I imagine Fernstripe was an older sibling figure for them. She often watched them as kits when their mother went out hunting or on patrol, coming up with fun games for them to play. In River, Fernstripe requested to join ThunderClan to be with Shellfur. But here she hadn’t left yet, as she wanted to at least stay to see Brookpaw and Stripepaw’s apprentice ceremony.

Fernstripe leaves the next day, giving a tearful goodbye to her clan before starting towards her new life. Featherpelt watches her go, worried for her new future. By the time the gathering rolls around, Brookpaw and Stripepaw are excited to see her again but when they arrive… they find she isn’t there.

In fact, she never made it to ThunderClan.

The au doesn’t have too much clear sustenance after this point, if that makes sense. But essentially, Brookpaw and Stripepaw are determined to find out what happened to her. Them being so young, they have very active imaginations, but sometimes that’s not a bad thing. Sometimes the ideas that seem the craziest might just be what pushes you towards the truth.

#We know literally nothing about Fernstripe other than her terrible taste in men so I decided to give her a personality #again I’m really sorry about the delay #I hope this made sense haha #ask #wc #warrior cats #a starless clan #asc #windclan #whistlepaw #brookkit #stripekit #featherpelt #larkwing #fernstripe #slightfoot #wc au #river spoilers

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div-divington · 3 years

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big ol’ invicncible spoilers, watch the show first trust me you’re not missing anything if you don’t read this post

I’ve never talked about a cartoon or tv show before but I’ve gotta say that people who say there’s ‘no complexity’ to Omni-Man’s character just tick me off.

I mean, listen, he’s totally a villain at least in the cartoon adaptation (I’ve not read the comics, going to consider them separate entities for the sake of argument), but he’s far from a two dimensional sussus amogus imposter blindly readying the planet for invasion.

I whole-heartedly believe that Omni-Man enjoyed being a superhero, saving lives. I believe his friendship with the tailor guy was real, I believe he respected, admired even, the Guardians of the Globe, cherished his relationship with Debbie, and enjoyed living among humans. The brief interaction with Darkwing and The Immortal when the Mauler Twins attack the White House is so sincere right? Like, it seems to me he respects them, the jokey “you’re welcome” when he saved Darkwing, the “I had him” when he saved the guard Immortal was going for, that wasn’t necessary of him. He had no real reason to be playful and cordial with them, he could have been distant and still gained their trust easily (I mean, Darkwing was a jerk and they loved him). The brief moment of shock and unresponsiveness when Mark revealed that he’d finally gotten his powers? I honestly believe that was a moment of disbelief. I think he hoped Mark’s powers wouldn’t manifest, hoped he wouldn’t have to continue his mission. That pause was him coming to terms with the end of things. The realization that he would have to hurt people he respected, finish his mission, and end his time as a father, author, and superhero.

When he collapses after murdering the Guardians of the Globe, the look on his face isn’t just exhaustion from the fight, it looks to me like shock. Disbelief. I don’t think he wanted to kill the Guardians, I think he hated doing it, but it’s what he was bred for. He was born and trained from childhood for thousands of years to weaken a planet from within, prepare it for invasion. Earth had superheroes, naturally a pretty noteworthy obstacle for an invasion, so he, in his mind, had no choice but to kill them. And notice that most of his kills are pretty... clean? He goes right for Immortal’s head, ditto with Aquaris and Green Ghost, snaps War Woman’s neck, kills Darkwing in one clean move, tears off Martian Man’s heart(? is that a heart?), crushes Red Rush’s head (which seems slow because of Red Rush’s perception of time being RIDICULOUS compared to our own, that horrific scene only lasted like a second for the rest of the characters). He goes for quick, clean kills, minimizing pain. Maybe its just brutal, soldier-like efficiency, since the greatest superheroes on Earth cannot be allowed to get any good hits in (they nearly killed him as it was), but what if it was a desire to not prolong the suffering of people he genuinely liked?

We see in the flashback towards the end (during the THINK, MARK, THINK! scene lmao) that he initially didn’t give two shits about humanity on a deep level. He loved and respected Debbie and his then-very-young son, but thought humans were, on a whole, primitive and dumb. But as he spends time observing them, watching their culture, interacting with them, living with them, he warms up to them. The smile on his face when Mark hits his first homerun in little league, remembering Debbie’s favourite foods, the way he laughs when he mentions how a superhero had to meet the president in a plaid supersuit, the fishing photograph with the tailor. Even after he finally reveals himself as an infiltrator, the way he talks, to me, shows respect for his adversaries even as he demeans and belittles humanity. The discussion with Cecil, the warning to ‘stay out of this’. Nolan seems reluctant to kill anybody he doesn’t have to, and seemingly acknowledges that the Global Defense Agency at the very least is a minor threat.

So, you say, why does he act so AWFUL at times?

Well, his seeming lack of emotion after the funerals for the Guardians of the Globe can proooooooooooooobably be chalked up to his alien psychology. He finished grieving, he didn’t see the harm in cracking jokes about them. Calling Debora a ‘pet’? I think that honestly would be him trying to rationalise his feelings for her. There’s a fraction of a second where he hesitates to say it, and I honestly think he’s just trying to explain to himself how he could ever love a ‘lesser lifeform’. Killing all those innocent people? In his mind that was justified to get through to Mark. He doesn’t enjoy it -- though he also doesn’t dislike it -- he just sees it as a flat necessity, no less insignificant than killing a bug (i said the man is a complex character, I didn’t say he wasn’t evil).

Don’t forget, Nolan’s genuine reasoning for bringing Earth into the Viltrum Empire is to help it. He argues that Viltrum technology can end hunger and poverty, end crime, revolutionize medicine. In his eyes, his indoctrinated eyes, he’s doing the right thing to help the people of Earth.

He still thinks he’s the hero.

‘it’s right to pity them’.

He sees humans as lesser creatures, he thinks they need protection from themselves, need to be brought up by the Viltrumites to be better. They can’t survive on their own, they’re weak and soft, they need us to reach their full potential, to find true glory in serving the might of Viltrum. Omni-Man does not see his actions as evil, he thinks he’s the good guy. He reluctantly kills the Guardians of the Globe, slaughters thousands of people, and destroys a city in order to, in his extremely twisted sense of morality, help people.

And, in the end, it is not the Viltrumite parts of Omni-Man and Invincible that end the conflict. It is Mark’s very human belief that he will, one day, get through to his dad. His refusal to give in, his undying love and determination to save people, save Nolan. It’s this that reaches Omni-Man. It doesn’t reach the tough soldier he had been for thousands of years, it reaches the small part of Omni-Man that wasn’t pretending to be human. The part that is Nolan Grayson. The part that, despite still seeing them as primitive and inferior, likes humanity. It’s a human tear that leaves his eye as Nolan flies away from Earth, finally giving up and refusing to facilitate the invasion if it means killing his son, something a full Viltrumite wouldn’t hesitate to do for a second if their family got in the way of their conquest. He was changed by his time with humans.

I’m not defending Omni-Man, he’s obviously a bad guy, an antagonist, serving a genuinely evil empire, but i AM saying he isn’t some flat, boring two dimensional villain who just PRETENDED to like humanity for the twenty odd years he spent living there. I’ve seen people in youtube comments replying with “I think you misunderstand Omni-Man as a character, you see, he was simply pretending to not hate humanity, it was all an elaborate ruse, there’s no real depth and inner terminal in him at all uwu” but i think THEY misunderstand Omni-Man.

He’s not morally grey, he’s arguably not even redeemable, but he IS a complex and well written character and boiling him down to ONLY being an evil alien who tricked people into liking him just rubs me the wrong way.

but idk maybe I misunderstood him and he really IS flat and boring. Maybe his time with humanity didn’t change him at all, he isn’t emotionally conflicted, and he’s just less cool than I thought.

And despite my seeming passive aggressive language, it’s totally chill if you disagree with my personal interpretation of Omni-Man as a character, art is meant to be a unique experience for everyone, so if you see him completely differently to me that’s great! I just dislike the insistence from some people online that anybody who sees him as a deeper, more complicated character is just wrong.

also sorry for this post coming out of left field entirely lmao

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pointnumbersixteen · 3 years

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How do you see The Captain's coming out, and growth in confidence and self acceptance thereafter taking place?

I like this question! …and I’m probably going to elaborate on it a bit more than many people will want to read (I noticed back when I was regularly writing essay length posts that they did not get a lot of love) and it’s probably going to get even more ramble-y than usual (brain has not been braining as cooperatively as it should recently and the decision to drink half a bottle of wine right before answering this- sorry- probably does not help), but here we are.

About coming out scenarios, none of mine are particularly elaborate. While I do think he needs to come out for his story line to progress, I can’t imagine him making a big thing out of it (long or elaborate announcements, heart-to-hearts, emotional displays of bearing his authentic self or any of the like), either with the group, or person-by-person, for several reasons:

First off, that sort of a coming-out to-do is a more modern notion, and I doubt he was a particularly modern person even when he was alive, seventy-five years ago. His notions of privacy and propriety are probably much more conservative than ours, and I feel like that makes it unlikely that he’d go into any sort of detail, at least at early in this process, about his feelings/emotions or the specificities of his attractions. We’re talking about a man who doesn’t even use his own name. It’s difficult to picture him going into depth about his desires and love life.

Secondly, he’s a bit of a social coward. (He’s not a physical coward, of course, he jumped on that bomb in the garden without hesitation, and acknowledged after the fact that he gotten caught up in the moment, and therefore hadn’t really thought about how a bomb couldn’t hurt him.) And I get it, I’m a bit of a social coward, too, so no judgement. He probably faced a lot of ridicule in his life. Being a social coward is totally fair. But he doesn’t put himself into situations that might involve awkward interpersonal interactions if he can help it, and legs it whenever interactions he’s already in become to awkward for him. I feel like he’s probably quite desperate (although he’d never admit to it) to save face and protect what bits of his ego remain unscathed.

Think about it: he could have spoken to Fanny on his own about her nightly screaming disturbing him in s1e1, they have a clear association established at the outset of the show, they leave Heather’s room together at the end of the very first scene, but he doesn’t do so until he has the weight of the whole group to back him up about the screaming at their meeting. He had to buck up his courage and give himself his little ‘over the top we go’ pep talk before going to speak to Alison in Gorilla War. Also, if there was actually something wrong with his soldiers’ horseplay after hours in Reddy Weddy- if it was breaking regulations or even his own orders for quiet hours- and he heard it, he could have gone down directly when he heard it, confronted whoever was involved and order them to stop or put them on report. But no, instead he addressed the entire group of soldiers in a sixteen point morning brief. He even dispatched Pat to confront Alison about the party in s2e2, instead doing it himself… and spit out his apology/reconciliation with Pat at the end as fast as possible. And as for legging it when things get awkward, see his retreats following the group confronting him in Getting Out and after Alison telling him he wasn’t needed in the Grey Lady- and on a more figurative than literal level, but most relevantly, his quick turn from ‘I’ll miss you’ to ‘we’ll miss you’ with Havers in Reddy Weddy.

This is not a man who wants to be in awkward or embarrassing situations. And I think that coming out, at least at first, will probably be a bit embarrassing for him- it was scandalous in his time, and I think it will take him longer to get over that feeling and come to terms with himself than it will to finally acknowledge that he’s gay. So I doubt he’d make more of it than he utterly feels he has to, at least at first. And of course, he’d have to be a bit afraid that people would judge him or stop associating with him over it, as sadly, in his own time many people would have done, and most of the ghosts are from even earlier times than he was. So that might add more hesitation…

And thirdly, he doesn’t like and/or respect many of his house mates. The other twentieth century ghosts are the only ones he spends much time with. I doubt he’d go out of his way to communicate much of anything to the rest if it wasn’t “mission related” much less discuss his sexuality with them. He mostly disregards Humphrey. See his, “Oh, it’s you.” Mary obviously doesn’t like him and he only associates with her when it might be useful for his ‘missions.’ He clearly doesn’t think much of Thomas and doesn’t really even bother including him in his plans. These aren’t people he’s going to have heart-to-hearts with.

With those constraints in place, here’s a non-exhaustive list of possibilities by which I might see his coming out finally happening. They’re really just scenarios I made for myself on how I might see him coming out and I like to keep my options open (the first three are strategies he might go for, the last is an alternate scenario, presented in decreasing levels of directness on his part):

1) The ‘pull the bandage off quickly and hope it doesn’t sting too much’ strategy.

The Captain waits for the end of one of their various group activities or meetings, where all announcements seem to be made, gets up, clears his throat, stammers a bit, announces it tersely, using the most proper popular word for homosexuality that existed in his time (think: “Heh-hem. Er. Um. Well. It has recently come to my attention that I am- er- well- as it happens- gay. I, uh, thought it should be noted. That is all.”), and then beats a hasty retreat, so he doesn’t have to try to cope with the potentially negative aftermath. Of course, there isn’t a negative aftermath, because many of the ghosts already have guessed and the rest don’t really care. Someone, probably Pat, because he does the bulk of the emotional labor in the group, and more importantly, he’s Cap’s closest friend, would have to go after him. He would of course be initially defensive, and Pat would have to sooth his feathers a bit- or maybe just spit it out over his defensiveness- that he guessed a long time ago and so had plenty of other people, and they were just waiting for him to be ready, and really, it’s fine, and no one’s going to disown him for it.

2) The ‘well maybe I should tell my friends with the hope they support me’ strategy.

He gets together with a small group, the people whose company he actually values, definitely Fanny and Pat, maybe Julian, probably Alison either at the same time or after he finishes with his ghosts pals, and says it in much the same way as the previous scenario, but waiting for their reactions rather than retreating straight away. Pat and Alison, I expect, would answer with something like ‘yeah, we figured that one out a long time ago, actually, and it’s completely fine’ and Julian’s reaction would probably be something like, ‘well, obviously.’ Fanny’s had a lot of character growth since season one, when I expect her reaction would have been very shrill and judgmental, probably still would be a touch less warm and/or nonchalant, but I picture it as something like a sigh, followed by a pat on the arm and something like, ‘well, I still like you better than everyone else here, anyway.’ Word would eventually trickle to everyone else by way of social osmosis. Or not. No one seems to care if Humphrey or the plague ghosts are well informed.

3) The ‘I’m not brave enough to actually go through the process of actually telling anyone anything about me so let’s just drop hints and hope everyone figures it out without making a big deal about it’ strategy.

The indirect approach (I’m rather fond of this one, but mostly because it was my own primary coming out approach)… he first sends out feelers to certain people on the topic of homosexuality, probably Alison, since she’s modern, hosted a lesbian wedding, and very much implied that she’d be ready to keep scandalous secrets for him in Reddy Weddy, and possibly maybe also Julian, as he’s the most sexually experienced/knowledgeable, and after Alison spent a while inundating him with ‘it’s okay to be gay’ messages (along with a sudden and entirely unexplained influx of LGBT media) as she’s socially clever enough to see that’s what he’s looking for and after Julian spent a while telling him probably far more than he ever actually wanted to know about the potentialities of gay sex, that might boost the Captain’s confidence enough to let him start dropping hints to people, instead of telling them outright (consciously commenting on the attractiveness of men they see rather than occasionally accidentally blurting it out- see ‘the handsome one’- occasionally putting forth an opinion or stance on the LGBT world ‘it would have been nice if gay marriage was acceptable when I was alive,’ maybe occasionally mentioning how certain men would make cute couple), expecting them to meet him in the middle and figure out the point on their own… of course, many of them have already realized, so this isn’t a problem. It’s entirely possible, though, that Mary (world view not terribly grounded in reality) and Kitty (lack of life experience and/or instruction about life, see the how are babies made subplot) never pick up the hints on their own and someone else eventually has to tell them.

4) The ‘someone puts him out of his misery’ scenario.

Cap acknowledges to himself that he’s gay first and then, wishing to avoid embarrassment or lack of acceptance, obviously, awkwardly, painfully tries to disguise it and in doing so draws attention to it, until a third party decides to put him out of his misery and tell him that many of them figured it out ages ago and that everyone is fine with it. Maybe Pat. Maybe Alison. I kind of like the idea of it being Fanny (with her lovely character growth and her couple of suspicious glances his way in the Perfect Day), actually, by way of something like ‘You know, I was entirely prepared to continue on living with my husband, George, keeping his secrets, about the, uh, sort of person he was, and you’re at least one better than him, given that you at least never murdered me- or, for that matter, never married some poor woman you had no interest in to shield yourself from scrutiny… and so, what I’m saying is, I wouldn’t turn my back on you for being the, uh, sort of person you are, either, and maybe things have progressed enough that you don’t actually have to keep secrets at all.’ Cap would take all of this in with a mixture of mortification and relief. I’m rather fond of this scenario, too.

As for the second bit of the question, once his sexuality is out there, though, and no one judges him or hates him for it- and some are quite supportive- I do see him becoming more self-accepting. If no one’s judging him, does he need to judge himself so harshly? And also more confident. Because some of those things that he’s always felt different about and in the past has probably been ridiculed about in the past (even if he’s in denial about being gay, he and quite a few other people had to at the very least note that he’s not particularly interested in women), are, apparently just fine now. So he’s a bit more just fine now himself. And that weight of always trying to be someone else, someone who’s just right, can lift and he can relax a bit more. And that would probably help him a lot, too. I see it as a slow sort of thawing process. No matter what way he comes out, I still see Alison as very helpfully providing a variety of LGBT media to help this process along. And maybe he’d eventually get to the point where he processed enough and warmed up enough to be able to talk more in depth, at least with his friends, about what it was like being him in repressed pre-war Britain, and what sort of men he’s attracted to (I enjoy the idea of him and Fanny- gradually overcoming her own repression- scoping out hot men together). Maybe he’ll even luck out one of his male housemates will decide (or has already decided) that bisexuality is a valid option and he’ll get a date (insert whichever ghost y’all ship him with here). I bet Alison would totally help him set up a nice date, too, with her convenient still-functional-in-the-mortal-realm hands. And it would be nice to maybe see him get a taste of actual happiness.

#bbc ghosts #the captain #coming out #sorry for the giant block of text friends #i find it difficult to help myself

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chaoticpuff17 · 3 years

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Suga We’re Going Down

Part 4

Masterlist

Y/N stared at the lawyers. Everything they said went straight over her head though it didn’t seem to bother Yoongi. They were his layers after all. They’d probably already gone over the contract with him in detail, something Y/N did not have the advantage of doing. She just didn’t have the time or the money to hire her own lawyers to look over it.

It felt odd going over a contract for what would essentially be a relationship. It felt clinical, but in a way that was good. She wanted that professional distance. This wasn’t romantic. They weren’t dating. She wanted, needed, that line firmly drawn in the sand. This was not a forever situation.

Thankfully, the lawyers were patient with her, answering all of her hesitant questions, making notes if she wanted something changed. Yoongi seemed to find it cute. Every time the lawyers looked at him to confirm a change, he would nod, the barest hint of a smile pulling at his lips. He was surprisingly gracious about it all. He agreed to every slight change to the contract she wanted to make.

“Now, Mr. Min will be providing a car and driver for your transportation.”

“That really isn’t necessary…”

“It’s non-negotiable.” Yoongi interrupted leveling the lawyers with a hard glare. He wanted her to be safe, and a driver would help with that. It would also provide him with access to her 24/7.

“Of course, Mr. Min.” The lawyer nodded. “There is also the wardrobe budget that Mr. Min will be providing.”

She was about to protest that as well, but Yoongi beat her to it. “Also non-negotiable.”

The lawyer nodded humming in understanding. “And the amount of times per week is alright with the both of you? Three times a week with other meetings interspersed as requested and can be accomodated by Miss Kang given her schedule?”

They both nodded.

“I’m sorry,” She interrupted softly. “It’d like it to be in there that my home is off limits for meetings. I’m willing to meet him wherever he would like, but I’d like to keep my home, well, mine. If that would be alright.” The last bit was added on as a rushed after thought her eyes wide as she looked from Yoongi to the lawyers.

The lawyers looked to Yoongi who nodded. “I’m fine with that.”

“Excellent.” The man smiled making a note on the contract. “There is something else we need to discuss.” Both Y/N and Yoongi turned to look at him attentively. “We need to establish the boundaries of your more… intimate relations.” The man informed them looking vaguely uncomfortable.

Yoongi perked up, but Y/N shrunk back in her seat feeling suddenly very small. She knew they had to discuss it, but that didn’t make it any less awkward for her.

She looked to Yoongi waiting for him to speak, waiting to see what was expected for her.

Just as her eyes were fixed on him, his were fixed on her, assessing, calculating. Of course Yoongi planned to have her in every way, but he needed to know how far he could push her and how quickly. If he went too far too fast, he could lose her entirely. She was a cautious creature. One wrong move on his part and she would bolt.

He had to suppress a grin watching how serious her eyes were, the way her hands trembled slightly. The poor thing. She looked out of her depth. She was, of course, but she would never know just how far out of her depth she was. Yoongi had everything drafted up perfectly. None of her requests interfered with his plans. They were reasonable requests from a reasonable girl. Allowances for school. Keeping her home a safe space. He could let her have her space for now, until she was more comfortable with him. Besides, he planned on spending most of their time together in his own home.

“Nothing weird?” She requested fidgeting uncomfortably and refusing to make eye contact.

“Weird?” He asked quirking a brow curiously.

“Like…” Her tone was unsure and her eyes wide. A blush made its way up her neck and stained her cheeks red as well. “Oh God…I… I honestly don’t know…”

Realization come over Yoongi leaving him stunned for a moment, before a deep sense of satisfaction took its place. She was a virgin. His sweet little muse was untouched just for him as if she couldn’t get any more perfect. No wonder she was so uncomfortable, the poor thing.

She wouldn’t have to be for long though. No one else would ever touch her. He would make sure of that. She was his sweet muse, untouched by the world, and he was going to keep her by his side no matter what. He knew the transition would be a little uncomfortable, but he was willing to help her through that if it meant having her by his side.

“We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.” He assured her finding her panic cute.

“But you would be open to a sexual relationship?” One of the lawyers asked, pen held at the ready to make the necessary changed.

“Yes.” She had to hold back her cringe as the word left her. She hoped Halmeoni could forgive her for this. She hoped she could forgive herself.

“Then you would be fine with confirming birth control? Mr. Min is willing to pay for whichever method of contraceptive you choose to use.”

“That’s fine as well.” She murmured too embarrassed to meet anyone’s eye. She felt all of two inches tall. How could everyone else treat this like it was normal? It was all so foreign to her, but hey were completely un-phased.

“Excellent. Could you sign here?” He asked sliding the contract over to her, along with a pen. “That should be it on our end. We’ve already discussed the rules of this arrangement and the payment has already been decided. We should be ready to proceed unless you want to add anything else?”

“No.” She couldn’t help the way her fingers trembled a she reached for the pen, but she signed her name and placed her stamp never the less.

Yoongi signed and stamped after her before turning to face her with a gummy grin.

“I guess it’s official now.”

“I guess so.” Her own smile was much less enthusiastic. It was actually quite weak. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d signed her soul to the devil.

“Let me take you to dinner.” He offered standing from his seat.

She shook her head standing as well. “I can’t. I have other things to do today. Besides, it’s too early for dinner.” She shot him a shaky smile hoping to smooth over her refusal though the deadpan expression on his face wasn’t giving her much hope that she’d succeeded.

“Come on.” He placed a hand on her back and began ushering her out of the room despite her stuttered protests.

“Yoongi.”

“It’s one meal. A celebration of our new contract.” He loved the way her face scrunched up in concern as she thought it over. “We’ll do it eventually. Why not start now?” He shrugged gently placing her coat over her shoulders eyeing it with distaste. “This isn’t the coat I gave you.”

“No. It’s my coat.”

“The one I gave you is warmer.” He didn’t like how thin the coat she had looked, especially not when he had provided her with one of his own, one of his favorites.

“And it’ll be returned to you next time.” She shot back sighing in defeat as he ushered her into the elevator.

“You should keep it. I don’t like how thin that coat of yours looks.”

She huffed under her breath but didn’t argue further. She didn’t want to ruin this before it even started. She needed this money. She’d already spent the money from the first few meetings in her head. A new coat for Eun Jae before the weather got too cold. The first installment on her father’s debt. They needed to fix the stove at the restaurant as well. Not to mention her tuition.

“I’ve already arranged a car for you.” He placed a hand on her back and led her out of the elevator. “It’ll be at your disposal day and night.”

“I really don’t need…” “You do.” He argued glaring down at her gently. “It’s for your protection as well as convenience. Fans can be a little rabid, and I’d prefer to know that you were safe.”

“Only for meetings.” She relented as he led her towards the side entrance of Jin Hit.

“You’ll use it as much as you need to. It’s safer than the bus or the train.”

“You can’t make me take the car.” She shot back eyeing him with concern. A car just seemed like too much for a sugar baby. She hadn’t even done anything yet.

He paused turning to level her with another gentle glare. She knew they could be worse. Nina has showed her enough Agust D videos for her to know just how fierce he could look. He was going easy on her.

“Take the car. Even if you don’t want to use it, I’ll just have Jackson ready to pick you up anyway.” He shrugged. “He’ll just shadow you until you take it.”

She didn’t like the sound of that either. “I’m fine taking the bus.”

“But I’m not.” He looked at her eyes dark and unyielding as they both tried to decide which of them would be the first to yield. “For your safety and my peace of mind.” He grumbled leading her out of the building to the waiting car.

It was a dark SUV with the windows specially tinted for celebrity privacy with a driver waiting outside for them.

“This is Young Jae my driver.” He introduced.

“Ma’am.” The man nodded about to open the door for them, but Yoongi beat him to it. Like a gentlemen he opened the door for her and helped her inside following in right after her.

“Where are we going?” She asked as the car pulled away from Jin Hit.

“Out for an early dinner. I know you probably have studying to do.”

“I do.” She nodded fiddling with the strap of her bag.

“You never told me what you were studying.” That was true enough. He had never asked her, and she had never told him, but he knew anyway.

She looked at him in surprise. She had never thought that he would actually be interested in what she did outside of their arrangement. It wasn’t really in the nature of their relationship for him to care about what she did.

“Elementary Education. I want to be a teacher.”

“It suits you.” He hummed. “What do you do when you’re not studying?”

“I play the cello.” She admitted only a little hesitantly. Music was her passion after all. It was something that they shared, she supposed.

He smiled leaning back against his seat. “Classical?”

He pretended to be surprised. She didn’t know that he had watched her play before. She didn’t know that he knew a lot of things about her. If she knew how much he knew she would probably go running for the hills, not that she could. Not legally at least. He had had his lawyers slip a few surprises into the contract, hidden within the fine print. She was locked into the contract for at least a year. If she broke contract for any reason, she’d be responsible for paying out the contract, and the price was set at far more than she could afford, as well as a few other surprises.

He had his tricks to keep her close. She was a sweet little songbird, but she was skittish, wary of him. She was too sweet for the arrangement she had gotten herself into, but Yoongi was determined to keep her safe. She would always be safe with him.

“Yeah.” She agreed. She did love classical music, but it was fun from time to time to play more modern adaptations. Those were usually easier on the piano though. It was easier to find piano sheet music than cello for pop or rock songs, and she just didn’t have the time to go about transcribing sheet music for the cello, so she stuck to the classics for the most part.

“Never any Agust D?” He asked teasingly.

“Never on the cello.” She agreed.

“Any other instruments?”

“Piano.” She admitted with a smile.

Yoongi loved that smile. It was bright, unguarded. She was talking about something she loved, something he loved. It was as though her entire face lit up, and she seemed to shine from within.

“You’re quite the musician.”

“Not like you.” She pointed out sighing as she leaned back against the seats as well. She was exhausted from the day, and dinner sounded less and less appealing as the minutes passed. She just wanted to go home. She wanted to forget that the day had ever happened, and pretend if only for a moment, that she was still just Y/N and not Agust D’s sugar baby.

“A musician is a musician.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if you play at home or in the arenas.”

They slipped into silence after that.

Dinner was short. She had studying to do, and the urge to see her baby. The day had left her rankled and seeing Eun Jae would help settle her again. So dinner was a light sweet meal where they got to know each other a little more before Yoongi sent her off in a car of her own. It was another dark SUV just like the one they had taken to get to the little restaurant.

“This is Jackson.” He nodded to the man waiting outside the car for her. “He’ll be your driver from now on.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” The tall young man greeted with a respectful bow and a charming smile.

“Please, call me Y/N.” She introduced herself with a small smile of her own.

He nodded shooting her a grin, both of them unaware of the dark look Yoongi was giving them. She was never so at ease with him, but she would be soon with any luck.

“Take good care of her, Wang.” He ordered seeing his own car pulling up ready to take him to the next thing on his schedule for the day. “Take care, Y/N. I’ll be seeing you soon.” He gave her nod though it wasn’t what he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss her. God did he want to kiss her, but she wasn’t ready for that yet. Soon though. Soon.

She got home safe and sound though it was a surprise for Halmeoni to see her there.

The elderly woman looked at her with a sharp eye as she entered the restaurant. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see Eun Jae. It’s been a rough day.” She answered with a weak smile.

Her grandmother nodded in understanding motioning her head towards the stairs that led up to their home. “He’s upstairs. I’ll make tea.”

She nodded gratefully before practically sprinting up the stairs. She saw Eun Jae sprawled across the floor coloring, and it was like she could breathe again. Everything would be okay. It had to be okay. And even if it wasn’t, she would make it okay, for him.

part 5

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #bts yoongi #bts suga #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yandere #yandere yoongi #yandere suga #rapper yoongi #agust d #bts fanfic #suga we're going down #suga x reader #dark romance

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babiemingoo · 3 years

Text

fantasy faire || yoon jeonghan

summary: [apart of the seventeen stars to the right series] jeonghan figures babysitting his niece at disneyland can’t be that bad, but it definitely gets better when he finds out you’re the cast member assisting his niece’s favorite princess, cinderella.

genre: fluff, cutie uncle!jeonghan || wc: 2.3k

a/n: yes I did take too long to post this and yes I did go overboard... i’m sorry

I’m definitely the only college kid that has to spend their Saturdays like this, Jeonghan thinks to himself for the second time that month. When he had spent all those nights in high school imagining the crazy parties and wild events he’d attend on his Saturdays in college, there was never any 4 year old niece involved, and definitely no Disneyland either. Yet here he was, his right pointer and middle fingers wrapped tightly around his niece’s hand as she tugs him towards the opening gates of the amusement park. Despite the fact that he did want to go out day drinking with his friends like normal college students did, he also couldn’t complain too much. A free year pass to Disneyland and getting paid just to spend the day with his niece every week? There’s worse things to do on a Saturday.

Still, Jeonghan curses his need for money in the back of his head when a mere 15 seconds after stepping into the park his niece won’t stop begging him to go to the Royal Hall, of all places. “Uncle Hannie pleaseee you told me last time that you’d let me meet Cinderella!” He tries not to groan at the way his niece looks up at him, eyes pleading and much too big for his dwindling resolve.

“Why do you want to go there?! Don’t you want to, like, ride Space Mountain or something?” Jeonghan complains to her as they walk down Main Street, wearing matching Mickey and Minnie Disney ears while weaving through the overwhelming crowds of families and couples.

His niece lets out a whine just as they pass some teenager asking her parents for pictures in front of the castle, “I want to meet Cinderella! She’s my favorite! Uncle Hannie pleaseee!” Her walking halts and she begins to stomp her feet in protest. “You’re such a meanie, you told me last time we came that we would see Cinderella and the time before that and the first time and-”

“Fine!” Jeonghan thought he was first at a lot of things in life, but his niece definitely has him beat in the whining and persistence departments, “We can go see Cinderella at the Royal Hall, but only once today okay? We’re not going over and over again.”

His niece pouts, but doesn’t complain further as she makes her way to the left where the hall was located. Disneyland was always fun - it was Disneyland - but Jeonghan wishes he could enjoy it to it’s full potential rather than being dragged around to visit people in costumes and watching the same shows over and over again.

-----

The boy watches as his niece makes small conversation with the cast member dressed as Ariel. They had to wait in line for 45 minutes to get into the meet and greet and his niece only looks half amused when the princess asks her if she’s met any new fish friends lately. Jeonghan doesn’t say much during their interaction aside from taking a few pictures to show his aunt later and thanking the cast members for their time.

Almost immediately after Ariel bids her goodbyes, the little girl goes taking off around the corner, calling out a, “Cinderelly Cinderelly!” in excitement. Jeonghan rushes to keep up, and right as he rounds the corner himself he sees his niece happily jumping into the arms of the woman dressed in blue.

He already knows this is going to take twice as long as Ariel’s meet and greet did; his niece is already spewing off about how she wants her own castle with a mouse named Gus Gus and a carriage shaped like a pumpkin. With a slight puff Jeonghan makes his way to stand next to the cast attendant with Cinderella and for the first time today it’s his heart that goes pumping with excitement.

You stand next to the pillar with a smile watching the interaction between the princess and Jeonghan’s niece. You loved your job of attending to the princesses at the Royal Hall - the way a few magical minutes in someone’s day always makes the tiring hours more than worth it. You beam as Jeonghan’s niece claps her hands while speaking to Cinderella, questioning her on whether or not the King and Queen of the kingdom forced her to eat broccoli, too.

Since starting your job at Disneyland, there were many days where you and your favorite coworker would talk after a shift to discuss the cute guys that would funnel in and out of the parks. Turning to look at the man who came into your area with the little girl, you knew today would be one of those days. “Is she your sister?” You decide to ask, you know, for good measure. He technically looked old enough to have a child around the girl’s age, but you learned the hard way it’s better not to assume.

“Niece,” He answers with a small smile once he settles next to you. Jeonghan lets a few moments pass as he watches his niece happily bounce next to the princess, but in the corner of his eye he’s watching you. You were probably one of the cutest people he’s ever seen - if not the cutest. Knowing he only has a limited amount of time before the family on the other side of the wall moves on to get their meeting with Cinderella, the man attempts to strike up a conversation, “My sister makes me bring her to Disneyland every Saturday.”

“Every Saturday?!” Your eyes get wide, turning to fully face the man, “Did you have to buy an annual pass for that?”

“Nah, they pay for it.” The boy decides to face you completely in response while rubbing his fingers together, “My sister married well.” For a split second he wonders if he should’ve lied and said he did pay for it all himself - to impress you or something.

Your mouth opens to reply, but you’re quickly distracted when you catch the two girls posing for a picture. Despite your desire to talk to the cute guy, you know you’re technically still on the clock, so you cut the conversation in favor of taking pictures of his niece with her favorite princess. Jeonghan decides to do the same and pulls out his phone for pictures, but really, his attention is on you the entire time.

-----

When his niece first begged to meet Cinderella, Jeonghan fully prepared to tell her every week following that they can’t go the Royal Hall for whatever made up reason and somehow convince her to go on a ride instead.

However, with the thought of you, the cute cast member replaying on his mind like a loop, he doesn’t complain for a second when his niece asks to see the princess in blue. In fact, it’s become a habit to head straight to the left whenever they enter the parks. Sometimes Jeonghan even takes his niece through the meet and greet twice if she behaves well (but she doesn’t really have to do anything. He just wants an excuse to see you again).

With their new routine in play, you and Jeonghan become more and more familiar with each other. You learn each other’s names, where the two of you go to school, and even things as in depth as Jeonghan’s love for basketball and the story of how you came to work for Disney. He figures out that your shift ends at 3pm every Saturday and he always seems to make it at least once before you’re off. Coming to Disneyland goes from babysitting his niece to borderline using the little girl as an excuse to talk to you. The bond you two create is simple, and definitely unexpected from your job of working with families and couples more often than not, but it’s special; even magical in a way.

So when Jeonghan’s niece makes a move to go right instead of left one Spring Saturday, Jeonghan nearly gets whiplash, “What are you doing? Don’t you want to go to the Royal Hall?”

To his surprise, the little girl shakes her head and points towards Tomorrowland, “Can we try Space Mountain instead?”

For once in his life, Jeonghan is rendered speechless. His niece never turned down an opportunity to go see her favorite princess. He does nothing but blink at her for a bit, trying to understand her sudden fixation with the opposite end of the park, until he’s pulled back to reality by her tugging on his hand again, “Do you want to see Cinderella later, then?”

Jeonghan’s okay with going on the ride first - as long as they get into the Royal Hall by 3pm. “No,” His niece suddenly answers and the boy can only imagine how high his eyebrows raise, “I don’t really like Cinderella anymore.”

“You what?!” Jeonghan drops down to the girl’s eye level to shake her shoulders dramatically, “What do you mean you don’t like Cinderella?! She’s your favorite!”

“Not anymore, I watched Frozen yesterday and Elsa’s dress is prettier. She’s my favorite now!” He’s sure this could go in a Youtube compilation of Top 10 Anime Betrayals, “I wanna go see Elsa today instead!”

“Screw Elsa!” Jeonghan forgets for a second just where he is, catching a middle aged mom in the corner of his eye covering her daughter’s ears. Clearing his throat and bringing his tone down, he continues, “You like Cinderella, okay? When we get back to your house later tonight we can watch all the Cinderella movies and I’ll even buy you a doll today! But we're not going to see Elsa! We’re seeing Cinderella!”

The small girl, as expected, isn’t very happy with his demands. She begins to stomp and whine like that first day he took her to meet the princess, and although she got the best of him that time, it’s not happening today. “Why can’t we see Elsa?!”

“Because-” Jeonghan pauses to bring his voice down once again, “Cinderella’s friend is really, really cute, okay? And Uncle Hannie really wants to get their phone number. So, we’re going to see Cinderella and later on when Cinderella’s cute friend doesn’t have to work anymore we can go see Elsa, I promise.” With his pinky stretched out, he’s hoping his explanation suffices. His niece was young and maybe she won’t understand just how desperately he wants those two or three minutes with you every week; but it’s worth a shot.

For a second, she does nothing but stare at his outstretched hand, almost as if she’s weighing her options. Then, with a small smile, she lifts her small hand to meet his and hooks their pinkies together, “Okay.”

-----

Today, Cinderella is placed at the end of the Royal Hall, and Jeonghan’s sure that his niece knows exactly what she’s doing when she nearly flies through the first two princesses with little to no conversation. He decides not to point it out though, and just goes through the routine of taking a picture and thanking the workers.

Jeonghan wonders how the interaction between his niece and Cinderella will go; will she pretend to be interested? Will she tell Cinderella that she’s found a new favorite? Or, worst of all: will she take nearly no time with the princess, and Jeonghan will be forced to talk to you for less than a second before having to leave?

Surprisingly, his niece does none of the three. Without even sparing Cinderella a glance, she immediately marches over to you standing in your usual spot against the pillar and says, “My Uncle thinks you’re cute.”

Silence. Jeonghan, despite being a naturally confident guy, doesn’t know what to do when you look up from his niece with an amused smile. Even Cinderella seems to lose character for a few moments when she slaps her hand over her mouth to conceal her laugh. Before Jeonghan can open his mouth to redeem himself, you look back down at his niece, “Oh? Does he?”

“Yes! I told Uncle Hannie I wanted to meet Elsa today but he made me come here because he said you’re really cute and he wants your phone number,” The girl replies and Jeonghan wonders where kids learn this stuff. “Can you give him your phone number so I can see Elsa now?”

Jeonghan sighs. This would happen to him. It’s probably karma for using his innocent niece as a way to talk to you. What is he even supposed to say now? Breaking into an awkward smile, he grabs his niece by the shoulder and shrugs, “Uh, kids, right?” Damn kids.

You laugh for a few seconds before lowering down to his niece’s level and grinning at the girl, “Tell your Uncle, that I think he’s really, really cute,” You spare a glance at the man briefly, “And that I’m flattered he’d like to get my phone number. But it’s against the Disneyland rules for me to give it to him.”

Of course it is, he thinks to himself. Leave it to the happiest place on Earth to ruin his chances with you. Jeonghan’s about to nod in understanding and motion for his niece to (very quickly) finish her meet and greet and he can stuff his face with churros for the rest of the day. But before he can make any sort of moves you continue, “However… If you and your Uncle were to see me at the castle around 3:30 after my shift today… I’m sure Mickey wouldn’t mind, right?”

“He wouldn’t!” His niece answers happily before jumping up and down, facing Jeonghan to say, “Can we see Elsa before then?!”

Chuckling (mostly to mask his sigh of relief and excitement), Jeonghan nods and points to Cinderella across the room, “Finish saying hi to Cinderella and I’ll take you to meet Elsa right after this.”

The little girl squeals in happiness before running over to the woman in blue, who he knows is giving him a knowing look. Jeonghan fits into his spot next to you, whispering through a smile, “So… churros at 3:30 then?”

You beam at him, nodding, “It’s a date.”

#caratwritersclub #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fics #seventeen one shot #kpop #kpop fics #seventeen x reader #kpop au #seventeen au #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines

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osakaso5 · 3 years

Photo

Yamato Nikaido RabbiTube Rabbit TV Part 1: Spending Time With Yamato

Part 2 | Part 3

Staff: …Now, on to the RabbiTube project.

Staff: Our plan is to introduce the videos by featuring clips on NEXT Re:vale!

Staff: We’d really appreciate it if you could show a side of yourselves that people don’t usually get to see on TV. It’s a pleasure to be working with you!

Momo: We’ve got high hopes for you guys!

Yuki: Feel free to fully expose yourselves to the public.

Mitsuki Izumi: Ahaha, please be gentle with us! Looks like I’m gonna have to do a RabbiTube study marathon..!

Gaku Yaotome: By the way, Tenn, I saw you watching RabbiTube videos the other day. Do you know any good ones?

Tenn Kujo: …I was just watching cat videos.

Gaku Yaotome: Cats, huh. That’s not gonna help us learn anything.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: …I think they might help! You could learn ways to entertain and soothe people…

Gaku Yaotome: Ryu, not all of us are gonna be able to do that…

Yuki: …I’m liking the idea of Kitty Gaku.

Tenn Kujo: …Pfft…

Gaku Yaotome: Tenn, why’re you laughing!?

Riku Nanase: Kitties..! So could it be like a video of Iori going into a cat café?

Iori Izumi: Why do I have to go to a cat café!?

Yamato Nikaido: I’m not too excited about making videos like that, either…

Tamaki Yotsuba: I wanna do a pudding tasting!

Sogo Osaka: …Personally, I’d like to rank my top 100 spices from all around the world…

Nagi Rokuya: And I shall hold a Cocona watch party!

Mitsuki Izumi: You guys aren’t bringing anything new to the table!

Iori Izumi: …Actually, I suppose animal videos do have their appeal, despite how banal they are…

Riku Nanase: Did you say something, Iori?

Iori Izumi: No, nothing.

Momo: Ahaha! Great, you’re already brainstorming ideas!

Momo: You’ve all got the right idea! We wanna see you act natural for your RabbiTubes!

Yuki: Let’s have a fun year doing this.

IDOLiSH7 & TRIGGER: Yessir!

- - - -

Riku Nanase: We’re going to be RabbiTubers for our birthday project this year..!

Sogo Osaka: All the group chats up until now were fun, so it’s kind of a shame that we won’t be doing one this year.

Mitsuki Izumi: …Fair enough. It’ll be awesome to make videos for our fans, but I wish we could have our own celebrations too!

Yamato Nikaido: It’s become kind of a tradition by now.

Nagi Rokuya: …We do not work together as much as we used to. Though I understand that it is difficult to match all our schedules…

Tamaki Yotsuba: Do we not get to eat Mikki’s cakes this year?

Mitsuki Izumi: The cakes are the one thing we’re gonna make for sure! Right, Iori!?

Iori Izumi: Yes. I’ll help, too.

Riku Nanase: Hmm… Celebrations…

Riku Nanase: Ah! Why don’t we all go somewhere together for our birthdays?

Riku Nanase: I guess we probably can’t all go… But we can get our manager to arrange it so at least some of us can hang out!

Mitsuki Izumi: Going out, huh… That does sound like a nice change of pace from all the group RabbitChats!

Yamato Nikaido: It’s a shame that we won’t all be able to go, but getting to choose a spot does make it feel more special. …You should take me to a beer brewery, by the way.

Mitsuki Izumi: Sounds like you’ve already got one in mind!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Let’s take lots of pics and videos for the guys who can’t go. We can send them over RabbitChat.

Nagi Rokuya: OH! A wonderful idea. It will make us all feel as if we are there.

Iori Izumi: I’m sure uploading them to Rabitter would make many people happy, as well.

Sogo Osaka: That sounds fun..! Let’s ask our manager about it tomorrow.

Riku Nanase: Yep! …Looks like we’re going to have pretty fun birthdays again!

- - - -

Nagi Rokuya: Yamato, Sogo! This is my first time doing pottery!

Nagi Rokuya: Though I have witnessed a posture similar to that of someone doing pottery in interviews and such...

Sogo Osaka: Politicians and commentators often pose like that for articles about them.

Sogo Osaka: Sometimes, it's almost like they really were told to mimic sitting at a pottery wheel.

Nagi Rokuya: Indeed. Many anime producers also pose like that for interviews.

Sogo Osaka: Interesting... I didn't know that technique had spread to the anime industry, as well...

Yamato Nikaido: ...Uh... Do I get to participate in this conversation yet?

Nagi Rokuya: But of course, Yamato! We are here for pottery!

Sogo Osaka: I'm sorry, I didn't mean to babble like that.

Yamato Nikaido: ...I thought our work here in Kyoto was done, so why are we at a pottery studio, exactly..?

Tsumugi Takanashi: This was the only day before your birthday that was open in all of your schedules!

Tsumugi Takanashi: We've got plenty of time before our train home leaves, and Sogo-san and Nagi-san wanted to sculpt tea cups for all of IDOLiSH7!

Nagi Rokuya: Ceramics are the essence of Japan. Show me your national spirit!

Yamato Nikaido: My national spirit...

Sogo Osaka: I thought it'd be nice if we could eat and drink from cups some of us made ourselves, even when we can't all be gathered around the same table.

Yamato Nikaido: ...I guess you've got a point there. Let's do this, then.

Yamato Nikaido: We'll save the brewery visit I'd been hoping for for some other day.

Nagi Rokuya: OH, there you go again...

Sogo Osaka: Yamato-san, you'll make four cups and bowls, while Nagi-kun and I will make three and bowls cups each.

Yamato Nikaido: Oh, okay then. Roger that.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Wait... Isn't that three sets too many?

Yamato Nikaido: You didn't think we'd forget you, our president, or Banri-san, did you? We'll make some for you guys, too.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Huh..?

Nagi Rokuya: YES! That way, we can all have yet another celebration.

Sogo Osaka: I hope you'll come visit us often.

Tsumugi Takanashi: ...T-thank you..! I didn't mean to make you work so hard for your own birthday, Yamato-san...

Yamato Nikaido: It's fine. All I need in return is that you use the cup I made, and maybe also cook me a something special in return.

Nagi Rokuya: Yamato, you are spoiling the mood.

Yamato Nikaido: Hey, even I need a reward sometimes.

Sogo Osaka: Ahaha...

Tsumugi Takanashi: I-I'll just be over here with the camera! Well then... let's begin!

Nagi, Yamato, & Sogo: Yeah..!

- - - -

Yamato Nikaido: This is actually pretty difficult...

Sogo Osaka: It's hard to get the thickness right. I feel like the strength of my fingers is off somehow...

Nagi Rokuya: Look, Yamato and Sogo! Gaze upon these gentle curves!

Yamato Nikaido: Wait, you're making Cocona, not a tea cup!

Sogo Osaka: Y-you're incredible, Nagi-kun! How did you make those hearts..?

Nagi Rokuya: OH, this is a very basic sculpting technique. Allow me to show you.

Yamato Nikaido: I thought you'd be better at this sort of thing since you're so into DIY, Sou.

Sogo Osaka: I think I'll do better if someone shows me how it's done...

Nagi Rokuya: Sogo, you do it like this.

Sogo Osaka: Whoa... It's taking shape so quickly...

Yamato Nikaido: ...That's King Pudding, not a cup.

Nagi Rokuya: I shall leave the finishing touches to you.

Tsumugi Takanashi: They're a far cry from anything you could drink out of, but still very impressive..!

Nagi Rokuya: Feel free to take pictures, Tsumugi.

Tsumugi Takanashi: I am!

Sogo Osaka: I need to do this properly. It's important!

Yamato Nikaido: Just don't show any pictures of Sou's work to Tama.

Tsumugi Takanashi: I already sent one to him..!

Yamato Nikaido: Damn, I was too late... My bad, Tama.

Yamato Nikaido: ...So why am I the only one taking this seriously, again?

Nagi Rokuya: I will put my Cocona in the kiln with the cups!

Sogo Osaka: And I'll put in my King Pudding...

Yamato Nikaido: Ugh... Hurry it up, then.

Tsumugi Takanashi: ...Ah, Yamato-san, are you starting to get the hang of it? Your cups are all nice and even, with just the right thickness and depth..!

Yamato Nikaido: Haha. Thanks. I've always had kind of a knack for this stuff.

Yamato Nikaido: How long do we have to keep these in the kiln for?

Tsumugi Takanashi: After they're done in the kiln, they still need to air dry... Which should take about a month or so, all in all! They'll mail the finished cups to us once they're done.

Yamato Nikaido: Well, at least we won't have to come back for them.

Sogo Osaka: We should think of what we'll have from these when they arrive.

Nagi Rokuya: Let us discuss it in our group chat afterwards.

Yamato Nikaido: I'd go with ochazuke, it seems like a safe enough choice.

Sogo Osaka: I thought you might suggest that. Great idea.

Nagi Rokuya: OH! I would like to have a bowl of sushi rice!

Yamato Nikaido: Ah, that one does sound nice, too... I'm starting to get hungry.

Sogo Osaka: Ahaha, same here! Let's buy some quick souvenirs for the guys and go straight home after that.

Nagi Rokuya: I look forward to selecting my lunch box at the train station.

Yamato Nikaido: You sure do take your time with that stuff.

Nagi Rokuya: Eating on the train was not a part of my country's culture, so I was very excited to find out about Japan's train lunches!

Yamato Nikaido: Yeah, I can see why. A can of beer goes well with those.

Sogo Osaka: And it's fun to see which sorts of lunches are sold in different regions.

Yamato Nikaido: Sure is.

- - - -

Yamato Nikaido: ...Time flies by when you're talking about food.

Nagi Rokuya: Sogo and I have made three sets each!

Sogo Osaka: How did you like doing pottery, Yamato-san?

Yamato Nikaido: Haha... In all honesty, it was a ton of fun. You picked this place because you knew I'm not into big and fancy stuff, right? Thanks.

Yamato Nikaido: We should bring the rest of the guys here sometime.

Sogo Osaka: We should!

Nagi Rokuya: YES!

Tsumugi Takanashi: Thank you all for showing me your pottery skills..! Let me just take one more picture of you!

Tsumugi Takanashi: Say cheese..!

End of Part 1.

Translator’s notes..?

Rabbit TVs courtesy of @rabbit-library

#idolish7 #yamato nikaido #rabbitube #translation #i7 #rabbit tv

25 notes · View notes

lovelylogans · 3 years

Text

debutante

previous chapter / chapter three / next chapter

part of the wyliwf verse.

warnings: mentions of transphobia, food mentions, alcohol, kissing, someone makes an approach as if they’re going to start a fistfight but they do not, please let me know if i’ve missed anything else!

pairings: logince, moxiety

words: 15,031

notes: the spanish is from an online translator, so if it’s terribly wrong, please let me know! also, the emails in this are fake, please don’t try to email them, pretty sure they don’t exist lol. also the wine advice is from my general family's ideas about the value of wine, but the pretentious way you're meant to drink wine was taught to me when i was in italy by some other students who went to sommelier class, a few days before i posted the first chapter of wyliwf, so

⁂

patton’s lingering over one last (decaf, darn virgil) mug of cocoa/coffee when the bell over the door jangles.

patton turns to glance over his shoulder and automatically brightens when he sees that it’s logan.

“hey!” he says eagerly. “i hope everything at the slange’s went okay, and even if it didn’t, i have masterfully wrangled virgil into allowing you to select a sweet treat of your choosing, or we can stop by lucy’s, if you want, and—oh!”

because logan had made a beeline straight for the counter, and has wrapped his arms around patton, burying his face in his shoulder.

“oh,” patton says softly, because—because logan’s not much of a hugger, and if he’s hugging him now...

patton immediately wraps his arms around logan in kind, rubbing a hand up and down his back as he does so. logan’s taller than him—patton distantly wonders if that will ever not be strange to him—and so he has to duck his chin to place his face into the space between patton’s neck and shoulder. patton squeezes tighter, and logan shivers a little bit.

“oh, hey, buddy, are you okay?”

logan nods, but he doesn’t say anything, lingering with his face pressed into patton’s sweater for a couple seconds, taking a couple deep breaths, shoulders relaxing slowly, oh so painstakingly slowly, before he emerges, looking slightly embarrassed, in a way that feels distinctly teenager-y.

“sorry.”

“you don’t gotta apologize for hugging me, kiddo,” patton says, frowning, reaching out to cup logan’s cheek. “is everything okay?”

“yeah,” he says. “just—” and he awkwardly reaches out to poke patton’s shoulder. “y’know. you’re my dad.”

“well, yeah,” patton says, still a little confused. “super thrilled i’m your dad, lo, have been for sixteen years and—how many days has it been since your birthday?”

logan’s lips twitch up into a little smile, and he settles into the chair next to him.

“d’you wanna talk about it?” patton says.

logan shakes his head, and he says very quietly, “not here.”

patton nods, absorbing this, but before he can say anything else, virgil comes out from the kitchen, rag and spray bottle in hand, ready to wipe down the counter.

“oh, hey, you’re back!” virgil says. “uh, your dad’s been taking decaf most of the night in order to get you a sweet, if you want one, even though nutrition doesn’t work like it’s split across two people—”

“can i get a brownie?” logan asks. “no offense, virgil, i just—kind of want to get home.”

“that’s cool,” virgil says, not at all offended. “one brownie, to go, comin’ right up.”

and so virgil plucks a brownie from the pastry case with a pair of tongs, setting it in a wax paper bag, before sealing that inside of a virgil’s diner to-go bag, passing it across the counter. “see you tomorrow for breakfast?”

“breakfast,” patton confirms, and leans forward, cheerfully demanding “kiss!”

virgil obligingly leans forward the rest of the way, giving patton a quick peck. patton passes over enough money to cover his meal and a tip, before he gently taps logan on the shoulder.

“let’s go, then, the couch is calling my name,” patton says, like he isn’t even a little worried about what could have prodded logan into hugging him out of the blue.

they step out into the night, the bell jangling in harmony with virgil’s goodbye. patton tucks himself a little more snugly into his jacket—spring may be approaching, but winter wasn’t letting go without a fight, so he was stuck with steel-gray cold mornings and too-early sunsets for a while longer—looking over to logan, who’s backlit by the street lamps and the fairy lights dotting a few of the buildings around town.

his face doesn’t give anything away. it almost never does, but patton studies his face anyways; stiff and unyielding, eyes sharp and looking out for any oncoming traffic. patton wishes a little bit that logan’s face would at least give him a little hint as to what happened at the slange’s, but logan just looks like he normally does, if a little stressed, and that could be for any number of reasons—school, or tiny bureaucratic roadblocks for the debutante ball, or a fight with dee, or just something to do with dee in general.

either way, patton jerks his head in the usual direction they walk to get home, and logan nods, falling into step beside him, the pair of them mirroring each other’s posture; hands in coat pockets, faces ducked to shield from any stray gusts of wind, their pace the same, the way it only ever is when you’re very used to walking to the same places with the same person.

they walk in silence for a couple minutes before logan takes a deep breath.

“can i ask you a morality question?”

patton smiles, just a little—journalistic morality and ethics questions are always interesting conversations with logan, as patton’s innate moral compass works well with logan’s encyclopedic knowledge of the history of journalism, so they tend to spend almost hours talking about stuff like this, hypothetical situations they can puzzle over together. plus, it’s a nice little insight into something logan’s so passionate about; it’s something they can do together that increases patton’s appreciation for logan’s talent.

“‘course you can!”

logan chews at the inside of his cheek for a few seconds, getting his question in order, before he says, “let’s say i’m interviewing someone. a peer.”

“yes.”

“and, not due to any prodding from said peer, i come into knowledge of something from… that peer’s family.”

ah. okay. so this might not be a hypothetical question.

“yes,” patton says cautiously.

“and if a previously established… editor,” logan says, edging carefully around it. “already knows sensitive information about said peer that was previously, ah. decided against publishing. if the reporter wished to ask advice, should they ask the editor, or keep said knowledge to themselves?”

patton rolls the question around in his head, removing the hypothetical-ness of it all. so, if patton knows sensitive information about dee that he’s already keeping secret, and if logan found out something else, then is it okay for logan to tell patton about it?

if patton knows one thing about dee, it’s that he’s secretive. the fact that dee has secrets isn’t surprising. the part that’s surprising him is that logan feels the need to get his dad’s opinion on the secret. so that probably means it’s a pretty serious secret—logan’s a smart kid, he knows what to do in a lot of situations, so if he feels like he needs patton’s help...

“well,” he says cautiously. “um. i guess it depends on the knowledge itself. is it going to hurt d—um, the peer, if no one knows? is it something that puts them in danger?”

“...no,” logan says. “i—ah, the reporter doesn’t think it will put the peer in physical danger.”

patton frowns. “so it would be more of an emotional distress situation.”

“yes,” logan says, relieved. “yes, exactly. it would put the peer in emotional distress. it causes the peer emotional distress.”

“currently?” patton says, frowning deeper.

“yes.”

“is the peer alone in knowing this? do they have other people to talk to about this in their personal life, not just the reporter and their editor?”

“technically,” logan says and frowns. “the peer and their family… employs people. so, the staff are aware of the situation, but they aren’t—friends.”

“the peer’s family?” patton says, glancing. “is that an option, for them to talk to their family?”

logan’s face deepens into a scowl. “it seems like that is not an option, given the information that the reporter has learned about the peer’s family.”

patton sighs, because, well. he probably should have expected that. dee’s dad was never particularly kind, but. he’d been hoping things like marriage and fatherhood might have changed him.

“um,” logan says, and gives patton a sidelong glance. “i thought a potential solution could be… offering the peer a space to come in and sl—um. interview. in the presence of the editor who already knows things. because the reporter feels out of their depth, but—but maybe the peer will decide to discuss things with the editor, who seems to have more expertise in this… area.”

the sleepover text, patton realizes. logan bringing dee over doesn’t just mean more planning, or an easy place for dee to stay after Get Cultured day; it’ll mean that patton will be there, too, and if they all get to talking, like last time, and dee lets something slip, like last time, or (more preferably to patton) if dee decides that patton seems like an adult he can trust with information, if patton seems like an adult who can give out sound advice...

“that seems like a great choice for the reporter to have made,” patton says, smiling at logan. “not divulging any confidences, but offering a way for the peer to decide if they want further support or not. agreed. that was a good moral exercise.”

logan nods. “on a completely unrelated note, i texted you earlier—”

“oh, yeah, totally unrelated,” patton agrees, winking. “but—yeah, that sounds good to me! totally down for that, it’s been a while since you’ve had a slumber party. have you already asked dee over?”

“no, not yet,” logan says, and that line of conversation has carried them to the front door of their house, where patton steps ahead of logan to unlock the door and let him in, flicking on the light as logan divests himself of his backpack and his jacket.

“well, you can go ahead and do that, i may as well mention now that you don’t need to get some gloves, i ordered some,” patton says, “so we can cross that off the list. um, your escort—what’s her name again?”

“poppy,” logan says.

“right, poppy,” patton says. “one, do you know if she’s coming to Get Cultured day, and two, does she have a tux?”

“i’ll text her and ask,” logan says. simultaneously, they collapse on the couch. logan makes no move to text her. instead, he frees his brownie from virgil’s, breaks it in half, and hands one half to patton. patton, grinning, accepts it.

“so,” patton says, taking a bite of the brownie. “how was the slange’s house, anyway?”

logan turns wide, beleaguered eyes to patton. “rich people are ridiculous.”

patton snorts and tucks his legs up underneath him, propping his head on his hand. “tell me about it.”

⁂

dee’s eyebrows arch at him as logan opens up his lunchbox. logan’s had his lunchbox for a few years, so it’s not quite as pristine as it was when he first bought it, after a lot of time spent in backpacks with heavy textbooks, and dropped on the ground, and shoved into lockers, but logan still likes the design of it—it’s black, with white sketchings of chemical formulas.

logan glances at his ziplocked jam sandwich and back up at dee. “what?”

“i don’t know how you can eat the same thing every day,” dee says.

“just for lunch,” logan says, removing a clementine. “and the fruits and vegetables change seasonally. dessert depends on what grocery store sales are on. what do you have for lunch, anyway?”

dee, wordlessly, proceeds to remove a gold-foil-wrapped something from his lunchbox, a black yeti-branded one, and logan eyes it.

“that’s excessive,” he tells dee.

dee shrugs. “yellow and gold are my favorite colors. shortly followed by black.”

“what, not brown?” logan says, eyeing his cape. “also, do you have a special understanding to flout uniform rules? ted grayson got pink-slipped because he wasn’t wearing a jacket or a sweater, how do you get away with—” he gestures vaguely to the bowler hat, the cape, the yellow gloves.

dee’s smile flits across his face so fast that logan thinks he might have imagined it, before he pulls out his phone.

“if you ever come to my parents’ house, i’ll show you my pink slip collection,” dee says decisively. he hands over the phone to logan, and logan obligingly looks.

it’s a wall full of filled-out pink slips.

“it’s the most precious art piece i own,” dee says in an officious tone, taking his phone back.

“how have you not been expelled,” logan breathes out disbelievingly.

dee’s smile is much less fleeting, this time, and he says, “anyways, speaking of clothes. you know a tailor, right? i need one for the ball.”

“well, tailor,” logan says with a shrug, beginning to peel his clementine. “it’s just virgil, but i could ask him. he’s doing a lot of dresses for sideshire high kids, is yours very complicated in terms of alterations?”

dee looks at him, before he says in a measured tone, “it fits perfectly fine, i just think the fabric at the shoulders needs reinforcing.”

logan blinks at him. “the shoulders?”

dee stares at him, for a few seconds, before he says in a purposefully casual tone, “yes, i had to look at a binder full of designs and i thought this one would be the best, what with the binder and all, but it turns out it needs a little bit of cover. some of the lace at the shoulder’s torn already, i need to make sure that’s hidden.”

logan promptly feels like an idiot—dee would need alterations to ensure that his secret’s kept, and if he’s wearing a binder and has a lacy shoulder, that would surely show—

“of course,” logan says. “i can ask him later. should i… tell him? about the… shoulder?”

dee chews at his lip for a moment.

“virgil’s my dad’s partner,” logan adds, as a means of explanation as to why he’s the tailor, but also to somehow pass along that virgil is supportive of trans people. “he’s been a bit puzzled by brick’s dress—brick’s nonbinary, they’re a year or so younger than us—but i think virgil’s managed to figure out how to customize the dress to best help brick feel comfortable. that was the biggest alteration, for a while, all the rest of the ones he’s doing are mostly hemming and the like. other than mine. mine used to be my dad’s, and he was quite a bit shorter than me at the time.”

dee chews at his lip a little harder.

“i’d tell only virgil,” logan says, and tacks on hastily, “about the, ah. torn lace at the shoulder. you don’t need to worry about that getting out to anyone else.”

“...i suppose you can,” dee says eventually. “as long as he’s discreet.”

“of course he is,” logan says. “you can let me know if you change your mind, though, i’ll probably tell him after dinner tonight. anyways. if we’re already talking about the debutante ball, shall we go over any of the more recent developments?”

dee nods, and the conversation turns to less fraught topics.

well. perhaps a little bit fraught, because if this blows up in their faces, logan still isn’t entirely sure of what repercussions could face him, but he’s sure there are repercussions.

poppy less casually enters dee and logan’s murmured conversation during lunch about the last touches before Get Cultured Day, and more quite literally shoulders her way in.

“so,” she barks, setting down her lunch tray with a clack, “what are the registration numbers looking like?”

logan looks at dee, and dee shrugs at him, tilting his head ever so slightly so his bowler hat covers his yellow eye, as if to say, you’re her partner, you’re less of a social threat than me, you handle it.

logan turns to poppy, and instead of saying any of that, asks, “aren’t you a freshman? why are you at sophomore lunch?”

she gives him a look, before she says, “so. numbers?”

“it looks like the final number of our participants is at forty-six,” logan says, “barring any last-minute entries, of course.”

poppy looks impressed for a moment, before she says, “i’ve gotten my tux, by the way. what’s your dress like?”

logan pulls up a photograph on his phone—the dress on the mannequin, not on himself—and tells her, “it’s still being altered, but it should be done by the end of the weekend.”

“you have your gloves, your fan, all of it?”

“yes. heels, too.”

poppy nods, and pulls out her planner, ticking talk to logan about dress off her list—logan spots bribery? and namedrop logan to dr. kramschissel and ask opinion on pitch as part of a sub-list underneath it—before she pulls out a manila folder and hands it to him.

“what’re these?” he says.

“design plans, new letterheads, and font families i think we should start using,” she says briskly. “oh, and a few new ways to update the website. that thing hasn’t been updated since before the dot com bubble burst, and we need to stay up-to-date on the latest design trends in the newspaper circle to be able to win a pacemaker, or at the very least continue the all-americans.”

(hey, a definition break from a former staffer here: all-american awards are distributed through the nspa, or the national scholastic press association, and the jea, or journalism education association. an all-american yearbook or newspaper is the highest rating given in critiques; it covers approximately the top five percent of high school and college publications in the entire country. the pacemaker is the highest award a high school publication can receive. these awards are basically high-school versions of pulitzers. and, uh, not to flex, but two-time all-american winner here!)

logan opens the folder, and his eyebrows arch at the infographic example greeting him. it looks incredibly professional, like an image in a magazine, with a color palette pleasing to the eye and simultaneously incredibly simple to read.

“so you’re a designer, then,” logan says; he’s dabbled in adobe photoshop and illustrator, and he knows better than most how long it takes to seem even slightly competent in illustrator, and by the looks of this, poppy is incredibly competent.

“artistic hobbies are proven to improve job performance, ease stress, and can improve memory and cognitive function,” poppy says matter-of-factly. “there’s no front-runner for design editor your senior year, which means there’ll be a gap, and if i prove early now that i know my stuff in design i can get an editor position my junior year. which means i put even more of an impressive resume forward to secure editor in chief my senior year. also, the style guide hasn’t been updated at this school in eight years. i want to write the newest edition.”

“...right,” logan says, and gestures vaguely with the manila folder. “have you shown these to mel?”

“obviously,” she says. “she said i had to wait until i got on staff, but my enthusiasm is apparently very encouraging. anyways, editor-in-chief gets a say in who the other editors are, so i figured i’d submit a portfolio early. also, there are pitches back there. you’ve already had three contribution bylines and i want your opinion on my chances of getting at least one this year.”

she takes the folder from him, flips past a couple pages, before she slides over another infographic, centered with empty boxes for photographs, placeholder text for an article. she’s designed an entire double truck layout. (double trucks are two facing pages in a newspaper; these are usually reserved for photo stories or large events. these are double trucks.)

DEBUTANTE HEADLINE HERE, it screams at the top of the page.

logan’s eyes flick across the table to dee, whose face is entirely blank, even though logan knows that an entire story about the debutante debacle would just draw more attention to what they threw the debutante event to cover.

“you’d have to be interviewed,” poppy says. logan cringes.

“i know, i know, you’re used to being the one who holds the pen,” poppy says. “but—”

“tell you what,” dee cuts in, voice smooth. “i know a way to pitch this to mel that benefits all of us, and won’t require poor logan to have to undergo the interview hell he’s used to submitting others to.”

“hey,” logan says mildly, without any heat.

poppy turns her attention to him, and dee digs out a pen, flipping it smoothly over his fingers.

“may i?” he says, gesturing to the mock-up.

poppy takes it from logan’s hands and passes it to him.

“right,” dee says, and draws a large circle around the infographic, jotting a p beside it, then circling one of the articles (headlined as DRESS SHOPPING PIECE?) and putting l beside it, along with the PARTICIPANT COLUMN, which also gets an l. DEBUTANTE STORY HEADLINE, he circles, and places a d beside it.

“there,” dee says matter-of-factly, capping the pen. “we all get actual bylines, not just contribution ones. logan can write a column and a dress piece, because he knows the person who’s altering sideshire dresses, and i can write the debutante piece, because i’ve been integral to the process, but i’m not as close with the organizers as logan is, which clears him of any bias. he’ll write the column about why the whole thing started. you can get credit for graphics and layout. we’d only need a staffer to take photographs.”

poppy’s eyes dart to him. “you’d think she’d take an entire double-truck by students who aren’t staffers yet?”

dee shrugs, spreading his gloved hands. “the worst she can do is say no. plus—” he slides the paper back, and takes a photograph of it with his phone, tapping a few buttons. “there. now we’ve got proof we came up with it first, and you and i can pitch a fit if they take the idea without involving us.”

“not me?” logan says.

“obviously not,” dee says, “you’re the favorite, which means you’ll be editor-in-chief once you keep that up, and i can benefit from nepotism.”

“i won’t be—”

“okay,” dee says with an eye-roll, “and who else are you going to trust to be your managing editor, louise? please.”

logan hesitates, because, well, he has a point. dee is by far the most capable person in their grade, aside from logan, of course. louise would be best qualified for entertainment editor, or perhaps photo, and then he shakes himself before he starts mentally assigning every proficient journalism student in their grade to editor positions.

“it wouldn’t be nepotism, you’d be qualified,” he says pointlessly.

dee tsks, patting logan’s hand. “of course not. mcmaster, buzz off for a moment, while i finish up this chat with logan, and then i’ll walk you to the journalism lab and help refine your pitch on the way, if you like.”

poppy’s eyes sharpen. “what, pitch it now?”

“no time like the present,” dee says. “and anyways, they’ll probably want a photographer there as we learn all the dances and curtsies this weekend, so—”

“right!” poppy says, “right. i’ll be right back” and she darts off, forgetting her folder, backpack, and lunch entirely.

logan watches her go, and says, resigned, “she really is going to be one of my editors, isn’t she.”

“editor in chief works closest with managing, copy, photo, and design, so she’ll practically be your right hand,” dee says gleefully.

“yours too, if you’re going to be my managing, so don’t look all smug because i will delegate if you make some kind of comment,” logan says, and dee grins at him—an actual, real grin, not a smirk or a smug little smile, a grin, like he’s happy.

and so of course logan has to ruin it by saying, “oh, i’ve been meaning to ask—would you like to come over and spend the night on Get Cultured day?”

the grin vanishes. dee actually looks somewhat alarmed. “what?”

“come over and spend the night,” logan repeats, trying his best to maintain a normal tone even though dee is looking at him as if he’s said come over and we’ll sacrifice you in an attempt to perfectly re-enact aztec ceremonies. “we could make sure everything’s done, then, and you could bring your dress so virgil could alter it and it could go home with in the morning, already done.”

he waits a beat, and when the alarmed look on dee’s face doesn’t abate, he adds, “it could be practice for a work night at the newspaper,” as if that is at all helpful.

“a sleepover?” dee says.

“well, yes,” logan says.

dee continues to stare.

“you can just say no,” logan says, perhaps a bit snippy, because dee’s acting like logan’s invited him away to get murdered. he is trying to help.

“at your house?”

“yes, at my house,” logan says.

poppy comes back; she’s managed to pull her hair back into a neat french braid that shows off the sharpness of her cheekbones, the intensity in her eyes.

“all right, i’m ready for the pitch,” poppy says decisively. “i think we should open with pointing out how this feature wouldn’t exist without you two, but i’m the one who came up with the idea.”

dee ignores her. “are you sure?”

“yes.”

“just you and me,” dee checks, wary.

“well, and my dad, but that’s a given.”

dee absorbs this, still looking rather spooked, before he says decisively, “fine.”

“fine?” logan repeats, arching his eyebrows.

“i mean—yes,” dee says. “yes, i’ll come.”

“all right, then,” logan says. “we can text about details.”

dee clears his throat, and offers his arm for poppy, which she takes with a confused look on her face.

“poppy,” he says, as they’re exiting the cafeteria. “i don’t suppose you’ve been to any slumber parties lately, have you?”

“oh, my mom usually pays me to stay at parties until ten-thirty,” poppy says cheerfully. “she thinks socialization is important and i’m not enough of a people person, so she keeps sending me to parties, so she has to keep paying me, which means i can save up so i apply to the summer science program through mit this summer. mom wants me to stay and do some kind of internship at a beauty company, but how is that going to further my career in cancer research? once i get in she can’t just keep me from going, it’s mit.”

great. his first sleepover, ever, and his only options for in-person advice are the person who invited him to the sleepover and the girl who has her life planned out through her forties likely down to what she’ll eat for lunch every day.

“fantastic,” dee says through gritted teeth.

⁂

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]; [email protected]; [email protected]

CC: [email protected]

Subject: Debutante Spread

I’ll admit, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten quite so ambitious a pitch from three underclassmen, and never one spearheaded by a freshman. I absolutely love the idea, and if you stumble across a spare ticket for an adult to witness this socially conscious display, please feel free to let me know. I’ve CC’d Lauren Patrikis on this email—she’s a staffer on the Franklin who’s free on Saturday, and she’s very talented with a camera. Feel free to exchange numbers and text about other photography opportunities that you think would help benefit the spread.

Poppy: please put your infographics on a flash drive and drop it off in the lab so we have the highest resolution to upload. Thank you very much for coming up with this idea; I’m all the more excited to have you in class.

Dee: I think that about 1000 words should be the goal for the main piece, but we can discuss length when you come by. After school still works for you, correct?

Logan: Please confirm a time to come and see me so we can discuss the more specific story pitches for the two columns you’re doing.

I very much look forward to what you three get up to in your years in the Chilton journalism program. I have a feeling this is just the beginning of all the unique ideas you’ll have, and I eagerly await the opportunity to edit them.

Best,

Mel Kramschissel, PhD.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

CC: [email protected]; [email protected]

Subject: Directions for Lessons

Hello,

The directions to the dance studio we’re holding lessons in are attached. Please let me know if you have any further questions about navigating to Sideshire, or about the event in general. I can get you the phone numbers of the teachers, if you’d like them. Would you mind sending me your number, as well?

Regards,

Logan Sanders

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Pitch meeting

Hello,

I’d be available during sophomore study hall, if that would work for you? If not, I can stop by after school with Dee.

Regards,

Logan Sanders

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Pitch Meeting

Logan,

I’ve got a feeling that you’re the de facto leader of this little trio, even though the current spread is quite clearly Poppy’s brainchild, and I must say, this is very promising in regards to your future on the paper. I’m sure you’ll do exceptional work with this.

Sophomore study hall works great. You’ll be peeking in on the paper, but I have a feeling you won’t mind that at all.

Best,

Mel Kramschissel, PhD.

(P.S.—Me pairing Lauren on this project is entirely out of selfish curiosity. Take from that what you will.)

⁂

patton is not sure if he has ever been more awkward eating a cherry danish in his whole life. he supposes that’s a pretty narrow gap to clear, but really, today has blown it out of the water.

most of the time whenever he’s around isadora, he feels like anything he does is dreadfully awkward, so it isn’t like this is news.

they’re together in isadora’s office, a small room just beside the studio; patton had offered to pick up supplies from remy’s café, so he’d brought her a tea and gotten a coffee for himself, and a little tray of assorted pastries. patton had grabbed the danish primarily because it was closest to him, and because isadora had already laid claim to a cruller that she’s been slowly picking at.

he winces a little as isadora takes a sip of her tea, pinky up, more preoccupied with the list in front of her. seriously. he went through years of etiquette training, he knows every fiddly little rule of silverware, he knows the various subconscious messages you can send while selecting a menu for the evening, and yet attempting to eat (or talk, or walk, or do most things) in the presence of isadora’s effortless, intimidating grace, it, well.

patton’s not the most refined person (anymore) but he knows he’s refined enough that he shouldn’t feel so buffoonish in isadora’s presence. he swallows his bite of danish, chasing it quickly with a sip of coffee.

“have you done the viennese waltz before?” he asks, just to break the silence.

“twice,” she says idly, turning the page. “well enough that i can remember the choreography and teach it to the children.”

“oh, good!” patton says. “good, good—um, not that you wouldn’t be able to pick it up really fast if you’d never done it before, since you’re obviously very good at dance being, um, being a dance teacher. and also a professional ballerina! even though i suppose ballerinas don’t really do waltzes, unless it’s, like, the waltz of the flowers or something, so i guess ballerinas do do waltzes! sometimes! what do i know, you know?” and immediately takes another sip of coffee because oh my god, patton, shut UP, he always gets like this whenever he and ms. prince have a one-on-one conversation, she’s so quiet and patton can’t help but word vomit because sometimes the silence gets agonizing.

isadora politely ignores him. patton takes another bite of his cherry danish and chews with fervor, because this way he won’t start blabbering about whatever comes to mind.

“all right,” isadora says at last, closing the handbook. “so, we’ll need to ensure that they know how to do the st. james bow, the viennese waltz, and the circle dance with the fans. that will all be my jurisdiction to lead, with you helping demonstrate, of course.”

“of course,” patton says, nodding like a bobblehead.

“—which means you shall take lead on the proper walk, proper dinner manners, and general courtesy, comportment, and etiquette.”

patton keeps nodding.

isadora takes another sip of tea and says, “so, we have approximately thirty-five kids coming, is that correct?”

“logan’s checking, but some of the chilton kids are being sent to other prep courses by their parents,” patton says, and frowns. “so—maybe a little less than that number, really. i can text him, if you want? i should text him—”

“that’s acceptable,” she says, waving him off. “he’ll be home from school soon enough, we can ask then.”

patton freezes, phone already in hand, before meekly puts it aside.

“i think we should begin as one big group,” isadora says, “and demonstrate the bows and curtsies, then we can split off into groups to cover the fans and the walk…”

and so patton mostly just listens and takes notes—he does not want to forget any part of this process—on how isadora thinks the teaching should be done. honestly, it’s a miracle she agreed to do it when roman pitched it to her, because one, she’s a teacher and he has basically no experience in teaching teenagers other than his own very curious kid, two, the studio is basically the only space big enough to hold all of them at once, and three, isadora has come up with a way to do this in such an organized way that’s almost militaristic. he’s very grateful that she’s agreed to this, and he tells her so once she’s finished informing him of the general outline she’s come up with for Get Cultured Day.

she nods in acknowledgement and says, “well, roman’s quite excited about the whole ordeal.”

patton grins at her. “i heard about their date—sounds like his dress is a definite statement piece.”

isadora huffs softly, shaking her head; she hasn’t yet put her hair up in a severe bun for her afternoon lessons, like she almost always does, though she’s in a pair of stretchy leggings and a loose sweatshirt that tumbles down to her mid-thighs. her hair’s in a ponytail, with a few black strands framing her face. it’s one of the only times that patton’s seen her hair out of a bun, though he’s never seen it down. he’d had no idea that her hair was so long—he guesses that it might come down to her ribs, maybe even her waist.

“roman wants everything to be a statement,” she says. “he got his dramatics from his father.”

“ah, but he makes it work, doesn’t he?” patton says. “both did, from what i hear, if a bit differently.”

“more than a bit,” isadora says.

“he wouldn’t be our roman without it, though, would he?” patton points out.

isadora’s lips twitch with what might be a smile.

“no,” isadora says. “no, he certainly wouldn’t.”

“wouldn’t have him any other way,” patton says. “love that kid, i’m thrilled to see what he’s gonna do—not just with the debutante ball, either.”

she’s certainly smiling now. “that’s the wonderful thing about children, isn’t it? watching them grow. like you’ve done with my boy, and i with yours.”

patton smiles, too, a little bittersweet. “gosh. we’re presenting them as adults to society. seems like yesterday roman was putting logan in a dress for a fashion show for the pair of us.”

“oh, yes,” she says, “and roman nearly dropped logan because he wanted to have a grand finale stunt he’d seen the older dancers do, i remember it well.”

patton snorts a little; after the initial rush of paternal panic when logan had clung to roman’s neck and it looked like they were both going down, it had been kind of funny to see logan, eyeshadow smeared over his eyes and lipstick messy on his mouth squawking in protest at roman even as roman had attempted to do the stunt again, even as isadora was telling him all about the importance of recovering from mistakes smoothly on stage.

“they’ve come a long way from a fashion show for the pair of us.”

“that they have,” isadora agrees, and offers an expression to patton that is the softest he’s ever seen from her. “i’m very fond of your boy, as well.”

patton can’t help but smile—he always smiles when he hears about people loving logan, because it’s logan, his son, of course he’s happy about logan being well-loved.

“we did a good job with them,” patton says musingly. “the weird parenting pool we’ve made—you, me, virgil. we turned out two amazing boys.”

“that we did,” she agrees. “and it looks like they’ll stick with each other. it’s rare for a young love to last so long, i know, but—”

“but they’ve been stuck on each other since they were five,” patton says, with a nod of agreement, and holds his breath as he reaches over to gently squeeze isadora’s hand, moving slowly enough that she could move away if she wanted to. she does not swat him away, so, success! “should we do the stereotypical thing now and start planning their wedding? i think logan and roman would be lovely spring grooms, personally, but i’m not totally set on season yet.”

isadora’s letting out that soft huff once again when the studio door opens, and patton turns to see who it is.

roman, his red backpack slung over one shoulder, him bracing the strap with one hand to unceremoniously dump it on the nearest bench, and scrolling through his phone with the other.

“¡mamá!” he calls.“¿qué peluca crees que se vería—?”

he pauses in his tracks, blinking, before he grins sheepishly at patton.

“hi, pa—mr. sanders,” he corrects. patton can feel the force of the arched eyebrow that ms. prince was giving him to make him correct himself.

“hi, roman,” patton says; he doesn’t know much spanish, so he isn’t really sure what roman’s asking. “how was school?”

“oh! good, good,” roman says. “the cheer squad finally figured out what uniform we’re gonna wear at the next game, and also they finally decided who’s officially escorting who—sasha’s mine, i’ve got a list i was gonna send to logan—”

“do i know sasha?” isadora asks.

“nah, i don’t think she ever took classes here,” roman says. “she’s one of the kids who comes in from the farm towns nearby, y’know?”

isadora nods, noting this, and roman hesitates, looking between patton and isadora, before—

“do you think you can keep a surprise a secret?” roman asks patton.

patton considers this. “well, i can definitely try my best!”

“oh, good, i want opinions,” roman bursts out and rushes over, showing off two pictures on his phone.

patton blinks at them; they look like two people, from what he can tell, with big hair and a lot of makeup, maybe a bit familiar, and if he could get a closer look ohhhh he knows where he recognizes them now.

“so, looking at wig alone, which one?” roman asks, and patton glances at roman, before he looks back at the pictures, and back at roman.

“you’re doing drag?”

“uh-huh,” roman says brightly. “as soon as i got my dress, i realized, like, i have to go full camp with it, you know? it’s this massive eighties monstrosity, i adore it. it’s definitely something a drag queen would wear, and i’ve been looking at makeup tutorials, and—”

“—and i was a private instructor for a few queens back in the day, so i know enough of the process to help,” isadora says, as if this is an utterly casual thing to say and not the most wild job he could imagine for her.

“you did?!”

“mm,” isadora says, sparing him a slightly bemused look, as if his surprise is completely unnecessary.

“i know, i had the same reaction,” roman says to patton. “my mom, isa-diva prince! anyways. from someone who’s seen a lot of drag queens, and someone who has been to a debutante ball—?”

“oh, yeah, i’ve attended one,” patton says, “i just never actually, y’know, debuted. but, um, lemme see the options again—?”

patton, as one might guess, does not know anything about wigs. he doesn’t have to, either, because isadora tuts at roman for one of his options, which is apparently subpar, and her son is going to make his drag debut fabulous—

roman, grinning, sends the link to isadora so that she can order the wig for him, drops a kiss on her cheek then patton’s, and calls, “i’m gonna go change and warm up to get ready for the baby’s class soon! you gotta remember to put in calls to get me an actual fairy drag mother!” and darts up the stairs, the door closing behind him.

patton turns to her, smiling. “drag?”

“drag,” isadora agrees. “he’s been watching some shows for long enough, i’ve been expecting him to at least express a little interest in attempting it for himself. and now he is absolutely exhilarated by the concept of wearing drag to an event that is so traditionally heteronormative and surprising everyone. well, except for you, now, i suppose.”

“everyone?”

“everyone,” isadora confirms. “he hasn’t told logan, or virgil. he wants to see their reactions.”

patton laughs, a little bit. “that seems… very roman.”

isadora huffs softly and agrees, “remember what we said about dramatics?”

⁂

New Groupchat

Logan Sanders, Dee Slange, Poppy McMaster, 1 Unknown Number

Logan Sanders: I’ve taken the liberty of putting everyone involved in the debutante spread for the newspaper into one group text. This is Logan Sanders.

Unknown Number: Hi, Logan, I’m Lauren! We’ve got a friend in common, you’re in the GSA with my boyfriend Kai.

Dee Slange: dee slange here

Poppy McMaster: I’m Poppy McMaster.

Logan Sanders: I was wondering where I’d heard your name before. Yes, Kai’s talked about you.

Groupchat has been titled: Franklin Debutante Spread Team

Lauren Patrikis: Okay, so, I think I should get to the debutante lessons about fifteen or so minutes early, just to get my camera set up with the lighting and to get a general idea of the space. Do either of you have ideas on who you want to focus on in your pieces, so I have an idea of who to photograph?

Dee Slange: i’m going to interview ana and janey definitely, plus logan’s dad and the ballet teacher, but other than that, I haven’t settled on who I’m getting quotes from

Lauren Patrikis: Ana and Janey, got it. Logan?

Logan Sanders: One of my pieces is a column from me to explain where the idea came from, and the other one will be focused on dress shopping, but Kram said she got photos for that already.

Lauren Patrikis: Oh yeah lol I went with a few of the other Clairs to get their dresses, so I got that taken care of. Good thing they wanted me there for Instagram otherwise we’d be depending on student-submitted cellphone shots Lauren Patrikis: Not that those aren’t nice, but. You know. Gives off a certain vibe.

Dee Slange: yeah, really convenient for us that you’ve withdrawn your participation into the ball and turned it into something for our direct gain

Logan Sanders: You’re a Clair?

Dee Slange: don’t be obvious logan Dee Slange: ofc she’s a clair

Lauren Patrikis: Haha yeah I’m a Clair

Poppy McMaster: Really??? Poppy McMaster: Can I text you with a few questions about that Poppy McMaster: And about your plans on going into journalism after high school

Lauren Patrikis: Ofc! Love to help a fellow journalism gal, and that you’re an aspiring Clair makes it all the better, girls gotta stick together, right? Lauren Patrikis: no offense boys

Logan Sanders: None taken. We’re all feminists here.

Lauren Patrikis: Now, with all the planning out of the way, can I ask your guys’ specific interests when it comes to the paper? Lauren Patrikis: I’m planning on applying for an editor position next fall, and fingers crossed I get EIC, but I’d be happy with managing or copy, really, and it’d be cool to get an idea of some of the juniors I’d (hopefully!) be working with

Dee Slange is typing…

Logan Sanders is typing...

⁂

“logan?”

logan glances up from his plate, where he’s been spearing scalloped potatoes without really lifting them to his mouth. virgil and patton are giving him twin looks of what might be parental concern, and logan grimaces without really intending to.

they’re having dinner, all three of them, which logan has been carefully edging around calling family dinner in his head, because if he says it aloud, he’s pretty sure it’ll spook virgil or patton. it’s a good dinner, too; the butcher was having a sale, so virgil got three good cuts of steak and made scalloped potatoes and asparagus and herbed butter, with something brought under a round tin that is now in the fridge. patton’s eyes have been darting to it, then back to virgil, trying to evaluate what dessert fulfills virgil’s stringent ideals for nutrition.

“sorry,” logan says, and eats the scalloped potato that he’s been butchering.

he is also slightly certain that this is their way of having a date night without leaving logan home alone on a week night. he is also edging carefully around that in his mind. he is very happy that they’re dating. it’s just that if he gives any thought to the implications for what they might do after their date it would be, as he would have declared ten years ago, icky.

the trouble is, logan reflects, is that it’s much more nerve-wracking to come out on another person’s behalf than his own coming out process was.

as he’s chewing, he reflects; it’s not like virgil is going to have a negative reaction, given that his boyfriend has been openly trans for sixteen years, and in regards to the dress tailoring, the worst virgil can do is say no.

“no need to be sorry, kiddo,” patton says. “busy thinking about that awesome double-pager—”

“—double truck,” logan corrects—

“—which, again, we're so thrilled for you, or is something on your mind?”

logan sighs to himself. there’s an opening if he’s ever heard one.

“dee still needs a tailor for his dress,” he says, and then he turns his attention to virgil. “i am wondering if you would be willing to offer your services.”

virgil’s face twists up.

“look,” virgil says, sets down his fork, and sighs. “i’m glad that you’ve got—i dunno, an understanding or whatever with this guy. you’ve got two more years at that school and i’m glad you’ve settled into things there. but—”

“but,” logan repeats quietly.

“—but,” virgil agrees, looks at patton, who has a polite listening expression on his face, and then virgil looks back at logan again, “look. you might have heard some things about my teenage days around town, and you’re almost an adult, so i don’t really hold any compunctions with telling you i was an asshole. a lot of teenagers are assholes, and some of them even manage to grow out of it. as a former teenager who was also an asshole, i can tell you that i got into some scrapes here and there. now, did i punch a few people on my own? ‘course i did. i was an asshole, i got into fights. but i can tell you that even in the depths of my stupid teenage actions, i never manipulated someone into punching someone else for me.”

logan absorbs this with a slight dip of his chin, a silent go on.

“these are just my two cents,” virgil adds, firmly, “you can do whatever you want, it’s your life, and you’re the one who’s at that school for hours and hours a day, you have a better idea of how to navigate things there than me. but. to add in my two cents, i don’t think the kind of guy who manipulates someone into doing physical harm on his behalf and has been openly very competitive with you to the point of doing something like that is a—a good buddy to hang around.”

he spreads his hands. “i could definitely be wrong. but—”

“but those are your two cents,” logan murmurs. “right.”

patton’s chewing at the inside of his cheek, now. “well,” patton offers timidly, and then snaps his mouth closed, clearly not wanting to spill the secret.

“i know you believe the best in people, patton, and that’s great,” virgil says, reaching over to squeeze patton’s hand. “i’m the jerk in this relationship, i’m aware of that, i can be an overprotective asshole, so i couldn’t sit by and just not say anything. you have the main call, obviously, logan’s your kid and this is your house.”

logan sighs a little, meeting patton’s eyes.

“he said i could tell him,” logan says, nodding his head in virgil’s direction. “he needs the tailor to be able to alter the dress without his parents’ interference. or so i gathered.”

patton sighs, too, except it’s more in relief, and he reaches over his other hand, to clasp virgil’s hand between both of his.

“dee’s…” patton says quietly, and then he straightens up a little. “he’s like me, honey.”

virgil’s brow furrows, ever so slightly. patton tilts his head. they’re looking each other in the eyes, a silent conversation, and patton arches his eyebrows at virgil, as if to punctuate whatever thought they’re nonverbally passing between them.

and then—

“oh,” virgil says blankly, and then he looks to logan. “he’s trans.”

it’s not a question, but logan nods anyways.

“he kind of accidentally mentioned it when he was over for the gsa posters, a month or so ago,” patton says, still quiet. “we promised we wouldn’t tell.”

“‘course not,” virgil says, still with that blank tone, reaching over to pat his hand. “you wouldn’t out someone, i wouldn’t want you to, not without their consent, but why—?”

“the dress,” logan says. “he needs someone to alter the dress to hide his binder. i don’t think he can go to any tailor his parents would bring up, they wouldn’t want him to wear one.”

virgil’s brow furrows. “why not?”

“his father never quite managed to grow out of it,” patton says primly, avoiding the swear. “apparently he found a wife who didn’t, either.”

and so the whole story behind why they’re really doing the debutante ball comes out slowly, as they’re finishing up their meal. virgil sits and listens, brow still furrowed, as logan explains how he’d come up with the idea, and patton provides a little further insight into dee’s background, and logan tells him as much as he can about dee’s house, without disclosing his grandmother’s illness, and by the time they both finish, a deep line’s marring virgil’s usually smooth, pale forehead.

“so,” virgil says slowly. “let me get this gay. you—” he points to logan, “came up with this whole idea to hide dee’s status, and you hid that behind the idea of doing this for feminism.”

“well, two things can be true,” logan points out, very reasonably, he thinks. “it started as just dee, sure, but i still despise the tradition of it and the sexist absurdity of it all should be pointed out.”

“and you,” he says, lightly bumping patton with his shoulder, “are hosting the Get Cultured day, plus a sleepover with the pair of them?”

“there’s—more,” logan says haltingly. “in dee’s life. i think dad could be a help with. i’m not at liberty to say.”

“christ, of course there is,” virgil mutters, rubbing at his forehead, as if he’s developing a headache. “right. i’m getting the chocolate-dipped strawberries—” patton brightens—“and the prosecco.”

“ooh, prosecco,” patton says. “fancy.”

“can i try?” logan asks, more out of curiosity than anything else.

virgil pops the cork, and then turns his eyes to patton, attentively waiting for an answer. patton considers this.

“pour him a little one,” patton says to virgil, who nods, and then proceeds to pour logan the tiniest flute of prosecco he can, before pouring more substantial servings for himself and patton.

“this has fruity flavors of green apple, juicy peach and ripe lemon, framed by hints of minerality,” virgil reads aloud, before he sets down the bottle, passes over the glasses, and then fetches the tin.

logan takes a cautious sip. patton is watching him do so closely, his hands under his chin, pinning logan with a curious look.

“this tastes like none of those things,” logan informs him. it mostly tastes like fizz, and, if he holds it in his mouth long enough, eventually just bitter grape juice.

“yeah, the whole flavor profile things tend to be bullshit,” virgil says, setting the tin at the center of the table and uncovering it to show off a collection of chocolate-dipped strawberries, drizzled over with dark or white chocolate, sitting in cupcake wrappers, and patton oohs and aahs.

“don’t say that around my family, or else you’ll be treated of stories of about thirty different wineries,” patton says dryly. “mom thinks she could have been a sommelier in another life.”

“don’t tell me you did the grape-crushing thing with your feet,” virgil says to patton, amused.

“i can neither confirm or deny,” patton says, taking his own sip of prosecco. “ooh, this is good!”

“thanks,” virgil says, then, to logan, “just as a pro-tip for when you’re twenty-one, go for the highest rated wine you can find at the lowest price.”

“highest rated, lowest price, understood,” logan says, and claims three strawberries for himself before his dad can take all the ones with white chocolate.

“and,” virgil adds, “if you find yourself around pretentious people—god knows you will, with your grandparents—just swirl it and sniff it and say oh, the bouquet is lovely, is this oak? or whatever.”

“oh, i can teach you the pretentious way you’re meant to drink wine!” patton says brightly, and so virgil and logan are treated to an informal lesson of how to best hold wine glasses (at the stem, so your fingers don’t transfer heat to the wine, which seems logical) and to swirl them (“you’re supposed to do this with wider glasses and wines that aren’t bubbly mostly, but it helps oxygenate the wine so you can smell it better,” patton says wisely) and how to aerate it while you’re drinking (“you’re kidding,” logan says, but obligingly attempts to suck in air and not dribble prosecco from his mouth simultaneously) and the three of them try their very best to drink their wine in as ostentatious a fashion as possible.

once logan’s had his fill of strawberries, and finished his tiny helping of prosecco, he helps wash the dishes and graciously bows out of the kitchen as subtly as he can. virgil and patton pour themselves thirds, kissing as they clink glasses when they think logan’s out of sight.

logan thinks he’s managed to be a fairly good third wheel to this date.

⁂

“well, i’ve got mine hanging in the closet,” patton says. “have you gotten yours yet?”

virgil groans; he’s feeling much too pleasant to think about such things.

patton’s sitting almost in his lap; his thighs are slung over virgil’s, at any rate, and virgil’s got his free hand resting on patton’s thigh, absently kneading at the muscle, savoring the warmth and weight of him. patton’s got his free hand playing with virgil’s hair; they’re both finishing off the last of the prosecco and talking about the debutante ball.

virgil knocks the last of his back, and sets the flute aside.

“i’ll get mine while you and the kids are off for Get Cultured day,” virgil grumbles. “a tux. ugh. no one more than the people who’re absolutely necessary will see me in that.”

patton smiles at him, fondness making his eyes go softer and sweeter than usual; his cheeks are pink, probably from the prosecco.

“you’re forgetting that we’re all gonna see you wear it at the ball,” patton points out, voice sugary, and virgil groans, tilting his head back, and therefore into patton’s hand; patton bears the weight of it gently, his hand bracing his skull, giggling even as he does.

“and don’t forget your white gloves,” patton points out, and virgil groans louder.

“oh, stop,” patton says, but any scolding attempt is ruined by how tender he sounds, the way he carefully tilts virgil’s head so he’s looking at him; virgil’s eyes trace along his cupid’s bow lips, lush and wet from the prosecco, the curve of his jaw, his eyes, a loving expression in them that makes virgil’s chest ache with devotion, his cheeks, going pinker the longer virgil looks. his eyelashes brush against his cheeks when he looks down for a moment, unable to hold eye contact.

patton seems to rally, shaking himself a little, before he says with great dignity, “you know looking at me like that makes me go to bits.”

virgil tries for a smirk, but it probably comes out soppy and moonstruck. “do i?”

“you know very well,” patton huffs, before he sits up a little and says, “and. you’re all deeply touched that roman asked you, i know you are.”

virgil’s the one to break eye contact, now, looking down at patton’s legs in his lap and mumbling excuses that sound weak even to himself. honestly, it’s a bit of a miracle he manages to get it out around the lump in his throat.

“i was talking to isadora, about our weird little circle of parenting,” patton continues, his tone victorious. “you, me, her. the boys. our boys.”

virgil squeezes patton’s thigh again, just listening.

“logan and roman are credits to you,” patton says. “not just us.”

virgil squirms a little. sentimentality is still not his strong suit. “you—and ms. prince—are the ones who raised them, took care of them day and night. i helped out where i could. and,” he kisses patton’s cheek, “you’re the ones who let me into your lives, so. they’re still majorly credits to you.”

“mm,” patton says, and looks at him with half-lidded, slightly mischievous eyes. “we’ll call it even, how about that?”

virgil snorts again and says, “if you think i’m about to claim credit for an isadora prince production, i hope you’ll plan out my funeral.”

patton swats his shoulder, but conversation veers away from virgil’s role in the kids’ lives.

good. if they go too much into parental feelings after virgil’s had three glasses of prosecco, he’s pretty sure he’ll get all annoyingly teary, and he’s pretty sure patton would think it cute and sweet, but he doesn’t exactly plan on getting all annoyingly teary to conclude this date.

⁂

the excuse that he’s told logan is that dee is coming early to survey the studio and help set things up.

the fact of it all is that he could probably drive his range rover in fifty laps around this town and he could probably still find something new to surprise him, like some kind of small-town culture shock.

for example—his range rover sticks out like a sore thumb. he has already spotted five people gawking at it as he drives around. two people even elbowed their walking companion and pointed.

they’re in for an influx of bmws and mercedes’ bought with daddy’s money—dee supposes it must be a car enthusiast’s idea of christmas to be able to see all the chilton students’ cars unexpectedly flood this tiny town, whose ideas of automobile finery are probably topping out at a prius.

he spies the punnily-named cat-themed store that he’d been so boggled by the last time he was here, and the community garden, and the town is just as kitschy as it was at night, except now he can see better in the light of day, instead of the light of fairy lights and wrought-iron street lamps.

now, he can see a local newsstand. he didn’t even know those still existed. on the same level of outdated absurdity, there is something called a mailboxes etc., which he can only hope is this town’s excuse for a post office. there is also a shoe repair store, because apparently these people are right out of the victorian era and have employed cobblers in this town.

there is a store called harry’s house of twinkle lights, which only sells twinkle lights, how on earth is that a sustainable business model?

incongruously, there is a tattoo shop right beside the famed virgil’s diner he’s heard logan talk about so much. he spends a lot of time parked in the street, staring at that. a tattoo parlor. well, at least something in this town has evolved past the ideals of a fifties housewife.

(there is a black lives matter sign in a place of pride in the window, along with a rainbow flag. there are a lot of pride flags waving brightly in the bleak wind, of all stripes and colors. there are black lives matter signs staked in a lot of front yards, actually.)

(in his neighborhood, there are no black lives matter signs staked on the professionally manicured lawns. he isn’t even allowed to have one in his room. he’s tried. his parents threw it out.)

dee checks the time, clears his throat forcefully, and moves to park as close to the dance studio as he can.

he’d seen it before; he’d watched as logan got all moony-eyed and reverent at his boyfriend dancing in the window, without the boyfriend’s awareness. it isn’t particularly difficult to find—it’s in what passes as the town square, which he supposes makes it as a technicality of being the shape of a square.

it’s also easy to spot because logan is out front, along with another boy their age; he recognizes him from logan’s birthday party last fall.

he hops out of the car, locking it as he does so (the town may look like it’s a fifties housewife’s dream, but he doesn’t know the crime rates of this town off the top of his head, and his sleepover bag is right in the back, looking prime for someone to steal, but the most they’d get is a decent bag, some clothes and toiletries, and his phone charger, so there.) logan glances at him, holding up one half of the sign; the boy (roman, dee remembers) glowers at him behind logan’s back, and dee tries his very hardest not to grin. thank goodness, something fun today.

“i didn’t know you had your license,” logan comments. he’s in jeans, but otherwise he still looks like an accountant (an actual accountant, not the wink-wink nudge-nudge joking kind that’s been popularized over that one song that says the accountant is a cover for really being a sex worker)—he’s wearing a collared shirt and tie, and a jacket on top of that.

“turned sixteen in february,” dee says.

“well,” logan says. “happy belated birthday, i suppose. roman, would you pass me the tape—?”

even dee has to admit roman is very well-dressed. he is wearing a black overcoat that is so nice that dee would not be embarrassed to wear it over a collared shirt, a red-and-black plaid sweater, and a pair of black, pleated, high-waisted pants and a pair of black booties. it’s like he’s stepped off someone’s painstakingly curated ✨ winter fashion ✨ pinterest board.

roman, however, is still glowering at dee even as he ensures his half of the sign will hold and passes logan the tape.

dee tucks his hands into his pockets. the wind is sweeping in their direction, which means his cape is flowing dramatically in the wind. it’s like he choreographed it. he hopes he looks like a norse god sweeping down to enact destruction.

“roman prince, i remember,” dee says smoothly. “we had a conversation at logan’s birthday party. nice to see you again.”

roman’s scowl deepens. “i can’t say that’s mutual, villain,” he declares, and takes a moment to ensure logan’s got a grasp on the sign (he does, he’s taping the last corner to the window) sweeps dramatically off into the studio with his nose in the air. dee can’t help but laugh.

logan simply looks chagrined.

“villain,” dee repeats, delighted.

logan rolls his eyes at dee and says, “my dad is just about the only one who’s forgiven the louise incident from you, so. be cautious.”

“when you say the only one,” dee begins.

“virgil and roman are the primary grudge-holders in the family,” logan says absently, too busy smearing a hand over the corner to ensure it’ll stick to the window to catch dee blinking at him, caught off-guard—family?—before logan continues, “and i suppose ms. prince, but ms. prince terrifies most she interacts with anyways, so the fact that she’ll hold a grudge should be indecipherable to those who are not practiced in conversing with her.”

“terrifying?” he asks.

logan looks away from the window at last, the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. if dee didn’t know any better, he’d think that logan was being mischievous.

“oh, yes,” he says. “i’m uncertain if you’ll fear her or love her. perhaps both in equal measure.”

forget the tattoo parlor, this ms. prince woman is by far the most fascinating thing about this stupidly charming town.

dee looks at the sign. DEBUTANTE BALL TRAINING HERE, in logan’s neat hand, and then underneath it in a scrawling, well-practiced calligrapher’s cursive, GET CULTURED DAY! and a variety of other doodles around it. there are sparkles. he briefly entertains the mental image that logan is actually a sparkle enthusiast behind closed doors, but also, dee has seen his boyfriend, so. he’s got a feeling on who insists on sparkles in that relationship.

“well,” dee says, and nods to the door. “shall we?”

logan opens the door as an answer.

dee steps through, pausing just for a moment to sweep his eyes over the dance studio.

there are what look like old church pews in the hall, which leads back to what looks like a small room and a set of stairs; it is, he knows just by looking, renovated from an old building in town—a barn, maybe, or an old house, but one can hardly tell once they’re inside it.

he steps into the actual studio. the studio itself has two walls lined with mirrors, one with the windows facing out into the street, and a few windows facing out into the hallway. there are three round tables shoved to one half of the room; patton sanders, in one of his sweaters (a muted shade of plum, today) and jeans; a short, brown-skinned woman with her black hair swept back into an impressively tight bun.

they both glance over at the sound of someone entering; patton brightens, the woman frowns.

“dee!” patton says. “happy you made it, kiddo, c’mon in!”

the woman must be ms. prince.

ah. roman prince. this is roman’s mother.

“this is isadora prince, but she’s ms. prince to you,” patton prattles on cheerfully, seemingly ignoring the fact that the woman is sizing him up—predator knows predator, dee supposes, so he does not feel any compunctions about doing the same.

“she’ll be teaching all the dance stuff, the movement things,” patton says, “and i’ve got how to behave yourselves in a fancy-schmancy setting like this. plus, like, the proper walk. now, it’s been a few years since i’ve taken lessons, so i might be a bit rusty, but—”

dee stops paying attention, then, too busy tilting his head ever so slightly to survey ms. prince. she looks almost clinically disinterested, except for a unyielding, rigid look in her eyes that simply gives away impressions of stubbornness, but nothing of observational value. dee could have guessed she’s stubborn, she’s a single mother, as far as he knows, and a ballet teacher. aspects of both of those things require a certain amount of tenacity.

the closest thing dee can amount her expression to is a no-nonsense substitute teacher waiting for class to calm down, with the eerie sense of preternatural calm that the entire class will be in trouble far beyond their wildest dreams.

it absolutely does nothing to him. he does not react at all. if, perhaps, there is a chill sent down his spine, it is obviously because the heating system in here is inadequate and the old, shoddy architecture is clearly allowing a draft.

“...think it should be okay!” patton finishes, smiling still, completely unaware of what has come to pass. “‘course, i haven’t been around teenagers in a while that aren’t you, logan, and roman, but i manage the part-timer kids at the inn okay, so fingers crossed it’s the same for the chilton kids.”

ms. prince looks away from him. he does not feel anything that could possibly be likened to someone removing the last piece of rubble that was pinning someone down, and at last they could scramble away.

“you shall manage just fine,” isadora says. it sounds less like a comforting statement and more like the prediction of a military officer before a battle.

patton nods, seemingly bolstered by this. dee does not even try to imagine what would have happened if he wasn’t.

“can we practice?” roman says, doing his very best to pretend that dee isn’t there; dee rolls his eyes, even as patton exclaims “‘course we can!” and logan leans in to murmur, “roman usually assists his mother with dance classes, he’ll do the same for the dances we’ll need to learn.”

isadora moves to turn on music, and patton and roman turn to face each other. patton smiles at him encouragingly, and, as if unable to help it, roman smiles back as the music comes in, with an old-timey blare of horns.

“may i have this dance?” patton offers gallantly.

roman tee-hees and takes on a nasally tone reminiscent of most rich brats as portrayed on television, “i dunno, do you have a trust fund?” before he turns and declares, in a passable teacher’s tone, “always make sure, ladies, we’re mocking the original purpose of the ball! gold-dig away!”

it makes patton laugh and logan smile, but roman takes patton’s hand without waiting for his answer.

patton promptly assumes form—dee isn’t sure why he’s surprised it’s picture-perfect, but he is anyways—and roman does too, their hands clasped together, roman’s opposite hand on patton’s arm and patton’s hand resting on roman’s shoulder blade.

patton counts aloud as they sweep across the room, “one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three,” for his own benefit or for roman’s, he isn’t sure.

if not for that, if not for the surroundings of this dance studio, if not for their relatively casual state of dress, if not for the frank sinatra in the background, dee could easily believe that they were leading the opening dance of the actual debutante ball.

if roman were in his debutante gown, if patton were in his tuxedo, if the studio surrounding them was replaced by a beautiful, marble ballroom, then they would have been the jealousies of everyone at the ball.

roman, dee observes, is good. patton dances with the practiced air of someone who learned how to do this years ago, and roman’s ability to keep pace is so well-matched that dee passively wonders if they make a habit of dancing together; if perhaps they share a common hobby of attending sock-hops.

he recalls the dance-a-thon poster he’d seen while he was in town. he really cannot discount this theory.

“dee?”

dee looks away from the pair of them twirling around the room, roman’s coat flaring with them the way his skirt eventually will.

logan gestures to the table, and holds up a handful each of forks and knives. “would you help me with these?”

you expect me to do what, he nearly says, before he recalls his excuse to get here early was to help set up, and so he heads over to the table, logan handing him the forks and knives, dee setting the table as if for a proper three-course dinner.

he watches patton laugh as he dips roman, roman laughing too, their faces lighting up with it; he glances over out of the corner of his eyes, and he sees logan’s eyes gone soft, the way that dee has only ever seen him do once, that night of the poster-making when he had watched roman without being aware. he’s stopped unfolding the cloth napkins to stare at roman, that look on his face, the corners of his mouth lifted up; he has the fond expression of someone wed to their husband for fifteen years, watching them do the thing they love, not watching boyfriend of less than three months.

huh. logan sanders is a sap. he honestly wouldn’t have guessed it.

he mentally analyzes his memories of seeing logan and roman together; at the chilton dance, logan watching him through the window, and now. all three times, logan had looked at roman like he'd hung the moon and stars.

it bears further observation, for certain.

dee clears his throat loudly, just for the pleasure of seeing logan jump, come back into himself, and hastily resume placing napkins.

dee smirks to himself as he straightens the dessert spoon.

all right. that is also his major motivation to continue the observation—the fun of watching logan get flustered.

⁂

so maybe patton hasn’t thought about the way that a lot of teenagers are until virgil brought it up over dinner, but honestly, patton doesn’t think it’s his fault he overlooked that.

his track record with teenagers isn’t exactly a stellar one: when he was one, he was something of a wild child, and the other teenagers only ever really liked him at parties, and their opinion declined even more once he came out, and then that opinion crashed straight through rock bottom to start digging for the center of the earth when he got pregnant.

then he dropped out of school, and moved here, and he didn’t really have much interaction with other teenagers in sideshire, except for the occasional part-timer at the inn, who mostly treated him cordially, if a bit awkwardly.

then he kept working with those teenage part-timers, who were technically coworkers, and most of them carried that same generally friendly attitude throughout the years; then his boys turned thirteen, but he’d been so used to the pair of them, the only turmoil they’d had to deal with were occasional emotional outbursts and boy drama.

and now, well. dee, too, he supposes. he isn’t sure how much dee qualifies as a typical teenager, though, what with him dressing like a victorian gentleman on an off day and his apparent secret that logan’s hinted at but not said.

and now an incoming horde of chilton students. the last generation of chilton students he’d dealt with while he was at chilton, and he’s pretty sure those opinions are still slow-cooking in the lava in the core of the earth. he isn’t sure how a new generation of chilton students is going to be. for one, they’re chilton students. for another, they’re teenagers.

so patton is maybe a little nervous about today!

the boys are milling about the room, checking on everything. roman seems to have settled on the strategy of ignoring dee, which seems to suit dee just fine, even amuse him, a little bit. logan goes back and forth between helping the pair of them—dee with the tables, roman with nametags—and isadora is scrolling through her phone, checking to make sure she has waltz-appropriate music queued up, and patton…

well. patton is nervously pacing around the room, trying to see if he can poke in somewhere in help, but apparently they’ve all got it covered, so. patton’s job is apparently pacing.

unsurprisingly, the sideshire kids filter in first; brick comes bearing what they say is a gift from virgil, handing patton a tray full of heat-preserving cups for the four of them, and patton eagerly removes the top to sniff it only to pout that it’s decaf before he passes out the other three drinks to isadora, roman, and logan.

“hi,” brick says to dee.

“hello,” dee says warily, hovering near the corner of the room.

“wicked cool cape,” brick says. “you’ve got the phantom of the opera thing going on, then?”

dee lifts his eyebrows, looks as if he is about to do something that will be great fun, and says in a tone that is mildly threatening, “was that a joke about my vitiligo?”

“okay!” patton breaks in, as brick starts to look like they’re about to fall all over themselves in apology, “brick, kiddo, this is dee, he goes to logan’s school. how about you go on over with roman and get your nametag, huh?”

brick scampers off with a squeaky “sorry!” and patton turns to dee.

“be nice,” he says, in the same tone he’d use when logan was in kindergarten and demanding to know how on earth the other kids were unaware of what he’d thought to be universal common knowledge, like the heat death of the universe.

“it’s too easy,” dee complains, gesturing to his face.

“be,” patton repeats pointedly, “polite. i know that wasn’t the best thing for them to say, it was not a very good comparison, but they were talking about your clothes, not your face.”

with a facial expression much the same as six-year-old logan grumbling about how it isn’t his fault the universe might one day reach thermodynamic equilibrium, dee sighs before he goes over to pick up a nametag off the table.

“don’t worry, brick,” roman says, giving dee a dirty look, “that villain is vile to everyone he meets. it’s such a disaster that’s probably where he got his name. dee-saster.”

patton looks between them. brick, looking very much like they would like to duck out of this conversation now please; roman, victorious in his nicknamery even though patton can admit quietly to himself that it’s not exactly roman’s best work; and dee, who looks entirely unaffected.

and then he smiles. a placid, calm smile. he looks rather mild-mannered, actually. the room is quiet.

“you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid,” dee returns, and roman looks terribly offended, his hand flying to his chest.

“exCUSE you,” roman says very loudly, “i am very happily and VERY CONTENTEDLY in LOVE with the HANDSOME man whose face you chose to MAR through—through your machiavellian manipulations and jealousy of logan’s many talents like you’re the stepmother in snow white! how dare you! i—ew!” he says, sounding like that one character in the canadian sitcom he’s trying to make logan watch. he’s clearly about to continue, but patton takes that as his cue to cut in.

“boys,” patton says loudly. he waits for them both to be quiet before he continues.

“be polite,” he repeats sternly, putting his hands on his hips. “be nice. we are here today to learn about absurd, sexist traditions that we all plan on going in and upheaving, and any good heist team needs to get along! am i clear?”

roman sighs but grumbles out an affirmative; dee rolls his eyes but does the same.

“good,” patton says, and points. “dee, please go help logan. roman—stay here.”

the boys, at last, split up.

“sorry,” brick repeats to dee.

dee shrugs. “i’ve heard it before.”

“still,” brick says, “i’m really sorry. patton’s right. that was a bad comparison to make, i should’ve said mr. darcy or something,” and then brick proceeds to stand as close to isadora’s general vicinity as they dare, as if her mere presence will protect them from any other catastrophes.

it probably will, honestly.

any awkwardness in the air doesn’t linger very long, though, because some other sideshire kids come in; elliott, for one, so they can go stand with brick, along with a few members of the cheerleading squad, which means that roman is distracted. there’s a girl with a camera he doesn’t recognize, but patton’s guessing she’s probably with the franklin, because she splits straight off to talk to logan and dee, stopping briefly to introduce herself to him and isadora, before she takes up residency in a corner and starts adjusting her camera’s settings.

dee and logan stand in the back, heads tilted toward each other, speaking quietly; he catches something about how brick’s in the theater program at school with roman before patton turns his attention to asking isadora a question about waltzing. at one point, brick accidentally catches dee’s eyes, and rather than scowl at them or anything, dee, instead, nods, as if in acceptance. brick’s shoulders relax, they nod back, and they turn to resume talking to elliott.

huh. that’s something.

he doesn’t really have time to think on it, though, because then the first wave of chilton kids start arriving.

the difference between the sideshire kids and the chilton kids is immediately stark, even though it’s not anything as visible as the quality of their clothes, or the way they look, or like all the chilton kids are wearing their blue-and-navy and the sideshire kids are wearing their red-and-white.

it’s in the way they’re acting.

the chilton kids are all in clumps of each other, and patton’s sure that logan and dee could tell him the precise clique each of them are in; a group of girls whisper behind hands and giggle together, and the sideshire cheerleaders look immediately ticked off at the sound of it. a group of chilton boys bump up against each other and ruffle hair in typical teenage rough-housing fashion, scoffing at their surroundings together, and the sideshire boys—if patton’s looking at them right, he thinks that group’s mostly the hockey team—look like they’re ready to go over and join in with the rough-housing with a much less friendly intention.

so. patton might have his work cut out for him. he'd say the same for isadora, but he holds no illusions about the fact that isadora will be able to rule her half of teenagers with a firm hand.

once the time ticks to the new hour, patton looks at isadora, who simply nods at him.

right. patton’s doing this on his own, then.

he steps forward into the front of the room, clapping a few times to get everyone’s attention; their conversations die down, and all of their eyes turn on him.

all of their eyes. they’re all watching him. waiting for what he’s going to say. a group of teenagers. yay. so fun.

why is patton’s mouth suddenly so dry.

patton wipes his suddenly sweaty hands on his pants, trying to pass it off like he’s putting his hands in his pockets.

“hi!” he says, in a bright and cheerful tone that sounds fake to his own ears. “i’m patton sanders, some of you might know me as the manager of the independence inn here and town, others might just know me as logan’s dad.”

logan hunches his shoulders slightly when some chilton kids look back at him, looking so much like virgil for a second that patton’s heart pulses a little stronger than usual.

“—and this is ms. prince,” patton continues, gesturing to isadora, “she owns the ballet studio here in town and has been very gracious to let us use this space and to join in on teaching you kids how to waltz properly. she’s a professional ballerina, so this is a really unique opportunity for everyone!”

isadora crosses her arms over her chest. the kids do not look particularly enthused about this really unique opportunity.

“okay,” patton says. “um—if you haven’t already, go ahead and grab your nametags over there at that table, that’s roman, he’s gonna help us out with the waltzing today. we’re splitting you up into two groups, we’ve already assigned—”

some of the kids groan.

“—you’re probably still going to be with some of your friends!” patton continues. “um, it’s just the two groups, one of them will learn dancing first and the other one will get a review of the proper etiquette to have at these sorts of events, and then we’ll switch, and then we can convene back together as one big group to answer any questions you might have, or practice the dance all together, does that sound good?”

there’s a chorus of teenagers grumbling in agreement.

“okay!” patton says, putting a lot of effort into maintaining his bright tone. “if you’ll take a look at your name tag, red dots are with ms. prince first, blue dots are with me, all right?”

there isn’t even a chorus of teenagers grumbling in agreement this time.

“um,” patton says, then, because it seems like the thing to do, “any questions?”

it is a terrible mistake.

“didn’t you get pregnant when you were sixteen?” one of the chilton girls with a very familiar pair of eyes and a strikingly similar chin (god, if this kid is somehow related to shauna christy, and she probably is, patton’s going to have a terrible time trying to teach her anything) and patton clears his throat.

“i, um—yep. yep, i did—”

“wait, you got pregnant?” another chilton student says.

“i’m trans,” patton says, really hoping this isn’t going where it’s about to go, “so, any questions about the ball—”

the first girl, the one who might be related to shauna christy, makes a loud noise as if she is about to ask another question, but there is something louder that even makes patton jump a little.

the entire room swivels to look at what has caused the noise, only to see dee with his hands hovering casually in the air, as if he’s still holding the massive block that isadora uses as a standing prop.

“christy,” dee says, still with that same calm voice (aha! a tiny voice in patton’s head says, i was right, she IS related to shauna!) “if you continue this line of questioning, everyone in this room will know precisely why the words ‘snyder’s hanover’ are significant to you.”

christy goes incredibly pale, and she squeaks out, “how the hell could you know about—?”

“well, i didn’t,” dee says, looking remarkably pleased with himself. “not for sure, anyways, but now i do.”

the chilton students turn curious eyes to christy, who goes beet red.

dee surveys them all with the same air patton's mother gets whenever she’s observing the way a new maid cleans to see if it’s to her satisfaction.

“i know at least five significant things about every chilton student in this room,” he continues imperiously. “if you all don’t shut up and let us get this over with so i can get a unique college essay and not just a story about how i was adopted at a young age that thousands of other students will surely have, i will sow social chaos unlike anything this school has ever seen. those of you who will recall the nettie eckstrand incident will know that is not an idle threat.”

a tall, blond boy snorts and says, “what are you gonna do about it? swim back home to haiti?”

“hey,” patton says sternly, but before he can really lecture this boy, dee holds up a gloved hand.

dee looks at the boy, sweeping his eyes up and down him. the entire room is silent; though the chilton kids are clearly waiting with bated breath, even the sideshire kids seem like they’re interested, a fresh batch of drama and gossip that doesn’t affect their school at all. the boy is all smirking, postured swagger, every inch the stereotypical young, rich white boy who’d known no consequences.

then dee looks him dead in the eyes and says, “pj harvey.”

okay, look, patton doesn’t know why a musical artist who was very popular in the nineties has to do with anything, but before he can say anything the boy surges forward, as if to fight him—

“HEY, HEY!” patton yells—

—and he’s stopped in his tracks by two of his friends who step in to hold him back, and he huffs, straightening his jacket with a bit more fervor than necessary. he stalks off, which doesn’t have quite the effect it would’ve if he’d stormed out of the room.

dee hadn’t even flinched.

patton looks to isadora for help—he can’t imagine she’s often had brawling ballerinas in her classroom, though—but before either of them say anything, a tiny, dirty-blonde girl bursts out from the corner.

“now that the male posturing is done,” she declares impatiently, “can we get to the part where we subvert patriarchal expectations, please? we all have homework to do after this and some of you really need to at least try to make it seem like school is for more than making out with each other and killing your brain cells with alcohol.”

“okay!” patton blurts out, before anyone else can try to start a fight with her, “blue dots over here, please, blue over here!”

the girl comes over to his side of the room first, as does dee.

great.

patton spies her nametag, too; POPPY MCMASTER.

ah. she’s the escort to logan’s debutante.

even better.

as logan’s crossing the room to join with the red dots, patton bends his head close to his ear and murmurs, “goodness, aren't your chilton friends…" he wracks his brain for a good word, "so enthusiastic?”

logan scowls, and returns in an equally quiet voice, “first of all, that is not exclusively a chilton thing, you have known roman for over a decade, and secondly, poppy isn't quite a friend, she has more attached herself to me in the hopes that i will be a mentor to her and give her an editor position her junior year.”

patton opens and closes his mouth a few times, before he says, "excellent," what on earth is in the water at that school, before he pushes logan gently in ms. prince’s direction and turns his attention to the group of teenagers.

they are not any less intimidating when halved.

“right,” patton says brightly. “let’s get this Get Cultured day started!”

#text #my post #my fic #my fanfic #the sideshire files #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #moxiety #logince #janus sanders #cartoon therapy #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

feel free not to take this but it is still technically march so. vampire sternclay nsfw, a hungry submissive vampire being so, so good in the hope that their human will let them have a taste?

Here it is! I guess it’s april now but eh, on this blog it’s always monster time.

Content Notes: Mentions of blood, since we’re dealing with vampires. The roleplay in this could read as dubcon, since Stern has something Barclay needs, but aftercare is shown and even in the scene it’s clear Barclay feels safe and happy.

“I thought we could act out that, um, request you had for me tomorrow night”

“The one where you let me…”

“Yes, big guy, that one.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

Barclay waits in Mt. Sterns study, clock on the mantle reading three minutes to six. Lamps are being lit up and down the street as the citizens of London flock out into the first warm night of the year. Barclay will not be joining them; Mr.Stern has other plans for him, and the crosses over the windows and doors to the street ensure Barclay doesn’t go anywhere without his permission.

It could be worse. Much worse.

Mr. Stern frequents the gentleman's club where Barclay is (was) a cook, is polite and charming when he discusses the latest evidence of monsters in the Himalayas or the depths of the sea. He’s American, like Barclay, which meant someone appreciated the pies he made for dessert. Every visit, he stopped by the kitchen to compliment Barclays food, insisting was the best in the city.

So imagine Barclays’ horror when, half-starved and foggy-brained, the man he pounced on in an alley turned out to be none other than Joseph Stern. The fear intensified when the human easily overpowered and pinned him, revealing that he was an agent of the crown, a member of the Royal Order of Vampire Hunters.

“I can’t let you free, not in good conscience given you attacked me and could attack someone else. But I don’t want to hurt you, Barclay.”

The agents solution was to bring the vampire home with him, lock him in the safety of the cellar (so he wouldn’t get burnt), and use him as a subject for his research. Mr. Stern prides himself on being the preeminent scholar on the subject of vampirism (“Dr. Helsing’s research is sorely lacking, but everyone goes to him because of the Harker Affair”), and couldn’t pass up the chance to make use of his live-in vampire. Generally, he peppers Barclay with questions or submits him to minor medical tests, always giving him a glass of blood to drink while they work. That glass is conspicuously absent tonight, as was the note Mr. Stern usually leaves him detailing what to expect.

Barclay bounces his knee as his stomach growls; they ran out of blood last night and a new supply has yet to arrive. Then the door opens, and he perks up like a bloodhound offered a bone.

“Hello, Barclay, thank you for being so prompt.” Mr.Stern is in his full suit, hair styled as if he just returned from the office.

“Of course, sir. I, uh, I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” He smiles, licks his lips as the human removes his jacket, revealing more of his throat in the process.

“You like being my research assistant?”

“Very much sir.”

Mr. Stern rolls up his shirtsleeves, “I think you’ll like tonight's experiment quite a bit. On the desk.” He pats the strangely empty hardwood and Barclay sits on the edge, tall enough that his feet still touch the floor. The human opens his dictograph, stops before turning it on, “lie down.”

Barclay does as he’s told, jolts in confusion as Stern pulls three leafs of wood from the desk; one on either side of Barclay and one at his feet, meaning that his whole body is on the table with a few inches of room to spare on all sides.

“This isn’t your normal desk, is it sir?”

“No, I had it made just for us.” The dictograph clicks on, “April 14th, experiment twenty-nine; determining the relationship between sexual arousal and bloodlust in vampires.”

“Wait, what?” Barclay bolts upright, starts climbing off the desk only for Stern to firmly cup his cheek.

“Barclay, you want to be a good specimen, don’t you?” Something sharp and wicked as a scalpel glints behind the clinical curiosity in his blue eyes.

“Yes, sir.” He does, he really does, but he’s so hungry. Hungry and terrified that whatever Stern is planning will cause Barclay to admit the feelings he has to keep reburying in his chest thanks to their reemerging whenever Stern smiles at him.

“Then do as you’re told.” He takes his hand away, Barclay mourning the loss of contact as the reclines back onto the desk.

“Much better.” Stern walks around the desk, patting Barclay’s head along the way, “If you’re good tonight, I’ll give you a special reward. One you’ve never had before.”

Barclay resolves to be better than he’s ever been. Stern's rewards are well planned and generous, leaving Barclay positively spoiled when he’s done. He buys him the expensive draught that lets vampires consume non-blood foods without illness, then takes him to dinner. Brings him rare teas and books to read while he sips them. When he learned Barclay liked theater and opera, evenings out in finery became part of the rotation. He can’t imagine what the extra special reward will be, but he hopes it involves more of Sterns gentle touches on his skin.

“I’m starting the experiment now. To establish our baseline, how aroused are you?”

“Like, a little?”

“Are you craving blood?”

“Yeah, I’m kinda hungry, but not like, crazed or anything.”

“Good. I’ll keep checking in with the subject throughout the process.” He pulls a notebook from his shelf, and Barclay can see a checklist running down the page, “I’ll start by relaxing the subject.”

The detached manner in which Stern refers to him should aggravate him; instead, his cock twitches in his pants and he squirms, hoping the human will say it again.

Stern rolls Barclays pants up to his knees, picks up his right foot and kneads his thumb along the arch. He finds all the sore spots with ease (almost as if he’s done this before), Barclay moaning softly as he works his way up one leg and then other. The vampire is so relaxed by the end he almost misses Stern guiding his wrists into the cuffs on either side of him.

“Sir?”

“It’s for your safety and mine; you may get agitated later on, and I don’t want you injuring yourself. Arousal level?”

“About the same.”

Stern raises his eyebrow.

“Uh, I mean, about the same, sir.”

“Hunger?”

“The same, sir.”

The agent turns back to the dictaphone, “Subject is now restrained. Proceeding to step twoOW, shit.” He sets the notebook down and shoves his right pointer finger into his mouth.

It’s only a small paper-cut, bleeding a bead of red when he pulls it out to examine it. To Barclay, it’s like someone cracked open a fine wine and is taking their sweet time pouring.

Stern notices his interest immediately, “Is this what you want, Barclay? To taste me?”

He whines, nodding his head. Stern’s hand hovers over his face; he could reach it with his tongue, but if he takes it without permission the human will no doubt revoke his reward.

The cut finger strokes his neck, leaving a faint trail of red that he can smell but neither see nor reach.

“Then I guess it’s convenient that’s your reward for tonight.”

“Ohfuckyes, sir, thank you sir.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, we’re only through step one. Where was I” he flips to the same page in his notes, “Oh, right. Addition of even a faint trace of blood lead to increased arousal in the subject. Testing the reverse pathway now.”

“Ohhhhhhfuck” Barclay bucks his hips as Joseph palms his cock through his pants. The warmth and pressure are enough to tease, to coax his cock up, but too little for him to do anything but rut like a needy dog on his hand.

“It looks like stronger stimulation is required.”

“AHahgodOWfuck” tears prick his eyes and he wishes, not for the first time, that he’d been less prone to taking the lords name in vain when he was human. The habit is hard to break and the word burns his tongue whenever it’s uttered.

Sterns eyes flick up to his face just long enough for him to see Barclay isn’t hurt, then they return to his cock. His hand moves in calculated, steady strokes, his voice calm even as Barclays grunts of pleasure fill the room.

“Good boy, Barclay. Let’s see what happens if I…”

“Fuck, ohfucksir.” He jerks his hips as Stern quickens his hand, pre-cum slicking the shaft.

“Subjects fangs are emerging, salivary glands seem more active, eyes-Barclay, be quiet, you’re going to drown out my notes.”

This statement does not have the desired effect, as the thought of the device picking up his moans, of Stern playing them back with a clinical ear or fucking himself to them or letting other hunters listen to just what a vampire will do in order to feed, makes him moan louder.

Stern stops entirely, his tone a warning, “Barclay.”

“S-sorry sir, it, it just, it feels so good, wanted you to, to know I like it. It’s, it’s an honor to feel your hands on me.”

“That’s very sweet. So sweet that I’ll make you a deal; if you can be quiet until after you cum, you can make as much noise as you want afterwards. Understood?”

“Yes sir.” He clamps his jaw shut, fangs pricking the inside of his mouth. Stern works his cock relentlessly, smiling as Barclay’s legs begin jerking and twitching with his impending orgasm.

“That’s much better.”

Barclay smiles, proud, swallows down a moan, and cums all over Sterns waistcoat.

“Messy boy.” Stern wipes himself off, then covers Barclay’s mouth with a cum-streaked hand, “clean it up.”

He obeys, ambivalent to the bitterness of his own spend and elated by the taste of Sterns skin on his tongue. When he’s done the human ruffles his hair with his other hand, smiling down at him.

“I’ll be right back.” Stern leaves his view and Barclay only just keeps himself from whining at his absence. The agent returns with a case which, when opened, reveals a vibrator.

“I’m not hysterical, sir.”

“Not yet.” Rather than hold it himself, Stern straps the device so it rests against Barclays cock and switches it on.

“AHFUCK, sir, it’s, how many times-” His cock, which was soft only a moment ago, perks back up even as the nerves in it scream for it to stop.

“As many as it takes to complete my study. Let’s see.” The human turns Barclays face this way and that, frowns, and digs his finger and thumb into his jaw to keep his mouth open as he moans, “subjects fangs are now fully out and he” Stern snickers as Barclay’s beard tickles his wrists, the vampire licking and nuzzling at his inner arm, “he’s increasingly submissive and blood focused.”

“N-no, I’m you focused sir, want you, be so good for youAHannn” he cums, cuffs clanking on the table as he arches off it. Stern drags a chair over, sitting near Barclay’s head and leaning with his elbows on the desk to watch as his cock continues leaking and shuddering under the onslaught of sensations.

Barclay recalls a myth, Greek he thinks, where a man is punished in the afterlife with intense hunger and thirst. He doesn’t remember why it happens, he tends to skim tragic stories. The part that stuck with him was the man being trapped with food and water just out of reach. With Joseph so close and Barclay so aroused and hungry, he can see the veins in his neck, can almost crane his neck to reach them.

Then he cums a third time and his vision whites out, taking away the temptation for a few moments of mercy. His brain gives up on coherent thoughts after that, and all he can do is moan and sob as Stern forces two more orgasms out of him. His feet and legs go from kicking and thrashing to laying so limp he’s not sure he’ll be able to walk when they’re through.

“I think I have what you need.” Stern shuts off the vibrator, removing bringing a water basin and pitcher over to the vampire. He dips a handkerchief into the warm water, guiding it along Barclays forehead, “you’re doing well, Barclay. I’m so proud.”

“Thank you sir.

“I have one more test to run, okay?” His voice is so gentle, his touch so soothing, and Barclay would do anything for him like this, all he wants is to serve him, to make him happy so he’ll keep looking at him like he’s something precious instead of dangerous.

The agent checks the dictaphone, clears his throat, “Final test: role of discomfort in the arousal-bloodlust dynamic.”

Barclay swallows, so turned on he couldn’t be scared if he tried. The agent pulls a loose page from the notebook, mischief in his eyes and menace on his fingertips. Only Stern could make the snap of a freshly inked piece of paper erotic, and Barclay adores him for it.

“I will now have the subject read a passage and record my observations.”

Letters fill his view and it takes his eyes a second to focus on them. His tongue, likely out of self-preservation, fights to stay behind his teeth.

“We don’t have all night, Barclay.”

The vampire takes a deep breath, “O God, accept me in penitence. O God, l- leave me not. O Lord, lead me not into temptation” his tongue flinches even as his chest burns with pleasure “O God, grant me good thoughts. O God, grant me humility and obedience.”

“I’d say you’re doing well on that front already,” Stern murmurs, saying more clearly, “the subject responds positively to pain associated with holy words, and looks increasingly thirsty.” He gives Barclay a pointed look, “subject should continue if he wants his reward.”

“O Lord, grant me patience, courage and meekness. O God, grant me to love Thee with all my mind and soul.” Tears run down his cheeks; the pain is right on the edge of what he can take, and even in his submissive haze he’s certain this alone is deserving of a reward, “Sir, please, please, I’ve been so good, please say you’re satisfied so I can, I can-”

Stern sets the paper aside, “can what? Specificity is important, Barclay.”

A dozen types of hunger well up in his throat as he whimpers, “please say I can taste you.”

An indulgent smile, “Of course. Give me a second to prepare.”

The vampire closes his eyes, breathes as slowly as he can manage as his tongue ceases tingling. There’s a scuff and thud of Stern touching the desk, and Barclay assumes he’s being freed until warmth straddles his chest and a shadow blocks the lamplight from his face.

“Ohfuck.” He opens his eyes, finds Stern--naked from the waist down--bracketing his ears with his knees.

“Is this the taste you wanted?” Stern guides his head up and Barclay eagerly kisses his cock.

“N-no I wanted to feed but, but this is so, so perfect sir.”

“You think you deserve to feed from me?”

Barclay nods, too busy teasing his tongue along his folds to respond further. The hunter is wet, and the thought of him soaking his tailored trousers just by watching Barclay cum is almost as heady as the scent of the blood beneath his skin.

“Well, I think this is what you deserve, for being so careless as to attack me, and for having to rely on my hospitality to survive.”

“Uhhummm” Barclay closes his lips around his cock and Stern moans, a sound Barclay would gladly swallow holy water to hear again.

“Nnn, oh lord, that’s it, you’re doing so well big guy.”

He purrs at the praise, mouth watering as Stern’s body sends more blood south. The skins so sensitive here, so thin, he can practically taste iron through it. He grazes his teeth along Sterns thigh, hoping for the smallest of scrapes, yelps when the agent pulls his hair hard enough to slam his head back against the desk.

“If you bite without permission, I will leave you here, like this, with that vibrator strapped to your cock, until the morning.”

Barclay whimpers, licks plaintively at his cock to show he’s sorry. Stern’s voice softens, “That’s better. I know it’s hard to restrain yourself, but you--oh lord--you must. I hate having to discipline you my sweet boy, I’d much, much rather-” his hips gain speed, smearing slick across Barclays mouth, “fuck, I’d rather spoil you and then do whatever I want to this perfect body, oh, ohlord, ohyes.” He tenses, gasping, and Barclay wishes his hands were free so he could hold him, keep him safe and steady while he takes his pleasure.

The hunter eases off of him, undoes the cuffs and helps him upright. They move on equally shaky legs to the settee, the human undoing the top buttons of his shirt once they do.

“Barclay…”

“Yes, sir?” He grips the edge of the cushions to keep from pinning the agent to their deep blue surface.

“You can have your reward now.” Stern tips his head sideways, revealing a welcoming patch of throat. Barclay growls, lunges forward as Stern makes no attempt to stop him. His teeth pierce willing skin and hot, sinfully delicious blood flows across his tongue. Stern goes rigid in his arms, voice cracking in a moan. Then he relaxes, clinging to Barclays shoulders as the vampire pushes him down, licking and sucking and smearing crimson kisses across his neck.

Nothing in the world compares to fresh blood, freely offered, swallowed down while the most handsome man you’ve ever seen lets out softer and softer moans of ecstasy.

Two taps register on his shoulder and he pulls away, lapping at the wounds so they’ll stop bleeding and be protected from infection. Joseph groans, gingerly shaking his head to clear it.

“You feeling okay, big guy?”

“Y’know how pythons will eat a cow once a month and then sleep for days? That sounds really fucking good right about now.” Barclay knows some vampires feel energized after feeding, but for him it’s always followed by the need for a nap.

“Let’s go upstairs first, the bed is better than the couch for that. Last time I fell asleep here my back hurt the whole next day.”

“Someone feeling being in his thirties?”

“Barclay, you’re three hundred.”

“And I don’t feel a day over two hundred and fifty.” He smiles as Joseph chuckles and kisses his cheek.

They make it up the stairs, Barclay easing his way under the covers and trying not to let them touch his sore cock. Joseph brings two water glasses and a damp cloth. Barclay uses the latter to clean the last traces of blood from his skin, patching over the punctures with the bandages they keep in the bedside table.

“Fun as it is to pretend to be your, like, pet vampire, I really glad you decided you just needed a roommate after I was stupid enough to attack you.”

Joseph polishes off his water, “You were starving, not stupid. Most vampires who go after humans are. It did put a damper on my plans to proposition you in the club kitchen the next night, but it worked out in the end.”

“They did warn me the clientele might try to bribe me into earning a few extra pounds with uh, ‘special services.’”

“A few pounds is barely a fair price for a kiss from you.” The human kisses him, somehow more sincere and loving than the equally tender kiss he gave him before leaving for work. Then he rubs his leg through the blankets, “do you want some tea? Indrid dropped off a new one he found while traveling with Duck, and it smells amazing.”

“Sounds great, blue eyes.”

“I’ll go make a pot of it while you rest; you did so well tonight I’m inclined to spoil all weekend.”

“No complaints here. You take such good care of me, Joseph.”

“You deserve it, big guy. Don’t go anywhere.” He kisses his brow and leaves the bed, whirling on his dressing gown as he goes towards the stairs.

Barclay watches him with all the love his unbeaten heart can muster and murmurs, “I won’t. Not when everything I need is right here.”

#sternclay #agent stern/barclay #vampire au #victorian au #reader requests #TAZ amnesty

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silverducks · 3 years

Text

Game of Thrones - Jaime Lannister

A rambling character study of Jaime Lannister from Game of Thrones.

Introduction

Ok, so nearly a month since I finished watching Game of Thrones, and I’m still not over how it ended. Like some things I can reconcile myself too, some things just annoy me when I overthink what happened and some things - ok one thing in particular - is just not letting me go.

And that is the way the show ended for Jaime Lannister.

I know I’m like 2 years too late on the GoT bandwagon and no one cares anymore. But I’m writing all these posts because I still care, having recently experienced what you all went through 2 years ago. And I know what I’ll be posting will have all been posted countless times before and discussed in the fandom years ago. But I kinda need to still get my own thoughts written down and outta my head.

Before I go on though, I just want to add in here that I do still love this show and, even right to the very end, think the acting, crew, music, sets/scenery, costumes, basically everything was pretty much amazing. That is except the writing, which, went downhill after series 4. Before then it was pretty much amazing too (not always perfect (is anything?), but so darn good!)

Now, turns out when I came to write down my thoughts on Jaime’s ending, I had even more than I realised. Basically it’s turned into me writing one massive analysis of Jaime’s character based on the show. So I’ve split it into separate posts, with this first one more of an intro, a summary of my thoughts and overall opinion on Jaime and a bit of context on my own experience with Game of Thrones.

Now, spoilers for Game of Thrones ending

I’ve read/watched a lot on the internet since I saw those episodes (series 8, episode 4 and 5 in case you weren’t sure) and I know a lot of people don’t like how they ended Jaime’s story in the show either. But I’ve also read a lot of comments where people did like it, or at least thought it made sense. The reasons they give make no sense to me, but it’s made me think and overthink and analyse way too much about how they did end his story.

So, in order to try and get them out of my head, I’m putting them down here. It’s a long, pretty rambling read, split up into a few parts because it got so long. Across the posts I’m going to go through my own understanding and perception of Jaime’s character and his arc and why I think they completely ruined it in episodes 8.04 and 8.05. I’ll then focus on some of the main reasons I’ve seen why people think it did make sense, and why (even though I maintain everyone is entitled to their own opinion) I completely disagree. Jaime’s character arc was annihilated in the show even more than Kings Landing. And that is more than a bit frustrating.

Now, just a bit of background to add some context to my thoughts; I basically only got around to watching the show a few months ago (I’ve not read the books yet). I basically binged watched the entire show and am now just a little bit reeling from it all! LOL! Also, as I did binge watch it, it meant I didn’t spend time between episodes/series really analysing/theorising etc. I had a few ideas and thoughts, but not to the depth it would have been had I needed to wait impatiently for each new episode. This means I think my viewpoint is of the show as an overall whole, rather than each separate series, because it kinda all rolled into one. This may, or may not, have affected my opinion and so this analysis of Jaime Lannister and my disappointment in his ending. It also means, having only watched the show once, I’ve probably forgotten or missed bits. However, since I finished the show, I’ve watched a lot of YouTube videos and read a lot of stuff on the net about it, including in comparison to the books. (And I maybe rewatched some of my favourite scenes just a few times…) And now I am analysing and theorising and thinking about this show way too much! LOL!

So I guess my viewpoint isn’t one of ignorance, but it might not be quite the same as someone who’s been invested in the show from the start.

Like most viewers, I pretty much thought Jaime = evil villain for most of the earlier series. He had the odd moment, but it wasn’t until he did that speech with Catelyn about the conflict of all those oaths he’d taken that I even started to take note of his character. And then series 3 happens, where he has his road trip with Brienne, loses his hand, saves her from a bear and basically starts his wonderful path of character development. And basically manages to go from a guy I pretty much do not like at all at the start, to one of my all time favourite characters ever.

Also, I’m definitely a Brienne/Jaime shipper and did wish them to have a happy ending. However, I pretty much never thought the show would actually even go there, let alone make it happy. In fact, I actually did my best to NOT ship them for such a long time because, being Game of Thrones, I knew it was very unlikely to end well. But, then yeah, their intense staring contests kept on happening and darn it, the way that Jaime’s voice breaks when he says Lady Brienne and him giving her a priceless sword, and what the sword represents and…

Ok, well, yeah, I could gush about them all day, but anyway, I ended up not being able to fight the ship any more after series 6 and THAT tent scene. But, even then, I still didn’t think the show would make it canon, like it would just leave it all open ended/make up your own mind kinda thing.

And then we get to series 8. Like we have a whole episode (that is actually named for their very storyline) with Jaime just staring at Brienne, being all dorky around Brienne and then, if that wasn’t enough, he even KNIGHTS Brienne! I mean, this is epic for this ship! And I would have been ok (not happy, but satisfied) as a Brienne and Jaime shipper if that had been it.

But then no, then he barely leaves her side in the fight against the dead in the next episode – they fight side by side with their two halves of one whole swords, each risking their own life for the other multiple times. And then in the next episode (where I don’t think there’s barely any scene where they’re NOT right next to each other) the show DID make it canon. Like it actually did go there, they slept together (in an adorably awkward scene I love). Heck, Jaime then even chooses to stay in the North and be with Brienne, even though he hates the North. Like this was just epicness of all proportions and I got so excited and all those shippy feels I was trying to hold back just came rushing out and then... and then...

THEN that scene happens. He leaves her. Like WTH…

Anyway, more on that in another post. I guess what I’m trying to say is that as much as I ship them, my issues with Jaime’s ending is less about his relationship with Brienne, and more just his complete 180 on character development. Jaime’s arc has been heavily influenced by Brienne, but it is still amazing in its own right. As I didn’t expect Brienne/Jaime to ever happen (so when it did and then got taken away in the very same episode, it’s incredibly frustrating and gives even less credence to what does happen), it’s not why I’m so annoyed and disappointed with what happened to Jaime.

I’m annoyed because they took all this amazing character growth over 7 series and then screwed it all over in less than two episodes. No, that’s not enough. It was a complete and utter character assassination that completely undermines and destroys 7 series worth of investment and development, completely nullifying everything Jaime went through as a character.

So, yeah, I’m a bit annoyed, but that’s because it makes no sense and it’s bugging me enough to write this whole series of posts. Because I can’t let it go. And having read people justify, even like it online, it’s made my inner analysis thought train go into override. And I’m sorry if these posts are like I’m preaching to the choir, or writing such obvious stuff and repeating myself, I’m just trying to get it all out my head as coherently as I can. Hopefully allowing me to move on a bit.

#Urgh #I need to sit in a corner and try to cheer myself up again before I can write anymore #Maybe watching some Brienne and Jaime fan videos will help cheer me up #And also simultaneously depress me even more.

#Game of Thrones #Jaime Lannister #Brienne x Jaime

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mysmegrace · 4 years

Note

Hey! I noticed your masterlist is a bit empty, can i fix that? Haha. Maybe you could write some headcanons with Saeran (and if you do more characters), Jaehee and Jumin having a cooking date with mc? Like maybe cookies, or browniesor cake! Idk haha. Sorry for the long ask. ☺️

Hey 👋 Haha yeah my master list isn’t doing so well right now lol. I love your ask, it’s so cute, and it’s not long at all! I didn’t see this until right now so forgive me if this is late lol!

Cooking Date with Saeran/Jumin/Jaehee 🥘

Saeran (Normal Ending)🌹

Staying indoors all day wasn’t fun in the slightest. Fortunately for you and Saeran, the coronavirus hadn’t reached the island you inhabited yet

Given that didn’t mean you guys were entirely safe, so you two had to follow the safety measures just like the rest of the RFA had to do back in South Korea

That meant you had to forget about your vacation to Greece you had planned for to go explore the European country and discover it’s beauty

You two definitely weren’t happy about that as you both were incredibly excited about the trip, the cancellation of the trip caused your moods to tank this week

As if you two weren’t already down in the dumps enough, you woke up to loud rain drops banging on your window

When seeing the combination of strong rain and high winds, a sigh escaped your lips

Walking around the island and admiring the gorgeous nature combined with seas that surrounded it was the only thing bringing you two comfort in these rough times

But because of how messy the weather was today, you couldn’t even do that

Feeling upset, you accepted defeat from Mother Nature and laid back down in bed, cuddled up to Saeran

After resting another few hours, the weather had only gotten worse, contrary to what you’d hope it’d be

You could see the look of disappointment that came across Saerans face as he looked outside the window

Nature was not just a pretty sight to Saeran, but a much stronger comforting sight to him, so you understood completely how this made him feel

The entirety of your early afternoon contained of just you and Saeran laying down focused on your phones

Nearing dinner hours you got a sudden yet welcoming motivation to get up and make something out of this horrible day after seeing lots of inspiration online

After a lot of thought you came to the conclusion that a cooking date sounds like something you two could use right now

You surfed the web until you came across the perfect recipe, Moussaka for dinner and Loukoumades for dessert

Two Greek dishes served frequently around Greece, maybe trying your hand at making these dishes could lighten your moods

This sounds like a great idea not only because it’s delicious food, but also because it could give you and Saeran a feel of Greece far away from the country

With everything planned and making sure all ingredients are in stock, you approach Saeran with your plan

He isn’t too enthusiastic when hearing your idea but with the puppy face you’re giving him, he found it hard to deny your offer

So he eventually agreed and you two were off to work

You turned on some calming music while you and Saeran began cutting up the vegetables needed for the Moussaka together

As time went on, you noticed you began getting happier as you two were cooking and making conversation

Your plan seemed to be working incredibly

After all ingredients were done and assembled correctly, you two gave it all time to cook

While it was cooking, you started talking about the future and about your dreams, you could tell his mood was lifting

You grew increasingly open with each other in discussing your wants and dreams, then a sudden but very welcomed kiss from Saeran touched your lips

It was only a little kiss, but that little kiss turned into another little kiss, and eventually it wasn’t just a little kiss anymore

You thought back to the days in Mint Eye, you could never see you and Saeran coming so far, but here you were now making out on the couch you shared

His hand laid gentle on your cheek as you two sat there enjoying every piece of each other and this amazing feeling

You both snapped back to reality once the timer rang loud through the home

Getting up disappointed because you two were interrupted, you walked over to take out the dinner with Saeran following you

Once you sat it down to cool, a giggle left Saerans mouth as his eyes laid on a trace of honey he left on your cheek

You returned his chuckle as you attempted to wipe the honey off with a towel

His hand stopped you from doing so as he turned your face towards him and wiped the trace of honey off with his thumb

“Thank you” you replied to his actions accompanied with a blush

“No need to thank me, it’s my job” he responded

You gave him a loving smile as you turned around to grab plates

You served the meal blown with a kiss on top as you two got to eating

Satisfied with the creation, you both had a loveable conversation and got a little piece of Greece in your home while missing out on your trip

After dinner dessert was served and you could’ve sworn you gained 30lbs from that delicious food

You both realized as long as you two are together, there’s no excuse to be upset about something that can always hold off until a later date

Jumin💎

The front door opening got your attention as you laid on the couch waiting for Jumin to arrive home

An hour ago he had run out to the grocery store to pick up some essentials and ingredients you two would need tonight

You both had planned cooking a meal together this afternoon and enjoying it over a candle lit table

Having a dinner date inside the home to relax and spend time together was something you definitely needed

It was perfect to make you feel even more loved and great for Jumin to lift stressful things from his mind

After an exhausting week of almost working himself to death, he brought up the idea to you

You didn’t even need to think before you agreed

Knowing Jumin, he was going all out

You swore the table cloth alone costed more than your rent for your old apartment

While he was sliding off his shoes with his arms holding many bags, you walked up to him and placed a short but sweet kiss on his lips

After you both brought the bags to the kitchen and got them unpacked, you got to work

You decided on stir-fry and lava cake

With Jumin focusing on the vegetables and chicken, you got to work on the sauce

Every time he passed you to get to the fridge, his hands wrapped around your waist for a brief minute as he placed a soft kiss on your temple

A light blush always came over your cheeks whenever he did loving actions like this, even after 3 years of marriage

You both were getting into conversations about life

About Elizabeth the 3rd, the next RFA party, plans for C&R, the current political climate, and much similar

Jumin was such an interesting man, how he could talk for hours about topics regarding the economy and fail to make you bored is beyond you

But you liked that about him, along with many other attributes of his

You always felt loved and protected in his presence, a feeling you’ve never felt throughout your childhood

As your conversation slowly shifted and you two starting getting more depth with your discussions, he expressed how much love he felt for you everyday

He never thought he could love someone this much, he can’t even imagine how much more love he’ll have in his heart when/if you two create your own family

While talking, you added the stir fry sauce to his concoction of vegetables & chicken on the stove, along with adding in noodles

You stirred the mixture carefully, making sure not to spill

An unexpected hand came on top of yours and joined you in stirring the mixture

You took those few minutes when he was directly behind you to take the situation in, to just breathe out and relax in his presence

Your stir fry was cooked perfectly as you turned off the heat and let it to cool a bit

While cooking, you both got to work on the lava cake

It was a quick & simple recipe that Jumin had never attempted to make before

He usually had his chef cook for you both so this entire experience was a special occasion to him

You both continued where u left off in your conversation

The look in his eyes as he spoke passionately, the way his lips moved along with his words, god you loved this man

You still remember the days when Jumin seemed like such a cold man to you at first

But when getting closer to him and hearing him open up to you, you realize how broken he’s been from childhood

He deserved better

Your thoughts were cut off the loud timer going off

As Jumin went to take out the cake, he told you to go get dressed

You were confused but listened, he had an outfit already laid out for you on the bed you two shared

He really was over the top somethings

After getting the gorgeous dress on, you walked back out to the kitchen to meet him

You were met with a well set table already prepared and a lit candle in the centre of you two

He took your soft hand into his and led you to your seat, pulling your chair in and out for you

He joined you seated at the table and you two became to eat

The dinner tasted great, better than you both expected

It wasn’t to his chefs level, but it was great for a non-chef

The rest of your night was spent in each other’s arms drinking a glass of wine on the couch

you two may or may not have had a shower after to clean yourselves off together and did some things 👁👄👁

Jaehee 🧁

You arrived at Jaehee’s apartment around noon

You two had planned to bake some cookies and donate them to the orphanage to give to children

Jaehee had her cooking supplies ready before you even arrived, she’s incredibly good at being prepared

You both got straight to work and had decided on chocolate chip and raisin cookies

Jaehee turned on some music to listen to in the background

She did the chocolate chip, you did raisin

A song came on from her playlist that you loved, you knew the dance to it and everything

You started dancing as you mixed the batter, singing along to the songs

That earned you a quick look of confusion from Jaehee

You stopped mixing and sat down the bowl as you stretched your hand out to Jaehee, offering her to dance with you

She stared for a minute before hesitantly agreeing after you told her to let loose a little

You started off slow, making sure she got a hang of the moves

Then you began gaining pace, building up speed

You saw a smile creep onto her face as she moved along with you

The song came to a short and after a short laugh you both got back to work

Hours passed of you making cookies before you were done, covered in a mess

You wiped your finger into the flour you had on your apron

You gave Jaehee an unexpected surprise by swiping the flour on her nose

She quickly returned your action back and you were soon in a flour war zone

After coating each other in the white powder, you two decided to call it quits for the day as you removed your apron

Looking at the cookies on the counter, you both grabbed one and cheered them together, making a toast

“To us”

I hope you enjoyed! I apologize if Jaehee’s seems rushed in any way, it’s almost 3am right now and I’m not functioning properly lol. Plus I’m not the best at writing with Jaehee. Thank you for your request!

REQUESTS: OPEN

#mysme #mysme headcanons #jumin han #mystic messenger #mystic messenger head canon #mysme fanfic #jumin x mc #saeran x mc #saeran choi #jaehee kang #jaehee x mc #mysme imagines

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40sbarnes · 4 years

Text

Medici: Spymasters of Florence

Chapter 13: A Flicker of Melted Ice

okay just letting you all know i have this story planned for 20 chapters and it should still fit into that... sorry it’s super long!! i do appreciate you guys still sticking around <3

also a special appreciation to @nana035 who has been so so kind and supportive from the very start!! i appreciate your comments and asks so much <3333

tag list; @brynthebulldozer @mythicalamphitrite @nana035 @valravnsraven @hannahhistorian92 @not-thatweird @isaac-lahey-is-bae @angrygardendeer @unstoppable-xavi

pairings; slow slowburn lorenzo x reader, platonic francesco x reader

Hundreds of voices spoke over each other, all droning into one loud chatter as it reached your ears. You had successfully made your way into the banquette. Lorenzo had entered separately earlier, of course, to avoid suspicion, trusting you to snake your own way in. Which you had. You stood at the end of the hall, taking in the scene before you. You were now dawned in your new dress, which forced your posture that slight bit taller. Between you and Lorenzo fussing, you had figured your hair into a resemblance of how you'd seen noble women wear it. Still, you felt a little out of your depths. You had performed similar missions for Pazzi before, he claimed it as one of the advantages of having a woman work for him, but those had been in Florence. Sure, Venice wasn't all so different, but you weren't granted the same knowledge Lorenzo's schooling as a child had given him. You knew little of the place, or the people there either.

It was certainly an unsettling feeling, not having the secrets of the guests stored away, as if they were weapons themselves. Of course, you still had your actual weapons, but a nonviolent route was always preferred. You never appreciated the sensation of Lorenzo being better equipped than you, but as you scanned the crowd, and you found him entertaining a group as they threw their heads back in laughter, you were forced to endure it. His eyes fell on yours for a second, his lips twitching further into the smirk already sitting on his face, you shot him the tiniest of smiles before looking away, in fear someone would notice.

And then, you began to work. Making your way around the hall, eavesdropping on the finest of the Venetian population. Most of it was beyond boring, rich people droning on about rich people things. Some of it was juicy, but nothing of real substance, nothing that could help Lorenzo until…, you over heard the name 'Jacopo Pazzi' fall from someone's lips, and you made your way closer. They were discussing exactly what you'd hoped.

"Well he promised Vitelli a percentage of the trade through Bologna when they cease trade with Milan," one of the men spoke.

"How can Pazzi promise such a thing? Isn't Medici pushing for a treaty with Milan currently?" They lowered their voices as they continued, clearly aware the man they spoke of was in attendance.

"It won't pass. Not after his sister disgraced Soderini and his son. They needed his vote," the men sounded far too smug for your liking.

"A Pazzi in charge of Florence? I never thought I'd see the day," they all chuckled, and you had to stop yourself from joining in. They wouldn't see that day. Not if you could help it.

Parting from the groups of people standing around, you searched the room for Lorenzo once again. You eventually located him, on the dance floor, engaging in the routine everyone magically seemed to know. You assumed it to be taught in their schooling, and you imagined a young Lorenzo tripping over his feet. You forced the smile off your face, surveying not only Lorenzo but the people surrounding him, the dance seemed repetitive enough, and if you joined it would be an inconspicuous way to discuss your new found information with him.

Edging closer to the dance floor, you continued to watch Lorenzo, as he switched partners to a beautiful young woman. She whispered something in his ear, and a grin fell onto his lips. You felt your heart twinge slightly, but forced the feeling away as you tried to keep a straight face.

"Not enjoying the banquet?" To your shock, Vitelli had appeared at your side. You immediately bowed your head.

"No, Messer, the banquet is wonderful. Your grandson even more so," you congratulated him, hoping he wasn't offended.

"A heavy boy he is as well," he chuckled, and you eased up slightly, seeing his light humour.

"That is what they're saying," you grinned, your eyes not listening to your better judgement and falling on Lorenzo where he was still enjoying himself.

"Madonna..." he trailed off, not knowing your name.

"Cellini," you finished for him, "Anastasia Cellini."

"Well, Madonna Cellini, how long are you planning on watching the festivities before joining in?" His question caught you off guard.

Your eyes locked on his, before quickly shifting to the floor beneath you. "Me? No... I couldn't," you shook your head, playing up the modest act you knew noble women to put on.

"Why ever not?"

"I have two left feet," you chuckled, holding your hands together in front of you.

"Luckily for you, I have two right," you spun to the sound of the voice, to see one of the men who had been discussing Lorenzo earlier standing behind you.

"Cousin!" Vitelli embraced the man, they must've been second cousins or something of the matter, as the man didn't seem many years your senior.

"Madonna Cellini, this is my cousin, Porziano Lisi," Vitelli introduced you too, and you curtseyed before him, but he took your hand into his, placing a kiss on your knuckles.

"My pleasure," he lowered your hand, although not quite letting go of it. You felt eyes on you, but you didn't dare look for the owner. "Well, shall we?" He offered, strolling backwards to lead you to the floor as the band came to the end of the song.

"Enjoy!" Vitelli laughed, before spinning around to the people waiting to congratulate him.

"I was not spinning a tale when I said I do not have an aptitude for dancing," you warned him, as he positioned you in line with the rest of the dancers, readying themselves for the next song. You glanced over your shoulder to see Lorenzo staring at you, not seeming amused. You turned back to your partner, Lorenzo wasn't far behind, and it wouldn't take long to get to him.

"I find that hard to believe, a woman of your grace," Lisi grinned down at you, you mustered a smile back, as the gentle strumming of the bands instruments began to fill the hall once again.

In fairness to your partner, he lead you in the dance with little trouble, and when it came time to swap partners, you found yourself facing Lorenzo already. You don't know how he managed it, but you were grateful. He was more than enough to satisfy your quota for dealing with rich men.

"I didn't realise we were here to enjoy ourselves, Bellondini," Lorenzo smiled, his hand mirroring yours, as you began the movements of the dance.

"That's amusing coming from you," you bit back laughter, "but I certainly am not. I've been busy," you raised an eyebrow as you turned to face him, continuing the dance, although you were notably close. Lorenzo mimicked you, his own brows lifting, asking a question he didn't say aloud.

"Pazzi promised Vitelli profits of trade he has set up with Bologna when Milan falls through," you informed him of your findings.

Lorenzo scrunched his nose in frustration, glancing away for a moment, "Well..." he sounded defeated.

"No, not well, Pazzi can't promise that. Not with your Milan treaty," you reminded him, confused as to why he seemed so pessimistic.

"I don't know if there will be a treaty. Not without Soderini's vote," Lorenzo sighed, as he lifted his arm to twirl you underneath. "And now that my sister won't marry his son, I fear I will no longer have it"

"Don't you have someone other than Bianca you can sell off to Bastiano?" You teased, Lorenzo sharing a smug look with you.

"His heart was set on her," his face suddenly fell serious.

"So melt it, and reset it," your faces were but inches from each other. Lorenzo let out a chuckle at your words.

"I'm sure you know all about melting hearts," his thumb brushed the back of your hand, "but reset on who? Are you offering?" You scoffed at his words, making his grin wider. "Oh, come on, surely a marriage to a wealthy man is your dream. Then you could legally steal from him," he bartered, just mocking you at this point.

"I can assure you I do not spend my nights dreaming of marrying Bastiano Soderini," you smirked up at him.

"No?" He questioned, his breath warm on your skin.

"No," you replied simply.

Lorenzo grinned, his eyes locked on your own, "Then who?"

You took in a breath at his words, not having a witty reply. Lorenzo took a step forward, you hadn't even realised you would be changing partners, but you soon fell into step with the man now standing beside you. Lorenzo stole one last glance as he peered back over his shoulder, before focusing back on the dance.

At the next swap, Lorenzo excused himself, and you carefully watched, as he greeted Vitelli, and they left the hall soon after. He must've come up with something, as he always does. You waited a song or two more before leaving, muttering about how you were parched, and heading to one of the tables full of food. You poured yourself a drink, keeping up the excuse. When you were sure no one was looking, you slipped two drops of the poison into your drink, swirling it slightly with your finger before taking a sip. You had been upping your dose slowly, and felt barely anything at a double dose anymore. It gave you a strange sense of accomplishment, pouring the liquid down your throat that could quite literally kill anyone else in the room.

You remained at the table, unsure of what the next move was. You assumed Lorenzo would ensure Vitelli's vote soon enough, it was probably time for you to exit soon. Your eyes fell on the man of the evening himself as he re-entered the hall, although he did not seem a joyful as you would have hoped.

Vitelli soon joined you at the table, pouring himself a drink just as you had, notably without your secret ingredient. His eyes shot across the table of delicacies, before he moved for the gelato, now somewhat melted, and began scooping it into a bowl. He didn't even seem to notice your presence, he was so caught up in himself.

You took a step closer to him. "Not enjoying the banquet?" You teased, and his eyes fell on you. He quickly tried to shed his anxious exterior, although it wasn't too effective, he shot you a smile.

"We meet again, Madonna," he raised his glass to yours before taking a large swig, “have you tried the gelato?” he continued smiling anxiously, eating a scoop of it.

"Is everything alright, Messer?" You furrowed your brows, lowering your voice slightly so only he could hear you.

"I feel as though I have been split in two," he was no longer looking at you, instead his focus was on the man who had given him all this stress. Lorenzo was making his way throughout the banquet again, although now he seemed to be saying his goodbyes.

You pitied Vitelli, "I'm familiar with the feeling," you hummer. All too familiar.

"I shouldn't burden you with my problems, I apologise," he turned back to you.

"Do not worry for me, Messer, I enjoy being of assistance," when you got paid for it.

"Well, it is like this. I was certain about something, it seemed to be the best option. But now I feel torn. Maybe it wasn't as simple as I had imagined, as I had hoped," he watched the content of his cup as he swirled it with a flick of his wrist. "I do not know what the right choice is," he glanced back to you, searching your eyes as if they would give him the answer. You sympathised with him, having had this internal struggle since you'd first began working for Lorenzo.

"But you do know," you told him. As did you.

"Pardon?" He was confused, rightfully so.

"You do know what is right. Your heart knows," your eyes found Lorenzo's, he turned away as they did, exiting the banquet.

Vitelli seemed deep in contemplation at his words. "You've always known," you told him.

He nodded slowly, accepting your words. "I suppose I have," a hint of a grin fell on his features, "what helpful advice on a matter I have told you nothing of," he laughed, the stress fading away.

"I will not push any boundaries and dare ask," you began, Vitelli cutting you off.

"It is a Florentine matter. I suppose it would hold no importance to you even if I told you. But a young man was in attendance at this very banquet, attempting for my vote in a matter there," he explained, and you acted as if it was all new information to you.

"I see," you nodded along, "and his attempts?"

"I imagined would be futile. Still, I entertained him and now..." he trailed off, "I don't suppose you know Lorenzo de ‘Medici?" Your composure was tested, but you held it.

"Not personally, no," you shook your head, lying through your teeth, "but I have certainly heard of him and his family."

"And?" He pushed, desperate for your advice.

"You fear voting in his favour?" You took a sip of your drink, your eyes watching Vitelli for his reaction.

"Well no, certainly not, it's tha-" you cut off his ramble before it could begin.

"Things are not always as complicated as we make them, Messer," you could tell that whatever Lorenzo had done had worked. Vitelli would vote for him. You simply knew it.

"Maybe so," he took a drink himself, before a woman appeared behind him, gushing over his grandson, and he was pulled away from you.

"Thank you, Madonna!" You simply nodded at his brisk goodbye, finishing your drink before heading off yourself.

The warm reds of the sunset seemed to perfectly match your attire as you skipped down the front steps, feeling a chill as the night air crept over your skin. You were staying not too far from where the banquet was held, in another quaint inn. You set off down the road, until you sensed someone behind you.

Ready to strike, you spun around to Lorenzo already grinning at you. "You never told me you could dance."

#i love the reader SM PLS #i apologise for all the inaccuracies but my storys not about that slz #then who??!?#daniel sharman #daniel sharman x reader #lorenzo de medici #lorenzo de medici x reader #medici #medici fic #medici: masters of florence #medici: spymasters of florence #francesco pazzi x reader #francesco x reader

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firebrands · 4 years

Text

speak easy | steve/tony

1.9k, M (for alcohol and recreational drug use), drunk steve, drunk tony, a few kisses and an unexpected confession | stony bingo prompt fill: this comic book cover | on ao3

It was a normal Tuesday between the two of them, stressed and under duress and Tony needing a drink. Tony had escaped his office to work with Steve, using the excuse that a change of scenery made him more productive.

Steve was just happy to spend time with Tony, really.

“I need a drink,” Tony said over their laptops.The sun was beginning to set outside the cafe they frequented when they needed to get work done.

“Okay,” Steve said. “I think I’ll join you.”

Tony looked up from typing on his laptop, surprised. “Really?”

“I mean, once in a while is okay,” Steve said, nonchalant.

A slow smile spread over Tony’s lips, and he pulled out his phone to type out of a text. “Great. Wonderful. There’s this place I think you’ll love.”

***

They’re two drinks in before their dinner arrives, and Tony’s eyes are half-lidded with the beginnings of intoxication. Steve is along the same route.

“Jeez,” Steve says, scrubbing his face with his hand. “It’s been a while.”

Tony makes a small noise of understanding, digging into his steak.

The bar is dark, all leather and wood, with paraphernalia from the 20s strewn about. They even have lamps that look to be from that period, but tables are candle-lit. Over the speakers comes muted tinkles of jazz.

“They’re really leaning into the speakeasy atmosphere, aren’t they,” Steve says, sipping his drink.

“One hundred percent,” Tony says, settling back into the chair and sighing, cheeks pink with a pleasant buzz.

They don’t talk about work, about the little amount of sleep they’d had over the past few days, about how much they both just needed to take a breather, even if only a few hours.

When they’re done, they step outside of the bar and Tony lights a cigarette. “Where to next?” He asks.

“My place is just a few blocks down,” Steve says, eyes opening and closing too slowly.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right,” Tony says, orienting himself by looking up at the buildings around them.

They begin walking unsteadily towards Steve’s apartment, Tony’s hands occasionally holding on to Steve’s arm to keep steady.

They’re quiet, tonight. Tired, drunk, ready to lie down. They say nothing as they lean against each other and wait for the elevator to bring them up to Steve’s room.

***

Tony kicks off his shoes when they get to Steve’s apartment—he’s used to house rules by now, and plops down on Steve’s sofa as Steve bends down to unlace his shoes. Steve is setting them aside properly in their assigned space on the rack when Tony makes a small, pleased sound. Steve looks up to see him holding up a small ziplock bag.

“Oh, Tony, I don’t think—”

“Just one,” Tony grins, tapping some weed onto rolling paper. “Come on, we should unwind. There’s still so much week left in this week,” he says, rolling for a bit more before licking the joint closed.

Steve, after all these years, knows when to choose his battles.

They move toward Steve’s balcony and Tony lights up, taking a long drag before passing the joint to Steve. Steve wonders idly if Tony just has drugs on his person at all times, but wouldn’t put it past him; after all, he’s Tony Stark. Even after all this time, it’s still a marvel to him that they’re friends—that they could be more than that, if one of them decided to finally make a move.

They’d met at a charity auction by chance, Tony had won the bid on Steve’s art.

“The first one that actually caught my eye,” Tony said.

“You bought a Monet,” Steve responded, unimpressed by the come-on.

Tony blinked at him. “Yeah, and?”

Steve couldn’t help but be charmed, and that’s how it started—coffee and dinner, whenever they were free and Tony didn’t have plans with his then-girlfriend, Jan. Steve still kept his full-time job, even if Tony bought enough of his art to pay his rent for the year, but they started as friends. Steve didn’t know how to make them more than that—it feels like that ship has set sail.

Tony flicks the roach into the air, watching as it floats down into the empty alley in the back of Steve’s building.

Steve tsks, even if he’s already pretty cross-faded from the drinks and the joint. Tony smirks in response.

“I need to lie down,” Tony says, walking back inside Steve’s apartment. He was very good at acting like he owned any place he stepped into.

Steve follows and pours each of them a glass of water. “Okay,” he says, drinking it down in one go. He hands the full glass to Tony, who takes a sip as he undoes his tie; Steve tries not to stare.

Tony walks into Steve’s bedroom before Steve, yawning before lying down.

This isn’t new, either. Lying awake on each other’s beds, sometimes talking, but most of the time, not. What is new is Tony turning towards Steve and sliding an arm under his neck, pulling him close.

Steve feels pliant and loose, doesn’t really give a shit about anything so small as a cuddle, if that’s what Tony needs then, okay, okay.

It doesn’t have to mean anything, is all. His mind settles into a pleasant hum of emptiness, savoring the simple physical act of closeness. He tips his head up a little. He misjudges the angle, and their noses brush. Steve looks up at Tony, a little startled, and sucks in a breath when he sees Tony looking back at him, an intense, unreadable look in his gaze.

Tony’s eyes flick down to Steve’s lips, then back up.

Steve breathes.

He’s never been this close to Tony, close enough to see how close his shave is, to feel the faint ghost of Tony’s breath on his chin. Steve blinks, slow, languorous, before moving closer.

Thankfully, Tony meets him halfway.

They kiss gently, in the way only two drunk, stoned people do. Open mouthed and soft, luxuriating in each touch of their lips against each others’. Steve can feel every point of touch between them, can feel the heat emanating from under Tony’s clothes. Tony pushes against him, holds him close, kisses him until Steve groans.

Steve reaches up, fingers skimming Tony’s neck, before slowly unbuttoning his shirt. Tony huffs in response, kissing Steve again, again, again, and when Steve moves to unbutton the next—

Tony jolts up and backs away so quickly he almost falls off the bed.

Steve pushes himself up blearily, trying to get his bearings.

Tony holds his shirt closed, looking wide-eyed.

“What—”

“Steve,” Tony says, sounding out of breath. “Sorry. I just—I have to go.”

“Wait,” Steve sits up properly now, moves to get up, but Tony’s out the door before Steve can get any words together. Still, Steve tries, runs out the door after him and catches Tony standing in the elevator lobby, shoes in hand.

“What the fuck,” Steve manages. He feels half-sober, now, painfully so. It’s like he’s drunk and hungover at once, and rejected on top of everything.

“I can’t,” Tony says, not meeting his gaze. “Sorry.”

Steve rolls his eyes and sighs. “For god’s sake, Tony. Come back inside and put your shoes on there.”

Tony blinks at him.

Steve looks at him, then massages his temples. “I’m not going to let you leave in your socks. Come on. Have some water.”

They walk back to Steve’s apartment quietly, and Tony frowns at the glass Steve hands him.

“Are you for real?” Tony asks, sounding surprised.

Steve sits down and sighs. He drinks from his own glass before answering. “You can just tell me if you don’t like me, I can take it,” he says. For a brief moment, he goes back to what was happening barely an hour ago—minutes ago, even. Strange, how life is.

Tony sits down across him and sighs. He buttons up his shirt and downs the rest of his water.

“It’s not that.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, waiting.

Tony rests his head in his hands and sighs.

“How long have we known each other?” he asks.

“What?”

“Few years now, right?”

“Why does it matter?”

Tony bites his lip and looks away. Steve returns to massaging his temples.

“I am too fucking drunk for this,” Tony says, his voice just above a whisper.

Steve snorts. “Join the club.” Despite his words, he wants to touch Tony so badly it feels like an ache, but it doesn’t feel very appropriate.

Tony looks back at Steve, frowning.

“You know, I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

The words punch the air out of Steve. “What?” He recovers then adds, “I mean, me too, but.” He looks away, then looks back at Tony, feeling out of his depth.

Tony purses his lips, then sighs. “I knew getting drinks with you was a bad idea,” he murmurs.

Steve shakes his head. “You always go too hard.” Then the realization hits him: he knows for a fact that Tony only ever does this when they're together. It’s never been explicit, never discussed or planned ahead, but in the times they’ve spent with other people, Tony’s as in-control as usual.

It’s only when it’s just the two of them that Tony drops the act.

“What is it?” Steve asks. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Tony frowns some more, then takes a deep breath. “I know this is going to sound crazy. But bear with me.”

Steve nods slowly in response, dubious and a little worried.

Tony slowly unbuttons his shirt, and Steve realizes he’s holding his breath. He gasps when Tony undoes the fourth, then the fifth, pulling at the hem to show his chest—and what’s embedded in it.

“I—“ Steve says, his brain failing to come up with any thought other than loud screeching. “What?”

Tony looks up at him. “I’m Iron Man.”

Steve sputters. “No you’re not.”

“What?”

“You—I. What? How? When? What is that?” The questions tumble out of him and Steve has to consciously loosen his grip on the table.

“It’s reactor tech,” Tony says. “It functions like a pacemaker, when I’m not…” he trails off.

“When you’re not Iron Man,” Steve finishes for him. He feels unpleasantly lightheaded. “All this time?”

“I’m sorry—”

This snaps Steve out of his thoughts. “Why?”

“I should have told you sooner, I was such a coward—I just didn’t know, there’s just—”

Through the static noise of his thoughts, Steve notices that he’s never heard Tony speak so haltingly. He reaches over and takes Tony’s hand, caring for him coming as second nature at this point. “You don’t have to be sorry. I don’t know if I would have told you, either, if I was in your place.”

Tony’s staring at his hand, nestled in Steve’s palm. “You’re not mad?”

Steve reaches over again, this time to tilt Tony’s head up to meet his gaze. “Of course not.”

“But I might be,” he adds, smiling a little encouragingly at Tony. “If you don’t let me kiss you.”

A small, slow, shy smile blooms on Tony’s lips. “Good thing I’d like you to keep kissing me,” he says softly.

Steve stands up from his chair, leans over, and pulls Tony close. Through the haze of it all—the swirling effects of liquor and drugs, the surprise, still, of Tony’s confessions—the real revelation comes in the way Tony’s lips feel against his, quiet as a promise.

#stevetony #superhusbands #stony #steve/tony #steve rogers #tony stark #marvel comics #things i write #fluff #sorta??#idk jkdhfkj #anyway i hope yall enjoy it!

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taeminstetrislips · 3 years

Text

SCHOOL TRIP SERIES - ITALY PT. 3

Florence

After a bus ride full of UNO games, the group finally arrives in Florence. The entrance is announced by your professor at the head of the bus and in response, the entire group goes quiet. The occasional sigh of someone ogling the sights out their window is the only noise heard besides your professor. He begins reviewing the brief history you learned about the Medici family and their impact on art in the Italian Renaissance. Your first destination would not exist if it weren’t for them: The Boboli Gardens behind Palazzo Pitti.

Once you are all let off, you are lead through the beginning with narration from you professor almost like a tour guide. He describes Florence as being one of the largest contributors to Italian art with its many guilds. After a good thirty minutes, you are set free to wander. You easily break loose from the group and start to wander over to something that caught your eye earlier. Whether or not the rest of your friends followed, you didn’t know. Something was summoning you to this tunnel-like path, completely made of trees bending and folding into one another above you. You look at the perspective in front of you and take note that if you were a painter, you’d love to try and capture the beauty you saw before you. Letting the weight of your head fall backward, you squint into the sunlight streaming in between the leaves above you. It isn’t until then that you slowly turn 180 and catch Jaehyun looking at you. You let out a small laugh as a sign of slight embarrassment, but he doesn’t take his eyes off you. His small smile only grows into a grin before he walks closer.

As if in slow motion, he walks over to you and the wind picks up. It gently tosses his hair into his eyes and across his forehead as he speaks. “I saw you take off on your own and wanted to make sure you were okay. Looks like you found a pretty cool place.” Once he reaches you, his hand stretches out toward the side of your face and retreats with a leaf he pulled from your hair.

“Oh, thanks.” You say in response to the gesture and respond to his last statement with, “Yeah, I saw this before on the walk and knew I wanted to check it out before everyone else got here for pictures.”

“Fair,” he responds, continuing the walk through the tunnel toward the other opening where you are let out into yet another stylized garden with statues whose light and shadow of depth changes as the clouds pass over the sun. The two of you take time to silently observe the statues, walking calmly and enjoying each other’s presence. Although, you can’t help but notice the tension you feel in your chest as you occasionally sneak a peek at him or make fleeting eye contact. One time, you catch him looking at you first and he holds your gaze for a second, his eyes widening as if he was scared to be caught before slowly relaxing and turning away with a smile on his face. That dimple returns.

You get distracted by a buzzing in your pocket. Checking your phone, you see a text from Johnny that the rest of the group is by the lemon trees. You share this information with Jaehyun only to realize that neither of you remember how to get there. The two of you laugh together as you quicken your pace and try to navigate your way back to the group. At one abrupt turn, you are cut off by your professor strolling down a pathway. He looks at you suspiciously and you wonder why for a moment before realizing that this is the second time you were caught with Jaehyun somewhat out of breath away from others. You try to pretend that slightly dirty thought didn’t cross your mind and ask your professor if he knows which way it is to the lemon trees. He points you down the right path and you are on your way to the rest of the group.

It isn’t long after you unite with the group that you are all pulled away and driven to the Accademia Gallery. The goal is to see Michaelangelo’s David even though it is going to be very crowded. When you arrive, the crowd is so large that you all try your best to push through without knocking someone’s camera or phone out of their hands. Finding your way to an opening, you pull the first wrist closest to yours through the crowd to the backside of the sculpture. You see that you’ve gotten Johnny and his fancy camera. He’s talked about his interest in photography before and you remember how excited he was to get to photograph such a famous piece. Once he gets a good angle and a couple good shots, he comes back to you to thank you for getting an open spot. You ask to see the photos and he shows you.

“They’ll be better with editing. Honestly, that’s just as important for a photographer as the actual taking the picture itself,” he explains. “Oh my God, do you remember prof talking about this dude’s weak ankles?”

You laugh at the memory, “Yeah, I guess they look kinda weak?”

“Dude needs to hit the gym,” Johnny says, clearly with excessive sarcasm. However, some middle-aged American tourist lady nearby feels offended at the joke and shoots the two of you a death glare.

You point her out to Johnny with a small nudge of your elbow and nod in her direction. Once he’s seen her, you continue to poke fun at the proportions of the body, including parts that may not be appropriate for public conversation. This pushes Johnny to say, “ Can’t relate,” in a very deadpan voice loud enough for the woman to hear. She audibly scoffs in disgust at him, while you jab him in the side with your elbow while trying not to laugh. He pushes you gently in return, but you’re caught off guard and lose balance, almost directly falling into the woman. Now it’s your turn to glare at Johnny.

Just to change things up, you and Johnny begin a very educated discussion about how the proportions are exaggerated for perspective, how the symbol of David was actually a symbol for the city of Florence at the time, and the time when he was attacked by a man with a hammer, etc. etc. Basically, you were throwing all the facts out there that you knew until, finally, the woman walked away. Satisfied, you break through to the end of the crowd and scan the room for your friends. After strolling for a bit, you see Xiaojun just in a trance looking at the drapery on a female statue. “How’s it going?” you ask, somewhat startling him.

“Wow. Just- this is so- wow.” He manages.

You can’t help but laugh, “Very articulate. I like your review,” you tease. “Is this your favorite piece here?”

“So far, yeah.”

“Is there a gift shop here? Maybe we can get you a little replica.”

He gives you a small glare before turning back to the piece in front of him. “There has to be a gift shop somewhere nearby, we can go look if you want?” You nod in agreement. Shortly after, Renjun shows up followed by Sungchan.

Renjun asks, “What are you guys up to?”

You respond, “We were thinking of trying to find a gift shop somewhere nearby to pick up some souvenirs, wanna come?” Renjun agrees, then looks to Sungchan. “I’m down for anything as long as we can eat after,” he replies.

With that, Xiaojun takes on the responsibility of finding a place nearby. Once you arrive, the store says it’s a “gift store” but inside are not the museum keepsakes one might expect. Instead, there are a bunch of knick knacks and jewelry. But you all agree that you’ve made it this far and might as well check it out.

You wander through the scarves and stuffed toys before turning around and discovering the jewelry behind you. Renjun reaches out to a pair of earrings that had caught your eye and hold them up to the side of your face.

“How are they?” you ask.

“Really pretty! You should get these,” he says. You take them from his hand and check the price. It’s a little more than you want to spend and you think that you’d better save your money to buy gifts for your family or friends instead of yourself.

“They cost a little too much. Shame. They’re very pretty.” Renjun simply smiles in response with understanding. You don’t have much time to be upset before you’re distracted by a call from Johnny asking where you are.

“I’ve tried calling Sungchan AND Xiaojun AND Renjun. Jaehyun and I already left the museum,” he says on the other end of the line.

“We did too. We’re at a gift store right now but I think we’re going to go for food soon,” Sungchan interjects with agreement in the distance, “Want to just meet us there?”

“Sure.”

“Any ideas on where to eat?”

“Yeah, Jae and I found a spot we want to try out. I’ll send you the address.”

“Great. See you there,” you say before ending the call and rounding up the gang before making your way to the restaurant.

Masterlist

//Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait. I'm in grad school now so updates will take a while. But, I haven't given up on the series yet so let's keep it going y'all!

#nct #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #moodboard #schooltrip!AU #nct 127 #wayv #nct dream #Italy #johnny suh #Jaehyun #xiaojun #renjun #sungchan

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ratingtheframe · 3 years

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Why Armie Hammer’s Scandal Is More Than Kink Shaming

The 34 year old actor has had numerous allegations thrown his way this past month, from cannibalism to an obsession with BDSM. But do these allegations go beyond a widely accepted community of kink lovers and venture into deeply rooted misogyny?

Warning: this article contains mentions of cannibalism and sexual assault.

For those of you who aren’t aware of Armie Hammer’s presence on screen, you may be scratching your head and wondering what on earth people are talking about, seeing the cannibalism aspect to this all as face value without making the connection between Hammer’s past behaviours and current allegations. The actor who rose to prominence in Aaron Sorkin and David Fincher’s The Social Network (2013) playing both of the Winklevoss twins, has become quite the favourite amongst the film industry. His role Oliver in Luca Guadagnino’s Call me by your name (2017) has sent Twitter into a permanent frenzy as memes and daily adoration for Chalamet and Hammer’s on screen romance continue to thrive even 4 years after the film's release. As well as Call me your name, Hammer is known for roles in Sorry to Bother You (2018), Rebecca (2020), On the Basis of Sex (2018) and soon to be released, Death on The Nile (2021). He currently has another film due to be released and a Call me by your name sequel in development. Sounds as if he’s got a lot going for him and despite him not being the biggest star to be churned out of Hollywood today, the recognition is still there and with that, he’s still being paid.

The Allegations

At the beginning of the year, an account emerged under the handle of @houseofeffie, that was created to expose some lurid and unpleasant communication between several women and Armie Hammer. Some of which he had relations with whilst married to his now ex wife Elizabeth Chambers. The nature of these dms are incredibly disturbing and worrying considering that Hammer not only has children but as an actor, spends a proportionate time around women.

These are just a few of the messages that were exposed that led the media to brandish Hammer as a “cannibal”:

Hammer:

“You are the god damned standard I hold women to in terms of kink and enjoyment of fucking the[n]...”

“I need to drink your blood, why the distance?” “...thinking of holding your heart in my head and controlling when it beats”

“I am 100% a cannibal...I want to eat you....Fuck...that’s scary to admit..”

“I’ve cut the heart out of a living animal before and eaten it while still warm”

“You were the most intense and extreme version [that I’ve ever had]. Raping you on the floor with a knife against you. Everything else seemed boring”

“You [were] crying and screaming, me standing over you. I felt like a god. I’ve never felt such power or intensity.”

“You just live to obey and be my slave”

“Would you come and be my property till you die? If I wanted to cut off one of your toes and keep it with me in my pocket so I always had a piece of you in my possession?”

“I want to see your brain, your blood, your organs, every part of you… I would definitely bite it...100%”

...O-kay. Lots to unpack here. First and fore mostly, I’d like to address the kink shaming element to all of this. I personally don’t see any harm in kinks, BDSM, pornography, as long as people are consenting and aren’t inflicting unsolicited pain upon people. Therefore, kink shaming and finding Hammer’s taste in sexual preferences isn’t what we are here to discuss. In fact when I first read the allegations, that wasn’t even my initially thought. CNN posted an article two days ago titled “Armie Hammer May Be Disturbed, But Is Shaming Him the Answer?” an opinion based article by Aaron Weaver that explores the allegations and believes Hammer shouldn’t be shamed for his kinks. But this begs the question whether Hammer was actually being shamed? I didn’t see much evidence for this seeing as people were mostly horrified by his taste in human flesh than anything else, a kink that is uncommon in the BDSM community and is only practiced by the most extreme.

Kinks aside, the most worrying thing about the DMs above is the way in which he views women and their bodies. It’s clear to see that he might not have much respect for women seeing as he proudly states his willingness to cut them up and drink their blood. And funnily enough, the sexual objectification of women’s bodies for one's own sexual pleasure without considering their comfortability is classed as misogyny. A reddit user made an extremely good point on a thread about Hammer’s scandal stating:

“To me, the problem is not that he’s into rough sex, or that he has kinks some people find scary. It’s not about yucking his yum, so to speak. I’m more concerned that he may have ignored safe words and pushed his partners beyond their limits. I feel like the media is focusing so much on his kinks and sexuality as opposed to his ignoring of consent, which is a complete and utter inversion of priorities”

Past Relationships

Another example of Hammer disrespecting the boundaries of women and sexual pleasure would be his past girlfriend Paige Lorenze. Lorenze is a 23 year model and former professional skier who has shone a light on Hammer’s worrying behaviour and his involvement in BDSM activity. The sources of Lorenze’s allegations are highly unreliable, which is one of the most frustrating things about this entire charade. The BBC BRIEFLY covered the fact that Hammer dropped out of his latest film amid the allegations, without fully going into detail about the allegations or the abuse subjected towards his former partners. It just goes to show we’re rubbish at taking abuse seriously enough to the point where people are punished for their wrongdoings. Had a more reliable news source covered this story, then it’d make it more viable to the public. Even though this scandal is in its early days, that doesn’t necessarily mean it's unimportant or should be swept under the rug along with the hundreds of other scandals that Hollywood refuses to expose.

Only the Daily Mail, The Sun and Page Six seem to have gone in depth with the accusations, making the entire story rather murky for the reader. Anyhow, Paige Lorenze said to the Daily Mail that Hammer had carved an ‘A’ above her groin without her consent and licked it whilst it bled. He had also reportedly tied her up and hit her with paddles to fuel his BDSM obsession and sexual desires. Lorenze was quoted saying 'Any man who is fantasizing about crushing bones, eating them, having sex with female limp bodies is a danger to all women'. Hammer insisted to Lorenze that his behaviour was normal, and that there was an entire community of people that carried out the same things he did on her. This is partially correct seeing as the global sex play market is worth over $30 billion, with practices in such activities dating back to the mid 19th century. However, the one thing the BDSM community doesn’t condone is not giving consent, which is where the fine line is drawn in between Hammer’s sexual preferences and the BDSM community. His choice to carve that ‘A’ into Lorenze isn’t backed up by a wider community of people who enjoy a variety of sexual pleasure. Lorenze claims he also DMed nude photos of her being tied up to people without her consent, further perpetuating Hammer’s lack of respect towards people’s boundaries. This is a serious incident, that sees someone with more power (Hammer is 6’5 and Lorenze is 5’6 btw) assert their dominance and by doing so, degrades and harms someone else. We shouldn’t be kink shaming Hammer, but shaming him for thinking that this behaviour is acceptable.

Hammer’s previous relationships can also draw some light into his lack of respect for women. He and his wife Elizabeth Chambers divorced in July 2020 after a decade of marriage. Though it's unknown what triggered the separation, these recent allegations may have something to do with it. Furthermore, two other women have come forward to express their distaste towards Hammer and his questionable fantasies. Entrepreneur and ex-girlfriend of Armie Hammer, Courtney Vucekovich, told Page Six that Hammer wanted to “break [her] rib and barbecue it and eat it”. She also expressed how easy it was for Hammer to charm his way through into getting women, especially young women into doing what he wants through “active manipulation and making you feel like he’s never felt this way about anybody.” Lorenze was also subjected to similar retort after reporting that Hammer too wanted to barbecue one of her ribs because she “didn’t need it”. Writer Jessica Ciencen Henriquez took to twitter last summer after a lunch date with Hammer and expressed that she had blocked him on Instagram. She later went on to tweet this:

“If you are still questioning whether or not those Armie Hammer DMs are real (and they are) maybe you should start questioning why we live in a culture willing to give abusers the benefit of the doubt instead of victims”

Exactly my point here. There’s not much to this scandal other than the fact that several people were hurt and undermined and someone else caused it. Someone who is societally above everyone because of their race, class, status and gender, with a well connected and dominant family support system.

His background and past

Hammer comes from a very powerful and wealthy family. Hammer’s great grandfather, Armand Hammer, was the chief executive officer and president of the Occidental Petroleum company founded in 1920. Now if you’re wondering the exact scale of such a company that is still running today, they are the 4th largest oil and gas acquisition in the entire world worth over $100 billion. ONE HUNDRED, BILLION, DOLLARS. Not all actors in Hollywood can say that their great-grandfathers were worth that much, which gives me little hope in seeing Hammer be held accountable for what he’s done. He was also kicked out of UCLA after apparently not “being able to do it”. Just another rich white male with enough power, malice and money to work his way around any struggle.

Now that we’ve established Hammer’s allegations, it’s worth looking back to see whether the signs of such behaviour were already prevalent in the numerous interviews he partook in over the years. Complex highlighted an episode of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert from 2017, where the host brought up Hammer’s obsession with knots, to which he laughed off and claimed that “knots make sense” that they are a “language” and referenced how man used knots before the wheel. Valid points but ones that are debunked in light of his interest in BDSM. during a 2013 interview with Playboy (appropriate) Hammer expressed that his “sexual appetites changed'' when he married his wife and that hair pulling used to be something he enjoyed but could no longer do now that he was married “even though he wanted to”. This is quite the backwards comment when we’re talking about respecting boundaries and it's clear to see it was only a matter of time before his desires could no longer be repressed.

Since this whole shit storm began to travel Hammer’s way, he has since dropped out of the film The Billion Dollar Spy, which would’ve seen him star alongside Jennifer Lopez. BBC News reported that this move was made as Hammer stated that “I cannot in good conscience now leave my children for four months to shoot a film in the Dominican Republic” following the ‘vicious’ online abuse he’s been subjected to. Hammer was again put in the firing line by Grand Cayman law enforcement for lying about a woman provocatively shown in a video was Miss Cayman of the Miss Cayman beauty pageant that’s held on the island. He and the woman were warned for their misconduct and had confirmed the matter is now closed.

Final Thoughts

There are enough red flags in Hammer’s behaviour to open up a flag store, and I would go as far as to say that this isn’t the end of it. For someone who’s grown up having the majority of things they want, it's easy to want more beyond morality and despite the discomfort of others. Hammer’s move to drop out of his latest film was an attempt to lessen the blow of hate being turned towards him as opposed to the benefit of those he’s hurt. So far, him and his lawyer have denied all allegations and further action hasn’t been taken against the Hollywood star. He’s apologised for the DMs and brandished his actions a “foolish attempt at humour”.

Wrapping his own behaviour up in humour is an attempt to detract from the severity of the behaviour itself, whilst excusing it, something he can get away with because of his status.

Major media outlets haven’t done much in even attempting to expose this man’s behaviour and have left it up to unreliable sources to piece together the true persona of Armie Hammer. Though innocent until proven guilty, common sense is widely available to the general public meaning we should be delving into the past a little and comparing it to these allegations. Along with Hammer’s character, family and unnerving Instagram posts of cutting up meat and eating raw steak, there doesn’t seem to be much in the actor’s favour.

All I would say is as a director, producer, writer or actor, would you feel comfortable in being associated with someone who believes they're a cannibal and marvels at the idea of drinking human blood? Or someone who goes as far to objectify women to the point where they become nothing but sexual fulfilment and pieces of meat?

That’s all I’ll say and those who do feel comfortable doing such a thing means that Hammer may still have a career at the end of the day. One point to Hollywood, no points to political correctness and respecting women.

#armiehammer #call me by my name #actors #hollywoodmovies #paige lorenze

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