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4dmc · 3 months

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Movie Reviews From Under A Rock: Licorice Pizza

Licorize Pizza is a 2021 American film directed by Paul Thomas Anderson.

A romantic, coming-of-age comedy film set in the 70s, centered around the 2 main characters: 25 year old Alana Kane and 15 year old Gary Valentine. The two struggle with their relationship, family issues, growing pains and finding ways to earn money.

WARNING: Some minor spoilers.

The Bad first: the whole age gap/different age romance is something that IS a great factor regarding the 2 main characters' struggles/conflict in the plot. The age-gap romance is intertwined with the movie's themes of how flawed people are.

My problem with it is that it does give us the same-old rhetoric about glorifying their age-difference romance. Gary is only 15 years old.

However, this Bad thing is part of the story highlighting the flaws of the reality that both characters are navigating as two fumbling teens/young adults do. But alright, I will be expanding upon this as we move forward....

Another Bad thing, and this is probably more so to the personal experience of any moviegoer if they're going to watch this film, is that the style of this film is quite unconventional. Licorice Pizza is highly a "Slice of Life" sort of movie.

Literally, a Slice of Licorice Pizza is near 3 hours long and to a moviegoer who wants things in a straightforward fashion or is used to conventional styles of plot and pace, this is going to be a chunky, near plotless, meandering movie.

That itself isn't truly a Bad thing for a format/style of a movie, but rather for the audience/viewer who will see something like this and may lose track of the story. Or feel like it's going nowhere.

There's also a few, miniscule moments of racist stereotyping; as this is set in the 70s, some Japanese/Asian characters are blatantly stereotyped. Without spoiling, it's because a few of the lead characters are involved with making business in opening the first "Japanese" restaurant chains in the USA. And you can imagine how awkward that is.

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Then the Good: Cinematography, the cast, the emotional beats and themes of the story are this film's greatest strengths.

It actually tells a rather simple, open-ended tale about two people having to grow up and making the best out of everything that they set their minds to. The lead, Alana, is in this state of painfully trying to become mature, especially since she's 25 years old. Gary, on the other hand, appears that he's trying his best to fit into this adult mold he thinks he ought to be, as any 15 year old tries to interpret their maturity.

And all the while the way the film shoots these moments are fantastic. Simple, everyday moments are just when every cast is simply in this still frame. Whilst tense, argumentative moments are further highlighted by both a quiet and this slight tilt in the over-the-shoulder perspective. The film wastes no time in using every camera technique to visually show a lot of the moments the characters go through: whether going to New York City to perform on stage, or on a waterbed falling asleep, it is eye-candy.

I think what's best about this coming-of-age film is its depictions of many adults, specifically Alana's new adulthood. She's young but she's literally now an adult and she has this urgency that she feels she's already missing out on what it is to be "an adult". Yet she's stuck with the same circle of friends, most of which are below 18 year olds, and you get a sense that she wants out of it. It also doesn't help that her own family, her fellow peers around her age group (mostly just her sisters) and even some adults in her various jobs further puts her in this dizzyingly exhausting situation. Like after everything that's happened, she's back to square one.

I discussed before in the Bad section about the age-gap thing. I want to make it clear that, yes, their romance is something the audience/viewer will definitely put into question and criticize. And its ending regarding Alana and Gary's relationship will likely not be different to the viewers criticizing this aspect.

But the film itself is grey-neutral about this flawed relationship. It's not neutral that it passively accepts the romance both Alana and Gary have for one another. But rather the entirety of this film presents a very flawed, mundane adulthood, and an honest imperfect journey to their maturity. Even if it actually means the two of them aren't there yet as the film ends. It knows their relationship is wrong, but the film isn't about making moral statements. Only honestly portraying it.

It's a comedy film; it shows their journey and the ups and downs of their relationship with one another, with other friends and adults, with a dash of absurdism. This is further highlighted as these young characters mingle with businessmen and Hollywood has-beens and aggressive, upcoming actors; all because they want to earn money and make it big.

And it's in these situations of trying to find income that Alana and Gary fight one another, all the while wrestling with their desires for one another: Gary, as a hormonal teen, speaks to Alana about seeing her breasts. Alana, on the other hand, being the adult, refuses at first, but in her impulsivity and anger, she eventually does show her breasts to him.

This is just among their many fights, some trivial, others about their values and singling out the other's flaws. And in their conflict, you can't help but awkwardly and even point out how absurd their fights are, and laugh. But in the end, in some ways you can't help but sympathize these 2 characters because their problems will likely be similar to ours.

Personally, I thought I was going to relate to Alana as she's the closest my age and also it's true that adults still go through a lot of growing up. Adulthood is not perfect. But I ended up more relating and even more entertained with Gary's character. He is forced to grow and mature because of his absent father, and felt he had to shoulder an equal share to his single mom's burden, particularly earning money.

Despite his age and even some of the typical 15 year old hi-jinks, Gary is shown strugglinh in this in-between state of just being young, a teen with ambitions but still not encumbered with any kind of adult responsibility, or at least he's not supposed to; but he is, as he had taken upon himself to hustle both for their family's financial state, as well as having to act like a grown-up, even taking on akin to being a "de facto" leader; as at one point in the film, he became a manager.

All in all, Licorice Pizza may visually intrigue us with the cinematic nostalgia for the 70s, but perhaps even more so for the current teens and new adults in their 20s, who may find the setting and meandering slice of life story, despite it being in a generation not of their own, reminiscent of what they used to be. Or what they want to be, and do, fully acknowledging the awkward and imperfect moments of teenhood and early adulthood.

And simultaneously, its visuals harmonizes with the overlapping themes of the story presented to us: the imperfections of growing up and becoming adults, or even as adults. And the relationships between people, no matter how bad it gets, are worth working hard to maintain.

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The Ugly: Visually, sonically and production-wise, this is a solid film in those arenas. And yes, this film is depicting an age-gap romance, not to mention some Asian stereotyping. There's even the actual length and pacing of the film. There's no denying this film is long and the attention span of the audience can be put to the test with this one, especially since its style of story telling is stylized.

But there's also Bradley Cooper's character here, Jon Peters. Jon Peters was a former hairdresser and film producer. He's also real. In here, he's depicted as among those aggro 70's director/producer, who's super rich and 100% an aHHhole.

The thing is, one research on Jon Peters himself reveals a lot of issues about him. Sure, he has an illustrious career, spanning 7 decades, all starting from when he was an extra from a 50s film The Ten Commandments, to when he became a hairdresser and designed a wig for Barbra Streisand, all the way to when he was a Hollywood producer.

But then there's the fact that he was among the reasons why The Sandman live adaptation had been stuck in development hell since 2011; to sexually harassing a secretary; having very wild ideas for the iconic character, Superman, that got him banned from Christopher Nolan's set of the Man of Steel film (according to him); and down to his own failed marriages.

So yeah...a very interesting little "ugly" thing that doesn't have any connection to this film....except Anderson had Bradley Cooper depict a fictional version of this guy in this movie.

Make of this info what you will.

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The Beauty: I already said it's cinematography is good, but the best thing I found in this film is this very precise perspectives and camera work. There is nothing too shaky when they characters are running or if there are any of these action scenes happening.

In fact, some of the most "Ah sh!t wtf!" moments are framed in with the camera so still, whilst that "AAhh! Wtf!" happened right before your eyes. It's like you, the audience, have just bear witnessed to some spectacular accident or even an incident as you happen to be there.

Despite these moments, the story is mostly set in these quiet, mundane moments. The perspective of the camera frames them as the moment is fit: if there's melodrama, the camera respects that moment and even hangs in there to let us view the emotion of a character. And this is even painstakingly done on minor characters.

The set design is done with verisimilitude in mind. This is not shot with the 70s glorified. The places where they go has trash strewn, the shop they converted to become an arcade has seen better days. The cars, the technology, the diner, even etc. could've been straight out of our parents' or grandparents' memories. And that's another thing: Paul Thomas Anderson wanted the 70s to come alive in this film, and he has referenced various people, places and even his own experiences when he was a kid into the film.

Costumes are definitely contemporaneous. People's fashions are definitely depicted to be as close to what ordinary people wore in the 70s. With some celebrity characters co-mingling with them, whilst others are from a subculture, the dresses and clothing are made for what they're supposed to do. Nothing more, nothing less.

Sonically, the soundtrack of this film definitely borrows from or are playing actual 70s songs to better fit the setting. To just truly put us into their world, combined with original songs that further color and highlight moments in this film. The original sounds excel in those slow, mundane and poignant points in the film, with some of their downbeat and slow sound harmonizing to the story.

I have never known what the 70s looks like, but at least with this film, it let me have a peek at someone's memories and style of what it may have been like.

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Overall: This is probably not for everyone. But still, this is neither a difficult, mental film, nor is it anything simplified. It's just unconventional in its approach on a simple story of a Girl Meets Boy Meets The World type of thing. I won't deny some of the problematic aspects of this film, both inside the story, and also outside, as there are some real-life people depicted in this movie who has done a lot of questionable stuff (yeah I'm talking about you Jon Peters). So if you want, give this a whirl on a long, listless, nothing-better-to-do weekend. And honestly, either Alana or Gary would've done the same thing.

When I 1st watched it, it was because my uncle and grandma wanted to watch something because they've got nothing else to do. My uncle let me picked something from whatever he had pirated (yeah he pirated Licorice Pizza, among other stuff). The title intrigued me and so, we brought out our chicharon (crispy pork snack), red wine and press play. Wouldn't trade that long afternoon for anything else.

#movie reviews from under a rock #movie review #licorice pizza #coming of age film #film #film review #2021 film #films 2021 #cinema #cinema review #paul thomas anderson

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rouge-the-bat · 3 years

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honestly i feel like a lot of people online dont have the emotional maturity to interact with a large number of other people on a daily basis, which is kinda impossible to avoid when on the internet a lot of the time

#this is in no way exclusive to minors. this is defintely @ some people very well into adulthood #not any Specific people. just a lot #just stating that since ''emotional maturity'' may make some think this is directed just at minors #anyways. learn how to block people and be petty about others in private (yes that means explicitly Not Public parts of the internet)

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landinoandco · 3 years

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Hey could you do one with max verstappen, where the reader a fight about him not helping around the house (witch he doesnt do because he is just tired from working hard but the reader dont know) so they yell at max and he suddenly walks away but then they find him crying in bed, because hes overworked and feels like hes never gonna be good enough at being a driver and the readers boyfriend. And feels like he can only dissapoint the reader, his dad and cristian. But the reader comforts him. Tnx

Because I'm not good enough...

Max Verstappen x Reader

Warnings: angsty

Word count: 2 k

Requests are open :)

You were sat at the dining room table, staring out at the empty seat in front of you. Your arms crossed across your chest and your lip in between your teeth. You had been sat there for an hour - in the grand scheme of things an hour didn’t seem like such a long time but it was his final warning and an hour was just long enough to allow for your anger to boil over.

Dinner was in the fridge - the same dinner you had cooked an hour ago, your phone lay screen up on the table - the same phone you used to call Max two hours and a half hours ago, he told you he was on his way home. Home whilst you were in the UK was 25 minutes away from the Redbull HQ. This was becoming a regular occurrence, some nights he would come home so late that you had already taken yourself to bed. The atmosphere in the house seemed to freeze over whenever he was around even though you were yet to come out of summer, there was something hanging over the pair of you - unspoken feelings and as of now a red hot anger that threatened to escape from your usually composed nature.

Ever since the championship had taken a turn in the favour of Redbull, Max had started to become much more distant. It started off with him not inviting you along to the races, leaving on the Wednesday before race weekend and sometimes not seeing him until the following Tuesday and that was on a stand alone race weekend. On the triple headers, it could be nearing two weeks until you two were spared 5 minutes alone and even then it was a brief conversation before he rushed back to the factory or to train.

You thought you knew what you signed up for and since yours and Max’s relationship and that was three years ago so you thought you had seen it all - been through it all with him, witnessed every high and every low. This was a new territory and you knew that if it wasn’t tackled soon -

The click of the door lock echoed in the hallway, you straightened in your seat - eyes locked ahead of you and your knee bouncing.

Max sighed loudly and wiped his hand over his face, it had been a long day - he had been at the factory up until Christian had invited him out to lunch, it was nice to catch up with his boss and Max felt like he owed the man so much; guiding him through the years that had led up to the moment they found themselves in. Max felt like over the past years he had matured as a person, sometimes still short tempered but being an F1 driver it wasn’t necessarily a bad trait. After his lunch with Christian, his dad had called him - the less said about the conversation the better. By the time you had called, the last thing he wanted to do was come home and risk upsetting you. He had taken himself on a run - to clear his head and focus on what he was going to say to you because he felt like something definitely needed to be said.

He also owed a lot to you, you had put up with so much over the years and standing by his side even when he had made a mistake - although you were very quick to tell him when he was in the wrong. You seemed to be on his level, a blunt and forward look at life - there was no time for dawdling about when you had things to be done. Life was short and there was no time to waste.

Recently however, he was putting so much pressure and stress on himself about work that the hours slipped away from him and so did the time spent with you. He felt the atmosphere change around the pair of you - as though he was always walking on thin ice, the cracks beginning to show. The guilt he felt was nothing like he had ever felt before, all he wanted to do was talk to you but he was scared of pushing you away - which is ironic because not talking and letting the pent up anger build up was having the same effect. He was never that good when it came to talking about how he felt - as much as he wanted to he felt as though he would be a burden and that he would put too much pressure on you. He could never tell you what he really felt like inside. It was embarrassing, he knew that a professional athlete should never feel what he felt. It weakened him and having weaknesses in a sport like Formula 1 was not an option.

Max shrugged his coat off and walked through to the main room of the apartment - the room where you were sat waiting to pounce as though he was your unsuspecting prey.

He offered a tired smile, in response he got a sneer. Swallowing hard, you felt the anger take over, like some monster escaping from a cage.

“I have been sitting here for an hour, Max -” You shot to your feet, pointing at the table, your voice cracked slightly. “For months, you’ve been leaving me - it’s me who’s been cooking for us both, cleaning, washing - everything, Max. By myself.” You were shouting now, your heart threatening to break free from your chest. Max just stood there, a blank expression on his face - his gaze fixed to the ground. “I don’t understand what went wrong, Max. We were happy, hell, we spoke to each other. Now, I’m alone. In fact, I may as well be alone if this doesn’t change.” The words had fallen out of your mouth before you had any time to consider them - or the consequences. Your eyes went round with shock and you fell back to your seat. A loud silence filled the room.

Max, too, had not expected the words that had initiated the silence. He opened his mouth, eyes still on the ground, then closed it again before raising his head and looking you dead in the eye.

“You don’t mean that.” He managed to mutter, barely being able to raise his voice any louder. He felt a tired emptiness, this was the last thing he had wanted to happen.

“That’s all you have to say to me.” You rounded on him again, angry tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“No - I -” He stuttered, then closed his eyes, inhaling slowly, “I just don’t think we should talk things through whilst you’re angry -” He saw you about to interject, when he raised his hands. “You have every right to be. That’s not what I’m saying. I think we should wait to talk about it so we don’t say things we are going to regret later.” Max could feel his throat constricting, he was battling to keep his emotions at bay.

You sniffed and nodded slowly, placing your head in your hands - hot tears escaping and shoulders tensed.

Max swallowed thickly, his eyes swimming with tears. He made a move and after no interruption left the room. He had only made it to the stairs before he collapsed, the fatigue getting the better of him. He was such an idiot, a fact he was certainly aware of now, how could he have let things get this bad. Did that make him a selfish person?

He couldn’t hold it in any longer, a harsh sob escaping from his mouth - fingers shaking and his head a loud mess.

As soon as Max had left the room, you had gotten up to get some water - when you paused, a sound catching your attention - a deep sounding sob. You waited, a line appeared between your brows. Slowly and carefully, you inched towards the door - waiting with baited breath for the sound again.

It was coming from the stairs and there was only one person it could be. Regret instantly pooled in the pit of your stomach, you hadn’t meant for him to cry. You were just so angry and he needed to know that.

“Max.” You called out softly, unsurprisingly there was no response. You went in the direction of the stairs and hunched over in front of you was your boyfriend - attempting to stifle his sobs. You rushed forwards, placing your arms around his shoulders and pulled his body into yours. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around your waist. You kissed the top of his head, stroking his hair as he continued to cry - you allowed him to empty his emotions out; some tears of your own betraying you entirely.

“I’m sorry, I really am.” Came a muffled voice. Pausing, you released your hold of him and placed your hands either side of his face - offering him a watery smile. Then, using your sleeves you wiped his tears away - he watched your every move, waiting for you to say something. When you didn’t, he braced himself - lips trembling; he knew it was now or never. He had to tell you how he really felt.

“I’m not good enough.” He stated simply, his eyes glossy. Your forehead furrowed. “I’m never going to be good enough to take the championship, I’m going to let everyone down. Everyone that has ever believed in me - it doesn’t matter what I do, how much work I put in - I’m never good enough. And you -” He paused, meeting your gaze, a lump forming in the back of your throat. “I keep letting you down, time and time again. I was the one who caused this, I’m never going to be good enough for you.”

“If you believe that -” You began, kissing the newly formed tears away, “Then I will eat your race shoe.” You moved to sit next to him on the stairs, pulling him into your side. “Why didn’t you tell me that’s how you felt.”

You felt Max shrug, the side of his head resting on yours. “I didn’t want to burden you with all of my problems, you already put up with so much.”

“I will always have time for you, Max.” Grasping his hand in yours, “You are enough, you are more than enough. You are Max Verstappen, the fastest, strongest guy I know.” You chuckled lightly, “I know it may sometimes feel like that and that’s ok. You are putting yourself through so much - maybe, it’s time to give some consideration for your personal life. It’s unhealthy to work all of the time - then we run into issues like these.” You spoke softly, almost whispering but you could tell he was hanging onto every word you spoke. “I love you, Max. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You admitted, turning your head to look at him. He chewed on his bottom lip, processing your words.

“I love you too, more than anything.” He murmured, placing his forehead on yours. You lifted your head slightly to leave a soft kiss on his nose, earning the corners of his lips to quirk up.

Closing your eyes, you relished being in his arms again, to have him close to you. You had missed it. You had missed him. Both of you knew you had a lot to work through, that it wouldn’t simply disappear but both of you were going to do it together. Hand in hand. And that was more than enough.

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wandaromanova · 3 years

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Can u do a fic where fem!reader and Nat are broken up and they’re pretty hostile with each other but when one of them gets hurt on a mission they realize they’re still in love and get back together thank u if u write this :)))))))

I Love You

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, violence, that’s it i believe

A/N: hi! i hit 300 followers! i posted my very first story 3 weeks ago and only had like 10 followers then. i can’t even begin to express how grateful i am that i’ve been able to bring people joy (or pain lol) with my stories. thank you. not proofread. <3

Summary: Ex-lovers Natasha and Y/N dance around their feelings for each other. They decide that hostility was the best course of action.

Word Count: 2.5K

(gif is not mine)

You and Natasha dated for a year and a half before you guys decided to call it quits. It was a mutual agreement, but there was still some sort of bad blood between the both of you that was painfully obvious. The tension could be cut with a knife.

You guys were going great at first. You both understood each other on a level that no one else could. You would do typical couple things in order to compensate for the lack of stability and domesticity you’ve both had in your lives. Movie nights, designated date nights, cuddle sessions in the late hours of the night, and literally every other cliche there was in the book.

However, you and Natasha were both raised in similar environments. From young ages, you guys were trained to conceal your true emotions and that love was for children. So, communicating with one another was something that the both of you didn’t know how to do.

You didn’t try to communicate and neither did she; and there lied the problem. Natasha would absolutely freak on you if you so much as looked at another person. You would get upset if Natasha went on a mission without informing you first. There were so many pointless arguments that occurred between you and Natasha. Arguments that could’ve been avoided or solved if you guys were able to just talk to each other.

You would say that you guys did talk… just in a higher volume than normal conversation. The yelling between you both could be heard throughout the compound. Most times, you would get so fed up and tired from the arguing, that you didn’t even know why you guys were fighting anymore. It wasn’t healthy and you knew it.

You and Natasha never once told each other the big three words. That was a line neither of you dared to cross. Like the Red Room and The Academy taught you both, love was a weakness and was nothing more than a concept believed by children. You’d like to think that actions spoke louder than words, though.

You could feel the love between you both in the way you would hold onto one another after a mission had gone wrong. You could feel it in the way Natasha worried and panicked when you’d come back from a mission with so much as a scratch above your eyebrow. However, you still could not bring yourself to tell her how you felt. Not that it would matter now, considering you guys had broken up.

It’s been five months since the breakup, and at first your plan of action was to be civil with your ex-girlfriend, but she had other plans. Natasha would bark out snarky remarks whenever you would speak up during team meetings. She began to give you cold glares whenever you walked into a room. God forbid you would even breathe in her direction, she would storm out of a room at the speed of light if you did so.

So, you began to act the same way she was. Okay, yes, it was extremely childish thinking. You should be mature, regardless of how Natasha was treating you, but you couldn’t be civil anymore. So you would treat her just as harshly as she did you. You’d send her sharper glares than she would give you. You’d never listen to anything she had to add during mission meetings, being sure to make it obvious you weren’t paying attention. And you would always counter her hostile comments that were directed towards you.

The team was currently sat in a meeting. You and Natasha were meant to be sent on a mission together, to which you both immediately objected.

“Steve, do I really have to go with that over there? I’d rather go myself and risk dying than go with her.” Natasha pointed in your direction and you were immediately offended by her statement.

“No, I would rather go and die than have to hear one more word out of your god damn mouth. You’re such a bitch.” You spoke as you stood up from your seat, Natasha following suit. Natasha walked across the room and stopped in front of you. She harshly shoved a finger against your chest.

“What the fuck did you just call me? You better take it back before I make sure you never talk again.” Natasha glared at you intensely as she stared into your eyes. You returned her stare with a bored expression on your face.

“I said you’re a bitch. What are you going to do about it, Widow?” You asked her challengingly. Natasha moved to pounce on you, but Bucky, who was sitting next to your spot, sprung in and intervened.

“Let her go Barnes. I’d love to kick her ass.” You smirked as your words only enraged Natasha more. She struggled against Bucky’s grip, trying to free herself so she could pound your face into the floor, but she couldn’t break free.

“Okay! Enough. Natasha, you’re off the mission. Y/N, you’re with me. We leave in 10.” Steve spoke with conviction in his voice, fed up with the pair of you. Natasha stopped resisting Bucky’s hold as he slowly let her go. You looked at her with one harsh glare before you took the mission file that was on the table and walked out of the room. As you left, everyone in the room stared at Natasha. She huffed and stormed out of the room as well.

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•

You and Steve were currently staked out in a van. You guys were spying on one of the leaders of Hydra and an infamous weapons dealer. The man was currently having a lunch with the dealer. You had been sitting there together for about an hour. You were bored out of your mind and pissed that you couldn’t get Natasha out of your mind. You wanted to punch yourself in the face for thinking about how hot she looked when she pissed. The way her eyes would widen, showing off more of her green irises as her eyebrows furrowed together in anger. The way her chest rose and fell as she took deep breaths. God, she had such nice boobs.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Fury’s voice coming in through comms. “Okay, we evacuated civilians off of the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. Remember, wait until they’re in front of the alley before you attack. They may have weapons.” Fury informed you both and you looked onto the monitor to confirm the empty street. Sure enough, there wasn’t a civilian in sight; good.

Steve replied with a quick “okay” before movement from the door of the restaurant caught your attention. “Steve, there they are. Move out, now.” You spoke as you loaded your gun and attached it to your hip. You and Steve jumped out of the van. Steve threw his shield and hit both of the men with it. His shield came back to him as if ricocheted off of the men.

Your gun was pointed at the both of them as you guys approached them. “Meeting in broad daylight? Doesn’t seem like a smart move for two supposedly genius people.” You spoke as Steve searched the two men for any weapons. They didn’t have any. That should’ve been a red flag, but you weren’t in the right state of mind right now.

Suddenly, another van pulled up in front of the alleyway, right behind the vehicle you both had just exited. Hydra Agents with semi-automatic guns filed out of the van. Fuck. You guys were set up. Steve shared a look with you before he threw his shield toward the men and knocked the guns out of a few of the agent’s hands.

You began to fire towards the men with your own gun. You shot them in the shoulders, sending them flying to the ground in pain. You and Steve made quick work of the men and soon enough, there were unconscious men littered across the floor.

You and Steve turned back to the two men you had previously captured as they laid on the floor in shock. They really thought their little stunt would work? Pathetic. Unfortunately, one of the Hydra agents was still conscious. You and Steve failed to notice the movement behind your backs. The man pointed a nearby gun at you and fired 5 shots at you. He missed three of them, but managed to land two into your abdomen.

You fell to the ground as Steve whipped around and actually knocked the man unconscious this time. “Fury, we need backup! L/N is down!” He spoke frantically into comms as he applied pressure to your wounds. Your eyes were open in shock as you tried to process what just happened. You were shot. It really did hurt like a bitch. What are those black spots? God, I want Natasha right now. Wait, what? No, it’s just the blood loss talking.

You fell unconscious as soon as the backup S.H.I.E.L.D agents appeared on the scene. You were rushed back to the Avengers Compound in one of S.H.I.E.L.D’s vehicles, Steve following you after ensuring the two men were detained. As soon as the car made it to the compound, your unconscious body was placed onto a gurney and you were being rushed to the medical wing.

As your body was being rolled through the halls of the compound, you were pushed by the doctors past Natasha. She did a double take and quickly turned around to confirm what she had just saw. Her heart sunk to her stomach at the sight of your limp, blood-covered body. She ran after you without a second thought, fear and dread taking over.

Natasha tried to enter the medical wing where they had just taken you, but she was stopped by a strong hand abruptly placing itself onto her shoulder. “Nat, we need to let them take care of her. We’d only be disturbing them and we need their focus to 100% be on Y/N.” Steve said in an attempt to convince the redhead to stop her plan of barging into the room like a madwoman. Natasha took one last glance at the door before she heavily sighed and walked to the wall across the door. She slid her back slowly against the wall and placed her head in her hands.

“What happened, Rogers?” Natasha asked, afraid of hearing the answer. Steve went over the events of the mission, and all Natasha could think was that she should’ve been there with you. She would’ve jumped in front of that bullet to save you in a heartbeat because she loved you. Wait. She loved you? Holy fuck! She loved you!

Natasha’s heart rate increased rapidly at her self revelation. She has loved you this entire time. God, she was so fucking blind. How could she not see what was right in front of her? She was madly in love with you. She let the things the Red Room drilled into her affect your relationship. Now, she wasn’t sure if she’d have the opportunity to make it up to you. That thought scared Natasha more than any mission ever could.

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•

1 hour later

An hour later, and the entire team was sprawled across the hallway of the medical wing. Wanda sat beside Natasha on the floor, comfortingly holding her hand. The rest of the team just stood, anxiously and impatiently waiting to hear about your status.

At the sound of the medical bay door opening, Natasha shot up from her spot on the floor and looked towards Helen Cho. “What’s her status? Is she okay? Did she make it?” Natasha immediately fired off questions at the Doctor. The team stood firmly behind Natasha as they looked at Dr. Cho, their eyes asking her the same questions Natasha did.

“She coded on the table a few times. The bullets hit some major arteries, but we managed to stop the bleeding. If she had arrived even a minute later than she did, she wouldn’t have made it.” The relief of the good news radiated off of earth’s mightiest heroes. Natasha almost let tears escape her eyes, but quickly blinked them back.

“Can I see her?” Natasha asked desperately. “Yes you can, but shes still asleep. The anesthesia was very strong so she’ll be out for a few more hours.” Helen spoke as she opened the door for Natasha. She entered and let out a sigh of relief as she caught sight of your chest rising and falling steadily. Natasha grabbed a nearby chair and placed it right beside your bed. She lightly stroked your hair before she gripped your hand.

•❅────────✧❅✦❅✧─────────❅•

3 hours later

You groaned as you slowly open your eyes and were met with an obnoxiously bright light hovering over you. You heard some shuffling before the light was shut off. You turned your head towards the other person in the room and you rolled your eyes at who it was.

“If you’re here to be an asshole, please leave. I’m not in the mood for it.” You spoke as you watched Natasha sit back down in the chair next to your bed.

“I’m not here for that. I wanted to apologize, Y/N. You were right, I was a bitch. You didn’t deserve the way I treated you, but I was just afraid.” Natasha began to speak as she seemingly appeared nervous. You’ve never seen her nervous before, you’re pretty sure no one ever has.

“I was so terrified because I love you. Everyone I love ends up leaving me, and I couldn’t watch you leave me. So, I thought it was best if I beat you to the punch.” Natasha looked down to her lap and played with her fingers absentmindedly. Your eyes widened as far as they could go at Natasha’s words. She loved you. She actually, verbally said it. That’s a huge fucking deal.

“I know my logic may not make the best sense, but what does make sense is the fact that I love you. I always have and I was just too stupid to tell you. I’m sorry, I love you so much.” Natasha spoke as she tore her gaze from her hands and up to your eyes.

You reached your hand out for hers and she shakily took your hand in hers. You almost let out a gasp at the contact, you missed her touch so much. “I won’t ever leave you, Natasha because I love you too. I’m sorry too. I was just as afraid as you were. We were both stupid.” You let out a little laugh at your last words. Natasha let out a chuckle as a tear fell from her eyes. Oh god, you’ve never seen her cry either.

“You scared me. I thought you weren’t going to make it. When I saw your body being wheeled down here…. all the blood… I-“ Natasha words were cut off as you smashed your lips against hers. You winced as the pain from your gunshot wounds radiated across your body, but you couldn’t care less about that right now. The only thing that mattered in this moment was that the woman you loved, loved you too. You’d never be afraid to express your love for her ever again.

───────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #avengers #request

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carelesswispe · 3 years

Note

heya! can I request how Dimitri, Edelgard, Claude, and Yuri would court their crush? headcannons and fluff please :") also if there a character limit? (if you can't do Yuri, please replace him with Ashe) ty in advance </3

- 🍙

thank you for requesting! i had a lot of fun writing this ask and sorry if this took a little longer than expected ;; nevertheless, i hope you enjoyed this, jelly filled donut anon!

>genre: fluff with some angst if you squint (mostly for dimitri and edelgard's part)

>warnings: slight mentions of fighting, slight spoilers for the events of fire emblem three houses, some angst

>pairings: dimitri x reader (gn), edelgard x reader (gn), claude x reader (gn), yuri x reader (gn)

Dimitri

Hh he's the loml

I feel like he would only start to court anyone after the five-year timeskip due to the guilt of the tragedy Duscur and the pent up emotions he’s kept bottled up. The fact that he hasn’t overcome his trauma would probably give him the need to distance himself from the one he has feelings with <\\3

Of course, no one’s able to resist the pull of love and despite his irrational thoughts that tell him to distance himself from you, the thoughts that tell him to stay with you were stronger, the feeling that you give him was like a breath of fresh air in the suffocating miasma of his guilt and trauma which gave him the strength to carry on.

But once the war is finally over and he’s sorted out his feelings for you, the first thing he would do is to see you; to finally let you know how he feels...and maybe even propose you to stay by his side forever--

As for courting you, after so many years of killing and brutal murder, I think that Dimitri would be quite awkward in expressing his feelings for you, after having bottled them up for so long.

He would get flustered easily from the little things you do or say to him but still deliver the smoothest compliments as if it was second nature. Just like he always has in the academy, if not, smoother.

If you were to bring this up to him, he would try to deny it with a flushed face, causing him to be hyper-aware of the little things that he used to say with a nonchalant attitude from then on...how adorable

Dimitri is probably not the most romantic man with having basically no experience with relationships and all and would resort to consulting, albeit after much pestering, Sylvain for relationship advice.

It was quite cute though, seeing this grown man trying to be romantic but failing, looking like a teen with his first crush. Although, that may not be far from the truth.

Of course, after failing to pull off any of the ridiculous date ideas Sylvain proposed to him for the umpteenth time, Dimitri decided to do things his own way, even if it meant stumbling around like a newborn deer.

Dimitri’s idea of a romantic date is probably a bit odd...after all, this is coming from the same man who thought that a dagger is a great parting gift. He would take you to shop around for things you might like, wanting to show you that he would grant you anything you desired. And...while he’s at it, he might buy you a weapon of your liking--

After shopping, he’d treat you to a meal while you’re at it. Although he may not care for the flavours of food, seeing you eat your favorite foods with a delighted expression is enough to make the food that much more appetizing.

Being a king, Dimitri would most likely be very busy, filling up paperwork and all and so going out often isn’t something he could afford to do. In order to make up for that, the free time that he does get is all spent with you. Even for a little while, being with you does take away some of the stress that comes with the amount of responsibility on his shoulders.

Whether it be sharing a cup of tea or simply enjoying yourselves in each other’s company, Dimitri is satisfied to spend any time with you

Edelgard

Similar to Dimitri, I feel like Edelgard wouldn’t want to think about feelings of love so soon as long as she hasn’t fulfilled her mission since she wouldn’t want to let her emotions to obstruct her conquest at all, as baseless as those worries might be

However, this doesn’t mean that she would be able to control these feelings of hers with perfect success. After all, try as she might, she’s still a human

Even though she can deny her feelings for you, she can’t deny the comfort your company gives her

Having tea together or even just spending any amount of time with you gives her the break she needs from her burdens she’s imposed upon herself and in times like these, it reminds her of the people she wants to be stronger to protect

Conversations with her mostly consist of her plans and motivations for her cause but outside of that, she also enjoys being able to indulge herself in some much needed rest and she feels like she could share anything with you.

Well, perhaps not her family history but she finds herself revealing the sides that she hid from the public.

Occasionally, she would vent out her feelings of frustration to you, perhaps impersonating and imitating the words of the person who had irritated her

Even if it’s for a little while, she finds herself being able to act like a child or to let loose without fear of being judged around you and it reminds her that she’s not alone in this conquest of hers. And that fact alone comforts her. If you’re by her side, even the rockiest of roads seem like a cake walk as long as you’re here for her.

After the war, she would subtly propose a future with the two of you where you and her could pave the way for the new future of the empire. And when you don’t get what she’s hinting at, she would just throw whatever inhibitions she had out of the window and just tell you in a more direct fashion

Although she fears rejection, she’d rather say out her feelings than to keep it trapped for any longer.

As the emperor, Edelgard is very busy. Despite this, for some reason, she finds herself sneaking away from Hubert’s unrelenting supervision from time to time just to spend time with you.

She finds herself giving the pettiest excuses to go on a date with you whenever her tight schedule has even the tiniest opening.

To her, spending time with you reminds her that she is not only Edelgard Von Hresvelg, the Emperor but El.

However, on occasions where she is unable to slip away from her aide’s watchful eye or whenever she has to go on a trip where she will be away from you for long periods of time, as soon as she is freed from her duties, she will immediately come see you, hopefully plan a vacation together away from all her responsibilities, even for a little while.

Speaking of vacations, this will be a regular occurrence between the two of you. Such vacations range from going out of the empire for some sightseeing to a simple staycation, relishing in each other’s company.

Claude

Unlike the previous two, I feel like Claude, although not necessarily looking for a relationship before the timeskip, he wouldn’t be too opposed to the idea if he falls in love.

But maybe if it's before the timeskip, the relationship between the two of you would be more casual than anything, just enjoying the moment rather than looking into the future. Of course, he would like to spend the rest of his days with you but it's more of a matter of whether that could be possible or not due to the uncertainty of the future.

Dates before the timeskip would consist of fun little lunch dates in the cafeteria, hanging out to the library afterwards.

Most of your dates together were spontaneous, Claude being the one to initiate it first.

Like you two could be chilling, minding your own business, being content in each others’ presence one minute and pranking the entirety of the monastery in another.

Every time the two of you got together, everyone started to go on full alert mode, fully expecting an explosion somewhere or something along the lines of that. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time…

After the timeskip, dates with him don’t really change much...on the surface. In reality, Claude puts more effort into each date, not that he hadn’t before.

It’s just that now, the more time he spends with you, the more certain he is that he wants you to stay by his side, forever.

These dates were comparatively tame as compared to before the timeskip, with him being more mature and responsible now, not wanting to take unnecessary risks now that he’s seen many of his followers come and go, he wouldn’t want you to be like them.

Expect calm candlelit dinners for most of the dates since he tries to reserve the evening for you, maybe going on a stroll around the kingdom, checking up on the state of his citizens with you.

Right, speaking of dinners, during dinner, he would tell the most interesting stories of times when he left the kingdom for important matters and you weren’t able to come along, often bringing home a trinket of sorts which reminded him of you.

I feel like on these trips, he would just pick up random stuff that caught his eye and thought you’d might like, looking forward to seeing your expression upon receiving his gift to you. He gets a little too excited sometimes and goes...overboard, buying WAY too much. On the bright side, now that you got him all fired up, he’ll do his best to rush home to you.

As much as possible, he invites you to go with him to the many many festivals in the kingdom just so that you wouldn’t get bored with just eating out with him. (not that you ever would) and plus, he enjoys seeing the different stalls and booths set up with you.

Yuri

Yuri is quite hard to get close to since he’s the leader of the underworld and all. And even if you do, he puts up a ridiculously high wall when he feels as if you take an interest in him in something other than a friend.

All these years of distrust had given him no choice but to surround himself with various walls. And should you try to break down these walls, he would panic and distance himself from you, anything to make you realise that he shouldn’t be the one to receive your affection. Classic romance novel moment

Of course, you persist and stay there for him anyway, maybe only just pushing it but not to the point where it gets uncomfortable for him. After the years, going through tough situations with you by his side especially when he needed it the most, without realising it, he had a spot for you on his previously cold heart. Maybe it had always been there, maybe not, he didn’t really know anymore.

When you two finally go out together, it comes out as something that was going to happen anyway to the other members of the Ashen Rats Wolves who, don’t even bother to act surprised, come on, even Constance saw it coming, Yuri, you didn’t fool anybody.

Dates with Yuri are always new and exciting, going out on undercover missions together, travelling across Fódlan. Yuri tries to discourage you from coming along because of the danger of each one of his missions but the more he refuses, the more you insist so after a while, he gets the hint that he won’t be able to stop you and eventually just invites you whenever he has to go on long missions without having you finding out about it on your own.

As much as he cares about each and every single one of his subjects in the underworld, being the lord of the underground isn’t exactly the most relaxing or safest job out there and sometimes he just needs a break from all that. Luckily, you’re there to give him some peace of mind. Just by having you by his side, he feels as if he’s transported into another world, a reverie away from all the dangers of his job. Even a protector needs someone to protect him, you know? And he trusts you. He trusts that you would always be there to protect him. Since you were there for him through thick and thin all this time.

You both got each other’s backs

(i wrote WAY too much for Yuri since man i had a wild Yuri phase and i still do and i am just RELIVING IT as i write this)

#fe3h dimitri #fe3h yuri #fe3h claude #fe3h edelgard #fe3h headcanons #fe3h x reader #Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd x reader #edelgard von hresvelg x reader #claude von riegan x reader #yuri leclerc x reader

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

Text

Somebody to love (PART 1/2): Richard Alonso Munoz x fem!reader

Summary: Whilst your neighbour, Richard, is in love with love, you are a little more commitment averse. When he performs a small act of kindness though, your feelings start to unravel, and you wonder if you may have found somebody to love - right next-door all along.

Richard is a sweet, gentle man, and so I hoped to create a sweet, gentle story. I hope you enjoy spending some time in it!

I HAVE POSTED THIS IN TWO PARTS, ONLY BECAUSE OF LENGTH. WHILST YOU COULD PROBABLY(?) READ EITHER PART AS A STANDLONE THEY ARE MEANT TO WORK TOGETHER.

Genre / tropes: pining, friends to lovers (sort of - neighbours to lovers), getting together, domesticity, fluff, smut, nothing bad happens, ends happily, quite a slow burn for a one-shot, I guess?

Author’s note: This is part of my friends to lovers event, prompt requested by @foxilayde who I adore and you should too. Prompt was: he does something utterly mundane which shows how well he knows you, and your feelings hit you. I took some liberties with the prompt, and there is zero pressure to read this - IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A BLURB! :P More of these requests in pinned post!

Warnings/ Ratings:

PART ONE (Mature, 18+ ONLY): swearing; sexual themes (erotic poetry, thirsty internal monologue, sexual tension); food themes inc. mentions/consumption; family mentions - reader has nieces but they need not be biological; brief mentions of the prison system - Richard is a Corrections Officer; exceedingly brief mention of the Holocaust in context of a non-fiction book Richard is reading (I believe this is a canon read but may be wrong); loneliness (theme, not too angsty); self-esteem issues if you squint.

PART TWO: (Explicit, 18+ ONLY): swearing; explicit sex, including - oral m + f receiving; unprotected vaginal sex; creampie; f squirting (first time doing so); well-endowed man, ahem.

Word count: 10k for part 1, 9k for part 2.

You had been thinking about the small gesture all day. You had been distracted all the way through your shift, and then all through dinner with a friend.

Richard -your neighbour to the right- had turned-up at your door that morning, before setting off on his way to work. His visit had been unexpected, and you had opened the door in a fluster, seeing him greet you with a characteristically soft smile - just visible from beneath the thick brush of his bold, impressive moustache.

He had held them out to you - in between his index and middle finger. A small book of postage stamps.

You had simply looked at him in confusion for a moment.

“For your letters,” he had stated, in his soft-spoken voice. “You said last night you didn’t have any stamps, and I found these in my drawer, so...”

It was true. You had said that. Had forgotten you’d said it. Had barely registered running into him, since it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

Your routine overlapped minimally with Richard’s -though more so since his new role in the letter room had him working days exclusively- but sometimes, you would meet serendipitously, as neighbours tend to do. Last night, in the liminal space between your work day ending and your home life beginning, you had stopped to chat with him, and -you remembered now- had made some offhand comment about needing some stamps.

The topic of letters had come up; naturally, given his new position. It caused you to mention having written some letters to your nieces -packaged up with little illustrated portraits you’d gotten commissioned for their new bedrooms. Letters which you hadn’t gotten around to posting.

And so, here Richard was. On your doorstep. With stamps.

It was a little thing. So little, it didn’t even register at the time. In fact, you had bundled him off your porch with a quick, cursory “Thanks, Richard!”, prioritising finishing your morning scramble and making it out of the door on time.

It didn’t register in the moment, no; but you were noticing it now, alright.

“-so, this morning,” you explain to your friend opposite you in the pizza parlour, as she absent-mindedly dips her crusts in some hot sauce, “there he is on my doorstep, and he’d brought me some stamps.”

Your friend, Jaz, dips her chin and slowly raises her perfectly shaped eyebrows, her glossed lips curling in an amused, incredulous smile. “So, let me get this straight. He brought you some... stamps, which he already had, from his house next door,” she recaps, her smile inching wider by the second, “and now you want to fuck him?!”. Her eyebrows knit together in faux concern and she clamps a hand over yours where it rests on the table. “Sweetie, we need to talk. How low is your bar these days? Exactly how dick-starved are you?”

Ordinarily you’d be more than game for the light fun she pokes at you. Would even have a smart riposte ready. This time, though, you simply huff, your jaw twitching in minor irritation at how flippant she is being. So, shaking your head gently, you pull your hand away from hers, folding your jacket around yourself, suddenly feeling exceedingly self-conscious.

“Never mind. I’m obviously not telling it right. And, wait - hold up- who in the hell said I wanted to...” you look around the parlour, voice dropping to an indignant whisper as if anyone around you would hear or care about your hypothetical sexploits “...fuck him?” Your tone is defensive, and you shift to take a masking nibble on your straw, slurping the dregs of your soda and bouncing your leg nervously under the table.

Your friend merely raises an eyebrow, with a healthy -and not entirely unfounded- scepticism, and so, you try to rein your protestations in, lest you get slammed with a “methinks you doth protest too much”.

“Okay, okay,” Jaz concedes, holding up her hands and leaning back in her chair. “All I’m saying is, it seems like you have a hard-on for him all of a sudden. You’ve lived by him for years and you’ve never noticed the guy! It’s just stamps, baby cakes. It’s just your paunchy, kindly neighbour, who gets milkshake stuck in his moustache.”

At least he’s not afraid to make a mess of himself when he’s slurping, you think idly, your eyebrow ticking up - the thought leading you in a very particular direction and sending a sudden scorching heat to your cheeks. Also - paunchy? I like a beautiful soft tummy to rest my head on, thank you very much.

Yeesh. You are not okay. Still, before you go full feral, you shrug your shoulders in partial concession, widening your eyes in innocence. “Uh huh. Sure. Yeah.”

“Seriously?” Jaz continues, shaking her head in good-natured disbelief - blatantly seeing right through you. “Are stamps your love language now, or what the fuck?”

She’s not wrong. It is very… sudden. You’ve never felt that way about Richard before. But is it so preposterous to think you might begin to?

“Jeez! Who said anything about love?!” You swirl your straw in your cup, concentrating on puncturing the remaining bubbles and ignoring your friend’s peals of bemused laughter. “Look, okay? I guess you’re right, Jaz. Maybe I’m just dick-starved,” you suggest, a smile finally claiming your lips. “It has been… a little while. And the last encounter was not very... inspiring.” You wiggle your eyebrows at her and your shared laughter mingles in the space between you. Still, you’re more than a little keen to deflect, and you bounce your foot more furiously under the table in your haste to change the subject. “I just thought it was sweet of him, that’s all, but… forget it, okay? Tell me everything about your hot date with Jackson.”

As soon as the invitation is given, Jaz jumps on it. And, as you listen to her spill the tea on her latest hook-ups with her fancy man, you try really hard to focus - but you can’t help that your thoughts keep wandering time and again to a certain man. A man with the kindest, most soulful cola-coloured eyes. Your neighbour to the right.

You’re unsure why, but you feel a little bent out of shape - a little annoyed, even- that Jaz was so quick to dismiss Richard. Particularly that she had seemed to miss the whole meaning behind his small gesture. He was listening to you. He was thinking about you. And, as you dwell further on it, you realise that maybe -just maybe- you want the kind of guy who brings you stamps, goddammit.

Shit - maybe Jaz wasn’t too far off when she said stamps were your love language after all.

And, true, maybe you hadn’t paid the faintest bit of romantic attention to Richard -for the most part- in the years you’d lived side-by-side with him... but maybe it was time to start. Maybe, in fact, it was well overdue.

***

Granted, it hadn’t struck you right away how sweet Richard’s gesture was, but as soon as it had, you started to notice everything. To remember everything.

You remembered how he pushed a flyer through your door one evening, just in case you might be interested in the latest art exhibit going on at the local rec centre. You recalled how he had duct-taped the handle of your garbage can back together after it spectacularly broke one morning, causing your trash to spill over the sidewalk. It hadn’t seemed like a huge thing at the time, but now, as you imagine him painstakingly unfurling the roll and passing it around and around the broken piece, entirely on his own steam, it takes on a new meaning.

You have begun to notice - really notice- how he always smiles and stops to chat to you, his face lighting up as if he is genuinely pleased to see you. You have begun to notice everything he has done for you, over the years, a deluge of kindness flooding your heart. Details -little things- which seemed insignificant at the time, but which weigh heavier than gold now that you reflect on them.

And, most of all, you have noticed him.

Richard.

You have noticed his positivity. That bounce he gets in his step when he’s enthusiastic about something (which is always). The way his expressive, long-lashed eyes reveal everything he’s feeling whenever he talks or listens - his emotions and his compassionate heart pinned firmly on his sleeve, as prominent as his Corrections Officer badge. You notice how handsome he is; a fact which has inexplicably passed you by for the longest time. Perhaps, because of how understated he is? Not cocky and assured and alpha like the guys you’re usually drawn to.

Tonight, though, most of all, you are noticing that he’s not home, as you sit on your front porch steps, entirely locked out of your own house. You know for a fact that a couple of neighbours have spotted you there - you’ve observed pairs of curtains twitching- and yet no-one has come to your aid so far, mean bastards. You know, in contrast, that Richard would help anyone who needed it, without hesitation. And, it’s fair to say that sitting here, waiting for him to return and help you out, is certainly providing you plenty of opportunity to dwell on thoughts of him. In fact, you can’t wait for him to get home; not only because you wish for relief from the elements, no. But because the thought of seeing him actually excites you. You are looking forward to it.

Finally, thankfully, after the evening chill has long begun to bite at your extremities, you see Richard approaching. He whistles a jaunty tune as he comes up his drive, happy as usual. From his silhouette, you note that he’s dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and his usual ill-fitting jeans, his keys already jangling in his hand, and he stops abruptly when he sees you sat out front as though his feet are glued to the floor.

You can just about make out the smile which tugs at his lips, moments before his words do. He always seems happy to see you, and, on this occasion, you echo that feeling too, more so than ever. “Locked out?” he calls, and at the sound of his voice you stand, hopefully, clasping your purse on your shoulder, your own feet glued to the floor too.

“Yeah,” you call, throwing your voice over to him. “Waiting for the locksmith.”

You grip the strap of your purse a little tighter, as Richard takes a few steps closer, a polite but cautious smile lighting his face. “Want to wait inside?”

“Hell yes,” you gush with a relieved exhale of breath, gratefully trotting around to meet him on his porch where the security light bathes him in a halo of orange. “You’re a babe. Thank you, Richard.” You allow your eyes to gently rove over him as you approach. He’s wearing a turquoise bowling shirt, you realise. A bowling shirt with “Alonso Muñoz” stitched in an adorable flourish of red embroidery above the left shirt pocket. What’s more, he looks cute as all hell in it too. You seem to recall he’s in a casual league with some buddies.

“It’s no trouble,” he says with a warm, disarming smile, deep, pleasing creases radiating from around his eyes – and, even though you aren’t usually one to be lost for words, it is all you can do to smile back at him vacantly, clutching your purse strap tight enough that your knuckles strain.

Richard pauses too, seemingly taking a moment to remember the keys bunched and readied in his hand - as though your presence has pushed all other thoughts out of his head. “You must be cold. Let’s get you warmed up,” he says finally, snapping himself out of his stupor.

Yes please.

And so, with a bashful flutter of his long lashes as you shuffle even closer to him, Richard opens the door and guides you inside, hover-handing his palm at the small of your back.

He smiles widely as he is welcomed by his little fur ball, Lady, the white dog yipping and wagging and jumping up at his shins. Richard stoops to bundle her into his arms, the animal rasping its tongue over his shapely jaw, which he raises as he squirms away from the wet, eager kisses.

“Aw, you’re so precious, Lady,” you baby-talk, reaching out to apply fond scritches to the mop of her head. “I forget how cute you are, little bean!”

Richard chuckles with mirth, seemingly warmed by your sweet interaction with his pupper, and only when Lady gets restless in his arms does he set about plopping her down and refilling her food bowl.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Richard offers, before he briefly excuses himself, dipping away into another room and signalling he’ll be right back.

With Richard gone and Lady chowing down on her dried food, you take the opportunity to glance around the place, surprised by how at home you do feel, already, even though you’ve never set foot in here before. You’ve been in his yard before; for example, when he’s hosted block barbeques, or, when the summer sun has withered from your yard, you’ve sometimes shimmied your deck chair to be side by side with his as you languished together in the remaining patch of sun. But you’ve never been inside his home. Now that you are, you drink in the details of him, eager for any new information you can glean, and scanning over the books and paintings and photographs with particular interest. You smile as your eyes fall upon Lady’s bed, filled with a procession of carefully arranged stuffed animals and chew toys. You are warmed by the painting of a beachy, mountain-edged, palm-fronded sunset, propped against the ‘sill.

You note that his place is homely and well-tended, and you also can’t help but notice that the place signals a rather solitary existence. One plate and one fork drying on the dish rack. A perfectly placed easy chair -for one- in front of the TV, the small couch to its side covered with stacks of books and papers, as if it has been a while since he entertained a guest. In fact, you would take a seat -make yourself at home- but you don’t want to intrude on His Seat, and nor do you wish to disturb his personal papers to clear the couch.

As you ponder this, Richard re-enters, extending a soft, flannel shirt towards you. “Here. In case you’re cold.”

You smile your thanks to him (grinning like a dumbass, actually) and you gratefully slip the garment over your shoulders, feeling instantly warmed. As you wrap it around yourself, you get a waft of fresh-scented detergent. You would never have guessed that you’d be able to recognise any particular Richard-y scent, but as the shirt’s pleasant odour engulfs you, you realise it is infinitely familiar. That it is wildly comforting.

You watch, a brief moment of awkwardness as Richard self-consciously combs his fingers through his thick moustache; sweeps a hand over his already immaculate, plastered-down curls. He looks so... neat. Controlled. Restrained. It crosses your mind that you’d like to mess him up a bit, see him come undone - of course, if he wanted.

Then, noticing your seating predicament, Richard surges over to gather up the strewn piles of mess, shifting them on to the coffee table instead. “Here, take a seat,” he indicates. “Sorry for the mess- I emptied the bureau looking for the stamps. Please. Every time I think to put it back I get distracted.”

His comment is nonchalant, but for the second time since he arrived home, you are at a loss for words, and you can only stare at him as you sink your ass down, gratefully, on to the now emptied couch. He’d gone to that effort for you? And now he’s apologising right to your face for the mess of it?

“That was kind of you, Richard,” you state, finding words again, and he shuffles nervously from shoe to shoe in response. You note that his brown skin grows increasingly flushed, with a deepening undertone of crimson as his eyes skim cautiously over you. “And thank you for letting me hang here. Promise I’ll be out of your hair soon. The locksmith should only be...” You suck in air through your teeth as you un-pocket your cell and glance at the time. “Yikes. Another hour. I’m so sorry to get in the way.”

His moustache twitches with a shy smile, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at you from beneath his lashes, his eyes all big and pretty. He certainly doesn’t look put-out, at least. “Not at all - it’s… really nice to have you here,” Richard insists, polite and sincere as ever. You are the one to feel bashful now, and you tug his shirt more firmly around your shoulders for comfort, the act serving to further fluster you and entrance him, it seems. He seems frozen to the spot again, and meanwhile, you’re now feeling overly warmed.

He looks a little lost, for a moment, as though it’s been so long since he had a visitor that he doesn’t quite know what to do with you. In the next second though, his practiced hospitality kicks in, his warm and affable nature shining through as he determines a course of action. “Have you eaten? I could fix you some dinner.”

You are hungry, you think, your tongue darting out along your bottom lip at the thought of food. Well, if he’s going to feed you, you’re not letting him do all the work -you decide- so you tentatively rise from your seat, clapping your palms together, signifying action. “Only if I can help you?”

“O- okay. Yeah. Thank you,” he nods; then, he comes to stand with his hands on his hips, thumbs to the front, causing his soft, rounded belly to protrude exaggeratedly from under his shirt. You’re not sure why that sends a very subtle flare of heat down between your legs, but it does all the same.

Meanwhile, oblivious to your thirsty inner monologue, Richard looks at you reservedly, until you smile and cross together to the humble kitchen, where, with another bashful flutter of his lashes he begins grabbing out utensils and ingredients. All the while, he moves seamlessly around you, so careful never to touch or to invade your personal space. The pronounced and careful lack of contact makes you realise, however -as he skims his body so close yet so far from yours in the compact space- that maybe you desperately want him to touch you. That you wouldn’t mind if his hand brushed your back, or lower. That maybe having him envelop his arms around you would feel as warm and comforting as his shirt – or even more so. That even, perhaps, if he pressed you from behind into the counter, his soft stomach leading, followed by his wide hips pinning you in place, his moustache grazing up the column of your neck, that you wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, the thought of his touch, and even the mere potential of it, fills you with an excited buzz deep in your belly. A thrill that you haven’t felt for a long time – at least, not quite like this.

Right now, though, you set these thoughts aside to focus on the task at hand. You move around each other a little awkwardly, but thankfully, the conversation flows far more easily than your bodies. Richard’s shy and gentle, but he’s friendly. Inquisitive and interesting, and he keeps you chatting. And, so, you converse and cook together, until the resulting, homely odours waft into your nose, keeping your mind firmly on your much more literal hunger; at least, for the most part.

When the steaming food is plated up, Richard invites you to take a seat on the couch and you oblige, watching him fondly and with interest as he produces various condiments, a bottle of Mr. Chimi’s Churri sauce taking pride of place on the surface in front of you. You add a healthy dollop.

“Mmm, this is so good, thank you,” you say approvingly when he invites you to dig in, eagerly wolfing down forkfuls.

As soon as Richard has plonked himself down in his chair and balanced his own plate on his lap, he flicks on the TV – likely, more out of habit than anything. A vibrant telenovela sparks to life in the background, a particularly melodramatic scene in full swing. You smile to yourself. You recognise the show - you’ve heard him talk about it too. Even get the impression he watches religiously.

Richard’s eyes fix on the screen for a moment, and he is visibly suckered-in by the unfolding plot, his food disappearing at an impressive rate as he scoops it up to his mouth while he watches. Still, he doesn’t forget you’re there. Quite the contrary.

“It’s so sad,” he explains for your benefit, between his mouthfuls of dinner, his eyes overflowing with warmth as he turns to you. “Carlos and Adela are so in love, but they can’t be together. She’s engaged to Luis. She has to stay with him to save the family home because she already signed some papers.”

You smile, Richard’s heartfelt summary filling you with warmth. He cares about people. It’s what he does. Apparently, he’s even invested in the fictional ones. You try hard to supress your good-natured amusement at quite how invested he is; however, when his gaze meets yours once again, flicking back and forth between you and the screen, he must catch a hint of it in your expression. “Sorry,” he flusters. “I can turn this off, if you like?” he offers gently, eyes apologetic.

“Are you kidding?” you respond, with a warm smile. You’re no stranger to becoming over-invested in fiction, you suppose, and besides - you like the prospect of sharing this with him. “Catch me up some more,” you encourage. “So, we’re rooting for Carlos?”

Richard smiles gratefully, nodding vigorously in response. You like seeing him like this. In his own element, his own environment, doing things he typically enjoys. It’s nice to see him living his best life, thriving on the drama of the trope-laden plot. “I hope Carlos crashes the wedding. Luis doesn’t deserve her.”

“Yikes. You’re brutal, Alonso Muñoz,” you tease, a musical laugh lilting out of you.

You chat back and forth, an amused smile twitching at the corner of your mouth for the duration, and although Richard seems somewhat entranced by the developing storyline, he seems even more invested in you. He makes sure to listen to you, even when you’re sure you must be talking over an important detail. He ensures he fills you in on any prior plot point you may need for context.

And, while his eyes do intermittently flick back toward the screen, your eyes, however, remain firmly fixed on him. On the singular swoop of his meticulously parted, grizzled curls. On his long lashes blinking, his deep eyes shining beneath them, glinting in tandem with the light from the screen. His warm, brown skin and the lines etched in it when he smiles cast with a bluish hue, flickering light and shadow ghosting over the contours of his strong nose and chin and his heavy brow. The soft, inviting rolls of his stomach as he relaxes into his chair, and the way his belly shakes when he laughs. Of course, his glorious moustache, positively flourishing on his upper lip. Last but not least, what most gets you though, are his eyes. Eyes as kind and expressive and open as this sweet man’s heart is.

You laugh alongside him, hoping he is enjoying the company as much as you are. You could get used to this, you think; used to him. Indeed, you have no idea how you have managed to overlook this man, beautiful inside and out, until now. You resolve though, that you won’t make that same mistake again.

Eventually, the credits roll, and you thank Richard once more for the food. He carries your plate over to the sink, insisting -when you offer- that the dishes can languish there for one night. And so, instead of rising, you pat the couch cushion beside you invitingly. His throat bobs around a hard swallow as he stands before you, his feet momentarily glued to the floor; yet again. When Richard finally musters movement and takes a seat next to you, he places himself as far away from you as he possibly can on the small two-seater; out of respect rather than repulsion, you are more than sure. However, the compact space affords him little chance to keep his distance, and his clothed thigh presses warm against your own. He doesn’t make any attempt to move away though, and, equally, nor do you.

“Thank you, Richard,” you say, your voice softer and far more breathy than you intended, now that he is so close to you.

He clears his throat self-consciously, before his eyes crease with a sincere smile. “It’s no trouble. Anytime.” He sounds like he means it too.

You lean back, settling yourself deeper into the worn and slightly lumpy couch cushions. His posture, meanwhile, is still alarmingly stiff beside you, his torso upright and his hands folded formally in his lap. If you had to hazard a guess, you’d say that, perhaps, you made him nervous.

“Richard, I don’t bite,” you soothe. “Sit back. Relax. It’s your home.”

He nods in concession, exhaling his tensely held breath. “Yes, Ma’am,” he sounds obediently. You don’t think you’ve ever had anyone call you Ma’am before; but you note that you don’t entirely mind it, out of Richard’s mouth. You maybe even… like it?

Anyway, outside of your increasingly feral internal monologue, Richard reaches over to flick on the soft, ambient lamp to his side -the room having grown thick with shadows- and then he is sinking back, resting his head against the couch cushions alongside you.

You turn your head and tilt your torso a little towards him. When Richard does the same, it evokes a sense of intimacy that you weren’t all the way prepared for; the rest of the room seems to disappear as you are both held in a close circle of oranged light, the TV nothing but a lulling, background hum now. “I mean it... I... I wanted to thank you properly. For the stamps.”

“It’s no trouble,” he repeats, his voice deep and resonant and close now, catching you off-guard. No trouble? Sure. Despite the fact he’d clearly emptied-out everything in his living room to find them. “Did you send your letters?” he enquires softly, his eyebrows jumping up a little.

You can’t supress the bittersweet smile which inches over your face as you respond. “I did, and I got the cutest video call from my nieces when their mail arrived.” That wouldn’t have happened. Not without him being so thoughtful. You’d have put it off and put it off. The letters would still be sat on your dresser.

Richard’s eyes light, and he looks genuinely pleased for you, his face glowing. “I’m glad.” He smiles, revealing a flash of his cute, ever so slightly imperfect (and therefore entirely perfect) teeth. Finally beginning to relax again, his hands rest flat astride his sturdy thighs and his head lolls towards you. With his next words, his voice becomes even softer. “I can tell you miss them since they moved away. Portland, right? I, uh. I really hoped you would send those letters. I know how much they can mean to people.”

“Portland. Yeah. Wow, you remember that?” You have to admit that you are a little shocked. Richard listened to you. Really listened to you. And, not only that, but he clearly read between the lines, connecting the dots between each one of your ad hoc interactions in a way which you -apparently- had failed to do thus far.

Jaz would scoff at you right now, you know it, if she could see you becoming all shy and flustered for him.

And now you want to fuck him?

But it wasn’t only that he brought you the stamps, okay? It was why he did it. He did it, because he knew what it might mean for you. Because, evidently, not only did he notice that you were sad -about something you barely let yourself acknowledge, by the way- but he also cared enough to try to make you happy instead.

The realisation that he cares is an emotional thing, causing a slight lump to rise in your throat. It should probably make you happy, but in fact, it saddens you. It saddens you because -you realise now- you have taken for granted all this time how easy Richard is to talk to. Have taken for granted the way he has been privy to so many candid details about your life.

Richard has often been the first person you’ve spoken to when you arrived home -sometimes the only person- and you have never hesitated to share your good news and triumphs with him. Nor have you hesitated to vent, sharing the more difficult details of your bad days. You’ve taken for granted just how much of yourself you’ve cumulatively shared with him; in a way you don’t often share with anyone else. Richard has been an important part of your life all these years, without you truly realising it. Perhaps because your interactions with him have tended to exist in such a liminal, peculiar space in your day. Perhaps because you were too close to see the big picture, instead of this collection of valuable, little things.

You hug your arms around yourself. You can merely repeat it again. “Thank you. For real.”

“It’s just a little thing,” he dismisses, modestly, and you are very suddenly tired of him dismissing himself. You want him to know how appreciated he is. Embodying this, your hand darts out to grip his where it rests on his thigh, and Richard looks down at this small spectacle in mild shock; and yet, he doesn’t pull away from your touch.

“It’s not. It’s a lot of things, Richard. I want you to know I appreciate everything you do. It has... It has been a long time since anyone was so sweet to me.”

Feeling self-conscious suddenly, following your outburst of affection, you inch your hand away from his; retreating, and reining yourself back in. For a moment, Richard’s fingers twitch up from his pant leg as though they might chase yours; but then, his hand stills, settled on his thigh just as before.

Then, a crease appears at his brow. “None of your Adonises are sweet to you?”

Your nose crinkles in confusion. “My... Adonises?”

“The... your... gentlemen visitors.”

Your brow creases, as you try to detect whether there is any judgement or malice in his observation, but, knowing him, you are not inclined to think there is. Still, you feel there is more to uncover. He’s noticed your dates coming and going then? He thinks they’re… Adonises? He’s surprised they aren’t sweet to you?

Still, as soon as the words are out of his mouth, perhaps realising how they might be misinterpreted, that crimson undertone to his skin flares again, this time reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. He looks like he wants the couch to swallow him up, and you can’t help but feel for him. “I just meant...”

“-It’s okay,” you say, swooping in to rescue him before he can start helplessly blabbering. He keenly takes the invitation to stop, his mouth suddenly clamping shut, ready to listen. And you? You are ready to talk. The words seem to come so easily around him. “I guess... you’re right. I’ve been on some dates but they...” you sigh, furrowing your brow as you try to find the words. “That’s all fine. Most of the time it’s really fun. Or it was. But... lately...”

“Lately?” Richard encourages, when you don’t go on, his voice barely above a whisper as he hangs on your every word.

“Lately, I think… That maybe it would be nice to have somebody who doesn’t just come and go. To have… somebody to love, I guess?”

“Somebody to love,” Richard ponders, his expression becoming wistful. His head begins moving up and down ever so slowly, gradually building to a more adamant nod. He smiles, but his eyes don’t crease at the corners this time. “That really does sound nice.”

It shocks you, but seeing him even a little sad, like that, has your hands fisting in the material of your skirt, as you resist the urge to reach out for him and offer comfort. You want to cup his face in your hand and kiss him senseless, until his eyes glow once more, imbued with his characteristic positivity. You want to care for him and protect him and make him laugh and spend time with him and…

Fuck.

You want to love him, you realise, and the thought scares you down to your bones. It scares you enough that you sit forwards, breaking this most peculiar tension. Changing the topic. And, abrupt as it may be, at least it works.

“What are you reading?” you ask, shrugging his shirt from your shoulders as a hot, cloying flush creeps along your skin and up your neck, prickly enough that it feels like fingertips. As you imagine Richard’s fingers dancing the same path over your bare shoulder blade, slipping beneath the spaghetti strap of your top, peeling it down, you hurriedly pick up the first book you can put your hands on, turning it in your palms without taking in a word written on it.

Poor Richard. You must be giving the sweet man whiplash.

Still, he leans forward in his seat too, sombrely taking the book from your hands and gazing down at the cover.

“Ah. It’s a bleak topic,” he warns. A deep crease appears in his brow. “It’s Night, by Elie Wiesel – a survivor’s account of his experiences during the Holocaust.”

Your expression turns grave and pinched and you nod, listening carefully as Richard recounts some of the key details. Then, together, you continue to pore through the pile, tackling each book in turn. You listen intently to Richard recount the various synopses, passionate and precise and sensitive in his summaries. It seems he reads a lot of non-fiction. Heavy reading, with many titles about the prison system, and atrocities - often both. But, you understand why it’s important to him. You are grateful to understand how his empathetic nature begets yet more empathy, as he seeks to expand his knowledge of experiences and histories different to his own.

At first sight, you think it’s seemingly at odds that such a positive man seeks out such dark accounts, but it makes sense to you, in a strange way. After all, he wants to understand how things can be better. He believes they can be. You don’t know anything more Richard-y than that.

Reaching for the next title, you find it is a little different to the rest. You are reluctant to segue too abruptly from such heavy topics, keen to give them the merit they deserve, but at the same time you are grateful for a little lightness as you pick-up what appears to be a slightly trashy romance novel. You smile fondly, connecting the dots between this and the telenovela plotlines that seem to grab his attention; the way he seems so in love with love. Again, you consider how the two sides of him -the more serious and seemingly more trivial - may seem at odds, but that actually, they each reveal what is at the core of him. He is interested in people. He’s invested.

“And this book?” you ask tentatively, not even trying to stifle your smile as your eyes wander over the cover, two half-dressed people locked in an erotic, sordid embrace. You are especially keen to hear what he has to say about this one too.

“Well… Like you said. Somebody to love - right? Don’t we all need those kinds of stories?”

Your eyes glow with admiration. Whilst he’s not cocky or overly assured, no, you are coming to admire Richard’s quiet confidence in who he is and what he cares about. His integrity and his lack of embarrassment in the things he chooses to value. His delight and lack of shame in the things that he enjoys. He’s not afraid to be who he is. You think that’s wonderful.

Next, your eyes flick back to the final book on the pile, partly for completeness but also out of curiosity. You feel with each title you pick-up, you are learning something about him; and, frankly, you want to know everything there is to find out. You look at it with a start however, when you realise what the final book in the pile is.

It’s your book. It’s the anthology of poetry you’d self-published around a year ago, and sold at your local readings. You reach for it instantly, almost cradling it in your hands like a precious object. Not because it’s yours - not exactly- but because it’s his. His copy looks eminently different to the spares you still have boxed-up in your house, all fresh and crisp, spines unbroken. This one looks a little worn around the edges - well-thumbed, spine broken-in. Some of the pages are dog-eared, and various makeshift bookmarks are sticking out of it. You’ve never seen one of your publications looking so… beautiful. So treasured.

“You actually read this?” you ask, a little overwhelmed, your heart hammering, and tears spiking in your eyes.

“I read it often. I told you, I really like it!”

You stroke the cover with your palm. “Honestly? I thought you were just being polite.”

When you’d mentioned to him for the first time that you wrote poetry -specifically erotic poetry- and had invited him to the reading, Richard had looked, at first, as though he was ready to die of embarrassment. Regardless, he’d still come along - your only neighbour to have done so. You vaguely remember having spoken to him the day afterward about it, but when you think of the show itself, you can’t picture him there. Now, you desperately wrack your memory of the event, searching for him. Wishing you could recall him showing-up for you in such an important way.

It had been such a blur, though. You’d had a lot of friends there. You’d had a date there, who, at the time, you’d thought was the be all and end all. Now, however, you curse yourself for overlooking Richard. You wish you could go back and root through the crowd for him. You wish you could bring him into the spotlight. Bring him into your arms. And yet, while you ponder all of this, Richard reaches for the book and gently lifts it from your hands, with a gentle hum. It practically falls open on one particular page.

“This one is my favourite,” he admits bashfully. “Salted Peach. I must have it almost memorised by now.” You turn to him, studying his face. His expressive eyes are full of a heat gentler and more nuanced than your words could ever hope to be, you think, as he pores over the page. Over your words.

“No way. Prove it, Alonso Muñoz,” you challenge, exhaling a laugh that is surprised and disbelieving and utterly delighted all at once.

You don’t expect him to take you up on it, but the man sets his face, both more determined and more playful than you think you have seen him so far, as he hands the book back to you. “Okay,” he smiles, softly. “I’ll give it a go.”

You hold your breath as his eyes flutter closed -so that you know he has zero chance of cheating- his long lashes fanning-out beautifully over his cheek. You take the chance to look over his handsome features, while he can’t interrupt your surreptitious study.

Then, he begins. His voice is hushed and unsure, yet the richness of it washes over you, right from the first line.

“Like salt kept on the lips,

To resist is to rust,” he begins, and your breath catches in your chest.

“Let me be an oiled thing under you, all fluid and opening smoothly

With keen, slick hinges.”

First, you are struck that he really does know it. That he really does remember it, almost word perfect. You exhale a breath in disbelief, your chest filling with butterflies.

“A ruined peach

Spilling nectar over your thumb,” he continues, and desire knots deep in your belly.

It’s not that the words are explicit – they aren’t. But something about the way he recites them -recounts your desire- makes them feel positively sinful, his voice quietly confident and subtly erotic as he recites your words. You don’t only hear the words, but you feel them, almost as if his thumb really has punctured you.

You are becoming slick already, feeling like a ruined, grateful fruit. You want to be his fruit, you think. His salted peach.

“You can be my stiffness

My joints

My... (my stone heart? Is that right?)” he interjects.

“It’s perfect,” you encourage, your voice trembling slightly, even as his grows ever more robust, and, as you bolster him, he sits a little taller in his seat, his posture proud and the new confidence reflected in his voice as he proceeds. As he grows, stiffer, taller, you become liquid, and you writhe your heat subtly against your seat. You press your thighs closer together.

Enraptured, you watch his lips and tongue move seamlessly around the words. The micro-expressions on his face, revealing how tenderly he wishes to portray them, every word imbued with care. With expression, and feeling.

“(Got it...) My stone heart

And I, boneless;

Bodiless flesh.”

As he continues, you close your eyes too. You stop checking the words against the book and you let yourself feel them. You let them wash over you. You let his voice wash over you; to sink and curl into the pit of you. You squirm in place, and yet this shifting makes you all too aware of your stillness – this fixed position and distance from him, when surely you should be moving and surging and undulating on him? Surely you should be leaning in and hearing the deep yet gentle timbre of his words waft into the shell of your ear, or fanning over your skin?

Surely, he should be touching you?

Your heart is racing.

“Salt me, then.

Lick your lips and taste me; sweetly.”

You want to taste him. Be tasted.

“Only on your tongue, do I exist.

Only in your hand, do I perish.”

You want to exist and perish on his hand.

“Do not keep me on your lips.

Oil me with your writhing”

You want to be swallowed by him. Oiled by him. Made slick.

“Or else I rust.”

You are rapt. His words -no, your words, spoken by him- melting you.

His voice. So rich, and so sensual, and you could swear, as you listen to him, that your words have never sounded so erotic. That you have never felt them as deeply as you do now, hearing them fall from his tongue and his lips. Hearing them flow from his heart, as he recites them in a way you’ve never heard them; an interpretation entirely unique to him.

In fact, listening to him, like this, lights a flame in the pit of you, a heat suffusing through you, warming everywhere. He warms you, even from this distance, and you can feel how much heat he has to give. And, on boy. You want to lap it up. Every. Last. Drop.

“I... I forgot the next part,” he adds, shyly, his confidence wavering, and you open your eyes, beginning to recite the rest for him.

“Oh, love,

I long to be a fluid thing;

Under you.”

It sounds… true. It feels right. It feels so right to say those words to him. So right that it knocks the air from out of you.

At the sound of your voice, you watch a soft, unfiltered smile appear on Richard’s face, his still-closed eyes creasing deliciously at the corners, his moustache animating with it.

“And yet you resist me; rust me,” you continue, voice full of fissures, and Richard’s eyes slowly peel open, pooling with heat. This time, unlike the other times his eyes have met yours, he holds your gaze - doesn’t drop his eyes from yours in a flurry of bashfulness and fluttered lashes. He holds your gaze and he holds you, in this moment. In this little circle of intimacy, his eyes glowing, all for you. Pooling with that heat, so nuanced and gentle, but every bit as hot as anything you’ve ever touched.

Your voice and your smile and your heart crack wide open as you continue.

“You are salt kept on my lips;”

You complete the last lines at the same time, eyes locked.

“Always tempting.

I seize up.”

Of all the swimming emotions rising at that moment, gratitude balls in your heart most intensely, and yet again, it is all you can do to thrust it towards him, your humble offering.

“Thank you,” you say, for the nth time that evening, a smile of the purest joy still splitting your face. “That was really beautiful.”

It’s hard to comprehend how moved you are by what just happened. You are shocked. Flattered. That someone appreciates your words, that they resonate at all, makes you feel so seen. That the person is Richard is more of a treasure than you can fathom, and it causes a flood of raw, reckless emotion, joyful tears brimming in your eyes.

In return, Richard’s eyes shine as he regards you, with an admiration so deep and yet prominent that you almost shrink back from it. “They’re your words,” he impresses, aiming, as ever, to shrink himself instead.

You shake your head. You won’t have that. “No, Richard - it’s the way you recited them. I swear you should do my next reading for me. You’re so…” You search desperately for the right words, and you can’t find ones any more fitting. “…So fucking beautiful.”

And you call yourself a poet?

Your eyes well up.

You feel entirely caught off guard and just a little silly that you are getting yourself upset in front of him, and yet Richard’s eyes narrow kindly as you try to scrub a stray tear away from your cheek. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soothing, and in the next breath he reaches out to touch you, his hand settling over the top of yours. The gesture is a little awkward, unsure, but only until his hand is in place. After that it simply feels... right. Perfect, in fact.

He strokes you, his thumb ghosting slowly, minutely over your pulse point, sending a delicious shiver along your spine. His eyes search yours, and you become thoroughly lost in the intensity of them. Lost in a way that you don’t ever wish to find yourself again. Lost in a way that turns everything on its head - has you finally feeling found.

“I loved hearing you read. It was so wonderful. You should definitely do another event,” Richard gushes. “I’m sure I could listen to you read from this all night.” With that, and the scenario it conjures, perhaps, he looks down at his hand on yours. Maybe growing self-conscious, or worried that he is overstepping; that he has lingered there too long. Suddenly, though, you don’t think any length of time could be too long for him to be touching you.

When your gaze drops to his lips, however, his moustache bristles, and he quickly snatches his hand back to his lap. “Have you written anything lately?” he asks hurriedly, scooping up the book again, his topic change giving off the same energy as yours did previously.

You wonder if he is imagining your fingers trailing over his bare flesh now too. You hope so. Oh how you hope.

At his question, though, you exhale a small laugh, pumping your eyebrows once as your face splits in a smile. You shake your head gently. “I haven’t been... it’s a while since I was, let’s say, properly inspired by an encounter,” you explain, looking down at your hands in your lap, missing his contact already. “I’m just... Hmmph. I don’t know. It’s just... missing something. Guess they don’t make Adonises like they used to,” you add flippantly, poking light fun, partly at yourself.

Contrary to your flippancy, Richard becomes more serious. A gulp trails down his throat, and he seems suddenly frozen in place; seized up. As if he needs you to oil him so that he doesn’t rust. “W-What are you missing?” he asks, his voice lower than you’ve heard it, slightly more grit to it. His chest visibly rising, breaths slightly quickened; just like yours.

You look into his deep, cola-coloured eyes.

You?

What are you missing? You’re not sure, but somehow you feel that whatever it is, Richard could give it to you in moments.

Still, you don’t answer. You can’t. Instead, you ask him a question in return. You ask him a question feeling that, somehow, in a roundabout way, both of your questions may arrive at precisely the same answer.

“Why that poem?” you question, softly, lifting your eyes to him. “Why is that one your favourite?”

“I... I think...” he swallows again, then he whets his plush lips with a flick of his pink tongue. “It’s about longing, isn’t it? About being... lonely? About... wanting... someone in particular.” He fixes his expressive eyes on a point on the table, unable to look at you, it seems, in that moment. Still, his words are telling enough alone, you think, even without you seeing that same sentiment mirrored in his eyes too.

Now, you have another question. “Do you ever... get lonely? Are you? Lonely?”

It’s not even an assumption about him, you vaguely realise. It’s a projection. A projection of how you feel, and how you never realised you felt. It’s a desperate plea for affinity. For that longing to be understood, finally.

You are the one who is rusted. Seized up.

However, as soon as the question is out of your mouth you wish you could retract it. Loneliness is a solitary thing, after all, and you have no business, you suppose, wading into anyone else’s.

“I’m so sorry, please don’t answer that,” you mutter quickly, your fingers darting out to ghost along his forearm in apology, your naturally tactile nature coming through.

He drops his gaze towards your fingers there, watching them skimming his warm skin and the soft, dark hairs on his arms. He doesn’t inch away. Instead, he lifts his eyes to you, and you know the answer before he says it aloud. You know the answer as his emotions are written clearly in his eyes. Worn on his sleeve, like his badge.

The weight of his loneliness crushes you as if it was your own.

“Me too,” you admit, nodding softly, and his mouth curls briefly into a small, sad smile as your fingers continue their slow inch across his skin.

He sits in that sadness for a moment, and then, tentatively, as a thought flashes across his eyes, he brightens, just a little – looking mildly more hopeful. “Well,” he suggests, bravely. “Maybe we can… keep each other company?”

That really does sound nice.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Richard reaches out to fumble away the single tear ever so suddenly coursing down your face, swiping a line on your cheek with the pad of his thumb, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt anything so tender as his touch in that moment. It is yet another little thing; like the graze of a match head along its box. A little act, charged, with all this dangerous potential for a much larger, blazing thing to ignite.

You nod, the corners of your mouth trembling. “I would like that.” You would like that a lot.

Richard searches your eyes, and, ever so slowly - always slowly- as if you don’t wish to scare him away, you dare to hook your arm into his at the elbow, and you lower your head until it is resting on top of his shoulder.

“Is – Is this okay, Richard?” you ask in a small voice, pleading inwardly with the universe that he will say yes. That it is.

“This is... perfect,” he responds, even as he remains stiff against you, and, given his affirmation, you curl and scooch your body, shuffling a little closer to him. Bolstered too, with seeming new-found confidence, Richard raises him arm over you, and he nestles you safely against him where you can better feel his warmth. Where, with your knees drawing up on to his lap and your ear coming to rest on his chest, you can feel and hear the quickened thud of his racing heart as he holds you. His beautiful, kind, open heart.

Your mouth extends in a watery smile as you are held by him. He’s right. It’s a little thing, but it is perfect, isn’t it?

Still, again, although you should feel light, you feel heavy. With emotion. With longing. And so, you reach for another topic change. You reach for lightness. “Has anyone ever told you that you have an incredibly impressive moustache?” you enquire into his shirt, another solitary tear slipping over the bridge of your nose and wetting the flourish of red stitching.

Giving yourself whiplash now, you smile, as Richard’s chest shakes beneath you with gentle, easy laughter.

“Well, not everybody is a fan.”

“Who would actually dare?” you exclaim, as if thoroughly scandalised. “Fuck them, Richard. I like it. I like it a lot.”

His fingers trace shapes on your back. “Thank you.”

You are pleased to feel him gradually relax against you, his form melding with yours, his body becoming less stiff. Less rusted; more of a fluid thing.

“Do you… do you have a little moustache comb?”

Another chuckle. “I do,” he confirms, and you don’t know why on earth that detail settles it, but you think that he must certainly be the most perfect man on earth.

You go silent for a moment, but Richard prompts you gently - “No more questions for me?”- as if he was enjoying your mood-lightening segue. You are more than happy to oblige the sweet man by continuing, and you chew on your lip as you come up with something.

“Are you on Tinder?” A cheeky smile claims your mouth again - you’d kill to see his profile.

You’d think about the fact he’d probably never send unsolicited dick pics, but… then you’d be thinking about dick pics, and that’s one dangerous road towards Feral Town.

While you ponder this, Richard laughs again, but it’s a little self-deprecating this time. “No... I... I was for a while, but I...”

“What?”

He inhales and sighs his whole breath out again - a sad sound. His tone when he speaks is equally morose. “I’m… not sure people are looking for someone like me.”

At that, you abruptly sit up, narrowing your eyes and fixing a determined, earnest stare on him. You reach up, gingerly, moved to cup his cheek with your palm, his groomed sideburn and the plume of his moustache pleasantly rough under your fingers. You make sure he is looking you in the eyes. “Richard,” you contest, with every scrap of sincerity you can muster; and then some. “I think everybody must be looking for somebody like you.”

His eyes are pierced by a peculiar emotion you haven’t seen there yet. At first it looks like pain, but then it levels off until his eyes are shining, with something resembling pride or gratitude. When a smile finally twitches his moustache, your gaze drops to his lips again, and you are no longer surprised by how easy it is to think about kissing him, desire unfurling in your belly at an alarming rate. A palpable, mutual longing eddies in the space between you.

You surprise yourself though, by dipping to press a sweet, chaste kiss into his cheek, rather than sinking towards his lips as you so wish to do. When you perform this gesture, his eyes flutter closed, and he lets out a soft, involuntary hum, the sound gathering in your very bones and setting up camp there. As you dip back from him, the edge of his moustache grazes your cheek, and you have to admit it’s sort of electrifying. You imagine how it would tickle if you were kissed by him. How it would tickle wherever you were kissed.

The lines of poetry, so to speak, are writing themselves in your mind, already. You haven’t felt this inspired in a long time, and yet, on this occasion, you want to wait. You don’t want to rush it - even though you’ve never felt the need to quell your desires on many occasions before. Life is short, after all – too short to waste. However, something tells you that Richard is the type of man you should savour. Something tells you, that you may have found somebody to love, and, you may not love often; but when you do, you love slow.

So, you pull away from Richard, and you note that his eyes have fluttered closed. When he opens them again, you know that this kiss on the cheek was the right thing to do. You see subtle tears shining in his eyes. Again, he looks pained -with first appearances- but these tears, on second examination you think, are joyful. His heart joyful yet heavy, exactly like yours. After all, when you are overwhelmed with joy all at once, with a flood of little, happy things, it can weigh you down, at first, if the measure of joy is not one which you are quite accustomed to. If you are not practised at carrying it.

At that point, contemplating joy, you are ripped cruelly from the moment, as, with the worst and best possible timing, your phone buzzes to life, vibrating against your hip until you reach to fish out the insistent device.

“The locksmith is here, Richard. I have to go.”

“Y- yeah. Okay,” he nods, despite the fact everything about him is conveying the opposite sentiment.

I don’t want to go.

“Thank you so much.”

He nods again, and, wanting to leave him with a parting thought (or, not wanting to leave him at all, but needs must), you have the bright idea to pick up your book from the table, thumbing through it quickly to find the page you want. A poem called The Flood.

“Recommended bedtime reading,” you wink, thrusting the book towards his chest and standing, grabbing your purse and making your way towards the door. “I can give you back your shirt tomorrow, right?” you say cheekily. “Maybe after dinner?”

Richard stands too, following you towards the door like he’s magnetised to you, Lady trotting along too, inquisitively, her little black nose snuffling at the air.

“A-after dinner?” he enquires, confused, as you sweep out in a little bit of a whirlwind.

“Yeah, Richard,” you smile coyly from beneath your lashes, injecting some flirtation into your tone. “I owe you dinner. To make it up to you.”

“You don’t need to make it up to...”

You arch an eyebrow at him, looking at him pointedly and smoothing your hand over his upper arm until he gets the gist. When your meaning dawns on him, he gets that adorable, excited little spring in his step. You revel in his bright toothy smile, striking and pearly from beneath the thick brush of his moustache. “I know a nice little pasta place. And there’s a great documentary playing at the Coolidge if you want to catch it?”

“Sure,” you agree, dipping forward to plant another lingering kiss on his cheek in the doorway, relishing the feel of that moustache all over again. “It’s a date.”

Evidently flustered, and in no bad way, Richard fumbles for words and finds none, omitting a mere collection of stunted syllables and unfinished sounds in response.

You wink at him, and before swooping off, you add one final thing. “Feel free to consider the bedtime reading a preview, okay? If you’d like.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up in disbelief. You get the feeling he already knows exactly what that particular poem is about. “Yes, ma’am.” he nods, looking sweetly and longingly and adoringly after you as you sashay away.

“Goodnight, neighbour to the right.”

“Goodnight, neighbour to the left.”

You allow yourself one last long look at him before you retreat, an unstoppable smile splitting your face, and, seeing him stood in the doorway, smiling after you, only cements everything you have come to learn this evening.

From now on, neither of you will be lonely anymore. There will be no more longing. Instead, there will be a flood, you think.

THE END

PART TWO IS HERE

#Richard Alonso Muñoz #richard alonso munoz x reader #the letter room #oscar isaac #richard alonso muñoz x reader

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idreamtofmanderleyagain · 3 years

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Hot takes about Severus Snape are a wierdly decent glimpse into how a person with progressive values analyses things. Literally every time someone talks about Snape, it’s like this tiny window into how one-dimentionally people actually think.

Recently saw a twitter post that was a fantastic example. Here’s how it goes (paraphrasing):

Person A:“Snape is POC and Queer coded, that’s why you guy’s hate him uwu lol.”

Person B: “Actually I hate him because he was mean and abusive to children under his care uwu but go off I guess lol”

Both of these takes are designed to be dramatic and/or reactionary. They each use partial truths to paint very broad strokes. These are get-em-in-one-hit quips. This is virtue signalling, if you’ll excuse that loaded phrase. Nobody had a substantial conversation, but now everyone who sees their statement knows the high ground they took.

At least a hundred other people chimed in to add their own little quippy hot takes into play, none of which add anything significant, but clearly made everyone feel very highly of themselves.

So many layers of nuance and complex analysis is completely lost in this kind of discussion. On tumblr, you get more of this kind of bullshit, but you don’t have a word count limit, so you guys just spew endless mountains of weak overblown evidence backing up your bullshit arguments, none of which was really about engaging in a real conversation anyway.

Here’s the thing about Snape.

He is a childhood domestic abuse victim. His abuser is a muggle.

He becomes a student at a magical school that takes him away from his abuser and immediately instills in him the idea that being a part of this magical world is a badge of self-worth, empowerment, and provides safety and security - provided that he keeps in line.

There is a war is being waged in that world over his right to exist (he is a half blood).

He is a marginalized person within the context of the narrative, forced to constantly be in the same living space as the children of his own oppressors who are being groomed and recruited into a hate group militia (the pureblood slytherins). They are in turn trying to do the same to him.

He is marginalized person bullied by children who are also part of his oppressor group, but who have “more liberal” leanings and aren’t direct about why he’s being targeted (the mauraders are all purebloods, Sirius, who was the worst offender, was raised in a bigoted household, the same one that produced Bellatrix.).

He had a crush on a girl who is a muggleborn, and therefore she is considered even lesser than him and carries a stigma to those who associate with her. That girl was his only real friend. In his entire life.

For both Snape and Lily, allying themselves to a pureblood clique within their own houses would be a great way of shielding themselves from a measure of the bigotry they were probably facing. There would have been obvious pressure from those cliques to disconnect with one and other.

Every other person who associates with Snape in his adulthood carries some sort of sociopolitical or workplace (or hate cult) baggage with their association. Some of them will physically harm and/or kill him if he steps out of line. He hasn’t at any point had the right environment to heal and adjust from these childhood experiences. Even his relationship with Dumbledore is charged with constant baggage, including the purebloods who almost killed him during their bullying getting a slap on the wrist, the werewolf that almost killed him as a child being placed in an authority position over new children, etc. Dumbledore is canonically manipulative no matter his good qualities, and he has literally been manipulating Snape for years in order to cultivate a necessary asset in the war.

He is a person who is not in the stable mental state necessary to be teaching children, whom has been forced to teach children. While also playing the role of double agent against the hate group militia, the one that will literally torture you for mistakes or backtalk or just for fun. The one that will torture and kill him if he makes one wrong move.

Is the math clicking yet? From all of this, it’s not difficult to see how everything shitty about Snape was cultivated for him by his environment. Snape was not given great options. Snape made amazingly awful choices, and also some amazingly difficult, courageous ones. Snape was ultimately a human who had an extremely bad life, in which his options were incredibly grim and limited.

In fact, pretty much every point people make about how shitty Snape is as a person makes 100% logical sense as something that would emerge from how he was treated. Some if it he’s kind of right about, some of it is the inevitable reality of suffering, and some of it is part of the cycle of abuse and harm.

Even Snape’s emotional obsession with Lily makes logical sense when you have the perspective that he literally has no substantial positive experiences with other human beings that we know of, and he has an extreme, soul destroying guilt complex over her death. Calling him an Incel mysoginist nice guy projects a real-world political ideology and behavior that does not really apply to the context of what happened to him and her.

Even Snape’s specific little acts of cruelty to certain students is a reflection of his own life experiences. He identifies with Neville; more specifically, he identifies his own percieved emotional weaknesses in his childhood in Neville. There’s a very sad reason there why he feels the urge to be so harsh.

Snape very clearly hates himself, in a world where everyone else hates him, too. Imagine that, for a second. Imagine total internal and external hatred, an yearning for just a little bit of true connection. For years. Imagine then also trying to save that world, even if it’s motivated by guilt. Even if nobody ever knows you did it and you expect to die a miserable death alone.

There are more elements here to consider, including the way Rowling described his looks (there may be something in there re: ugliness and swarthy stereotyping). These are just the things that stand out the most prominently to me.

J.K. Rowling is clearly also not reliable as an imparter of moral or sociopolitical philosophies. I don’t feel that her grasp of minority experiences is a solid one, considering how she picks and chooses who is acceptable and who is a threat.

All of that said, this is a logically consistent character arc. Within the context of his narrative, Snape is a marginalized person with severe PTSD and emotional instability issues who has absolutely no room available to him for self-improvement or healing, and never really has. And yes, he’s also mean, and caustic, and verbally abusive to the students. He’s also a completey miserable, lonely person.

There are elements in his character arc that mirror real world experiences quite well. If nothing else, Rowling is enough of an emotional adult to recognise these kinds of things and portray something that feels authentic.

In my opinion, it’s not appropriate to whittle all this down by comparing him directly to the real world experiences of marginalized groups - at least if you are not a part of the group you are comparing him to. There have been many individuals who have compared his arc to their own personal experiences of marginalization, and that is valid. But generally speaking, comparing a white straight dude to people who are not that can often be pretty offensive. This is not a valuable way to discuss either subject.

Also, I believe that while it’s perfectly okay to not like Snape as a character, many of the people who act like Person B are carrying Harry’s childhood POV about Snape in their hearts well into their own adulthood. And if nothing else, Rowling was attempting to say something here about how our perspectives (should) grow and change as we emotionally mature. She doesn’t have to be a good person herself to have expressed something true about the world in this instance, and since this story is a part of our popular culture, people have a right to feel whatever way they do about this story and it’s characters.

The complexity of this particular snapshot of fictionalized marginalization, and what it reveals about the human experience, cannot be reduced down to “he’s an abuser so he’s not worth anyone’s time/you are bad for liking him.”

And to be honest, I think that it reveals a lot about many of us in progressive spaces, particularly those of us who less marginalized but very loud about our values, that we refuse to engage with these complexities in leu of totally condemning him. Particularly because a lot of the elements I listed above are indeed reflected in real world examples of people who have experienced marginalization and thus had to deal with the resulting emotional damage, an mental illness, and behavior troubles, and bad decisions. Our inability to address the full scope of this may be a good reflection of how we are handling the complexity of real world examples.

Real people are not perfect angels in their victimhood. They are just humans who are victims, and we all have the capacity to be cruel and abusive in a world where we have been given cruelty and abuse. This is just a part of existing. If you cannot sympathise with that, or at least grasp it and aknowledge it and respect the people who are emotionally drawn to a character who refects that, then you may be telling on yourself to be honest.

To be honest, this is especially true if you hate Snape but just really, really love the Mauraduers. You have a right to those feelings, but if you are moralizing this and judging others for liking Snape, you’ve confessed to something about how you’ve mentally constructed your personal values in a way I don’t think you’ve fully grasped yet.

I have a hard time imagining a mindset where a story like Snape’s does not move one to empathy and vicarious grief, if I’m honest. I feel like some people really just cannot be bothered to imagine themselves in other people’s shoes, feeling what they feel and living like they live. I struggle to trust the social politics of people who show these kinds of colors, tbh.

But maybe that’s just me.

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 3 years

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Hi! Just wanted to know what you think Charles' route will be alll about, and how would the Ikevamp lore continue from there? Do you think we'll get an Act 3 or more suitors? I absolutely love reading your interesting insights and hearty theories! They're food for my simping soul ♡(> ਊ <)♡ please forgive my fangirling..

Hihi!!! You’re much too sweet, thank you!!! 💛💛💛 you’re always free to simp and fangirl here, haha~

I'm happy to answer as best I can, though honestly I'm not 100% sure given the main story routes all range--both in terms of topic and larger narrative impact. My guess is that it will likely be about Charles' history as somebody who took part in the French revolution, namely his role as an executioner. In line with that, I would address two lines; one from Mozart, one from Dazai.

Mozart in relation to Charles says "I remember that name..." and Dazai says that "He is a young man with many secrets." I think they both speak to a larger consideration with Charles, which is that he is both a famous historical figure but also one that trails so much blood behind him? This is a man who killed people for a living (and in droves), despite being a medical doctor. There is going to be an inevitable mental dissonance that comes with that dichotomy. His life aspiration was to help and heal people, and instead he was called to murder them indiscriminately (and often for reasons that were openly unjust). Much of his energy and disposition feels like a kind of mask; it's intended to disguise what's truly lurking beneath the surface. When people are convinced they're unsightly or monstrous, they can very often overcompensate with buoyant behavior and positivity. Dazai’s main story really felt like it was hammering this concept home, considering Charles’ insistent cheer directed at MC (yet showing Dazai and Faust a great deal of darkness.)

Interesting too, now that I think about it, because there is a kind of foil mechanism that comes with making Charles the antagonist of Dazai’s route. I didn’t realize it until now, but they both hide their secrets--and the true nature of some of their uglier feelings--with a kind of forcible levity. The difference here lies in the state of their baseline energy, the form by which it is expressed. Dazai is one to joke around and make light of (often serious) things, but he does it to a point of absurdity and mild outrage. He has a kind of desire to be chased out the way I understand him (because being chased out means he can leave and avoid the pressure of being real). If he’s not seeking to be chased out, he wants the person to smile/laugh at his blunders. He’s a mood-maker just as his description entails, and as such his goal is always the regulate/influence the emotional tone of a group in a positive way.

Charles, by contrast, avoids transparency by bouncing around and pretending like nothing really gets to him. He’s forthright and bold, but his desire to have fun belies the reality of who he is and who his master is. The impatience, the burning envy that dwells within remains to be seen--and only makes an appearance in flashes. It begs the question as to what it is he’s trying to avoid moving at that speed, as his increasing velocity means a lowered scrutiny and self-awareness (one that limits him just as much as it enables him to keep going). Furthermore, he has some notion of regulating the mood of the group in that he’s often the one who lowers tension between Vlad and Faust with his upbeat attitude. However, I would argue that it isn’t nearly as powerful as Dazai’s fixation with it; when Charles is upset or wants something, he will not hesitate to put his personal needs first (or demand them, even). Dazai does not seem to have this same audacity generally.

There's also the question of what Charles is hiding, other than the obvious historical information we have. I get the feeling something is lurking behind his desperation to believe in the future Vlad wants to create. Maybe it's some desperate wish to atone for what he's done. Maybe he raised that guillotine under some kind of misguided belief that he was restoring the world to order. We believe outlandish things to survive sometimes, and I wouldn't be surprised if that were the case for Charles. I’d like to see just what it is that makes him tick.

That being said, that doesn't always free us from the truth of what we've done. Sooner or later we're forced to confront and come to terms with it. Dazai's main story (for a short time) forced him to face that gaping maw of trauma, and it was very clear he was not in the slightest bit prepared or able to cope. So there is the question of--if MC confronts him with that--what he will do in response.

I also wouldn't be surprised if he's among the bolder suitors, seeking her affection and body with more insistence than the boys of the mansion. It remains to be seen, but given the impression I've received from him and the rest of the trio...(a note of caution to people uncomfy with that).

I'm interested to see where Charles will go, in that I'm not really sure if he'll skew to the yandere side or the lowkey wants to help people side. He has every potential to become increasingly demanding of MC’s time and attention, trying to monopolize her as much as possible. Burying himself further in denial, never questioning his master. But he also has a kind of hearty maturity at his core that might result from his life experiences, where he acknowledges what he's done and just tries to do the best he can moving forward.

If the latter happens, there is the very real question of what happens with his relationship with Vlad--which is part of the reason I have my doubts about this possibility. In the infamous (and paraphrased) words of Mulaney(? I think it was) "if this is gonna happen Vlad is gonna need to become suddenly cool with a lot of things very fast" LMAO. I don't really see Vlad ceding his control over Charles' mind easily, and I don't see him satisfied with a future of Charles' autonomy. But then, who knows? I may very well be proven wrong

I'm also curious about Charles’ pronounced interest in Comte, this kind of hope for reconciliation. There's a very real chance that could be a focal point, in that Charles wants there to be mingling between the two houses. There are also a lot of problems with this sort of theory in that it would likely require A LOT of development/time to bridge that gap if it was ever bridged, and I don't think Comte would accept anything less than Vlad agreeing to cease and desist his assault on humanity. This potentiality might be more probable for an Act 3 story progression, now that I think about it.

As for Act 3, I'm really not sure who will or won't get one. The only storyline that has been left openly/grossly unfinished is Comte's to my knowledge, largely because of the agreement they made? In all the other routes, there isn't much of a whisper about her turning into a vampire. (Vlad turns her at the end of his route I’ve heard, and as for Faust I don’t know--but I haven’t seen any signs that he would demand it of her so far.) Comte hesitates--but he has every intention of doing it when they feel the time is right. So there's the question of when or how that will happen. In a bday story? In an event story? Act 3? Dunno

I also wonder about how pureblood society and vampire hunters might come into play, but given they exist on the periphery of the game I don’t know if it’s as safe a bet as Comte vs. Vlad continuing their ideological battle.

As for the suitors in general, there is always the potential of antagonist intervention in Act 3? Maybe they heckle their happy ending or throw the relationship into some kind of turmoil, though I'm not sure exactly how that will work since most of the routes end on a pretty resolved note? There's also the reality of all the rivals being murdered in cold blood after their duels. So like ???? Really depends on the direction Cybird wants to take. Expand on the relationship, create new issues/threats--or make Act 3 a more large scale story progression.

There’s also the possibility that the story is expanded by hinging on the timespace complications. If Vlad saw a desolate future, what does that mean for everyone? Will that come to pass--and if so, when? Will he be supported or stopped? What will that entail? Maybe Vlad sees that the desolate future was the product of his own megalomania. Maybe Vlad turns out to be right and drastic action needs to be taken before it gets that far. Whatever the case, I’m interested to see what narrative avenue Cybird will choose.

As for more suitors, I really have no idea given I haven’t seen so much as a whisper of what comes after Charles. I think my best bet would be potential pureblood suitors (maybe the product of Comte/Vlad story continuations), or more roulette famous figures in line with Vlad’s machinations to thwart the suitors. If Michelangelo comes back and throws hands with Leonardo, I will veritably lose my entire mind

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp meta #ikevamp charles #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp vlad #ikevamp comte #i hope this helps!#there are a lot of story threads cybird actively follows and many they abandon so #it can be pretty hard to tell what they'll choose #i will say that comte's events have been an interesting build-up #and i'm surprised because he's not really the title character of the game? I find usually napoleon/arthur/vlad tend to get more attention #but honestly comte seems to be the only act 2 character who gets a sizable amt of content alongside vlad (as compared to dazai/shakes/seb)#comte is the outlier in terms of steady narrative progression and consistent development #it makes me wonder if they intend to expand on it because of his conflict with vlad and his promise to mc--which allows for room to write #vlad is an obvious contender in that so much of his stance/presence in the game is about the future and how it will play out #his obsession brings with it the question of what it all really means and how it will be resolved in the end #they're probably the most likely contenders for act 3 given the larger tone of their events and room for development at the moment #man if it turns out some pureblood rando was messing with timespace and vlad and comte have to team up #i will literally laugh myself to death #anywho those are my thoughts! hope it was engaging <333 #and sorry if my simping got in the way (I try not to be biased HAHA)#💛💛💛💛💛💛#rambles #not incorrect quotes

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imnotusedtobeingloved · 3 years

Text

HAPPY IS HER

Warnings: Unrequited love.

Pairing: Zuko x Mai x f!Reader

Characters: Zuko, Mai, Uncle Iroh, Azula, Ty Lee, Ursa, Avatar Aang (mentioned)

Requested: No.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the gif. Credit to the owners.

Summary: You remember the time that lead up to Zuko's coronation.

A/N: I feel like Mai is often villainized in some fics? Which definetely works in some cases, but in this one i just wanted to do something nice for her as well. So yes, you get to actually be Mai’s friend in this shot. She’s a queen. Hope you like it!

Zuko had a beautiful face.

It was something that you'd discovered in your childhood, and it still caught your eye now that you were an adult. Maybe even more so.

Growing up next to him, Azula, Mai and Ty Lee enabled you to see how much he'd grown. You remembered running around in the gardens and training in the palace grounds, playing all those silly games with them. Being the daughter of a Fire Nation General enabled you to spend a lot of time with the prince and princess.

“Mom, can you make Zuko play with us? We need equal teams to play a game,” Azula explained, running up to the Fire Lady and her brother while you, Mai and Ty Lee watched. “I’m not cartwheeling!” Zuko declined. “You won’t have to. Cartwheeling is not a game, dumb-dumb,” the princess crossed her arms, but he shot right back. “I don’t care! I don’t want to play with you,” Azula payed him no mind, instead persuading her mother. “We are brother and sister. It’s important for us to spend time together. Don’t you think so, mom?” her big golden eyes, a common trait of the Royal Family, looked at Ursa expectantly. “Yes, darling, i think it’s a good idea to play with your sister. Go on, now! Just... for a little while,” she gave in, strolling on without the prince. He didn’t seem particularily enthusiastic but he stepped up next to you, causing a blush to rise on your face. Luckily, nobody seemed to notice.

“Here’s the way it goes,” his sister said, plucking an apple from a tree. “Now what you do is, try to knock the apple off the other persons head. Like this,” After placing the fruit on Mai’s head, Azula proceeded to take a few steps back, standing between Ty Lee and Zuko. “Zula, are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked, unsure about the game. “Of course it is, silly. It’s going to be fun!” Mai didn’t look to pleased with her task, tough she stood still in front of the fountain, balancing the apple. But it didn’t stay that way for long. Azula produced a flame, using two fingers to coordinate it towards her target. The leaves of the fruit atop Mai’s head were aflame in a second. She screamed, causing Zuko to run forward and pushing her into the water-fountain, resulting in both of them landing in the water. Azula cackled, placing a hand on your shoulder. “See? I told you it would work!” Ty Lee nodded and pointed a fiinger in their direction. “Awww, they’re so cute together!” A flicker of jealousy rose in your chest, but you pushed it down quickly. Zuko didn’t respond, he only stood up and walked away, huffing. Mai wasn’t in a good mood either. “You three are such... ugh!” she didn’t really finish her scentense, but anyone could see how upset she was. “Come on, let’s get you out of here,” You said, reaching out. She took your hand reluctantly and once she stood on solid ground, Azula and Ty Lee dragged her with them to find some dry clothes. You, on the other hand, were already running after the prince. “Zuko, wait!”

Many memories of Zuko were forever branded into your mind. Even then you'd stolen glances at him whenever you felt unobserved. But that was before he participated in an Agni Kai against his father.

You’d turned your face away when it happened. Zuko lost, his screams echoing through the halls, even when he finally got to the healers. Since then a glaring red burn mark graced the skin around his eye. A reminder that would last for life. And that wasn’t even the worst part of it. He was banished. Burdened with the hopeless conquest to find and capture the Avatar. You’d cried as you hugged him goodbye, almost certain you’d never see him again.

"Do you really have to go?” you mumbled into his shoulder, staining it with your tears. The embrace was rough. He recoiled in a matter of seconds, pushing you an arms-length away. It wasn’t the loving touch you were used to. “Yes, i have to. I need to restore my honor, (Y/N),” he said, his tone devoid of any emotion but anger. “But Zuko-,” he interrupted you. “No!” fire was blazing in his eyes. You’d never had his anger directed at you before, and now that you did, it shocked you into silence. “Just leave me alone,” he said, turned around, and walked away. You stood there, rigid, until General Iroh moved to your side. “Please don’t take it personally, (Y/N),” he folded his hands in front of his stomach, looking after his nephew, who was stomping onto the deck of his ship. “He is very desperate right now,” You nodded shortly. “I know,” A sigh left your lips. “That’s why it hurts even more,”

There was nothing. Nothing you could help with. You were losing your best friend and the only thing you could do was watch. Years went by without word or sight of either Zuko or Iroh and not a day went by without remembering them. The prince may be banned from the Nation, but he couldn’t be banned from your heart.

Needless to say you were ecstatic when he returned. You all seemed to be. In the few days spend on Ember Island you all discovered something about yourselves, and each other. You, for example, discovered that you were still very much in love with Zuko. Being with him, talking to him, laughing with him... it all seemed so easy that it ripped your heart apart to see him with Mai. But nevertheless you were more shocked than relieved when she ended things with him.

“Zuko?” you’d followed him after he stormed out of Chan’s house, finally finding him on the steps of their old residence on Ember Island. “What happened?” You sat down next to him. A few moments passed in silence, with both of you lost in thoughts. He didn’t look at you, but eventually he started to speak. “Mai ended things between us,” “Oh...” you weren’t sure what to say... but maybe pretty words weren’t needed for once. Zuko looked stricking under the moonlight, almost unreal. It was a sight so pure that you were reconsidering the idea in your head, but eventually you just followed your heart. “Come here,” He furrowed his brows. “What?” You sighed. He was still angry. After all those years he hadn’t learned to let go. “You need a hug. Come here,” And this time he did. He felt warm, just like he did back when you were kids. Maybe not everything had changed completely, you thought. Maybe things truly could turn out okay.

So when he left once again, for the Avatar, you had to make a choice. With Mai and Ty Lee by your side you eventually stood against Azula, helping Team Avatar to escape the Boiling Rock.

“You should’ve feared me more!” Azula roared in anger at your betrayal. You and Mai had known the consequences of restraining the quards and helping Zuko to escape. And yet you did it. Both of your wirsts were behind your back, bound with a rope, making it almost impossible to defend yourself. But honestly? In this state you would have no chance against Azula. Not even with Mai by your side. The only thing that kept you sane in that moment, was knowing that Zuko had made it out alive and safe. The princess made her move, bringing her fingers together to produce her flames, but it never came to that. Ty Lee blocked her chi faster than anybody could realize what was happening. Azula grunted and gasped as she fell to the floor of the plattform. “Come on! Let’s get out of here!” Ty Lee ran over to try and pull you and Mai away, but the guards surrounded you before you could attempt anything more. “You’re all fools,” Azula growled, still laying on the ground, until the men picked her up. “What shall we do with them, princess?” her face was disorted with rage. “Put them somewhere i’ll never have to see their face again!”

And now that Sozin's Comet was over, Zuko became the Firelord.

He looked like a true leader in the traditional robes, laced with red and gold. A proud expression graced his face, as you looked up at him. His smile genuine and happy. He'd become a wonderful man fit to rule the Nation. Grown more mature with his experiences, something that showed in the look on his face and his posture. And in that moment you were sure. Zuko had never been more beautiful than in this very moment. His amber eyes shined in the sun, glimmering full of love as he looked at Mai.

Deep down you'd always known that the two of you weren't meant to be. You'd known when you were little, playing by the water fountain, the two of them blushing whenever Azula teased them. Or when he was back, leaving the palace in the evening, going out to see her. And you'd known when Mai recieved a goodbye letter, before he joined Aang. Because you didn't.

Now you were stuck in the crowd, applauding the new Fire Lord. Watching as he was joined by the Avatar and pulled Mai into a hug. As the tears welled in your eyes, you felt a hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly. "You're not to blame, (Y/N)," Uncle Iroh's calming voice soothed your nerves, as it did so often before. "The heart wants what it wants,"

You nodded, throat burning from the bottled up emotions. “You’re probably right,” Like he always was. “Happy is her. It was never me,”

You, daughter of a former general, should now become advisor to the Fire Lord. But honestly? You couldn't. And you couldn't bare to tell him. Watching him with Mai filled you with joy. So much joy. And pain. Your two closest friends had found each other to form a beautiful bond. Who were you to take it from them?

So this time, again, Mai was the only one to recieve a letter. It sat on your pillow, were she'd certainly find it. The both of you had formed a habit when you were young, often sneaking into each others bedrooms once it was late, talking about every thought that clouded your minds. Everything but the fact that you were in love with her boyfriend.

Dear Mai,

I want to say that I’m sorry. I need to. By the time you’re reading this letter, i am gone. And i want you to know why.

First of all i want to apologize that you and Zuko will have to look for another advisor who will stand in my place, for i am not coming back. Please don’t search for me, or try to reach me. This is the path i have chosen for myself.

I don’t want to blame you for my disappearance, and yet i have to tell you why i had to leave. I am in love with Zuko. I have been since we were kids. Nobody ever noticed. And i never said anything, because i didn’t want to hurt you. I love you, Mai. I love the both of you so much, it hurts. And i can’t deny the fact that i would’ve liked to be where you are right now. But i know that you love him. And you make him happy. I can live with that. Though seeing you two together every day is something my heart can’t seem to bear anymore. I’m cursed to love someone i cannot have. I don’t want to have. Because i see how joyful you are, now that the two of you can finally be together. I don’t want to be the person to destroy that bond in my jealousy.

In conclusion i thought it would be best to remove myself from the situation. And from the position offered.

I’m going to miss you so much, you have no idea. I want you to know it’s not your fault. And that i am always with you in mind and heart. Nothing i have ever done was harder than writing this letter. No fight was ever more brutal than leaving you, my friend. I wish you all the best. And i love you.

Your best friend,

(Y/N)

You’d asked yourself often... why him? Out of all people, why did it have to be him? But if you had to be genuine with yourself, you knew exactly why. Zuko was someone who had to face a lot of trauma to be who he was now. To be who you loved. His strength, his humor, the way he rubbed his neck when he was embarrassed or the dimples in his cheeks when he smiled. You could name countless reasons why you loved him. But you also knew all the reasons why you shouldn’t. And Mai. The stunning, silent, wonderful Mai. She deserved everything and more. And spirits, you wished them all the best in this world.

"Thank you, Iroh," you whispered blinking back the tears, before you turned around and went. You left behind your best friends, the Fire Lord, your Nation. All was lost as you your back faced the crowd, climbing into the next carriage. It was finally over. Once and for all.

#zuko x reader #zuko x mai #mai x reader #zuko x mai x reader

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fyeah-bangtan7 · 3 years

Text

J-Hope on Growing Up in BTS, His Next Mixtape and More

"We wanted to make music that can give people more strength," says J-Hope, in the first of our digital cover stories starring each BTS member

One of BTS’ many high-profile fans, Late Late Show host James Corden, says the group is “at their core, a force for good.” With his dimpled smile, warm manner, and fierce stage presence, 27-year-old rapper, dancer, songwriter, and producer J-Hope embodies the group’s combination of fundamental goodness and overwhelming talent; even his choice of stage name radiates positivity. In the first of Rolling Stone‘s breakout interviews with each of the seven members of BTS, J-Hope looked back at the group’s early days, reflected on his musical future, and more. He spoke from a studio room at the Seoul headquarters of the group’s label, HYBE’s Big Hit Music, wearing an olive coat over a crisp white T-shirt. His energy was restrained compared to his relentlessly buoyant TV interviews, but his high-watt smile was never far away.(In celebration of BTS’ appearance on the cover of Rolling Stone, we’re publishing individual digital covers with each member of the band; check back throughout the next week for more.)

Did you wake up and come straight here, or did you get a chance to do anything else this morning?

I went to the bathroom! [laughs]

So what have you learned about yourself over the course of this pandemic year?

It was an opportunity to learn how precious our ordinary lives were. I had to think about how my life should go on and how I should just stay calm and focus even during these times. It was a time to reflect on myself a lot.

And what did you take away from that reflection?

The takeaway is I have to do what I can do best. Time goes on and life flows on, and we just have to keep doing music and performances. I just thought that I have to make music that can give consolation and a sense of hope to other people. You know, we’re just people, like everybody else. So we feel the same way as everybody else. So we just wanted to make music and do performances that other people can resonate with and that can give people more strength.

What you’re saying reminds me of the message of “Life Goes On,” which is a beautiful song.

That song came from thinking about what can we do during this time, during the Covid pandemic. It’s about the stories that we can tell at this point in time. It motivated us to really talk among the members about what we are feeling. So I feel that it’s an important song.

In some of your lyrics, you’ve revealed that there is sometimes a sadness behind the smile that everyone loves. How do you balance the positivity that you present to the world with the more complex emotions you may experience in real life?

Things are really different from how it used to be. I just try to show who I really am. I think that’s the most comfortable for me. Everybody has, you know, different sides from what they show. Of course, I do have a burden and a pressure as an artist. I just take them in for what they are. I just try to express that I’m going to overcome these difficulties.If I express those things, I think that also gives me a sense of consolation as well. We have been communicating with our fans ever since we became artists, but now I think it’s become more natural and comfortable. Before we tried to only show them the good side, the bright side of us. As my name is J-Hope, I only tried to show the bright side of our group and myself. But as the time passes by, one cannot feel the same way forever so I also felt other emotions. I tried to express those emotions through music or dialogue, to express them in a very beautiful way.

One of those songs is “Outro: Ego.” What were you thinking when you wrote that one?

It’s really about self-reflection, reflecting on who I am, my ego, as the name implies. It’s about the life of Jung Ho-seok [J-Hope’s real name] as an individual, and the life of J-Hope. And the conclusion that I draw from this inner reflection is that I believe in myself and I believe who I am, and this is my identity. And then these are the challenges that I have faced, and I’ll continue to face these challenges and do new things by relying on who I am.

In 2018, you released the mixtape Hope World, which was a major artistic achievement. What are your favorite memories of working on it?

You know, looking back, I think it was really pure, innocent, and beautiful that I could do such music at those times. When I work on music right now, I have an opportunity to go back to those emotions and think, “Oh, those were the days.” I think it really has a good influence on my music that I work on now. Through the mixtape I learned a lot, and I think it really shaped the direction that I want to go in as an artist, as a musician. I’m really just grateful that so many people loved my mixtape. I am planning to keep on working on music and to try to show people a [style of] music unique to J-Hope.

What are your thoughts on a second mixtape?

Right now, the goal is to get inspired and make good music. Nothing is decided yet, so I’m just going to keep working on music. I think my style of music will not greatly change, but I think it will be more mature. I will try to contain stories that I really want to tell in the second mixtape.

You just released the full version of the song “Blue Side” from Hope World. Was that just something you had the whole time, or did you finish it more recently?

It wasn’t a full version at that time, so I always had the thought of going back to that song and completing it. I always had that in mind. I think it was like two weeks or one month ago that I finally came to think that “Oh, I want to finish this song.” As I mentioned earlier, I really look back onto the emotions that I have when I worked on the mixtape.

When you started as a trainee you hadn’t rapped at all. You’ve obviously come a long way and developed some serious skills — what was that learning process like?

I still think I have some shortcomings. I still think that I have a long way to go, to learn more things. I have to find my own unique style. But I think I could only come this far thanks to the other members. When I first started training, all the members were rappers in that crew. So when you go into the house, beats were dropping, and everyone was just rapping in freestyle. It was kind of not easy to adapt at first, but I really tried hard to adapt to that new environment. And I think those were good times and good memories, and it was really fun as well.

You were very young when you began as a trainee. What’s it been like to grow up in BTS?

I think during my training, life was far apart from being ordinary. Because other guys, my friends, would do schoolwork at school and go on field trips and build memories as a student. And of course I chose this career, my own path, giving up those things. Maybe I could feel unfortunate to not to have experienced those things, but I was chasing my dreams. And meeting the members during our trainee days was really amazing, because it is just amazing that different people who were so different could come together to form a group. And I really want to thank those guys, and I sometimes I feel like I really want to go back to those days.

What do you think when you look back at BTS’ earliest videos, when you all had this almost tough image?

Back when we had released “No More Dream,” our music embodied the battle against prejudice and oppression. So naturally, such values carried over to the style and visual aspects of the release as well. You could say it was our identity and the image that we also portrayed at that moment. But we can’t forever dwell in that static state. As time flows, things change and trends change, as did our tendencies in music. We took into account the influences around us, including, of course, our audiences. These influences guided us toward our own change in musical style and concepts.

You’ve all said many times that when you first got together, there were conflicts because you had different backgrounds and different values. What were some of the key differences that made it tough early on?

We were just really different from the beginning, so it was awkward. It did take time to get used to it. We were living together, but we had to make sure we each had our own personal spaces. Eventually we learned to understand each other, and now we’ve been doing this for so long together that we have this sort of harmony, an understanding of each other that allows us to have the kind of teamwork we have. And each of us has different roles and different things we do in the music, so we also try to help each other in what we’re doing and try to help each other become better.

#bangtan #jhope #m:rolling stone #o:interview #210514

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mbti-notes · 3 years

Note

**Hi mbti-notes! I’m an INFJ. I wanted to ask you about something I’ve noticed in myself in hopes that you might have insight or advice to offer. I read your information about learning and study as well as perfectionism. I do believe perfectionism is at play here, but I get the feeling there’s more. Do you think this is type related? Is it just plain ol’ misuse of Ni and Ni-Se imbalance? When it comes to lengthier college assignments (especially papers), I have an ineffective way of attempting

[con’t: the assignment. I know that I need to break it into smaller pieces in order to do it, which I do. But, as I go along, once I get to a point where I’ve written a decent bit, I get stuck. I feel completely clueless as to how to synthesize, sort through, and structure my work, which I need to do to go forward. Then, I start to freak out. I get overwhelmed by having no idea if all of what I’m writing is tying together, coherent, flowing, making sense, following the directions as a whole. I seem to be incapable of identifying the next step, focusing on that one step, and completing it.

Part of it is kind of like I can’t get out of aerial view, almost. It seems my natural way of approaching writing is trying to revise, edit and organize *as* I’m writing, which, of course, is impossible and completely destroys my ability to write. This is something I really want to change, because I believe I have potential to contribute something valuable to the world through my writing. I won’t be able to do that if I continue this harmful approach. Reflecting, I notice some other ways this issue seems to crop up in my life, too? When drawing, I’ve made messy attempts to sketch, ink and color all in the same sitting instead of going step by step through sketching, finishing that, then starting to ink (repeat), etc. Thoughts? Thank you!]

I see two issues that need to be examined:

1) Poor Organization Ability & Lack of Clear Objective: The ability to organize ideas requires development of your judging functions, especially Ti. Ti allows you to take Ni ideas and put them into a tight organizational model or framework. Since Ti is a lower function and tiring/difficult to use, it is often good to use Fe to find an existing “template” that you can modify for your purposes. This could be something as simple as learning how to create a detailed outline for an essay, or learning (from experts) the most effective techniques or procedures for what you want to achieve.

It seems that you often begin an assignment without a clear idea about the objective or what you want to express or argue. For example, when you’re writing an essay, you should BEGIN with a thesis statement and then proceed to construct an argument to support it. However, many students just start writing down their thoughts without knowing where it should go, and hope to eventually arrive at a thesis statement, at some point. This kind of mental organization ability is more commonly referred to as critical thinking ability. Thus, it seems that you need to spend more time explicitly improving your critical thinking skills. I have recommended books about it on the resources page.

2) Perfectionism: This is a problem when you start to feel anxious about not being able to complete a work to your ideal expectations. Anxiety is mentally draining. It takes energy away from focus and motivation. It may even lead to procrastination. Combat perfectionism by breaking the work process down into two distinct stages:

The first stage of your work should be the “creativity” stage, where you can just do whatever you like, explore whatever ideas you want, write whatever comes out, etc. This allows you the space and freedom to develop ideas to a more mature state. Then you won’t cut off promising directions before they even get going.

The second stage of your work should be the “refinement” stage, where you apply your critical thinking and organization skill to refine what you want the work to look like. You keep refining until you are satisfied enough to let it go. Sometimes, you may even want to redo the whole darn thing because, through the process of refinement, you’ve become armed with more knowledge and skill than when you started.

To allow enough time for you to properly get through both stages of work, you have to also manage your time well. Get started on assignments earlier so that you don’t feel too pressured to end the first stage prematurely. If you have trouble with that, then perhaps you should also work on your time management skills. INFJs, being J, don’t generally have trouble with time management, as long as they can keep emotional obstacles like anxiety or perfectionism in check.

#infj #study #creativity #work #critical thinking #organization skill #productivity #tertiary ti #ask

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edie-k · 3 years

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Looking Out (Romione, PG-13)

Title: Looking Out

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Ron/Hermione, implied Harry/Ginny, Harry & Hermione friendship vibes

Summary: Harry Potter is always going to look out for his best friends - even if it means an awkward conversation or two.

Notes: I think some of this story was inspired by too many “he looked at me” TikToks. A big thanks to cheesyficwriter for her beta help on this. And I swear, I don't lowkey hate Harry but if you have read my last few pieces and think that, I don't blame you. Not owned by me, characters are not mine. Hopefully, you all get zero Harry/Hermione vibes from this. Hermione is just a little sensitive to be perceived as uptight and Harry does not want to think about Hermione in any way BUT uptight.

Link to AO3

“Stop!”

Harry tapped his fingers on the wooden table and glanced at the closed door.

“Ron! Quit!” He heard Hermione’s muffled voice shout from the other room. Ron responded but it was too mumbled for Harry to understand. He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Go. Now,” Hermione stated and he heard Ron’s low chuckle before the door swung open and the two of them strolled into the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

“Apparently I have drawn the short straw and I will be fetching the pizza,” Ron sighed.

“Oh.” Harry furrowed his brow further and frowned. “Can you do that?”

“Yes!” said Hermione, rolling her eyes. “Harry, he’s had you completely snowed this entire year. He is quite capable of managing Muggle money now, he’s just been pretending to be incompetent.”

Ron shrugged. “The only downside of having you home for good is that I’m busted. I’ll be back in a few.”

“Margherita, please,” Hermione requested.

“Piles of meat, you’ve got it,” Ron replied and gave Hermione a kiss that lingered long enough that Harry almost looked away. Before he could, Hermione put both hands on Ron’s chest and pushed him away.

“Get going! You know what it’s like if your sister gets here after practice and there’s no food!”

Harry heard the front door close as Hermione pulled out the chair across from him and picked up the copy of The Daily Prophet she had been reading that morning at breakfast. “Didn’t you already read that this morning?” he asked, glancing up from the training manual he was reviewing.

“Mmm,” she said. “I got down too late to really read it in-depth, just scanned it. I wanted to go back and read this feature on a new non-profit that’s a combined effort of a Muggleborn witch and a Squib.”

Hermione settled into her reading and Harry tried to resume his reviewing. After a few minutes of silence, Hermione broke the quiet. “Harry? Is there something on your mind?”

“What? No, I’m fine,” he said nervously.

“Then why are you looking at me every thirty seconds?”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize.”

Another minute of quiet reading went by before Hermione spoke again. “Really, Harry. What’s going on?”

Harry let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, look, this is awkward. Ron’s my best friend. But so are you.”

“I’m familiar with our dynamic,” she replied, an amused look on her face.

“If you ever need my support or me to talk to him or something… I don’t want to but I would do it. If he’s bothering you or-”

“Bothering me?”

“Yeah.” Harry squirmed in his seat. “Like earlier.”

“What, you mean the pizza toppings?” asked Hermione, looking confused.

“No,” said Harry. “Just… you know.”

“I do not know.”

“Earlier when you were in the kitchen.”

“Harry,” said Hermione, the frustration clear from her face and tone. “Stop dancing around and tell me precisely what is going on.”

“You were telling Ron to stop bothering you and he wasn’t!” Harry blurted out.

“What?” asked Hermione, looking completely bewildered. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were!” Harry insisted. “I heard you tell him to stop and quit twice before you came out here.”

“I don’t - oh,” Hermione stopped abruptly and then her cheeks turned pink.

“And you told him again as he was leaving. Look, I’m not, it’s fine if you don’t want him... touching you all the time and if he’s not taking the hint, I would very awkwardly tell him to -”

“No,” Hermione interrupted. “Harry, that’s just, that’s flirting.”

“Huh?” asked Harry, looking in her direction. “But you don’t flirt!”

“Of course I do!” Hermione insisted.

“I have never seen you flirt,” insisted Harry.

“Well I do,” she stated indignantly.

“Since when?” demanded Harry.

“For a while but I suppose it was a bit more blatant after Ron’s birthday in sixth year,” she replied, blushing a bit.

“He was still dating Lavender!”

“Oh, and you weren’t flirting with Ginny while she was with Dean? It wasn’t as though we were snogging! It was just…little comments. Brushing hands. Lingering glances. That type of thing.”

“No way,” said Harry.

“We typically didn’t do it in front of you.”

Harry stopped for a moment. That response sparked a whole slew of other questions in his mind but he shook his head and kept to the topic at hand.

“So Ron’s not bothering you?”

“No, my boyfriend, that I have been separated from for ten months, is not bothering me,” she replied, rolling her eyes yet again. “On the rare occasion that I’m not in the mood and I want him to actually stop, I say, ‘Ron stop’ and he always does.” Harry recognized that voice as her standard no-nonsense tone.

“How is that different from what I heard?”

Now Hermione gave him a look that he did recognize - the one that she used when she thought one of her friends was being an idiot. “The tone should be a big giveaway.”

“So what’s the flirting sound like?”

“It sounds like what I said earlier.”

“It was too muffled for me to get the full context. Please Hermione?”

“I’m not doing it for you!”

“How am I to know the difference?”

“You don’t need to!”

“Hermione. I feel like such a git. I was really just trying to look out for you and instead, I accused my best mate of treating you terribly when I know how much he loves you. I just don’t want to make that mistake again.”

Hermione just shook her head.

“Come on! Do it for Ron. Ron can’t know I doubted him and I’ll just feel better when I know the difference!”

Hermione exhaled sharply. “Fine. I say ‘Stop, Ron.’”

The words were spoken in a light, giggly, and sultry tone that belonged to someone else but came out of Hermione’s mouth.

Harry stared at her.

Hermione stared back.

“What the hell was that?”

Hermione now gave an angry snort that sounded exactly like her.

“No, really,” said Harry, shaking his head. “I don’t know who that was but it wasn’t you.”

“Just because you haven’t witnessed it before doesn’t mean it’s not me.”

“Hermione, outside of last year, the amount of time we’ve spent apart is measured in weeks at most. There can’t be an entire chunk of your personality that I’m missing.”

“Well apparently there is.”

“So you’re just an entirely different person with Ron when I’m not around?” Harry asked.

“No,” insisted Hermione. “I’m the same person but with some additional traits that you aren’t familiar with. I know there are things that Ginny sees that Ron and I don’t…” Harry grimaced. “Not - oh gross, you know what I mean.”

“Apart from that, Ginny sees the exact same things you two do,” Harry proclaimed.

“That’s impossible. I was there at the end of our sixth year. Ginny had fun Harry and we got the other version.”

“Well, damn Hermione, I’m so sorry that I wasn’t a delight to be around when I was being hunted by - ”

“Ugh, Harry, now you’re being impossible. The whole thing with Ginny at that time was brand new and fun. It’s the same thing with Ron and I. It still feels new to be open and vulnerable with him in a way I never could before and it’s fun. All I meant was that Ginny makes you happy in a way we don’t but it’s the same with Ron and me.”

“Except I don’t try to be some sort of weird sexy version of myself.”

In that moment, Harry realized just how much he had matured since he was 15 and that he was definitely getting better at recognizing other people’s emotions. Because after only five seconds, he realized that he made a terrible mistake with no clear path to redemption.

“Hermione, I don’t mean it’s weird like, weird-weird. It’s just for me, you aren’t or you, um…”

“Not only do I have pizza, I found this one wandering about so I brought her in. Looks rather ragged, figured we should feed her up,” said Ron, bursting into the room with two pizzas and Ginny trailing him, rolling her eyes at his lame joke.

It was a close second for the happiest Harry had ever been to see him.

Ron set the pizzas on the table and looked between Harry and Hermione, who were still glaring at one another. “What’s going on?”

Hermione turned her gaze from Harry to Ron and her eyes darkened. She crossed the room in three steps, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and pulled him down to meet her lips. Harry looked away from the two of them while also carefully avoiding Ginny’s eyes. He could feel her staring at him with questions written across her face.

Hermione let the hand gripping Ron’s collar trace down his chest to right below his belt before she grasped his hand and turned. “Upstairs now,” she ordered, pulling him behind her. Ron followed her wordlessly, looking gobsmacked but ecstatic.

“What the fuck was that?” asked Ginny, watching them go, amusement in her voice. Harry opened the pizza box, ignoring the question.

“Harry?” asked Ginny, now looking more curious.

“I’m really not sure,” Harry said. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Uh, okay,” said Ginny. She watched Harry grab two beers out of the icebox. As he slid one across the table to her, a thump and a moan came from overhead.

“Ugh, did they not do a silencing charm?” said Ginny, crinkling her nose.

“In fact, I wouldn’t put it past her to have used an amplifying charm,” said Harry. “I believe I may have offended her.”

“Oh Ron, don’t stop!”

“Correction,” said Harry. “I am now certain that I offended her.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Ginny shook her head, taking her wand and silencing the kitchen.

An hour later, Ron came back in the kitchen in his flannel pajama bottoms. He shifted the leftover pizza into a single box and closed it up before opening the icebox and grabbing two beers. He pushed the door open with his elbow and started to back out but stopped short when he saw Harry and Ginny still seated at the table.

“Harry,” Ron said with a lopsided grin. “I have no idea what the two of you were talking about before I got back but thanks for looking out for me, mate.”

#romione fanfic #ROMIONE #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #hermione granger #Harry Potter #trio friendship #hp fanfic

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i-donot-forget · 3 years

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Second Conversation - Lance

Eldarya New Era Words : 1437

Maturing means having to deal with people we don't like ... for now. I hope to continue translating these conversations and I hope you like it

#Eldarya conversaciones

Before dawn, those moments of intense darkness before the light bathes everything. The silence in the hallways was clear proof that everyone was asleep, until the sound of careful footsteps from someone in full armor was the first announcement of a new day. Three gentle knocks on the door of the last Aengel were enough to put the young woman on alert, she quickly noticed the lack of sun and imagined an urgency, but the surprise she was taken was the fact that Lance was on the other side. She looked at him strangely and it was evident in her face that she had not yet fully awakened, she seemed to doubt if he was really there or if she was still sleeping. After what seemed like an eternity of strange looks, Lance deigned to speak.

- Good morning Erika, I came to find you to train. -

The young woman narrowed her eyes suspiciously, she leaned out the door and looked in both directions, the corridor was deserted.

- What time is it? -

She asked sleepily.

- It's almost 4 am. -

- Almost 4am !? Are you crazy? -

- Then I'll go find Mathieu. -

- When the man was about to leave, Erika whispered to him under her breath. -

- Where? -

- Outside the C.G, by the gates. -

The young woman closed the door, got dressed and took the opportunity to see the time, barely 04:09, without knowing why she suspected that Lance had a reason for such "dedication." The tapping of her sword on her thigh was already an imperceptible sign of security, somehow being without "her" was like being "off duty" as if just by wearing it on her waist she was already prepared for everything, even when she wasn't.

She left the C.G and when she saw the calm she was glad for a moment to think that they all slept safely in their beds, her return did not imply more for her than a short nap that considerably reduced her underdeveloped combat skills, the future promised her incomparable power, but it was a bit disappointing and almost embarrassing to have to accept her current state. She used to think that her powers were like “winning the lottery”, while now her inability to use them felt like "losing the golden ticket", so she had put aside her pride a bit by appealing to maturity, one step was to accept Lance's training.

When crossing the doors it was still night so it was difficult for her to glimpse the Lance's figure a few meters from the door looking towards the coast, his posture was upright and imposing, resting his hands on his sword as if it were part of him. He turned towards her and watched her movement until she was in position, both with their weapons drawn and at a safe distance, Lance was the first to advance, he gave her time to move and defend herself, but Erika had her mind elsewhere, It took him less than half an hour to put her face down on the ground, Lance stopped and sighed.

- You're not very good under normal conditions, but you're so distracted now that I'm wasting my time. -

He stabbed his sword into the ground, expecting her to respond with her usual animosity, but nothing, for a moment it seemed like she was going to say something but Erika held back.

- Come on Erika, why don't you say what you're thinking so we can train? -

- Why did you look for me? You know I can train with Jamon, even with Matheiu. -

- Huang Hua said that a little "push" would be good for you. -

Erika was silent for a few moments, thoughtful, although she improved every day nothing seemed to be a sufficient advance, her memories of 7 years ago only increased her frustration, always in danger, always the one that has to be rescued, always in the infirmary, always on the edge…

- I didn't think that she… -

- Won't you tell me you're surprised that Huang Hua cares about you? I thought you would be used to it. -

- I'm not so sure lately. -

Lance returned to his fighting position, Erika immediately imitated him, this time it was she who charged towards him, the combat was taking more shape, it was evident that she was serious, when the sky began to clear Erika was at her peak of concentration and Lance had noticed, subtly raising the level with each blow, each step, until an intruder entered the scene, the girl was distracted and Lance used the opening to bring her down. She was slightly annoyed when she saw who it was, she managed to make out Matheiu's figure out of the corner of her eye before his opponent caught her eye.

- Concentrate, forget about the rest. -

Erika restrained herself from looking to the side, she stood up in a defensive posture, breathing deeply, tightening the grip of her sword with both hands and sliding her left heel across the floor to ensure the greatest possible momentum, she could see how Lance analyzed her every action. They continued fighting and Erika was surprised when she could understand Lance's peculiar way of teaching, unlike Jamon who gave her clear instructions and corrections, Lance didn't say a word, but she had already caught the rhythm, when she made a mistake in a posture or taking her sword, how to attack or dodge, Lance charged directly at her weaknesses. If her posture was wrong, he would attack first; otherwise, he would only defend himself until she made a mistake.

The first rays of the sun came accompanied by curious eyes that stopped to enthusiastically observe the spectacle of the couple, obviously keeping their distance and silence, Erika understood then why Lance had come to look for her so early.

- Does it happen often when you train? -

- Sometimes, although I suspect that you are the one who attracts the most attention. -

- Why? I thought you were the strongest in the C.G. -

- I am the most powerful of the C.G. -

- You may believe it, but I clearly remember the battle on the beach ... you're not that good. -

Erika sneered with an insolent humor at which Lance only smirked.

- That was an exception… -

- Oh yeah? And why would it be an exception? -

- Because you two set me up, you attacked me by surprise, 2 against 1, not forgetting that you caught me off guard. I thought that you're just a human. Don't worry, it won't happen again. -

Now it was he who made fun of her, they kept their swords clashing with intensity but without getting tired, Erika had not been wasting time since her awake, every day she made an effort to increase her resistance, her strength, agility,she learn from the lessons, she wasted almost no energy or made unnecessary movements and Lance squeezed his advances.

Erika still had the energy to continue when Lance stopped training, they had a day ahead and it was time to eat, and it was not a bad idea to maintain that feeling of vigor. They sheathed their weapons and walked together back to the C.G in complete silence, as they passed through the market, a young man stopped Lance to consult him on some mission. At that moment she felt him, she did not need to look for it in the crowd, she knew exactly where to look. Their eyes met, drawing a smile full of melancholy, she deliberately avoided thinking about him, there were too many painful emotions, thinking about him felt bad, he was like a stranger, but for some reason, none of that mattered, a small part inside her still loved him and hated herself for it.

Leiftan broke eye contact and his face tightened, he frowned slightly, or maybe she just felt it, she tried to follow Leiftan's gaze and stopped in her tracks when she noticed he was looking at Lance, they both seemed to challenge each other, Erika remembered the times she had seen them collide with each other, they never exchanged more than a few words, at least in her presence. They had a past together, they knew each other, if Leiftan had ever shown his true personality, without masks or deception, it was Lance. Betrayed by her thoughts and natural impulsiveness, she blurted out a question that should have stayed in her head.

- How did you meet him? -

Erika kept her gaze on the Aengel when her words landed, she turned to Lance who seemed like he couldn't believe what she had said, before he managed to stammer an excuse Erika fled in terror without saying anything else.

#eldarya #eldarya new era #eldarya fanfic #eldarya lance #lance #eldarya conversaciones #eldarya conversations

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infinite-xerath · 3 years

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Runeterra Retcons 9: Shaco

The time has come to discuss League’s resident killer clown… Or killer jester, I suppose. There is a difference, not that it really matters because even the lore doesn’t ACTUALLY know what Shaco is. To be frank, Shaco is a weird character because he’s NEVER had a proper place in the story, even from his conception.

Shaco’s original lore paints him as a complete and utter mystery. Nobody knows who or what he is, where he came from, or what he really wants. All anyone has ever known is that Shaco loves killing people because he thinks it’s funny. He could be a demon, a rogue weapon, or just a homicidal madman who’s really good at what he loves. That’s where his character begins and ends, so there’s really not much to actually analyze here. Shaco’s second lore attempts to give us a little more detail but all it really does is say the exact same thing with more words added in.

Of course, Shaco’s first two lores were written at a time with the Institute of War and Summoners were still canon, so after the retcon back in 2015 Riot opted to give him a new backstory to make him fit in with the new world of Runeterra. That backstory, as we can see, is ultimately little more than a placeholder. I mean, his extended bio doesn’t even match the blurb on his Champion page!

In summation: Shaco is a haunted doll who belonged to an unknown prince of an unknown kingdom and was transformed by unknown magics for unknown reasons. This backstory now feels especially redundant with the introduction of Gwen into the game, a living doll with a similar backstory albeit far less evil. To be frank: there’d be room to have some interest thematic parallels between Gwen and Shaco if Riot had written these two in such a way that they were creations of the same person or belonged to the same kid but wound up becoming wholly opposite of one-another.

For example: perhaps in an alternate version of the lore, Gwen comes to embody the childlike innocence and hope of her maker/owner and seeks to spread joy and cheer while Shaco is a corrupt and perverted manifestation of those desires who seeks only to amuse himself in the suffering of others. This, I think, would have been a fantastic way to go about it, but given that Gwen is already so heavily tied to the Shadow Isles plotline and Viego is set up to be her primary enemy, I feel like it would be kind of difficult to work Shaco into that dynamic at this point.

Besides, it’s clear that Riot DOES have plans for Shaco: namely, that they aim to retcon him into being a demon. This is somewhat evident by his champion title, the Demon Jester, as well as his relationships are listed as being Nocturne and Fiddlesticks, the demons of nightmares and fear, respectively. There’s also that branch on the demon family tree labeled “Delirium” which would fit a murderous jokester pretty well.

To be honest, I was initially hesitant to even bother doing an episode for Shaco given that Riot clearly has at least some vague idea of what to do with him, but since reworks are coming out a lot slower now and Shaco’s not even on Riot’s priority list as far as we’re aware, it’ll probably be a WHILE before we actually see them do anything with this particular concept.

So, given what we know about Riot’s current plans, the general direction of this rewrite is simple: make Shaco a demon. Admittedly, though, that’s a little easier said than done. Demons in League are creatures who feed on mortal pain and suffering, but each of them has a different way of going about it. Fiddlesticks mainly uses paranoia and trauma to drive his victims mad while Nocturne takes a more Freddy Krueger approach of just invading dreams and turning them into nightmares. Tahm Kench likes to make Faustian Bargains by giving you everything you want and then tearing it all away from you, while Evelynn lures you in with seduction and then proceeds to tear you apart piece by piece.

Every demon takes a different form and has different ways of going about things, but all of them share a core concept: they feed on suffering and misery, be it physical or emotional. That said, there’s a bit more to demons in Runeterra than just that. See, back when Fiddlesticks was released, Riot went and released what the community has dubbed the “Demon Family Tree,” which appears to be a chart displaying the hierarchy of demons and different emotions that different kinds of demons can prey on.

Now, admittedly, there’s a LOT about this chart that we don’t currently understand, and frankly I wouldn’t be surprised if Riot doesn’t either. There’s a key that resembles the one around Zoe’s neck in the top-left, a bunch of circles in the top right we don’t know the meaning of, and a whole bunch of text written in what I think is supposed to be Old Noxian that we can’t currently decipher. There have been theories and discussions about this already, so I’m not going to get too deep into it, but the main takeaway, I think, would be the words on the chart that we CAN read: Fear, Delirium, Nightmares, Secrets, Bliss, Frenzy, and Obsession. There’s also the term “Azakana” at the bottom, though we know thanks to Yone that this basically just refers to a demon that hasn’t fully matured yet.

Tying the chart back to the demonic Champions in the game, it’s easy to piece together the connections that they each have: Fiddlesticks is fear, Nocturne is Nightmares, Raum (the demon bound to Swain) is Secrets, Evelynn is commonly believed to be Bliss, and Tahm Kench is most likely Obsession. That leaves Delirium and Frenzy untouched, which leaves us with two spots to fit Shaco into.

Now comes the hard part: the decision. Delirium refers to a state of mind in which one’s awareness of their actions or environment is significantly reduced, whereas frenzy is a sudden burst of frantic, uncontrolled emotion, typically rage or aggression. Either one of these could work well for a killer jester, but I personally think that delirium would suit Shaco better in terms of how his personality is portrayed in game. So, with that said, let’s dive deep into the realm of demonic and see what can be done to turn this cursed puppet into a proper Demon of Delirium.

It is often said that misery and comedy are but two sides of the same coin. Laughter often comes at the expense of others, and one person’s despair may be another’s delight. Most entertainers would tell you that walking the line between humor and malice is key, but to Shaco, such distinctions are a joke for which he himself is the final punchline.

The demon known as Shaco has stalked Runeterra for ages, spreading his twisted influence far and wide. There’s nothing Shaco loves more than to bring joy to those who need it most, often appearing to mortals who have experienced great loss or tragedy. Those coping with grief or misfortune may find themselves unexpectedly visited by a grinning jester, who assures that his only desire is to take away their pain with the power of laughter.

At first, Shaco’s antics are innocent enough. Some cheesy jokes to lighten the mood, some harmless pranks to lift the spirits of the downtrodden, all with an unyielding smile that one cannot help but start to imitate. Soon, those enthralled with Shaco’s antics are invited to play games with the jester to help distract from their worldly worries. Those who accept are whisked away to partake in a day of fun and merriment, playing all manner of pranks on friends, family, and even innocent bystanders.

When the games end, Shaco leaves his playmates cackling insanely in the aftermath, often surrounded by bodies and covered in blood. None laugh louder than Shaco, however, who delights in watching his playmates slowly regain their sanity and come to realize all the atrocities committed at his side. Some cry out in despair, while others break down laughing or crying harder than before. Some go mad, others are executed for their crimes, and some even opt to take their own lives. All outcomes are equally hilarious to Shaco, who soon sets out in pursuit of his next playmate.

Stories of the Mad Trickster exist all across Runeterra, often told as children’s tales to teach valuable lessons: don’t trust strangers, never give in to sadness or despair, and always be mindful to never take a joke too far. Few truly believe in Shaco’s existence, but those who fail to heed such warnings may find themselves to be his next playmate, as well as the butt of his joke…

So, this one was a bit shorter than normal, but I think it serves to get the point across. As the embodiment of delirium, I wanted to give Shaco a set-up sort of similar to Tahm Kench: he appears to offer help to those in need, only to end up ruining their lives in the long run. The difference, of course, is that Shaco lures people in to help them forget their troubles with fun and games, only to escalate to full-blown murder and mayhem.

In essence, Shaco drives others to delirium, making them believe the carnage is all just fun and games until his spell is broken and reality sets in. I’d like to think he particularly likes preying on the downtrodden because those who are suffering mental anguish already are easier for him to cast his spell on.

This is just my take on Shaco, though. Who can really say what Riot will do with him in the future? Who knows, his rework might end up even better than what I have here, but of course, anything is bound to be better than his current, non-existent lore.

#Runeterra Retcons #Shaco #League of Legends

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nctinfo · 4 years

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[TRANS] Johnny & Jaehyun’s interview with W Korea May 2020 issue!

Today was a day where we borrowed the cinematic imagination of the 1996 film <Romeo and Juliet" directed by Baz Luhrmann and created two Romeos. Both of you portrayed the 'Modern Day Romeo' well, how did you think the shooting went? Johnny: It felt like we came out to play. The setting too, it felt just like any small town in America. When I was leaning against the bed during the shoot, I danced excitedly while holding a bunch of grapes (laughs). Romeo, I think, is someone who is honest with his feelings and who wants to achieve love till the end. Thanks to this, regardless of what others might think, I had fun during the shoot. Jaehyun: From the Hawaiian shirts with palm trees to leopard print belts. Above all, the outfits were bold. The point of today was to act like someone who plays around and has always worn this kind of style. There was a scene [in the movie] where Romeo flips over the white blankets and plays around with Juliet, but it wasn't easy [to portray that scene] because of the blood that rushed to my face (laughs).

It’s a shame we don’t have a Juliet today. If you were to summon Juliet right now, what outfit would she appear in? And what do you imagine would be the first thing she says? Johnny: A simple outfit would be nice. For today’s shoot I was wearing a white short sleeved t-shirt and cream coloured jeans, so Juliet would have a similar vibe and would say ‘Are you doing well?’ filled with affection and excitement. Jaehyun: She’d appear in a white t-shirt and blue jeans. With a short ‘I missed you’.

There are two male leads in the movie <Romeo and Juliet>. There is Romeo who is a romanticist with rich emotions but who is hesitant in front of love, and there is Tybalt who is a calm strategist but sometimes emits fiery charms like a bulldozer. Between the two, who do you feel like you're similar to? Johnny: I think I'm similar to Tybalt who wants to be like Romeo. I'm the type of person to carry out something immediately when you decide on it. On the other hand, I want to learn from Romeo's attitude to be faithful and honest with your feelings the moment you fall in love. Jaehyun: I'm the opposite of Johnny. I think I'm Romeo who wants to resemble Tybalt's calm and analytical side. Normally, I'm the type to follow my feelings rather than reasoning, so if I had to choose between the two, it would be Romeo.

If some day your story gets made into a movie, what song would you want to be played in the ending credits? Johnny: On bright sunny days like lately the mood is refreshed and tender. If the movie will be about me in spring, then Mac Miller’s ‘Circles’ would be nice. If I ever get to make a movie in the future, any Coldplay song would be good. Coldplay’s music feels like home, music genres come and go, but in the end when I need stability I always seem to turn to Coldplay. Jaehyun: In my own movie, first of all I don’t think we need a post credit scene (laugh). I’ve always cherished Chet Baker’s ‘I fall in love too easily’. It’s a tasty song that you can listen to on repeat with an empty head, without thinking anything. Chet Baker’s trumpet performance and voice always strangely draw my ears in.

The title song 'Kick It' of your 2nd full album <NCT#127 Neo Zone> that was released in March actively incorporates the identity of cine kids hero, Bruce Lee. Taking over Bruce Lee's baton, is there a movie protagonist who you want to express musically? Johnny: Exactly two people come to mind. First, Brad Pitt from the movie <Fight Club>, I want to try a song with a strong beat with a fighter's unique fiery temperament. It would be great to incorporate the shocking twist of the movie. The other is Will Smith in the movie <The Pursuit of Happiness>. It's a 'life' movie I want to give five stars. No matter what twists and turns, it's a movie that eventually ends with a happy ending. It would be nice to sing [a song] with a message that even though it's hard now, you'll be happy in the end. A slow ballad would suit that, right? Jaehyun: Even though I acted as him today, Romeo would be fun [to express]. It would be a song that shouts love, but it would be perfect if it contains everything from joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure like in the movie. When I think of James Dean in the movie <Rebel Without a Cause> I imagine music that puts together spicey funky beats based on the old sounds of jazz bands. Recently I'm really into jazz, soul, and R&B, so a band sound is essential.

Even if it's not someone who everyone knows like Bruce Lee, is there someone you two consider to be a hero? Johnny: I don't really express it well normally, but my mom? I'm an only child that was born late, so I always stuck to my mother when I was young. Looking back, I think my mother was a person who sacrificed herself to her family but still valued her happiness. I want to resemble the way she always lives consciously while having fun. It was my mother who taught me how to feel and enjoy every moment. My mom often told me that the experience of 'trying' something is important. For example, I spent my childhood in the United States, and no matter what, we always celebrated the independence day, which is on July 4th, with family and watched the fireworks. On days when the moon was bright and full, we'd be outside watching it. Thanks to this, I think I've grown up as a person with rich emotions. Jaehyun: my grandmother. Despite nearing 80 years old, she had been a dancer until recently and is now retired. She doesn't miss the broadcasts I appear on and watches everything, and after the broadcast ends, she will always send me long KakaoTalk messages with feedback. Because she's a dancer, there are times when she points out my fingertips and neckline but in general, she tells me what kind of mindset I should have when it comes to life. I always get advice from teachers and people around me, but strangely, every word from my grandmother seems to really pierce me. [She tells me] Don't mind others, live enjoying everything you can take on. I still hold [those words] close to me.

It's been quite a while since the first stage you did in the name of NCT 127. What was the driving force behind you during this long time? Johnny: fans, members, family. Looking back, it seems like it was people that led me. Fans are the 'reason' for me to do something. The members are my companions who walk together for this reason, and wouldn't my family be my roots. Having a place to go back to is a completely different story. I think it's family that shows me that I can fall sometimes and that I have somewhere to go back to. Jaehyun: I was able to endure my trainee days purely because I liked music. It's the same now. Of course, our fans who like our music and who come and watch our stages are a great strength too. One difference is that, until now, I relied on the people around me and tried to lean my body on the 'crew', but I seem to have found a driving force within myself recently. I give myself strength by pushing myself or complimenting myself, that's how I find enlightenment within myself. In this sense, as a human, I feel like I'm going through a time of maturity.

If you could go back in time, what would you tell yourself if you could pat yourself on the back right before going up on the stage for the first time? Johnny: ‘Have confidence. Even if your spirits fall, work on everything’. I don’t know how it might have looked on the outside but my state of mind now seems to be very different from then. I’m much more free now. I kept telling myself that I’m nice and confident, and now I think I am able to stand confident like this. I don’t know why I only saw the flaws in the past. Now, rather than trying to make up for my weaknesses, I tend to focus on maximising my strengths instead. Jaehyun: ‘Do what you want, what you think is right and what you like. Of course I know you’ll do fine, but it would be nice to be a bit more daring.’

What are 3 adjectives that describe you? Johnny: Energetic, romantic, selfish. The last word I chose because I think in order to make another person happy, I need to be happy myself and only when I have a sense of security I can care for other people. Jaehyun: I like classic stuff so first of all, classic, continuous because I always try to learn and grow, and firm in terms of trying to remain as stable as possible.

What were you born with, and on the other hand what weren’t you born with that you’re trying to achieve? Johnny: Seems like I was born with curiosity. Like I’ve mentioned before, my mom has influenced me a lot. On the other hand I want to make passion my thing. Sometimes I look at the members when I’m lazing around. Everyone has their ‘one passion’! Jaehyun: Ever since I was little I would always fix the TV at home whenever it broke down. I think I’ve been born with dexterity. I seem to be good at sports, but I really need flexibility (laugh). I also want to break up with my short lived resolve. To speak, I lack persistence a little. When I really like something or if I have a clear reason to do it, my body moves. If there’s neither, I fall into the swamp of one short lived resolve to another. (laugh)

As a listener of <NCTs Night Night>, a show that was hosted by the two of you in the past, I think you were compassionate and were counselors who had shown more empathy than other people of your age. Today, let's write the concerns of you two. What's your biggest concern now after passing April 12th, 2020? Johnny: Although it's a little embarrassing to say it in words, my biggest concern these days is how to be a strength for the fans who we can't meet because of the recent situation. Most importantly, I don't want to be distressed and spend this time more meaningful. Jaehyun: What the heck to do at home! I'm the type to be very active. Nobody can go outside so I'm working hard in trying to find something I can do home alone. I've watched movies, listened to music and cooked, but I can't help but still feel the itch [to do something].

When you watch your web variety show <NCT LIFE>, you two are often seen standing in the kitchen. Is there any dish you want to make for that one precious person in the future? I wonder what the specific recipe is and what the mood of the day will be like. Johnny: First of all, I wanna make breakfast. Omelets are good to eat in the morning. Omelets are well made when you think 'even though it's bad, it's good'! Stir-fry onions and bell peppers until they become sweet, then sprinkle some pepper to finish it. The time would be good at 09:30 am when the sunlight is strong enough to see the dust. That precious one would be sitting in a chair (laughs). The table will be set with cutlery and two cups of coffee. So that you can open the morning in a relaxed and simple manner. Jaehyun: Samgyetang and stir-fried pork, is that too native? (laughs) If I had to choose one, I will pick the stir-fried pork that was also complimented on <NCT LIFE>. Sometimes only red pepper paste or red pepper powder is used for the sauce, but I tend to use both. It would be great if there was a pretty plate with fruit too, it's the perfect dessert.

Even if it’s not a cooking moment, what’s the time, place, thing or person that makes you the most gentle? Johnny: From noon to 2pm. I feel the most peaceful when the sun is shining at that time. I don’t really care about the place. As for a thing, a scented candle that I have received as a gift while filming <NCT LIFE> in Thailand. For people, anyone! Jaehyun: Late night nearing the dawn. I really like watching the night view. I think the Han River could make me the most gentle. Personal things like earphones or speakers. Being together with family would be nice.

As a person and as a musician, what time do you think you’re going through? Johnny: I always feel like I'm at the starting line. Even when I do the same thing, I have to have a new mindset in order to grow. Jaehyun: It’s a slow process for humans but I seem to be slowly becoming more mature. As a musician, when the time comes I’ll be looking from a distance thinking I’m making ‘my own’ thing.

Translation: Alex, Esmee @ FY! NCT (NCTINFO) | Source: W Korea Scans — Do not repost or take out without our permission!

#NCT #johnny #jaehyun #t:trans #t:interview #W Korea #W Korea: May 2020

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