#been ranting about the voice acting to get it out of my system but otherwise it looks SO fun

[the-legendaryphoenix]

I honestly don't usually talk about serious stuff, but I feel I need to say it. Ive been having thoughts bottle up for the better part of a few months, and I have to put them all somewhere.

This will be somewhat disorganized, but I need to get my thoughts out there. These are also the deranged rantings of a college student that is up at 3 am due to an inability to sleep, so feel free to take all this with a grain of salt.

I talk about capitalism, socialism, power structures, future worries, AI, emotional issues, climate change etc in this essay here. If you're sensitive to those kinda things, feel free to ignore this/block me/avert your eyes. I won't mind.

Yall are not beholden to magically change the world. It's nearly impossible to. Mass societal change almost always come from grassroots movements. There's ... no other way to change society otherwise.

Take generative AI and all. Before 2023, it was just this novelty and a toy that only a few people took seriously. Fast forward a bunch of companies tinkering with it and more eyes slowly getting drawn to the tech and boom suddenly we got trade unions like SAG AFTRA having to throw the video game voice acting industry to the wolves in order to get protections for actors and writers. We didn't get that outta thin air. It was a thing that was built up over time, before suddenly exploding like this.

I'm not entirely convinced AI shit is purely a product of capitalism. AI is just another step in humanity's forever quest to optimise the fuck out of everything regardless of whether or not there's a soul left at the end of it. This would happen under capitalism or socialism. The government - no matter how many social programs they have - is not your friend. Corporations are not your friend (we're in this kind of AI mess because corporations wanna make a quick buck remember?) If it weren't to make money off the backs of artists under capitalism, AI would also be used to generate endless propaganda and distractions by socialist states in order to stop the transition to communism & remain in power. (Think something akin to 1984) Both corporations and the government are wolves in sheep's clothing at absolute best.

Im not saying socialism couldn't work or that it's worse than capitalism. I just dont think socialism would magically solve all the worlds problems at the snap of a dictator's finger. Alotta that has to do with power structures that will be talked about shortly. Also, socialism cannot exist in a democracy. If the people choose their leaders, then the leaders have to constantly farm support from those that help them get elected. And it's not really socialism if some people are getting more than others. That's just our current system but you got authroitarianism instead of democracy. And don't point to systems like those in Scandanavia. Those are capitalist countries. The amount of government safety nets does not change the fact that unless the government has complete control over the entirety of a country's economics, its not socialism.

Due to how power structures work, I don't think violence and/or revolution against the elite will solve anything. Violence would only give them a reason to pull one of their many strings to get a government or private organization to crack down on the rest of us. No one rules alone. There's always got to be others that do the work that leaders cannot physically do themselves. This means that Authoritarian leaders must always give money/favor and or turn the other cheek to the ones that help them rule, and that represenatives must be open to favoring their supporters. If that means the government/leader/whoever ignoring obvious problems, then so be it. And for revolutions, the citizens cannot complete one on their own. The millitary has to allow it. And the citizens do not exactly get to choose the next leader. The Americans won the revolution only because the British had to deal with economics and morale. Had they had unlimited money in their vault and the troops were always raring to fight, the Americans would have lost.

Anarchism would circumvent a lot of the needless power structule bullshit. But as long as humanity has desires, there will always be some method of control over a group of people. Anarchism and communism are amazing ideas on paper. I just cant see them working.

Going back to my main point, its likely that none of us will be able to change the world. At the same time, the world can change you. A lot of my views on politics, friendship, and life in general have shifted since I started studying at college. Through this, Ive come to also realize that getting all worked up about stuff is an exercise in futility. Reblogging posts doesn't change the world. Doomscrolling through reddit and tumblr hashtags doesn't magically solve all problems that you see in the world; it just makes you lie awake at 1:45 AM feeling horrible and all. Wondering if living is still worth it gets you nowhere. It just makes you feel like complete ass when the anxiety passes and you wonder why you were considering such things after seeing an image with impossible geometry/the wrong amount of fingers/inconsistent everything.

You're not given the secrets to life, the universe, and everything on a silver platter. You have to find them yourself. Even if the world/circumstances are determined to make you miserable. You still have to find what's important to you. Ironically, I did get that from somewhere else, namely Pokemon Scarlet... but I also practice Catholic Nihlism, so its also an independent thought I came up with myself. [God gave me the right to choose what meaning I derive from life so I'll do it damn it!]

To clear up worries AI, there's always going to be human soul in some form of art. Think of indie productions that literally do their own thing; regardless of what the market dictates. Think of local artists that perform in your local theater, make paintings for your local museum/gallery, and writers that just sit down one day and write down what's on their mind. In that regard, AI's a tool. Genuinely.

Ive witnessed my friend use it to brainstorm/assist in some pretty difficult narration/dialogue for their fanfic. Ive used it myself to brainstorm some of the more complicated logic for some of my programming projects. You can use it for good things actually.

It's like a hammer. You can use it to help you build a house. You can skip the hammer and use screwdrivers and also get a good house. But you wouldn't want to build a house entirely out of hammers for multiple reasons. If AI doesn't prove to be a passing fad, market forces might start working against it. Think of how many people are fed up with disney and marvel's bland formulism that still has humans behind the wheel. If they add AI to rush things to the big screen at breakneck speed, people are prolly not gonna waste their time anymore. They're probably just gunna not give studios their money. AI is extremely controversal too. The fact that alotta people aren't just rolling over and taking it is a good thing. [The deal SAG AFTRA signed sucks I get it but its kinda easy for VA's to just... strike. They can deny the use of AIs trained on their voice. That's ... something.] (There's also the whole studios pushing for NFT thing and how that was a collosal failure. Its kinda an apples to pears comparison, but I'd thought it was still relavant.)

I know Ive been kinda hard about human nature too; but cmon. Most people are great once ya hear them out. I met my 2 best friends from all of us willing to listen & work through the others' problems. Even strangers can be great. I can randomly spark up small talk with people Ive never seen before at college, and it always comes out great. Most peeps aren't chronically online! they love talkin in person!

Humans have the power to work through a lotta stuff too. Hell, even the most frog-in-a-boiling-pot thing known as climate change is being worked on. Assuming no further reductions in emissions are made, we'll end up 3 degrees warming at the end of the century. That's ... dangerous, but it's an improvement from Around the 2010's when climate change WAS apocolyptic. We were on the 4 degrees timeline, and we will not go back there unless we ACTIVELY try to. Even in the worst case, humans and nature are very stubborn. Things absolutely have been worse in earth's history. Things just happening faster that's the problem.

Though if you do wanna make an impact, local politics and conservation are your best options. You may not be able to change stuff nationally or globally, but local stuff does make a difrerence. (Also the point above about local indie artists :P local really is the best huh?)

Starting local also has the advantage of being grassroots. People respond better to changes in their local community than those from the feds. It also affects how they vote, which in turn affects who leads nations and all.

Hence, my point about grassroots, huh. full circle.

You don't have to change the world as you don't owe it anything; but if you feel like it, go for it! Form a small group! Be a force for change!

I know its a bit contradictory to originally say stuff about posting doing nothing, and then for me to turn around and do all this; but I make my own meaning :P. (Ain't nihlism awesome.) I also just mostly needed to collect my thoughts to share with my friends.

I don't have anything else to say right now, so thank ya if you read this far. Means a lot you took the time to read all this.

yeah, have a wonderful day. :3

#serious #serious post #reflection #self reflection #introspection #my thoughts #feel free to ignore #feel free to reblog #the world #i talk about society and the world and stuff #disorganized thoughts #rant post #personal rant

[vintage-bentley]

I’m gendercrit but holy hell I’m still shocked at how bad those comments were. I love how so many of the negative ones are like “as a polyace as a trans gay guy as an asexual,” go on to insist that PIV can be gay, when they have absolutely zero stake or should have any opinion on homosexuality at all. I’m also sure the author is probably gay or lesbian and they jumped on them for this - chastising them for being a bad gay basically, a bigot a terrible person, because having an opinion that’s absolutely 100% correct and based in the reality of sex and calling out homophobia is a sure fire way to get yourself crucified by people who appropriate shit. These people are batshit insane and hate gay people. Author should do an updated essay where they’re even more upfront and angry tbh especially since this GO attitude of ‘they’re not human they can mix match sex and still be gay” has literally spread to other fandoms with human gay couples and so where’s this excuse now? They don’t respect gay characters and they def don’t understand or share any common goals with actual gay ppl

The worst thing about those people acting like they have any say on topics about homosexuality, is that you can’t tell them otherwise without being told you’re some sort of phobic!! When it comes to all their made up issues, they have no problem saying “only ace people get an opinion!” But when it comes to actual real issues regarding homosexuals, suddenly it’s open to everyone. I wonder if it has to do with the way they’ve hijacked the word gay to no longer mean homosexual, but to instead mean “anyone who wants to call themselves gay to feel special”. As in, they think they’re gay because they want multiple partners, so they get a say in anything regarding gay people.

It’s even worse with “trans gays”…because you know damn well they’re literally homophobic heterosexuals…but you can’t tell them that unless you want to be called transphobic. And you know they won’t listen to you when you say “Aiden, you’re a homophobic straight woman, you get no say on this topic” because they’re so self-absorbed and so caught up in their own ideology that they don’t even listen to anyone who begins to invalidate their fantasy.

Point of that little rant is to say, it is so damn frustrating to see a bunch of non-homosexuals acting like their opinion holds the same weight as homosexuals when it comes to discussing our sexuality…and knowing that their ideology enables them so much that you can’t say anything about it, they’ll just tune you out. It’s frustrating to know that I can give my opinion as a homosexual, only to be overruled by a straight woman calling herself an “aromantic trans nonbinary man” who thinks her fake identities give her more say than me.

And yes, the backlash to the essay absolutely has to do with the idea of a (presumed) homosexual stepping out of line. These people see gays as pawns and objects they own, and hate to see us having our own voice that opposes theirs. Because they think they’re entitled to our agreement and compliance.

They’re also accustomed to being in a community where everyone has the same opinions, everyone claims they’re gay, and everyone validates them. So I think it’s an absolute shock to them when somebody they assume would be in this same boat, has a mind of their own. It’s like, “what? You’re supposed to be Mindless Genderist #200, especially because you’re gay! How could you betray our community like this?”

If the author is still around here and reading this, please please please write another essay, I will eat it up. The first one did a really good job of being respectful and not heavy-handed on the gender critical aspect, which I think is the reason it resonated with me. If it was explicitly a “terf” essay, all my critical thinking would’ve been shut down because Terf Bad. But because it was just laying out points with no belief system attached, I was able to go into it just as a homosexual and find my agreement that way, not swayed by any pressures to believe a certain ideology. But it would be great to read another one that is more firm and angry, because lord knows it would be more than justified.

And I’ve noticed that too, that the “they’re not human, so they can’t be gay” excuse has spread to other fandoms. It’ll just take different forms depending on what’s available in the media’s universe. So for example, in a universe with magic, the fandom will use the magic system as an excuse for why the characters can’t possibly be gay (but they can be anything else). In a universe without magic, it’ll be something like “well, these characters are so deep and complex, so it’s not good to limit them to a label like gay (but they can be anything else)”.

It’s very clear to me that it’s not actually about trying to find interesting and complex ways of worldbuilding like these fandoms claim. Because if that was the case, why would homosexuality need to be ruled out? Wouldn’t it be interesting to discuss how this very real and important experience fits in with the universe in question? Instead, this is clearly about how fandom has always been homophobic, and they’ve finally found an acceptable excuse for it. Why else would the focus constantly be on explaining why characters can’t possibly be gay?

#asks #anon

[bi-bard]

your touch brought forth an incandescent glow; tarnished but so grand - Morgana Pendragon Imagine (Merlin)

Title: your touch brought forth an incandescent glow; tarnished but so grand

Pairing: Morgana X Reader

Song Drawn: ivy

Word Count: 707 words

Warning(s): mentions of Uther

Summary: Morgana has found someone to keep her above water. It's a beautiful thing to find.

Author's Note: I can't remember the last time I wrote about Merlin but I'm happy to be back.

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

It was quiet when I heard a knock on my door.

My instincts suspected the worse. Why would anyone come to a small house in the middle of the night with no warning?

I walked over slowly, trying to keep from making noise as I made my way to the door.

"(Y/n)," I heard a familiar voice whispered. "It's me. It's Morgana."

My eyebrows furrowed and I sped up my steps. I pulled the door open to see that Morgana was actually standing on the other side.

"Morgana," I asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to get away from the castle," she explained. "Just for the night."

"Come in," I stepped to the side. "Did something happen?"

She sighed as I closed the door behind her, "Uther is being himself."

I frowned.

I knew how that man could be. I had been serving in the castle for a long time. Morgana had spent plenty of time ranting to me about how the king acted.

Uther was never a great man. He seemed to think that he was keeping people safe, but it was at the cost of the happiness of many people that were supposed to look up to him. It was a pointless system. Granted, I would never say that to his face.

"I'm happy to have you here, but won't I be executed if Uther finds out that you're here," I asked.

"I'll sneak out before he even knows I'm gone," she waved off the thought but saw that I wasn't comforted. "Do you want me to go?"

"No," I shook my head. "Not at all."

She smiled. Enchanting.

I motioned over to the small bed in the corner, "You can rest in the bed. I'll be okay with a few blankets on the floor."

"Nonsense," she almost snapped at the suggestion. "You are not spending the night on the floor."

"I've slept in worse places."

"I don't care," she scoffed. "Come on. I'm sure we'll both be comfortable. Just like in the castle."

"Another thing that you've insisted about that could've gotten me killed," I mumbled.

"I had been having terrible nightmares, you were the only one who listened to me," she explained.

"And I risked my life for it," I teased.

"That's how I learned that I could be very convincing."

"Happy to be an experiment," I chuckled.

"Come on," she held a hand out to me. "Let's get some rest."

I nodded and accepted her hand.

Soon, we were laying face-to-face in my bed. It was silent and calm. Like any noise would break something fragile between us. Morgana took the risk.

"I was never having nightmares," she whispered.

"What," I asked.

"When you stayed with me," she explained. "It wasn't because I was having nightmares. I just wanted to spend more time with you."

"Why lie about it," I furrowed my eyebrows.

"You would never have agreed otherwise," Morgana argued. "The risk was too great."

"Morgana," I muttered.

"I'm sorry," she closed her eyes and tried to hide her face in the pillow.

I scooted reached over and grabbed her hand, "It's okay. I... I'm not upset. I enjoyed staying with you."

She opened her eyes and smiled at me.

I smiled back.

"I should run away," she suggested.

I let out a shocked laugh, "Where would you go?"

"Some small village in the middle of nowhere," she said. "Somewhere where no one would recognize me. You could go with me."

"I'm very fortunate for my work, Morgana," I said.

"But we would be happier if we were away from all of this."

"Until the money ran out."

"I don't care about the money," she rolled her eyes. "I just want to know that you're there."

I stayed silent.

"You've planted root in me, (Y/n)," she ran her thumb over my knuckles. "I wouldn't be able to go without you."

I thought about the risks for a moment. If I were to leave, would I survive? If Uther ever found us, I would be executed.

"Maybe one day," I let out in a whisper.

"One day," Morgana whispered back before pulling me closer. Our foreheads touched and our legs intertwined. "I can live with 'one day'."

"So can I."

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

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[tendousthoughts]

HQ Boys Calling Their S/O Clingy Pt. 1

Character(s) included: Iwaizumi and Ushijima

Warnings: slight cursing

A/N: so imma try to make this look really pretty and shit. But if you want a pt 2 just put it in my ask box + what characters you want next! So I don’t know what to call this format thingy but anything with the line next to it (like now) is what happened the day before (when they called their s/o clingy) and everything not in that day won’t be! I also just ate like five airhead lmao. Well enjoy! Reblogs & follows are greatly appreciated! My ask box is always open to request, and if you wanna talk or just wanna say something! Please don’t laugh at my grammatical or spelling errors, I’m sorry!

My Masters List: here

My series : here

Credit: @/teesumu

Iwaizumi

When he came home all you wanted to do was hug him. It had been almost a week since he had gotten his new job. He was stressed all the time and never had time for you two alone. So what if you want just hug him for a bit.. you deserve that much right just that much of his time? So he walked in, and your eyes lit up... he was one of the few people you felt safe around. You ran up to him with a big smile and that goofy lovable personality of yours.

“Dinner is ready and then we can cuddle and maybe watch a movie. I have it all planned out!” You smile laughing a bit just imagining how fun it will be. He doesn’t look so amused though.

“I ate already and I am going to bed, y/n.” He didn’t even give you a second to process what he had said instead he just walked away. You follow him to the room you share smiling.

“Oh okay! We can just cuddle then!” You smile a bit and hop onto the bed next to him. Wrapping your arms tightly around him, not too tight, just perfect, you smile. Till you are shoved off. He looked at you with pure annoyance.

“Y/n, can you stop being so fucking clingy. You never stop trying to touch me,” He screamed and you just sat there with tears. God damnit. He was right, wasn’t he? You never gave him space. He turned his back and you turned away too. The tears silently fell.

The morning came faster than it should have. By the time he was awake you were out of the room. He got up and walked out and entered the kitchen.

“Morning y/n, I have the day off so we can do anything you want,” he smiled as he walked in, yet you weren’t there. He searched the whole house and you weren’t there. An hour passed and you walked in.

“Uh hey y/n.. where’d you go? I mean like you weren’t there when I woke up, love?” He smiled and you just gave a soft smile.

“Oh.. um I just went for a random drive for some coffee and drove nowhere for like twenty minutes,” you lied. You love doing that but to be honest you were talking to Oikawa for a bit and ranting to him.

“Oh um.. I have the day off if you just wanna hang out? Maybe go for dinner or something?” He smiles hopefully.

“Uh sure..” you sat far from him on the couch as the movie started. He looked at you and you tried not to pay attention.

“Uh do you need something?” You turn towards him.

“Oh um.. no, never mind,” he looks back at the tv confused. He wanted to cuddle yet was too embarrassed to say so.

Thirty minutes passed by and you were quite distant. “Um do you wanna cuddle or something..?” He smiles hopefully.

“I’m good thanks for asking,” you remain glaring at the tv.

“Um y/n is everything okay.. you’ve been really distant and I know you went to Oikawa’s place yet you told me otherwise..” he looks at you.

You freeze looking at him again, you look like a deer in headlights. Frozen and shocked. You say the first thing that comes to mind which is extremely dumb. “Uh I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You helplessly smile.

He looks at you, shocked. You were a terrible liar yet you still tried to, “why are you lying? I know you were there just tell me.”

“Last night I was thinking that you are right. I am too clingy and I need to give you some space,” you keep your on him “This morning you weren’t up and I just felt like talking so I decided to head out and not bug you.” Your voice breaks as tears roll down your cheeks. Wiping them away quickly hoping he doesn’t notice but it is already too late.

“Y/n... I didn’t mean it,” he feels like absolute shit right now and he doesn’t know what to do. “I..I like how you cling to me and how you just act like yourself. I..I love the sound of your voice so you can always talk to me. I didn’t mean for me to come off so rude to you and hurt you... you mean everything to me. I am so sorry y/n for making you so fucking uncomfortable. This is your house too and I shouldn’t do that to you...” he whispers holding your hands in his as he pulls you closer. Lifting you to his lap.

You try to climb off but his grip just gets tighter in a protective way.

“I’m sorry y/n... I didn’t mean any of that. I will make more room for us to hang out...” He smiles a bit wrapping his arms around your waist. “I love you so much..”

“I..I love you too,” you make out in between heavy deep breaths

Ushijima

You tried to call him multiple times, it was extremely late and you were worried. He normally would text you if he was going to practice a bit longer or he was going to head to dinner with his team. Knowing how worried you get and not wanting you to make him a whole meal when he is full. Yet he never picked up it was probably twelve thirty when he walked in.

He tried to walk in silently but soon found you awake in bed. You smile a bit getting up and giving him a hug. “Hey baby..” you mumble with your sleepy voice “where were you? I was worried sick,” you didn’t sound mad, just concerned. 

He slightly shoved you off making his way to his dresser to change. “Out.” He grumbled a bit.

“Are you hungry? I made dinner..” you smile slightly making your way closer to him.

“Can you just leave me alone? I don’t need you to be so god damn clingy! You’re not my mom and I am a grown ass adult. I don’t need you to stay up wondering where I was!” He took a deep breath calming down. You slowly backed down and just laid at your side of the bed closing your eyes. Slightly thinking about all the “problems” you have.

Morning came and when Ushijima woke up he was later than usual needing to rush a couple of things. You were on the couch, as he came in he looked for something to eat. “Y/n, do you know if there is anything I can eat?” He called out.

“I don’t know you can look, can’t you?” You look up from your computer for a split second before returning to gaze at your computer.

“Uh.. ya. Well bye!” He grabbed a banana and grabbed his stuff. Rushing out the door unsure what had possibly made you so harsh that morning. Forgetting everything he had said the night before.

When he came home it was early and you were already eating while using your phone. “I’m home!” He called.

You just smiled and returned eating. Your eyes locked on back onto your phone. Typing for a second.

“Who are you texting babe?” He smiled as he walked in.

“No one” you put your phone down. The sound of a text came up but you just ignored it walking to put your dishes away and then grabbing your phone to go back to your room.

“Uh.. y/n? You wanna hang out for a bit?” You turn and just shake your head.

“No I’m good thanks though.” You mumble before walking away. Him following close after.

“Are you okay..?” He mumbles as he joins you in bed.

“Ya. I’m fine,” you mumble as you plot your headphones in listening to some music.

He taps your shoulder and you take out one of your earbuds. “What’s going on.. what did I do?” He mumbled.

“I mean I am not your mother so I don’t understand why you need me to hang out with you and be your best friend. I mean I am just too clingy aren’t I?” You burst out.

“What?” He looks at you for a moment remembering the night before. “Wait y/n.. I didn’t me-”

“I don’t care if you didn’t mean it! You made me feel like absolute shit!” You look at him before getting up and heading to the spare room. “You can leave and go out. I don’t give a fuck just leave me alone for a bit.”

He goes to check on you two hours later. When he walks in he finds you crying. “Y/n, can we talk?” He whispered softly in his calming voice.

You look up wiping your tears. “I guess.”

“May I sit on the bed or would you like some space..?” He really didn’t want to make you feel worse then you probably already did.

“I don’t care do what you want,” it wasn’t like you to be so snappy. But you just wanted to get it out of your system. He sat down next to you and slowly reached out his arms. You slowly entered his embrace as he held you tight whispering sweet nothingness into your ear. His words are full of praise and truth.

“I am so sorry I made you feel like that. I should have texted you back. I know that you were just worried,” he rubbed your back slowly, making soft circles. “I don’t find you clingy.. and I like when you take care of me. You mean the world to me and I am sorry I made you think otherwise..”

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[zodiyack]

In Regards Of My Ex

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst

Words: 2,125

Summary: Niklaus believes deceitful gossip from Aurora De Martel about his wife and takes his anger out on her. As a result, Y/n leaves and finds comfort with Cami and Davina, who call in backup to confront the big bad hybrid about his big bad dumbassery.

Note: I’ve been in a fluffy mood as of recently HOWEVER this idea was sparked when I was feeling angsty™ so...sorry but also not sorry?

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @fandom-puff​, @simonsbluee​, @darling-i-read-it​, @jenepleurepasbaby​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @dpaccione​

Masterlist | The Originals Masterlist

Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

“That wife of yours has been sneaking around with my brother. Breaking more hearts than just yours from what I can see.”

“I suppose some people just can’t see the worthiness of the king in front of them. If I were your wife, I wouldn’t be like Y/n. I’d be committed you and never give you fib tales like her.”

“You are aware that Y/n has been plotting something nefarious against you, aren’t you?”

“I know you wanted to marry someone just as sinister as you, but perhaps you should’ve checked where her loyalty lied before tying that knot.”

Aurora fed him stories such as these, and many more, each conclusion of the lies spewing from her mouth something appalling about Y/n. At first, Klaus didn’t listen, but as her stories grew worse and worse, the faux feeling of treachery intensified. He knew it was unwise to believe anything that came from the spiteful, jealous woman...yet, his distress caused pain to strike his heart and he yearned to know the truth.

Although, in this case, the “truth” wasn’t actually very truthful.

She often told him things like that Lucien was going after his girl for the second time, first with her when she had her chance and now, his beloved wife. Klaus merely brushed it off with an honest “he tries and I’ll stake him first chance I get”. However, Aurora wasn’t finished yet. She continued to lie and deceive Niklaus about the woman who she accused of replacing her in his life. The envy and loathing Aurora felt for Y/n was her motivator, but the woman was too far up a wall to need one in the first place.

“Are you telling me the truth?” He growled, keeping his eyes trained at the wall in front of them.

“Why do you ask?”

“I need to know I can trust your bold claims. So answer me, Aurora, are you telling me the truth?”

That smug little grin, masking her deluding ways. “Of course, Nik. I would never lie to you.” Her welcome into his trust was unsurprisingly taken advantage of  when she traced her finger down his arm and then brought her hand up his abdomen slowly. Klaus shoved her invasive hand off of his chest though, giving her a warning glare.

“Thank you for informing me.” That was all he said to her before he made his way out of the room in the most hurry she’d ever seen him in.

Aurora smiled conceitedly. Her plans were on the right track. Whilst Nik didn’t have the same feelings for her now as he did way back during the beginning of their story, but Aurora was determined to stir those feelings from the dead as vampirism did him and her.

She drawled under her breath, “I will have you again, Nik.” her mischievous smile grew wider, “I will have you again, and nothing can stop me this time.”

“Blasphemy!” Niklaus shouted, veins popping out from the rage coursing in his system. He neared Y/n again, the slight fear in her eyes drawing a pause for a second, guilt stilling him, but his anger took the reigns once more.

“It’s not blasphemy! I would never lie to you!”

“The falsity of your deception proves otherwise, love.” He smirked, raising his brows as to question if she would battle his words yet again. Proof was what he needed, but his vexation had drowned out all logic, including his ability to see the proof he wanted so desperately.

“What deception? What falsehood do you believe to have come from my mouth? When I married you, I vowed to be truthful and loyal. You of all people on this fucking earth should know I always keep a vow.” She narrowed her eyes at him. The betrayal he thought he felt was temporary and fabricated, but hers was 100% genuine and seething within her.

“You say that but if you were indeed an untrue person, your answer would be no different.”

“Why do you insist on proving me a traitor!? What has pushed you so far past your breaking point that you actually accuse me, your wife, as a viper?”

“Don’t you pretend like you don’t know the malicious schemes you’ve plotted against me or the affairs you’ve had with men who obviously aren’t your husband!” He couldn’t stop himself now; “I’ve loved you for centuries and you decide to be disloyal and ill-natured?!”

“Says who?!”

“Says Aurora!” After the words flew from his mouth, a tiny part of him realized just how fucked up it sounded. Just how fucked up it was that he believed her over his wife, but the hybrid was stubborn. He was too stubborn to change his belief or admit his fallacious accusations were unjust without proper evidence.

Y/n knew Aurora and Klaus’ story. Her knowledge of the ancient and long forgotten tale made her reaction thousands of times worse. “Aurora? ...Huh. You choose to believe her- that manipulative, lying bitch, over me? I thought you knew me better than that.” She wiped away a rebellious tear, “I thought I knew you better than that.”

Disappointment hung heavy on her features, drawing a feeling of shame from Klaus. Y/n glared at him one last time, her knitted brows and vaguely teary eyes evidence of the heavy-heartedness that overwhelmed her. She bit the inside of her mouth and shook her head disapprovingly before turning and walking out the front gate-doors of the Mikaelson mansion. Klaus was alone.

The sounds of Davina’s giggles echoed, Cami sitting in front of her and chuckling heartfully as well. Their laughter died off when they noticed Y/n sulking through the front doors of Rousseau's. The place was empty aside from the two women having drinks and a friendly chat. Then Y/n entered and found a seat. The atmosphere, once cheery, suddenly felt melancholy.

“Hey, Y/n, you alright?” Camille’s smile was wiped from her lips. She felt empathy for Klaus’ wife and, as a friendly person in general, she felt overcome with the need to help solve the complication that made her feel so down in the dumps.

“I’m-” She was ready to say fine, Davina and Cami knew it, but she broke down in tears before she could even shape an “o” with her lips. Both women jumped up immediately and sat in the seats beside Y/n. Though Davina couldn’t stand Klaus, she actually liked Y/n and seeing her hurt sent searing pain into her own heart.

“It’s okay, hun,” Cami wrapped an arm over Y/n’s shoulder, her other hand rubbing her other shoulder and arm comfortingly, “take as long as you need, there’s no pressure, no rush, none of that. We’ve got you.”

And so they did. The two women took turns holding Y/n as she cried, and before long, she was ready to talk. She explained Klaus’ anger and the source of their fight, the source of the fake news he’d lashed out because of. Davina and Cami shared a glance when Aurora was mentioned, both women already hating her but equally despising her even more now. Y/n sobbed, crying into Cami’s shoulder about wanting Klaus to just believe her. She said she loved him and because of that, she felt pained by his lack of belief in her.

“He’s not worth it if he can’t see how wrong that decision was-”

“I know, but he’s my husband. I vowed to love him always and forever, to never leave his side, and I intend to keep that vow...so long as he doesn’t do anything to fuck it up any more than he already has.”

The sun began to sink into the dark, not fully quite yet, but still creating it’s beautiful array of colors as a final act before disappearing for the night. About halfway through Y/n’s rant, Cami called Hayley and gave her a summary of what she knew so far. A promise of arriving as soon as she could was returned on Hayley’s end before the line went dead and Cami returned to the table.

Still not entirely after sunset yet, Hayley swung open the door to Rousseau's, catching Davina and Y/n off guard. Despite being the one who called her, Cami stayed seated. Y/n and the witch beside her exchanged confused expressions.

“Are you just gonna sit there or are you gonna tell me what the hell I need to do to Klaus?”

Y/n chuckled softly, wiping away more of the salty tears, before standing and walking over to Hayley, greeting her with a hug. “You don’t have to get involved if you don’t want to-”

“No, trust me, I have to and I want to.” She pulled away and dropped her warm smile, giving Y/n the most serious look she could muster. And as she was Hayley Marshall, it was effortlessly pretty fucking serious. “Now, I want you tell me everything,” the mom voice came out to play, “don’t leave a single detail out. Then, we can discuss what we’re going to do about it.”

“Where is he?”

Rebekah had been informed by the pissed off werewolf and bartender everything that had happened, resulting in her becoming equally upset. She welcomed Hayley inside the gates and nodded her head up the stairs. “I haven’t said anything to him, so you’ll be lucky enough to catch him by surprise.”

The werewolf nodded in understanding before pacing toward the stairs irritability. “Thanks.”

“Make it hurt!” Rebekah’s voice faded away as she walked out the gates, leaving Hayley alone to find Niklaus.

Atop the stairs, she found no sign of anyone whatsoever, but that was only on the outside. If Klaus happened to be inside on of the many rooms, she wouldn’t waste her time searching. Instead, she waited, leaning against the railing and doing a breathing exercise Y/n taught her during one lonely full-moon. 

After minutes of waiting, Klaus finally walked out of a door and started for the stairs. It wasn’t longer than a minute before he stopped in his tracks and realized he’d missed something. He shot a double take in Hayley’s direction, a puzzled expression quickly finding way to his face. It seemed as though he was contemplating whether or not her unexpected appearance was a good thing or a bad thing.

When he seemingly couldn’t make up his mind, staring a few minutes longer, a heavy sigh left her mouth. She was ticked off with him before, but after hearing everything Y/n had to say, she was furious. No, more than furious. The blood boiling rage was incessantly pounding in her head, all she wanted was cause destruction and pain. A rare thing for her.

But now was not the time to lash out, not yet. She inhaled and exhaled, Hayley shifted on her feet and looked around before turning her head to Klaus and beckoned him over to her with a come-hither motion of her index finger.

“What is it?”

She looked at him, flabbergasted that he’d even ask a question as stupid as that, “What is it? What is it, Klaus?” Hayley slapped him, the man doubling back and blinking in astonishment. And not the good kind.

“How dare you lay your hands on me, you-”

“So you’re gonna yell at me now?” She crossed her arms, and unimpressed look resting upon her face. “You know, personally, I think Y/n is better off without you but she’s broken and has been bawling her eyes out nonstop for hours on end, drinking away all the pain that you’ve formed into a stake and shoved into her chest.”

He stopped, fury fleeing his face as he experienced what felt like her words body-slamming into him.

“And guess who’s been there to pick out the splinters?” She poked her finger against her chest over and over again. “Me!” Her eyes never left his, telling him just how sincere about this she really was. “Me! Cami- even Davina!” Hayley threw her hands in the air, emphasizing the shock that came with the information. “Rebekah’s on her way over now, and I’m sure Elijah will see to it that he comforts his sister-in-law as much as he can, but you?”

“I-”

She cut him off, temper still unquenched, thirsty for vengeance. “Let me finish.” She growled. Hayley looked around the room in attempt to calm herself, but it was to no avail.

“You got her into this mess. I just hope you get both of you guys out of it.” She flicked her eyes back to his, giving him her infamous dead eyed glare. “I really hope you do. And you better do it soon. Because I won’t be there to pick the splinters out for you when she realizes she doesn’t need your sorry ass.”

#klaus mikaelson x reader #niklaus mikaelson x reader #joseph morgan x reader #klaus mikaelson imagine #imagine klaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson imagine #joseph morgan imagine #joseph morgan #the originals #tvd #tvd x reader #tvd imagine #the originals imagine #the originals x reader #the vampire diaries #x reader #zodiyack #all readers #reader insert #imagine #klaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson

[jiminiesmagicshop]

NOTICE: ONE

Warnings: whoops attempted* angst ;0 other than that, none

Song inspos: it’s ok if you forget me, Astrid S (but imagine the exact opposite of what she sings) & mess it up, Gracie Abrams :’)

Word count: 1,500+

Summary: Jimin notices way too much about you, while you don't notice nearly enough about him. He also needs to invest in some hoodies.

a/n: hi hii :) this is my first completed fic i've writen on here, or anywhere at all for that matter kaplskjjs ahh i really hope you like it. Let me know what you think, feedback is super super welcome!! there is a flashback that's written in italics, and i took ridiculously long trying to come up with a summary which i'm sTILL iffy about. i'm also new on here so let's be frens :))

______________________________________________________________

Park Jimin has never regretted something more in his life. Sure there was the time when he hadn’t listened to his mom when she told him not to climb that one tree in their backyard, which ended with him in a very itchy cast and a long scolding from his mom. Now, years later, he wished his mom had warned him before he gave you a part of him you’d never want or need; his heart.

It’s not like he didn’t know what he was getting himself into, he knew you held his heart in your small hands (even smaller than his, HA! ) and he thought he didn’t care. Oh how naive he’d been to think that.

2 months ago:

It had been exactly seven months and three days since he realized he was in love with you, his best friend of six years. You had cried in his arms over Aaron? Adam?? He couldn’t really remember who it was this time.

“Why won’t he love me?” His heart breaks as you look at him as though you really want an answer. “Why won’t any of them love me?”

His fingers twitch at your waist. He wants to scream about how much he loves you but he refrains, settling instead for a small pained smile. He doesn’t try to say anything, not trusting himself to not ask you the exact same question. Why won’t you love him? He hugs you harder into his chest as a new wave of tears rack through your body.

He was wearing the purple hoodie you’d once mentioned you loved seeing him in. It was beginning to fray on the left shoulder where you’d always lean into while you cried. Not that you’d notice anyway, but he always wore it when you called with a shaky voice and he invited you over. It felt like it was yours, same as his heart.

He didn’t know how you couldn’t see it. The way he’d drop anything and everything for you. Let you pick any version of himself, let you mould him in any way if it would get you to love him back. He’d always adored you, and somewhere along the line you’d subliminally snatched his heart.

Maybe you’d never love him the way he did you, but he had hope. His heart was big enough. No matter how long it took, how many times you unknowingly broke it, he’d always have enough left to give to you.

He watched you cry and only when you finally curled up, something between a wheeze and a snore coming from you did he speak.

“I love you, i love you forever. Promise.”

He knew you hadn’t even heard the promise he’d made to you two months ago, yet he couldn’t help but feel guilty knowing he needed to break it. His friends knew him to be very loving, very selfless, he feels selfish now. He’s leaving merely to save his own heart, breaking yours (though for a totally different reason) in the process.

He’d watched as you gave your heart to different men, never once thinking to give it to him. He was never even an option for you and that hurt. You couldn’t blame him for falling for you, not when you cared so deeply for everyone continuously giving your heart no matter how many times it broke you just gave and gave. The two of you are similar in that sense.

Loving you is painful, like he’s bursting into flames and freezing at the same time. He can’t keep this up. He doesn’t know how to act around you anymore. Hugging you was never a problem, everyone knows how touchy and affectionate he is, however every hug he’s given you in the last few months, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He usually wears his heart on his sleeve, now he feels he needs to constantly check himself hoping you didn’t catch him smiling dopily in your direction.

Jimin couldn’t talk to you without wondering if something he said sounded suspiciously like an ‘i love you’. He couldn’t even listen to his favourite songs anymore, they all reminded him of you, probably because you introduced him to most of them, it hurt all the same.

Had he fallen out of line when he kissed you on the cheek days ago?

He remembers thinking he was invincible when he made that promise, thinking his heart could take it. He also remembers you saying you’d never love someone as much as Andrew? What was his name damnit?

He noticed everything about you, and frankly he was tired. He needed some time to think, to rebuild his heart. To un-notice everything.

He zips up his suitcase, the moving van would be by in a bit to pick up the remaining boxes. The daisies on his windowsill that you got him for his birthday last year are drying up, he notices with a sigh. With one last glance at the room he releases his grasp on the purple hoodie and walks out the front door.

He hasn’t answered your calls all day, and he probably wouldn’t for a while... not that you know that. You think nothing of it as you drive up to his house, eyes puffy from all the crying you’ve been doing. Alex had just called asking to take a break, something about you being too intense and you couldn’t help but replay every moment in your head wondering where you went wrong. You badly needed to rant to your support system otherwise known as Jimin, craving one of his hugs.

You don’t even notice his black Porsche missing from his driveway. And you don’t think much of it when he doesn’t answer the door, simply pulling out the spare key he gave you for moments just like this.

You do, however, notice the emptiness of his house. Where in the heck did his couch go? And why is his house so cold? Where are all the pictures of the two of you and his family that decorated his walls. You’re beginning to get frantic as you search through room after room for something, anything to make this less real. To show you he’ll be back shortly. That he didn’t just up and leave.

Whatever the reason, you’re sure you can get him to come back, or at least talk to you. “Chim?” Your voice echoes through his hallway. Your converse screech on the bare floor and you’re running down the hall to his bedroom. You’re stumbling now, eyes blurry with tears and you call out again “Jimin?” He was really gone.

You only just catch yourself before you hit the ground. You stare at the purple material that had snagged your foot. A purple hoodie lies by you on the floor. You’re sobbing.

Jimin swears the distance between his house and where he’d parked his car a block away wasn’t this long. He’s panting as he grips the door handle, stumbling inside with sweat making his recently dyed-pink hair stick to his forehead.

It was definitely rash of him to just leave the hoodie behind. It was too sentimental to just leave here to collect dust until the landlord discovered it. He missed it already. It smelt partially of you after all your cuddling sessions, and as embarrassing as it might sound, he needed it.

He jogs down the hallway, all the memories the two of you had here send a pang straight to his chest that has him tripping over his feet. That’s when he hears it. Sniffling. Someone was sniffling in his house. More curious than scared, the boy takes cautious steps past the bathroom and towards his bedroom.

His hand comes to rest over his heart, when he sees a head of long pink hair, shade identical to his save for the few bleached streaks he’d missed when the two of you had dyed each other’s hair. His fingers itch to bring you to his chest. You were crying. Because of him.

He reaches out to touch you, his first instinct being to pull you into him, but he stops in his spot when the floorboards beneath him creak. He waits for you to whip around and hug him, maybe scream at him for scaring you with his absence like that. His face scrunches up at your words.

“I can’t do this without you, why would you just leave?”

Jimin has to press a hand into his mouth to keep the sob threatening to expose him silent. Why was he not surprised. Of course you hadn’t noticed how much he’d been struggling the past few months. How his love for you far surpassed that of a best friend. He doesn’t know why he thought you might have noticed. In fact, when was the last time he’d talked to you about his problems?

Whatever fragments there are left of his heart ache. He suddenly misses his mom. Misses her scolding more than anything else, that would hurt much less than this does.

Jimin does what he knows he must.

Like most Jimin related things, you don’t notice what hoodie it is, don’t notice the frayed shoulder, and you most certainly don’t notice the boy who had come back for the hoodie backing away, quiet tears running down his face.

#bts #parkjimin #pjm #jiminangst #pjmangst #btsangst #jiminiesmagicshop #reader x jimin #pjmfics #btsfics #parkjiminangst #angst #best friend jimin

[pedroalonso]

it’s so funny to me how the fandom is so divided about palermo’s development there is no middle ground in any of the arguments i’ve seen so far

Martín has always been a divisive character from the start and I honestly love that for him. lmao. But yeah, In truth, I can’t scroll through the LCDP tag without seeing someone ranting about Palermo, either negatively or positively regarding his arc this season.

And after thinking about it for a while, I realize that a large chunk of people’s arguments (my own included) are deeply rooted in personal interpretation and biases. We all have our own takes on a character. We project either our likes or dislikes on them, depending on our own life experiences and beliefs. It’s not wrong to do so, it’s literally a normal thing humans do. To personalize a story in a way that resonates with them.

But at the end of the day, characters are not sentient beings. They are narrative tools to tell a story and move the plot forward. While we can get a gauge of the “basics” of a character from the stuff we are presented with in canon, we can never really be certain about “who they are” because they aren’t real. Their development is dependent on what kind of story is being told, and writers will always adjust their characters to fit the current narrative.

In terms of Volume 1, the writers have always hinted that they wanted to make the final season “an explosive one”, meaning they wanted to make it more action heavy. And looking back on it now, they succeeded in doing what they set out to do. The new season was like an action movie. Lots of gunfire. Explosions. It’s easy to brush it off as LCDP mimicking another Hollywood blockbuster to increase viewership, but I think it made sense. It showed us how dire their situation is in the bank. How much deep shit they were in that the military was willing to bomb the building and inadvertently kill hostages just to catch them. And the first volume ended with the MAIN CHARACTER getting killed off. Like the stakes were so high not even the goddamn narrator survived. The show is literally telling us how fucked things are for the band.

So with that said, the characters adjusted to this “action” movie vibe the writers wanted to go with. And I think they all acted accordingly. There was less conflict within the group because they worked together to beat a common enemy, setting aside their personal issues to get the job done and survive. And while it’s true that some character arcs (Palermo’s especially) had to be set aside, it was because they HAD to in order to move the plot forward. How much sense would it make if Martín kept raving on about the gold when the Bank was literally exploding around him? He’s a chaotic asshole, yeah. But give him more credit than that, he’s not an idiot. The gold can wait. He needs to survive NOW.

And again, narrative wise, who he is in Part 5 directly connects to his last scene in Part 4. He made a promise to do better and they followed it through in literally the first episode of Volume 1, where he’s shown to be more remorseful for his actions. If he just went back to being an angry asshole, it wouldn’t have made sense because otherwise, what was his last scene in Part 4 supposed to be for?? Just for funsies?? No, of course not. They were already foreshadowing where his arc was heading in Part 5.

And I know LCDP sucks at maintaining continuity. There are a lot of plotholes that haven’t been addressed because they probably forgot about it or deemed it unnecessary. (Like me, for example, wondering if Martín knows it was Helsinki who blew up the tunnel that resulted in Andrés death??? Like I want that angst PLEASE).

But, hear me out. What LCDP fails in continuity, they make up for emotional terrorism. Not only are they more than capable of killing off likable characters (NAAAAIROBI), they are also very good at making unlikeable characters… not always loveable. But understandable, in a way. More empathetic. For example: Berlin was 100% a disgusting dipshit in the Mint, yes, but in the end when he sacrifices himself to save the gang and you find out he and the Professor were brothers this whole time? That was a twist. Maybe you didn’t end up liking Berlin, but you felt pain for Sergio for losing someone so obviously dear to him. They made you feel sorry for seeing this asshole go.

Which brings me to my final point. Characters are used to convey a theme. What do they represent in the story? Berlin’s thematic arc in the first two seasons, for example, was him going from a villain to an anti-hero. From the moment we find out about his terminal illness, we knew he was going to die either way. You can see him grappling with his mortality — about the inevitability of his death. And it seemed like he was planning to live out his last remaining years being an asshole surrounded by a shitload of money, until he ultimately dies from his illness.

But then, he sacrifices himself. Not only does he escape the “humiliating” decline that was to befall him when he escapes, he also gave meaning to his death. He, the heartless evil bastard, made himself the hero in the end. How rude!

So, when it comes to Martín, we have to think: What is his purpose in this story? What is the theme he’s trying to convey? Is it the tragedy of an unrequited love? Or is it learning to let it go?

Because looking back in episode two of Part 3, Sergio recruits Martín in a dirty flat in Palermo, littered with empty liquor bottles and Martín himself looking like a mess. When he broaches the topic of the heist, Martín can barely mention Andrés without his voice cracking. And when he and Sergio do discuss Andrés, he screams and gets angry and cries. He was obviously still mourning Andrés, who at this point, died FIVE YEARS AGO. That is not… a normal grieving period. May it be due to the lack of a support system after Andrés’s death (since I doubt Sergio visited), or the lack of real closure between him and Andrés, or something else, the point is… Martín Berrote was not okay. He was still clinging to Andrés in some way. Still unable to move on.

So when Sergio proposes to do the Bank of Spain heist and Martín accepts, his thematic arc began. He is introduced as Andrés’s long suffering best friend who was in love with him for years until he was eventually discarded. A lot of his moments in the show discuss and convey this dynamic. From him telling Sergio he loved the plan as much as he loved Andrés, to Nairobi confronting him about Berlin, to Martín himself telling Helsinki how Andrés leaving him made him the “asshole” he is today.

His theme is not just about his love for Andrés, but his grief and suffering because of it. Where the show will eventually take it is still debate-able, and we’ll have to wait for Volume 2 for that. But viewing Martín’s whole arc in this way, through the scenes they chose to put about him, and the way they connect it to the main plot — his development this season did not come out of the blue. It made logical and narrative sense. It all connects! This was the kind of story they wanted for him from the start.

#asks #lcdp #looks at my own post: i aint reading all that #long post #i’m on mobile IDK HOW TO DO THE READ MORE OPTION ON MOBILE #lcdp spoilers

[hilli98215]

I am confused. I am hurt. I don’t know what to think. This is a long post. A very long post that is personal but I’ve had it in my head for a while to write. You don’t have to read this. This post has no real meaning. It’s more of a rant of how I feel in the world of fandom, my experiences, and why this posts exists. 

Again, you do not have to read this. 

You have been warned.

DO NOT REBLOG THIS POST!!!! 

When I became an English major in college, I did so knowing several things. One of those is the fact I love literature and I love discovering why authors, creators, and artists wrote what became their most well known work.

Where am I going?

My first fandom was when I was in Junior High (about 13-14 years old) that I was a part of, meaning I read fan fiction and discovered fan art of, was either Naruto or Pokémon. To me these works were escapes of my real confusing life. Especially when I moved states and schools. I had no one. Through this, I discovered what I liked and didn’t like in the world of fiction and was introduced to fandom words/slang such as shipping, fan fiction, lemons (which I don’t think is used as often now), different types of writing, yaoi, yuri, and a few more I can’t remember. This also included the all important phrase Don’t like don’t read. This was when I was in my early teens. 

But I was in a phase where I could find what I found interesting and that was that. 

When I got to high school, I was still this awkward quiet kid with no friends. But I did have marching band so that was something. 

At this point was was interested in Ouran Highschool Host Club, Death Note, a series called Beauty Pop, Fullmetal Alchemist, and a few others. This was also around the time where I began writing fanfiction for OHSC and even began buying manga. Anyway, this was my introduction to fandom as a teenager. And this is before Tumblr.

All I had were my friends, videos on YouTube, and my own interests. No one really understood why I loved all these things. 

Then came the very first fandom I became fully obsessed in my sophomore year: a small series called Hetalia Axis Powers. I was completely invested in this fandom. So much so I wrote fan fiction, bought merch, and read a lot of fan fiction myself. I think it was because, at the time I thought it was because the art style was cute, the voice acting wasn’t half bad and it had to do with history. But this is where things got interesting for me and learning about fandom as a whole. 

As a teen, I hadn’t known about AUs and this series had a lot of them. From the usual school AUs to odd ones. I usually stayed in my bubble and kept up the mantra Don’t like Don’t read. 

But why talk about it?

Well, let’s just say a lot of the content later on became weird and new. I learned a lot about new terms like de-aging and ABO. But this leads to interest which once again let me know what genres of fan fiction I like. 

I continued on with this fandom for about 3 years. And what broke it was the drama and how people were finding a sudden moral compass for personified countries. I mean there are other problems with that show that I recognize now as an adult and didn't see as a kid but that’s for another time. But I quietly left because I was beginning to understand that the drama wasn’t worth a tv show.

I would say the next fandom I was invested in and loved and I think had the least amount of drama was Fairy Tail. Now I fell in love with this series because of the story, characters, and the welcoming fandom. Overall there was rarely any drama because I think we all knew that we had to be civil with each other and respect our ships. While I’m not part of that fandom anymore a lot of people on Tumblr and FFN were very welcoming. The main series kinda fizzled out but that was one of the few positive fandom experiences I had.

I was at that point in my life where I was in college, created my Tumblr and posted regularly to escape life. 

Coming off that fandom, I was part of the Yuri on Ice! fandom from beginning to the end. I mean it’s a sports anime that’s about men's figure skating and how it can affect athletes just to get a gist of it.

That’s when my experience with fandom became interesting because these characters were being paired in a way that made me feel like they can’t be paired with anyone else. Like, there was a pairing we were all cheering for to happen by the end. 

This is the first series I was highly interested in as an adult where the ages of the characters were defined. There were a few in their teens, some in their early to mid 20s, and a couple in their 30s. Now this was a historic anime for several reasons. The main being there being a gay relationship being shown in a positive light and mental illness being shown in a way that wasn’t patronizing and negative. I loved this show for those reasons. But I also quickly learned how people would take these characters (especially those with huge age differences) and pair them up. That was my first introduction to criticism of how ‘gross’ it would be for a 15 year old to be paired up with an 18 year old. But I saw a problem that made me second guess my thinking. When I was in high school, I knew someone who was a sophomore at 15 and dated someone who was 18. Why was there a problem? 

I knew if I voiced this that I would be shamed and told that I was disgusting. Eventually I had enough and left shortly after the series ended.

Then came the Voltron: Legendary Defender series. Oh boy.

Now that series came out while I was in college and I often viewed it in a critical perspective similar to one would a piece of literature because my major was in English and that was what I was taught. Like YOI I was part of this fandom day 1 because it was so different from the original Voltron series from the 80s. I loved how the fandom dissected everything in every episode. There were watch parties, analysis videos, and even skits at conventions. It was a fandom I knew I wanted to be a part of. But then there was fanfiction that I found odd and knew that I never wanted to read that. People were writing about topics that made me uncomfortable and I didn’t know how to deal with it. After a while, I questioned why I was forcing myself to read them in the first place. So, I stopped reading them. This was also around the time where I discovered AO3 and their amazing tagging system. Because if the tagging system was not there, I probably would have stopped reading fanfiction all together.

But then there was drama, shipping wars, morality wars, and I had enough. I was there until it ended and left quietly. Which is sad considering I loved the experience but it was ruined by what people thought was right for fictional characters. 

Now you may be asking “What was the point of this post?”

To answer your question, I don’t know.

I have loved reading since I was a kid. And when I got to high school, I had this AP teacher who told us something that has stayed with me to this day.

‘As a reader we are detectives. We want to know why the author wrote this book. We want to know what influenced them.’

I took that saying to heart and approach everything through a critical lens. Which is difficult in a fandom. It’s hard to have a critical approach to a series that everyone takes for a grain of salt.

I have been exposed to a lot of books and pieces of literature that have been considered controversial because of their content. When I left high school, I began to realize what genres of books I like in the YA genre and in literature. 

I experimented.

And when you think about it, that’s what you do with fan fiction and fandom. We are always experimenting. We are always finding what we like and don’t like. 

But recently I’ve noticed a new fandom term that makes me wonder where I fall in all of this craziness we call fandom. 

Pro-Fiction/Pro-Shipper

It wasn’t until last year I saw this word thrown around in a new fandom I am in. I tried to do some research but I couldn't find anything. Nothing. And then I learned it’s a new term in itself.

I won’t go into detail but it reminds of the ‘video games are violent so that makes so-and-so violent’ argument parents made when Mortal Kombat came out. 

Well you still didn’t answer the question.

And you’d be right. I saw a post from a follower that saddened me and honestly freaked me out. Why announce that you hate a specific group? It felt like a call out post without saying any names. A warning that states: Block me or out yourself. Or rather: Block me or else.

Do I identify as this? To tell you the truth, I don’t know. I think critically and see things differently. In fact everyone does. 

We are always going to be influenced by the media whether it be a movie, television, a book, or a video game. We will always love these storylines and characters. We will always take the messages to heart. We will always cheer for the hero and maybe the villain too. 

I do want you guys to remember this, make your own fandom experience. Block those who make you feel uncomfortable and make you feel like you don’t matter. You do.

You are your own person. No one can tell you otherwise. If you feel uncomfortable, then maybe you need to leave the fandom. Or find a space in the fandom that you can be yourself. Or don’t care what people think and do what you always do.

It’s all up to you.

#rant #long post #sorry for those who decided to read this #i just cant stay silent anymore #fandom #fandom toxicity #fandom discourse #fan fiction #personal #i mean #this is getting out of hand #where do i fall in all of this

[werevulvi]

I kinda just wanted to make a rant, to lay out why I feel so iffy about trans women and hopefully get a better understanding of my own feelings and what the fuck is brewing under that surface. There has to be a reason. This post is analytical drivel, not a debate, but by all means, feel free to respond or otherwise talk to me about this. Let's take it from the beginning and then go from there.

Part 1 Detransition:

So, I began detransitioning roughly 2 years ago. That's where my feelings about the trans community as a whole began to shift, and with that my feelings about trans women. At that time, I was still active in a truscum group and came out as detrans there, after having been known and looked up to as a trans man there for over a year. At first I was accepted, but when I started having doubts about wanting to get rid of my beard, and felt like I wanted to embrace my body hair and deep voice... people there started acting like shit towards me. They told me that my biological sex still being female did not matter, that I was essentially a man and had to detrans medically to be considered a woman again. That hurt badly.

Shortly after that, I was also told that because I was medically transitioned, trans women were "more female" than me. That was like the last drop that made the goblet pour over. Fuming, I started saying that I'm more of a woman than trans women can ever be, even if I keep a full beard, because they'll never be truly biologically female, no matter how much surgery they got. I was hurting by their cruel words, so I stuck it where it would hurt them the same. (I’ve always an “eye for an eye” sorta person.) That's when people started telling me that I hate trans women, but I felt like that was a misunderstanding. That I was just acting out, out of sadness, grief, anger, panic, and having my gender denied for the sake of validating trans women's genders.

But were they right?

Part 2 Gender critical thought:

Over time, I got exceedingly gender critical and fell into radblr. I also read/watched content that "exposed" transgenderism as a scam, most of which was articles and youtube videos from conservative right wing people, and Christians. I had joined an fb group for detransitioners, and the creator, a "born again" Christian detrans man, happily shared all the many sources he had on how transgender was all a scam from the start of its movement. I felt somewhat sick consuming those links, but probably equally intrigued. But at the same time, I kept a foot in the trans community, starving for attention, even though I was never good enough for them anymore, unless I lied and said I'm not a woman. What a sick twist of fate, I felt.

Part 3a Sexuality, from a lesbian view:

Sometime around that, I struggled with my sexuality and after a lot on inner search, I came to the conclusion I was a lesbian. I felt as though I was only attracted to the same sex as myself, including trans men, but felt nothing worth praising towards males, including trans women. That led to yet another rabbit hole that I tumbled down into. I became convinced that majority of trans women were lesbophobic predators, and I had some shit luck on dating apps. Most people who approached me there were gnc males; transvestites and trans women. I almost went on a date with a good-looking trans woman whom I had mistaken for female, because I felt guilty for having lost attraction to her the moment she told me she's trans and post-op. Luckily she canceled our date for unrelated reasons. I felt like because she was attractive to me before I knew she's trans, but felt completely uninterested in her after the fact, I couldn't possibly be attracted to trans women.

Part 3b Sexuality, from a bisexual view:

That, of course, is not necessarily a bad thing. But I kept asking myself why. Especially since I realised my error in my sexuality calculations, and upon correction discovered I'm actually bisexual after all. I still find women and transitioned females attractive, and in addition to that also men in general, and some vaguely transitioned males. Except from trans women. That odd little inconvenience stood out as a sore thumb which I couldn't stop scratching. Why? I kept asking myself. Why not trans women?

My question dug deeper than just to attraction. I don't think I feel iffy about trans women because I'm not attracted to them. I think it's the other way around.

I never had to convince myself to be attracted to trans men. I discovered early on in my own transition that some other trans men were really hot. That was it. I later on dated a trans man whom I was head over heals in love with. That confirmed it. I've been questioning my attraction to standard men and women far more than I ever questioned my attraction to trans men. It was that obvious, that clear. However, when it comes to trans women I was always the complete opposite. That no matter how I twisted and turned it, I only ever felt revulsion at the thought of being sexual or romantic with a trans woman. No matter how well or badly they passed, no matter how aesthetically pleasing or how charming their personalities.

I wanna clarify that I'm not at all forcing myself to be into trans women. I'm just trying to understand why, so that I'll no longer feel bad about my lack of attraction to them. Because I cannot accept things which I do not understand.

Part 3c Sexuality, digging for answers:

At first I thought, maybe I'm just not all that attracted to femininity. It's not like I typically get super into hyper-feminine natal women either, and fake tits and faces with a ton of plastic surgery has always made me queezy. No, I seem to have a strong preference for masculinity in partners, regardless if they're butches, other masc bi women, trans men or kinda standard masc natal men. So then it just kinda makes sense that trans women, whom are often hyper-feminine, just don't fit that image. Except... that one trans woman I almost went on a date with... she looked like a butch. I mistook her for a natal woman partly because she had short hair, no makeup and wore what looked like men's clothing, but I could see she had hips and tits, and her face looked naturally female. But I still wasn't into her, because she's trans.

Then I thought... okay, that one checks out, but maybe I'm just creeped out neo-vaginas? Yeah, that must be it! I'm almost equally creeped out by neo-penises too, but most trans men don't get bottom surgery anyway, so it hasn't been much on my mind. But then I thought: okay, but what about trans women who choose to not get bottom surgery then? I am attracted to dick. Nope, still uneasy at that thought. I started comparing men who are just very feminine, to trans women, and noticed yeah I don't actually feel half as iffy about men who are just feminine. A man in a dress and makeup can actually be very hot, to me. And I've always preferred long hair on men. But I prefer them still looking clearly male underneath that, although I don't mind a few androgynous features here and there. But I’m only into it if they don’t act like their affinity for femininity makes them women or non-binary, or if they’re feminine in a way that mocks or sexualises womanhood. So I’m not into tacky transvestites in over-sexualised lingerie. At least try to be tactful and elegant, please. So, it’s not male femininity per se that puts me off. If there’s any femininity I’m actually into, it’s male femininity. Because gender non-conformity is attractive to me. And I love the idea of being a strong female protector and girlboss of a gentle, delicate, feminine man. At least I like fantasising about that. (But enough about my daydreams.)

Part 4a Womanhood, biology and identity:

Somewhere after having gotten that far in my digging, I started getting close to finding my sore spot: trans women's view on womanhood.

As for myself, my own view of womanhood is completely detached from femininity. I'm just like... I can even have a full beard and bass voice, a flat and hairy chest, and still be a woman. Because I'm simply bio female. Trans women tend to very often think that they need to "pass" and with that comes a certain look: high voice, no facial hair, no body hair, big breasts, curvy hips, etc. All of which are features that I'm dysphoric about having on my own body, but admire in other natal women. But on trans women, it's like I feel uncomfortable about those kinda features on them. Like to me being a woman is just dealing with having developed that way, or not dealing with having developed that way. Where as for them it seems to be actually striving for developing that way, and I guess that causes my brain to short circuit. Cannot comprehend.

Part 4b Womanhood, fragility and validation:

My womanhood is kinda fragile. I admit that. I'm quite insecure as a woman, because of my transition and masculinity. I feel like most of my womanhood has been lost, which although I'm fine with, I still grieve. I grieve it because I was a bit of an idiot when I first transitioned and had not yet processed my trauma - not because I regret looking like a man. It's complicated, but basically... I feel as though my womanhood is hanging by a thread, which is my genitals, reproductive system and chromosomes; all of which are either mostly hidden or always invisible.

I'm often met with disbelief and disagreement. People either saying "You're not a woman because you can't possibly be female. You look too male." or "You're not a woman because you medically transitioned. You having a uterus is not enough to make you a woman." and it gets to me. And then there are trans women... some of whom do not even need to put on a wig to be instantly validated as women by just identifying as such. Others thinking that because I look like a man, they refuse to think of me as a woman. And that... pisses me off.

There have been a few trans women who in some utterly failed attempt at being supportive of me have said I'm like a nonbinary person who is half male and half female. That's not a lot better, but thanks for trying... I guess.

Part 4c Womanhood, dysphoria and misogyny:

I think that might be what gets to me about trans women. All of it. This entire list of things. That some of them are lesbophobic predators and have absurd claims of what being female is, that others mock womanhood, and yet others view themselves as somehow more female than I am. The genital factor and the slight creepiness of plastic surgery. Their view of womanhood as an identity and my view of it as a biological sex. I keep ending up in fights with trans women about these sorta things. I can't keep a lid on my frustrations no matter how hard I try to just see them as people with dysphoria and opinions that are different from mine. I cannot find any fucking solidarity between myself, as a dysphoric natal woman, and trans women. I feel like they're making mockery of my sex, my dysphoria and my struggles with misogyny, as well as making me feel like shit about something that I love about my body: my transition. I have no common grounds with them, and whenever they try to find solidarity in stuff like misogyny, I feel like they don't even know what the fuck they're talking about. I have a huge bone to pick with them, on multiple levels, and I don't even know where to start or where it ends.

Part 4d Womanhood, jealousy:

But a lot of it comes from jealousy. And I think it's mutual. I'm jealous of their ability to access female only spaces despite being male, which I cannot access despite being female. I'm jealous of their ability to be accepted as women. And on the other side, I think they're jealous of my reproductive ability, and my female socialisation, which I'm not like super hyped about myself, although I do love my pussy (she gives me great orgasms.) I'm jealous of their ability to claim womanhood without even trying to pass as female, because people are quicker to accept the woman-gender-identity than the woman-bio-sex. But likewise, ironically, I sense that they're jealous of that I can claim the "woman lane" despite looking convincingly male, because I'll always be biologically female, no matter how insible my sex is.

They cannot see me as a woman, because of my transition, without looking at themselves as men, no matter how far they transition. And I cannot see them as women, no matter how far they transition, without labeling myself as a man, because of my own transition. I think that about nails it.

Part 5 Conclusions:

I don't think it's true hatred, but rather insecurities both from myself and from them. Because we cannot both exist as women under the same ideology. One of us has to be considered a man, and neither of us is willing to fold on that. Ultimately... I am a threat to their womanhood, as much as they are a threat to my womanhood. And that tension is so thick... not even a knife could cut it. I guess the sad thing is though, that I think that tension is unnecessary. I am so unlike trans women that we could potentially bond based on how different we are. Because there is a lot of similarity in those differences, if you really think about it.

But no, I do not wish them harm in any way. Despite the vast array of insults I sometimes hurl their way. That is really just in response to them insulting me. I do not think they're doing anything wrong by transitioning, or even necessarily by identifying as women. I think, if they had just been more like "I can see you as a woman despite having transitioned, because deep down you like being female and having a pussy... kinda like I'm a woman because I wanna have a pussy, despite having been born male" I would have been much quicker to embrace them. Because that, I could get behind; but they can't.

So, there is no solidarity. It remains an endless fight. But I feel like it's not just on my part. I have tried. I do try. But they're not willing to meet me halfway, and that makes me go to attack in self-defense, which makes then go to attack in self-defense.

#my stick up my arse about trans women #its hurt not hate #rant #analytical drivel #gender critical #radfem safe #detransition

[calligraphist-artemisia]

Souls in the Machine

Summary: Pidge and Keith go on a mission together and (as usual) things don’t go according to plan. One injury and a crashed ship later, Pidge confronts Keith about a problem she’s noticed since he joined the Blade of Marmora.

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune

-

I guess for this years Kidgeweek I’m just going to freestyle it and finish up a few one-shots that I’ve been working on. I won’t have something to post every day, but it’s a good incentive to finish up these fics that are just sitting around half-finished. Maybe it’ll get me out of my writing slump.

The title is the Goo Goo Dolls song “Souls in the Machine”.

------

Souls in the Machine

Just for once, Keith would like it if things went according to plan.

When Kolivan assigned them the mission, it sounded like a simple thing. They would sneak in, hack into a terminal and obtain the information they needed, and get out. The entire thing would take fifteen doboshes at most and then they'd be soaring away back to the meeting point Kolivan set up, where they would hand over the intel and go their separate ways. Kolivan was so confident that everything would go right that he was willing to risk the life of one of the paladins, who had the skills needed for such a mission.

It was a shame that Keith was so bad at all covert missions.

He glanced over at Pidge, who was a little bruised after their rough landing but was otherwise fine. She was in the act of ripping out the wires she needed to build a communication array that was powerful enough to get a signal to the Castle of Lions, hopefully without alerting the Galra to their location. She already had the pieces of the comm system that he helped her break away from the dashboard of their dead ship and just needed a few more parts to get started.

While he hated that she'd been put in danger, Keith was glad she was there with him. Pidge was one of the most adaptable people he knew, able to adjust her plans on the fly to come out on top, and smart enough to make the best out of whatever situation she ended up in.

Pidge gave a triumphant cry as she yanked a handful of wires free.

“Are you sure you don't need a hand?” Keith asked, watching in concern as the panel sparked violently.

Pidge got away without getting zapped, though she did appear surprised by how loudly the spark cracked through the air. “Thanks, but this should be all I need. Now it's just a matter of putting it all together and hoping it works. Not much you can do with your arm like that anyway.”

Keith glanced down at his make-shift sling and bandages. He got hit by one of the Galra blasters while protecting Pidge and even though it meant his arm would be next to useless until it healed, he still thought it was worth it to keep her safe.

“You know we'll have to talk about it at some point. You shouldn't have jumped in front of me like that,” Pidge said as she sat down next to her pile of parts. She set aside the wire and began picking through for the pieces she needed first.

Keith frowned. “I did what I needed to keep you safe. I'm expendable, but you aren't.”

Pidge suddenly looked furious. “You- Excuse me?!” She demanded, glaring at him. Her hair seemed to puff up in a display of her rage. “Keith, you can't really think that!”

“Pidge, you are a paladin of Voltron,” he said firmly, refusing to back down.

“So are you!”

“Not anymore.”

Pidge opened her mouth but no sound came out. She struggled for a moment to find her words before giving up and noisily exhaling.

Keith thought the conversation was over when Pidge looked away and turned back to her work. She laid her tool-belt across one knee, sliding out each device as she needed it and replacing it once she was done. Beneath her skilled hands the piece of tech began to take shape.

He relaxed and watched her methodically attach circuit boards and wires inside of the box she build out of metal scrap, like some sort of technologically advanced MacGyver. He didn't have the first clue how any of it worked but he knew that Pidge would manage it. She always did. He'd heard all about her time in the junkyard and how she build a satellite capable of puncturing through a black hole to get a signal through to the Castle of Lions, which not only allowed the Castle to escape from said black hole, but was also able to track down all of the Lions across space so they could rescue them and their paladins.

Pidge stopped working.

She scowled hard at the box in her hands and then set it down on the ground. Her tool-belt soon joined it.

“Pidge?” he asked, feeling worried by the change. Was something wrong? Did she not have the right parts?

Pidge turned to face him and her expression was so fierce that Keith nearly took a step back. He swayed instead, fighting to stand his ground in face of her unexpected ire.

“You,” she began to speak, but her voice wavered hard as her lower lip trembled. She stopped and looked down, took a deep breath, and something in her expression broke as she raised her eyes back to his. A sadness that shook Keith to his core. “You are not expendable, Keith. Never. No, just listen!”

Keith snapped his mouth shut. He'd been about to explain why she was wrong, but from the sound of things she was working herself up into an unstoppable rant.

“It doesn't matter if you're working with the Blade of Marmora right now, that doesn't stop you from continuing to be a paladin. The Black Lion let you pilot her even before we lost Shiro and if that doesn't tell you how not expendable you are, I don't know what does!” Pidge threw up her hands and then stood up so she no longer had to crane her head back to meet his eyes. “And did you even stop and consider what sort of situation you'd leave me in if you got injured? I'm not nearly strong enough to carry you out of danger when you get hurt! And if the next words out of your mouth are to suggest that I should just leave you there, you had better rethink that, because I will never abandon a friend when they're in trouble.

“I don't care what bullshit Kolivan and the Blade have been teaching you, but your life is worth so much, Keith. You... you're important to me. To Shiro. To all of us. I – We would never forgive ourselves if we stood back and let something happen to you.”

Between Pidge's unexpected swear and the mention of Shiro, Keith was jarred enough that he could almost start to see the point she was making. Despite that he set his jaw, unwilling to back down. “I'm not going to just stand back and let you get hurt either. If I can do something to help, even if it means putting myself at risk, then I'm going to do it.”

“It's not worth getting yourself killed over!”

“I'm not trying to get myself killed!”

“I know about Naxzela, Keith. Matt told me.”

Keith guiltily averted his gaze and swallowed hard. He tried not to think of that day. They had nearly lost everything they worked so hard for from that single mission. He still had nightmares about it. He should have known that Matt wouldn't be able to stay quiet about everything that happened, especially with Pidge.

Pidge crossed her arms over her chest, but when she spoke again, her voice was much softer and less accusatory. “Talk to me? I just want to understand what's going on with you. Why did you try to do it?”

He breathed out and closed his eyes, reminding himself to keep his temper under control. If Pidge could manage to calm herself down and speak in a reasonable tone, then so could he.

“I didn't know what else to do,” he admitted. “Everything was going so well and then suddenly it wasn't. We tried everything to punch through the shield, but none of our weapons were strong enough to get through. I thought if I... If there was a strong enough blast it would weaken the shield and then the rebels could concentrate fire on that spot. If it meant saving you guys then it would be worth it.”

“Keith...”

“What would you have done?” he asked, forcing himself to meet her eyes again. “If you were in my place and knew that if you didn't take down that shield, then everyone you cared about would die. All of you were going to die, Pidge, along with the coalition and all of those other people. Who would have been left to fight the Galra then?”

Pidge didn't have an answer for that. He could tell by the way she dropped her gaze to the ground and fidgeted, her words failing her for a second time.

Keith took no pride in rendering her speechless.

“I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do,” he told her and felt some alarm when she sniffled quietly. It was the only warning he got before Pidge scurried over and wrapped her arms around him, holding on tightly. He had the fleeting thought that she was so tiny for someone so fierce and smart and brave.

When it became apparent that Pidge wasn't letting go anytime soon, Keith returned her hug and felt her relax against him. They held onto one another, weaving the frayed ends of their bond into something stronger, and when Pidge pulled away after several minutes to and mumbled about getting back to work on the communication array, Keith's heart felt lighter than before.

He sat down next to her and helped out in whatever way he could, which mainly involved holding things steady so she could make sure all of the little pieces were correctly placed. Once it was finished and the distress signal was broadcasting, Pidge leaned against Keith with a soft sigh.

“I'm glad you're here,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

Keith stretched an arm across her shoulders so he could support her better. “Me too.”

Pidge smiled.

There was nothing else to say.

#voltron #kidge #kidgemas #fanfiction #I guess it's more platonic kidge than romantic #both are good #hi guess who's still not over Naxzela #it's me #I'm still not over Naxzela #this time I'm trying to see things from Keith's perspective

[nekojitachan]

How to Steal a Million (part 4?)

I think it’s part 4. We’re going with part 4

Find previous part here

This is really along the ratings of ‘T’. Mentions of forgery, stealing, threats of bodily harm (it IS Neil and Andrew, after all) but nothing serious. Lots of snark.

*******

Neil pressed against one of the doorways which led into the main gallery of the Kleber-Lafayette Museum, where the Cellini Venus was currently on display; he’d heard so much talk about it at the party he’d attended with Allison that he couldn’t resist coming to see the exhibit. After a minute of surveilling the room (checking the exits, any signs of cameras, the position of the guards, etc.) he stepped away the room… only to bump into someone a moment later due to the crowd of people.

Only to bump into L.A.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Neil hissed as he recoiled in surprise (and forced himself not to pull a knife).

“Huh, funny how we only meet under the most ‘artistic’ of circumstances’,” L.A. remarked as he gestured to the artworks hung on the walls around them, his deep voice sarcastic yet expression impassive; he was dressed in black pants and a black dress shirt which actually looked expensive and showed off his muscular build.

“Funny how I always feel the urge to stab you when we meet,” Neil muttered as he smoothed down the front of his dark blue jumper; Allison had dressed him before he’d left her house that day, so at least he appeared presentable.

Why did he suddenly care if he appeared presentable?

There was the tiniest twitch to the left corner of L.A’s mouth before he stepped forward. “You might want to look into that.” While Neil glared at the asshole’s back, the American nodded toward the crowd. “Lot of people here to see your statue, seems it’s famous.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Neil accused the man as he reconsidered the whole ‘no stabbing’ thing.

L.A. held up his hands and shook his head. “I’m off duty at the moment. What about you?”

Before Neil could question why the asshole had asked that, someone called out his name; he turned with a fake smile and nodded to Aldritch, who held out his hand to be shook.

“I’m fine, how are you?” he asked in return, then motioned to L.A. “Uhm, Monsieur Aldritch, the director of the museum and….” Well, he couldn’t exactly say ‘Larcenous Asshole, semi-decent thief’, could he?

“Minyard,” L.A. said without missing a beat as he gave Aldritch’s extended hand a very brief shake. “Josten and I are old friends, we used to spar together.” He leaned in as if to share a secret. “I usually won,” he said in a mock whisper.

While Neil glared at the asshole and Aldritch chuckled, L.A. continued. “Beautiful exhibit you have here, lots of valuable things.”

“Oh yes,” Aldritch agreed as he turned to Neil. “Please notice all of the security precautions we’ve taken with your family’s statue.” Then he turned back to L.A., who somehow managed a semi-interested expression on his usually impassive face. “Are you interested in art, Mr. Minyard?” When L.A. nodded, Aldritch smiled. “And are you interested in security?” the middle-aged man asked.

“Oh yes, very much so,” Minyard assured him while Neil wondered if there was a suitable place to hide the asshole’s body (after it was perforated to his heart’s content).

“Wonderful, let me show the two of you around.” Aldritch didn’t wait for their agreement before he walked away; since L.A. followed, Neil gritted his teeth together and did the same.

Aldritch headed straight for the Cellini Venus; L.A. made a mocking bow then held out his left arm in a clear sign for Neil to take it. At first he was about to ignore it, then Neil ‘smiled’ and accepted it, just so he could ram his elbow into the bastard’s ribs.

L.A. stumbled but otherwise remained on his feet and didn’t make a sound, but gave Neil a narrow look as they reached the pedestal which housed the Cellini Venus. Aldritch, oblivious to what had just happened, smiled at them and motioned to the blue lights which circled the base of the pedestal. “These are infrared beams which surround the Venus.” When L.A., acting like a proper idiot, went to touch the Venus, Aldritch gasped and swatted at his hand. “No, don’t touch it! That will trigger an alarm if the beams are broken, it’s an E.E.D.A. system.”

“That’s so impressive.” L.A. somehow managed to put a little emotion in his voice while Neil fought not to roll his eyes over what was really a common security protocol. “What happens if a thief somehow manages to turn off the system?”

“No, not possible,” Aldritch insisted with a slight frown. “There’s guards here all the time, and only myself and two other people can disable the system. We have back-up generators in case there’s a power outage, and it’s offline to prevent anyone from hacking into it.”

“Amazing,” L.A. drawled. “You’ve truly thought of everything.”

“Yes, I feel that my family’s statue is in perfectly safe hands,” Neil said with a slight inclination of his head. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve an appointment I can’t be late for.”

“Oh, of course! I’m pleased you were able to stop by.” Aldritch wished him well, and somehow Neil wasn’t surprised when L.A. followed him out of the museum.

“Look, stay the hell away from this place or I’ll report you to the cops, whoever you are,” he insisted as he went over to where he’d parked the MG. “Go find something else to ‘liberate’.”

“Minyard, Andrew Minyard,” L.A. said with an offending sniff. “It’s like you don’t trust me or something.”

“Might have something to do with you breaking into my house,” Neil muttered as he climbed into the MG.

“That was us meeting cute.”

Neil stared at the insane American for a couple seconds before he shook his head. “Do me a favor?”

“Hmm?” Despite Andrew’s (was that his real name?) curious tone, there was a hint of wariness in his hazel eyes.

“Stand in front of my car,” Neil asked as he motioned at the hood of the MG.

“Why?” Now there definitely was a gleam of wariness in Andrew’s eyes.

“So I can run you over and not have to worry about you bothering me anymore.”

The American radiated disapproval as he crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “As much as I find this flirting routine somewhat amusing, I need to talk to you about-“

Once Neil heard the ‘f’ word, he started the car’s engine then took off, unfortunately without hitting the asshole.

*******

Andrew collapsed on the bed in Kevin’s hotel room and sighed.

“If you’re about to rant about the coffee again, I don’t want to hear it,” Kevin said as he henpecked at the keyboard, his attention focused on the monitor.

“As if you’re bundle of joy until you get a few shots of espresso in you,” Andrew muttered while he scrubbed at his face with the palms of his hands.

“I don’t need ten spoonfuls of sugar and a pint of milk to go along with them,” Kevin argued before he turned to look at Andrew. “Now tell me you did something today other than haunt several bakeries.”

“Fuck you.” Andrew gave his partner the finger as he sat up. “Only two bakeries today, and yes, I did.” When Kevin gave him an expectant look, he rolled his eyes. “I talked to one Bernard Grammont, who is certain that Stuart Josten is a forger though he lacks any concrete proof. Also, I ran into Neil Josten again, who was checking out the display at the Kleber-Lafayette Museum.” He did his best not to wince as he felt a twinge in his ribs from where the sneaky bastard had hit him. “Didn’t seem to want to run into anyone there, which was rather odd.”

“Hmm, it does seem suspicious, but remember we’re not being paid to prove anything with Josten, at least not yet.”

Grammont would have hired Andrew to investigate Josten… but for some reason he didn’t want to work for the man. Maybe there was something to Renee warning him about the family… or maybe the game he’d started with Neil Josten would be ruined if money was involved.

Whatever the reason, for once Andrew found himself interested in something other than cracking a case or catching a bad guy. The more he interacted with Neil Josten, the more he couldn’t stop thinking about the enigmatic young man with the pale blue eyes and sharp tongue.

He’d most likely be disappointed once he got to the bottom of the mystery, but until then… until then he’d let things play out as a rare break from boredom. What could it cost him? Other than some bruises and a bit of blood loss, that was.

He might want to stop by the nearest pharmacy the next time he was out.

*******

Neil took a sip of the red wine he’d barely drank all night and managed one of his ‘fake’ smiles everyone except those who knew him (a rare few) fell for. “It’s a very nice wine.”

Riko grinned and tapped a finger against the base of his own wine glass. “My family owns the vineyard.”

“Oh really?” Neil managed to look impressed by that declaration, even though he knew very well what all the Moriyamas owned (and that the Hatfords owned a vineyard or two as well). “But it doesn’t have the Moriyama name on it.”

“It’s under one of our subsidiary holdings,” Riko explained, as if he held any real power when it came to the Stone Mountain corporation.

“It’s always good to diversify.” Or so Neil had been told – that’s why Stuart did his art forgery thing, Uncle Will and Henry oversaw the main business, Jamie was expanding into online money laundering and had offered for Neil to help (something he was considering, if he could extract Stuart out of this most recent mess), and Ally… eh, Ally was Ally.

Riko beamed at Neil as if he was a pet which had done a particularly clever trick. “See, you’re different from the others, I can be myself with you and not have to talk about silly stuff.”

No, not really; Riko hadn’t started screaming and throwing a temper tantrum yet, which was his ‘real self’ by all accounts, but Neil merely ‘smiled’ and had another minute sip of the wine (which was so-so) while Riko rambled on (more like bragged) about how rich and powerful his family was. All the while, Neil glanced around to make sure that Matt and Dan were seated on the other side of the room, his ‘back-up’ for the night.

As soon as Riko paused for breath, Neil ‘smiled’ and poured him more wine. “I’ve a feeling that there’s something you’re holding back.” When Riko stared at him in interest, he tilted his head to the side. “Something… something to do with my uncle, perhaps?”

He knew that Riko had bought a painting from Stuart a few years ago, and was renowned for his own collection; the Moriyamas were famous patrons of the arts, and Riko had believed himself to be something of an artist while growing up – him and his foster brother, Kevin Day. From what Stuart had told Neil, Kevin was the one with the real talent, but there had been some sort of accident which had left the young man unable to paint anymore, and Riko had eventually gone to work for his uncle, Tetsuji.

Yet Riko had said nothing to Neil when they’d met at the party the other night, had done his best to flirt with Neil until he’d agreed to a date. That behavior had made Neil suspicious as hell, made him want to figure out what was going on with a scumbag like Riko Moriyama.

Well, and it was always nice to get on Renee’s good side, which would happen if he and Allison could figure out some way to get Riko in trouble while helping out the man’s assistant, Jean Moreau, whom Renee had somehow befriended….

Riko appeared startled for a moment, and then tried some sort of shy act which Neil could see through with ease. “Well… to be honest… yes, there is something I wanted to talk to you about in regard to your uncle – your uncle and his collection.”

Neil managed to retain the mild smile while he braced himself for what might come next, if it had anything to do with Stuart’s ‘little hobby’ or not (had Riko figured out that the Monet he’d bought was a fake?).

“That is, I-“

One of the servers approached the table and gave a short bow. “My apologies, Mr. Moriyama, but there’s an urgent call for you.”

Riko frowned as he patted his right thigh as if to check his phone, which hadn’t rung or vibrated during their meal. “That’s odd, I shouldn’t be interrupted tonight.” He then gave an apologetic smile to Neil. “I’m sorry, but it has to be important if they tracked me down here.”

“That’s okay.” Neil watched him leave before he slumped back into the velvet-covered booth… only to jerk upright when Andrew slid into it a few seconds later. “Oh for fuck’s sake, really?”

The slightest of frowns tugged at the corners of Andrew’s full lips. “Is that any way to greet me after the trouble I went through to arrange a few minutes alone with you?”

Neil’s smile took on a sharp edge. “Well, I can do the usual way when you startle me.” His hand crept toward the butter knife on the table while he spoke.

“I thought you French people weren’t supposed to be so violent,” Andrew said as he leaned away a little.

“You’re certainly living up to Americans being rude cliché, now go away.” Neil made a shooing motion with his napkin. “My, uhm, dinner partner isn’t known for his even temper.”

“Your ‘dinner partner’ is a known psycho. Nice taste in dates there,” Andrew said with blatant disapproval.

“He’s not my date and I’m not interested in the opinion of a barely competent thief, now go away before you need more than a simple bandage,” Neil hissed out.

For some reason, Andrew’s left eyebrow raised the slightest amount. “I’ve something important to tell you, if you’ll stop trying to kill me for five minutes.”

“Where’s the fun in that, and leave before he returns!” As annoying as the American could be, Neil didn’t want to deal with the mess Riko could leave if he returned and found someone sitting at his table with the person he’d asked out for the night.

“I will, if you agree to meet me tomorrow afternoon. Suite 136, the Ritz.”

Andrew showed no sign of leaving, while Neil could see Riko across the room; luckily, Matt had gotten up and currently was running interference. “Fine,” he gritted out, conceding that Andrew had won for the moment with ill grace. “Now go before you really do get stabbed.”

“Tomorrow,” Andrew said before he grabbed Neil’s wineglass, managed to gulp down its contents in a couple seconds then slipped away.

Neil really should stab the bastard, he thought as he fought not to grin.

His amusement vanished when a scowling Riko sat down beside him. “I think it was a prank call, there was nothing but gibberish on the line,” Riko muttered as he pulled out his phone and typed something on it. “I’m going to have someone look into it.”

Neil hoped that Andrew had done a good job of covering his tracks and mumbled something soothing until Riko was finished. “Now where were we… ah yes, your uncle’s collection.” Riko summoned what he probably thought was a friendly smile but was ‘off’ enough to make Neil want to shiver. “I have to admit, I’ve always admired it, especially one piece in particular.”

“And that is?” Neil asked, no longer certain that Riko had realized that he’d bought a fake.

“The Cellini Venus.” Riko’s gaze grew unfocused as he discussed the statue. “There’s something about it, something that haunts me. I admit, I was happy to meet you since I’d hoped you might be able to intervene with your uncle on my behalf since he’s refused all offers to buy the statue before now, but I’m enjoying our time together.”

Ah, that’s what it was – another person enraptured with the Venus. Neil gave him a sympathetic smile and dared a slight pat on the hand. “I understand, it is a true masterpiece and I wish I could offer it to you, but my uncle is adamant about it remaining in the family. If that ever changes, I’ll reach out to you first.” Not that it ever would.

“It was worth a try, wasn’t it? And at least I’ve you as a consolation prize.” Riko grinned as he twisted his hand around to capture Neil’s.

Not quite, but Neil was still for a couple of seconds since he noticed the server returning to the table and used the young man asking if there was anything they needed as an excuse to tug his hand free and order a cup of tea rather than jab the assuming asshole with a fork. That was the signal for Dan to call him soon after the drink arrived so he’d have an excuse to end ‘the date’.

Unfortunately, he had to agree to see Riko again, but he was free of the man’s presence for the night. After thanking Dan and Matt via text and assuring Allison that he was safely on his way home, he ensured that he wasn’t followed to the small mansion he shared with Stuart and Davis, where he gladly collapsed into his own bed.

He wasn’t in the mood to leave his home the next day, but he’d promised Andrew to meet up with him, as well as brunch with Matt and tea with Renee. After lounging around for part of the morning, he finally got up and dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt of Matt’s then went downstairs. Davis shook his head at his appearance and handed him a cup of tea before Neil went into Stuart’s study.

“There you are, interested in some breakfast?” Stuart asked as he motioned to the plates of food set out on the small table.

“I don’t have much time, I’ll eat something at Matt’s,” Neil said as he grabbed a small croissant to hold him over until then. “You’ll be happy to know that you can keep selling your artwork to Riko Moriyama since he has no clue about them being fakes. He asked me out because he was hoping I could get you to sell him the Cellini Venus.”

A predatory grin spread across Stuart’s face. “That’s a relief, he’s terrible at bargaining.”

“He’s terrible at a lot of things,” Neil muttered; during their conversation, the doorbell rang and Davis admitted the guest.

Stuart put aside his own cup of tea to go see who it was and Neil followed; there was an older gentleman dressed in a suit who nodded when Stuart greeted him, then pulled out a notepad to ask him about being the owner of one ‘twenty-nine inch marble statue named Venus by the artist Benevento Cellini’.

“Yes, that’s my statue, on loan to the museum,” Stuart agreed with a hint of suspicion. “What is this about?”

“It’s in regard to the insurance loan,” the man responded as he tapped the thick folder held beneath his left arm.

“What loan? I’ve never insured it since it’s priceless,” Stuart insisted while dread grew inside of Neil, thick and cold and slimy.

“It’s a precaution that the museum has taken for all the pieces in the exhibit,” the man explained, “except somehow your signature was overlooked on the Venus’ document.” He glanced around went over to the nearest table (18th century French) so he could pull it out, the intent clear for Stuart to sign it. “There’s no cost to you, it means that the work of art is covered until it’s returned to your possession in good order.”

Stuart approached the man with his hands clasped behind his back; Neil could tell that his uncle did his best to appear unruffled by this sudden complication. “That’s it? I just have to sign the paper?”

“Yes, and the statue will be fully insured for one million. It’s required of all the items for them to be in the exhibit and really should have been done weeks ago.” The man held out a pen for Stuart to use to sign the document.

It would look odd if Stuart refused and suddenly pulled out the Venus, especially when the exhibit already started. Still, Neil felt that sensation of dread grow as his uncle signed the paper. “Is there anything else? Any other requirements?” he asked as he approached his uncle.

The man nodded as he folded up the signed document. “As part of the insurance verification, the statue will be examined to ensure its authenticity. The company will send someone to do that on Friday, if you’d like to be there when it happens. This should have been explained already.”

Neil could barely nod, the same for Stuart, as the man promised to send them details before he left and apologized for the confusion. As soon as the door closed behind him, Stuart started to curse up a storm while Neil slumped against the wall.

“I can’t believe this, they told me nothing about authenticating it! How dare they not trust me!” Stuart ranted once he stopped cursing.

It was on the tip of Neil’s tongue to say ‘I told you so’, but how would that help the situation? Instead, he went back for his unfinished cup of tea then put on his shoes so he could leave.

“Where are you going at a time like this? We need to figure something out, to come up with a plan!” Stuart called out from the salon, where he was busy pouring himself a glass of whiskey.

“I have,” Neil said as he stood up. “I’m going to steal the damn thing back.”

*******

#nekojitachanfics #mumbling into the void #how to steal a million fic #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten #stuart hatford #andreil #aftg au #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds #riko moriyama #more snark #kevin day

[dhufflebee]

when I see you like that  (a Glee fanfiction)

One-shot Fandom: Glee Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jesse St. James & Andrea Cohen; Jesse St. James/Rachel Berry - mentioned (and at this point very much one-sided) Characters: Jesse St. James; Andrea Cohen  Additional Tags: rambling phone calls; basically just Jesse moping a lot; Friendship; Pining; Self-Worth Issues; rated T for some swearing

Read on:  AO3  |  ff.net Summary: After the loss at Nationals, Jesse can’t face his Vocal Adrenaline students, and calls his friend Andrea instead. Talking with her, though, painfully reveals his well-concealed sense of inadequacy—and his unquenchable feelings for one Rachel Berry

This fic is basically 3k words of Jesse moping, in a weird half-dialogue half-rant format. I’ve felt the need to write this since I’ve rewatched ‘Nationals’: that three-second shot of Jesse on the verge of tears has been haunting me, and I had to get the story out of my system. Most of all, I needed him to get some of the love and validation that the show deprived him of.

In my mind, it isn’t at all out of character for Jesse to be this miserable in private. He is crazy talented and he knows it, but he also has deep self-worth issues (due to his demanding and not very loving upbringing), for which he compensates with pride and overconfidence. He also has his (in)famous showface that rarely goes away, and he doesn’t feel comfortable being emotionally vulnerable. Except with Andrea—and, well, with Rachel.

By the way, I know Jesse and Andrea's friendship is mostly fanon, but I like it very much nonetheless.

Jesse had never felt so upset in his life. His heart, his mind, his guts were telling him conflicting things, and his knees were starting to give way under him as the adrenaline of the competition slowly went away. He barely managed to close the door to his room before he had to sit on the bed. He was feeling lightheaded, with black pushing at the edge of his vision—the way he would feel after a long training when he hadn’t eaten enough. But it wasn’t low blood pressure, Jesse knew that. It was the same dreadful mix of emotions and thoughts as that damn day two years before, but somehow a hundred times worse. Then it had been divided loyalties, two shattered hearts, and the gut punch of feeling like an utter bastard, but now… damn, he’d added so many failures in the past two years that he had no idea how his showface was still so good. He was starting to feel like a hollow husk at times. Something had definitely broken back then, and the constant, cyclical reminders of what he’d stupidly lost weren’t doing him any favors—that evening after Nationals, the castle of cards that had been Jesse St. James’s so-called adult life was a breath away from collapsing, once and for all.

Jesse kicked off his shoes, threw the suit jacket haphazardly on a chair, and lay down on the bed, trying to steady his breath against his inner turmoil. After a while, he felt blindly around his legs for his phone, until he found it lying precariously near the edge of the bed. He then flung the duvet up over his head and snuggled under it, shirt and nice slacks be damned. He unblocked his phone and opened his recent calls, dialing his best (only?) friend’s number.

“Victory boy! Hey!” a chipper voice answered.

“Andrea…”

“Ah. You didn’t win, then.”

Jesse sighed. Andrea’s reaction made him realize he sounded as dejected as he felt—something he’d long learned how to conceal, but the Chicago air must have jinxed him or something. Or maybe he was simply beginning to crumble under the pressure of his feelings. Whatever.

“I feel like crap, Andy. I should be with the guys, drowning our disappointment in ginger ale or what-have-you, but I don’t even have the energy for that. I barely managed to tell them I was proud of them—and I am—before I had to get out of there. They were crying, Andy, and the looks on the seniors’ faces… I just—I couldn’t stay.”

Jesse knew he was rambling, but a big part of his and Andrea’s friendship had always been taking turns in unloading while the other listened and then offered some honest advice. No one else in his life had ever made him feel safe enough to be so open and vulnerable—except for Rachel, but he’d thrown away his chance to have her at the other end of the line again, hadn’t he?

“I’m sure they understand, Jesse. You told them you were proud, and that’s what matters. Remember how nice it felt when they would tell us? Eased the disappointment of losing somewhat, no?” Andrea asked, a tinge of wistfulness in her voice.

“Yeah, well… god, they worked so hard for this. I really thought we’d win, you know? I honestly miss the high of victory—as I’m sure you do, too,” Jesse said with a smirk, getting a chuckle from Andrea in response. “Nevertheless, Carmel High is going to kick me out the minute I get back to Akron, as they so candidly told me they would when I got the job. And I guess they have all the rights to do it—what kind of failure am I, four-time champion and I can't even coach fucking Vocal Adrenaline to victory? I wouldn't want to keep me around either."

Jesse heard himself getting whinier by the minute, and he hated it, hated how earnest he ended up being while talking with Andrea (and with Rachel, too—he never quite managed to keep his walls up for long with her either… Stop! Stop thinking about that!). Andrea hesitated and exhaled, and Jesse could imagine her shaking her head as well.

"Why didn't you win, though?" she asked at last. "I've seen those videos you sent me: the choreo was incredible! What happened?"

"A ragtag bunch of misfits, that's what happened," Jesse answered, trying to sound mean but only managing desolate. Figures. "The New Directions really busted their asses this year, apparently. You should have seen them, everyone performed at a level they'd never reached before—and you know how they've always been so endearingly energetic. I loathe to admit it, but they were great, and I guess they did deserve to win. Probably. Couldn't tell that to my guys, though," he chuckled, gloomily.

"I'm glad to hear that," Andrea said, with a careful, knowing tone that Jesse instantly dreaded. "Is that it, though? This whole call just because the New Directions finally snatched first place after years of trying?"

Jesse didn't answer. He couldn't, he wouldn't tell Andrea the real reason of his moping—besides, he knew she could easily guess it.

"Unless..." (There it is.) "What about Rachel, Jesse? Did she sing?"

Jesse was thankful the conversation was happening on the phone, Andrea at one end of the nation and himself buried under a duvet in a hotel room in Chicago. He wouldn't have been able to sustain her gaze, otherwise. At least on the phone he didn't need his showface, and his instinct to flee from emotional vulnerability was somewhat tamed (but not much).

"Jesse?"

He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the phone more tightly, hoping to keep at bay the flood of emotions that he could sense coming. At last, he whispered: "Yeah, she did. It's All Coming Back to Me Now".

"Oh."

And that was it. Andrea’s understanding tone was all it took for the floodgates to open and for Jesse’s rambling, vulnerable side to come out in full force. Tears threatened to escape his eyes, but he them firmly shut—he would not cry.

“God, Andy, when she sung that song—it felt like she was saying all those things to me!” Jesse’s voice traitorously cracked at that last word.

“I don’t think that’s—”

“I know!” Good lord, he was whining again. “I know that it’s ridiculous! that I’m reading too much into it, that they chose the song way beforehand and Rachel has much better things to think about than me… But what if she was singing about us after all? The words are rather fitting, and she knows that—same as she knew we were bound to meet here tonight. It’s there, Andy, the whole story! Me being an idiot, all my mistakes and the hurt I inflicted her—she was reproaching me, and I cannot blame her because I deserve it. And I especially deserve to hear it from her magnificent voice, even if god knows I don’t need to be reminded of what I did to her.” Jesse was breathing heavily, almost unable to articulate his feelings, his words spilling out at an alarming speed.

Andrea remained silent for a few seconds, then answered with a deliberate yet soothing tone—the one she reserved for Jesse’s rare mopey moments. “I don’t think your history with Rachel had anything to do with the song, Jesse.” He scoffed lightly, but she ignored him. “Besides, you were a teenager back then, and you were forced between a rock and a hard place. Shelby was a bitch that manipulated you and treated both Rachel and the parents of that baby like dirt. Sure, you were a bit of a dick, but you’ve got to cut yourself some slack. You were not stupider than the average teen in love, all things considered.”

Jesse tried to scoff again, but what escaped his throat sounded more like a sob than anything else. “Andy, you don’t understand,” he pleaded, pressing the heel of his free hand on his eyes. “I threw away the one truly warm thing in my life because Shelby threatened to take away my scholarship to UCLA, and look how well that went,” Jesse laughed bitterly. Ah, the familiar taste of self-deprecation. Saying all that out loud felt better than just mulling over it constantly, though. “I’m such an imbecile—I got college handed to me on a silver platter, and I couldn’t even manage to float just above the pass grade? Or, I don’t know, use my fucking brain for a change? And to think I would be so conceited about it, as if I could ever hope to accomplish anything intelligence-related…”

“Jesse, stop!” Andrea interjected vehemently. “You’re spiraling and you’re starting to sound like your father. You’re not stupid, you’re not brainless—you’re smart, and the most brilliant guy I know as far as musical theater is concerned. And don’t start with how acting or singing or whatever is bullshit, because I’ll come down there, slap you, and then find your dad and punch him on his ugly mug.” At that, Jesse felt a sharp surge of affection for his friend, regardless of her proclivity for mild physical threats. “We all sweated blood in Vocal Adrenaline, but we were happy and good—you above all, because performing is your passion and your talent. Who cares if you didn’t pass gen eds? You’re wonderful, and you will take Broadway by storm soon.”

“Ms. Tibideaux didn’t seem to think so,” Jesse replied, dejectedly.

“Who?”

“Carmen Tibideaux. NYADA?”

“What does she have to do with anything now?” Andrea asked, confused. “That was years ago.”

“Yeah, right—the first of my many failures.” Jesse’s tone was more bitter than he expected. He intentionally hadn’t thought much about his audition since, but he guessed disappointments never actually stopped stinging, did they?

“Come on, Jesse…”

“I didn’t get in, okay? No point in sweetening the pill. I was good but apparently not enough—and I always knew that, but now I have confirmation from the woman’s own voice that I ‘showed promise’ but couldn’t overcome the obstacles to be the best. So really, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with my life.” Was he being overdramatic and overly self-critical? Absolutely. At that moment, though, Jesse had no idea how to stop.

“Enough!” Andrea exclaimed. Deep down, the rational part of Jesse’s brain had realized he was being maddening, but he also had to admit he didn’t mind Andy’s forceful tone. It felt strangely soothing, being told to get a grip from someone who cared about him.

“I can’t believe you are saying this,” she pressed on. “I’ve already told you: you are incredible, and I won’t let you wallow in this kind of negativity. The audition was years ago, and believe me, I’ve seen you get absurdly better in the meantime. Ms. Tibideaux said you showed promise, and that’s good! You did and you do, and you will reach even higher that she could ever imagine.”

Jesse hummed, not entirely convinced but certainly relieved that someone else was eager to vouch for his talent. He knew he was good (okay, very good), but that didn’t mean he wasn’t, from time to time, afraid he’d been deluding himself due to his own arrogance.

“When did you speak with the woman?” Andrea asked.

“She was here to see Rachel perform. And when I went and told her she shouldn’t let Rachel slip through her fingers, she remembered me and made a list of all the flaws in my audition. Lovely experience, really,” Jesse said, with a bitter chuckle.

“Aw, you put in a good word for Rachel—that’s so sweet! Did you tell her?”

“I can’t! Are you crazy? She cannot know ever. I don’t deserve her knowing, if anything I owe her.” Jesse replied, his voice half-strangled. (Pathetic.) “Rachel and I bantered for a couple of minutes before the competition, and it almost got me punched by Finn, in addition to giving me some serious doubts about my ability to function properly.” He smiled at the memory. Rachel’s red dress was still incredibly vivid in his mind. “God, Andrea, you should have seen her—she was radiant. I’d ever seen her inhabit the stage so perfectly. She is the one who deserves to take Broadway by storm and who will. She’s a powerhouse, and she’s absurdly talented, and tonight she looked so beautiful with that smile of hers, and then she sang Céline and I couldn’t—”

Jesse heard Andrea exhale, as if ready to answer, but he rambled on, unable—unwilling—to stop now that someone was there to listen to him for once.

“I just—I miss Rachel so much. She earnestly thought I was worth all the fuss. Even with Shelby, it’d always seem like my work was barely acceptable, and that all the trophies were just due to luck and the power of a good routine or something. Which yeah, I guess is true, but—honestly, Andy, except for you, Rachel’s the only person who’d always tell me how much she liked when I performed, and how good I was. I was starved—I am starved for that, Andy. D’you know my grades improved while I was in Lima with her? I actually had to study, and I wasn’t half bad at it. All thanks to her. God knows why she stayed with me after the initial razzle-dazzle, because she was way better that I could ever deserve. And she definitely deserved more than yours fucking truly,” Jesse spat out.

“And I guess she will have it,” he continued, barely taking time to breathe, “since she’s getting married soon to Finn. And sure, I hate him and he hates me, but I can see how Rachel looks at him, and he looks at her the same way. I mean, he’s a rhythmically-challenged dumbass, but I can’t deny he makes her happy—that’s the truly important thing. I ruined everything, and I know I’d never be able to make her feel that way. I think Rachel could really be the one, you know? I feel it in my bones, I’ll never be as happy with anyone else as I was with her… But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is Rachel won’t have a fuckup like me beside her, who’d just end up wiping her wonderful smile away.”

Jesse had to stop—his throat was aching due to the strain of putting one coherent word after another, of trying to talk as fast as his inner turmoil demanded. Tears were escaping his eyes and running down his cheeks and in his hair. He didn’t care that he was crying, though: he already felt like an utter failure, another embarrassing thing wouldn’t change anything. Besides, it was nice, having a friend listen to him while he moped and pined. Crying is good, right? It helps get the toxins and the sadness out, doesn’t it? A good cry and I’ll stop feeling like shit—

“Oh, Jesse…” Andrea whispered after a beat, and that shattered Jesse’s attempts at regaining his composure—he started sobbing uncontrollably, burying himself more and more under the duvet.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me that?” Andrea asked, softly. “God, Jesse, I wish I was there to hug you. Believe me, though, Rachel is right—everything she told you and everything she thinks about you is true. You’ve had a lot of shitty people in your life, but never for a second doubt that Rachel was sincere and saying things as they are. You’re brilliant and very talented, whether you believe it or not,” Andrea added, in a decisive tone that drew a wet smile from Jesse, “and no amount of Shelby or Ms. Tibideaux or your asshole of a father can claim otherwise. All that hard work and dedication… you do deserve the world, Jesse.”

Calming his breath enough to answer took Jesse a moment—his gratefulness to Andrea and his longing for Rachel were a killer combination, and he didn’t want to start bawling again.

“Thank you, Andy,” he finally managed to say. “I just wish I’d made fewer mistakes, you know? Maybe then I wouldn’t always feel like such a failure, maybe I wouldn’t be so lonely all the time and it wouldn’t hurt this much… I know things between me and Rachel probably won’t ever be mended, but gosh what I wouldn’t give to sing with her on a real stage, to have a partner that inspires me to be better and lets me share the spotlight with her.” Jesse exhaled shakily, willing himself to not cry until he had finished talking. “It’s too late now, though, and it’s all my fault, no point in denying that. I just wish for her to be as wonderful and captivating as she was tonight, forever—she lit up the whole place. I really hope I didn’t make an ass of myself with Ms. Tibideaux, and that Rachel’s dreams will come true. No, scratch that: I know they will. I just pray I’ll be able to get a glimpse of her happy as can be.”

Andrea’s silence at the other end of the line was almost deafening, but Jesse pressed on, feeling that he’d never have another chance (nor the nerve) to admit to it all out loud.

“Sorry for the rant, Andy. We lost Nationals and it hurts like hell, but it will pass—it’s going to be a nifty addition to the You’re A Failure pile, though,” Jesse mused, with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I have no idea what my plans for the future are going to be, after Carmel High parts ways with me. I guess I could finally try and go to New York for real. It’s just that, you know, seeing Rachel again really threw me for a loop, even after all this time, and I’m not sure why—”

“It’s love, Jesse,” Andrea interjected. “The way you talk about Rachel—you love her.”

Jesse inhaled sharply. Repeating that to himself was one thing, but hearing someone else say it so matter-of-factly felt real, definitive. (Scary.) “Hurray for me, then,” he muttered, at a loss for words to describe how his heart was ablaze, dismayed, and longing at the same time.

“I really hope you and Rachel will put your cracked pieces back together, Jesse,” Andrea said, sounding softer than she did at any other point in the phone call. “You both deserve a great life, and to have your talents shine—you and her alongside each other? Musical theater won’t ever be prepared, let me tell you.”

“Thank you, Andy.” Jesse’s eyes had filled with tears once again, and he’d once again buried himself under the duvet, in hopes of preventing the onslaught of painful memories he was sure would come. But it was no use—he thought back to Rachel singing, and a loud sob escaped his lips. Tears started falling freely down his cheeks and neck, reaching his hair and the collar of his shirt. “I wish. I’m not sure I believe that, but god, I wish.”

#glee #jesse st james #andrea cohen #fanfiction #pining #glee (tv) #my fics #i've finally written this after obsessing over the episode and this whole plot bunny for more than a week #the format is wwird and it's rambly but i like how it turned out #i needed to get it out of my system and to give jesse some much needed love #me

[rosy-night-sky]

Of Treasure and Adventure

Genre: Treasure Hunter/Indiana Jones AU

Pairing: Ot7 x reader

Summary: Your grandmother gave you a gift that she won in a game, so naturally you are curious as to the origins of it. A decision was then made that you should seek the answers to your questions. However, you never expected your decision to lead you on a treasure hunting quest.

Warning: Suggestive and violent themes

Tag List: @sevenincubistolemyheart @xxqueenwxtchxx @technicolor-blues @taevkimchi @youcantbesiriusremus @vannilacake @baby-hobii @catsandstrawberries @izzyisavengersupernaturaltrash @http-lostforever @jhopetypes @seesawsmin-flower @taekookandyoongi @star-gods

(A/N: Ugh, so sorry if this is trash, I spent a lot of time writing this!)

Chapter 8

Hundreds of streetlights flew past you like little fireflies in the night sky. The white brick buildings that loomed over you as you rode pass by gave you a taste of home. Everything here had a sense of British influence on it. Even the way people acted reminded you of your home country. The orange and yellow lights that shone brightly from the streetlights dyed the night sky a blackish orange tint. A few pedestrians wandered around the streets, searching for anything and anyone that could give them a good time. They wanted to forget themselves and reality, even if it lasted only a single night.

The soothing evening breeze cooled your skin comfortingly. It had such a relaxing effect on you that you almost dozed off a few times. Key word… almost. Even if the night air was very relaxing, the fact that your stomach continued to do flips nauseously kept you awake and focused. The longer you remained in the car the more your stomach flipped and fluttered. Your mouth had been dry the entire ride, and this gagging lump was still lodged in your throat.

You fiddled with your fingers as you took in the evening sights, looking for anything that could distract you from your anxious thoughts. You were confident in the plan. After all, Yoongi spent an entire day mapping out the structure and wiring of the building where the gala was being taken place so that he knew which plug he needed to pull and which wire he needed to cut. He even came up with backup plans in case somehow merely flipping the switch permanently wouldn’t cut it. You tried to remain interested when Yoongi explained the nuances and technicalities of the switches, distribution boards, sockets, and light fittings in the structure, but you lost it when he began discussing how the building had a system where it employed vulcanized-rubber insulated wiring enclosed in a strip metal sheath which bonded to each metal wiring device to ensure earthing continuity. 

This was why you were a journalist and not an electrician. 

You inhaled deeply through your nose, your eyes closing for a mere moment as you willed your stomach to stop fluttering relentlessly. You didn’t know if you considered the events that were about to take place in the near future were going to be the most dangerous you underwent. After all, you took part in a shoot out a week earlier. However, you knew that this was going to be extremely risky. One wrong move and your whole life could be over in a snap.

Jin, who drove the convertible seemingly without a single care in the world, glanced over to your shaky and fidgety form and gave you a small, reassuring smile. “A penny for your thoughts?” he asked all too casually. He acted like he wasn’t about to commit a felony, which, you supposed, was a good thing. You rather he acted inconspicuous.

You tore your gaze away from the moving buildings and brought your attention to meet the millionaire’s beautiful face. The way the wind blew through his dark locks reminded you of the paintings of ancient Greek gods you wrote an article on once. He really was an image of perfection and beauty that all envied. Not a single blemish or flaw adorned his features.

Snapping yourself from your daze and thoughts, you replied in a tone that matched his, “Oh, nothing, just thinking about how this is all going to land us in prison.”  

Jin chuckled humorously, as if you merely told him a funny joke. “Oh, ye of little faith. Of course we’re going to end up in prison if you keep on with that attitude. Think positively and everything will be fine.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes as you prompted your uninjured elbow on the side of the car, your chin cradled in your own palm. “Last time I thought optimistically, I fell down a hill, sprained my elbow, and almost got shot on several occasions,” you quipped snappily. 

Jin didn’t reply at first. His eyes were glued to the cobbled streets which were free of any congested traffic. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel lightly, as if he was tapping to a jazzy tune that had been stuck in his head all day. “I won’t lie to you. What we’re about to do is very dicey.” You cut him off with a scoff before he continued, “However, half of what we need to pull this off is confidence.”

“Confidence or rashness?” you inquired with an arched eyebrow.

“Confidence,” he firmly answered, finally glancing to you out of the corner of his eye. “If we are confident that we can succeed in this endeavor, then it will happen. We can’t be constantly second guessing ourselves. Otherwise, this expedition will become a failure.” His mirthful smile slowly faded into an impassive gloom. The aura surrounding him had suddenly turned bleak, and you couldn’t help but probe into this.

“Are you telling this to me or yourself?”

His grip on the wheel tightened for a mere moment. You wouldn’t have caught onto the action if you hadn’t already been analyzing his body signals. You knew that he was carefully choosing his next few words. A single slip could lead into revealing confidential information about him. “I suppose a bit of both. We both need this message but for different reasons. This expedition is absolutely crucial, and we can’t afford to be anxious of what all of this may come to. We’ve come too far. If anything, that’s what fighting the Japanese taught me. We need to take a leap of faith sometimes,” he explained, and you listened to every single word that came from his mouth. He did have a point, you supposed. Being too scared to take the next step can be fatal.

You broke away your gaze from him and returned to the sights around you. “I guess you’re right.” 

“Exactly, now cheer up. Jungkook will be waiting for us.”

Right, Jungkook had decided to go on ahead while the two of you prepared yourselves for the night. He said he wanted to scope the area for any potential threats that could possibly jeopardize the mission. You agreed with his concerns. Everything had to be absolutely perfect. Not a single thing could be out of place.

You knew that you and Jin were nearing your destination. The streets suddenly became frequent with men and ladies embellished with silk dresses, dashing suits, sparkling jewelry, and expensive accessories. It looked like you were living those pictures from the magazines that you often lost yourself in for entertainment. Attending extravagant parties and balls with some of the most influential people in the country seemed like something from a dream to you. You never would have thought that you would have ended up somewhere like this.

Jin parked the car a few meters away from the entrance of the museum, and instantly you were starstruck by the opulence and splendor of the event. The museum towered over you much like the Goldosa had before. Spotlights pointed into the sky gathering the attention of all near and far. A red carpet was laid out for all of the attendees to strut upon as if it were something from Hollywood. A huge crowd of rich men and women were scattered about with drinks in hand, gossiping and gloating the prices of their clothing to one another.

Your eyes couldn’t help but remain glued to the sight, even as Jungkook stepped out into your view and opened your door, taking your hand and guiding you out of the vehicle. In all honesty, you felt like a sheep among a pack of wolves. You didn’t necessarily belong to the upper class, and, thus, such a display left you speechless.

Jin chuckled when seeing your amazed expression and gently looped his arm through yours. He was a gentleman through and through, after all. He couldn’t leave a lady unattended. “Shocked, are we?” he queried, his tone light and teasing.

Jungkook followed the older’s gaze and saw your gaped mouth and round eyes. A small snigger escaped his lips, and he quietly cooed to himself. You were honestly too adorable for words. You looked like a child being brought to her very first day of school. “Is this your first time at a gala?” he asked curiously.

You finally managed to regain yourself and snapped yourself out of your daze. You cleared your throat and clasped your hand around your red clutch bag with a firm grip. Looking back at Jungkook’s cute bunny smile, you replied, “Well, not exactly galas, but I’ve been to plenty of exhibit openings before. I’m a reporter, remember? It’s just…” Your voice trailed off as your eyes tarried up uncertainly to look at the shining spotlights pointed up into the night sky. “Isn’t this a bit much for an exhibit opening?” 

Jungkook also looked up into the black sky, his hands digging themselves into his suit pockets. “Actually, this is pretty subtle for a gala,” he commented, causing your eyes to widen in surprise.

Was he actually serious? There were galas more excessive and flamboyant than this? You suppose that the only way this could get any more extravagant was if the sky suddenly started to rain colorful confetti. Still, you thought that this was going to be more modest. You shouldn’t be surprised, but here you were, slack jaw and wide eyed.

“Subtle? This is absurd!” you exclaimed, although you softened your voice so that no one around could hear your rantings.

Jin finally broke out in a small bout of laughter. Your reaction to your first gala was too hilarious and priceless for him to not laugh at. “I once attended a party where the host brought show girls to entertain us,” he revealed, waiting with a smug smirk for your reaction.

Just as he hoped, you caught onto what he insinuated and began to sputter with round eyes. “Show girls?!” Why was he, a businessman, going to parties with showgirls? When did he have time for things like that? 

With a smirk, he lightly slapped your arm in a gesture to quiet down your flabbergasted shrieks. “Shush, darling,” he hushed in an amused tone. “People are watching.” He offered polite smiles to a group of older men sharing cigars and discussing politics in their small circles while guiding you through the white stone arches leading to the entrance of the museum. 

You huffed, still feeling the rush of shock in your veins along with the new feeling of slight agitation bubble within you. “Then don’t say things like that if you don’t want people to stare,” you retorted, glancing up at the stone structure before returning your focus to what was ahead of you. 

Jungkook straightened his suit and adopted the persona of an appointed bodyguard, his face donning a cold and calculated mask. Honestly, you would find his sudden switch to be extremely attractive, but you didn’t have time to be staring at him. He fixed his tie before commenting, “Tonight, y/n, everyone will be staring at us. Our each and every move will be judged by all.”

Those words didn’t exactly quell your fears.

Jin slowed his walking to a stop, as if mentally preparing himself for what was ahead. Suddenly, he turned to you and grabbed the white fur shawl draped around your shoulders and arms. He readjusted it so it sat perfectly on your bare shoulders like a mother fixing her child’s appearance so that he looked presentable. “You look lovely tonight, y/n,” he commented softly, a small smile gracing his lips. “Namjoon was right to get you this. It compliments your dress nicely.”

You flickered your eyes to the floor for a few seconds, suddenly feeling bashful from his sincere compliment. Your memory brought you back to your tender moment with Namjoon. His warm embrace, the way his eyes shone with such adoration and love. It was such a perfect moment. You could still feel his soft lips on yours. 

From the way Jungkook was staring at you, you figured that he knew what you were thinking. His lips curled into a smug, knowing smile that you just wanted to wipe off. Who knew the youngest could be such a brat sometimes. “Jin was also right to pick red for you. It really brings out your eyes.” 

You would’ve been touched by Jungkook’s compliment if not for his teasing smirk. Feeling your cheeks tingle with heat, you mumbled in reply, “Thank you. You both look rather dashing as well.”

Jin’s lips stretched to widen his smile. You had to admit, his smile was something ethereal. You wouldn’t be surprised if someone told you that he was secretly a deity in mortal disguise. A small laugh escaped his lips. “I am always dashing. You just have yet to realize that.” Once he was done fixing your shawl, he took your arm in his own again and faced the enormous crowd awaiting you both. “Remember to smile, dear. We can’t have everyone knowing our intentions.”

You both then stepped over the threshold separating you from the outside world. Just like that, the operation to steal the kobae began. 

“Right,” you sighed, curling the corners of your mouth into a courteous and cheerful smile. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Weaving you through the crowds with Jin at your side and Jungkook at your heel, the scent of expensive perfume and cologne filled your nostrils. You almost choked on the strong stench but managed to remain composed. Dear Lord, what do they put in those fragrance bottles? Skunk stench? It certainly was as strong and potent as a skunk.

“The worst, at the moment, is that we accidentally run into someone that either of us know,” Jin replied, taking you to the refreshment table. He plucked up two glasses of bubbly champagne and handed you one, which you graciously took. “Right now, we need to socialize. Talk to people. Warm up to them. Get on their good side. That way, when we have the kobae, we seem less suspicious to everyone.”

You took a sip of champagne while listening to Jin explain the plan and then grimaced in disgust. Ugh, what kind of champagne did they bring to this gala? You thought that the best was supposed to be here? Why did this taste so sour? Did they accidentally bring champagne that had gone bad?

“Wouldn’t we want to stay inconspicuous though? That way the people won’t remember us?” you questioned, trying to ignore the bitter taste on your tongue. 

Jin shook his head but continued to appear pleasant and cheerful to those around him. “No, people don’t attend galas to not mingle. If we want to seem natural to everyone, then we have to associate with others,” he answered, taking a drink of his glass.

Jungkook slowly took one of the glasses from the table, his fingers curling around the stem, and took a small sip from the yellow, bubbling liquid, as if he were curious about what it would taste like. Instantly, his face scrunched up in disgust as if he just ate a lemon and quickly placed the glass back on the table, hoping that no one noticed his little spectacle. Finally, you weren’t alone in this regard.

Leaning into him, you whispered, “You don’t like it either?”

He coughed into his hand shortly followed by his tongue peeking out of his mouth as if he were trying to be rid of the foul taste on it. “What did they put in it? Vinegar? Bleugh!”

Swirling your drink in your glass, you answered with a slight frown, “I think the champagne went bad. It doesn’t age well unlike wine.”

“No, it isn’t spoiled,” Jin answered plainly before taking another sip. He seemed unaffected by the sour taste. Lucky bastard. “If it was, it would be a golden hue, not pale yellow. This batch is just particularly sour.”

Jungkook scoffed quietly to himself. “Of course you’d know. You’re an alcohol connoisseur.”

Jin merely hummed pleasantly to himself, his eyes scanning over the vast crowds like a spectator watching a sports game. “You say that like it’s an insult,” he chuckled for a moment. His arm around yours tightened for a bit, rousing your attention to him. “Let’s go out and socialize with others before we’re deemed reclusive.”

You sighed in slight defeat. This wasn’t exactly what you were hoping for. “Jin, I’m not exactly familiar with these type of people.” You mildly gestured to the gossiping people before you, each seemingly enjoying themselves. “What do I even talk about?”

Jin shrugged his broad shoulders nonchalantly. “I’d imagine that the Indian Independence Movement is on everyone’s minds. You’re informed in that area, right? You could discuss that with others, but be mindful of what everyone’s opinions are on the subject. We don’t need to make any enemies tonight,” he mentioned.

You still hesitated to go out and begin consorting everyone. The thought of possibly offending some rich lord or lady accidentally sent a wave of dread over you. You shuffled in your spot uncomfortably next to the millionaire, suddenly becoming super self-conscious of every little thing you did. Did your hair look good? Is this how a lady is supposed to stand? What if someone saw your arm in a cast hiding under your furry shawl?

Jin noticed your reluctance and gave you an innocent smile. However, based on what he was about to say, you knew it was anything but innocent. “Aw, is our baby girl too shy to go out and make new friends~?” he cooed quietly enough so only you could hear him. 

“Jin!” you hissed under your breath, trying to ignore the growing heat on your cheeks. What was he trying to do treating you like a little girl? 

You heard Jungkook chuckle from behind you, a hand hovered over his mouth to hide and muffle the noise. “Does our doll-face need us to hold her hand tonight also~?” he murmured softly, his hand moving to reveal his cocky grin. Argh, how you wanted to smack that grin off his face!

“Jungkook!” you hissed with just as much fervor as you did with Jin. You felt like a mother trying to keep her mischievous sons under control. A sharp pang tug at your heart for their mothers. They must be exhausted from dealing with their little devils. “A bodyguard is supposed to be silent!”

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders carelessly, as if your words meant little to him. Jin, on the other hand, ignored your seething and pulled your closer to his side. The strong stink of perfume that filled the air was suddenly replaced by the natural scent of Jin’s musk. For a moment, you relaxed under his touch but then instantly froze up. “Don’t worry, dearest. I’ll go and help you make new friends.” He moved his hand so it was pressed against the small of your back, urging you to move forward.

You began walking at Jin’s insistence. Where to? You had no idea. Ladies and gentlemen stared at you curiously as you weaved through the crowds. You tried your best to ignore their rude stares and to remain calm. You just followed the direction that the millionaire pushed you until he abruptly pulled you to a stop before weaving his arm through yours again. You realized that he stopped you by a group of two couples around your age. Hopefully, this was a good place to start with socializing. 

“Good evening, everyone,” Jin politely greeted, giving each a small bow of the head. “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

The couples, although they were a tiny bit perplexed by your sudden appearance, nodded in agreement. One of the men, who had a handlebar mustache that covered his mouth, spoke up, “I’m so glad that tonight is rather cool. I don’t think I could handle another sweltering night.” He then held out his hand toward Jin for a handshake. “Michael Collins.”

“Seokjin Kim,” he replied, returning his handshake. You supposed that Jin switched up his name so that they wouldn’t get it mixed up. 

“Ooooh, that sounds rather exotic, Mr. Kim,” one of the girls commented, her tone turning kittenish. She raised her hand toward the millionaire, offering it for a kiss. “I’m Charlotte Dixon.” You didn’t fail to notice the flirtatious gleam in her dark eyes as Jin took her hand in his own.

“Enchanted to meet your acquaintance, Ms. Dixon.” He placed a kiss on the back of her gloved hand. By the way his lips dwelt on her hand a second longer than necessary, you would’ve been rather irritated by his coquettish attitude, if not for the fact that you knew it was all an act. Like he said, you both needed people to think of you fondly, even if it meant tossing your morals and beliefs out the window.

Ms. Dixon’s partner must’ve been oblivious of Jin’s action for he didn’t react poorly at all, or he knew what his game was but didn’t care. He stuck his hand out to Jin, and at this moment you realized that no one was paying you any heed. You almost preferred it this way, since you weren’t given the opportunity to absolutely humiliate yourself. However, you soon found out that you didn’t like being on the sidelines. You wanted to be in on the action.

“Vincent Foster, I’m a distiller.” After he finished shaking Jin’s hand, he added with a proud grin, “In fact, I’m the one who provided this event with the drinks.”

Ah, so he was the one to be blamed for this God awful champagne? Good thing you hadn’t started complaining yet. Otherwise, you’d be in your own grave by now.

“Ah, a businessman?” Jin inquired, with a fond smile. “I myself own a watchmaking company. It’s so nice to see another person of the same mindset, and here I thought I would be surrounded by historians and philosophers.”

“If there were, then we wouldn’t even bother wasting our time here,” Mr. Collins’ partner remarked with a soft snort. You stared at her expectedly for a few moments, waiting for her to introduce herself. Once she realized that you, in fact, don’t know her name, she quickly added, “Oh, I’m Martha Hopkins.”

Once you gathered everyone’s names, you just realized that Jin was truly the oddball in the entire group. Everyone was British by birth while Jin was a foreigner in their eyes. You hoped this mere fact wouldn’t make the others snobbish toward him. You didn’t know if you had the patience for such insolence. 

You opened your mouth to introduce yourself to the others, but Jin beat you to it saying, “This is my lovely fiancée, Ms. y/n l/n.” 

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your sockets. Fiancée?! Why the bloody hell did he need to tell them that for?! It had nothing to do with anything! You whipped your gaze frantically to meet his own. Was he out of his mind? Was he trying to compromise the mission?! Even Jungkook gave Jin a bewildered glance out of the corner of his eyes, as if he couldn’t figure out why on earth the elder pulled a stunt like that.

Hoping that no one got suspicious by your panicked reaction, you quickly whined, “Honey, don’t tell them that! You know how flustered I get when you mention things like this.”

Ms. Hopkins released a small coo upon hearing Jin’s announcement. She placed a hand over her heart as a sign of how touched she was. “Congratulations! I how you have a happy and healthy marriage.” She then raised her glass for a toast. “For the future bride and groom.”

Everyone repeated her words and clinked their glasses together before taking a sip. You drained the remaining contaminants quickly, not caring if anyone gave you an awkward stare. Forget the awful taste of the champagne, you needed alcohol in your system now. Jin glanced at you curiously out of the corner of his eye before releasing a small, faint chuckle.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Mr. Collins began with an inquisitive gleam in his beady eyes, “how did you come to meet each other?”

See, this was why Jin shouldn’t have said this in the first place, because now you were going to have to dig deeper into this lie. Before the millionaire could get a single word out of his mouth, you answered, “We met during one of the rebel protests against the passage of the Public Safety Bill and the Trade Disputes Bill. I was a reporter for the Gazette, and he was on a business venture with some of the marketers here. We somehow got caught up in the protests, and he managed to get me to safety after the bomb was thrown.” You then sighed wistfully for effect, making you seem like a lovesick fool. “The rest is history…”

“How chivalrous of you, Mr. Kim,” Mr. Foster commented with a small chortle before taking another drink of his champagne.

You didn’t fail to notice the eye roll Ms. Dixon attempted to hide. It seemed she had her sights set on him tonight it seemed. You assumed she was a hired escort for Mr. Collins. After all, the man with the mustache seemed quite a few years her senior, and she didn’t appear to be the type of woman who would waste her time on someone like him unless she got something out of it. She was going to be quite a handful to deal with, you expected.

Jin moved his arm so that it snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to his body. You definitely seemed like the picturesque image of the madly in love couple that everyone envied. Let’s hope that this whole story didn’t come to bite you in the rear. If it did, you were going to give Jin a piece of your mind.

“I couldn’t just let a lovely lady get injured in the madness,” he confessed charmingly. His face beheld emotions of complete fondness and tenderness for you. He seemed he was ready to get down on his knees and worship the ground you walk on. Such warmth and devotion radiated from his body that you almost doubled back in wonder.

Damn, he really was a good actor.

You playfully smacked him in his ribs with a bright smile adorning your face. “Oh, stop, you…” you giggled, looking down to obscure your bashful face. “You’re just trying it get me all muddled up, aren’t you?”

Jin sighed in a dramatic fashion. “Damn, you’ve figured me out.” You weren’t sure if he was merely acting or not. Something about the tone in his voice made it almost believable. “You know that I can’t resist seeing you all bothered.”

You smacked him again, but this time you hit him a little harder than before due to the annoyance that bubbled within you. You heard Jin release a tiny ‘oof’ at the sharp jab you gave him in the ribs but continued to smile cheerfully at the other guests. Served him right for throwing you into this mess of a situation. If he pulled something like this again, you were going to box his ears.

Mr. Collins stroked his bushy mustache thoughtfully as his eyes eventually landed on Jungkook hovering behind you and Jin, his face as emotionless as the paintings that riddled the walls. Mr. Collins’ equally bushy eyebrows shot up curiously and gestured to the much younger man. “And who is this fine, young gentleman here, dare I ask?” he wondered in a chipper tone.

You gave Jungkook a mere glance before answering coolly, “Oh, pay him no heed. He’s just our guardian for tonight. What with the protests riots in motion, we didn’t want to risk the possibility of any rebels jumping us tonight.” You smiled to the gentleman with a cheerful twinkle in your eyes, emitting a trustful and innocent aura from you. “I’m sure you understand our caution, Mr. Collins.”

“You must tell me where you hired such a man,” Ms. Dixon implored in a sultry tone, looking Jungkook up and down with a dark glint in her eyes. You resisted the urge to retch at the sight. You were somewhat relieved that she no longer lusted for Jin, but you rather she didn’t yearn for either men at your side.

“Oh, before I forget to ask such a thing,” Ms. Hopkins butted in, ignoring Ms. Dixon’s immodest comment. “Do you perchance know of our special guest that came here tonight? I hear he is another oriental. Maybe you two bumped into each other sometime ago?”

You and Jin both smiled and sighed in relief inwardly. She must be talking about Namjoon. You knew that the historian came to the gala a few hours ahead of you two to avoid arousing suspicion, but unfortunately neither of you had spotted him in the crowds. He must be in deep discussion with some of the other guests.

In a mirthful voice, he answered, “Ah, I believe you’re speaking of my colleague, Namjoon Kim. Yes, he wrote to me saying that he was also attending-”

“Oh, no, no, no!” Ms. Hopkins interrupted, waving her gloved hand in the air as if to sweep what your ‘fiancé’ just said away. “This is a different foreigner! I believe his name was… Oh, I forget what it was! Darling, do you remember what his name was?” She turned to her partner, Mr. Foster, for help in the situation.

You felt the smile slowly drop from your face along with Jin’s as a deep sense of dread and fear settled among the three of you. There was someone else here? Another foreigner that supposedly Jin could know? You glanced up at the millionaire, and, although he remained calm and composed, you knew that a storm of emotions raged within him, ready to wear him down to the bone. Your mind instantly went to the chance that perhaps someone from the Japanese government managed to track you here, but you knew very well that Jin put a lot of money and effort to cover everyone’s tracks.

Mr. Foster pondered for a few moments, mentally searching for the name that was on the tip of his tongue. His finger tapped against his glass in deep thought as deep hum resonated from his throat. “I believe it was… Oh, I know it… It’s… Virgil…? No… Vante! That’s it!” He cried out triumphantly while his partner cheered and praised him for his good memory.

Meanwhile, the calm exterior on Jin’s face slowly faded into a slightly annoyed frown. A soft scoff past through his lips before his recomposed himself with a polite smile. His smile was strained, you noticed, as if someone told him a very poor joke. “Vante?” He paused to contemplate the name but just ended up shaking his head. “No, I don’t believe I know the man. Is he from Korea?”

Mr. Foster simply shrugged his shoulders casually. “I don’t know. I never bothered to look into him. You foreigners all look the same to me; it’s hard for me to tell the difference.” He chuckled to himself and the other couples before continuing, “All I really know about him is that he is an excellent artist. I show really look into buying a painting or two from him. That way I can appear to be a more cultured businessman.”

Jin’s smile became even more strained the longer the man went on. For a moment, you thought that his fingers were going to snap the steam of his glass in two. However, he just lifted the glass to the man as a gesture of respect. However, you knew that your partner had little respect for the fellow businessman. “A smart move, Mr. Foster.”

Mr. Collins then went into a harangue about the many pieces of art and literature that he obtained from his travels across the world, in which Ms. Dixon tried her very hardest to appear interested in what her companion had to say. You took this opportunity to lean into Jin’s ear and whispered quietly into his ear, “You know this ‘Vante’, don’t you?”

Jin never directed his attention away from Mr. Collins as he softly replied, “Yes, I do, and you know him as well. Even Jungkook knows him.”

You furrowed your eyebrows confusedly at his response. You glanced at your bodyguard, who was searching around him for someone in particular. You figured it was this Vante that had them on edge. Turning back to Jin, you further prodded, “Alright then, mind telling me who he is then?”

Jin opened his mouth to answer when Jungkook stepped in and alerted him, “Jin, there he is. Would you like me to confront him?”

You and Jin followed Jungkook’s small gesture toward where the infamous artist stood. Your jaw nearly dropped to the floor as you recognized the figure.  Your thoughts scrambled together to form some sort of a complete sentence. A whirlwind of emotions went through you at that moment. Bewilderment. Shock. Disbelief. You had to blink a few times to confirm that what you saw wasn’t a trick of the eye. However, it soon became apparent that you, indeed, knew this man. He was the last person you expected to be here at the gala.

The man standing a few meters away, admiring a painting with deep interest, was Taehyung. What was he doing here?! He could jeopardize the whole mission!

“No, don’t,” Jin answered, snapping you from your dazed thoughts. “A bodyguard confronting him will only get everyone’s attention and rouse suspicion. I’ll go talk to him.”

Before he made a move in Taehyung, you placed a hand on his chest to stop him. “No, no, stay here. I’ll go talk to Tae,” you insisted. When Jin opened his mouth to protest, you continued, “You’re better at sweet-talking your way in to getting everyone on your side. You should carry on doing that while I speak with our lovely demolition expert.”

The millionaire contemplated what you said for a few seconds but sighing in defeat. He glanced around him, watching the people around him to see if anyone was spying on you, and took your hand on his chest and gave it a comforting squeeze, as if to wish you luck. “Act like you don’t know him if anyone comes by, and be careful of what you say. We don’t want him ruining the mission.”

You gave him a reassuring nod before turning back toward the lovely, yet rather boring, couples. “Will you excuse me, everyone? I think I’m going to get another glass.” You didn’t wait for their responses as you stormed over to ‘Vante’. Your bewilderment and confusion faded away into anger and frustration. Just what was he trying to pull here?!

You smoothly strode up to his side, rolling your shoulders to readjust your fur shawl. A wave of confidence came over you as you stood next to him and began to examine the painting with him. Of course, the painting was Indian in design, and the image beheld a group of young men and women dancing together in a merry dance with hundreds of flowers surrounding them. The painting was beautiful, to say at the very least. You knew why it was the source of Taehyung’s interest.

“What brings you to this event, Vante?” you spoke aloud, catching his attention from the colorful image. “This isn’t exactly an art gallery.” You turned to stare at him with an enraged and accusatory glare. 

Taehyung’s eyes lit up with recognition as they fell upon you, and his lips quickly formed that boxy smile that would usually have you smiling as well. However, you were too furious to be smiling back at him. “Ms. l/n! I didn’t know you’d be here. If I had known, I would have dressed to impress you,” he admitted, his eyes glinting with a mischievous gleam.

Your eyes quickly took in his attire. He wore a khaki suit that fit him like a glove with a scarlet tie to match. In fact, now that you looked closer, his red tie was the same shade as your dress, meaning that he planned to match his clothing with yours. Cheeky bastard, he already planned this little stunt to begin with! You scowled with a soft growl. “What are you doing here, Taehyung?” you demanded quietly. “You’re supposed to ready to take out the guards with Jimin. That was the plan.”

“And it’s still the plan, sweetcheeks,” he asserted, bringing his attention back to the painting. He remained poised despite the fact that you were ready to rip his head off. “Jimin is going to take care of the guards outside while I take care of the ones in here. I already counted four in this very room at each exit.”

Sure enough, when you broke your gaze away from him, you saw tall men in black suits hanging around each exit of the room, watching each and every visitor with the eyes of a hawk. As much as you hated to admit it, he did have a point. If you managed to get your hands on the kobae, any one of those guards would be waiting to take you down like an adrenaline crazy American football player in a matter of seconds. 

“And do you have any wonderful ideas as to how you’re going to take them out all at once?” you asked bitterly. “The blackout isn’t going to provide you enough time to just knock them all out.”

Taehyung rocked himself back and forth on the heels of his brown leather shoes with an all-too-pleased smile stretched across his lips. “I have a few ideas, in fact,” he answered, swirling his champagne in his glass casually. “The one that will work the most efficiently is where I don’t take them all out, but instead I provide a path for you to escape. I’ve numbered the doors one, two, three, and four respectively.” He lifted his hand to point at the different openings he dubbed in a relaxed manner to avoid any suspicion. “All you have to do is signal me when the lights go out, subtly-” He gave you a pointed look to emphasize the word. “- and then I will incapacitate the guard at that exit.”

You arched an eyebrow in slight surprise. He certainly thought this through. “And if the other guards see you?” you questioned in an austere tone.

“With any luck they’ll be too busy containing the crowds who will be in an absolute panic.” He lifted his glass to his lips and took a thoughtful sip from the light golden liquid.

“Wouldn’t it be suspicious if the others found their fellow guard unconscious?”

“I said I would incapacitate them. That doesn’t mean I’m resorting to violence.” He turned to give you a sly smile, one that caused your stomach to flutter with butterflies and your cheeks to heat up. “There are other ways to distract someone, Ms. l/n.”

No! Don’t get flustered by that goddamn smirk, you cried to yourself. That’s the reaction he wants!

To distract yourself from his smug smirk, you glanced over to the nearest clock to see how much time you had left. It was currently 20:25, and Yoongi said that he was going to cut the wire at 22:30, giving everyone enough time to get a little tipsy and, therefore, unaware of what occurred around them. Ugh, that meant you had to deal with another two hours of this unnecessary bullshit.

Turning back to the situation at hand, you took another look at Taehyung’s attire. He certainly appeared to be very chic and in style. Where on earth did he get the money to buy such a luxurious suit? “So, you chose your disguise to be a famous artist, is that it?” you asked curiously.

Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows in confusion for a few seconds, making you wonder if you said anything strange. Did he actually forget what his cover was? He then began to chuckle in an amused manner, his eyes slightly wrinkling under the smile. “I thought that you worked at an international news company? Shouldn’t you know? I suppose your company only covers stories that affect your country.” When your face slipped into a puzzled expression, he proceeded, “Do you actually think that my main job is to blow stuff up?”

“It… isn’t?” Suddenly, it all clicked together. All the puzzle pieces fell into place. You could barely believe it yourself. How could you be so stupid! “Wait… this isn’t a made-up cover story? You’re actually an artist?” You felt like someone managed to prove to you with factual evidence that the sky was actually green instead of blue. 

His smile broadened as he brought his drink to his lips. “The market doesn’t have many jobs available for demolition experts unfortunately. I have to do something to pay the bills.” He then took a long drink, and you watched his adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed. “Yes, I create paintings, sculptures, and sometimes calligraphy for a living, although the Japanese government keeps pressuring me to create propaganda art for them.” His voice had suddenly turned bitter and harsh as he recalled unwanted memories.

“And the demolition stuff?” you inquired, still in shock with this new information.

“It’s something I do as a hobby,” he revealed, his tone still grim. You weren’t sure if you’d call blowing things up as a hobby, but you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt for once. 

You recalled the memory of Taehyung watching the armored vehicle explode in a blaze of fire and destruction with longing and wonder. You had brushed it off as Taehyung being himself, but now that instance made sense. “I suppose your artistic side comes out in those instances as well.”

“There is a sense of beauty in the destruction of something else. A paradox, I know, but beauty comes in many forms, not only in the creation of an object.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly as your round eyes glanced away. “I guess you learn something new everyday,” you joked. Catching a server walking by with a platter of empty glasses on it, you snuck yours with the others, hoping that your rushed action wouldn’t cause it to stumble and crash to the floor. “The Japanese are making you create propaganda?”

Taehyung snorted with an intense look in his eyes, a hidden fire blazing behind the dark orbs. “I haven’t made anything for them so far, even though my mailbox is full of threats and bribes from them.” His jaw clenched tightly and his grasp on his glass harden.

“They’re sending you threats?!” you exclaimed in a harsh whisper. Just how horrible was this government?

“Against me. Against my family. Against my friends. The list goes on...”

You swallowed back your obvious concern and glanced around before finally saying, “If they’re threatening you and everyone around you, then perhaps the safest route to take is to merely give in to their wishes. After all, you would only have to make posters, right?”

Suddenly he then got very close to you, his teeth gritting and nostrils flaring in an explosive rage. Your heart nearly lept from your chest at his abrupt aggressive nature. Looking into his eyes, you felt like you were staring into the eyes of a man ready to commit murder. In a growled voice, he snarled, “I absolutely refuse to create anything promoting the very government that encourages the sexual slavery, murder, torture, and subjugation of my people as if they were mere pigs being led to the slaughterhouse. They look down their noses at us from their palaces while we grovel in the dirt eating rotten and maggot-filled scrapings. Do you have any idea what it’s like coming home to find your sister on the ground beaten and sobbing because those monsters-”

His furious and hateful tirade was unexpectedly interrupted by the sound of his drink shattering in his hand from how hard his fingers gripped around the delicate glass. The tiny shards exploded and fell to the ground like diamonds glittering in the light. The champagne spilled all over his hand and into a puddle onto the floor.

The crowd surrounding you and Taehyung let out a collected gasp of shock and slight horror. The room became deadly silent, as if the slightest sound would result in the execution of someone. Some of the people parted their lips in shock while others just froze in their spots, watching Taehyung for his next move. You, too, were frozen in your spot from the shock of what just occurred.

Suddenly, Taehyung burst into laughter as if someone just pranked him. To be honest, his outburst only made him more unhinged in your eyes. He gave you a boxy smile before redirecting his attention to the large crowds waiting for an explanation. “These are some flimsy glasses if I ever saw some.” He shook his hand to be rid of the liquid sticking to his clothes and skin. “I guess I don’t know my own strength sometimes.”

The crowds then chuckled amusedly along and soon returned to their conversations while a servant came in with a broom and a few rags to clean up the mess. Taehyung then urged you to move away from the wandering eyes and the mess. You left the area and entered a room where people examined the artifacts that were recovered in the latest archeological dig. You wondered if the kobae was in the very same room.

Once you and Taehyung settled in the room, you smacked him straight in the ribs. The artist stumbled back a step and clutched his side while squeezing his eyes shut for a mere moment. He groaned in pain while you unleashed your fury onto him. “Control yourself, Tae! We don’t need people being wary of us because someone can’t control their emotions!” you scolded, your fists clenched at your sides. “First you act on your own without telling anyone else on the team and then you overreact- Gah!”

During you ranting, you threw your arms in the air in exasperation, and, in doing so, moved your injured arm. Pain sharply shot your arm as if someone dug a knife into the tender muscle. It nearly knocked the air out of your lungs. Your other hand clutched the source of the pain tightly as your eyes slammed shut, your teeth gritting together as small groans of agony slipped through your lips. 

Taehyung instantly went to your side and shielded you away from prying eyes that happened to look your way. All emotions of anger and rage instantly fell from his face and was replaced with deep concern for your well-being. “Y/n!” he whispered worryingly. “Are you okay? Do you need to step outside?”

You inhaled a quick, sharp breath as the pain began to slowly ebb away. Your eyes peeled themselves open reluctantly as your body soon relaxed slightly. “I’m fine,” you replied, exhaling gradually. “I’m just sick of this bloody arm hurting all the time.”

“Just remember not to move it too much,” he reminded, looking around to see if anyone had spied the incident. Once he deemed it to be safe, he turned back and gave you a small smile. “You yell at me for nearly causing a scene due to my anger, but yet you do the exact same thing and end up hurting yourself.”

You huffed annoyedly, mostly because he had a point. “Don’t rub it in,” you grumbled, slowly letting your arm fall to your side. 

His smile grew a tiny bit sadder. “Just be careful, alright? You’re injured enough as it is.”

You nodded slowly, averting your gaze from him. “I will…” Your voice trailed off as your thoughts returned to Taehyung’s small outburst. You never seen eyes so full of rage and fury. Just thinking about them made shivers crawl down your spine. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like living in such horrendous conditions, being treated less than human. He mentioned a sister who was beaten and crying. Your reporter instincts wanted to know the full story behind his sister to get a better understanding of who the demolition expert really was. “About your sister… Whatever happened to her, I’m sorry.”

Taehyung’s features hardened very slightly at the mention of his sister, his cheek catching between his teeth as he bit down on the soft flesh. “Don’t apologize. You had nothing to do with what happened to her.”

“I know.” You paused to sigh quietly to yourself. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He slowly shook his head. “No, at least not now, not when people could hear us.”

You silently agreed with him. Although the champagne flowed from the bottle freely at this point in the gala, the guests hadn’t had quite enough alcohol to dull the senses and their memory yet. Looking at the clock once more, you saw that it read 21:05. You still had quite an amount of time left until the planned blackout. Ugh, why was time moving so painfully slow? 

“So, Ms. l/n,” Taehyung began, feeling the awkward tension rising between the two of you. He must have wanted to change the subject, since obviously the one beforehand was a touchy one. “What about you? What brings a lovely lady like yourself to this event?” Ah, so he wanted to play pretend while there were others around.

Thinking over the words you practiced so many times before coming to this godforsaken gala, you answered with a polite and friendly smile, “I’m working on an article for the Gazette about this exhibit opening and the artifacts found during the archeological dig.”

The artist faked deep interest by quirking up an eyebrow and smiling. “Oh? Doesn’t a journalist need to take notes on names, quotes, and different artifacts here? Or do you supposedly have a good memory?” he questioned innocently. Really? This was how he was going to act?

With an annoyed sigh and an eye roll, you revealed your clutch bag from under your fur shawl and clicked it open. There was no need for any of this. He knew fully well what you had inside your clutch, what was even the point of this? You took out your pocket notebook complete with a pen strapped to its cover and showed it to him while glowering. “I am taking notes from tonight.” That was a lie. The scribblings and writings inside the little notebook were notes taken for a different exhibit opening you were writing for back in London. You were merely using them again for when people began to ask questions… much like this unnecessary moment.

“May I take a look?” he asked, his tone turning slightly playful.

“No,” you flatly replied. Dropping the notebook back into your clutch, you snapped it shut and hid it under your fur shawl once more. Little did people know that along with the notebook and makeup in your clutch, you also had a little pocket pistol in case everything went south. You dearly hoped that you wouldn’t have to resort to using the concealed weapon. “All the information I have in here is confidential until the article is released to the public.” You then sighed exasperatedly from how ridiculous this all was. “Why are you making me do this? You already know everything about this.”

The demolition expert shrugged his shoulders casually, as if you only asked his what his favorite animal was. “Just making sure you remember your lines. After all, like you say, we can’t afford any slip-ups.”

You knew that remembering your lines was the least of your problems. What was at the top of your list was making sure that everyone around you didn’t step out of line. “I practiced my part for hours before coming here. Right now, I’m the least of your worries,” you replied, taking a rather large gulp from your champagne glass.

“Just being cautious.”

“Maybe you should listen to your own advice.”

Taehyung snickered at how blunt and curt you were acting and smoothly took a step toward you. “Speaking of reporters, is there any way I could persuade you to interview me? I have a lot of things I want to say.”

You arched an eyebrow in confusion by his question. “Do you now? Please, share your feelings with me.” In all honesty, you were only playing along for the sake of blending in with the crowd. If it were up to you, you would’ve just plainly refused again.

Taehyung’s smile turned slightly mischievous as he took another step. “For starters, I think there’s a treasure here I think is beautifuller than all the other artifacts combined,” he began.

He must be talking about the kobae, you assumed. “Can you please elaborate for me, Mr. Vante?” you interviewed innocently, completely oblivious to what he was secretly insinuating.

Suddenly, his arms wrapped themselves around your waist, pulling your body against his. A sharp, astonished gasp passed through your lips as you quickly balanced your glass in hand so the bubbly liquid wouldn’t spill over the edges. You felt his warm embrace bundle you up like a curtain of comfort. In an instant, your cheeks burned up with flustered heat. Your eyes were as round as a doe’s eyes as your chest suddenly tightened. 

Taehyung smirked upon seeing your flustered state and hummed to himself in approval. “Well, this beautiful masterpiece dons the most beautiful shade of red. I always did love using red in my own works. It symbolizes power, strength, passion... “ His voice trailed off as he cupped your chin between his thumb and finger and tilted it up to meet his hungry gaze. “Lust…”

“Taehyung…” you whispered, your voice quiet and airy. 

“In fact,” he continued, preventing you from finishing your sentence, “if I seem to recall correctly, I made a promise to you that I haven’t fulfilled yet. Do you remember it, by chance?”

Oh no, you had a feeling you knew what he was talking about…

When you didn’t answer, his smirk widened and his grip on you tightened somewhat. “Judging by your expression, I’d say you do.” He chuckled huskily, his rumbling chest vibrating against your body. “I promised that I’d make you scream my name over and over again. Unfortunately I haven’t exactly kept to my promise because a little someone keeps avoiding me. Why is that?” He brought his face closer to yours as his eyes momentarily flickered down to your lips before bringing them back to meet yours. “Do I really make you that nervous? Do you squirm just at the thought of me?”

Suddenly you sensed many pairs of eyes looming from behind you. Out of the corners of your eye, you noticed how people began to watch you with curious and confused glances. Oh no, no no no, everyone was going to assume the absolute worst if you continued to be held in his arms like a hustler. You quickly pulled away from his grasp, earning a small groan of disappointment. “Mr. Vante, please, I’m engaged,” you protested blatantly, hoping your loud tone would dispel everyone’s assumptions.

Taehyung’s eyebrows shot up at lightning speed, bewilderment etched onto every inch of his face. His lips parted as if to ask for you to elaborate; but before the words could leave his mouth, you gestured to Jin who was loudly laughing at a poor joke someone said. You noticed the smaller group had become larger since you left to confront Taehyung. Damn, Jin really knew how to charm people.

Taehyung relaxed slightly, catching onto what you were insinuating. His stiff posture loosened from the stress that had it taut. A small sigh of relief slipped through his lips in a drawn out breath. In a flash, his composure flipped like a switch. A smile pulled at the corners of his lips, however the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m sure your fiancé wouldn’t notice if we slipped off to an isolated hallway. He seems to be rather busy entertaining others.” He then tutted playfully, his eyes boring into yours with a dark fire smoldering in them. “Leaving his beloved where anyone could snatch her up. How irresponsible of him.”

You swallowed a lump caught in your throat as you snapped your gaze from his, feeling goosebumps raking up and down your arms and spine from the intensity of his eyes. “I don’t need people watching over me,” you retorted in a quiet murmur. “I can take care of myself.”

He hummed thoughtfully at your reply, eyes taking in your appearance. However, he seemed to be taking his time with looking you up and down like you were a wrapped up present waiting to be unraveled. You furrowed your eyebrows, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, and fixed your shawl to that it covered your body more. “What are you doing?” you demanded, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“Just thinking about how lovely you would look with your dress on my bedroom floor and your body underneath me, all needy and whiny and begging me to give you some release.” He chuckled huskily and tilted his head to the side. “Wouldn’t that be a delicious sight?”

He said it so casually that your brain didn’t register it at first until you finally processed his words. In that moment, you exploded in a fit of embarrassment, your cheeks flaring up in a burst of heat. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but you could muster were choked words and stutters. It felt as if all coolness left the room in an instant and was replaced with humid, hot air. You needed to breathe, to get some relief from what he said.

“I- I’m going to find my f-fiancé. I… um…” You stumbled around, unsure of where Jin had wandered off to. Bollocks, where the bloody hell was he when you needed him? With fiery cheeks and sweaty palms, you whipped your body around a few more times before stammering, “I… I’m just going to… yes…” With that, you scurried off like a little mouse.

Taehyung smirked to himself watching you run off so flustered and speechless. Even after Hoseok and Jimin got a taste of you, you were still so innocent and cute when faced with such sensual whisperings. Oh yes, he knew all about your little escapades with those two. He past by your door waiting for Hoseok to leave so he could fulfill his promise; but instead he heard the breathy moans and cries of pleasure through your door, and so he decided to let Hoseok have a little fun with you before his turn. He was a patient man, after all.

However, he was quite surprised to see you and Jimin on the couch in a heated makeout session the next morning. He shouldn’t have been so shocked. Naturally, when Jimin wanted something, he wasn’t going to wait idly by. He was going to go after it. Taehyung could still see the face you made when Jimin kissed you just right, and the moans, oh, the moans were like music to his ears. The image of you writhing in the pleasure that Jimin was giving you, oh, that was art. He remembered palming himself secretly while watching Jimin mark your beautiful skin. How he wanted to paint your skin with the most beautiful colors. Maybe he will later tonight when you two are alone, that is, if everyone is still alive then.

You fanned yourself with much fervor, needing the nice breeze that you were producing to cool down your hot skin. Your mind replayed Taehyung’s words over and over again. What game was he playing? Was he trying to get you to have a heart-attack? Why did he insist to make your heart pound in your chest and your nerves to go sky-rocketing into the atmosphere?

You weaved through the crowds like a needle weaving through fabrics until you miraculously caught sight of Jin. You thanked God and then quickly made your way over to him. You hoped that the heat in your cheeks died down and your appearance didn’t show how flustered you were. The last thing you needed right now was Jin and Jungkook to whisper teasing remarks in your ear. 

“Darling!” you called out, a bright smile replacing the bashful and embarrassed expression that was etched onto your face moments ago. 

Jin turned around at the sound of your voice and gave you a cheerful smile of his own. Seeing him with such a warm smile on his face made your anxious nerves instantly die down. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that he was pretending to be your soon-to-be husband? Jin wandered away from the group to take your hand in his. “How is my dear doing this evening?” he asked considerately before placing a sweet kiss on your hand.

“I am doing splendidly,” you answered, your heart fluttering ever-so-slightly at his action. “There’s someone I think you should meet, darling.” You weren’t referring to Taehyung, but you just needed the excuse to pull him away from the crowds so you could fill him in on what the artist disclosed to you.

“Really? Well, if you insist.” He quickly turned back to the people he just became friends with and bid them farewell before following you through the crowds. Jungkook followed as well subtly, not drawing any unwanted attention to himself, as according to the plan.

Once you were away from the large crowds, you revealed to the millionaire, “Tae just told me that he’s here to take care of the guards inside so that they don’t get in the way when we make our move.”

Jin rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly. His jaw clenched for a mere moment as his lips tightened into a thin line. He really was going to give Taehyung a ranting or two when this was all over. “It would’ve been nice if he informed everyone first instead of going off on his own,” he grumbled, his hand smoothing back his hair.

You had to admit, he looked really nice with his hair slicked back.

You nodded your head in agreement, ignoring that absent-minded thought that blossomed into your mind. “I think so, too, but just be happy that he didn’t decide to ditch the plan.”

Jin scoffed humorlessly. “That would’ve been the cherry on top, wouldn’t it be?”

Jungkook suddenly butted into your conversation and said, “Look! The kobae!”

Both of your heads snapped in the direction Jungkook was looking. You eyes were met with the sight of a simple, wide, stone bowl sitting on a pedestal with guests merely looking at it for a second before directing their attention to the artifacts. You didn’t know what you were expecting, to be honest. You knew that a bowl this old wouldn’t be exactly magnificent, but you certainly weren’t expecting it to be so… plain.

“Perfect,” Jin spoke up, snapping you from your thoughts. “We just need to get into position and wait for the blackout.” 

Jin then ushered to you to where the plan called for you two to stand, in a corner nearby two exits where the two of you could easily make your escape. Anxiety bubbled within your stomach, causing you to feel slightly nauseous. No slip-ups. No mistakes. Otherwise, that was it. It was all over.

“Mr. Kaneki, is that you?”

The hand that was gripping yours suddenly tightened, as if something scared your partner. You looked up to Jin to see his eyes as round as saucer plates. He was deadly still, as if the slightest movement would result in his execution. A shaky, quiet breath passed through his lips as his hand slowly trembled in yours. For a mere moment, you thought you saw his fearful eyes water up with concealed tears. 

“Jin?” you murmured quietly, your voice laced with deep concern. What made him so scared? “You looked like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Not a ghost, a demon.” His eyes flickered to Jungkook subtly. “You need to hide.”

Jungkook nodded without a protest and quickly exited the scene, blending in with the crowds like a chameleon blending into its surroundings. Just like that, your bodyguard slipped away from your sights. By God, did that boy certainly know how to sneak away.

Jin suddenly turned around and replaced his terror with a polite and friendly mask. You tried your best to match his mask, but the confusion was very apparent on your face. “Mr. Akimoto! What a pleasant surprise! I never would have expected you to be here.”

An older man, who was a bit shorter than Jin, stood before you, and your heart sank in the deepest pits of dread upon seeing him. Based off of his appearance and Jin’s cryptic comment, you assumed that the man hailed from Japan, and the uniform he wore with great pride revealed that this man was a governmental official. Not only this, but he wasn’t alone. Four other men wearing the same bloody uniform stood by his side with curious looks on their wrinkled faces.

Fucking bollocks, God must really have something against you.

Mr. Akimoto arched an eyebrow in confusion and hidden agitation, as if Jin was a rude, spoiled brat who pointed out his balding head to everyone. “I was about to ask you the very same thing. I wasn’t informed that you were out of the country,” he acknowledged, his tone grim.

Jin, however, remained pleasant despite the obvious contempt the man held against him. “Really? Perhaps the paperwork I signed hasn’t transferred yet?” An obvious lie.

“Are you suggesting that the government is incompitant, Mr. Kaneki?” Mr. Akimoto demanded, his jaw clenched tightly.

The millionaire smiled courteously, although it was slightly strained, and replied, “Of course not, Mr. Akimoto. Forgive me for my disrespect.”

Mr. Akimoto nodded brusquely, a hum rumbling in his throat similar to a snake’s hiss. “You are forgiven, chōsenjin.” He then glanced over to you, looking at you as if you were an annoyance and nuisance. You didn’t know what, but the few seconds you shared staring at each other felt like you were staring into the eyes of a viper. Any moment he could lash out and bury his fangs into you. “And who is this young woman you have with you?”

Although his question was polite, you knew the meaning behind it was not. He might as well have called you a whore or a complete waste of space. “I’m Ms. l/n, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you introduced yourself with a slight bow of the head. 

“She is with me as my accompaniment,” Jin explained curtly immediately after your introduction. You figured that was his way of saying ‘don’t tell them anything else’.

Mr. Akimoto raised his eyebrows in complete surprise, his aged forehead wrinkling deeply. “Ah, I did not know a man of such… stock would be making an appearance to this gala. And mixing with a foreigner no less. How brave of you,” he replied, looking you both up and down.

Well, shite, Mr. Akimoto certainly wasn’t worried about possibly offending anyone. Anger bubbled within you and rushed through your veins like hot fire. How dare he say such rude and insulting words to Jin! And to you, nevertheless! What, were you cattle in his eyes? Oh, how you wanted to slap the old bastard across the face before strangling him. You, however, contained your anger by slowly exhaling through your nose quietly, releasing all the tension that began to build up within you. 

“You know me, gentlemen,” he began, lightly gesturing to the others at Akimoto’s side, “I was never one to be afraid to do what I want.” His grip on your hand tightened, but this time it wasn’t from fear. Rather, you could sense the smoldering fury that ready to suddenly explode.

“Such arrogance could be your downfall, Mr. Kaneki,” the old fart remarked. “If I were in your position, I’d be more watchful of myself.”

“I don’t view it as arrogance, Mr. Akimoto,” you suddenly cut in, keeping your tone light and genteel. “Rather, I believe that we should have more men like Mr. Kim, men who are determined and dauntless.”

For a few seconds, you and Mr. Akimoto held each other’s gaze, both full of contempt and hidden rage. The stronger and fiercer his gaze pierced yours, you merely intensified your own glare, icy and cold like a blizzard. The longer you stood in his presence, the more you wanted to bash his face with a nearby chair. You knew, from what Jin had told you, that the Japanese government was full of self-righteous and prejudiced men who looked down on the Korean people that they subjugated under their wills, but you couldn’t get over the fact that they said such horrible things without a second thought. Did they really think so low of those who were not of their own nation?

Suddenly, a plate bearing several glasses of champagne appeared in front of your face held by a smiling, cheerful waiter. “Would any of you like some more champagne?” he asked in a chirper tone. 

“Yes, please,” Jin almost groaned as he quickly snatched up a glass. 

Without even a moment of hesitation, he took a large, prolonged gulp of the golden liquid. You watched his adam’s apple bob in his throat as he nearly downed the entire glass. You supposed the millionaire was under an extreme amount of stress currently and desperately needed something to take the edge off. 

At the rate Jin was draining his glass, you figured someone needed to stay somewhat sober. After all, you already had enough alcohol in your system thanks to the stress Taehyung put you under. You politely declined the waiter’s request, and the young man kindly bowed his head before scurrying off to satisfy another’s needs. Your eyes followed him weaving through the crowds before the rude, old man caught your attention by saying, “I’m afraid to say that your partner no longer goes by the name Kim Seokjin.” Although his gaze was still hard, you didn’t fail to notice the faintest hint of a smug smirk on his dry, thin lips.

What? What the bloody hell was he talking about? You brought your attention to Jin’s face, bewilderment and shock written all over your face. His face held a stoic expression, although you noted the dull gleam of grief and anguish in his eyes. He swallowed hard, as if he were swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill. However, he remained strong.

“I noticed you kept calling him Mr. Kaneki,” you reluctantly commented, finally tearing your gaze away from Jin’s.

“Yes, I’m sure that you know about how Korea conceded to Japan a few years back. Since Korea is now apart of the Japanese empire, we believe that its citizens should also take on Japanese traits. We’re trying to experiment with having Korean citizens change their names to fit our language. That way we avoid any confusion and conflict with customs and laws,” he explained with a content smile on his aged face. “I personally oversaw Mr. Kaneki’s process to change his name. In governmental and medical documentation his name is Kaneki Daiki.”

You nodded your head in understanding followed by a pleasant smile. However, inside a storm of fury and horror rage within you. You couldn’t believe your ears. The government was forcing people to change their names just so it fitted their needs? What kind of misanthropic, dictatorial, fanatical person would come up with something so tyrannical?!

“Ah, I see,” you responded, pouring all of your willpower into trying to not grab your pistol from your clutch and placing a bullet right in between his eyes. “I’ll try to remember that in the future.”

“Yes, if you please excuse us,” Jin began, already guiding you away from the group of despicable men, “there are some friends I haven’t spoken to yet and I wish to do so before it gets late.”

“Of course, I almost forgot. I heard that your colleague Kim Namjoon is here, as well as that rebellious Kim Taehyung,” he jeered venomously, but then recomposed himself to a more civilized manner. “If you do happen to come across any of them, please inform us as soon as possible.” His expression then darkened as did his eyes. “You know it is your civic duty.”

“I wouldn’t even think of anything else,” Jin replied before sweeping you away from the pit of snakes. A long, tired sigh slipped through his lips as exhaustion settled on his beautiful features. His long legs quickly carried the two of you away with you almost stumbling behind. “That was too close.”

“I thought you covered up our tracks!” you panickedly whispered. “What are Japanese officials doing here at an exhibit opening?”

“I did!” Jin snapped harshly, his grip squeezing your hand almost painfully. “I… I don’t know how they found out we’re here. But what I do know is that we need to find Namjoon and Taehyung and warn them before they do right now.”

You frantically looked around for the historian, or even the artist at this point, your head jerking around in a panicked manner. “I haven’t seen Namjoon all night,” you notified him, and then a sudden thought popped into your mind.Your heart was suddenly sent racing as panic settled upon your being. “What about Jungkook? What if they find him?”

“Shit, I almost forgot about him.” He downed the remainings of his drink before placing it on an empty plate nearby. His hand rake itself through his hair as the stress began to weigh down on him. “If they find Kookie, then we’ll end up attending a public execution.”

Your eyes then blown up to the size of plates as your lips parted in alarm. Execution?! 

However, before you demand him to clarify, he pulled you into another room, almost full to the brim with people you could care less for at the moment. All your mind could focus on was the well-being of Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jungkook. Your eyes scoured through the crowds for any familiar faces, but all you could see was men and ladies dressed in ridiculous outfits and bedecked in gaudy jewelry. You were ready to shove someone to the side in desperation for the others.

Your heart pounded in your chest as your mind began to imagine the worst. You tried to shove those negative thoughts to the side, but that only made your anxiety worse. What if they were already captured by those men? What if they were already dead in some alley?

“I can’t believe they made you change your name!” you exclaimed. You needed something, anything, to distract yourself from imagining the dead bodies of the boys you’ve grown so close to. Even if the sudden topic brought back painful memories to Jin.

Jin paused his frantic rush through the crowds, his eyes peering around for any of the other boys. “‘Experimenting’, please, they left me with no fucking choice. It was either I changed my name or they executed me for treason,” he growled, his tone suddenly spiteful.

“They were going to execute you?!” you nearly cried out. 

There was a pause followed by a sigh. “That’s what happens when you start asking too many questions.”

Now instead of worrying about the others, your mind was suddenly concerned for Jin’s safety. What if those men decided to arrest Jin? For Christ’s sake, all of this stress was going to result in a heart-attack! “Asking questions about what?” you demanded, your eyes now trained on his back.

“I…” He stopped and looked into your eyes. You saw the desperation and agony that stormed in his eyes like a hurricane. He opened his mouth, wanting to spill everything to you, wanting to confide in you, wanting for you to wrap him up in comfort. But… not now…  he couldn’t. “I’ll explain everything to you later. Right now we need to focus on the others.”

“Jin!” you protested, ignoring the confused glances you were from everyone around you. 

“They didn’t like what I was doing. They needed to get rid of me. They needed to erase everything about me. They wanted to make me disappear. They took everything away from me, y/n… my family, my titles, my name… my identity… who I am...” He suddenly began panting heavily as if he just ran a marathon. At first, you figured it was from the amount of stress that was tumbling within him.

However, when he abruptly pulled you to the side into a dark hallway away from the lively crowds, you knew something was wrong. His footing became ragged and he stumbled all over the place, as if a haze of dizziness settled upon him. His ran another hand through his hair as his head lolled from side to side. Something wasn’t right.

He then suddenly pulled you forward and threw you against the wall. You yelped as your back came in contact with the cold, wooden wall. He then placed both of his hands on each side of your head, trapping you against the wall. Your round eyes bore into his half-lidded, hazy eyes. For a moment, you were afraid he would try to hurt you again, but instead, he pressed his sweaty forehead against yours. 

His hot, ragged breath fanned your face as his head began to lower slightly. As you angled your head to get a better view of his face, you noticed how unfocused and clouded his eyes were, as if he were trapped in a daze. What was going on? What was wrong with him? Was he sick? Was the anxiety of the whole situation getting to him? “Jin…?”

“Y/n…” he sighed, his hands slipping down until they met your shoulders. He then gripped your upper arms, as if he needed something to keep him upright. He inhaled and exhaled for the next few moments, his head dropping slowly before he would force it to rise again. All color to his smooth skin vanished and was now as white as snow. A coating of sweat gathered on his forehead and drops if it ran down his temples and the sides of his face. His hazy eyes finally contact with yours as his eyelids began to sink. “Something… something isn’t right.”

“Yeah, no, I can see that!” you exclaimed, feeling your own anxiety beginning to rise. “What do you need? Water? Air? Damnit, I knew we should’ve brought Hobi with us!”

A sigh escaped his lips as his face slowly contorted into that of pain. “I feel… I feel…” His head flopped to the side before he quickly brought it back up. “I don’t feel so good…” He stumbled for a few moments as if all of the muscles in his legs disappeared. You then saw an emotion flicker in his eyes for a long pause. Desperation. “Help… me…” With that, his eyes rolled to the back of his skull, and he lost all control of his muscles. He tipped forward, his lips brushing against yours for a mere seconds before he dropped to the floor.

You cried out in alarm as your arms shot out and hooked themselves under his armpits, preventing his skull from cracking against the marble floor. A sharp shot of pain ran up your injured arm like lightning, and you let out a loud groan of pain from how your arm throbbed. You groaned more as you strained to keep his body from collapsing as you slowly laid him out on the floor, his head resting against your lap.

Your eyes widened in complete and utter panic as your breathing began as ragged as his just moments before. This was bad. This was really bad. Jin was unconscious. You didn’t have Hoseok to check on him. What if he was dying? Maybe he just had a heart-attack or a stroke or some organ just failed? Your mind raced with a hundred different possibilities as tears began to well up in your eyes. This was all too much. All of the anxiety you faced throughout the night just continued to build up until this very moment where it exploded like a volcano. You couldn’t handle all of this.

A small, choked sob escaped your throat as you looked up toward the exit of the hallway, where a beam of light from where the festivities were still ongoing shone through like a drop of sunlight. Where was everybody? Wasn’t Jungkook supposed to here to prevent this very thing from happening?! Where the bloody hell was Namjoon? You haven’t seen the wanker all night?! And Taehyung? Where was he?!

“Help me! Someone please help me!” you screeched, tears pouring down your cheeks. “My fiancé is unconscious! Please someone help him!” 

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, as if all the air in your lungs had suddenly vanished. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t do anything. Was this a panic attack? Were you in the midst of a panic attack? Or were you merely going through shock?

“Help me!!!”

You saw a shadowy figure come through the hallway at the sound of your cry. You instantly recognized the maroon dress and black heels. Ms. Hopkins. Oh thank God someone heard you.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, her eyes as nearly as big as yours. In an instant, she ran back inside and began shouting, although you couldn’t exactly hear what she was yelling. You supposed it was a good thing Jin forced you to socialize.

Your mind drowned out her yelling and the laughter coming from the other room, because all you could focus on was Jin. Despite falling unconscious and collapsing, he looked so peaceful, as if he was only resting from a long day at work. You brushed some of the strands of hair that had fallen into his face and tuck it behind his ear. His beautiful face was only visible by the dim light that poured in from the other room, but you could still make out every feature.

A group of people started to flood the hallway, all concerned with your fiancé’s well-being. You would’ve let them take Jin to the nearest hospital, but what happened in the next moment changed your mind. 

The light coming from the other room suddenly disappeared like someone snuffing out a candle, and everything went pitch black.

Bollocks, it was the blackout. It was time.

Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks! Shit! Damnit! This couldn’t have happened at a worse time! The others were expecting either you or Jin to obtain the kobae, and only Namjoon would grab it if either of you were unable to. You had a codeword picked out to let him know that he had to snatch it quickly, but you were unsure if you could notify him in time.

Determination suddenly enveloped your whole being as your anxiety soon began to subside and ebb away. You flew to your feet and left Jin behind for the doctors and nurses to fumble with. You knew this was what Jin would’ve wanted you to do. First, you needed to somehow notified Namjoon that Plan B was in motions, then you needed to find Jungkook and tell him that Jin needs help getting out of here, and finally you needed Taehyung to provide an opening for Namjoon to slip through. Ugh, this wasn’t going to be easy.

You slipped through the doorway leading you to the exhibit once your vision had finally adjusted to the darkness. Everyone was in a complete panic from the sudden lack of slight and were rushing to get out. The guards at each entrance and exit were trying their best to calm the guests down and keep them in the room. However, their methods weren’t exactly proving to be successful.

You wandered through the darkness, once in awhile bumping into the other guests and visitors. You mumbled quick apologies as you tried to look for a familiar face. However, the lack of light was making things very difficult for you. You might as well be wandering around with a blindfold over your eyes.

Okay, this wasn’t working, time to resort to your next option. You lifted your head in the air and cup your hands around your mouth and screamed over the cries and loud voices, “Fire!!!”

You didn’t know exactly why the boys wanted that word to be the codeword, but you figured it was because it would throw the other guests into a bigger panic, causing more mayhem and creating a bigger exit for everyone. And you were right. Everyone began to scream and howl in fright and tried to barrel through the exits with the strength of a cowherd.

Hopefully, Namjoon heard your cries and was already making his way to the kobae. You were praying to God that everything would turn out alright, despite the fact that one of the boys was unconscious in a hallway surrounded by strangers. Speaking of Jin, you needed to find Jungkook as soon as possible. He was the only person available who could carry Jin out of here.

You pushed your way through the crowds, yelling Jungkook’s name over and over again over everyone’s shouting. You stumbled over your heels and decided to kick them off. You were a lot faster without them anyway, and hopefully that meant you could find Jungkook quicker. 

Suddenly an arm shot out and grabbed your upper arm harshly. You yelped and brought your other hand up to smack whoever decided to snag you like a creep. However, before you could plant your palm against the stranger’s face, you were pulled into his chest and his lips were suddenly against your ear. “Y/n, relax, it’s only me.”

Oh thank the Lord. Jungkook.

“I’ve been looking all over for you!” you hissed in reply, itching to smack him anyway. His lips on your ear made you squirm in his grasp. Didn’t this boys know your ears and neck were extremely sensitive?

“I could say the same to you,” he whispered. He pulled his lips away to search for your partner; but when the millionaire was nowhere in sight, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and slight concern. He snapped his head back to you. “Where is hyung?”

“Exactly why I’ve been looking for you!” You sighed and ran your hands through your hair. “Jin is unconscious. I don’t know how, but he’s lying in a hallway and I need you to get him out of here right now.”

Jungkook sputtered in shock as his round eyes widened even further. “What?! What happened?!”

“I don’t know! But you need to get him to Hoseok. Right. Now.”

Jungkook stared at you for a few seconds. Even through the darkness you could see some light softly reflect off of his dark eyes. Any other time, you would’ve found this to be somewhat romantic, string into each other’s eyes, ignoring everything happening around you. However, this wasn’t a romance novel; this was reality. And right now, reality is screaming at you to find Taehyung.

“Go.” You ushered Jungkook toward the hallway you burst from and ran off to find the artist. 

You figured finding Taehyung would be the easiest objective out of the rest, since you knew what he looked like and where he last was, but it turned out the be far more difficult than you expected. Of course Taehyung would turn out to be the most difficult. When wasn’t he difficult?

You bumped into a lady who screamed rather loudly, grabbing everyone’s attention toward her. You wanted to strangle her for being overdramatic, but you just pushed past her and continued trudging through the crowds. When this was all over, you were going to take a much needed bath and relax.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted when another hand roughly grabbed you by the shoulder. You weren’t quite as surprised since this just happened seconds ago, after all, you finally found Taehyung. “Taehyung! Finally! Where have you been? I thought you were by the exits!”

“So you do know Kim Taehyung…”

You instantly froze, your blood running cold like ice in your veins. That wasn’t Taehyung.

“Mr. Akimoto…” you gasped. Shite, you needed to get away from him. This could only end in disaster. You tried to rip your shoulder from his grasp, but, man, for an old coot, he had an iron grip.

“You know, I got a report from one of my men that he caught sight of Kim Taehyung in a forest near Darjeeling with a British woman. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this?” 

Your eyes widened in surprise. He was behind the raid? Bollocks, you were right again. This was going to be a disaster. 

When you didn’t answer, he continued venomously, “I should’ve known, and if you’re here with Mr. Kaneki, then that means he’s also apart of this conspiracy.” His slimey voice trailed off as he sighed in disappointment, like a father would when he found out his son got detention again. “Why am I not surprised? It’s a good thing I had him incapacitated then.” His grip tightened on your shoulder to the point that it was becoming painful. “I should’ve had him executed a long time ago.”

Now in the books you’ve been reading lately, when the lady is in the clutches of the antagonist, she usually does one of two things. She either slams the heel of her shoe into his foot and slips away, or she slaps him across the face and makes a dash for it. Now you didn’t have your shoes on anymore, and your good arm was currently in the clutches of Mr. Akimoto, and you really didn’t want to injure your bad arm any further than you already have. So, what could you do?

In the matter of mere moments, your instincts took over again and you did the first thing that came to mind. You brought your knee up and slammed it into the old man’s groin with as much strength as you could muster. Mr. Akimoto yelled in pain and instantly released your arm. You had to admit, it felt really good to finally cause the man some pain.

You ran away from the Japanese official before he or any of his men could grab you again. In a flash, you decided to abandon your quest to find Taehyung. Instead, you raised your head once more and shouted, “Door three!” You noticed that that door had the least amount of congestion from the crowds of people and would provide Namjoon with the perfect escape. You prayed again that Taehyung heard you and was already on his way to take care of the guard.

You knew that the demolition expert told you to signal him subtly, but… subtlety be damned! You needed to get out with Jin right now before you got killed by the Japanese! 

You rushed back to the hallway, lifting up your skirts as your bare feet padded against the stone floor. Your heart pounded in your chest from all the running you’ve been doing these past few minutes. You slipped through the doorway and almost collided into the man you just ran into minutes prior from this whole catastrophe. You yelped and grasped at the man’s shirt until you realized you were tugging onto Jungkook. “Oh thank God, did you find Jin?” you demanded. However, your question was instantly answered when you noticed a large lump thrown over Jungkook’s shoulder. 

“Yes, yes, he’s right here!” Jungkook replied and took a step around you, trying to slip back into the exhibits.

“Wait! Jungkook!” You tugged him by the shirt once more and dragged him back into the hallway. You couldn’t go back out there, not with Mr. Akimoto searching for your blood! “No, no, no! We’re going this way!” 

Jungkook stammered as he was yanked back into the dark hallway. “But the plan-!”

“To hell with the plan! That Japanese wanker is out there trying to kill us! We need another way out!” you argued, searching through the darkness for a door. 

“My pocket!” Jungkook jutted out his hip toward you, and you stood there in confusion for a few seconds. “There should be a lighter in there.”

“Thank God you’re so prepared,” you sighed in relief before shoving your hand down his pocket. Normally, you would’ve flushed at the thought of putting your hand in his pocket, but right now you could care less. The situation was dire, and you needed light.

Once your hand came into contact with metal, you pulled your hand out in flash and opened up the lighter before repeatedly pushing down on the flint, watching sparks shoot out in every direction, before a small flame finally came into existence. You could’ve cried from joy in that moment, but you knew you needed to focus on the task at hand. 

“And then there was light,” you lightly joked. What, someone needed to make the jokes since Jin couldn’t at the moment. Once you saw the annoyed look on Jungkook’s face, you cleared your throat awkwardly and said, “Okay, let’s try to find another exit.”

You began to walk away when Jungkook responded, “I looked at some of the maps with Yoongi when he was studying the building’s wiring. I think I know of an exit around here somewhere.”

“Jungkook, you are a godsend.” You thanked to whoever was listening in that moment that Jungkook was at your side. Otherwise you would’ve been wandering around these halls with an unconscious Jin until the police found you and arrested the both of you.

“I know I am. Anyway, I think we need to turn left.”

You followed Jungkook’s instructions and went down every hall he directed you. To be honest, you wondered for a few seconds if Jungkook was as equally lost as you were. You only wondered this because every hallway looked exactly like the previous three that you all walked down. All the halls has white wallpaper with Victorian looking furniture and adornments on the sides. 

Chills ran down your spine as you walked down the silent and dark hallways with only a small, warm flame to guide your path. You didn’t know why, but walking down these halls made you feel as if you were in some horror genre book that you loved to read. At any moment, you felt like someone or something was ready to pop out and scare you.

And someone did pop out indeed.

As you made a turn to the right according to Jungkook’s instructions, your face almost ran smack into another chest. You yelped and jumped back, ready to scold whoever decided to scare you like that. However, your heart lurched to your throat when you recognized the man to be one of the men who was as Mr. Akimoto’s side. He must’ve been sent by the old snake to track you down and kill you, because in that moment he brandished a knife, the cold metal reflecting the warm light in silver gleams.

However, before he could make a move against you, all of your logic and reason were thrown out the nearest window. You decked the man straight in the jaw as hard as you could before your mind could even process what you were doing. You heard a satisfying crack in the man’s jaw before he collapsed to the floor with a groan. Bloody hell, you seemed to be getting used to all of this action.

You turned around to face Jungkook, who was staring at you with round, rabbit-like eyes. His jaw went slack at the display before him, as if he couldn’t believe what his eyes just saw. You also stood there dumbfounded for a few moments, your hand still clenched tightly into a hard fist. “I think the adrenaline is still rushing through me,” you remarked a little too calmly, despite your shocked expression.

“Yeah, I’d say,” he replied before ushering you along the final hallway.

You practically ran to the door before you and flung it open with all of your strength. Cool air hit your hot skin as if someone dumped a bucket of icy cold water onto you. It was a nice refresher from all of the chaos you just endured. However, you couldn’t take the moment to appreciate the cool night air, because you needed to get into the getaway van as soon as possible. You just hoped that it happened to be somewhere nearby and not a block away. That would be the cherry on top…

“Jimin should’ve taken care of the guards that are around here…” Your voice trailed off as your eyes located an unconscious body lying in the nearby bushes. Sure enough, Jimin did his part of the job and he did it according to what everyone agreed, unlike a certain someone.

“Yeah, but where’s the van?” Jungkook demanded, his head whipping around to locate the black van just as Yoongi described.

Damnit, Yoongi, where was the van? You looked around as well, your nerves suddenly shooting off again for what seemed to be the millionth time that night. “It should be right around… there!” You jabbed a finger when your eyes finally landed upon the sleek, black van parked a few meters away from the commotion that was going on in the museum.

Jungkook nodded and quickly readjusted Jin on his shoulder so that he wouldn;t fall off accidentally. “Alright, let’s get moving, now.”

You didn’t question him as you ran as fast as your legs could carry you to the van, ignoring the shooting pains in your feet from the rough surface that was digging into the soft, tender padding underneath. All you cared about, besides Jungkook and Jin’s safety, was getting into that van as fast as humanly possible.

When finally reached the van, you ripped the back doors open and threw yourself in, not caring about the people you landed on. You practically crawled inside as Jungkook settled Jin on the van floor carefully before quickly scurrying inside. A chorus of concerned voices rang out as they saw Jin’s body before them, demanding what happened and if he was alright. Hoseok, who was sitting in the passenger’s seat, hopped to the back to get to work on Jin, his medical bag already at his side and opened up. 

You placed a hand over your heart as you finally began to settle down. Your body had been going through constant anxiety for hours, and now that it was all over. You could finally relax. However, you began to notice that all of this constant panic and anxiety had taken a toll on your body. For as soon as you began to calm down, your vision soon started to darken. You supposed this was your body’s way of telling you that it was shutting down from all the excitement and that you needed rest.

“Y/n…? Are you alright?” you recognized Namjoon’s voice asked you.

You would’ve given the historian a piece of your mind for disappearing the entire night, but you were far too exhausted to bring yourself to do so. Maybe you would do it once you had the energy to. Instead, you weakly raised you head, looked him straight in the eyes with such earnestness, and said, “Never. Again.”

With that, you slouched back into your seat and passed out, letting the comforting darkness overtake you.

#bts #bts x reader #ot7 #ot7 x reader #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts au fanfic #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #treasure hunter au #indiana jones au #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #trash

[starlene]

Scratch the thing I just said about being pretty chill about theatre nowadays.

A rant about a production of Les Misérables I saw back in 2011.

You know how, no matter how many years it’s been, some performances just stay with you?

There are a couple of things in my theatrical past that will forever make my blood clot, and @darkbluesinamay mentioning Malmö Opera’s Les Misérables just reminded me of one of them – the worst Jean Valjean I have ever had the displeasure of seeing.

Usually, I tend to avoid dragging actors too much, because in most cases, they’re doing their best even if they’re woefully miscast. But Dan Ekborg as Jean Valjean... oh man, he was the worst. With a different characterisation, his voice could have been bearable, but his acting and attitude... just no. No!!

Maybe I’ll just share an excerpt from his interview in the souvenir programme (by Catarina Ek, English translation by me).

Interviewer [on Valjean getting out of prison and the Bishop giving him the candlesticks]: “But is it so simple? Does Valjean become a good man now?”

Ekborg: “No way does Valjean become good that fast! No one is just good or just evil. Just see how Valjean first becomes the owner of a place of slavery, a factory where they work on an assembly line. He’s the one who benefits the most from his own upward social mobility. He looks the other way when Fantine is being abused by the factory foreman. His goodness comes and goes. And what is goodness, anyway? Later on, it’s like he keeps Cosette in a cage. He tries to be good to her but overprotects her instead. He lies to her and doesn’t tell her the truth about her childhood. The bad parts [of Valjean’s personality] are still there – for a long time – and I try to show that as much as possible. It’s this contradiction that makes the character interesting, Valjean’s double nature.”

Like, yes, if you look at it on the surface level, that’s kinda what’s going on, I guess (though I think the place of slavery thing is a bit a lot much). Too bad that there was nothing else to Ekborg’s performance, though!

It was awful. When you take this super cynical view of the character and take it up to eleven, removing love and warmth and honest desire to become a better person from the equation altogether, the audience is going to have a really hard time sympathising with Jean “Dark & Edgy” Valjean – which is a huge problem when you remember Les Mis is like five hours long and he is the goddamn protagonist. If you actively hate him, the runtime is going to feel a lot longer than it otherwise might.

This was by far not the only problem with the production, director Ronny Danielsson had an altogether... unique vision – but even so, Ekborg’s performance was so thoroughly unpleasant, I my stomach still feels weird when I think about it.

I saw the show with two people who were quite a lot less critical about theatre in general than I am. I don’t blame myself for not being to shut up for the rest of the trip, though – by then, I don’t think I had ever been this harshly let down by a piece of theatre, I was completely shaken and had to vent it out of my inexperienced system. I think in the end, all of us had a bad time, but for different reasons.

I need to stop thinking about this now.

It was a theatrical experience packed with such potent dark energies that even now, nine years later, I think the memories might cause me to develop a case of rabies if I’m not careful.

#Fred Johanson's Javert deserved so much better #getting mad about Les Mis anno domini 2020? it's more likely than you think #Nordic Les Mis

[i-am-snowils-admiral]

Slip Away

Someone in a discord told me to do Izuku angst with a bit of vigilantism so have some.

This is just blatant dadzawa-adopts-kids-off-the-street-at-random have fun with it.

1960 words, also on Ao3

---

He’s been chasing the kid for a few months now.

If he’d been taking it seriously, he’d be in custody by now. The kid was young, inexperienced, and nowhere near as difficult to capture as most villains. For a vigilante, he wasn’t terrible, taking out small crime here and there, seemingly with nothing more than his wits and a crowbar, but there was something about him that made it obvious he had no idea what he was doing.

That was the problem, though. He was skittish, distrustful. Shouta had only ever seen him on the street, and he constantly looked underfed and dirty. He probably lived in one of these alleyways. There was a part of him that wanted to just grab the kid by surprise and drag him back to the station, where Naomasa could either find his parents or shuffle him into the foster system, but he’d done that before and it hadn’t gone well. There was a look in the kid’s eyes that was too familiar.

Hitoshi had run away from three different homes before he figured out what that look meant. Trust wasn’t something that came naturally, and the kid would just end up in the streets again if he didn’t do this slowly.

He’d complained to Hizashi about the situation extensively, ranting over the phone (as much as it could be considered ranting) about how the kid just kept slipping away from him every time he thought he was getting somewhere. Hizashi had taken to calling him Slip in response, and as a person who was terrible at naming things, Shouta couldn’t help but feel it was accurate. To both his slippery nature and his small size.

Slip wasn’t strong. He stuck to resolving the smaller, more common crimes, and didn’t like drawn-out fights. If he didn’t knock out his target within the first few minutes, he pulled back and contacted the police.

Unlike Shouta’s students, he seemed to have some knowledge of his limits.

He had learned, though, with Shouta’s help. Shouta had met the young vigilante about six months ago, arriving at the scene of a crime just in time to see him disappear deeper into the alleyway, and the kid just kept showing up. He didn’t talk to him at first. As they encountered each other more often, he started staying on-site after the take-downs, but it wasn’t until Shouta had to re-locate his shoulder after a particularly brutal fight with a mugger that he had finally received a quiet “thanks.”

It was unclear how old he was. His figure and voice suggested that he was young, but in this quirked society, those aspects didn’t mean as much as they would have otherwise. The way that he spoke and acted definitely pointed towards early to mid teens, though. Shouta had alerted Naomasa of the situation, and politely asked for permission to handle it on his own time.

He couldn’t make that mistake again. The cost had almost been too high.

Their first actual interaction had been about the punching. Slip used his crowbar almost exclusively, relying on the strength of the weapon to make up for his lack of muscle mass, but on one particular fight, it had been knocked out of his hands. Instead of pulling back as he usually would, he darted forwards, fist thrusting forwards in a continued effort to bring down the low-level criminal he was facing.

He would have broken all of his fingers had Shouta not intervened. Had this kid never thrown a punch before? He’s certainly watched plenty of punches. How could he possibly not know that you couldn’t tuck your thumb underneath all your other fingers?

Shouta had ended the fight in an instant, leaving the criminal unconscious on the ground as he rounded on the smaller figure.

Slip had left that fight knowing how to throw a proper punch. And how to stand properly. And how to break out of a few holds.

Shouta had had to knock the criminal out a couple extra times. It was a long lesson.

After that, things snowballed. Slip was tiny. While fixing his stance, Shouta had been able to feel every rib through his sweatshirt. His wrists were bony and pale. So the next time they ran into each other, Shouta shoved a protein bar and some juice packs into his arms. It was all he had on him at the time. The time after that, he had a proper meal. They sat on the sidewalk while Slip ate, Shouta turned slightly away so he could keep his face hidden without the medical mask he normally wore. They talked a little bit, about fighting and life. Shouta plied the kid for information about where he was living, what his name was, and whether he was safe, but got little in return.

That was ok, though. Shouta wasn’t trying to find him out. He just had to gain his trust. Food would gain his trust. Bandaging his wounds would gain his trust. Listening to him would gain his trust.

Slip liked to ramble. About anything and everything. Mostly heroes, but occasionally about criminal groups he’d run into and subsequently fled from. He always had some new tip for Shouta, some new fact that he’d picked up in his wanderings.

“Mr. Eraser,” he’d say, green eyes serious and intense. “Did you know that the Yakuza has been recruiting lately?”

Shouta had known that, but he hadn’t known that the new recruits were all highschoolers, or that most of them had expressed an interest in studying biology.

Slip seemed to be simultaneously terrified of him and desperate for his attention. After a few months, it became clear that he was seeking Shouta out, though he didn’t stick around very long. He’d flit in and out of Shouta’s reach, sometimes refusing to come closer than the nearest rooftop, and other times sneaking in close to hang off of his sleeve. One time, he simply walked up to Shouta and hugged him, burying his face in Shouta’s side and standing there, trembling slightly. For a moment, Shouta thought that that was the end of it, that he could finally take the kid off the streets, but when he’d reached out to reciprocate the gesture, Slip had run off once again.

He couldn’t be hasty, though. It couldn’t happen again. He knew where Slip was, at least. He was keeping track of him, knew what villain groups were in the area.

Hitoshi had been in another city when it happened. A place he was unfamiliar with. He’d run away again, and run into the wrong people.

It took Shouta nearly three days to find him after that.

He hadn’t seen Slip in a few days when he finally ran into him. For once, he’d found the kid instead of the other way around, and he wasn’t facing a mugger or a thief. He was slumped against the wall of an alley, sweatshirt seemingly still damp from yesterday’s rain. His shoulders trembled.

Shouta slid down the wall to sit next to him, leaving some space between them. Slip’s breaths were labored, the trembling looking more violent and uncontrolled closer-up.

“Hey, Mr. Eraser,” came the quiet greeting. The words were grating, and ended in a fit of nasty-sounding coughs.

“Hey,” Shouta responded, leaning forward to make sure Slip knew he was studying him. What little of his face he could see was flushed, eyes glassy and unfocused.

Slip sniffed, looking away.

“I’m tired,” he said, curling into himself, digging thin fingers into his arms in an attempt to stop the shaking. “I’m tired, Mr. Eraser.”

Shouta reached out slowly, laying his fingers on the kid’s forehead. It was damp and hot. “You should rest, then. Do you have somewhere you can rest? I can get you medicine.”

Slip just hummed a little in response, and they sat in silence.

“Hey,” Slip said, sniffing again through some heavy congestion. “It’s my birthday today.”

“Yeah? I should get you some birthday cake too, then.”

Slip laughed a little. “I don’t think I could eat it.”

“Maybe when you’re better, then. How old are you turning?”

Slip hesitated a bit, and buried his face in his knees. “Thirteen.”

That…was younger than Shouta had expected. He’d expected the teenage part, but he’d thought that he’d be fifteen at the youngest.

He’s been chasing a twelve-year-old for six months.

Slip coughs again, and Shouta’s heart stutters in his chest. It sounds bad. Really bad. The coughs last a long time, and Shouta has to rub his back before they taper off. The kid slumps a little more, breathing hard.

He can’t leave him out here. He’ll die if he spends more time outside.

“I have a son around your age,” he says slowly.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Hitoshi had been younger than this. Shouta had chased him down time and time again, because he was the only one who could find him and bring him in after he’d run away again.

That last time, Hitoshi refused to come with him. He huddled deep into an old draining pipe, staring out at him with terrified, unfocused eyes.

Hitoshi had tried to fight off the villain group with his quirk, and they’d taken a liking to it. He’d escaped, but not before they’d locked a muzzle around his jaw, locking his mouth shut.

He was half-dead with dehydration by the time Shouta found him. He’d crouched outside that pipe for four hours, coaxing the kid out. It wasn’t until he promised that he wouldn’t have to go to another foster home, that he could stay with him, that Hitoshi had dragged himself out of the pipe, collapsing into Shouta’s arms.

Hitoshi had been eight at the time. Five years later, and he hadn’t run away once.

Being a single parent and an underground hero at the same time was hard, but Shouta doesn’t know how he’d lived without him before.

Beside him, Slip starts to cry. He’d been too careful this time. Twelve was too young to be on the streets for that long. What had happened to Hitoshi had made him paranoid, unwilling to force the issue, but he should have moved faster. Should have gotten this kid safe sooner. The sobs are broken, interrupted with coughing.

“I’m tired, Mr. Eraser,” the kid says again. “I want to go home.”

“I can take you home.”

Slip shakes his head. “There’s nothing there anymore.”

“You can come home with me.”

It’s not the first time he’s offered, but it’s the first time Slip doesn’t shrug it off. Instead, he sniffs loudly and says, “really?”

Shouta reaches out again and brushes the damp hair from Slip’s forehead, hesitating before pushing the hood of his hoodie down off his head.

Slip’s hair is dirty, and matted, and wet, but he thinks it might be green. “Really.”

The kid slumps against him, burying his head in Shouta’s shoulder. The fever burns through the fabric of his hero costume.

“Okay.”

It’s quiet, but it’s permission. Shouta moves slowly, but sweeps the kid up into his arms bridal style, keeping his head rested on his shoulder. Slip’s head lolls, and the kid stares up at him with clouded eyes.

He’s sick and vulnerable and young and he trusts Shouta so much, he should have done this weeks ago.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Izuku.”

“Well, Izuku, when you feel better, we can get some birthday cake.”

Shouta walks towards his apartment. It’s not far, and Hitoshi will be home from school soon. Shouta had told him weeks ago that he may have to start sharing his room. Izuku hums, smiling slightly at the mention of birthday cake.

By the time they reach the apartment, the kid is already asleep.

#bnha #my writing

[theangrypokemaniac]

Since I rant enough about the wizening Ma and Pa received in Sinnoh it's only right to wreak bloody rhetorical vengeance elsewhere:

However harsh it may be, I'm glad Takeshi Shudo isn't alive to witness the hateful desecration of his legacy.

...

In a universe where no one's allowed to age, why are the modern Jessie and James so withered and decrepit?

Dragon Ball has been on for more than three decades. Its stars were permitted to grow up, because the head can cope with the opportunities this offers.

Yet Goku, Krillin, Bulma et al bear a greater similarity to their younger selves than these gurning invertebrates do to Team Rocket, wearing a papery approximation of their skin.

Akira Toriyama is actually concerned about his life's work, still coming up with interesting concepts, brand-new characters, and most importantly, values his audience by keeping to the established canon.

If a Dragon Ball fan reads this, I am so jealous of you.

Consider yourselves fortunate not to have seen the thing you loved the most pulverised and the resulting glutinous mass moulded back into makeshift sloppy cadavers.

Look at the state of that man! That's a good picture these days!

Why have the eyelid lines turned into upside down bags?

And why has she collected her lashes for this particular screen shot?

On eyes with a strangely feline slant...

Has she had a face lift?

Get yer money back on that one, love.

And why has he marks under his eyes and round his flapping gob to add the hint of exhaustion?

And why don't her lips reach the edge of her mouth anymore?

And why must he display Beaver Toof, as if he's only got six pegs left?

Giving it to him but not her implies she's lost the lot, needing to gum objects for a result.

And why do her low-slung ears consist only of lobe?

And why can you see his featureless lugs? Why does his barnet stand outwards in tentacles like he's taken to wearing a floppy Starmie?

What's that's meant to be, purple dreadlocks?

And why is her hairline curved and absolutely straight, like a bad wig, apart from the perfunctory bits to the side, which I guarantee won't alter their position throughout the run?

Hair used to move about, now by law there's a set pattern which cannot change. Stamp that life out immediately.

And what's that flaccid growth between his weary peepers? Is that meant to be fringe?

PFFFT!!!

And why are her digits just as thick and oblong as his?

It ain't fingers. It's trotters.

And why's he got a back to his throat, but she hasn't?

And why are we forced to witness it? You can see all the way to his dangler!

The great gaping pink cave looks like the end of Looney Tunes when Porky Pig pops up and stammers: "That's all folks!"

Remember a lack of Beaver Toof? And triangular mouths?

Remember when Meowth was a cheeky, spirited little cat, not a middle-aged human midget, an emaciated wreck bored of it all?

Remember when it wasn't deemed necessary to expose us to internal organs?

And when James was a handsome, hysterically camp dandy, not a creepy, snot-ridden science dweeb?

And when Jessie was a beautiful, stylish young girl, hot-tempered but loyal, not a sullen, cold, reptilian, Botoxed-to-the-gills gorgon?

Remember when Team Rocket were fun? And attractive?

Remember when they had joy in their hearts in spite of their poverty? And vim? And hope?

Remember them acting with flair and imagination?

Remember when their schemes had variety?

Remember when they had more than a single disguise per era?

Remember when they had many occupations? And were good at them?

Remember when they'd have a go at everything and weren't reduced to flipping condemned meat in a grotty burger van FOR THREE YEARS?!

Remember when those in charge didn't despise them, when they got happy endings?

Remember split screens? And face faults? And background tones? And purple streaks down your cheeks?

Remember big, bright open eyes, not shrunken, sagging and empty holes afflicted by glaucoma?

Remember when Jessie had eyelashes?

Remember when Pokémon was an anime?

And when James had a fringe, not a bent swelling like a balloon animal?

And when the artist could be arsed to draw Meowth's Charm properly?

Remember when the voices weren't nails down a blackboard?

When Meowth didn't sound like a wedge of coal grinding beneath an oil-deprived door?

When Jessie's dulcet tones had a wider range that just screechy, and weren't reminiscent of a cacophonous banshee clawing her way from a bog, using her own mug as a shovel?

When James speaking didn't suggest he was at best, suffering sinus difficulties, and at worst, constantly battling to swallow his own sick from looking at her?

Mind you, I'm grateful the 4Kids cast are no longer here. They deserve better, and their presence would only validate the crude bastardisations.

Every time the guttural howls reach my poor ears a chill runs through my system, and reminds me of The Pokémon Company sacking the real dub crew in preference for a job done on the cheap.

Remember speed lines? And Pokéball-throwing animation?

Remember a new motto performance in each installment, not the same stock footage reused again and again?

Remember when it rhymed?

It shows.

Remember remembering it?

Remember when Team Rocket would walk down the street in their uniforms and no one took a blind bit of notice despite the organisation operating there?

And they didn't fanny about in one scabby polyester costume every minute they were travelling, even when NO ONE KNOWS WHO THEY ARE?

Since Unova, whilst confronting Ash and this era's soon-to-be-forgotten companions, you get this exchange:

Moron-Of-The-Week: "Who are Team Rocket?"

Ash: "They're bad guys who steal other people's Pokémon."

EVERY SINGLE BLOODY TIME!!!

WORD-FOR-WORD IDENTICAL!!!

The writers have such deep appreciation for their work they're sending in cut-and-paste scripts.

Remember blasting off when something blew up, not an explosion from nowhere, or giving it the slip with a jet pack, or abduction by a Care Bear?

Remember when the eyebrows matched the hair?

Remember when he wore it long?

Remember blue shock? And sweat drop? And hammerspace? And comedy violence?

Remember her jagged hairline? And it being RED!!!

Remember proper highlights to it, rather than the odd white lump now and again, as if sweating like a pig, or their heads are infested with giant space ticks?

Remember when they were in all the episodes? And were main characters? And on the introduction sequence?

Remember when Jessie and James used to hug? And hold hands?

And bicker as only a couple can, but you knew they'd never cope alone?

Remember when they'd fly into each other's arms under the flimsiest pretext?

Remember when they meant more to one another than just being a pair of unconnected and disembodied wraiths coincidentally walking down the same road?

And they had more than civil interactions?

Remember when she loved him as much as he loved her?

And no one else could ever take his place?

And canon wasn't infected with the ruinous depiction of her as a hard, heartless bitch barely tolerating him until someone 'better' came along, at which point she'd fuck off without a backwards glance?

'Better', as in a scabby, satchel-mouthed, gormless cretin, just to add surly insult to merciless injury.

Never has such a life-long and hardcore defender of the faith flipped into an ardent Rumishipper as I did after that episode, once I'd swept up the fragments of my soul.

Remember when they were sympathetic?

Remember when they showed human warmth?

Remember when they cared about each other?

Remember when they weren't just a jangling, distorted mess of half-recollected traits?

Remember when they weren't really evil?

Remember Rocketshipping? That was a thing once, believe it or not.

Remember when they had a conscience?

Remember when actually wicked characters turned up, and Team Rocket ALWAYS sided with Ash, rather than the nauseating spectacle of suddenly being best buds with the Boss?

Remember when they had contact with the Twerps?

Remember when Team Rocket and the Twerps loved each other in secret and would endanger themselves to save their 'enemies'?

Everything that was once good and winning about them was sucked out, degree by degree, to leave the corpse, hollow and dead, strung up on wires as a grim marionette.

I'm sure most who see this will vehemently disagree, that I'm completely wrong, that THEY like them.

Yes, you like this three, but you don't like Team Rocket. This is not them. You have yours, and I have mine, but let's not pretend they are the same.

Why, if there is no difference, would I be so hostile, when they meant so much too me?

Did you ever wonder where the original fans went, why they all departed en masse? It's not because they 'moved on' or 'matured'.

They didn't leave Pokémon. Pokémon left them.

As the makers rely so heavily on repetition (sorry, nostalgia) they arrogantly expect us to still be here, having blithely welcomed our memories minced and our canon ripped up or ripped off, apparently.

We're intended to put up with watching them lay waste to ťhe series's body, clinging on for when a rotting bone is pulled up now and again and waved at us, before they chuck it aside to continue the dismemberment.

It's been eaten from the inside out, explaining the facial collapse. Behold the beauty on show:

You see what I mean, don't you?

Don't you? No, because otherwise you'd say the same.

How anyone feels able to describe three deformed freaks as 'hot' or 'cute' I will never comprehend.

The uniform collar protrudes like a solid pipe, emphasising the pencil necks.

It gives the impression of wrinkled, leathery tortoises peering out of their shells to secure a tasty lettuce treat.

Is that pretty? No.

Is it so surprising I don't care for my favourites to resemble melted waxwork skeletons of their own dæmonic counterparts?

S&M is a most fitting name, for this is torture.

In the film Death Becomes Her, Meryl Streep and Goldie Hawn vie for the attention of Bruce Willis, both taking a serum giving everlasting youth and slimness.

The catch is it confers immortality, but not invulnerability, so when pushed down the stairs Meryl survives but is dead, her neck broken, thus she's zipped up in the morgue fridge.

When Goldie is shot with a canon she too rises, internal organs blown out.

The rest of the adventure involves the pair losing the war against time, patching up and painting over peeling grey skin, holding onto loose limbs as their bodies fall apart.

This obviously is the case here. The trio lapped the potion up at the close of Sinnoh, experienced a fatal accident and are now steadily crumbling to mush before us.

According to grave-diggers the head always goes first, so there you are then.

I have a suspicion that Giovanni lured all three to his crypt, experimenting on them to engineer his ultimate super soldier, which explains their flat, plastic appearance. Those since Unova began are the cyborgs, the real ones locked in his cellar.

You may notice I have about the lowest opinion possible of the current writing team, as they deserve.

Why should I have any respect for vindictive halfwits like this, who hate Team Rocket so much they're going out of their way to distort and uglify them, expressing the resentment in celluloid?

Jessie, James and Meowth lost their only defender in Takeshi Shudo. From that point they descended from loveable, hapless tragic figures to self-parodies (Hoenn) whiney, irritating divs dumping one another at every interval (Sinnoh), robotic, amoral scum (Unova and Kalos) and now physically repulsive minor additions (Alola and Galar). Is that trajectory all accidental?

It not that it's a new 'style' (for want of a better word), as were that the case, this hideousness would apply to the entire cast, but it's only done to Team Rocket. How could that be unless motivated by malice?

Given the sub thesps are obliged to prostrate themselves in the dust, begging fans to make their appreciation known, it smacks of desperation.

They wouldn't need to ask that were the trio treated as an integral component. They must sense the objections and are thus drumming up support to avoid the dole queue.

Are those in charge so resentful of their presence it manifests in mutilating them, keen to do anything that may alienate the fanbase, so at the first sign of a dip in popularity they can leap upon it as the perfect excuse to write Team Rocket out?

Why be surprised? These are imbeciles who reject their own canon at the close of every generation, so why care about someone else's?

If people have to harangue the writers with grovelling praise of their retcons, rehashes and all-round twatting about, butter 'em up sufficiently, with the implied threat of deserting the franchise should Team Rocket be ejected, taking their purses too, all so the smug, avaricious berks deign to put the trio in the next generation, that proves they don't want them, so how can what they write for their characters be objectively of any worth?

Team Rocket would've departed by now, were there not a palpable worry their absence might ring the death knell of the whole thing, turning off the financial tap, which is what matters.

Therefore they are retained, grudgingly, and only so long as the clamour continues at its current decibel level. If that drops it's over, and don't expect a romantic resolution. Why should pleasing you be a concern when you're to leave with them?

Ask yourself: how much of your devotion is based on what they are right now, and how much is from who they used to be?

How long can they live off past glories?

The offences done in Unova and Kalos were bad enough, but remarkably Game Freak found further depths to plumb, therefore it can only get worse.

I have of course retained the loveliest for last:

Be still, my beating heart.

No, really, be still. Stop infact. 

Planet of the Apes.

#Team Rocket #Jessie #James #Meowth #Alola #GIFS