#our own world would benefit from something like this honestly. imagine having a drive to better yourself. how terrible 🙄

[havnblog]

AI Is Just Different

The discussion around the ethics and legality surrounding AI has been a constant the last year — and it’s culminating in some important trials that’s coming up.

I won’t go into the entire thing here — I just want to focus on a specific argument that I often hear when it comes to the way these large models are trained. It oftes goes something like: «But how is this different from how humans have always been learning and iterating on previous knowledge?» or «The information was available on the open web, so it can be used for anything!».

I think these are terrible arguments.

Humans are allowed into shopping malls.

However, that’s simply not an argument for that cars should be allowed there as well — whether they’re driven by a human or autonomous.

But while it would be «very bad» if someone drove through a mall with their Hummer, it would only be «annoying» if someone did it with their RC car. I’m not saying the opposite (that if humans can do something, machines can’t) — I’m just saying that it’s not an argument, and that we have to evaluate every «machine» for what it is.

Because scale and context matters.

At some point, we decided that cars were a large enough departure from things like bikes or horse and carriage, and that they required their own rules. And today you need a license to drive a car, but not a bike. And while bikes don’t really need speed limits, cars absolutely do because it’s capable of much more. They’re just… different.

I view AI the same way, and that is why I’m a bit annoyed that much of the discussion’s around «ancient» copyright laws written for a different time. I wish we’d just jump straight to what we think is right, and make laws accordingly. 1

Now, I absolutely have issues with copyright laws and how they’re enforced and who they benefit. **But as someone who plays in a small band, I wouldn’t like it if someone took one of our songs and uploaded it to YouTube as their own. At the same time, I wouldn’t mind if a performer learned the song and played it for money on the street — because scale and context matters. **

Could we please evaluate it for what it is?

I just want to get pass «But technically, according to these laws written for something completely different, it might be fair use» and «But humans have done something similar, so these machines should be allowed to do the same at a global scale».

AI ≠ Napster

AI ≠ Humans

Could we please talk more about what we think is fair and what we actually want?

Imagine if someone, at the beginning of the last century, said: «You can’t put the genie back in the bottle — these cars are driving all over the place, we can’t start regulating them now»?

PS: Let me add, that I think AI tools can be immensely useful. I think too many think you have to choose between

being skeptical of the ethics, and think that they’re useless, hallucinating bullshit machines, or

think that they’re useful, and thus must be ethical and right.

But you can mix and match here, people! 👆🏻

I’m not calling for the removal of all AI tools. 2 But we, as a society, can choose which society we want! And if we think these tools are more unethical than useful, we can make them illegal in their current form. And I wish those who argue for why they should be legal would say why, instead of just «Because humans…».

But sadly, even though the problem is global, most of it is decided in a country with about 4% of the world’s population, that doesn’t really seem capable of passing laws at the moment. ↩︎

At least not in this posts! I’m honestly not sure… ↩︎

[ladyartemesia]

All I Want For Christmas is You

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist...

Genre: Comedy • Fluff  • Smut

Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers

Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx  • @underthejoon • @yeojaa​ • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi

Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •

Acknowledgements:

To @ppersonna​ (Lindy) @underthejoon​ (Fal) and @xjoonchildx​ (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.

To @untaemedqueen​ (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you. 

To @hobi-gif​ for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted... Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor. 

To @lemonjoonah​ as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar. 

Please Picture This Taehyung:

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”

“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”

Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow. 

“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”

The man in question shifted uncomfortably.

“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”

“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though... I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped. 

“You RECORDED IT?!”

Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”

“He did WHAT?!”

Your mother winced. 

“Jimin was... uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”

“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”

Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite. 

“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events...”

Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them. 

“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”

The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough. 

“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered. 

“Oh sweetheart... it isn’t you we don’t trust...”

Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back. 

You would play along with their humiliating schemes. 

For now.

“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me? 

For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous. 

“Kim Taehyung.”

You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa. 

“Jungkook, I need to look into faking my own death. Nothing too over the top. Just a tasteful disappearance—”

The man in question could barely restrain his grin. 

“You don’t pay me nearly enough to deal with your mother in the event of your tragic demise and miraculous resurrection.”

“I could pay you more.”

“Or,” Jungkook replied with a heavy dose of judgment coloring his tone, “you could put on this ridiculous tie and stop trying to weasel out of it.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I pay you at all,” Taehyung growled, yanking the tie from the younger man’s grasp. “Clearly I’m not the one in charge.”

“Your words, sir, not mine. Now shall we go over the details and itinerary?”

If Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best executive aide in the city (and one of his closest friends) Tae would have drop-kicked him right then and there.

“Could you at least try to look like you’re not enjoying this?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was insensitive of me to ignore your suffering in this delicate time. The trauma of escorting a beautiful woman to a series of glorified buffets weighs heavily upon you.”

Taehyung tightened the tie so aggressively, he almost strangled himself.

“Beautiful woman?!” he wheezed. “We’re talking about the girl who showed up to our formal graduation party looking like she just escaped from Azkaban.”

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. 

“Tae… how long has it been since you’ve actually seen Ms. Park?” 

“Seen? Maybe three—four years.”

The heir-apparent of Kim Holdings avoided the public end of corporate culture like the plague, preferring to leave the requisite schmoozing to his personable cousin, Kim Seokjin. 

However, he had crossed paths with his adolescent nemesis in... other ways. 

Taehyung was romancing a lovely young socialite who suddenly ghosted him after someone told her that he wanted at least eight naturally-birthed children. 

Soon after, your favorite charity received an anonymous 30,000 dollar donation requesting that you be featured in the dunk tank for an upcoming benefit carnival and then the same anonymous patron paid for at least fifteen little league teams to attend. 

In retaliation, someone petitioned the National Aviary Society (chaired by a very influential senator’s wife that no one ever refused if they wanted their permits to go through) to make Taehyung the MC at their annual awards ceremony—knowing full well he was allergic to birds (not dangerously allergic—just enough to be miserable).  

Taehyung had sniffled and sneezed through approximately one hundred parrots, parakeets, and other assorted fowl until he was ready to commit murder. 

The last several years had been littered with similar incidents of the two of you taking thinly veiled potshots at one another. 

“I can’t imagine she’s changed very much,” Taehyung bit off absently. His mind was abruptly consumed by how he could get revenge for those demonic birds. 

He didn’t notice the smile creeping over Jungkook’s face. 

“No, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t changed at all.”

Taehyung had only ever had the wind knocked out of him once before. 

He was Dionysia High School’s star pitcher for three seasons and during one particularly tense game against JY Prep, Lim Jaebeom whacked a line drive right into his solar plexus. 

That’s how it felt to look up and see you at the top of the stairs. 

In his head, you were still the mischievous imp from his childhood. Every prank he played was directed at the fierce little fiend with braids and braces who’d knocked him and his date into the university fountain while experimenting with her friend’s skateboard. 

But she was gone… and in her place was something far more dangerous. 

A woman. 

Silken fabric wrapped tightly over curves you definitely didn’t have four years ago. That wild hair had been tamed into shining waves and pinned elegantly at the nape of your neck. The wicked slit that traveled all the way up your thigh teased a smooth shapely leg that all but demanded the viewer fantasize about running their hand up the length of it. 

Suddenly it was very clear why Park Jimin wouldn’t let his sister venture into the corporate cesspool alone. 

Because the sight of you could make a man desperate. 

Betrayal—of all things—slowly crept over Taehyung as you descended toward him like some sort of angel floating down from the heavens. 

His mind went blank. Just watching the seductive shift of your hips as you swayed ever closer felt like a violation of his friendship with Jimin. He could feel the judgmental stares of an imaginary Bro-Code Council boring into him from on high. 

“I see you’ve recovered from your memorable tenure as the Aviary Society’s Master of Ceremonies.”

And just like that the brat was back. 

Taehyung breathed a hefty sigh of relief, secretly thrilled to be in familiar territory with you. 

“Naturally I was delighted to help Senator Mitchell’s wife. In fact, Mitchell’s office just fast tracked all my pending permit requests for the new year.” He tilted forward, coming into your space a bit. “I should really send you a thank you card.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scowled, breezing past him like an indignant queen. 

Tae could practically see the steam pouring out of your ears. 

“Of course not,” he chuckled.

The first gala of the holiday season was an extravagant annual affair hosted by Min Corp., a Seoul based investment firm that commanded billions in assets. This year, the theme of the event was the Joseon Dynasty and the entire ballroom had been gloriously transformed into a stunning celebration of the Min family’s royal heritage. 

Attendees were gifted their own traditional fan, each uniquely crafted by artisans from Damyang. Taehyung’s was all black with bold silver calligraphy while yours was a beautiful bamboo and silk piece decorated with pomegranate trees. 

You had already whacked three people with it by the time dinner was served. 

“It really is a pity these fell out of fashion,” you lamented. “They’re quite useful.”

“You are deranged,” Taehyung mumbled, massaging his temples in exasperation. 

“Nonsense. I only fanned those who deserved it.”

“Harkins?”

“He was staring at my rack for a solid minute.”

Taehyung could hardly blame the man, it was a battle he himself was losing after all, but Harkins was twice your age and married—therefore his ogling was in especially poor taste. 

“Okay... What about Kang?” 

“He was verbally abusing one of the waitstaff.” 

“Alright, fair enough, but why on earth would you go after sweet old Mrs. O’Malley?”

“She was about to grab your ass.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open.

“She’s eighty-five!”

“And still kickin’ apparently.” You shook your head in disgust. “As if I’d whack an eighty-five year-old woman for anything less than non-consensual touching.”

“I- I- mean—surely you must be mistaken,” he coughed. 

“Oh, there’s no mistake. That nasty old crone is a serial offender. She likes to play it off as dementia, but she’s as sharp as a tack. Last year she got a whole handful of Jimin. Honestly, I’d call the police on her, but the commissioner is her grandson so I doubt I’d get very far.”

Taehyung turned to the woman in question just in time to see her totter lecherously toward Jung Hoseok, fingers already twitching in anticipation. 

“Is nothing sacred?” he mused hollowly. 

You shrugged. 

“Many people who accumulate as much as our families have start believing that they are entitled to whatever strikes their fancy.” Your eyes met his with a hint of bemusement. “Surely you should be used to this sort of thing by now?”

“Yes, but I was hardly expecting it from little old ladies!”

The remainder of dinner was a terse affair where you pretended he didn’t exist for the entire meal and he in turn pretended that the spunky young heiress seated to his right was the most darling creature to ever walk the earth. By dessert she was ready to get married and you were ready to vomit. 

Afterward, Taehyung found himself quickly converted to your views on fan usefulness as you began strolling through the crowd intent on strengthening your family’s corporate ties. 

“Kim Taehyung,” you ground out through clenched teeth, “how am I supposed to do business if you keep stabbing everyone I speak to!”

“I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m simply not used to carrying one of these. I may have accidentally grazed a few overzealous individuals—”

“My last three conversations have been rudely disrupted by the blunt end of that accused fan.”

Taehyung crossed his arms smugly. 

“And what of it? Jimin sent me along to keep an eye on you and the gentlemen in question were hardly behaving themselves. No one has to put their hand in my back or lean that close to me when they’re talking business.” 

“That’s because no one wants to get that close to you,” you replied sweetly. “You’re gross.” 

A devastating grin slid slowly over his features as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear. 

“I can think of several women who might disagree.”

He just barely caught the hitch in your breath before- 

“Like who? Miss Blushes-and-Giggles from dinner?”

“Jealous?” Taehyung drawled cockily. 

“Only in your dreams, Kim.” Then, with a deliberate flick of your fan, you turned your back to him. “I’m headed for the ladies room. Do yourself a favor and don’t follow me in.”

It was twenty minutes before Taehyung realized that you slipped out the back entrance of the restroom. 

It took another ten for him to locate you on the balcony flirting outrageously with Min Yoongi. 

The young heir of Min Corp. was just leaning closer to whisper sweet nothings in your ear when a black fan slid right in between the two of you. 

“Lovely weather we’re having,” Taehyung observed cheerfully. His eyes bounced between you and Yoongi with barely concealed fury and you let out a miserable groan. 

“Mr. Kim,” Yoongi cleared his throat significantly. “What an… unexpected surprise.”

Frustration clawed at your chest as your overbearing guardian nodded smugly in response. 

It was time to teach him—and Jimin—a lesson. 

“Yoongi,” you sighed, sliding your hand pointedly through the crook of his arm, “I’m not feeling at all well. Would you perhaps… escort me home?”

Taehyung suddenly looked as if he’d swallowed a live octopus. 

Yoongi grinned, clearly thrilled with the prospect of simultaneously spending more time with you and irritating Taehyung. 

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Jimin is gonna kill me,” Taehyung grumbled as he watched Min Yoongi help you into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin. 

An ugly green feeling he refused to identify twisted sharply in his gut when you smiled coyly at the other man. 

“This is ridiculous,” he snarled to no one in particular before yanking his phone out of his pocket. 

Jungkook picked up on the second ring. 

“Sir?”

“I need you to drive to Ms. Park’s apartment and tell me if she goes in alone or if Min Yoongi goes in with her.”

“You want me to what?!” 

“Just do it!” he snapped, downing an entire glass of champagne before signaling his own driver. 

Fifteen minutes later his phone vibrated from the car seat next to him. 

1 New Message from: Jungkook

Her building has four separate entrances. Which one do I watch? 

Taehyung could practically feel the vein pulsing in his forehead as he scrolled through his contacts. 

You picked up on the fourth ring. 

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Oh it’s you… Wait—how did you get this number?”

“Jimin. Obviously. Now please answer the question.”

“Oh a ‘please.’ Who knew you had manners?”

“Answer the question, Park. I’m tired.”

The distinct sound of a zipper unzipping carried through the speaker. 

“I’m at home, of course. Where else would I be? I just got here like a minute ago.”

He had a sudden vision of Min Yoongi helping you out of your dress. His grip on the phone tightened. 

“Are you alone?”

You snorted. 

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

Taehyung saw red. 

“I’m coming over.”

There was a loud crash and several colorful words in at least three different languages. 

“Wha- No! I’m trying to go to bed!”

“With who?!”

“With myself, you idiot!”

“Prove it!”

“Fine! I will!”

The line disconnected and Taehyung swore loudly. He was just about to direct the driver to your building when his phone went off again. 

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin 

He almost choked on his tongue. 

You were clearly in the middle of undressing and—in your irritation—probably hadn’t looked too carefully at the picture you sent.  

At first glance it was simply a shot of your empty room (presumably “proof” that you were alone) but you neglected to consider the floor-length mirror hanging in the far corner…

A mirror that showed you angrily holding up your phone with your gown pooled deliciously around your waist and the soft round swells of your breasts strapped into lacy red lingerie. 

You were exquisite. 

A fierce, hot sensation gripped him ruthlessly, and this time there was no mistaking it. 

Desire. 

Your phone lit up on the bed where you tossed it after snapping a photo for your tightly-wound man nanny. 

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch 

I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh. 

Your head tilted in confusion. 

There was a Van Gogh print in your room, but he couldn’t have seen it because it was behind you when-

Oh NO.

You gasped, scrolling back up to confirm what deep down you already knew to be true. 

… You just sent Kim Taehyung a topless mirror selfie. 

Several miles away, smiling smugly in the backseat of his town car, Taehyung was sure he could almost hear you screaming. 

“Good morning, sir. Which would you like first; the bad news or the worse news?”

Taehyung groaned from underneath his covers. 

“Don’t you ever knock? I could have a woman up here.”

“You’ve never brought a woman up here.”

“Is that the bad news?” Taehyung yawned. 

“No,” Jungkook tossed a small stack of newspapers and printed digital articles into his lap, “this is the bad news.”

Pictures of you, Min Yoongi, and even himself were splashed over the front pages of all of them. 

PARK ANGEL TRADES ONE CORPORATE HEIR FOR ANOTHER AT MIN GALA

WHO WILL WIN THE PARK ANGEL’S HEART? KIM TAEHYUNG OR MIN YOONGI? LET US KNOW IN THE COMMENTS

NEW ROMANCE ALERT? PARK ANGEL LEAVES JOSEON BALL WITH MIN SCION 

“The Park Angel?” 

“That’s what the media calls her... The public is rather fascinated with her actually.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Taehyung mumbled. 

“Of course not, sir. It’s a great mystery.”

As usual, Taehyung chose to ignore his aide’s lethal snark and pressed on to the matter at hand. 

“This is a flaming disaster.”

“Oh I don’t know. I really appreciated the picture of you staring on forlornly while she and Yoongi climbed into the Aston Martin. Takes a real gift to capture all that drama in a single frame.”

“Which one was that?!” 

“It’s right under the MAN DOWN: PARK ANGEL LEAVES KIM TAEHYUNG HEARTBROKEN headline.”

Tae ran his hand down over his face in exasperation. 

“I’m surprised my mother hasn’t called.”

“She has. Twice.”

“I don’t suppose that’s the ‘worse news’ is it?”

“No.”

“Of course it isn’t. I’m never that lucky.” He collapsed backwards into his pillows with a beleaguered huff. “Go ahead then. Tell me.”

“Park Jimin is on the line for you right now.”

After a small eternity on the phone with Jimin (assuring him that NO Min Yoongi had not despoiled his precious sister and YES he would definitely do better next time), Taehyung was forced to attend an impromptu brunch with his mother. It took considerable effort, but he was eventually able to convince her that you were neither breaking his heart nor expecting his child. 

By the time he arrived to collect you for this evening’s event, Taehyung was already sick of hearing your name (he’d spoken it no less than three hundred times since Jungkook woke him this morning).

You were in much the same boat as Taehyung, having spent most of the afternoon pacifying Jimin and clearing up your own mother’s romantic delusions regarding the Min and Kim heirs respectively. 

Tonight’s gala was a Victorian Christmas Ball thrown by the National Literary Fund and the entire venue had been transformed into a Charles Dickens fever dream. 

Unlike the Min Gala (whose theme was guarded like a state secret every year) the Literary Fund’s tribute to A Christmas Carol was tradition and you were dressed accordingly in a custom corset gown with gorgeous detailing. 

Every second of effort it took to lace yourself into the monstrosity was worth the look on Taehyung’s face the moment you slipped off your cape. 

“Something wrong, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung was desperately trying to look literally anywhere but your chest, where said corset was serving up your breasts like a debauched buffet. 

Jimin. Think of Jimin. Think of what Jimin will do to you. Think of how much trouble she’s caused-

He peeked again.

I would pay a million dollars to suck those tits. 

“Nothing at all,” his voice cracked. 

The itinerary for the evening included performances by a local children’s choir, a traditional waltz, and—of course—dinner.

You both managed to get along without snapping at each other during the choral performance, but as two of the largest donors to the Children’s Literacy Initiative, neither of you could escape being drawn into the waltz. 

The energetic socialite who Taehyung flirted with over dinner the previous night eventually lured him onto the floor while you graciously accepted an invitation from a lovely older gentleman who chaired the Fund’s event committee. 

For the first few movements, you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Mr. Lee was charming, respectful, and still an excellent dancer despite his advanced age. It wasn’t until a familiar sound caught your attention that the lightness in your chest suddenly felt heavy...

Taehyung was laughing. 

You heard him do so many times over the years, and in each instance, the carefree magic of it never failed to make your heart flutter. 

But now he was smiling down at the pretty little heiress and laughing for her… and the flutter in your chest was accompanied by something else. 

Something that felt an awful lot like longing. 

“Does he know you look at him like that?” Mr. Lee asked quietly. 

Your eyes flew guiltily to his, but it was too late. The old man had caught a glimpse of the secret you buried deeply for more than a decade; so deeply, in fact, there were times you almost forgot it yourself...

Almost. 

“No,” you whispered, “he has no idea.” 

Disaster struck at dinner. 

Taehyung quite liked dancing with the lovely Miss Something-or-Other. She was sweet and funny and (unlike with you) he wasn’t constantly torn between agitation and raging inappropriate lust in her presence. 

The cold shoulder you offered him when he took his seat seemed even more frigid than usual and he spent half the meal wondering what he’d done to earn your amplified disdain when suddenly—

Your hand smacked down on his wrist, seizing it in a vise-like grip. 

Taehyung nearly choked on his steak and was about to give you a searing set-down over your spontaneous grabby-ness when he noticed your expression. 

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, leaning forward in concern. 

“I-I need—” 

It looked as if you were in some sort of physical pain and Taehyung was rapidly becoming worried. 

“I need your help,” you finally managed to whimper and the next thing he knew, you were dragging him away from the table and into one of the secluded alcoves near the main entrance hall. 

“Is there anyone around? Can anyone see us?” The look on your face bordered on unhinged. 

“No. There’s no one. Park, are you okay? What’s going on I—”

“I need you to unlace my dress,” you hissed frantically. 

At that moment, a bomb could have gone off and Taehyung wouldn’t have blinked. 

You, however, were completely preoccupied with your own distress and therefore oblivious to his. 

“My earring broke during dinner and fell down there and now it’s stabbing me—”

Your eyes were beginning to tear. Taehyung remained frozen, still trying to figure out whether or not this was a lucid dream. 

“—it’s definitely pierced the skin and there’s a possibility I’m gonna start bleeding through the fabric—”

The mention of blood snapped him out of his daze somewhat. 

“A-Alright. Just turn around—brace yourself on that wall.”

You quickly did as you were told and Taehyung began to tug fruitlessly at the ties cross-crossing your back.

“Why won’t this—”

His fingers fumbled over the knots, desperately trying to loosen them, but they simply wouldn’t budge. 

“I can’t—I can’t get it. Whoever helped you into this thing made sure you weren’t getting out of it.” 

You whined in frustration and the earring shifted a bit in response. 

There was only one other way to fix this (and you would almost rather be in pain). 

“Taehyung I—” you turned to face him again, forcing your eyes shut before reluctantly doing what had to be done “... I need you to reach down the front of my dress and get it.”

He blinked. Twice. 

“I’m sorry—What did you just—”

“Please, Tae,” you whispered desperately, letting your lip tremble in a way he had never been able to resist, “it hurts…”

He gulped. 

His eyes dropped to the matter at hand.

This is fine. Everything’s fine. She’s in pain, right? You’re basically a doctor right now. You’re just going slide your hand in between the most mouthwatering pair of breasts you’ve ever seen and then—

Taehyung’s manic inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of his own moan. He immediately faked a coughing fit to cover it and prayed you hadn’t noticed. 

(You hadn’t. You were actively being stabbed.) 

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he muttered, curling his fingers over the scalloped edge of the bodice. 

You bit your lip, desperately trying to hold back any reaction, but when his knuckle brushed the pebbled tip of your nipple, you gasped. 

Oh.

His hand stuttered, lingering a moment too long over the tight little peak as his gaze suddenly shot up to meet yours. Both of you had been studiously avoiding eye contact, yet now it was as if neither of you could look away. 

Taehyung wet his lips reflexively. 

“It’s too tight,” he whispered, “I need more leverage.” 

Then his arm wrapped over the curve of your lower back and he drew you tightly against him, anchoring your hips just enough to fully slip his hand between your body and the corset. 

You were so warm.

So soft...

“I can feel it,” he grunted, “but I can’t get a good grip on it.” 

His mouth pressed into a tight line as he leaned forward, bringing your back up against the wall. You let out a little squeak and his eyes darted briefly down to your mouth before he spoke again. 

“Hold on to me.”  

You nodded and wordlessly slid your arms around his waist.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost pretend that this wasn’t one of the most erotic moments of your life. 

You could almost pretend that it meant nothing. 

Your mind was spinning wildly, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he noticed how strangely you were breathing or how hard your heart was beating...

“I’ve got it,” he murmured. Shivers shot down your spine at the dark timbre of his voice. 

He was so close. You could feel every word he spoke brushing softly against your skin. 

“On ‘three’ I’m going to pull it out… Are you ready?”

You drew in a final steadying breath. 

“Do it.”

He nodded. 

“One… Two… Three—”

Taehyung yanked his hand back and several things happened at once. 

Your breasts bounced almost entirely out of the corset. 

The decorative clasps on the front of your gown tangled with the buttons on his shirt and when he pulled back, three of them went flying off like stray bullets. 

And finally, the corset didn’t relinquish Taehyung’s hand quite quickly enough and, as a result, you toppled forward and crashed down on top of him, smashing your newly bare breasts to his newly bare chest. 

It could have been ten seconds or ten hours that passed by while the two of you lay there, breathing heavily in a pile of confused arousal when—

“... Is… everything alright here?”

You both looked up to find a thoroughly scandalized member of the waitstaff standing over you. 

Taehyung saw his life flash before his eyes—ending (of course) with Jimin murdering him for this. 

He gulped again. 

“I can explain.” 

It was decided—for the sake of appearances—that you would both leave the venue (immediately) in separate vehicles. 

Taehyung dropped a cool three hundred in crisp bills on the unfortunate waiter in order to help him ‘forget’ whatever he may or may not have seen. 

Neither of you spoke another word to each other in the ten minutes it took to bribe all the appropriate parties, gather your coats, and call for two separate town cars. 

Something had happened when he touched you; a subtle shift in the precarious balance of your relationship that you both felt keenly, but could not possibly begin to define. 

Taehyung barely even remembered climbing into the back of a vehicle. His body was firing on auto-pilot after the sensory overload of the last half hour. It wasn’t until he was nearly home that he realized he was still holding onto your earring. 

His mind began to wander as he examined the troublesome bauble in his palm. It was a striking piece; deceptively complex and unexpectedly beautiful. 

Just like you.

He told himself that the heat pooling low in his belly was anger—that the strange anxiousness to be near you was simply a desire for retribution—that it was merely platonic curiosity that left his hands aching to explore the rest of your curves. 

Lies.

… and pitifully transparent ones at that. 

Still, he clung to them desperately out of self-preservation. 

The gentle hum of his phone suddenly disturbed Taehyung’s silent contemplation. 

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin 

I made it home safely. 

Taehyung’s fingers were typing a reply before he could properly consider the consequence of his actions. 

To: Park Gremlin

I require proof… like last time. 

He nearly threw the phone the moment he sent it, running his hands down over his face in disbelief. 

You’re playing with fire, Kim Taehyung. 

And he was burning up already. He had no business sending you texts like that. Maybe you wouldn’t catch it. Maybe he could just-

The phone went off again and it was embarrassing how quickly he scrambled to open your response. 

His heart stuttered in his chest. His breathing ceased entirely-

And he knew—he knew—there was no coming back from this.

At first glance the photo was nearly identical to the shot you sent him last night. Same room, same angle… 

same mirror.

Yet this time, the reflection was quite different. 

The temptress in the glass wore nothing but that sinfully delicious corset and a pair of silky lace thigh highs, each accented with a green satin bow. 

He wanted to rip them off with his teeth. 

 “Oh Taehyung,” he whispered, as a dark wave primitive longing tore through him, “you are in so much trouble.”

Across town (buried beneath a pile of blankets) you were still struggling to process the boldness of your own actions when his response lit up your screen. 

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

Green is my favorite color. 

“WHERE IS HE—”

Taehyung awoke to a series of crashes and shouts echoing from the floor below him. 

Jungkook was already seated in the corner of the room reading a newspaper. 

“Good morning, sir,” he said without looking up. “Would you like the bad news or the worse news?”

Suddenly the french doors of his bedroom slammed open and one very irate Park Jimin stormed through. 

“I swear I should have seen this coming. The two of you have always been obsessed with each other, but I never imagined—”

Taehyung’s eyes widened guiltily. He quickly schooled his features into a confused glare. 

“Jimin, I’ve only been awake for fifteen seconds. What the hell are you talking about?!”

Another stack of newspapers hit his lap and this time the pictures were mostly of him with his shirt ripped halfway down his chest. 

KIM HEIR AND PARK ANGEL CAUSE AN OLD-FASHIONED SCANDAL AT VICTORIAN BALL

FORGET MISTLETOE: KIM TAEHYUNG DISCOVERED UNDER THE PARK ANGEL AT CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION

NAUGHTY NOEL? PARK ANGEL’S STEAMY AFFAIR WITH CORPORATE PRINCE 

PARK ANGEL TOPS KIM TAEHYUNG’S CHRISTMAS TREE

He winced a bit at that last one. 

“You have ten seconds to explain before I start throwing things.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to do just that, but he was interrupted when his mother marched into the room waving the same articles that Jimin had just thrown at him. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG I raised you better than this! How could you!? That poor girl!”

“Mother!” he squeaked, yanking his blanket up over his chest like a frightened debutante. 

Jungkook began surreptitiously filming the whole debacle from the corner. 

“Indeed,” Jimin added darkly, crossing his arms over his chest, “how could you?”

Taehyung sighed heavily. 

“Is anyone else going to come charging into my bedroom?”

“Just answer me once and for all, is she pregnant?” 

“WHAT?!” 

“NO! Mother! Oh my—”

“Why does your mom think my little sister is pregnant?!”

Taehyung waved his arms wildly in exasperation. 

“My mom thinks everyone is pregnant! You know this!”

Jungkook could no longer contain his hysterical cackling. He very nearly fell off the chair trying to hold it all in. 

“Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung ground out irritably, “if it’s not too much trouble, could you please escort everyone out of my bedroom so I can get dressed!” 

“So you see—I was basically like a doctor,” Taehyung finished emphatically. 

He spent the past twenty minutes explaining to the entire table (which now included both you and your mother) why it was necessary to shove his hand down the front of your dress. 

Park Soomin had shown up at his door looking for answers (and dragging you behind her like a sacrificial lamb) about three minutes after Jimin. 

You had taken one look at Jimin’s murderous expression and insisted that the situation be evaluated over breakfast at the cafe down the street (where there were lots of witnesses). 

Which was how you, Taehyung, Jimin, and both your mothers ended up discussing your cleavage over coffee in a public restaurant. 

Jimin was the first to break. It was a few snorts at first, but he was basically in tears by the end of it, wheezing about how he never doubted Taehyung for a second and holding on to his sides from laughing too hard. 

Taehyung’s gaze met yours for a brief, heated exchange. He conveniently forgot to mention your slightly-less-than-explainable ‘check-in’ texts, but their existence was palpable in the air between you. 

“I think I’ll take a walk,” you muttered, excusing yourself from the complicated atmosphere at the table. 

Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you a tad too long as you wandered away, a fact that wasn’t missed by either of your mothers.

“Just a few more events and you can go back to not seeing her at all,” Jimin chuckled, patting him on the back. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung answered with a tight smile. “That’s… great.”

The cafe had a lovely little balcony area decorated with all sorts of comforting Christmas foliage. It was far more inviting than the awkward conversation and confusing stares you and Taehyung had been trading all morning. 

For the first time in the nearly fifteen years of your relationship (such as it was) you didn’t know where you stood with him… and it bothered you more than you cared to admit. 

Taehyung had always been important to you, whether you wanted him to be or not. He mattered—effortlessly—from the first moment you met him and continued to do so without regard for your sanity. 

Whatever was building between you now would almost certainly bring change… though what kind of change was anyone’s guess. 

It was hard to imagine the years ahead without the strange excitement he always brought to your life, but some things were simply out of your control…

“I never thought I’d see you here.”

A profoundly unpleasant feeling (something similar to falling through the ice on a frozen pond) overtook you. 

“Milo.” Even saying his name felt gross. You sighed. “What is so strange about seeing me here?”

The man in question blushed in a way you once found irresistible. 

“I looked for you everywhere. All your usual places—”

“I avoided them.”

I avoided you. 

Milo nodded. 

“I—I figured.” 

He took a step closer and you instinctively moved back. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable, but you had long since become immune. 

“What are you doing?” you hissed angrily. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”

“Yes, but—” his hand reached out to curl over your forearm and you recoiled, “you didn’t give me a chance to explain—”

“Excuse me.” 

You both turned to see Kim Taehyung with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Milo like he was a roach that crawled across his dinner plate. 

“Your mother sent me to come find you. She wants to leave.” 

You nodded and moved to pull away, but Milo’s grip tightened on your arm. 

“No—please if you just give me a minute—”

“That is enough,” Taehyung snarled, seizing the other man’s hand and forcibly removing it from your person. He angled his body between the two of you protectively. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Milo’s eyes narrowed. 

“You’re Kim Taehyung. I read all about you in the papers this morning.” His lips twisted into an ugly sneer as he addressed you. “You really think you’re better off with him if that’s the way he treats you?”

Taehyung tensed menacingly beside you, but you laid a gentle hand on his arm to calm him. 

“None of that is any of your concern.” Your gaze rose to meet his defiantly. “Nothing about me is your concern anymore.”

Milo’s eyes fell to where your palm rested on the other man’s sleeve, noticing the way you both unconsciously leaned toward one another. 

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, storming off. 

After he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. 

“Thank you,” you whispered (though you couldn’t resist adding), “I could have handled it myself of course…”

Taehyung laughed. 

“Oh I know. I was at that party where you knocked out Tyler Jung for grabbing your ass.” 

You grinned. 

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well I’m sure Tyler hasn’t.” 

(He neglected to mention that he split Tyler’s lip behind the library the next day, just to make sure it was extra memorable for him.) 

“I wish I could forget about Milo.”

“... Are you still in love with him?” 

The words tasted like ash in his mouth. 

“No.” You smiled softly. “I’m not sure I was ever in love with him actually. It’s more—” you sighed, “—embarrassment… wounded pride.”

Taehyung tilted his head curiously and you found yourself continuing. 

“In the beginning, he was very playful and charming—and obviously handsome. He reminded me so much of—”

you. 

You cleared your throat. 

“Anyway… I was quite taken with him at first. I didn’t suspect any ulterior motives.” You shrugged, trying to hold back the unpleasant emotions that always threatened to overrun you in moments like this. “I just thought he liked me.”

Taehyung’s eyes filled with sympathy and understanding as you spoke. It felt oddly natural to open up to him this way. 

“Jimin is very protective of me—with good reason it turns out. He was suspicious of Milo and hired people to do some discreet digging.”

Your hands wrapped around your body for both warmth and comfort. 

“Milo’s family owns several companies, just like ours, but they’re all struggling. His father sent him to me hoping that he would eventually get compromising information… a sex tape or photographs—something of that nature. They intended to blackmail Jimin into doing business with them.”

Taehyung felt his jaw clench painfully. Fury, hot and profound, rolled through him. 

“I should kill him.”

You shook your head, amused in spite of yourself. 

“That’s exactly what Jimin said.”

“He has good instincts.”

“Scum like Milo aren’t worth it,” you chuckled. “He never got what he wanted… but I was still mortified. I felt like such a fool for believing him.”

“No,” Taehyung’s hands slid up to cup your shoulders, “it’s not foolish to believe that someone cared for you.”

It would be so easy to care for you. 

“Besides…” his eyes fell briefly to your lips as he searched for the right words, “I saw the way he looked at you and—even though he’s clearly a terrible person—I believe his feelings may have been genuine.”

You nodded. 

“That’s what he keeps trying to tell me—that he did have bad intentions, but ended up falling for me anyway.” You shook your head. “As If I could believe a word he says.”

The silence between you stretched comfortably. Taehyung sensed you had more to say, so he waited until you were ready to voice it. 

“I think that’s why I’m so sensitive about handling things on my own lately… and just now even. I want to prove to everyone—to myself—that I’m not a liability.”

“Hey,” he whispered, tipping your chin up till your gazes met, “no one thinks you’re a liability. And even if you are capable, no one should have to fight their own battles all the time—especially when they’re emotionally compromised…” His thumb gently brushed away the small tear that escaped down the curve of your cheek. “That’s the benefit of having people who care about you.”

“... Like you?” 

The words left you so softly, you could almost imagine they were still in your head where they likely should have stayed. 

Taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze became even more intent and you ceased breathing altogether. After a moment his lips parted as if he was about to speak- 

“What’s going on, guys?”

You both jerked back at the sound of your brother’s voice. He was standing in the entrance to the balcony, gaze darting suspiciously between the two of you. 

Taehyung was a bit dazed, but you were always quicker on your feet. 

“I ran into Milo… Tae was calming me down.”

Jimin’s eyes hardened immediately. 

“Where is he?”

“Long gone,” you mumbled, ambling over to the familiar warmth of his arms. “I just want to go home.” 

The Black and White Ball was one of the most coveted invitations of the holiday season. 

The dress code was quite strict (all black or all white—no exceptions) and it was one of the few events where people actually arrived in limousines. 

Taehyung loathed limousines. He felt absurdly pretentious pulling up to your building in such a gauche ride, but traditions and appearances meant too much in his world to simply disregard them. 

His ensemble for the evening was a beautifully tailored black suit with hand-stitched baroque detailing. Oddly, he found himself wondering what you would think of it... 

“You look like a vampire.”

Taehyung turned at the sound of your voice and was struck, yet again, by how incredibly beautiful you were. 

You had chosen to wear white, donning an exquisite gown with delicate pearl beading and a daring sweetheart neckline that molded perfectly to your frame. 

If he looked like a vampire, you were surely an angel. 

Still…

Angel or not, he couldn’t let that comment pass. 

“I think I’m offended.”

“I can’t imagine why. After all, loads of women are attracted to Nosferatu.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed. 

“There are so many sexy vampires in popular culture, but you just had to lump me in with the creepy bald one...”

You shrugged playfully. 

“I wouldn’t want you to think I was going soft.”

A wicked grin danced over your lips as you strolled past him regally—just as you had many times before... 

This time, however, he let his eyes linger a little longer on the view. 

Lord have mercy. 

“Of course not,” he coughed. 

“You’re what?!”

You rolled your eyes.

Tonight had been going rather well. 

The two of you formed a mutual unspoken agreement to pretend that your last encounter on the balcony (and on the phone) had never happened and (despite the heated glances you occasionally traded) the bickering and playful banter characteristic of your relationship had all but returned to normal...

Until Taehyung learned of your participation in the evening’s main event. 

“I told you, I’m part of the date auction this year.”

“Does your brother know about this?!”

“I didn’t see any reason to bother him with it.” You were suddenly preoccupied with your nails. 

“Woman,” Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you trying to make my life difficult?”

“No, I’m just naturally gifted in that respect.”

You turned and began making your way to the front, but Taehyung was hot on your heels and clearly not ready to let the matter rest. 

“I cannot believe you’re actually going through with this! It’s not 1810, you know. We shouldn’t just auction off women for dates—”

“You’re absolutely right, Tae Tae.” You brushed a condescending pat over his cheek. “Nowadays we auction off the men too.”

Then you sauntered off to join the rest of the participating women—and men—backstage, leaving Taehyung to stew about the entire situation from the crowd. 

“As you know, all proceeds from tonight’s auction go to fight childhood hunger right here in our city. For legal purposes, I must advise all bidders that you are only bidding on the company of the individual in question.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Jimin is probably going to kill me for this.”

“If you place the winning bid, then you and your date will receive two VIP tickets to the Governor's Winter Wonderland Gala which comes with a variety of amenities including; a luxury limousine service, one of the private and famously romantic Winter Wonderland dinner experiences—”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Jimin is definitely gonna kill me for this.” 

“—unlimited free drinks, ten complimentary tickets for each of the grand prize raffles, photos with the Governor and his family, along with many more surprises!”

Taehyung grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and downed it in one go. 

“And now for our first date of the evening! Mr. Jackson Wang!” 

Jackson went for a cool six grand because no one was brave enough to outbid his girlfriend. 

After him, the beautiful Manoban heiress and her handsome cousin Kim Namjoon went for twelve grand each.

Jung Hoseok started a frenzied bidding war between two young socialites and Mrs. O’Malley. He ended up going to the lovely Ms. Ana Fallon for a staggering twenty thousand dollars. 

Taehyung’s own cousin, Kim Seokjin, paid a jaw-dropping twenty-one thousand dollars for Lin Yuna, the young CEO of Lin Cosmetics. (Taehyung made a mental note to ask him about that later.) 

Then it was your turn. 

“The next lady on our list needs no introduction. The lovely Park Angel has graciously agreed to a date with one lucky bidder tonight! Who will it be? Do I hear ten thousand?”

“Ten thousand.”

Taehyung swung his head toward the first bidder and breathed a sigh of relief. 

Tam Martin, one of your best friends and very gay. 

“Eleven thousand.”

“Twelve thousand.”

“Fifteen.”

“Sixteen thousand dollars.”

“Seventeen thousand.”

“Eighteen.”

Taehyung was having trouble keeping up with all the bidders. His ears were starting to ring again and a strange unpleasant nausea was building in his stomach. 

“Twenty thousand.”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

“Thirty thousand!”

At the sound of the last bidder’s voice, you noticeably paled. Your eyes flew to Taehyung’s and immediately he knew exactly who it was. 

Milo.

Before he could even react to the new information, another voice joined the fray. 

“Forty thousand.”

Min Yoongi smiled smugly from the other side of the room and even had the audacity to throw you a wink. 

You smiled shyly at the young heir’s boldness and Taehyung felt something downright unholy rise up in his chest. 

No. 

Milo was still bidding. 

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

Not her. 

“Sixty,” Yoongi countered.

She’s mine. 

Suddenly Taehyung was on his feet. 

“One hundred thousand dollars!” 

The silence in the backseat of your limousine was deafening. 

Tension charged the air like an electric current as the significance of the last hour weighed heavily between you. 

The spacious luxury vehicle allowed you to sit facing one another. Taehyung’s eyes were focused on his hands, but you were looking at him—letting your mind run wild with speculation. 

And hope. 

Part of you was still there, on the stage, watching him stand up and bid a fortune for the pleasure of your company. 

His gaze was so fierce when he spoke, like an ancient emperor calling out his decree for the people to obey. 

You dreamed about him bidding on you when you signed up for the auction (even before Jimin bullied him into accompanying you). You let yourself imagine him speaking out again and again till the others stepped back—

Yet you never dared hope for it. 

However, the last several days marked an unexpected turning point in your relationship. 

For years, you and he were like magnets with a too-similar charge, but something had shifted irrevocably between you, and somehow your stubborn similarities became opposites that could not resist their attraction. 

Kim Taehyung was one of the wealthiest men in the city…

But he didn’t need to buy your heart. 

It had always been his, even if you didn’t want to admit it. 

He had claimed you tonight—and every single soul in that ballroom knew it. 

The next move was yours and you intended to make it. 

“Mmm,” you hissed a bit, bringing your hand to rest just below your breasts. 

Taehyung’s gaze flew up in concern. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s just that scratch from the earring,” your fingers rubbed gingerly at the spot, drawing his focus to it, “it still stings.”

“Oh… I—” he shook his head, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Do you want to see?” 

Taehyung’s eyes rose slowly to yours. 

You watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he considered your words. Anticipation vibrated through your blood like notes struck on a piano—

Then he nodded...

And you both were lost. 

Trembling fingers slid the zipper down the side of your gown. The dress itself was a marvel of physics designed to support you without the need for a bra. 

Taehyung drew in an impossibly deep breath as the fabric drifted to your waist, baring the perfect mounds of your breasts to him entirely. 

“Here,” you whispered, pointing to a small red mark just under the curve of your left one. 

He bit back a moan. 

“I—I see. That looks… painful.” His fingers dug into the seat beside him. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

You nodded. 

“Kiss it better.”

Taehyung felt the air knock out of his lungs like a sucker punch. 

This must have been how Adam felt when Eve offered him the forbidden fruit all those millennia ago. 

He knew he shouldn’t—

but he could never deny you. 

“Of course.”

You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He looked like a man possessed and you reveled in the power of it. 

It was for you. 

He wanted you. 

Your back arched up the slightest bit, beckoning to him—offering him a taste of what he was so desperately craving. 

Touch me… please. 

Large palms landed on either side of your thighs, bracing him on the seat beneath you. The tip of his nose teased the delicate line of your collar bone and he swore violently under his breath. 

Then his lips were on your skin and your mind went blank. 

“Taehyung—“ you moaned. 

Hot open-mouthed kisses spread over the soft swell of your breast and you gasped— shuddering helplessly as a fierce wave of pleasure tore through you.

Sweet merciful heavens. 

Over the years you imagined a moment like this thousands of times in your head—only to discover now that you had pitifully underestimated both his passion and his skill. 

You had dreamed of a quiet fire—but he had unleashed an inferno. 

The lewd sounds of his mouth nipping and sucking at your tender flesh filled the small space around you as he poured himself into each obscene contact—stopping briefly to flick his tongue over the taunt peak of your nipple. You trembled breathlessly at the sharp snap of sensation, letting your head fall back against the seat as you buried your fingers in his soft curls. 

“T-Tae—”

Finally his mouth fastened over the tiny scratch, and the kiss deepened. You knew what he was doing, what the result of his efforts would be—

He was marking you. 

And you wanted it. 

Oh how you wanted it. 

Suddenly the car took a sharp turn, causing Taehyung to lose his grip on the seat. His arms wrapped around your torso for balance, dragging you fully against him.

“Does it feel better, Angel?” he growled. 

You nodded frantically and he nipped at the underside of your breast. 

“Speak up.”  

“Yes, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “it feels so much better.” 

“Mmmm,” he hummed, brushing his mouth along the sensitive column of your neck. “Who knew you could be such a good girl?”

Then his hand came up to grip your chin, turning it so your lips were almost against his—

“Madame. We’ve arrived.”

The driver’s voice cut over your senses like a shard of ice. 

Taehyung jerked backward and immediately buried his face in his hands. 

Your fingers hastily yanked your dress up and you stumbled out of the car in a daze, letting your feet carry you forward until you collapsed on top of your bed. 

Did we just...

You hadn’t even begun to collect your thoughts when your phone buzzed from inside your purse. 

1 New Message from: Taehyung 🙄🥴🙈

I need to know you made it safely to your room. 

You grinned. 

Greedy boy. 

Back in the limousine, the boy in question was nervously tapping the corner of his phone against his chin as he waited for your reply. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Oh? But you saw me walk in… and I’m already in bed.

Taehyung growled in frustration. 

She would be a tease. 

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

I tend to worry. Put my mind at ease. 

He shook his head. 

I have officially gone insane. 

The phone buzzed again. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Well… We can’t have that can we… 

Taehyung literally felt the whine tear out of him as he opened the picture. 

Your gorgeous body (the body he’d had his hands and mouth on for one glorious minute) was nestled decadently atop a pile of fluffy blue blankets and wrapped in nothing but a tiny silk robe. 

The neck gaped open just enough to show off the pretty red marks he left on the delectable curve of your breast. 

He groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

That's all I get after I made the pain go away? Good girls send real proof, Angel

The screen lit up again almost immediately. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Guess I’m not such a good girl after all...

Jimin came tearing through the Kim Manor front gate at precisely 7 AM—only to find Jungkook camped out at the entrance with several outdoor space heaters and a giant mug of hot chocolate.

“He told you not to let me in, didn’t he?”

Jungkook took a long satisfying sip of his cocoa. 

“I hope you don’t feel singled out, sir. I’m not allowed to let his mother in either.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Of course, Mr. Park, let me just pull up his schedule—”

“I need to talk to him now.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Kim is booked solid for the morning.”

Jimin stomped his foot like a petulant child. 

“I know he’s up there.”

Jungkook grinned. 

“You’re welcome to climb the trellis and check. I promise not to stop you if you make it all the way up.”

“COME DOWN HERE AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!” Jimin shouted at the top of his lungs. 

Jungkook took another long pull of his drink. 

“Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit today, sir?”

“The reason for my visit,” Jimin yanked out his phone and angrily began typing into the search bar, “is that your boss paid ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS for my sister at a date auction last night and I want to know what the hell is going on between them!”

The article Jimin pulled up (DEVILISH KIM TAEHYUNG BUYS HIMSELF A $100,000 ANGEL) featured an image of the two of you entering the Black and White Ball. Your head was thrown back in laughter and Taehyung was grinning down at you as if you’d personally hung all the stars in the sky for him. 

A genuine smile crept over Jungkook’s face as he studied the photograph. 

“That’s quite a headline.” He handed Jimin’s phone back. “Have you asked your sister about it?”

“No, I swung by earlier, but she wasn’t home so—” His eyes widened. “Oh my—is she—”

Jimin suddenly took off running for the trellis, and Jungkook scrambled out of his chair to chase him. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG IF MY SISTER IS IN THAT ROOM—”

He was already three feet off the ground when Jungkook yanked him back. 

“I thought you said I could climb the trellis!”

“Yes,” Jungkook wheezed, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” That trellis is a hundred years old! A few more feet and I’d be scraping you off the antique brickwork!”

Jimin scowled and crossed his arms. 

“Are you by any chance open to bribes?”

“Normally yes, but Tae promised to double my Christmas bonus if I didn’t accept them today.”

Jimin continued to eye the trellis speculatively, clearly willing to take his chances. Jungkook sighed and rubbed his forehead. 

“Mr. Park, I promise you… He came home alone last night. In fact, they both returned earlier than usual because your sister had a 7 AM finance meeting.” He paused significantly to glance at his watch. “Which is probably where she is right now.”

“Oh… Well.”

Jungkook bit his lip to hold back a snort and Jimin’s eyes narrowed. 

“He has to come down eventually.”

“One would think.”

The young Park heir glanced toward Taehyung’s window again just in time to see the man in question dart back behind the curtains. 

"I KNOW YOU'RE AWAKE, KIM TAEHYUNG, YOU PHILANDERING SLEAZE BAG!" 

Jimin made another jump for the trellis and this time Jungkook caught him in mid-air. 

“Sir, I’m sure it was just the maid!”

“It’s not the maid! I’d know that raggedy mop of his anywhere!”

Jungkook was out of breath at this point. Park Jimin might be small, but he was fierce. 

“Perhaps it’s best if you took a moment to collect yourself,” he grunted. “There’s a lovely new spa down the street and they sent Taehyung two free deluxe packages.”

Jimin stopped struggling. 

“Oh?”

Five minutes later, Jungkook sighed deeply and fished his phone out of his back pocket. 

“He’s gone, sir.”

“Excellent work, Jungkook. I never doubted you for a second.”

“However…”

“... However?”

“I had to give him your spa passes.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“Are you headed for a gala or the guillotine?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t pay extra for commentary.”

“It’s complimentary, sir.”

The Kim heir tugged absently at the material of his absurdly expensive evening wear. 

Why do these events always have to be so uncomfortable? 

“Seriously, Tae… you seem,” the young aide searched for the right words, “unusually tense.”

Taehyung’s mind flashed back to three nights ago when he had his mouth wrapped around your breast. 

“Not at all,” he coughed, loosening the collar of his shirt. 

Jungkook bit his lip.

“Is this about Ms. Park, sir?”

The cufflinks Taehyung was attempting to fasten suddenly went flying across the room and hit a lamp. 

Both men winced. 

“I think that was your grandmother’s.”

Taehyung sighed. 

“I admit there have been… some developments.”

Jungkook nodded nonchalantly, trying to disguise the fact that he was internally frothing at the mouth for details. 

“... Such as?”

Taehyung gulped. 

“It started out rather innocently I suppose…” he cleared his throat, “but there may have been some suggestive photographs.”

“There may have been? Are you not sure?”

Taehyung colored guiltily. 

“Well—”

“Do you need me to check for you, sir? I have an art history degree.”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook grinned. 

“That’s what I thought.”

Taehyung yanked his tie out of the younger man’s hand. 

“Things have… escalated a bit.”

“Escalated how?”

I licked her tit in the back of a limo.

“Physically.”

It was everything Jungkook could do to maintain a straight face. 

“That’s… shocking.”

“Then why don’t you seem shocked?” Taehyung grumbled. 

A small smile played across Jungkook’s lips as he pointedly ignored the elder man’s observation.

“So what are you going to do, sir?”

Taehyung was silent for a long moment. 

“I honestly have no idea.”

Watching you walk toward him was an experience.  

Taehyung wondered absently if this was how it would be from now on; if for the rest of his life just the sight of you would be enough to scatter his mind and his pulse and even the way he breathed. 

Your dress tonight was deadly. 

It was a decadent red satin halter that clung to every curve. The truly wicked detail, however, was a daring slit that ran the entire length of your leg. 

Taehyung was certain he was going to trip over his own tongue at some point if he looked directly at you for too long. 

Oh help. 

Memories of your previous encounter flooded his senses. Every second you were getting closer and he didn’t know what to do—what to say. 

So he didn’t say anything at all. 

Not a word when you reached the bottom of the stairs. Nothing but silence as he opened the door of the limo for you. More silence and no eye contact as he settled into the seat across from yours—

And you tolerated that for about three minutes. 

“I never thought I’d see the day when Kim Taehyung didn’t have a comment about something. Perhaps I should mark this down on my calendar.”

The words were lightly spoken, but you were shaking on the inside. The last time the two of you were alone together he had your dress around your waist and you were moaning his name. Now he wasn’t talking and you were torn between panic and irritation. 

Taehyung, however, latched onto your passive barb like a lifeline. 

“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear from the benevolent Park Angel?” He grinned. “Surely not.”

“Red is not a particularly angelic color. Perhaps I’m feeling feisty today.”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat and indulged himself in a thorough examination of your outfit. The urge to run his hands over the satin-covered lines of your body was nearly unbearable. He curled his fingers into fists to keep them from doing just that. 

She is definitely trying to kill me. 

“Should I be worried?”

Now it was your turn to grin. 

“I guess we’ll find out.”

The Governor’s Winter Wonderland Gala was by far the most extravagant event of the holiday season. Tickets cost a small fortune and sold out almost immediately. 

But it was well worth the price of admission.

Thousands of lights sparkled overhead as you made your way through the great hall of Governor Kim’s mansion. 

It was like stepping into a fairytale. 

Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sheer wonder in your expression was breathtaking. 

You were breathtaking.  

“Governor Kim, it is such an honor to finally meet you.”

The Governor was a handsome man in his early fifties with a smile that was every bit as lethal as it had been twenty-five years ago. 

“The honor is all mine, Ms. Park. I trust my nephew is treating you well.”

Your eyes widened. 

“N-nephew?”

Taehyung shrugged. 

“I don’t really talk about it much.” 

The Governor chuckled and you cleared your throat to cover your nervousness. 

“Yes, he’s been a very capable escort.”

“Is that so?” Governor Kim smiled charmingly. “Well if it doesn’t work out, my son Seokjin is still single—”

“Thank you, Uncle. It was lovely to see you as always.”

You squeaked as Taehyung placed his hand firmly on the curve of your back and practically dragged you away. 

The Governor just shook his head and laughed. 

“Oh kid, you’ve got it bad.”

Everywhere you looked there was beauty. 

Whoever planned the gala this year had truly gone above and beyond. Surrounded on all sides by glittering trees and snowy vignettes, it was easy to be swept away in the festive magic of the evening. 

All in all (despite some initial awkwardness), you were having a fantastic time...

Until she showed up. 

“Kim Taehyung! Is that you?”

Every single hair on your body stood on end, but before you could determine the source of the shrill squealing, you found yourself being nudged aside by a blinding golden gown and some very high heels. 

“Aubrey,” Taehyung grunted as five-and-half feet of gorgeous wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine. “Long time no see.”

“Not since that vacation in Aspen,” she giggled. “We had quite a time, didn’t we Tae Tae!”

Suddenly you had the most unholy urge to slap the spray tan right off this woman. 

Instead, you plastered on a vibrant smile and placed your hand on Taehyung’s sleeve.

“Um. Excuse me, Tae Tae, perhaps you could introduce us?”

Taehyung looked as if he’d just been served raw fire ants for dinner. 

“Yes. Of course. This is—”

“Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine,” she interrupted with a smug little smirk. “Taehyung and I go way back.” Her expression grew just the slightest bit tighter. “And you are?”

“His date,” you deadpanned. 

“Aubrey,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Park she’s—”

“Oh my goodness! You’re Jimin’s little sister aren't you!” Aubrey slapped her hand over his chest and he winced. “That is so precious of you to take her around like this!”

Your eyebrows raised right up into your hairline and Taehyung groaned. 

“Yes, he was kind enough to sign me out of the nursery for the evening.” You offered them both a painfully vacant nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I see one of my play-dates near the buffet.”

Then you turned on your heel and sauntered off without another word. 

Taehyung moved to follow you, but Aubrey curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and pulled him back. 

“Oh let her go, Tae. You and I have so much catching up to do.”

Taehyung pointedly removed her hand from his elbow. 

“Some other time perhaps.” 

Aubrey pouted prettily. 

“You’re not running off after her are you? She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

Taehyung crossed his arms and fixed her with a knowing look. 

“Funny... that’s not what you were implying a moment ago.”

“A moment ago I didn’t have you all to myself. Now I do.” She had the decency to blush. “Perhaps I got a bit jealous.”

“You don’t say.” His eyes continued to search the crowd for any sign of you. 

“It seems I had good reason to be,” she murmured quietly. 

“Aubrey... Listen I—”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“Don’t bother Tae Tae. I’m petty, but I’ve never been pathetic.”

He grinned. 

“Never.”

The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.

“What a shame.”

Then she strolled off with a rueful smile. 

“You know what I don’t understand?”

You turn to find Min Yoongi leaning casually against a nearby column. He looked absurdly handsome as always, but his grin was just the slightest bit mischievous. 

“What don’t you understand, Mr. Min?”

The question was clearly a bait, but you were still fuming from your earlier encounter with Ms. St. Valentine and therefore desperately in need of a distraction. 

Yoongi pushed off the column and lazily made his way toward you.

“I don’t understand how a man pays a hundred thousand dollars for an evening with the most beautiful woman in the city, and then leaves her all by herself.” He leaned forward with a playful grin. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

Oh he’s good. 

You made a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that one.”

Yoongi sighed and shook his head. 

“Couldn’t be me.”

You laughed then. He really was a delightful man. In fact, if you still had your heart, you might have considered letting him take a shot at it. 

Alas. 

You tilted your head speculatively. 

Surely there was no need to brush away good company...

After all, no one else is interested in spending time with me. 

“Since my escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps you could join me for dinner?”

Yoongi held out his hand. 

“I’d be delighted.”

Taehyung wandered around the mansion for nearly forty-five minutes looking for his date.  

Panic was just starting to build in his chest when he finally spotted you

—at his private dining table with Min Yoongi. 

It was everything he could do not to storm over and yank the other man out of his seat by the lapels. 

Alright, Angel. If this is the game you want to play… then let’s play. 

Taehyung felt his anger rise with every step, but he ruthlessly suppressed any sign of it and instead adopted a charming smile. 

“Min, I didn’t expect to find you here. What a… delightful surprise.”

Yoongi’s expression was just a shade too satisfied. Taehyung could already feel his blood pressure beginning to skyrocket. 

“Yes, Ms. Park believed that you were otherwise occupied and invited me to share the meal with her.”

“I see,” Taehyung practically snarled. “However,” his gaze landed heavily on you, “since I paid for this table, I hope you won’t mind if I join you as well?”

You avoided looking at him up to this point, but now you were choking on your wine

“Easy there, Angel,” Taehyung murmured as he pulled up a seat extremely close to yours—so close that your thighs were nearly touching. 

Oh boy. 

Over the next several minutes Yoongi continued to flirt openly and you continued to smile prettily and pretend Taehyung wasn’t there (which naturally infuriated him). 

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with such behavior so easily. 

This was Kim Taehyung, after all, and if there was anything that could be counted on when it came to your shared history, it was that one (or both) of you was always ready to escalate. 

You had just offered the young Min heir yet another flowery compliment when you felt Taehyung make his move. 

Two warm fingers slid under the silken slit of your dress, coming to rest possessively over the soft flesh of your inner thigh. 

You squeaked and nearly spat up your drink. 

Taehyung leaned forward in fake concern, wrapping his arm around you as if to offer aid. 

“Are you alright?”

His hand continued to move significantly beneath your gown, but his face was the picture of innocence. 

You glared. 

“Just fine, thank you.”

A slow grin crept across his features as he began to trace soft intimate patterns over your skin.  

On the other side of the table, Yoongi tilted his head in genuine solicitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded sharply. 

Satisfied, he resumed speaking about whatever it was he’d been saying—though you couldn’t understand a word of it at this point because the torturous strokes Taehyung was leisurely drawing over your thighs were moving closer to your center with each passing second. 

Yet you made no move to stop him. 

You should have. 

You should have slapped his touch away—rebuked him for his boldness—

But you didn’t. 

So he just kept nodding and smiling while Yoongi spoke, even as his fingers teased you with the maddening persistence of a man who knew very well what he was doing. 

You gasped aloud when he finally brushed the pad of his thumb over the thin cotton of your panties. 

“T-Taehyung—” 

“Hmm?” he turned to you, seemingly surprised by your attention (it was—after all—the first time you’d addressed him since the beginning of the meal).

“Could you pass me the salt,” you sputtered (hoping to cover the fact that you moaned his name involuntarily). Unfortunately, Taehyung seemed wholly aware of your ruse, offering you the salt shaker with a superior smirk.

You seriously considered stabbing him with a fork. 

However, before you could carry out any bloodthirsty plans, he pressed his fingers directly over your clit and your eyes rolled back in your head

“Oh my g—” you bit your lip stubbornly, “this lamb is just so good.” 

Sweet mother of macaroons, he is too skilled at this. 

You shoveled another bite into your mouth to cover your whine as Taehyung began to rub tight little circles over your sweet spot. 

Across the table, Yoongi nodded in blissful unawareness. 

“Yes, I agree, the lamb is excellent—very tender.”

Taehyung took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip beneath the fabric of your undergarment. 

Your fork clattered to your plate and your hand came up to cover your mouth as he began running his fingers up and down your soaked slit.

It was everything you could do to hold back your depraved whimpering. 

“I can’t wait to taste it,” Taehyung replied, flicking your clit in a way that guaranteed he wasn’t referring to the lamb. 

At this point Yoongi seemed to notice you were in some sort of distress. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned forward. 

“Ms. Park, are you well?”

Taehyung chose that moment to sink his finger into the welcoming heat of your pussy. 

“Yes,” you almost sobbed, “I’m-I’m very well—thank you.”

“Excellent,” Yoongi smiled as he rose to his feet. “If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you could favor me with a dance?”

Several attendees were already making their way to the center of the floor and the orchestra was beginning to play.

Your entire body, however, was vibrating like a plucked harp string and Taehyung was still brushing back and forth against your clit, driving you toward a release that promised to be explosive. 

There was no way—simply no way—that you would be capable of hiding it. 

“Yes! I would love to dance with you,” you squeaked, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist frantically. The feel of him pulling out of your sopping core was nearly enough to have you coming right there. 

Thankfully, Yoongi remained utterly oblivious to the debauchery unfolding beneath the table. He took your hand and helped you to your feet with an eager smile (and it was a good thing too because your legs were still shaking). 

When the two of you reached the dance floor, you turned back for the briefest instant—

just long enough to meet Taehyung’s heated gaze as his lips closed over the finger he buried in your cunt. 

Emotions were a funny thing. 

They impacted your judgement, affected your body, altered your behavior… 

And occasionally eroded your common sense. 

Sitting alone in the corner of the Governor’s ballroom, Kim Taehyung found himself experiencing a full spectrum of emotional side-effects. 

His hands clenched as he watched Min Yoongi spin you around the floor. 

His heart pounded every time he caught a flash of your shapely leg peeking through the slit in your gown. 

His blood boiled when you threw your head back and laughed at something the other man said. 

It was difficult to pinpoint which emotion was to blame for each of these reactions. There were certainly a number of them boiling over in his subconscious. 

Frustration—

I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!

Rage—  

Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now. 

Jealousy—

You asked her to dance while my fingers were in her pussy. We are not the same. 

But perhaps the most persistent—the most overwhelming— emotion twisting through him was longing. 

You and Taehyung spent nearly four years apart, and he was so desperate to be near you—even then—that he resorted to childish pranks in order to remain a part of your life. 

He hadn’t recognized his actions or desires for what they were. He hadn’t realized what you meant to him...

But now, after spending the last several days with your hand on his arm and your laughter in his ear, he could no longer imagine spending another moment without you. 

Everything seemed to crystallize as he watched you laughing and dancing in the arms of another man. 

Uncertainty became clear. Complications became simple. 

And when he saw Min Yoongi’s hand slide dangerously close to the perfect swell of your backside—

Emotion became action.

“Mind if I cut in?”

It wasn’t a question really. Taehyung was already shouldering his rival out of the way and pulling you into his arms. 

“Taehyung,” you hissed, shooting the bewildered Yoongi an apologetic look over his shoulder, “what are you doing? This is so rude—”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, sweeping you through the couples on the floor with practiced ease. “It is unpardonably rude to steal someone else’s date. He’s lucky all I did was steal you back.”

Your mouth dropped open. 

“Oh? So you finally remembered that I was your date?”

Taehyung’s grip on the curve of your waist became a shade rougher as he pulled you through the next turn. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” you stepped forward vigorously, nearly smashing your body into his, “—that you spent forty-five minutes with Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine when you were supposed to be having dinner with me!”

Taehyung growled and yanked you flush against him. 

“I spent forty-five minutes looking for you while you were giving away my table to Min Yoongi!”

The two of you sailed through the next several movements glaring at one another before you snapped again. 

“None of this would have happened if you had just told Aubrey St. Spray Tan that you were with me—”

“I did!”

“Instead, you let her call me a baby!”

“What let? Aubrey is a grown woman!”

“But—”

“And—you stormed off before I could say anything, so how would you know what I let?”

“You didn’t come after me!”

“Yes actually I did—but she grabbed my arm!”

“Really? Well what else did she grab?”

Taehyung abruptly realized how silent everything around you had become. 

People were staring—and not even discreetly— just full on staring with their mouths hanging open. 

Well that’s great. 

Taehyung’s hand closed around yours and you suddenly found yourself being marched across the dance floor at a breakneck pace.

“What are you doing?”

“Continuing this discussion in private.”

“We can’t just go somewhere private in the Governor’s mansion!” you sputtered, struggling to keep up with his larger strides. 

“You mean in my uncle’s house? Yes—actually we can—and we will.”

Taehyung proved to be a man of his word, dragging you past two security guards and into the roped off section of the manor with nothing more than a nod. 

The residential wing of the Governor’s home was beautifully decorated with traditional Korean artistic touches—all of which you were unable to appreciate while Taehyung was speed walking you through the halls. 

After a surprising amount of turns and archways, he yanked open an ornate wooden door with the words Reflection Suite written on a plaque above it in beautiful calligraphy. 

You almost giggled when you got a look inside. 

On the surface it was a tastefully furnished guest room with a simple cherry wood desk and a cozy double bed set in an elegant matching frame.

However—

The ceiling and one full wall were nothing but massive mirrors. 

Reflection suite indeed. 

The door slammed shut and Taehyung rounded on you with a stormy expression—though you weren’t waiting on him to fire the first volley.

“This is definitely going to get us in trouble.”

“I told you, I can go wherever I want in this house. It’s fine.”

“Then why did you take us here?”

“Because you were shouting—”

“I was shouting?! You were shouting I just—”

Suddenly your back was against the wall and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours. 

He hadn’t brought you here for this. When he grabbed your hand, he was only trying to get away from the crowds. He told himself that he needed privacy so you could talk—so he could clarify things. 

But the minute the door closed and you flared up again in all your magnificent rage, he was lost. 

He had to kiss you then. 

You were so lovely. So fierce. So wildly irresistible and he was too utterly smitten to fight the need to be near you—to be with you in every way that he could—for a single second more. 

The shock of Kim Taehyung pressing his lips to yours lasted about two full seconds—and then there was nothing but ravenous insatiable need. 

Finally. 

Everything was him. 

Everything was this—this sweet indescribable ignition of a desire that spanned years. You moaned eagerly against his mouth in wanton delight. After a decade of sparks, you were more than ready to burn. 

“Taehyung—”

His name poured out of you like a prayer. You needed him everywhere and miraculously he seemed to understand—

Not that he was prepared to be polite about it. 

“Where’s that smart mouth now, Angel?” he growled, tangling his hands in your hair to expose the tender column of your throat. “Nothing to say?”

Your only answer was a desperate whine as he spread hot-open mouthed kisses down the soft skin of your neck all the way to your collarbone.

Now was not the time for patience. He would be tender with you later. You absolutely deserved soft sweet caresses and slow leisurely love making and he was absolutely going to give them to you—every day if you’d let him. 

But not today. 

The minute his mouth encountered the barrier of your dress, he gripped onto the sides and yanked it down to your waist.

“You knew just what you were doing in the back of that limo, you little brat,” he hissed, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue.

“Tae-ahhh!” Your back arched involuntarily in ruthless pleasure. 

“I spent hours—days even—wanting to get my hands on these perfect tits.” He licked the other nipple obscenely, squeezing the soft mound till it bulged through his fingers. “And you offered me the barest taste with that coy little grin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough—” 

He reared back and landed a firm slap on both breasts and you screamed.

It was so so good. 

“Look at them now,” he murmured, “so swollen and needy and mine.”

If any other man had said those words, you would have cut his heart out with a butter knife. 

But you had always belonged to this man body and soul, and to hear him acknowledge it so primitively felt like the sweetest vindication. 

“Yes!” you sobbed.

The affirmation only inflamed him further. He teased and fondled the tender flesh till you were shaking.

Your fingers curled into the soft waves of his hair as he indulged himself. He looked so ridiculously good sucking your nipple, moaning lewdly with his eyes pressed shut in cathartic bliss. 

“This is all your fault, Angel,” he groaned. “You just don’t know how to behave.”

His hands gripped the curve of your backside, lifting you right off the floor and into his arms. Your mouths fused together heatedly as he carried you to the bed, and you giggled against him when his words finally processed. 

“You’ve been saying that for years.” 

“It’s been true for years,” he muttered, pulling one of your legs up around him so he could grind against your cunt while you kissed. 

Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tearing them off when they didn’t unhook fast enough. You waited too long to be with him like this to care about anything other than the feel of his skin against your own.

“Impatient, are we?” he chuckled, bringing his lips around to nip at your ear. 

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, yanking the ruined garment right off his shoulder just so you could sink your teeth into it. 

Taehyung moaned loudly, snapping his hips against yours with an involuntary jerk.

“You really are such a brat,” he hissed, fisting his hands in the satin length of your skirt. “Let’s see how fierce you are with my tongue in your pussy—”

His words were so filthy and raw, yet they stoked a frenzied need in your belly like nothing you had ever encountered. 

“This dress is evil,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before switching to a more destructive tactic. “It has tormented me all night and now it’s in my way.”

The stitching proved no match for his resolve, and—after a few vigorous tugs—he ripped it apart from the slit on up, leaving you covered in nothing but the thin cotton underwear he had breached earlier that evening. 

After disposing of your shredded gown, Taehyung paused for a moment just to take in the sight of you. 

“What a perfect little angel,” he taunted playfully, snapping the band of your lingerie against your hips with a cocky grin. 

Then he brushed his nose right up against the sopping fabric and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like heaven,” he growled before licking you right through the cloth, “and you taste even better.”

The sensations twisting through your body were merciless. You needed more or you were going to shake apart. 

“Taehyung please,” you whined, pressing against him shamelessly.

“Oh a please?” he chuckled, throwing your own words from the first night back at you. “Who knew you had manners?”

You would have screamed in frustration, but he cut you off with an open mouthed kiss right over the wettest part of your panties.

“Perhaps I can make a good girl of you yet,” he chuckled, as you opened yourself wider to encourage him. 

You nodded frantically, letting out another moan when he yanked the flimsy little scrap of lace down your legs—smearing a line of arousal over your thighs.

“So messy,” he tsked, tapping his finger right above your knee where the naughty little streak ended. “What am I going to do with you?” 

Then he pressed his tongue over the shiny trail of slick and licked it right off. 

You gasped loudly and his lascivious smirk was almost beautiful enough to make up for all of the shameless teasing. 

Almost. 

"You want my mouth, pretty Angel?” he whispered, letting the words brush maddeningly against your folds. “You want me to feed on this sweet little cunt?”

Every cell in your body cried out for release. He already edged you under the table at dinner and now he was determined to unravel you entirely. You would say anything—do anything. 

"Please—" you whispered.

"Please who?" 

Normally you met his arrogance with a cutting riposte, but an entire evening of methodical torment had left you beyond desperate. 

"Please Taehyung,” you begged needily. 

He grinned. 

“That’s right, Angel. Kim Taehyung. Not Min Yoongi or any other pathetic trust fund prick that’s panting for a taste of this pussy.” His eyes fastened on yours significantly. “You belong to me.”

Then his tongue licked a flat stripe over your glistening slit and you sagged onto the bed in relief—only to be thrown back into oblivion when his lips closed over your clit. 

Your body arched involuntarily as a ruthless wave of pleasure tore through you. Your eyes and mouth flew open in a silent scream and it was in that moment you remembered exactly where you were. 

Underneath a giant mirror. 

The passionate woman staring down at you was nearly unrecognizable. Her body was littered with her lover’s marks. Her hands gripped feverishly into the sheets beneath her—-

And Kim Taehyung was kneeling between her thighs, suckling on her weeping cunt with obscene satisfaction. 

It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your life. 

Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair, using it for leverage as you ground against his face. 

Then suddenly his grip on your legs tightened and his tongue plunged roughly into your trembling core. 

“Tae—ahh oh my—I can’t—”

The sensation was so intense that your hips bucked violently. You could not keep still. You were charging towards an explosion and your body was shaking itself apart. 

The noises tearing from you were incoherent. Everything around you focused in on the juncture of your thighs where Taehyung was licking inside of you again and again until—

You shattered. 

And the force of it nearly bent your back in half. 

Delirious sobs poured from your lips as he worked you through it, letting the obscene flood of your cum soak his face. 

The sight of him slowly lapping at the release between your folds, was unspeakably erotic. He ran his hands in soothing circles over your skin while you twitched and fluttered back down from your high. 

Then he was kissing you again. 

It was softer this time, but you felt truly depraved—and instantly obsessed—with the taste of yourself in his mouth—on his skin.

You could barely understand this ravenous hunger. You’d just found relief, yet you were already reaching for more. 

Your hands snaked down and wrapped around his still covered cock and he hissed in ragged pleasure. 

“So eager,” he gasped, as you pushed him back against the headboard—but you didn’t have time to bother with his teasing.

You were gonna blow Kim Taehyung into space. 

He bit his lip when you yanked down his pants and boxers together, freeing his arousal with stunning efficiency. 

It was almost unfair to discover that his cock was every bit as beautiful as he was.

“Of course,” you muttered. 

The sultry smirk he shot you in return had your cunt flooding all over again.

“You think Min Yoongi has a cock like mine?”

“I don’t think about Min Yoongi’s cock,” you retorted, wrapping your hand around his length, “you’ve always been the biggest dick I’ve ever met.” 

“I knew you thought about my dick,” he groaned as you began to work up and down the swollen shaft. 

After a moment, his hand slid over your chin to grip your hair, drawing you forward till your lips were almost touching. 

“I wonder what this pretty mouth can do,” he whispered. 

You gasped against him and he smiled. 

“Do you know how often I pictured your lips around my cock, Angel?”

You mewled shamelessly and he growled, cupping your cheek as your hands continued to service him. 

“Do you know how often I imagined this perfect throat stuffed full of my cum?” 

His palm slid down to lightly grip the soft flesh of your neck and you shuddered against him with a needy whimper. 

“I know you could suck me so good, Angel. I’ve wanted it for so so long...”

Your mouth actually watered with anticipation. 

The desire to be good for him—to give him whatever he asked for—consumed you. 

Taehyung let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan at the first brush of your lips along his shaft. His hips rutted involuntarily as your tongue wrapped around the tip and you hummed with pleasure at his enthusiastic response. 

After a moment you slid him into the welcoming heat of your mouth, taking him in as far as you could in one stroke. His jaw dropped open and his entire body jerked forward. 

“Yes, that’s it, Angel—feels so good.”

His praise was addictive. 

You loved that you could bring him to this. You loved to see the haughty Kim Taehyung coming apart as you sucked him. 

It made you feel beautiful—powerful even—and you reveled in every second of it. 

Your eyes were starting to tear. His length began to throb and pulse against your tongue and you knew he was close—so close you could almost taste him—

Yet suddenly he was pulling you back and you whined pitifully at the loss. 

Taehyung chuckled, dragging you toward him till your dripping core slid across his cock.

“I’m not coming before I get inside that pretty little pussy,” he swore, working your hips over his sex till it was drenched in arousal. 

The crass words filled you with the fiercest, most incredible want and you clenched reflexively against him in response. 

“Is that what you want?” Taehyung whispered as he bore you back into the mattress, pinning both your wrists above your head. “You want me to fill your empty little cunt?”

You did. 

You wanted it so so bad. 

“Please.”

Taehyung gently lowered himself closer to you, resting his forehead intimately against yours as he lined up his cock at your entrance. 

“Are you sure, Angel? Because there’s no going back after this... If you give yourself to me, then you’re mine—and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”

“Taehyung, you idiot,”—a tender smile spread over your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck—“... I’ve always been yours.”

He swore violently—letting the slight tremble in his voice betray just how deeply your words affected him. 

Then his fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your hip and he filled you to the hilt with one delicious thrust. 

There was a moment—the smallest space in time—where your eyes locked together and everything seemed to suspend; a strange perfect calm before a monumental storm. 

Then your world caught fire. 

Taehyung drove himself into you with passionate fury, letting years of denial fuel the insatiable rhythm of his strokes. 

Every time he told himself no. Every time he held himself back—

Every bit of it burned away as you screamed his name. 

The feel of him was indescribable. 

You imagined it too many times to count, yet your dreams fell pitifully short of the visceral reality. 

He was bloomin’ magnificent. 

Your fingers clawed up and down his back, desperate to hold on to something while he pounded into your g-spot like an animal. 

“This tiny cunt is the tightest thing I’ve ever had around my cock,” he gasped and you whined needily at his praise. “Like it was made for me—” his hand came up to grip your breast, “like you were made for me.”

“Yes—”

Taehyung’s need seemed to amplify with every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. The feelings you sparked in him were fierce and unapologetically primitive.

He would go to war for you—build a fortress for you—fight a dragon if one dared come close. 

You were his. 

And he felt like a savage every time you cried out for more. 

Suddenly an unexpected movement in his periphery caught his attention.

He’d been so consumed with the extraordinary rush of claiming you that he’d forgotten—

This guest room was thirty-five percent mirrors. 

And now… he couldn’t look away. 

The sight of your bodies tangling together in headless bliss played out before him like a scene from his most debauched and forbidden fantasies. His reflection grinned back at him in fascinated ecstasy while his beloved nemesis lost herself in the pleasure of his cock.

Something dark and wild began to burn in his chest as he studied the lovers in the glass. 

“Look at you, Angel,” he whispered softly, “you really are perfect.”

Then he pulled out of your core and you whined bitterly in protest, chasing his body to rid yourself of the sudden unacceptable emptiness. 

“Still so needy,” he taunted, gripping your hips and flipping you on your stomach before you could even think to protest.

“I want you to watch that pretty angel in the mirror come on my cock,” he groaned, plunging back into you from behind. 

The new angle was somehow impossibly deeper and your body shook as another wave of pleasure overtook it. 

Your fingers clawed into the mattress for purchase as he pistoned into your trembling mound. 

Only Kim Taehyung could rail you like a whore while he worshiped you like a queen. 

He gave you a moment to adjust before drawing your body back against his chest. His arm wrapped over your stomach as he slowly eased your legs apart, unfolding the lewd tableau of your bodies joined together for the voyeuristic gaze of the glass.   

“Look at yourself, Angel,” he growled, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. “Look at how well you're taking me.” 

Then his fingers slid down to rub your clit and you screamed. 

“Tae! Ah-ahh!”

The pleasure building within you now was violent. You were coiling too tightly, too fast—

“That’s right Angel. Take it all.”

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror for the briefest instant.

And then you flew apart. 

Taehyung threw his head back with a carnal moan as you clamped down around him. His body was hurtling toward its own release with reckless speed. 

“I’m close,” he panted, “where can I come?”

“Come inside me please,” you begged, and Taehyung’s eyes widened in frenzied lust. 

“That’s what you want? Huh?” his thrusts became rougher as he chased his relief, “You want me to fill this puffy little pussy with my cum?”

“Yes, I want it so bad—“ you sobbed. 

“Sweet Angel,” he groaned, gripping at your breasts as he pulled you tighter against him. 

Then he met your gaze in the mirror again. 

“I want everything with you; a home—a family—your body in my arms every morning when I wake up—” his voice trembled, “I want it all.” 

The raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke you.

“Tae,” you gasped softly, too overcome with joy to manage anything else. 

His mouth pressed hungrily against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his cock throbbing in your core as he bent you forward, pounding into your sex with exquisite precision. 

"Stay with me, Angel,” he whispered. His thrusts became erratic as he neared his high. “I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

The glorious thrill of his words tore over your senses with euphoric brutality. Your walls tightened greedily around his cock and the taunt cord of pleasure finally snapped. 

He came with a broken groan, flooding the welcoming heat of your womb with his release. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG!”

The sound of his name being shouted by the absolute last person in the world whose voice he wanted to hear woke Taehyung from a dead sleep.  

His eyes widened in panic as he began yanking pillows and covers from all over the bed in a frenzied attempt to hide—

The doors to his bedroom flew open with a resounding crash. 

“Jimin,” he squeaked, trying to look as casual as possible next to a giant pile of bedding. “What uh—what brings you here at—” his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, “—7:30 in the morning?”

Then he frowned. 

“And how the hell did you get past Jungkook?”

Jimin’s murderous expression broke momentarily to allow for a smug grin. 

“Kendra.”

Kendra Jackson was Jimin’s executive aide. She was fierce, capable, intelligent—

And insanely gorgeous. 

Taehyung groaned. 

Poor Jungkookie never stood a chance. 

To the surprise of absolutely no one, yet another newspaper landed on Taehyung’s lap.

KIM HEIR BRINGS NAUGHTY ANGEL HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Underneath the headline was a picture of you and Taehyung (dressed in clothes you stole from Jin’s childhood bedroom) kissing passionately against the side entrance of the Governor’s mansion. 

One of your legs was wrapped around his waist and he was clearly grabbing your ass. 

“Ah… well you see the camera distorts everything from this angle—and-and the lighting is bad so it’s not really what it looks like—”

“Is that so? Cause it looks like you’ve got your tongue down my baby sister’s throat!”

“Okay—okay,” Taehyung massaged his forehead nervously, “so maybe it’s sort of what it looks like but—”

“I’ll kill you.”

“No wait—” he held up his hands to delay an already advancing Jimin. 

“Why should I wait?!”

“Because—”

“—I trusted you with the most important person in the world to me—”

“The situation is just not that simple.” 

“—and you grabbed her ass in public!”

“Admittedly not my finest hour.”

“So you tell me right now—”

“But you don’t understand it’s—”

“—Why the hell would I wait?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!”

For a moment there was absolute silence. 

Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding. 

“Really?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open. 

Taehyung groaned again. 

“As usual, your timing is impeccable.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment.

“Are you really in love with me?”

“Of course I’m in love with you! What part of I want you to have my children did you not understand?!” 

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jimin choked. 

“That’s not the same thing!”

“It is for me!”

A radiant smile lit up your face. 

“I’m in love with you too.”

Taehyung’s expression softened. 

“Angel I—”

Then you were kissing and Jimin swung around with a horrified shout.

“Oh! No no no—Come on!”

He stumbled out of the room, hands firmly clamped over his eyes. 

“This is not over, Kim Taehyung!” the scandalized young Park heir howled in exasperation… but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Back in the bedroom, Taehyung shook his head at Jimin’s ridiculous caterwauling. 

“No, it’s not over,” he laughed, pulling you deeper into the comfort of his arms. “It’s only just begun.”

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. 

This baby took FOR-EVER to write. I started it in November and literally worked on it a little every day. 

If you enjoyed it— even just a tiny bit—please consider taking a moment to leave me some feedback. It is so incredibly uplifting and rewarding to hear reader thoughts and reactions to my work.

I promise to treasure every word like gold. It took a lot to bring this story to life. Your kind words would mean the world to me.

#bts #kim taehyung #Kim Taehyung smut #kim taehyung oneshot #Kim Taehyung x reader #kim taehyung scenarios #bts smut #ficswithluv #bts v #kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #networkbangtan #armysource #heartsforbts #btswriterscollective #bangtanidx #magicshopnet #bts fan fiction #kim taehyung fanfiction #bts Christmas

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

ohh i saw your answer about the sequels of star wars. id love to read you tear through the whole trilogy

Well, I’ve avoided this ask long enough. Part of the reason is this is really a huge topic, far too much for one ask, so I’m going to have to do this at a very high level.

In short, the Star Wars Sequel Trilogy is what one gets when you slap together the goal of selling merchandise and making tons of money, being as risk averse as humanly possible, adding a handful of warring directors with incredibly different visions, and having virtually no imagination when it comes to the imagining and writing of characters.

And we get this beautiful, awful, franchise that for reasons beyond me people seem to actually like (though interestingly, no one seems to like all of it, they may actually like one or two of the films, but no one says all three are actually in any realm of good).

With that, let’s begin.

The Force Awakens

For me this is easily the most tolerable of the sequel trilogy: it’s not great, it’s not terrible. It’s thoroughly watchable, you can be taken along for the movie’s journey and not raise your eyebrows too much at the action and leave the theater feeling this maybe wasn’t a complete waste of your time.

There’s a good reason for that. That reason is called the most blatant form of plagiarism I have ever seen in cinema in my life.

“The Force Awakens” is just “A New Hope” wearing a mustache. Only, it’s one of those cheap mustaches you get from a party store that, if you stare at it too long, just looks like the most false and awful thing you’ve ever seen. The mustache actively makes it worse. “The Force Awakens” is “A New Hope”, but worse.

Seriously, every major character, every major plot point, every major scene I can go directly back to “A New Hope”.

Our story begins when the Resistance, at great cost to our valiant heroes including torture at the hands of the Emperor’s second in command, sends a file out into the wilderness to be received by his people. This file contains plans for the Death Star.

The film then focuses on Luke, er Rey, getting involved in the Resistance, boarding the Death Star, and successfully destroying at the same time even at the lost of a beloved mentor that she just met (trading in Obi-Wan for Han Solo). 

Our evil empire is run by an evil emperor who is so evil he sits in a chair, is served by very Moth Tarkin-esque human storm troopers, and has a second in command who revels in the Darth Vader get up (for no other reason that it makes him feel cool but we’ll get into this).

It’s “A New Hope”. Rey is Luke, Han Solo is Obi-Wan, Poe is a kind of Han Solo, Kylo Ren is Vader, Snoke is Palpatine, Hux is Tarkin, BB-8 is R2-D2, etc.

“But that’s not terrible,” you say, “I liked A New Hope?”

First, it is terrible, it gives a very bad sign of where the sequel trilogy is headed and is just lazy writing. It means that those who produced this franchise were so terrified of taking risks, of possibly ending up mocked as the prequels were, that they will deliver exactly what the original trilogy was. And what’s that? Uh, evil empires, scrappy desert kids, AND MORE DEATH STARS!

That brings us to point number two, the world of Star Wars after the events of the original trilogy shouldn’t support such things. And, if it does, my god what a bleak existence this place has turned into.

The First Order being able to rise easily from the Empire’s remains means that Luke accomplished nothing. Anakin sacrificed himself and had his moment of redemption for nothing. There was no happy ending to the Original Trilogy, our heroes failed miserably, and there is no indication that our new band of heroes can possibly succeed in their place. (More on this as the movies progress).

We now are in a galaxy where this new Republic is so pathetic that Leia doesn’t even give it the time of day and builds her own private army to battle the Empire. The First Order is able to not only rebuild a massive army by raiding villages on many different worlds and stealing children and do so successfully for at least ten years but is able to build a Death Star bigger than any we’ve ever seen before. 

And the movie tries to convince us these are completely new problems, that Luke Skywalker is a hero (remember this is TFA, not TLJ yet), and that somehow these things just sprung up out of nowhere. BUT YEAH, RESISTANCE, WOO!

As for Rey, she’s like... a worse version of Luke. Her only motivation through the entire series is her trauma at being abandoned by her parents. That’s it, there’s nothing else to her, nothing else she ever wants or feels conflicted by. She struggles with the dark side because... the dark side? Genetics? Unclear? She’s absurdly, ridiculously, powerful in a way that’s acknowledged but never that acknowledged (we’ll get into this) and the movies just fail to sell me on her in any way.

Honestly, an easy fix for me would have just been making Rey a much younger character. I could believe a fourteen-year-old having stayed in the desert, scrounging for scraps, believing her parents are coming back every day now. As a twenty-something year old... It starts getting hard to believe she never left. (Also, this gets the benefit of getting rid of Reylo, which is always a plus for me).

As for Kylo Ren, I legitimately walked out of TFA thinking he was supposed to be comic relief. He’s what happens when someone desperately wants a likable, redeemable, villain and we get... Well, as a reminder his opening scene is one of genocide: he pillages and destroys a town with no regret and brutally tortures a man for information. We’re told he’s like this “because evil evil Snoke” and that may well be but throughout the film (and the series) it becomes clear that Kylo Ren’s main motivation is he deseprately wants to be cool. He wants to be a badass like Vader, he dresses in Vader cosplay (either ignoring or not knowing that Vader only dressed like that because his body was completely destroyed), he has these huge temper tantrums and nobody respects him because he’s a toddler in a Vader suit. 

He murders his own father, his parents who (at least in the films themselves) show every willingness to take him back and forgive him what he’s done, so that he can fully embrace his own “evilness”. In other words, he commits patricide to feel cool about himself, then it doesn’t work. 

And the movie series really banks on me feeling conflicted about Kylo Ren or at least wanting him to be redeemed. Granted, the wider internet seems to love him, I just can’t.

Oh, before I forget, the other thing I love about Kylo Ren is that the movies insist he’s a) strong in the Force b) is equal to Rey. Rey consistently beats the shit out of him with 0 training. Kylo Ren has been training in the Force for years. Guys, they are not a Dyad, Rey is far far far stronger than he is and for whatever reason the films never want to admit it. Because I guess we like things coming in pairs now.

But yes, “The Force Awakens”, at a distance not great nor terrible, but a rip off of a movie we’ve already seen that left me going “Welp, the next one’s probably The Empire Strikes Back then I guess we’re getting Ewoks”. I was sort of right on that and sort of wrong.

The Last Jedi

So, JJ Abrams clearly had a vision of where he wanted this sequel trilogy to go. He set up these big questions such as what’s up with Finn, who are Rey’s parents and why was she left on this nowhere planet, will Kylo Ren be redeemed and how, who is Snoke, etc.

Now, I’m not saying these aren’t stupid questions. To be frank, they kind of are. Finn being Force Sensitive was the most inconsequential thing I’ve ever heard of, Rey’s parents should not have been used to drive the plot the way it was, as spoken above I’m clearly team gut Kylo Ren, and that Snoke was actually just Palpatine being the world’s largest cockroach is a beautiful but hilarious answer.

That said, what Johnson did was he decided, “You know what, I’m going to take every trope of Star Wars and completely flip it on its head and absolutely doom the sequel to this movie.”

And by god, he did.

We get a weirdly pointless movie in which Poe, SINGLEHANDEDLY, completely obliterates the Resistance. He first obliterates their bombers by failing to follow command, then goes and bitches about how he’s not put in command when he clearly shows no ability to understand how a military works, actively subverts orders which in turn obliterates the entire Resistance fleet until the only survivors can fit on the Millenium Falcon. They have no ships, no weapons, barely any people, and are ultimately doomed doomed doomed.

We have Finn’s weird subplot with a suddenly introduced character Rose in which the pair aid in Poe’s blowing up the resistance (they send sensitive information using the communication equipment of a guy they do not know, who fully admits to being shady and out for his own skin, and are flabergasted when he betrays them). 

Rose herself is this weirdly sweet person who seems forced into the plot to a) provide a love triangle for Finn and Rey b) provide this forced sunny outlook that I didn’t really need in the film.

We get Rey never really being trained, going into the Cave of Wonders for a few seconds, falling in love with Kylo Ren over weird Force Skype calls (where I did not need to see him shirtless, thank you film) and being horrifically betrayed when Kylo Ren turns out not to be a great guy. Never saw that coming, Rey. 

As for Kylo Ren, well... God, we get Emperor Kylo Ren. Kylo Ren, the Emperor. I’m not even that upset about the anticlimactic murder of Snoke (that was kind of funny, especially in the context of Palpatine going, “Bitch, please, you’re in my chair” immediately in the next film) but just Kylo Ren being emperor. And also that the Resistance only escapes at all because he’s so dumb he made their dumb plans seem smart (i.e. concentrates all his firepower on an illusion for ten minutes while Hux goes, “Emperor, sir, we could actually destroy the Resistance right now.”

Now, you’ll notice I didn’t complain about Luke. A lot of people are upset he became a grumpy, miserable, old hermit who sits around waiting for death. Frankly though, in this universe, that’s exactly where he is. He left “Return of the Jedi” thinking he’d saved the world, he’s resurrected the Jedi Order, and all is well. Only a decade later, his students are all murdered by his nephew, the Empire’s back, and he accomplished nothing. He’s an utter failure as a Jedi (though Luke never realizes he knew jack shit about the Jedi Order and was in way over his head but I guess that’s beyond him). Why shouldn’t he go sit on a rock and wait to die? 

Now, did he have to drink that blue dinosaur milk? Well, I guess it was funny, gross but funny so... Sure, I guess he did. But I do like that he gave Rey 0 training, they had one meditation session and then he whined about how Obi-Wan was such a stupid asshole. And then Rey ran off to be with her boyfriend, who then told her that her parents were gutter trash (which again, was funny, but I don’t think that was supposed to be funny).

Of the characters introduced in the movie, the only one I really liked was the hacker, and it was for the actor/the beautiful way in which he gracefully exited stage left with zero shame going, “You all knew I was going to betray you!” You beautiful man, you.

Rise of the Skywalker

First, when something is called “Rise of the Skywalker” you know you’re in for a rough time.

But anyways, TLJ was filled with a controversy Disney didn’t want (half their audience hated it, half loved it, but at least they sold those penguin dolls) so they desperately get Abrams back. Only, what he clearly wanted from his series has been shot to hell, and now he’s left with Emperor Kylo Ren, a completely obliterated Resistance, a dead Luke, a love interest he never planned to introduce for Finn, Rey’s parental crisis being solved with trash people, Snoke just suddenly dead, Hux planning revenge, and then some.

And so, Abrams goes the brave and hilarious route of shouting “PRETEND THAT LAST MOVIE NEVER HAPPENED”

We open to a fully functioning Resistance (their bomber fleet is back, their fleet period is back, they have all their fully trained personnel). We have Rey getting the Jedi training she needed this time from Leia, who is now a Jedi, because yay feminism rammed down my throat to make the audience feel better. Rose says “It’s cool guys, I don’t want to join the adventure this film, I’m going to stay here and work on robots” so that she can gracefully exit the entire plot. Kylo Ren is demoted from Emperor in two seconds when we discover that a) Snoke was apparently Palpatine b) for unexplained reasons Palpatine’s alive (and I am now convinced that man will never die). Kylo Ren tells Rey at the first opportunity that he lied about her trash parents AND REALLY SHE’S A PALPATINE! THIS WHOLE TIME, REY! THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT. I’M SUPER SERIAL THIS TIME, REY.

Basically, in the course of an overly long movie, Abrams desperately shoves in everything he was trying to get out of the series, while sobbing, and sobbing even harder when things like Finn being Force Sensitive or Lando having a secret daughter get caught. I actually agree with the Producers on this, by the way, the Finn trying to tell Rey something scenes were weird and indicative of a love triangle but him being Force Sensitive instead... It says a lot that the movies did not change when it was removed, at all. And Lando was just this strange cameo who was in the film to make us feel nostalgic.

And this isn’t even getting to the ridiculous 24 hour time limit (which made me think there should have been some video game style clock in the corner letting us know when Dawn of the Third Day is coming), Palpatine’s other secret army on a secret Sith planet that can be easily taken down by taking out one navigation tower, Rey’s hilarious struggle with the dark side in which she has a vision of herself in a cape hissing, Kylo Ren’s hilarious redemption in which the movie in the form of Leia and Han Solo says, “Alright, Ben, it’s time to stop being evil” and he says “okay”, the fight with Palpatine in which I’m supposed to believe he dies for reals because... I have no idea why I’m supposed to believe he’s dead. The Reylo, god the Reylo, and Kylo Ren’s tragic, hilarious, death.

And then, of course, the ending where Rey decides she’s a Skywalker now.

I actually did laugh all the way through “Rise of the Skywalker”, you can’t not, I mean it’s a hilariously awful movie. The only thing that might have made it more hilarious was if we actually did get those Ewoks.

TL;DR

They’re all bad movies, if you want more specifics than this, you’re just going to have to ask me questions.

#ask #anon #anti star wars sequels #anti rey #anti kylo ren #anti reylo #ah what beautiful awful movies #i look foward to the characters being shocked and appalled when yet another evil empire arises in five years #i look forward to them being even more shocked when palpatine's still not dead #that man will never die

[jalapeno-princess]

According To Him

CEO Mark X Reader

Genre: THE FLUFFIEST OF FLUFF I HAVE EVER WRITTEN (with some mentions of sex) (God how do I write about things I have never and probably will never experience I am so sad)

Word Count: 6.5K

Summary: Being in such a high position at one of the biggest tech companies in the country on top of attending college full time can be a lot to handle. You’ve never thought highly of yourself and there were days that you felt like giving up because the workload was too hard. You also were extremely insecure over every single thing about yourself. However, there is one person who makes you feel like the most beautiful, hard working and deserving person in the entire world--the CEO of the company you work at and the man of your dreams, Mark Tuan. 

A/N: (GUESS WHOSE BACK, BACK AGAIN IN LESS THAN A WEEK) IT’S ME WITH ANOTHER STORY but this time it’s adorable, endearing, full of love and laughter and everything I wish was going on in my life but no, I’m seconds away from a mental breakdown every single day. This is based off of Ariana Grande’s new song “POV” and honestly as soon as i heard the song I knew I had to write an imagine based on it it’s sooooo good I wish someone made me feel that way dude why can’t I have a boyfriend like Mark in this story (Or just Mark in general) Please enjoy! (And cry with me)

It's like you got superpowers Turn my minutes into hours You got more than 20/20, babe Made of glass, the way you see through me You know me better than I do Can't seem to keep nothin' from you How you touch my soul from the outside Permeate my ego and my pride

I wanna love me (ooh) The way that you love me (ooh) Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too I'd love to see me from your point of view I wanna trust me (trust me) The way that you trust me (trust me) Oh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view

“If we want to build stronger relationships with our hundreds of clients in order to get them to prolong their contracts with us, I suggest that we increase the amount of stocks that we invest in to each of their companies and find more sponsors to help get the attention of the public—maybe we could start putting ads on television or on the radio?” 

If there was anything you hated about your job, it was public speaking. For someone who graduated with her master’s degree in communications with double minors in criminal justice and journalism, one would think you were great when having to speak to a large group of people—but no. Your entire body along with your voice was shaking profusely and you felt as if you were about to throw up. If it wasn’t for the devastatingly handsome man whose been sneaking cheeky winks and a few grins in your direction here and there in order to calm your racing heart, then you would have blew the entire thing. 

“I think that’s a wonderful idea y/n. A lot of people listen to the radio nowadays and television can get the attention of those who don’t drive or use cars as transportation. What does everyone else think?” 

If Mark wasn’t there, you were sure your heart would have jumped out of your chest. He actually wasn’t supposed to be there; he had a couple of meetings he had scheduled months beforehand, but when he found out that the members of the board were having a meeting and you were expected to be involved in it while presenting your ideas on how the company you were currently working for could expand throughout the United States and maybe even outside of the country, he cancelled every single meeting with the intention of giving you moral support. 

No matter how much you tried to reject his offer, not wanting to get in the way of his other responsibilities—you’d be lying if you said you weren’t extremely happy that he was there. His presence was undoubtedly calming; no matter wherever the two of you were, whether it was a board meeting, a company dinner or more relaxing and romantic places like the beach or on vacation in Europe, Mark could always bring you serenity. 

You looked around hesitantly in attempts to prevent Mark from seeing the blush he caused rise upon your cheeks from gazing at you and because you were genuinely curious about what your colleagues had to say about your brainstorm. When you saw a hand raise—particularly by a specific someone you weren’t all too fond of in your workplace, you wanted to let out a disgusted groan, but you refused to stoop to her level nor did you want any of your coworkers thinking you were rude. 

“Don’t get me wrong, that is a decent idea—but I know there are other things we can do that would better benefit the company without having to waste money on unnecessary ad sales. With all due respect sir, I don’t think it’s fair for you to show favoritism towards y/n just because she’s your girlfriend.” 

If you weren’t surrounded by fifteen other people, you were sure you would have leaped across of the table and socked her in the face. There were at least 1,000 people employed at the company you were working at and although you haven’t met every single person, you genuinely liked all the employees you did get the chance to get introduced to. However, there was only one person in particular that you honestly could do without and she just so happened to feel the need to speak up against you because she loved making you look stupid—especially in front of Mark. 

From the day you met her, Megan never seemed to care about you even if you were nothing but nice and friendly to her. You didn’t care though—you were there to work, not to worry about someone who dislikes you. But you didn’t do anything wrong for her to treat you as if you were scum of the earth. Every time you would walk past her desk, she would glare at you and during meetings like these that unfortunately she had to attend, she would always plot against you. 

You overheard a conversation between two colleagues in the bathroom one day about how Megan felt as though Mark might have taken a liking to her and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Your boyfriend had no clue about the way she treated you so rudely; you didn’t like starting unnecessary drama, but you were sure he caught on to her hostility—she wasn’t very vague about it. 

As the days went on though, you only grew more and more irritated with her and it was getting harder for you to bite back your tongue and prevent yourself from saying how you truly felt about her. It didn’t matter that your boyfriend just so happened to be the CEO of the tech company you’ve been working at for almost three years now; if you were to physically attack someone or instigate a fist fight, there was nothing he could do if she were to press charges—well other than bail you out—but that wouldn’t look too good for him as one of the youngest and most successful CEOs in the country. 

Your boyfriend Mark just so happened to take over his father’s company right after the elder man decided to retire just a year after you began working there. You were an intern at the company for a couple of months before Mark’s dad offered you a permanent job; stating that you were one of the best interns he’s ever had—that you were extremely responsible, hard working, dedicated to your craft, passionate about your education and just an all around kind of person. 

The Tuan family’s company was a very fast paced working environment. Nine hours would pass by faster than you could even comprehend only because you were constantly doing something. You’d be lying if you said your life didn’t get stressful every now and then—managing both college and a full-time job wasn’t the easiest thing to do; especially since you were a double major. But you did your best to stay on top of school and work. You were introduced to Mark one day by his father when he told you that he wanted the two of you to work together in order to build a healthy work relationship seeing as how he wanted you to be his son’s go to person. 

Mr.Tuan trusted you the most out of every single person working at his company; so it was only natural for him to want you to show his son the same support that you’ve shown him. 

Mark was nothing short of a gentleman when you first met him—he never used his position or the fact that he was the heir to the company to get what he wanted or to intimidate anyone of the employees in anyway. In fact, sometimes you’d forget that his family owned the company and that he was supposed to take over his dad’s position seeing as how he blended in so well with everyone else. He allowed you to show him the ropes; even if his father was the CEO and this company has been in his family for over four generations, he himself has never really been involved in what went on at the company. 

His parents wanted him to enjoy his life and do whatever it was that he wanted to do before having him take on such an important and tiresome role. Mark was such an amazing listener and he seemed to be very eager to learn. He complimented you on how dedicated and how hard working you were and he was very grateful that his dad had someone working for him who cared for the success of their company as much as he did. 

There was a point where you spent almost every minute that you were at work with Mark and you honestly weren’t complaining. You loved his presence and enjoyed how happy he made you. Although he wasn’t a man of many words, his actions spoke for him. He’d open every single door for you, pulled out your chairs, carried the things you would need for meetings, held your bag as you paid for coffee—hell, he even started to take over every bill that you had whether it was for food, drinks or just your necessities. 

At first, you assumed that he was only being nice as a way to no verbally thank you for helping him out—but with the way he would look at you with a certain glint and sparkle in his eyes, and the way he would try and touch you every now and then, whether it was bringing back some of your hair behind your ear, pulling you on the inside as the two of you walked on the sidewalk or playfully poking your cheek if he noticed you falling asleep from how exhausted you were, people didn’t do that to just anybody. 

It was obvious he felt comfortable around you and you knew it was a stretch to feel this way, but you were secretly hoping that he saw you as more than just a colleague. You knew you were screwed from the moment he was assigned to work under you—Mark had to be the handsomest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. He had the most well-defined features; the prettiest brown eyes, a sharp and pointy nose, prominent cheek bones and the softest, heart shaped lips. 

You’d find yourself staring at his lips during meetings or when the two of you would get lunch together and you always wondered what it would be like to feel them against yours. Only after a month, your partnership with Mark grew more flirtatious. He would always playfully tease you and make jokes in attempts to make you laugh when he could tell you were stressed; he also complemented you every single day about how beautiful he thought you were and how your laugh had to be the prettiest and most contagious sound in the world. You’d observe the way he would act around the other employees to see if the way he interacted with you was just him being friendly—but he hardly ever talked to anyone else unless he had to for business purposes.

It made you feel special in a sense that maybe—just maybe Mark had developed some kind of romantic feelings for you as you quickly did with him. One night, Mark took you out to dinner as a way to thank you for all you’ve done for him so far and the night went along perfectly. Conversation flowed so easily between the two of you and you found out that you had so much in common with the older boy. Your sense of humors were the exact same and you both were very generous when it came to helping out the less fortunate. 

You didn’t think much of him offering to drop you home, you just assumed he wanted to make sure you made it in to your apartment safely. Once the two of you pulled up to your complex, he insisted on walking you to your door. You didn’t really expect anything once you were to reach the front door—you planned on thanking him for such an amazing night and for taking you home. 

To your surprise, he tugged on your wrist and pulled you in to his chest before connecting your lips together in a sweet kiss. His lips were so soft and tasted like bubblegum—he lowered his hands to your waist while licking on your bottom lip, ultimately bringing it in between his teeth. The two of you made out for a couple of minutes until Mark abruptly pulled away. Right as you were about to whine at the loss of his lips against yours, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and giggled softly. 

“I like you y/n—a lot more than I’d like to admit actually. If I’m being honest, I think it might be more than that. I’ve liked you from the minute my dad had me shadow you and if I’m being honest, I kind of hinted towards wanting to be partnered up with you because I witnessed how amazing your work ethic is and I’ve admired how intelligent and talented you are. I think my dad talks more highly about you than he does me and I can see why—you’re wonderful y/n. These last few weeks with you has been some of the best moments of my entire life. You make me so happy. I would have never thought that I would actually enjoy going to work as much as I do and it’s specifically because I want to see you. Would you—um—maybe want to be my girlfriend? I totally understand if you don’t want to and please don’t feel as if you have to reciprocate my same feelings because I’m going to be your boss or because you feel bad—“ 

You didn’t allow him to say anything else before you roughly smashed your lips back up against his. Now that you knew how it felt like to kiss him—something you’ve been dreaming about for quite some time now, you would never get enough of having his lips meld perfectly in unison with yours. 

“I like you too Mark. You don’t understand how happy I am—I’m sure you’ve caught me stealing glances at you every now and then. I would doze off sometimes and dream about what it would be like to be the lucky girl who gets to love you and be loved by you. I would love to be your girlfriend. If you don’t have to go yet, did you maybe want to uh—come inside for some coffee?” 

He beamed at you and nodded in excitement—it didn’t take a genius to know that coffee was not at all going to be involved in the nights festivities and he couldn’t care less. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t dreamt about being intimate with you and getting to see you naked and bare—writhing underneath him while begging him to do anything to soothe the fire building inside of you. It’s happened on many occasions and he isn’t embarrassed to say a lot of his wet dreams were caused by you. As soon as you both made your way inside, he pressed you up against the door and began leaving sloppy kisses on the expanse of your neck and chest while whispering sweet nothings against your jaw. 

That entire night was spent relishing in your newfound relationship in your bed, in the shower, on the counter and up against your fridge. From that night on, the two of you were inseparable—it wasn’t much of a change from your usual time spent together other than him being even more clingy and touchier now that the two of you were a couple. Plus, you got to see him on the weekends which was a bonus—even if you spent almost ten hours a day every single day with him, it was never enough. 

Both you and your boyfriend decided to keep your relationship a secret from everyone at the company to prevent people from talking negatively of you or assuming that you were only dating Mark for beneficial reasons which was far from the truth. You didn’t think it was possible for Mark to be an even more amazing boyfriend than he was a business partner, but he proved you wrong entirely. He was so shy and soft whenever it came to you. 

Although he practically hovered over your tiny frame, the older boy would follow you around like a lost puppy. He would show up to your apartment every morning and take you with him to work so you didn’t have to worry about transportation. He would also wait until you were finished with work if he just so happened to end earlier that you did in order to take you home. If Mark was anything, it was extremely observant. 

It took him less than a week to learn your coffee order, he’d purchase all kinds of things for you while he’d go grocery shopping, he would buy you bags and clothes that he thought would look amazing on you, he would write you cute little post it notes and stick it all around your desk and if you were to catch a cold or if you weren’t feeling all too well, he’d take off from work in order to help nurse you back to health—in more ways than one. You never thought you would ever be able to experience the love Mark was giving to you. 

You’ve only ever been in two actual relationships before him. Other than that, you were the type of person who enjoyed to fool around. Whenever you and your friends would go out to clubs and bars, you’d find yourself getting drunk and taking someone home whose name you’d never got around to learning. If you were being honest, you never thought you would ever be in a long term relationship before. 

Your parents divorced when you were only two years old and it seemed like most of the adults you were surrounded with just so happened to be divorced also. Love was a foreign word to you—you never believed love could exist. Everything you’ve seen in movies was fake; all these shows and books about men who would give their lives for their significant others, you thought it was complete and utter bullshit. You ended up breaking up with both your boyfriends because you were afraid of getting your heart broken. 

It wasn’t like either of them really made you feel loved or genuinely cared for in the first place, so breaking up with them didn’t hurt as much as you expected to. That all changed the minute you found yourself falling in love with Mark. Time and time again, you told yourself you would never allow yourself to make such a stupid mistake—nor did you want to give your heart, mind, spirit and just yourself entirely  away to someone who would only break your heart and leave you like it is the easiest thing do to. 

For years, you’ve put up this barrier around your heart and kept every single person out of it. However, you didn’t know how he did it—but Mark knock down your walls and made you want to fall in love with him. Even before you really got to know him and how he was as a person, you know you could trust him. You wanted to give yourself a chance at love; it’s what you deserved. You couldn’t keep running away from something so good—or someone who obviously loved you more than life itself just because you didn’t want them to hurt you. 

The way he took care of you—even if you weren’t necessarily aware of it; the way he looked at you with so much adoration and happiness, the way he would talk so highly about you to everyone he surrounded himself with made it all the more clear that you must have meant a lot to Mark and you weren’t going to let anything or anyone for that matter get in the way of experiencing what true love felt like. Not once in your relationship with Mark did you ever have to worry about getting hurt—you knew that man loved you with his entire being. He never failed to show you or tell you every single day and sometimes you had a hard time accepting that someone could love you so much in the way Mark evidently did. 

Mark Tuan had to be the best thing that has ever happened to you and you were never going to take him for granted. He was the man you knew you wanted so badly to spend the rest of your life with—there was nobody in this world that you loved or could ever love more than you did with him. He captivated your heart in ways you didn’t believe was possible. Honestly, there were times where you felt as though he deserved better. 

You didn’t think all that highly of yourself; sure you had a pretty high position at his company for someone who was only 21-years-old and you were obviously well educated, but you weren’t very sociable nor did you think you were as street smart as you were book smart. You also never considered yourself to be attractive; you’d stare at yourself in the mirror ever now and then and picked out a lot of your features that you didn’t like about yourself.  

There were days that you thought everything about you was ugly; your teeth were crooked, your eyebrows were bushy, you had chubby cheeks, you were on the more curvy side—you had thick thighs, decent sized breasts and your butt was on the bigger side, but you also had big hips and your stomach wasn’t as flat as you wish it would be. On many occasions, you found yourself growing jealous of a few of the employees at the company because a lot of them were so pretty and had petite, dainty bodies. 

No matter how many times your boyfriend would remind you on a daily basis that he thought your body was so beautiful and that he was completely obsessed with each and every curve, beauty mark and birth mark scattered along your skin, your insecurities never failed to get the best of you and you’d always tell yourself that he probably wanted someone with the body of a model. However, you would observe Mark just as much as he did with you; he never batted an eye at any other girl—even when he talked to one of your colleagues, he seemed so disinterested and it made your heart flutter. 

You wanted nothing more than to be content with the fact that your boyfriend only had eyes for you, but it was only natural for you to feel as though you weren’t good enough for him. There was an insult on the tip of your tongue; you wanted to ask her what she had in mind and hoped that it was worse than your idea so she would look like a complete dumbass, but luckily—Mark beat you to it. 

“Decent? I think you mean brilliant—and no Megan, I do not allow my personal affairs to conflict with my work ethic. I genuinely like y/n’s idea and I would support her even if we weren’t dating. Do you have any better ideas?” 

You didn’t have to confess anything out loud; Mark could read your body language like it was a picture book. He knew you better than he knew himself and even better than you knew yourself. With the way you tightened your fists and clenched your jaw, he knew you were seconds away from reaching across the table and pulling on Megan’s hair and if he was telling the truth—he was all for it. Your boyfriend knew all about your ill-relationship with the older girl—he wasn’t blind. Your mood was always quick to change from excited and bubbly to quiet and visibly annoyed whenever she came around. 

He wasn’t the kind of person to press you for information if you didn’t want to flat out tell him yourself. He did wish you would tell him though; he wanted to know everything that was bothering you or things that made you upset—if there was anything Mark loathed, it was seeing you sad. His sole purpose was to make sure you were constantly happy, healthy and living the best life possible. 

As a CEO, he couldn’t fire her for the reason that she was tormenting you; there was no evidence. But as your boyfriend, he could use his title against her and he always used that to his advantage—to protect you. You had to bite your lip to prevent yourself from laughing at the sight of her now defeated demeanor. 

“No sir.” Mark sent you a cheeky wink before clapping his hands together and getting up from his seat. 

“What does everyone else think about the radio station and television commercial ad idea?” Everyone around you nodded their heads in agreement and some even gave your boyfriend a thumbs up—you weren’t one to boast nor did you particularly find contentment in proving others wrong unless they deserved it and Megan definitely deserved the shade your boyfriend gave her. 

“Good, then it’s settled. If anyone has any better ideas—then feel free to bring it to the next meeting. But until then, we’ll go along with what y/n pitched and take it from there. I have some phone calls I have to make, so I’ll be taking my leave. Good job everyone.” Mark bowed to the entire table and quickly made his way towards the door but not before walking over to you and gently squeezing your shoulder. 

“No rush, but can you come to my office once you wrap things up here? I want to talk more about your idea.” 

You nodded in agreement even if you knew that you and your boyfriend would only briefly go over what was brought up in the meeting before doing something you both shouldn’t do in a work environment. The meeting only lasted for a couple of minutes after Mark had left—all the employees in attendance were extremely supportive of what you came up with and you couldn’t have been more thrilled and grateful with their responses. 

Right after you adjourned the meeting, you made a beeline for Mark’s office; not wanting anyone—specifically Megan to keep you from your boyfriend any longer. When you noticed her approaching, you quickened your pace and made sure she was no longer tailing you once you reached Mark’s door. You knocked gently and waited patiently for him to invite you in and as soon as he called out for you to enter, you made your way inside and gave him no time to process your movements before flopping on to his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. A soft giggle fell from his lips as he brought his hands down to your waist and held you tightly against his body. 

“You’re amazing and I love you. Thank you baby.” His laughter filled the room—going straight to your chest and making warmth rise upon your cheeks. For someone who was only three years away from turning thirty, he had the most adorable, high pitched laugh that you knew could light up any room he was in. 

“You’re the one whose amazing and I meant what I said—your idea is brilliant. Almost as brilliant as you my love. You never cease to amaze me. Did you see the look on Megan’s face when I indirectly called her out? That shit was priceless I wish I got it on camera. By the way—why didn’t you tell me about how she acts towards you earlier? I’m not stupid y/n, I know there must be some kind of animosity between the two of you and I know you’re not the cause of it. You know you can trust me with these things. What else does she do to you? Nobody treats my baby so unfairly and can expect me not to do anything about it.” 

You brought your hand up to his cheek and cupped it ever so gently before placing a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. He smiled softly against your lips and stole a couple more kisses before leaning back in his chair in order to get a better look at you. 

“I didn’t want to bother you with something I can handle on my own. I’m a big girl Mark and I don’t let shit like that bother me. I don’t know why she acts like this, I didn’t do anything to her—and I don’t want everyone here to think that I’m not capable of fighting my own battles and that I have to have my boyfriend use his power to fight them for me. I’m sure a lot of employees gossip to each other about our relationship—“

“Who cares what anyone says? Our relationship is nobody’s business but our own. I just—I’m sorry, hearing her try to make you seem so small—so incapable of great things pissed me the fuck off. You’re the hardest worker we have in this entire company and I’m not just saying that because you’re the love of my life. I’m saying it because I’ve watched you work your ass off for the last four years taking on overtime, flying all around the world to meet with and make business with all these important companies, staying up all night to study for exams only to come in the next morning like you weren’t exhausted at all. You are an ethereal being baby. You’re otherworldly and I just can’t stop looking at you in astonishment. I hope you know Megan and every other girl who acts that way towards you is just jealous of you and I don’t blame them. I mean, just look at you.” 

The tears were hot as they built up at the brim of your eyelids. This happened almost every single day. Mark had a habit of going in to detail about the love he had for you and how wonderful he thought you were and you were never prepared to hear his complements and sweet words. 

“I don’t know what they would be jealous about Mark. Like you said, look at me—“

“I am looking at you. I can’t seem to stop looking at you. All I ever want to do for the rest of my life is look at you and admire you for the extraordinary human being that you are. You are the most beautiful girl in the world, I’m being completely honest y/n. You are so fucking gorgeous, I can’t even form your beauty in to words. You’re honestly God’s favorite and definitely mine. I hate that you think so negatively about yourself when I think the world of you. I know there’s no such thing as a perfect person but damnit y/n, you come very close. I really don’t know what I did to deserve you—and yes, I know what you’re thinking and you can just get rid of the thought that you’re not good enough for me out of your mind completely. Y/n, you are the best thing to ever happen to me—I mean that wholeheartedly. All my life, I felt as though something was missing but I could never put my finger on it. When I met you, everything changed and it just clicked. You were my missing puzzle piece—you’ve brought so much love and light in to my life and I’m forever thankful for being blessed with you to be my person.” 

You allowed the tears to fall from your eyelids and a small sob left your throat leading Mark to laugh against your jaw while bringing you closer to his chest. He began to run his fingers through your hair and left a few gentle kisses all around your face. 

“God Mark, I don’t know what I did to deserve you but I would do it again and again—I would lead and fight an entire world war if it meant getting to be the person you love in each and every single lifetime. I can’t even—I know I tell you that I love you every single day but I can’t help to feel as though it’s not enough. I wish there was more I could say or do to show you just how much I truly, deeply and irrevocably love you, how you mean the entire world to me and how I would be completely nothing without you. I wish I could see myself the way you see me—from your point of view. I want to trust and believe in myself the way you do. I wish I could love myself, the way you love me. I’m trying to learn to love myself because I know you worry about me and I don’t want you to anymore. I want to make you proud Mark—“

“You do make me proud y/n—every single day. I know you want to keep us a secret for reasons I have yet to understand—I’m sure now it has to do with people like Megan, but you shouldn’t care about what anyone thinks about you other than yourself and me. I think you’re the most astounding person I have ever met. It’s okay if you never learn to love yourself baby—I love you enough for the both of us and I will spend the rest of my life reminding you just how much of a wonderful, amazing, beautiful both on the inside and out and extremely sexy woman you are.” 

He stole a few sloppy kisses from the corner of your mouth and began grazing your cheek feather lightly.

“You don’t have to do anything more to prove your love for me, I feel it in my heart. You’re the reason it beats by the way. You keep my blood rushing and my veins pumping. I would give up anything and everything—this job, my family, my friends, hell I would even give up my PlayStation 5 for you and that says a lot baby. You’re all I could ever want and need  in my life. Now, if you want to show me some gratitude for loving you so much and for being your backbone today, maybe you could help me fix the problem in my pants that you caused as soon as I saw you leave the bathroom this morning wearing this outfit. Did I tell you how breathtakingly beautiful and devastatingly sexy you look right now? You know what was so hard for me—well, other than my painfully hardened erection, but it was seeing you in this skirt and blouse—watching you tell everyone of your plans with so much confidence and observing the way all the men in there were looking at you with desire in their eyes and not being able to walk up to you and kiss you with all my energy. I would have fucked you right there on the table if I could. But now that we’re both on lunch break—I’m all for eating you out right now. Lunch with a view sounds amazing and I’m not talking about the cityscape babe.” 

You playfully shoved him while attempting to get out of his embrace but he wasn’t having any of it and tightened his grip around your waist if it was even possible. “Mark, we can’t have sex right now, everyone is going to find out what we’re doing. You and I are not exactly the quietest people when we have sex—“ 

He gave you the most adorable pout before bringing his lips right under your ear and nibbling tenderly—trying to get a rise out of you. “Why not? We’ve made love in here many times y/n. I daydream about the multiple times I fucked in to you auto against this desk and against the window. The imprint of your breast on the glass is still in the back of my mind. Who cares if they hear? All the more better. I saw the way all the men would let their eyes linger on you a little too long. I think it’s time they are reminded that your bed is spoken for. It’ll also teach anyone in this building not to mess with you. Don’t try to talk me out of it, I know you’re a huge exhibitionist baby. There’s this one particular position that I wanted to try out if you’re okay with it. I’m going to need you to get on all fours and this blouse, as amazing as it looks on you, I want to see these pretty titties bounce for me. Get ready to sing my love—I’m going to make sure everyone on this floor knows whose the boss in more ways than one.”

I'm getting used to receiving Still getting good at not leaving I'ma love you even though I'm scared Learnin' to be grateful for myself You love my lips 'cause they say the Things we've always been afraid of I can feel it starting to subside Learnin' to believe in what is mine

I wanna love me (ooh) The way that you love me (ooh) Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too I'd love to see me from your point of view I wanna trust me (trust me) The way that you trust me (trust me) Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view

I couldn't believe it Or see it for myself Know I be impatient But now I'm out here fallin', fallin' Frozen, slowly thawing, got me right I won't keep you waitin', waitin' All my baggage fadin' safely (baggage fadin') And if my eyes deceive me Won't let them stray too far away

I wanna love me (ooh) The way that you love me (ooh) Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too I'd love to see me from your point of view I wanna trust me, ooh (trust me) The way that you trust me, baby (trust me) 'Cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view, yeah

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #got7 #mark tuan imagines #mark tuan got7

[sepublic]

Musical Car!

           What’s interesting is that the musical has a sign advertising Jesse’s name; Did he stop by the Musical Car at some point and inspire the denizens there with a speech about empathy, and how differences are okay? We know that had to have taken place prior to him, Lake, and Alan Dracula entering the Carnival Car, meeting The Cat, etc. Either way, I’m not at all surprised that someone as open and friendly as him would say such things, especially with an unconventional friend like Lake; And obviously he stuck by his words in the end, didn’t he?

           Lemme tell you though… I was legit disturbed by that raid, as well as seeing those poor denizens get legitimately hurt and injured for no reason at all, and that ONE decapitated dude almost getting wheeled, only to be converted into Simon’s thing; Like, screw you Apex. That’s what makes Simon and Grace interesting; I’ve always imagined the concept of more problematic protagonists for this series, so it’s not much of a surprise to see Book 3 dive into this! Given how much more, well… WORSE Simon and Grace are, pehaps it’s not all-too surprise that their arc was confined to HBO Max, given the even more mature tone set by them and their actions!

           Honestly, those two rapidly switch and range from terrible, nasty jerks I want to punch, to misfits with banter and chemistry, and plenty of comradery; Especially for people they DO care about! It really drives the point home that not every bad person is PURE evil, like they don’t spend every waking moment plotting how terrible they can be, and most don’t even consider themselves as bad! It’s disconcerting, but a good look into their mindset; With Grace genuinely trying to be nice and caring to the kids and not hurting their feelings, but also repeating Amelia’s lies about the train denizens being there for the passengers’ benefit, and… More on that later.

           Also- Glad to see Grace make fun of Simon’s fashion sense and acknowledge it, but at the same time… Either he was ten when he began to wear socks with sandals, AND/OR he was ten when he first met Grace; Presumably on the Infinity Train, although the idea of two individuals knowing one another PRIOR to boarding it is also fascinating! Especially given how Book 2 discussed the idea of fate and pre-determination in one’s paths and all…

           It’s interesting to see that not all Apex kids are against the denizens, like some DO want to make friends with them (albeit in a very invasive manner), but Grace and Simon just shut them down. I have to wonder if they themselves also had a similar moment with Amelia, only to be brutally shut down; And Amelia is objectively worse than those two considering how much higher her number is, and how SHE was the one who started this dumb ideology in the first place (instead of just being taught it at a vulnerable moment in her life like everybody else)!

           What’s worth noting is that Simon has a device that can detect the presence of other passengers, which is both VERY cool and VERY useful; I have to wonder if it’ll detect Hazel in the Jungle Car however. Given the speculation of her being a train denizen, it’d serve as neat, subtle foreshadowing as to her true nature, and I can see the show touching upon this! Also, the aesthetics of that device reminds me of what The Cat would own; Given how she’ll make a return this Book and has had a run-in with at least Grace in the past, I can easily see it being something she’d own. She IS a collector of useful things, after all… And I have to wonder if maybe The Cat was even a companion of Simon or Grace; Or maybe even Amelia! Perhaps the Passenger-Detector was a ‘gift’ from Amelia…

           (I mean, they HAVE to bring her back in Book 3, given how her ideology and actions are a direct consequence of everything that happens, and would fit nicely into her eventual redemption arc. Not to mention it’d give a fascinating insight as to what was going on in her mind when she indoctrinated the Apex.)

           Neat detail seeing the Unfinished Car with those corgi diplomats, and nice joke with that one turtle talking to what’s later revealed to be a phone with a line that’s already cut anyway! Grace breaking her Harpoon Pack makes sense; She wasn’t seen with one in the trailer and posters, and I guess it’d help ‘balance’ things if only one protagonist had a Harpoon Pack; So they can’t just skip over cars on their way back!

           Speaking of a way back; We have a set number of cars leading back to the Mall Car, so in other words we have a way of keeping track of the journey’s progress! It IS worth noting that the cars could always rearrange… It’s interesting to learn that cars apparently don’t move when passengers are inside; I always assumed that sometimes they might’ve and a passenger wouldn’t notice because all the cars look identical from the outside, and also being inside a pocket-dimension kind of skews around with the sensation of what’s going on outside. It’s possible that Simon and Grace actually felt the movement because of the Unfinished Car’s unusual nature…

           Regardless, after that disturbing opening scene it makes sense that One-One is stepping in! Given how he values the passengers more than the denizens (as seen with his second and final interaction with Lake), it makes me wonder how much he actually CARES; Or if he can’t afford to have people ‘breaking equipment’, and/or is mostly doing this to lean the Apex towards becoming better people by confronting them over their actions! At this point, they may end up pushing One-One too much and he’ll have to send in his Steward…

           Getting onto some existential crisis, the cruel thing about Simon and Grace saying that the denizens are made for them is… They’re actually kind of right? NOT that this justifies at all their wanton, senseless cruelty towards the train denizens… But it ties back to Lake’s existential crisis in Book 2, the realization and likelihood that she (and maybe even the Mirror World) was made purely for the character development of people like Tulip and Jesse! One-One himself outright says in the Book 2 Finale that, YEAH; Train Denizens are supposed to stay on the train because their entire purpose, their entire means of creation was just to fulfill what the passengers need!

           …Obviously, using them for raids ISN’T what One-One (and/or whoever made the Infinity Train/the Infinity Train itself) intended… But the disturbing realization still stands that the denizens’ purpose and creation in life is for the betterment of passengers, to accompany them, aid them… In the past, I’ve speculated how some Cars and their inhabitants don’t seem to have much of a personality beyond being a basic caricature to fulfill the ‘theme’ of a car, as well as aiding in passengers’ journeys! And obviously they’re all PEOPLE, but again this ties back into just how real the pasts and worlds of denizens were, as discussed by Mace; The idea that entire histories and cultures have been fabricated, and pre-programmed into the memories of denizens.

           Needless to say, it’s very disturbing… And if Simon and Grace ever change their stance on denizens and even start vouching for them, it’d be a brilliant reversal of their beginning attitudes to have them call out One-One for making sapient people for the sole purpose of serving others; Which could be a dilemma for him given how HE may have been made for the purpose of others! Given how Amelia taught the Apex her ideals, and she was Conductor for a time and thus had rather intimate knowledge of the Infinity Train… perhaps what she says about the denizens being just ‘toys’, made for the passengers, isn’t too far a stretch from the truth; Obviously a dark, twisted, and selfish distortion. But it’s emblematic, reflecting a deeper, underlying issue that could lie with the Infinity Train itself.

           (Especially since Owen Dennis said that One-One and the Infinity Train can be wrong…)

           Given how Amelia made cars with denizens that only ‘turned on’ once a car was considered ‘complete’ (or close to it), it suggests that she knows all about the artificial, pre-programmed nature of denizens because she’s made a few ones; Which when coupled with how she probably tried to make a Fake Alrick, and ultimately realized that a replica would never be the same… Eerily, it lends to the idea that part of what made Amelia realize this at the end of Book 1, was her mindset that denizens are just follow, fake copies of pre-existing things and aren’t even real to begin with.

           THAT is a cruel twist; That the very ideas that founded the Apex and caused our issues in Book 3, were low-key what helped Amelia wake up from her fantasy and realize that she needed to confront her issues! Given how high her number is, it only makes sense that while she’s making progress, she STILL has some more fundamental problems to tackle; Specifically the idea that while denizens aren’t the same or ‘real’ as the original, they’re still people and whatnot!

           All in all, a VERY fascinating watch! Just eleven minutes, but I’m hooked in; Sure this does tie a lot back to previously-established concepts, but what story-driven show doesn’t? It really recontextualizes and makes you think back about what WAS discussed already and how it changes with the more we learn and explore!

#infinity train #infinity train book 3 #infinity train cult of the conductor #infinity train season 3 #infinity train spoilers #infinity train season 3 spoilers #infinity train grace #infinity train simon #infinity train amelia #analysis #spoilers #it spoilers

[im-the-punk-who]

Black Sails as John Silver's SuperVillain Origin Story

Okay so I recently got asked about my views on Silver in a roundabout way so HERE ARE SOME OF THEM. I don’t often post about him because honestly I just really dislike him but he’s an extremely well written character and one of the best ‘villains’ I have ever seen portrayed. The reason Black Sails is such a compelling prequel to Treasure Island is that it does not just say ‘John Silver is a villain because he does bad things.’ Like all the characters in Black Sails he is complex, with deep and thoughtful motivations for the things he does. We see him as a villain because Black Sails sets his goals up in opposition to those of the protagonists we want to succeed - Flint and Madi - but he is not villainous in his own right.

But it is the effects of those motivations on himself that, to me, are the most interesting. 

And just up front because I know this is a touchy subject - especially coming from, well, me, lmao. This is how I read Silver. If you disagree, that’s cool. Like literally everything else in Black Sails(and fiction in general), Silver’s character is mutable based on your views and experiences. Tomato/Tomato.

So! To me, the most important thing about John Silver’s character in Black Sails, is who he is in Treasure Island. Black Sails is a prequel, and Silver is a major character in Treasure Island. We see his actions in the book(albeit through the story of the man who survives him, and, oof, isn’t that a bit of a kicker). We know that in this future Silver is still a lying, manipulative and mysterious person, hard not to like but hard to know.

That consistency is the most important part of Long John Silver’s character to me: he doesn’t really change from the beginning of Black Sails to the end, because he’s not really meant to. 

Silver may not exactly like the person he is but there is no point in trying or wanting to change.  In his view, who he is is just as immutable as the world he exists in. 

And that's the brilliance of Black Sails. 

Silver isn’t the way he is because he is ‘evil,’ or because he wants to intentionally cause harm. He is the way he is because it is the only way he’s worked out to survive. It is “the only state in which he can function.” He does not believe in a cosmic story, in a grand design or justice in the world - and because of that he does not see the point in trying to change something that has kept him alive thus far to appease it.

The entirety of the beach flashbacks is, to me, the summation of both Flint and Silver’s characters but this in particular I feel is important:

-Do you really imagine a few weeks of this is going to make much of a difference? Am I not what I am at this point?

-It's better than nothing.

In the grand scheme, Flint and Silver only know each other for about six months. 

Their relationship - especially to Silver - is a transient one. A handful of weeks. Was it ever enough to expect it to make any bit of difference?

But not so for Flint. He truly believes humans are capable of change, and he believes even the smallest bit of progress is worth the effort. Flint takes the things that happen to him and make them a part of him.

But for Silver,

I've come to peace with the knowledge...that there is no storyteller imposing any coherence, nor sense, nor grace upon those events.

Therefore, there's no duty on my part to search for it.

Silver refuses to acknowledge his own story and so is unable or unwilling to see himself as capable of change throughout it. Or even really the need for change. And that’s not said as a negative - that is who he is. That is who his past - whatever it was - has taught him.

And so he consistently acts solely for his own gain, benefit, and safety. Because if he doesn’t, who else is going to?

And this continues the differences between Flint and Silver. 

While Silver is very wrong that his past is irrelevant, he is correct in that it doesn't matter. It doesn’t matter what his past is, because we can clearly see the effects of it. We don't NEED to know his past to understand his actions.

However, without knowing Flint’s backstory - Thomas, Miranda, England’s betrayal - his actions don't make sense. They are erratic: they seem villainous and vile and like the acts of a tyrant or a madman. Because his actions are tied to his story.

But from the very first moment we see Silver fight the cook over what he presumes is a chance at living, Silver is clearly trying to figure out what is best for him. 

He doesn’t care about Flint’s war, or what the treasure could fund. He doesn’t care about the pardons, and he doesn't care about England. He doesn’t care about piracy. All he cares about at first is the life the treasure could buy him. But when he loses his leg, suddenly the thing he literally spent two seasons fucking everyone over for becomes completely inconsequential, because it no longer benefits him.

It is without relevance.

And through the very last time we see him speaking him to Madi, he is doing the same thing. 

That's not to say he doesn't form friendships or care about people. He is, indeed, a hard man not to like, and I think he also genuinely likes people as well. But that doesn’t mean he changes because of them. The friendships he forms with Flint - with Billy, with Muldoon and Randall and the other crew members - the relationship he forms with Madi. They are all real, but they are also all expendable to ensure his own comfort and survival. 

In the first episode of season 2 we’re told point blank:

It’s likely that if our interests were averse, I’d betray you to save myself.

And of course at this point Silver and Flint are little more than necessary enemies, Silver has no reason to want Flint alive. But the pattern holds throughout the whole show. 

Later in season 2, when Flint is thinking about changing tactics to prioritize the pardons over the gold, Silver has no problem screwing over the entire crew(minus the two men he’s recruited) to meet his own ends. It’s what’s best for him, and Silver operates on this assumption that every person needs to look out for themselves. 

And then again, in the finale of season 2 - he saves the crew because it also means saving himself. When Vincent brings up leaving, Silver says that they would likely be killed if they tried - he’s already considered that option and rejected it because his odds of survival are higher sticking with the crew. 

And then of course, in season three, in the maroon cages - you can bet that the fact that flint’s psyche basically controlled whether they all - including him - lived or died was a major driving force behind his dedication to getting Flint to come up with a plan better than Billy’s in which - again - they all likely end up dead. 

His relationships with Madi and Flint in particular are deep, and so it is the worst thought possible when he realizes that they are starting to agree with each other, but not with him. When Madi agrees with Flint over trading the cache for the fort, I read this as the true end of Silver’s support of the war because the war now threatens his personal ‘safety.’

Because at that moment, the thing most important to him is keeping Madi - who he not only has come to care for but who supports him. And she makes him know she supports him. And the prospect of losing that is what ultimately I think drives him to planning to send Flint away, rather than bring Thomas there or some other plan. 

And again it isn’t maliciousness - not outright. He is doing what he thinks he needs to to survive, because he cannot have enough faith in either Flint or Madi to think they won’t drop him the moment he stops being invaluable. And in the end, that lack of faith is what spells the end for any chance he has at having them in his life.

When he thinks Madi might die if they continue, he doesn’t care if she hates him. He doesn’t care if Flint hates him. He doesn’t care if the relationship is destroyed if he gets what he wants out of it. Madi’s survival. The end of the war. An end to Flint and Madi’s relationship so that he can ‘protect’ her from death and choose how he ‘loses’ her. It is always less painful to be the one doing the leaving.

Based on his world view - that you must protect what is in your own interests and the only person you can count on is yourself - that is the right thing to do.

Over and over we see that Silver is mostly interested in other people through the guise of his interest in keeping himself alive. And I also think that because of that, he views himself as expendable to other people as well. 

When Muldoon insists that the crew would take care of him if he needed that, it’s clear that Silver doesn’t believe him. He still believes himself to be expendable unless he is useful. He is constantly managing his image, managing how people see him, managing the things he allows others to see and what dangers or threats they pose to him, because he believes these are the things that keep him safe. Not his friendships, but what he brings to them.

Part of what’s so heartbreaking about Silver’s arc in season 4 is how terrifyingly close he comes to believing himself worthy. He wants the war because the two people who mean the most to him, who he sees as vital to his own survival - Flint and Madi - are both committed to it. And he’s committed to them. But I also think that just for a second, he starts to see their vision. 

When things are going well, when he can’t see the body count, he comes so close. But then of course, when everything falls apart and he is forced to confront once again the horrors of the world, he retreats.

That line he has:

And as long as (I have his true friendship) he is going to have mine.

I see that get thrown around a lot as a declaration of love, of deep feelings - and it is, to an extent. But it is also a sign of the deep mistrust that Silver harbors even when he is not looking to.

Even in this moment when he has Madi, when it must seem like they are nigh unstoppable and Silver himself is poised at the head of this great thing - when he and Flint are closest and when, I assume, Flint couldn’t fathom betraying him. Silver is still thinking in the eventuality that it will happen.

I have his true friendship, and as long as that is true, he is going to have mine. 

Silver’s love is always conditional. And that doesn’t make it any less ‘real’. It doesn’t make it any less important. But it does make it easier to take back. And that’s important for him!! It’s important for Silver’s own safety that he never rely on someone so much that he cannot cut them loose if they pose a ‘danger’ to him.

And to me, that’s the most important thing to realize about Silver. He is a ‘villain’ - and again I use the term loosely because he is ONLY a ‘villain’ because our protagonist’s stories are set in opposition to his - because he will always put himself above the grander goal. 

We see this in Black Sails, and we see this in Treasure Island. John Silver betrays Jim even though he feels conflicted about it. It isn’t until the very end, until Silver sees once again the same opportunity flash before his eyes where someone he loves is in danger and he cannot live with their death, that the treasure itself becomes unimportant again. Black Sails does an incredible job of giving us an antagonist whose defining trait is that he cannot see himself being meaningful in any way that matters. 

Silver ends up destroying just about every relationship he has because of this inability. Time and again when he is faced with an opportunity for growth that comes with hard decisions, he chooses to destroy himself. Because it is easy. 

It is easy to destroy the thing you do not care about, it is easy to destroy yourself if you don't value yourself. To call it winning because at least you are still alive and the things you’ve had to sacrifice are merely unimportant - inconsequential. But thinking like that hurts not only ourselves, but others too. 

And it is not that Silver puts himself first, plenty of other characters do that as well - Miranda, Jack, Max. It is the fact that Silver must deny himself in the process that makes him the villain not just in Black Sails, but in his own story. And THAT is the origins of his supervillain story. That he is, in fact, his own. 

#black sails #john silver #milos black sails meta #black sails discourse #black sails meta #we'll see how this goes over lmao anyway CATCH ME ALWAYS SAYING THAT THE WHOLE POINT IS THAT SILVERS INABILITY TO CENTER HIMSELF #/MAKES HIM THE VILLAIN/ AND THATS FUCKING BEAUTIFUL #long post

[unluckyadept]

Character Journal Entry

{EASTER SUNDAY, 2021T}

The journey does not end here.

=-=-=-=-=-=

[It had been a long time since he had properly written. A very, very long time. So much had happened. It wasn’t just A long story—it was SEVERAL long stories.

But he had to at least try. Had to put in the effort, during this lull, this brief respite.]

=-=-=-=-=-=

It is something I have had to remind myself, now. More often than before.

=-=-=-=-=-=

[He had one particular person in mind as he reflected. If only he had proper time for a letter….

Maybe he could draft one as he wrote down his thoughts.]

=-=-=-=-=-=

How easily a man’s fortunes may change! It was not too long ago that I looked out to a new sunrise, a life of my own choosing.

My friends and I were well. Our families were well. Our lives were secure, and our allies were prospering. The common man could travel freely, secure in the knowledge that he need only concern himself with the {[business/matter/reason]} that drives his journey—others maintained security within the towns and across the countryside, and would maintain order and enforce justice should lawlessness prey upon him.

Everything was so secure, in fact, that I no longer held it a concern. Yes, even then, the tension was growing—and the Prideful summer season of the Colosso was a month of (what felt like torturous, at the time, before we learned what it was like when it’s even worse) hatred and disdain, and unpleasant as usual—but I was certain that with the sunrise, peace could be made possible by reaching out in joyful prosperity to the common human nature that is within all people.

It was not so long ago that all was right in our worlds, and we eagerly climbed out of the dust of mere survival and into the sunlight of true Living.

Not so long ago, indeed, that all was well for us in the world.

We had all we could ask for; health, family, friends, purpose, security, justice, fair recompense, resources, joy, peace, and—for the first time in an incredibly long time, on my part—

Hope.

It seemed, in those golden days, that against all odds—against all I’d been told, all that I’ve suffered, all that holds contempt for me, despite all my previous perpetual misfortunes, the repeated betrayals, the years of futile struggling!—against all odds, at last, all was well and we could all begin to know a life of true Joy in a happy and prosperous peace.

The years of darkness were finally behind us, and in that hour—brief as it was, and all too quickly and most painfully stolen—it was all worth it.

It had all been worth it.

To experience such true peace, surrounded by blessing, unburdened by darkness—

Oh, it was so, so worth it!

=-=-=-=-=-=

[…And then it was gone.

His heart ached as he sat in silence and sorrow, thinking back on how it started to fall apart, piece by piece.

Worse, and worse,

and worse

and worse

and worse

and worse

and worse and worse and worse and WORSE until at last, it had stuck so incredibly deep that it could only distinctly get worse if the walls continued to close in and suffocate him entirely.

It was so profoundly and inexplicably terrible that it sounded like a wild story written by an inexperienced Writer, too intent on giving suffering to the main characters that they failed to appreciate how it muddied the main plot and was too arbitrary to be realistic.

If he weren’t currently LIVING through this Purgatorial suffering, he wouldn’t believe it were even possible to be “realistic” for things to go so suddenly, so terribly, and so thoroughly wrong.

Each day was a year, now. His wretched and arduous labor was compounded by the yawning abyss that was the hopelessness of seeing no end in sight to such misery.

How quaint of poetic irony to strike him in such a way, that he was truly blind of the world as much as he was (and in fact, because he was) blind of true Hope.

Oh, he knew what it “looked” like, well enough. He knew he had once held such confidence and serenity, and that it had been worth it, to press on until his burdens were lifted. Abstractly, he did believe—within a given set of necessary requirements for it to be possible—that it could happen again.

He knew it existed. Logic dictated it was still true.

But he could no longer feel it. 

Not in its true state.

=-=-=-=-=-=

What is a man’s life, to toil away, and have tyrants destroy all he worked for? How easy it is to be so burdened by suffering under hateful tyrants that such a mindset drains the will to live.

Even I ask myself this, in my own iteration.

For mine is a terrible fate, a burden one would not wish on any man. And indeed, my whole life has been filled with sorrow and pain. All my joy has been fleeting in comparison. And it seems to me now, in this hour, as our enemies close in on us once more… that what little good I have managed to do will be meaningless. Soon to be forgotten, even sooner to be lied about, and already been robbed of any credit for what people DO acknowledge as positive.

But there was something that a good friend said, shortly before I lost

=-=-=-=-=-=

[He stopped there, feeling the terrible weight on his chest—from all the tension, all the strain— making it hard to breathe.

And he clenched his jaw, trying to fight off the inclination to be overcome by the raw pain that still ran deep.

For this was the message he was getting at, after all, wasn’t it?

And yet a single tear still managed to escape and mar his face, betraying the lonely sorrow that persisted despite an adult appreciation of reality and a mature acceptance of the inevitability.

Taking a moment to close his eyes and let it pass, he took in a deep breath and let out a sigh before he continued.]

=-=-=-=-=-=

It is not Man’s fate to have to rely on the whims of the world to determine whether or not existence will have meaning.

The journey does not end with losing everything over time, until at last, even the connection to this world is permanently severed.

It does not end in sorrow, in loss, in suffering, in misery, having long forgotten even starlight in the grim darkness of years without a sunrise.

=-=-=-=-=-=

[And his heart was less burdened now, reminding himself of this fact.]

=-=-=-=-=-=

Did not our ancestors toil away in thankless drudgery, generation after generation, subject to the greed of entitled ignorance, before we ever came to know those moments of prosperity and peace?

If we endure, if we stay true, then if nothing else, those who come after shall benefit from the good we have done and the foundations we placed—even if it had been torn asunder again and again, still, able to pick up the pieces—and build the world we wish to see.

And so we must remain strong, we must continue, for it is a certainty that there is good in all people, and it is never too late for the true repentance of past evils to contribute to a genuine reconciliation and peace.

For how many could honestly say that there is naught in their life that they regretted so deeply, so truly, that they were moved to become a better person? When we learn from our mistakes and desire to do better—to do good—then we do indeed turn aside from the darkness and work to build a better future.

How, then, can we say so readily that it is impossible for others to do the same? Are we not all equal?

We are not identical, but that is not necessary to be equal in dignity.

Therefore, let us resist the despair that “they” will never change, and are dead set on hatred and misery.

It is writ upon every heart this indelible truth: just as we know our hopes, dreams, dramas, sorrows, anguish, labors, friendships, enmities, joys, and rewards of time and effort…

…so does every human soul. I refuse to accept the notion that judgment must be made upon entire groups for the sins of individuals. And it is unfounded, cruel, unjust, and bafflingly pointless to treat people poorly for the sins—real or imagined or generalized—of their ancestors, let alone the ancestors of people who are judged to be similar in appearance.

So too do I reject the notion that it is impossible for things to change.

Everything is impossible if no one puts forth the effort to make any given “impossibility” a reality. 

Such true Joy and Hope as I had known was indeed a prosperity such as been admired in ancient ballad and inherited dream.

If I had known it then, against all odds, having healed from the wounds and sickliness of years of suffering—

If I did indeed live long enough to Live, however briefly, then might it not be possible again?

The journey does not end here, my friends.

This is not the end.

Darkness does not have the final say—nor is anyone barred from true change, such as drives one to grow strong, work hard, and do good in this world.

For it is not indeed about whether we knew luxury, in the end of this life. Nay, rather, what lingers, what is carried over, is this—

We live to build the world around us. Each labor we undertake that adheres to the paths of virtue provides the resources used to build a better world. As we continue down this road along the shoreline, yearning for those who have already taken the road to dawn, we know this—

The good others have done for us has brightened our lives and brought us higher out of the darkness and into the sunlight, and has had meaning.

So, too, do our good deeds impact others.

The journey does not end here, my friends…

This is where it BEGINS.

—Felix

#cje #still relevant

[palimpsessed]

The Welsh Red Dragon, Kurt Vonnegut, and Social Activism

The inspiration behind Shepard’s pins

(original post with full artwork here.)

So, I spent A LOT of time thinking about the kind of pins our good friend Shepard (from Omaha, NE) would have on his denim jacket. Like a lot. Like an obsessive amount of time. I made a list, which seemed appropriate for this fandom. And because I’m a nerd and this sort of thing really interests me, and I’m proud of what I came up with, and because I think some of these items open up the possibility for some good, good literary analysis, I decided to make a whole post dedicated to Shepard’s pins. You’re welcome.

First, a little bit about my thought process. How did I decide what kind of pins to give Shepard? Well, he’s a guy full of stories. Stories that he can’t wait to tell anyone and everyone. And stories that others (mostly Maybes) have told him, once he’s earned their confidence. So, I wanted his pins to tell a story, his story in particular. What is the story that Shepard wants to tell about himself? More precisely, what is the story he wants to tell his new magickal friends on a disastrous summer holiday? The story is that of his own magickal credibility. His journey to magic (his come to Crowley moment, perhaps?) (I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry…) and his trustworthiness as evidenced by all of the Maybes he’s met along the way. He’s gotten drunk off dandelion wine with a creek dryad, given a toothbrush to a Sasquatch. spilled the tea with a jackalope, midwifed a centaur foal. Shep’s journey is just as impressive as Simon’s, and while Simon has been collecting notches on his dead dark creature bedpost (that’s a weird fucking metaphor…) (and now I’m thinking about dark creatures and Simon’s bedposts…so, you’re welcome, Basilton), Shep’s been collecting notches of the friendly variety. (Shoutout to @adamarks who did some super lovely analysis on Simon and Shep as mirrors here: https://adamarks.tumblr.com/post/188046272067/ok-so-when-shepard-said-he-was-cursed-the-first). So, I decided that I wanted to use Shep’s pins as a way to show the notches on his bedpost, so to speak. (Okay, I’m really losing this metaphor, but I think you’re still with me.)

Let’s dive in!

(I’m working my way down one side of his jacket at a time, for those following along at home.)

RIGHT SIDE

Welsh Dragon: I made this one very large, and easy to spot on his right shoulder. Of all of his accoutrements, this one felt like the most important. Mainly, because of Simon. Simon is, after all, half-Welsh. (The Mage, may he rest in pain, came to Watford from Wales.) And, of course, Simon, just like the Welsh Dragon, is a red dragon. (Or in the process of becoming one? Or a half-dragon? Or a dragon kitten?…) And the dragon that Simon and Baz fought on the Watford lawn, when they first worked together, and first shared magic, was a red dragon. Of course, the actual dragon in question here is Margaret. Shepard would absolutely have a pin to commemorate his friendship with her. And since I was going to give him a pin with a dragon, I knew I was going to have to use the Welsh Dragon because it would perfectly capture his burgeoning friendship with Simon, as well. Now, I want to go on a slight detour here (this blog post will be its own Odyssey) and talk more about the Welsh Red Dragon. I took the design for the pin from the Welsh flag, which is the thing that first made me think more about Simon’s Welsh connection. I’m not really making a point here, I just think it’s fascinating! There’s a lot of Welsh lore about the Red Dragon (and Margaret herself calls Simon “Great Red” - that ‘R’ is capitalized, by the way, so this seems to be a proper name for the kind of dragon that she thinks Simon is). Full disclosure, I am not Welsh and I am not a scholar on any of this by any means. That being said, a cursory, and super academic, perusal of the Wikipedia article on the Welsh Dragon led me to a few different history websites that linked the symbol of the red dragon with Merlin and King Arthur (son of Uther Pendragon, literally dragon head). Merlin, one of the most well-known magical figures and Arthur, one of the most well-known Chosen One figures in literary tradition. I know very little about Arthurian legend, and Welsh history, and dragon lore, though, so I’m going to just say, do a little research on your own when you’re bored and feeling nerdy!

Resist!: Shep is a young black man (and reasonable human being) living in the U.S. during the [redacted] Administration. I should hope this one is self-explanatory.

Hoover Dam: At some point in his visits to see Blue, I’m sure Shepard stopped off at the gift shop and bought himself a souvenir pin to mark the incredible experience he had making friends with an actual river. (This pin design is based on an actual souvenir pin of the Hoover Dam I found on Google Images—along with most of the other pin designs. I think it’s vintage, which just felt even more like Shepard to me, because he’s the kind of guy who would appreciate stuff that’s got a past.)

Deathly Hallows: I mean, IF the Harry Potter books/movies exist in the Simon Snow universe (which hasn’t been confirmed, as far as I know, by our Queen) I’m sure Shepard would have been totally into it as a kid, and probably would have found greater significance in its magical lore once he discovered that ACTUAL MAGIC EXISTS! So, he would have a pin to show his belief in the magickal world, and maybe also as a nostalgic reminder of when magic was still just something fictional he could turn to for escapism (and not something that would result in being cursed by a demon…).

The Truth is Out There: So, I know virtually nothing about The X-Files (my sister was obsessed with it to the point that she wanted to become a FBI agent for a few years, but I never watched it), but I’m sure Shepard is a fan. If nothing else, the sentiment is awfully apropos.

So It Goes: This one is very hard to see. It sort of looks like a black teardrop with a bar on top of it (it’s supposed to look like a bomb). The pin I based this off of reads “So It Goes”, which from my very superficial research, is a line repeated in Vonnegut’s anti-war novel Slaughterhouse-Five every time someone dies. I don’t know anything more about it, other than that it is a Kurt Vonnegut-inspired pin available for purchase on Etsy, and Shep mentions that he wanted to get a Vonnegut quote tattoo, even though “everybody has those.”

Green Alien Head: You will never be able to convince me that Shepard does not 10,000% believe in the existence of aliens. If he were still in the U.S. during the Area 51 Raid, I’m sure he would have stopped by, just, you know, for science…(I’m thinking he was probably still in the UK, but I guess we’ll see in AWTWB.)

Centaur: This one is also hard to see, but I took the design from a pin I found of one of the centaurs (the blue-haired, blue-bodied one, if that rings a bell for you) from Disney’s Fantasia. (Fun fact: I was super into Fantasia as a littlun, and I attribute my lifelong love for classical music in large part to the centaur sequence and my latent lesbianism—I mean, it was ludicrously erotic. Watch it sometime and tell me it would not make an impression on a sapphic three-year-old.) Midwifing a centaur foal was probably a very emotional and formative experience for Shepard. Buying this pin would be his way of remembering that experience, and the excitement and gratitude he likely felt to have been entrusted with that kind of acceptance from the centaur(s).

Jackalope: It doesn’t help that this pin is almost the same color as Shepard’s jacket, but it’s based off a design of a jackalope’s head that, again, I found on Google Image search (honestly, I don’t know how I ever made art without it). We know that Shepard once got some gossip from a jackalope, who vented to him about magicians calling “themselves ‘magicians’”, like “they’re the only ones with magic”. (This is totally irrelevant, but I always think of Americans when I read this. I am an American, by the way. America is a continent, but those of us living in the U.S. calls ourselves Americans, like everyone else living in America doesn’t matter.) Anyway, the jackalope offered Shepard some valuable insight into the political workings of the magickal world, so it gets its own pin.

LEFT SIDE

Pansexual Pride Flag Pin: I mean, technically, canonically, we don’t know what Shepard’s sexuality (or asexuality) is, but I just get some vibes from him. Plus, if we take him as a mirror for Simon (who is somewhere on the bi-plus spectrum), it’s not a far cry to imagine he also identifies somewhere on that spectrum.

Pentagram: This is another symbol that I chose based on my interpretation of Shepard’s character, and not so much on a Maybe or a story that he mentioned. The pentagram, or pentacle, is typically associated with the occult and witchcraft, which is something that could potentially also be said of Shep.

Sasquatch: You don’t go backpacking—or not backpacking—and introduce a Sasquatch to the benefits of dental hygiene without getting yourself a souvenir of the hike.

I [heart] Mystery Spot: The Mystery Spot is a weird sort of phenomenon in California (my home state). It’s a place outside the beach town of Santa Cruz that boasts of a “gravitational anomaly” on its website. I went once, years ago, and while you’re there, it can feel pretty convincing. (Also, I was probably like 10, so…) People outside of California will likely never have heard of this place, but driving around here (at least in the Bay Area, where I am, which isn’t that far from Santa Cruz) you’ll see yellow Mystery Spot bumper stickers on cars everywhere. I’m not really sure what the thing is with the bumper stickers. Like, I’m sure not that many people actually think it’s legit, and maybe it’s like one of those things that Californians just do (like freak out and forget how to drive when we feel water falling from the sky). But yeah, these bumper stickers are everywhere. Anyway, Shepard drives around a lot. He knows about the Vampires of Las Vegas (how is that not an indie rock band?) and the Katherine Hotel, and the Next Blood. So, he’s probably made it past Nevada and into California before. And while he was there, it’s not a great stretch of the imagination that someone who chases after magic wouldn’t wind up at a place called the Mystery Spot and get himself a pin while he was there. (And maybe even a bumper sticker.)

Black Power Fist: Unfortunately, this one is also hard to see, because the fist is black and I didn’t have anything to go over the outlines of the fingers with, which I sort of didn’t think about when I colored it. This one also feels self-explanatory. Shepard is black. Blackness has long been treated in itself as a crime by non-black members of law enforcement, and just the general racist population of the U.S. Young black men are especially vulnerable to racially motivated violence. I’m sure Shep, who drives all over the country by himself and gets into high speed chases at night in the middle of nowhere Nebraska while hunting super shifty rando Maybes has had a run-in or two. Stay safe, Shep!

Every Pronoun Belongs Here [Trans Pride Flag background]: Also, super hard to see because the letters are too small to read. I found this exact pin in a basket by the register at my local bookshop. (Support local bookshops, people!) They were being sold as a fundraiser for a LGBTQ club at one of the high schools, and I loved the idea that I could help them raise money and add this pin to my own growing collection to show off my support for trans rights. (Support trans rights and trans people, people!) I decided to give Shepard this same pin, because I could imagine him having an almost identical book buying experience in a dozen other towns that he’s probably visited. And I love the simplicity of the message, because it’s one of belonging, which EVERYONE is desperately seeking, no matter who they are or how they identify, and Shepard, and every character in this picture, is no exception. (Plus, it seemed like a cool way to connect my pin collection with Shep’s. Maybe I should have mentioned the fact that I’m also a pin person at the beginning? I walk to work and on my lunch breaks, so I carry all of my stuff in a backpack. And I proudly display my random pin collection on my backpack. Including several Simon Snow-related pins.)

Don’t Panic: This was based off a Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy pin. I don’t really know anything about the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (including if it’s okay to abbreviate it as HGG? THGTTG? whatever), even though I did watch the movie years back when it was on TV and I still lived with my parents who had a TV. But the sentiment felt appropriate, and Shepard is a sort of magickal hitchhiker. Apart from managing to hold down a job at Dick Blick, he appears to lead a somewhat nomadic lifestyle. He tells Penny, “the road is my teacher”, and if that’s not a hitchhiker slogan, I don’t know what is. (Ass, gas, or grass?)

Black Lives Matter: They do. Just sayin’.

Magic Troll Doll: When I was growing up, the Troll doll was all the (nightmare-inducing) rage. Trolls are one of those magickal creatures that are continually mentioned in the series. Shepard talks about lonely trolls under bridges. Simon talks about killing trolls. Agatha would rather kiss a troll. And Baz was kidnapped by numpties, who are sort of like trolls. I couldn’t not include a troll. And the Troll doll specifically felt perfect, because the full name was Magic Troll Doll. You can bet if Shepard had to pick a troll-related pin, it would be a magic(k)al one.

[Asshole]: This is another Kurt Vonnegut pin. It looks like a messily drawn asterisk (*), but it’s actually meant to be an asshole (taken from the preface of Vonnegut’s novel Breakfast of Champions, and drawn by Vonnegut himself). I just thought, why the fuck not? So, here. Have an asshole pin. (I should have put it on a buttonhole…)

HONOURABLE MENTION

Shepard’s Phone Case: Remember that line I quoted earlier, about Shep wanting to get a Vonnegut quote tattoo? Well, when I was trying to figure out what to put on his phone case, I thought that seemed like a reasonable place to start. So, I googled Vonnegut quotes, to see if I could find one that I thought Shepard would like. Here’s the quote: “a purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved.” I just loved that for Shepard.

#shepard #from omaha #hi im shepard #im from omaha nebraska #my art #headcanons #carry on fanart #simon snow series #carry on #wayward son #any way the wind blows #rainbow rowell #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #agatha wellbelove #baz pitch #penny bunce #are not in this but i'm tagging them anyway #random british spellings for no reason #penelope bunce

[script-a-world]

Clearly there are some settings which make no sense scientifically. But how do I decide when to intentionally ignore reality, can't bother to do research, don't understand research, and thus create scientifically impossible places? When are such things considered be offensive or overused cliche or have a reader point out the impossibility and can't get into the story? I'm guessing some of this might be structural issues instead of world building?

Tex: One of the perils of attempting to write about highly technical subjects is that you run into the issue of not understanding your writing. I do raise a nominal objection as your first sentence, because sensibility is a sliding scale based on one’s familiarity with a given subject. I don’t know crap about, say, textile art (however much I might have bluffed readers in the past - no, no, this is just good googling skills on my end), but that doesn’t mean the textile arts are an inherently incomprehensible subject.

Scientifically, automobiles were once thought to be insensible. Scientifically, phones were thought to be a flight of fancy. Scientifically, 3D printing was improbable. Scientifically, quantum computing was the stuff of sci-fi nerds who just wanted to slap the “quantum” label on everything.

And yet we are now on the verge of robotic vehicles, mostly functional smartwatches, laser printing cells (PDF), and quantum computers (VentureBeat, IBM).

So I would argue that the insensibility of a setting would be due mostly to, yes, a structural issue - on the part of the author. No matter what you put into your world, internal consistency is key; nothing, no matter how ostensibly outlandish, will make sense if you contradict yourself.

I’ll volley a few questions back to you:

“[...] when to intentionally ignore reality” - Are you ignoring reality entirely, or just parts of it? Why? How does that decision benefit your world? How does it detract from your world?

“Can’t bother to do research” - Is it because you are discouraged by the breadth of your comprehension of a subject, compared to the subject’s depth? Or is it because of something else?

“Don’t understand research” - Is this because you don’t understand the academic papers that turn up in your search results, or because you have a fundamental lack of or misunderstanding of the given subject? Or is it because of something else?

“When are such things considered to be offensive or overused cliche” - As someone who intentionally arranges their studying around the plausibilities of the future, I would quite frankly be delighted to see more conceptual stretches of the imagination in this regard, as do many others on this blog, and beyond it. Why have you already passed judgement on the offensiveness or clichéd-ness of incorporating scientific things? Is this related to your other comments?

“[...] or have a reader point out the impossibility and can’t get into the story?” - If you are writing to please a specific individual or demographic, you are inevitably always going to fall short, because it’s genuinely impossible to meet every single item on a group’s wishlist without devoting your life to it (not an entirely worthy pursuit, in my opinion, but alas). What made you decide to be so concerned over the potential reaction to your stories that you worry about it before the story is even written?

I think I will put the majority of my curiosity’s weight on the last bullet point, as I’m seeing similar themes with the other portions of your question. It’s a fruitless endeavour to tie yourself into knots over a possible (not necessarily probable!) reaction - and quite likely from a stranger, to boot. Education is a relatively easy situation to fix, so long as you’re patient with yourself; dealing with anxieties over readers is… not so easy.

I can really only recommend that you take a close look at the goals of your worldbuilding, and see where you contradict yourself - once you have that in hand, it’s a relatively simple yes/no process of what concepts you want to keep. If the issue of decision comes from a lack of understanding, then make a note to yourself to seek out either the million wikis we Pylons utilize ourselves like any other worldbuilder, or to chalk it up as a genuine lack of context.

Please understand that even someone who’s dedicated their life to a certain aspect of science won’t know everything about it - that’s the point of research! We’re constantly asking ourselves questions, and pushing the envelope of known boundaries. Star Wars has lightsabers, but we don’t need to know how they work; likewise with holodecks in Star Trek. So long as an audience is reasonably entertained with the least amount of head-scratching, you can get away with handwaving quite a lot.

Lockea: On a scale between Star Trek and Star Wars, how “hard” is your science fiction?

I mention that mostly to illustrate that science fiction exists on a continuum, wherein science fiction with more “science” than “fiction” drives a story towards the harder end rather than the softer end. Also, a story’s place on the continuum will change based on what we know and understand about science.

I feel like everyone always beats me to saying all the important stuff about questions, so I’ll just give a few thoughts from my personal experience as a science fiction fan with two engineering degrees and a thesis about robots on the moon (yes really, I wrote my thesis on AI for moon robots). I really, really, love the creativity of science fiction writers. I think so often in defending the genre, we can get caught up in saying things like “science fiction predicted XYZ!” Well, sure, I may have studied Isaac Asimov’s three laws of robotics in my introduction to engineering ethics course, but I was also greedily reading my way through “The Hunger Games” by Suzanne Collins at the same time. The fact that I sincerely doubt Panem will ever happen didn’t dampen my enjoyment of Katniss’s story. It was a fun read and it gave my friends and I something to talk about that wasn’t “feasibility of Battlestar Galactica” during our daily lunches.

The thing about writing science fiction is that, without a doubt, there will be someone who knows more than you about a topic who reads your story. Most of the time, I end up being that someone since everyone likes to talk about Skynet and robots taking over the world to a roboticist who sincerely refers to artificial intelligence as artificial stupidity. Y'all are seriously overestimating the field, my friends. Nonetheless, I still enjoyed “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” even as I thought how impossible Project Insight would be. Honestly, something every READER of science fiction needs to make peace with is the fact that writers will get something wrong. Writers, despite their best efforts, are not always going to understand that a facial recognition algorithm will fail if you introduce tiny amounts of random noise and are thus going to treat The Algorithm™ as infallible in your crime drama novel.

It’s not the writer’s fault, though.

That deserves to be on its own line. It is not YOUR fault if you get something wrong. Would it be nice if science literacy was just better all around? Of course! But it’s not your fault if your science literacy isn’t up to snuff enough to parse the article I cited above. It’s also not your job. Your job as the writer is to tell the most interesting story you can and to maintain your own internal rules and logic such that the reader never breaks the willing suspension of disbelief.

I watch Star Wars and get really into the light saber fight scenes and forget that light sabers are basically impossible to make. Star Wars has the Force, which is basically magic, and that’s okay. Really. I KNOW it’s not possible, but I still have a lot of fun watching it!

So yeah, write that story about how the robots are going to take over the world. I’ll probably enjoy reading it even as I laugh off my friends telling me that I will be the first to die in the robot apocalypse (of course I will -- I have five robots in my living room alone).

Constablewrites: Tone and consistency are the biggest pieces of this for me. If it’s the kind of story where the answer to “How does this work?” is usually a detailed and plausible explanation, then getting an answer later that is implausible or slapdash will stand out more. But if it’s the kind of story where the answer to “How does this work?” is “You push that button and it goes whoosh” from the start, my expectations adjust accordingly. (It’s possible to have the latter version in a story that is mostly the former, frequently when it’s played for last. Again, tone is key.)

So yeah, a lot of this is execution and the way the story sticks to the rules it sets for itself, and also how central the implausibility is to the story. A realistic thriller that relies on cartoon logic for a background bit might be a little jarring, but not nearly as much as a realistic thriller that relies on cartoon logic to set up its main showdown. The more central it is to the story, the more consistency and accuracy matters. Learning how to balance this can take some practice and some insight from beta readers.

#pylons #research #believability #worldbuilding #Anonymous

[cuthian]

A Song Only You Can Hear Chapter Two

Hi guys!

Second chapter ☺️ Also... I'm sorry? *hides*

Love Annaelle

PS Unbeta'd, so any and all mistakes are mine.

TWO

“Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world.” – Harriet Tubman

16 DECEMBER 2020 MAGGIE

“You know, someone told me once that a watched phone never rings, sugar plum.”

Maggie looked up from where she’d been engaged in a fierce staring contest with her infuriatingly silent phone, finding Ende, T’Nia’s sister leaning against the kitchen island. She hadn’t even heard her come into the kitchen. Maggie hung her head a little before she smiled up at Ende ruefully.

They’d been friends since college—had bonded over being L.A. girls in New York—and while Ende hadn’t been a massive fan of her best friend and her sister falling head over heels in love with each other at first, she’d come around quickly. Maggie was still relieved that she had, because the last thing she’d wanted was to lose her best friend over a girl.

“You’ve been a little preoccupied,” Ende observed, crossing her arms over her chest. “T’Nia mentioned you took on a new band recently, but I thought everything was going pretty well on that front?”

Maggie sighed and nodded, taking her eyes off her phone to look at Ende.

“It is,” she nodded. “They’re just…” she shook her head and heaved another sigh. Much as she wanted to tell Ende everything, she knew her friend wouldn’t believe her, and… and who would, honestly? She was still relatively sure T’Nia had only believed her because she knew Maggie well enough to know she’d never lie about something like this, and because she’d been able to prove what she was saying.

“They remind me of my brother,” she finally said, settling on something as close to the truth as she could manage. “Him and the other boys. They’re just… they’re so young, but they’re so passionate and so incredibly fucking talented, it’s…” she exhaled and shook her head. “It’s a little insane. And I guess I just… worry. They’re kids, you know?”

She leaned forward to rest her elbows on the kitchen island and shot a smile towards Ende. “I guess I’m a little prone to taking my work home with me.”

Ende nodded slowly, uncrossing her arms from her chest as she leaned on the counter too.

“After everything you went through with your family and your brother, I can see why that’d be hard to let go,” she conceded. “Just… promise me you won’t obsess, okay?”

“No,” Maggie denied immediately, maybe a little too readily. Ende raised an eyebrow at her and Maggie winced, hanging her head again before she admitted, “I’m trying not to let myself slip into that mindset again. And T’Nia knows, she… she helps. And I have Regina to focus on too.”

Ende hummed sympathetically and then pulled out one of the barstools to sit at the island across from Maggie. “When I met you,” she began slowly, “you were in a tailspin, Mags. Figuring out what happened to your brother and his friends was driving you crazy, was ruining your life one day at a time and you were letting it.”

Maggie looked down and swallowed thickly.

There was no use denying it.

She’d been desperate to know why her brother had been taken from her, why someone had looked at him and Luke and Alex and decided to kill them, and when there weren’t answers forthcoming, she’d… she’d lost it, a little.

Ende, and later T’Nia, had dragged her out of that deep, dark hole kicking and screaming and had helped her see that her brother had loved her and would never have wanted her to live the way she was living back then. They’d convinced her to go to therapy, to go back to school and to stop running away from everything that music meant to her—

They’d saved her life.

“I’m not going to let it get that far again,” Maggie said firmly. “It’s different.”

Ende looked down and sighed. “And I believe you when you say that, I really do. But as much as you’re worrying about those kids, I worry about you.”

Maggie was struck silent by the intensity of Ende’s gaze when her friend looked up again.

“I love you, Mags,” Ende continued. “You’re my sister and my best friend and I want you to be okay.” She fell silent for a moment and then added, thoughtfully, “And also I think T’Nia would cry for weeks if you lost your mind again and no one wants to see that.”

Maggie snorted a laugh and shook her head, and Ende dissolved into giggles.

“What’re you two giggling about?” T’Nia chuckled from the doorway, and Maggie jumped a little, because her situational awareness seemed to have stayed behind in L.A.

Jesus.

“Nothing important,” she said lightly, although she had to admit T’Nia could probably see right through her anyway. She kept her eye on her wife as she moved into the kitchen, eyebrow raised at her and Ende.

“Fine,” T’Nia chuckled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Maggie’s cheek before she turned to open the fridge. “Keep your secrets then. I’ll be out in the living room, feeding our daughter.”

“We were just talking about this new band she’s signing,” Ende said calmly, rolling her eyes a little.

“Oh, Julie and the Phantoms?” T’Nia asked, pausing on her way back to the living room, resting her hand on the small of Maggie’s back. “They’re very good. Nice kids too.”

“I told her,” Maggie said slowly, “that they remind me of Reggie and the boys.”

“Ah,” T’Nia nodded, and God, Maggie was so glad she’d married a smart woman. “There’s similarities, definitely, even appearance-wise. They’re very talented too. Julie actually found us; her parents own the house Reggie’s band used to rehearse at. Some of their things were still there, and she came to return them to Maggie. It was very kind of her.”

Maggie swallowed. “It was,” she agreed, before holding out her wrist, “She found my bracelet.”

Ende bent forward and cooed at the cheap, brightly colored plastic beads, and T’Nia shot a smile towards Maggie, pecking her on the cheek before she left the kitchen again.

She’d need to talk to the boys and Julie when they returned to L.A., she thought idly. They needed to be prepared in case Alex’s parents or Luke’s parents recognized them if they were on stage. They shouldn’t—couldn’t—take the risk of being caught unawares again, like Julie had been when Maggie recognized Reggie in their Youtube video.

They needed to be prepared.

Luke’s parents were older, and Maggie knew they tended to avoid music because it broke their hearts still, knew that Luke’s room was exactly how he had left it, but she knew that if they ever caught a glimpse of Julie and her little ghost band, they’d recognize their son as easily and as quickly as she had recognized Reggie.

She hadn’t heard from Alex’s parents in years, but she imagined his mother, at least, would know her son if she saw him. Bobby, too, remained an unknown factor, and if Maggie had any idea how to get in touch with him without arousing his suspicions, she would.

The last time she’d spoken to him was when she’d been twenty-one and had tracked him down after a concert, threatening to sue him now that she was an adult, begging him to tell her why, how—how he could’ve betrayed Reggie and Luke and Alex the way he had, how could stand himself—

He’d let her yell and then had security escort her out.

She didn’t know how he’d respond to seeing the boys again—and of every family member out there, Bobby was the most likely to find out about the boys. His daughter, apparently, was in the same school as Julie, in the same class.

It was only a matter of time before Bobby found out and Maggie wanted to be ready when he did.

Bobby had taken enough from the boys already.

She wasn’t going to let him take another thing.  

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

18 DECEMBER 2020 (2:17 p.m.) WILLIE

The Hollywood Ghost Club had been a remarkably pleasant place to live in recent months, more so than it had been in years, and Willie didn’t trust it one bit. Caleb hadn’t always struck him as a power-hungry tyrant, and Willie was actually pretty sure he hadn’t been one, initially.

Willie hadn’t been dead for nearly as long as Caleb had been, of course, and he didn’t know the specifics of how Caleb had died or how he’d ended up running the Ghost Club, but he knew the man that had taken in a terrified, nineteen-year-old ghost and showed him there was more to the afterlife than pain and fear.

He knew the man that had, in the early years of Willie’s own afterlife, sought to protect the deceased community of Los Angeles and had used his stamp only to control ghosts that had long since lost their humanity, that posed a threat to lifers and ghosts alike.

He knew the man that had tried so hard, in the beginning, to help Willie figure out his unfinished business, and that had comforted him when Willie came to terms with his unfinished business remaining undiscovered. Willie wasn’t sure when that had changed, when Caleb had started using his power and influence to gain more power, to gain more influence, when he had gone from caring and empathetic to manipulative.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t noticed before the other ghost had tried to force Alex and his friends into joining the Club, before Caleb had actively threatened him and the boy Willie really, really cared about, but now that he had, he couldn’t stop himself from noticing everything about Caleb. In the wake of the boys breaking free of the stamp—and Willie wasn’t ever going to forget the all-encompassing relief he’d felt when Alex had poofed into the skatepark after the show—Caleb had thrown an unholy tantrum that had wrecked the entire Club and had sent all of the ghosts cowering in their personal chambers.

The next day, he’d acted like nothing was wrong, and he’d made Willie promise to tell the boys that Caleb wanted to call a truce. That, as long as they left Caleb alone, he would leave them alone and, as an added benefit, he even allowed Willie to spend as much time with Alex as he wanted.

Willie was a little suspicious of it, but it did mean he got to spend time with his drummer boy, so… maybe he didn’t look into as hard as he could’ve.

In hindsight, that was probably a mistake.

He hid just out of sight, listening to Caleb talk to someone Willie couldn’t quite make out from this distance, his stomach turning at the casual tone of the conversation when the subject was so abhorrent that he could barely stomach it at all.

“And you’re sure they’ve got the potential we’ve been seeking?” Caleb demanded.

“Absolutely,” a female voice Willie didn’t recognize replied. It was a high, shrill voice, with a thick accent Willie couldn’t place, and he frowned, trying to figure out why Caleb would be meeting with a stranger to talk… whatever they were talking about.

“We don’t want a repeat of the last time,” Caleb replied smoothly, but Willie could hear the threatening undertone in his voice and shivered a little.

“How was I supposed to know they’d disappear for twenty-five years?” The woman exclaimed. “They were popular, people were supposed to talk about them constantly. Their ties to the world should’ve been far stronger than it turned out, you know that as well as I do.”

Caleb harrumphed, but didn’t offer a rebuttal.

“This man radiates power,” the woman continued. “It’s almost odd. He’s like a beacon. I saw many other ghosts being drawn towards him too. He’s alive, and very much so, but he has such delicious potential it’s impossible to ignore. If we want him, we can’t wait to act, Caleb.”

Caleb hummed thoughtfully. “I’m sure you have thoughts towards ensuring he has unfinished business and will return to Earth?”

Their voices faded and Willie leaned back against the wall, feeling nauseated. They were… they were talking about killing someone, about taking their life to make them a ghost so Caleb could use him and his powers—whatever they may be, whatever they meant with potential—and…

And… and the things they’d mentioned. ‘We don’t want a repeat of last time.’

‘…disappear for twenty-five years…’

Oh God, he had to tell Alex.

He had to find Alex right now and tell him what he’d overheard.

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

18 DECEMBER 2020 (2:23 p.m.) ALEX

Alex never meant to spy on any of his bandmates, Reggie least of all.

In his own defense, Reggie rarely played music outside of the studio—mostly because all of the instruments were in there—and when there was music playing in the main house, it was usually Julie playing something with Carlos or Flynn, and now that everyone knew about the boys’ existence, Julie had told them they were welcome in the entire house any time.

Ray, too, had extended the same invitation and had even designated the guest bedroom for them.

Why Luke and Reggie never thought of using that bed and room—with a door that actually locked—when they tried to take their relationship further was beyond him.

So when Alex returned from his daily walk around the neighborhoods they used to live in, to see the things that’d changed, and had heard music drifting from Julie’s room, he hadn’t thought twice about poofing up there to see how she was doing and what song she was playing.

He hadn’t expected to find Reggie, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of Julie’s bed with Luke’s acoustic guitar in his lap, songbook open on the floor in front of him.

He was singing.

Alex… Alex couldn’t remember the last time he had Reggie sing something more than a single line or a short verse by himself. His eye strayed back towards the songbook and he found, similarly, that he couldn’t remember the last time Reggie had let him see the pages of the songbook.

Of course, Reggie always shared his country songs, let him and Luke make fun of them good-naturedly.

Alex had known, though, that Reggie wrote actual, serious songs too, that the songbook was filled with songs about his parents and Alex himself, and Luke and Bobby and everything Reggie had ever had to deal with in his entire life.  

Reggie had always been a lot less… open about those songs.

Maybe, Alex mused as he listened to Reggie sing, with good reason. Emotion oozed from every word he sang, and Alex could honestly say he’d never heard Reggie sound like this.

Like… like his every emotion was laid bare for everyone to see and hear.

“…tired of all the will they, won’t they romance,” Reggie sang softly, quietly, voice thick with emotion, like he was on the verge of tears, “When you hold my hand, is it just by chance?”

There was a melancholy to the words… an unbearable sadness that Alex could barely stomach from anyone, but even less so from Reggie. He loved Reggie, in a different way than he had almost a year—or twenty-six—ago, when they’d still been together, when he’d still been hopeful that their connection was strong enough to last.

Before he’d realized Luke was in love with Reggie too and he didn’t stand a chance.

“Maybe this love is mad,” Reggie continued, still oblivious to Alex’s presence. “You’re filling every thought I have.”

Those words hit Alex harder, knocking the breath from his lungs. Reggie hadn’t ever been in love with anyone but Luke, not even Alex, and while he’d known that, it was still confronting to hear. He hadn’t known, even back then, that Reggie was suffering this much from his—then—unrequited crush on Luke and he hated that he hadn’t seen it.

They’d spent years together, spent months actually dating, actually giving their feelings for one another a real chance, and Alex had missed this.

How had he missed this?

“You’ll never know what you mean to me, ‘cause I won’t say,” Reggie very nearly whispered, “and you won’t ask me.”

And… and Alex should say something, should do something to let Reggie know he was there.

This was so incredibly private, and Reggie hadn’t chosen to share this with Alex, hadn’t consented to this—this was Reggie’s soul, his heart, laid bare in a way he’d never allowed Alex to see before, not even when they had been at their most intimate.

Before he could say anything, do anything, though, Reggie continued singing.

“Yeah, will we, or won't we?” Reggie’s voice was so soft, it was nearly inaudible now, and he really was very nearly crying. Alex itched to hold him, to hug him until Reggie would smile again, but he was frozen where he stood. “He said, "I don't love you, I'm sorry. I just didn’t want to be lonely”.”

Reggie’s voice broke on the last word, and Alex acted on instinct, dropping to his knees beside Reggie. “Reg,” he choked, reaching out for his best friend, who jumped at the sound of his voice, dropping the guitar with a clang, kicking the songbook halfway across the room in surprise.

“Alex,” Reggie exclaimed, eyes wide with shock and a tinge of apprehension. “What the hell! How—how long—when—when did you come in?”

“A minute or so ago,” Alex admitted, ducking his head down and rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “I think I just caught that last verse.” He swallowed thickly, uncomfortably and said, “It was beautiful, Reg.” He then forced a smile and added, “Besides, don’t worry. I knew you were probably writing Luke soppy love songs back when we were dating.”

Reggie blinked at him. “You—I didn’t—I didn’t write that for Luke, Alex.”

Alex… felt instantly wrongfooted.

Reggie hadn’t… he hadn’t been in love with anyone but Luke. He’d dated Ella for a couple of months and while he’d been pretty upset when they’d broken up, Reggie had later told Alex it’d been more about being afraid no one would like him than being sad about losing her.

So… so if it wasn’t Ella, and it wasn’t Luke, then… then…

He pretended his voice wasn’t shaking as he asked, “Who else would you have been writing sad, soppy love songs for, Reggie?”

Reggie gaped at him. “Alex. Alex, you—tell me you’re kidding.”

“Reg,” Alex whispered, reaching out towards his friend, but Reggie shook his head, backing away and getting to his feet. Alex inhaled sharply and got to his feet again too. “Reg, please, I—”

“You! Alex, I wrote the song for you,” Reggie interrupted in a rush of words, cheeks flushed and his eyes downcast. “Back when we were… when we were together. I was gonna play it for you on your birthday, but then you… you said it wasn’t working, and we broke up, and I never showed you.”

“Oh,” Alex choked, stumbling back a step.

He hadn’t… he hadn’t really expected that, even though he probably should have.

It didn’t make sense though, because he’d been so sure that Reggie’s feelings for him weren’t like that, that Reggie loved Luke the entire time he’d been with Alex that—that he couldn’t—he couldn’t process this, couldn’t make it fit with what he’d known to be true since the day he said yes to dating a boy who was already in love with someone else.

“I—Reg—I didn’t—why didn’t—” Alex stuttered, trying hard to make the words come out right, but his lips and tongue and mouth were working against him, and he couldn’t—

“Because!” Reggie exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Because you asked me to let it go. Because you told me that you were done, that it wasn’t working anymore. I know where I’m not wanted, ‘lex—I wasn’t going to push for something you didn’t want.”

Alex felt like Reggie had punched him in the solar plexus, knocking the air from his lungs. “Reg,” he breathed, shaken. “Reg, that wasn’t—you were—of course, I wanted you.” He stepped forward and caught Reggie by the shoulders, keeping one hand on Reggie’s shoulder and the other on his cheek. “Reg, it was never about whether I wanted you.”

Reggie looked at him with confused, wide green eyes, lips parted a little, raising his own hands to curl around Alex’s wrists and Alex realized, suddenly, abruptly, that he hadn’t been this physically close to Reggie since… since the last night they’d spent together after they’d broken up.

“What does that mean?” Reggie demanded quietly, insistently.

Alex exhaled shakily and dropped his hands from Reggie’s cheek and shoulder, turning to sit on the edge of Julie’s bed. Reggie stayed on his feet for a moment longer, staring at Alex with an indecipherable expression before he sat down next to Alex. “Reg, I wanted you so much,” Alex admitted, reaching out to take one of Reggie’s hands between both of his. He’d never really put this into words before, hadn’t ever even considered putting it into words and telling Reggie, but… But Reggie did deserve to know why Alex had chosen to break up with him.

“But—” he tried, “but… you were still in love with Luke, even after… after we’d been really together for almost a year, and then I figured out Luke was in love with you too, and—God, Reg, I never wanted to be in the way of that.”

“Luke didn’t tell you how he felt about me until after we broke up,” Reggie interjected quietly, and when Alex managed to look up at him, Reggie mostly looked confused. “He told me.”

Alex nodded shakily. “I know. I knew, though,” he whispered. “I saw the way he looked at you, the way he couldn’t keep his eyes off you, the way he’d look away when he thought you would see, the way he’d blush when you hugged him.” He sighed, swallowing thickly, and looked down at their hands. “And I saw the way you looked back—even if you didn’t mean to.”

He looked up at Reggie again, at green, watery and wide with surprise. “You never looked at me the way you looked at him and I wanted that. I wanted someone who’d look at me the way you looked at him. I wanted someone who’d pick me, and Reg—”

“Who said I wouldn’t have picked you?” Reggie interrupted quietly, shakily, and when Alex looked up at him, Reggie was looking at him like… like…

“Reg,” he said desperately. “Come on. Don’t be… don’t be cruel, okay, I can handle—”

“I was in love with you,” Reggie blurted, a blush high on his cheeks, the corners of his mouth turned down just a little and a frown on his forehead. “I’m not gonna say that I wasn’t still in love with Luke too, but Alex, I—I loved you. And I thought—I thought that you just didn’t feel that way, so I got over it because you ended it, and now… now you’re telling me that you broke up with me because youdecided I wouldn’t have picked you if I knew Luke was an option?”

---------

18 DECEMBER 2020 (3:46 p.m.) LUKE

Luke poofed onto the pier a little before he and Reggie had arranged to meet, rubbing his hands over his thighs nervously. He and Reggie had agreed they could use some time away from the others, time spent with just the two of them—and since they’d never gone on dates while they were alive…

Reggie had suggested the beach and the pier because they’d walked it hundreds of times before and there were always people around, so they’d be able to hold hands and talk and watch other street artists play music and pretend they were a normal couple going on their first actual date.

Luke was looking forward to it, but he had to admit he was a little nervous too, which was…

Ridiculous.

“It’s just Reggie,” he told himself sternly. He’d known Reggie since they were kids, had hung out with him by themselves on countless occasions, had been dating him for months at this point and had been in love with him for ages.

It shouldn’t be this daunting.

Before he could work himself into a tiff, Reggie poofed onto the pier just a few paces from him and Luke’s corny little heart did a little flip in his chest at the sight of him.

“Hey,” he exclaimed happily, bounding towards Reggie and slinging his arms around him as soon as he was within reach. “It looks like there’s a good crowd, and I saw a couple of artists already, so—” He cut himself off when Reggie turned to look at him, green eyes bloodshot and filled with tears, cheeks pale and his lower lip red and swollen, like he’d been chewing on it all day.

“Reg,” Luke breathed, shocked, raising a hand to touch his boyfriend’s cheek lightly. “What’s going on, baby, you look—”

Reggie blinked, like he hadn’t really registered Luke was even there before he’d said something.

Then, “I… I kissed Alex.” 

------

(Please blame my roommate for the cliffhanger, she said it's where I should end when I let her read it)

------

READ IT HERE:

Start from the beginning:

Unfinished Business:

(1) (2) (3)

Becoming a Memory, Becoming a Treasure:

(1)  (2)  (3)  (4)  (5)  (6)

A Song Only You Can Hear 

(1) (2) (3) 

Or read it HERE (BaMBaT), HERE (UB) OR HERE (ASoYCH) on AO3 :D

#A Song Only You Can Hear #ASOYCH #Bambat #BamBat sequel #ruke #peterpatter #willex #Luke/reggie #Alex/Willie #Alex/reggie (past) #julie and the himbos #julie and the phantoms #jatp fanfic #my writing #Lisa writes

[theholycovenantrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, HAYLEY! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF LUCA RICHE.

Admin Cas: Hayley, Hayley, Hayley. Your application felt, in a word, magical. You drew every one of us in to the romantic, rose-tinted world of Luca Riche, and I’m not sure any of us ever want to leave it. Luca is so good, so pure, so foolish, and evidence of that bled through your every word. And yet, your interpretation made him so much more than his love. He’s a hero, he’s a warrior — and for all his light, there’s darkness in him, too. The way you scattered quotes throughout your application really gave us insight into who Luca is beneath the surface. I’m so excited to leave our lovely, golden himbo in your hands, and I can’t wait to have my heart broken by him. Your faceclaim change to Daniel Sharman has been approved. Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Hayley

Age | 24 

Personal Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | Well currently I’m unemployed so I have all the time in the world to just flood the dash with writing! This may change in January/February where I’ll likely be on a few hours per day in the evenings and more active on the weekends (I may also need a hiatus to move/settle in if I have to move to a new state just a heads up!!).

Timezone | EST

Triggers | REMOVED

How did you find the group?  | I would follow Rosey and her brilliant ideas to the ends of this earth

IN CHARACTER

Character | Luca Riche (FC change to Daniel Sharman? I can be flexible with alts depending on Jasper’s faceclaim as well!)

What drew you to this character? | Honestly what DIDN’T drive me to this character. Literally like everyone else I can’t help but love him the second I laid my eyes on him. He’s magnetic and just so, so good. Like pure and good and I’ll be honest I’m not quite used to playing characters who possess the literal light of the sun within them but that’s what drew me to him like he was a beacon asking me to challenge myself in the new year.

There is something just so incessantly good about Luca, which is perhaps rare amongst humans. The world has a way of finding light and corrupting it, and yet Luca remains nearly untouched. I think he’s not entirely blind to the evils of the world, having willingly taken on his role as a knight with the knowledge that he may have to and since has shed blood, but I think he still sees it and its potential as inherently good, which makes it all the more difficult to see the bad in things. That’s not to say he is entirely blind to it, but there are many things he does not see as suspicious or just willfully ignores, especially when it comes to his brother (more on them later). Of course, some things will clearly indicate to him that he should be wary, things in the vein of Samael’s entire presence, but in most cases, he is willing to give the benefit of the doubt.

I also love seeing a character who is so magnetic and who embraces that magnetism, yet hasn’t let it go to his head completely. I can imagine Luca as somewhat caught up in that reputation, as he knows the sacrifices he is encouraged and nearly obligated at this point to make, and yet he still does it willingly, not because it is expected of him, but because he wants to. He does it for love, for the love of humanity and this world and peace. He will set himself on fire to keep others warm, and yet does not boast of his flammability. Perhaps this savior complex has, in some instances, gone to his head, but overall, Luca doesn’t appear cocky or full of too much pride.

He sees himself as a hero, after all, and he knows what ends heroes may meet. Glory is but a small reward to receive while living, but as long as he lives, he will do all that he can, do all that heroes are meant to receive. Luca is well aware peace may only be sustained once he has given all there is to give of himself, his aching muscles and his still-beating heart, and that is why he will give and give, knowing what it does to him, until there is nothing left. He is so selfless in almost all regards, and yet the tinge of selfish desire to uncover the dreams he’s been having linger like a fog at the edges of his vision.

I’ll be honest in saying I haven’t written a character whose heart is full of as much love and light as Luca’s, but I also think it’s impossible for anyone to ever have as much love contained within them as Luca does. It’s as abundant as sunlight within him and he seems to give it out just as freely as the sun spreads her rays about the Earth. He is Helios, pulling the sun through the sky, ignoring any burn that may come to his flesh, for the people he loves receive its light, and for that, he is happy, he is whole.

And don’t even get me STARTED on the Riche brothers. I love their dynamic, the balance they bring, the sun and moon. The sun longs so much to be with his moon, and yet while they are destined to coexist together, the moon is so rarely willing to share his skies with the sun. That doesn’t stop Luca from trying, of course. I was so drawn to Luca in part because of the dynamic he shares with Jasper, because I just love foils and I love how intertwined their stories are, much to Luca’s pleasure and Jasper’s chagrin. A father Luca never knew and Jasper knew all too well being the reason they were brought together, so close yet so distant. Luca doesn’t know when to give up, especially when it comes to his brother, and that might just be the death of him, for, unbeknownst to him, it once was.

What future plots do you have in mind for the character? | 

ONE. A cheering crowd. Sunlight glinting off his armor. Dust settling to reveal a beautifully colored dawn. A smile brighter than all of it. I want to explore the lengths Luca will go to in order to maintain peace across this land and bring some form of salvation to the people within it. They look to him for this, for him to uphold the values of these peaceful times and ensure that this land remains prosperous and happy, and he gladly shoulders the weight of this responsibility. I want to see the things they demand of him, and how increasingly challenging they may be. How much weight can one man withstand? What tasks in the pursuit of peace and salvation and justice may lead him to make tough, impossible, potentially immoral decisions? How much can one man sacrifice before he leaves himself too vulnerable, too spent, too weak to do all that they revere him for?

TWO. A cold sweat upon the back of his neck. Blurry faces. Shadowed intentions. A dagger. Waking up with a start. I’d love to see Luca discover more about his past life and explore how he would react to the truth. He’s already longing for answers after every brief glimpse his post-encounters with Samael bring him, but I want to explore what those answers look like and what he thinks of them, especially when he finally realizes who he is and how his story once ended. I think this will be a long-term plot, with brief glimpses and memories becoming clearer, where he may grapple with immense confusion and some denial before actually accepting the truth of his past. In this, I also want to see how far he may go for the truth, since this is the only thing Luca seems to be doing primarily for himself and his own gain. So used to being selfless, he finally finds one cause he cannot stay away from that is wholly his own — if he’s so used to sacrificing for others, what might he sacrifice to give himself a moment’s satisfaction?

To get there, Luca knows this requires spending more time with Samael, so I’d be really excited to plot that out and see the fallout! Luca does not like what he must do, and yet feels this pull to do it, and I can imagine it will take more of a toll on him than just these visions.

THREE. A hand rejected. Something just out of reach. Brows set in determination. Ignoring the warning signs. I so badly want to explore the dynamic of Luca and Jasper. There’s rich history between these two, not only in this life but the last. The shared loss of a father brought them together when the loss of Abel’s life had torn them from one another in the last life, and I want to see what elements of that life remain now, and what elements might be made clearer from the dreams and memories Luca has been unearthing as of late. He knows his brother opposes him in so many ways, and yet he sees the necessity in the balance they hold together. I want to explore how his view of his brother and love of his brother may change, if at all, once he learns the truth of what his old fate was. I’d love to see how he reacts, if there is any difference in the way he would see or treat Jasper, and what he might do to ensure the course of history does not repeat itself (that is, if he even imagines that as a possible threat now), if anything at all. This is stuff that would be plotted ooc! I know this one is a bit vague and leaves many directions open, but I want to ensure flexibility on my part to allow the story and other characters to also have their effects on Luca!

FOUR. Whispers in the streets. Learning from the past. Nature overtaking ruins. Second chances. I hope to see Luca encounter what is left of the Heretics, be it any hidden surviving members or relics from their rule. I think it could be a great moment of balancing the still-remaining grief from his father with the acknowledgement of the things he’s done — Luca has been able to keep that balance now at the Table, but that’s because he has nothing but the post-Heretic world to reference. I would love to see him challenged and forced to face the things his father has done head-on, and I want to see what lengths he might go to in order to rectify that. Perhaps he will lend so much of himself out of guilt and his naive desire for peace that he accidentally gives the Heretics (or a resurgence/birth or something similar to the Heretics) too much power and legitimacy, or perhaps he will learn that the past must be buried for a reason.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Did Cain murder Abel? Yes. The answer to both is yes I love to hurt

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation | 

“The sun never truly sets, Luca. Not when you’re here.” Peace. Love. The bright sun of a new tomorrow. Luca holds so much love in his heart for this world, but even more for the world he knows it can become if peace and prosperity are ushered in. He wants to maintain the peace that others worked so hard to establish in this new world, and he wants to ensure the happiness and prosperity of the people who inhabit it now. It’s almost a quiet expectation that was laid upon him since birth; Luca was swaddled in stories of heroism and hope as much as he was swaddled in cloth blankets when the sun set. That energy has stuck with him all his life, virtue as abundant in his veins as sunlight, and thus he wants to keep this world peaceful, keep it pleasant, and help to usher in justice and prosperity and build a utopia for the people who look to him. After all, he sees humanity as good at its core, and thus wishes to help or save all he can.

“You may share his blood, but you do not share his heart. Yours is ten times bigger and wrapped in gold — yours is a treasure to behold.” There’s also this father-sized weight upon his shoulders that he could not ignore. At first, his knees buckled in grief when he tried to carry it, but now he lifts it upon strong shoulders, years of practice strengthening the muscle. He wants to usher in a different legacy for the Riche name because he knows so well the mixed reactions that had preceded him. He grew up hearing the whispers that followed his surname’s reputation when others thought the child could not hear. While they beamed at Luca, and some uttered words of pride for his legacy, others would whisper curses at his father, despite the adoration they felt for the spawn just within earshot. He wants people to hear his name and smile, to think of the peace he brought and the good he’s done, and hopefully the good his descendants will continue to do.

“What wills you to bear your soul, fleshy and vulnerable, to the hungriest of vultures?” Answers also drive Luca, in a sense, but mostly in the reason he spends time with Samael. He cannot help the curiosity and longing that his vivid dreams inject into his veins, he cannot help the pull of the river of this mysterious blood. He longs to see where it lasts, and if he has spent his life being so selfless, why should he not have one thing of his own? He seeks so little, he thinks, so surely he can justify his actions. He gives so much and yet looks for only one thing for himself, so despite the means in which he achieves it, it cannot be so bad, can it?

Character Traits | OPTIONAL. Please list 3 positive traits and 3 negative traits that you identify in the character you’re applying for. 

+: selfless, brave, charismatic

-: too trustful, ignorant, doesn’t know when to quit

In-Character Para Sample | 

When the sun finally kissed Luca goodnight with magnificent shades of orange and pink in its wake and the moon promised her glow would keep him alight until the sun’s valiant return, he fell asleep readily, trusting the safety she sang of. Once, as a child, he’d been afraid of the dark, begging his mom to keep a candle beside him as if she could will the fire’s intentions or even pull the sun out of hiding for her boy. Back then, it wasn’t until she reminded him that he shone brighter than any star in the night sky, that he was her guiding light when the sun could not be, that he settled, determined to illuminate this home even in his dreams. When he dreamt back then, he dreamt of heroes, of daring rescues and brave knights and the whispers of legends passed down through generations. Shining armor and great adventure and triumphant endings held a young Luca’s mind during the night.

Tonight, there were no heroes behind his eyes.

He awoke in a field unfamiliar. The grasses were tall and beginning to yellow with the dry heat of the summer, which beamed down upon Luca from a sun that seemed much harsher than the one he had loved. Already, sweat began to bead upon his forehead, and as he sat up and wiped the moisture away, he realized his hands were tanner than they typically were. Perhaps the summer sun had been extra brutal this year. Dirt caked under his nails mixed with the sweat from his palm as he wiped them on an unfamiliar tunic. This world he awoke in was not the one he’d fallen asleep in, and for a moment, he wondered if his body was even the one he’d left in slumber, as well.

Standing up, the grass tickled his calves, a greeting from nature he had been familiar with as a child. Luca looked around for some semblance of where he was, but the world offered no kind clues. Even the sun could not help her favorite child here with a helpful, guiding ray. The field was vast, nearly as far as the eye could see, though when turning around, Luca noticed the beginning trees of a forest — no, a garden. The trees looked strangely like those that greeted him whenever he visited the Garden of Eden, and yet he could not fathom that a possibility, for this land looked nothing like the Holy Land he’d called home for some years, now. Perhaps his mind just ached for even a touch of something familiar, he believed. The slightest similarity to soothe a confused ache in his mind.

A shuffle in the grass caused Luca to turn around and face its source, and while he knew he should have been filled with some sort of nervousness, some sort of wariness upon facing the unknown, he could only feel calm, as if he knew what he was about to encounter. Thankfully, he did not need to feel fear as he looked down at his new companion, a round sheep lazily approaching him through the grass, newly sheared for summer. A soft, pleased sigh escaped him, and his hand reached out to pet the dark head of the bleating creature, who leaned in expectedly to Luca’s touch.

When he pulled back from the creature, red stained his hand. Shocked, he sucked in a sharp breath as the world around him began to blur. The field felt an illusion out of focus, even the garden on its outskirts felt too far to have ever been real. The only thing that remained real, the only thing anchoring him to this place was the sheep, who, upon taking a step back from Luca, revealed a slowly growing red stain upon his neck. Blood’s crimson stain grew and grew about the sheep’s neck, and the color of the grass beneath it began to change to follow suit. Beside him grew a feeling Luca could not shake: though he could only see himself and the sheep, they were not alone. And whoever this presence was, He was satisfied.

Luca awoke with a start, his breathing desperate and ragged. His hands, clean and pale with the winter’s early nights, reached to wipe the cold sweat that spotted his forehead. He stayed upright in his bed for what felt like hours, unable to succumb to sleep again, until the sun arose and painted the sky with soft, apologetic clouds for abandoning him for so long. A dream, it had only been, and yet the feelings it brought did not pass, churning in his stomach and sticking to its walls like the sweetest of honeys or the thickest of bloods. Something about it felt much more real than the other fleeting escapes his mind entertained under the moon’s watchful gaze. The dream lingered on the tip of his tongue, evasive and then out of reach, and with it, a single word.

Sacrifice.

It was the first, and it would not be the last.

Extras | Pinterest

Luca said himbo rights (he is emotionally intelligent but not near as intelligent in the classical sense as Jasper!!!) and I support him.

HEADCANONS:

Scars. Being a knight, and seeing and training in combat, Luca has not been able to walk away unscathed. Due to the armor he’s worn in battle, most of his scars come from training, and many are from his early days when he still had much to learn. The most notable one runs along the back of his left arm above his elbow, from when he was shoved into a wall during a sparring match and met a nail that was sticking out of the wood. [Also, this one would depend on Jasper’s mun, but I think it would be interesting for Luca to have a scar that his brother gave to him. It could be they were sparring with swords and Jasper won with the tip of his blade to Luca’s neck. While he would not have killed his brother that day, it could have left a small scar beneath his chin. I just like the idea of it serving as an omen that Luca ignores in favor of noting that his brother was in a position of power over him but chose to do nothing to harm him.]

Religion. Luca believes in the Hundred Eyed God and can often be seen attending ceremonies at the church. He also spends time there volunteering with whatever they may need him to do.

Style. Luca’s style varies from his armor as a knight, which has some gold plating to it to signify his gilded status, to his everyday wear, which often consists of lighter earth tones and whatever cuts of clothing are most stylish. Sometimes, he will wear a vest of chainmail over his tunic, more for style reasons than practical ones. Accessories include a sword (in knightwear it is a longsword with a leather hilt and gold accents, and more casually he carries a shortsword with an intricate golden hilt), a small leather satchel, and a necklace containing a pendant of an eye.

Weapons. Luca has two primary swords (described above) which are his preferred weapons. However, he has also trained and is skilled with a bow and arrow and daggers, though these weapons are not always on his person. CHARACTER:

MBTI. ENFJ, The Protagonist

Enneagram. 2w3

Alignment. Lawful/Neutral Good (he’s on the cusp due to the fact that he does not show unwavering blind loyalty he is loyal instead to causes that are right and just — also literally lawful and neutral differed by one point when I took the test)

Temperament. Sanguine

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

The unfazed. Someone who isn’t charmed by Luca’s reputation. This person could have their reasons for not believing in the same things he does, or they could just be a contrarian who doesn’t see the big deal with him. It’s something that’s rare for Luca to encounter, and sometimes he doesn’t quite know what to do to get certain people on his side, but he will certainly try his hardest.

The grateful. Someone who Luca has helped in the past. This could go in many different directions depending on the character, who may feel indebted, or simply believe in the legend surrounding him even harder. A friendship could have even spawned out of this, and Luca will make it a point to check in on this person if they don’t already see each other often.

The argumentative. Someone who Luca doesn’t quite see eye to eye with. Different from the unfazed in the sense that they may share the same goals with Luca or agree with him on certain things, but the two just can’t seem to agree on how to approach a situation. Maybe one wishes to rush in while the other wants to take their time, or they just completely have opposite plans to solve a certain problem or prioritize involving different risks. There’s much banter that comes from this, and the political bickering may not end when the meeting is over.

The guilt-trip. Someone who Luca feels guilty looking upon. Perhaps this was someone he could not help for whatever reason, or someone (or the family of someone) he came to the aid of when it was too late. Losing anything, even if it’s just a small battle, takes its toll on Luca, who isn’t quite used to failure, and the sight of this person weighs heavy on his heart. Perhaps they resent him for this, or maybe they don’t, but Luca feels an obligation to make it up to them regardless. A fun little exploration in what failure looks like on Luca.

The sparring partner. Someone Luca turns to when Jasper denies his requests to spar (or anything, really). While not someone who turns to violence as a first resort, Luca knows he must keep his performance at a certain level as a knight, and so he practices with this person often. He finds them a pleasant and formidable challenge, regardless of the amount of formal training they have. I think the intricacies and what each person gets out of this really depends on the other character as well!

MORE RAMBLING:

I just wanted to ramble a little about the rest of Luca’s connections!! I already rambled about the Riche brothers who I love so much and I wanted to just go off on how much I love the other dynamics he’s involved in as well. I didn’t wanna make his app all about connections because it’s about him!!! So here’s where the rest of my love for those connections is gonna go:

Romilda. Romilda and Luca just. Ugh they make my heart sing!!! I think there is the potential for someone like Luca, someone so good, to feel lonely at the top when others are just simply not like him or don’t see the world the way he does. But Romilda has always kept him from feeling alone — she is his guiding light and his favorite star in the sky!! I think having someone like them who understands and who just. gets him so intensely is so good for him and helps him feel stronger. Romilda is truly one of the people he cares for the most and I really think he would do just about anything for them and finds himself easily justifying any cause they have. Romilda is truly the person Luca trusts the most and the person he would tell anything to. She would likely be the first person to hear about his dreams (though, I’ll admit he’ll probably try and tell Jasper, but I doubt Jasper will listen, so Romilda is the first person to truly hear about what’s going through his head). I think the age difference between them has also made Luca sometimes see himself as a protector over Romilda. Though he knows she does not need saving now, strong and brilliant in her burning light, he does still look out for her, in spite of any darkness she may not notice encroaching.

Caphriel. This connection just really pulls me in so well! She is his Lorelei, that beautiful mirage upon the rocks. Actually, Lorelei is pretty fitting, though I don’t pretend to control or speak for Caphriel — this beautiful maiden who lost her lover and threw herself to sea, now singing to draw this sailor in — only in this case the sailor is also her lover reincarnated. What they have is nothing short of beautiful. She is, among many things, a selfish desire of a selfless man, and it is in part that reason that Luca finds himself seeking clarity. He cannot know if this love is a blessing or a test from the Hundred Eyed God if he is so completely blinded by it, and as much as it pains him, as impossible as it seems (and it is, for truly Luca cannot resist the cries of anyone who utters his name), he must take that space, he must breathe in air that is not fully saturated with the sweet scent of Caphriel. He also worries he is not the only human she sets her sights upon, because while they both share a love of humanity, he can imagine how deep that love runs within her veins. He wants to know she feels for Luca in every part, not just his mortality. He does not know she has felt for him before.

Jasper. I already talked about the Riche brothers so this is just my little space to say I love Jasper so so much. I want to give him a kiss on the forehead and give him a book. It might be a therapy book but it’s a book and a gift nonetheless.

Samael. I touched on Samael’s role to Luca a little bit but there’s more to it than just the dreams Luca is cursed (or blessed, Luca is definitely not sure which at this time) with. Samael, like Caphriel, is a means to a selfish desire of a selfless man, and I love that there is an angel and a demon Luca has some sort of selfish means towards. Samael is, perhaps, the only one who holds answers, and despite the contempt Luca feels towards him, he doesn’t much desire playing trial and error with the other demons when he knows Samael may be all but dangling the key he seeks in front of his face. I also just love the idea of someone who gets under Luca’s skin when he’s a fairly positive person who values peace over his temper. He tells himself that it is worth it, that he will only receive his answers and then leave the demon alone forever, but even these encounters possibly leave open the tiniest cracks for corruption. After all, his longing for answers suggests a selfish desire, and how can that be ignored in the face of a demon? ANOTHER PARA SAMPLE:

Sun-kissed skin has been drained of its glow. Bright eyes had dimmed in the sadness. The only thing that remained of Luca at this funeral were the rosy shade that blanketed his cheeks, but even they were a false image. The youthful rush of blood to his cheeks was replaced by the heavy pulse of life beneath the skin as the boy cried all the day long. What light the sun could provide behind dark clouds only served to illuminate the tears that ran down his face. He’d long since stopped reaching to wipe them, and the hearts of strangers could not bear to look upon his sadness for too long.

On this day, the day of his father’s funeral, the light had been drained from Luca, a boy born swaddled in the sun, all because of a man he’d barely even known. His father, who had rarely come to visit, had encapsulated the boy’s heart in just those few times that ten-year-old Luca still felt the crushing weight of grief bearing down upon him. Stories of what they would do when he visited next would remain just that, stories. “Your father was a great man,” strangers would say to them as they brushed his limp curls out of his face. Luca nodded, for even if he hadn’t known the man long, he truly believed that. His mother loved him. He loved him. But when Luca felt his mother’s hand squeezing his shoulder, there was something else in her eyes, something else joining the sadness that had plagued her demeanor ever since she hoarsely broke the news to Luca.

“Your father had another son,” she said quietly, bile coating the words she could not even bring herself to sugarcoat, not even for her sweet child. Luca looked up at her quizzically, but she did not meet his gaze for once, her stare looking across the room as her grip tightened upon his shoulder. “He’s going to be living with us.” Luca had never seen his mother not as bright and abundant as the flowers that grew in the garden, and yet, everything in her withered when she spoke of this news. He imagined it was grief, and nothing more, that brought this out as his mother was swallowed up again by the mourning crowd, leaving him alone with just those words for comfort.

Another son. Luca had a brother. It was the type of shocking news that could make any grieving child break on a day like this. To know one’s father was not faithful to their mother. To know there was another receiving the affections meant for them. And yet, this news was what brought the sun out from behind the storm clouds that hid it away. Luca had a brother, another boy just like him, and he could not help but smile softly to himself. He would have someone to walk through this life with, to help him shoulder this grief and tell him stories of their father and be his friend and partner through whatever life decided to throw their way. If Luca was the sun, then his brother must have been a star just as bright. He couldn’t wait to meet him.

Making his way through the crowd, following the direction his mother had once stared so bitterly in, Luca finally believed he spotted him. The boy couldn’t have been much older than he, though the shadows of the tree he stood beneath hid the true answer from Luca. He stood alone, arms over his chest, sniffling as he quietly gazed in the direction of the pyre. Luca wandered over towards him, taking his hand in his own warm grip before the other boy had a chance to react. “It’s okay,” he said, his own voice wavering with the hoarseness that crying brings. “We are brothers in harmony. We’ll do this together.”

______

No brighter could Luca’s smile glow as than it did upon his arrival to the Holy Land. The land was more beautiful than he had ever imagined it would be, lush meadows tickling his grazing fingers in greeting with a river that seemed to babble hello. He could have stayed among this natural beauty for the rest of his days, but then he would have missed the marvels that beckoned to him in the distance. It was practically a utopia, the buildings rising to welcome him as if the city had outstretched arms to embrace him. And if the buildings could not hold him close and whisper welcome home, then the people would, for their heads turned and their eyes sparkled with an eager desire to welcome this man who seemed to bring the sun to their land. 

Luca was not yet the gilded knight of bedtime stories and yearning aspirations, but he certainly held himself like one as he took his time walking through the Holy Land. He wanted to memorize the way each stone felt beneath his feet, the smell of every bakery he passed and the sight of all the different fading colors of brick on each building. He wanted this moment to last. He wanted to know his new home as well as his home already seemed to know him. But he could not stay within its tempting embrace for too long, for training began today, and he would arrive eager and ready and hopefully on time, if he had not spent too long lingering already. 

His steps began to hasten, nearly getting caught up in a loose vine that had lingered in the street, intent on holding him here to enjoy the moment, but he continued on despite it. Luca’s limbs were eager to do what they seemed destined for, running and fighting and pushing himself further than he ever thought his humble life had destined for. But it was more than just what he would get to do when he arrived that drove him forward with a buoyant breeze in his step, it was who he would get to do all of it with.

Jasper stood just as Luca remembers when he first met him. His back rested against a tree though he stood up straight, his stern gaze straight ahead and his arms crossed about his chest. The younger Riche couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his older brother, even if he hadn’t yet noticed his presence in return. There was something about that expression on Jasper’s face that Luca loved about his brother, the constant contemplation so intriguing. Just once, he wished to know what was at work inside that brilliant mind, though he’d long since learned that simply asking would get him nowhere.

“Brother!” Luca called cheerfully, approaching Jasper. The other finally turned to face his brother, and though his expression certainly didn’t look amused (no, it rather resembled a cross between shock and annoyance and fury, in fact), Luca didn’t seem to mind.

“What are you doing here?” Jasper asked, having not been informed of Luca’s decision to come.

“We are brothers in harmony, are we not?” Luca responded, paying no mind to the rolling of Jasper’s eyes in response. It was all the answer he needed to give. He was here to train, just as Jasper was. “Come, let’s do this together.” His hand outstretched towards Jasper, waiting for the other man’s hand to fit into his.

Instead, Jasper simply walked into the crowd of other hopeful fighters. Luca’s hand dropped to his side, and with a shrug, he followed along, as he always would. CHARACTER INSPIRATION

Abel from biblical lore (duh)

Luke Skywalker from Star Wars

Princess Anna from Frozen

Prince Audric from the Empirium trilogy

Captain America from various Marvel iterations

#accepted #accepted: luca

[amphtaminedreams]

Filling the Met Shaped Hole (No, Not Like That): The Best Red Carpet Looks of Awards Season 2020

Hi to anyone reading,

I want to jump straight into things and ask a question. Which is the best Met Gala theme of the last 5 years and why is it Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination?

Seriously though, despite the fact that I’m not sure anything will top Heavenly Bodies with the preceding and succeeding Met Galas being relatively disappointing (the camp theme definitely could have been taken further and lets not even talk about the Comme Des Garcons disaster), I still get excited for the gala every year, staying up til whatever hour of the morning so I can see all the fashion live. Of course, it makes complete sense that this year’s event has been postponed until October given the circumstances but the chosen theme of Fashion and Duration had the potential to be quite interesting, so I hope we do eventually get to see it; whilst I don’t miss endlessly scrolling through photos of every white male celebrity wearing the exact same suit and tie to the point where fangirls claim Harry Styles to be a pioneer of breaking gender norms because he wore a pink top, I long for the days where we could all temporarily coexist in peace and harmony thanks to the internet’s collective dragging of the Kardashians for paying no attention to the theme whatsoever. We should’ve guessed life as we know it was about to be flipped on its head when they actually turned up in something interesting last year.

What I’m trying to say is that I would love nothing more than to jump back in time to when tomorrow morning’s top Google search would be best Met Gala looks, and not how many lives did Boris Johnson’s fuckery cost us today. So in honour of the lack of trivial content, I thought I’d fill the Met shaped hole in our lives (amongst many other unfilled holes; today the freezer door at work hit me on the ass whilst I was putting ice cubes out and I think for a split second I got all flushed) by putting together a collection of my personal favourite red carpet looks from this year’s awards season and their respective afterparties: the BAFTAs, Brits, Critic’s Choice Awards, Golden Globes, Oscars, SAG Awards, and the Grammys to finish with.

Enjoy!

British Academy of Film and Television Arts Award (yes, that’s the BAFTAs but I needed a longer title)

(L-R: Zoe Kravitz in Dior, Rooney Mara in Givenchy, and Scarlett Johansson in Versace)

I am a British fan of television and arts but I will gladly say it: of all the awards ceremonies, the BAFTAs is hardly the most exciting, and the red carpet even less so. As I said, lots of boring men in boring suits and middle aged women being dressed by stylists who seem to think we’re dead from the neck down by the time we hit 40 and dress us accordingly so. Any hint of a décolletage explicitly forbidden.

There were a few good looks, however. From left to right, above we have Zoe Kravitz in Dior, Rooney Mara in Givenchy and Scarlett Johansson in Versace, who looks so amazing I almost forget that 1). Versace is going down the drain and 2). Scarlett Johansson would stand in front of a forest and take the role of a tree if she could. Which, along with her whole defence of Woody Allen, is really shit-she’s genuinely great in Marriage Story and an otherwise talented actress. As for Zoe Kravitz, she is up there with Robert Pattison as one of my biggest crushes right now and looks amazing in literally everything she wears, and Rooney Mara is consistently low-key yet elegantly dressed. 

(L-R: Greta Gerwig in Gucci, Florence Pugh in Dries Van Noten, Renee Zellweger in Prada)

Renee Zellweger proved an exception to the rule when it came to women over the age of 40 generally having clueless stylists-her dress is beautiful, very reminiscent of the delicate, demure beauty of 50s icons such as Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn. Florence’s dress, I actually really loved. It didn’t seem to go down all too well with actual Florence Pugh fans but red and pink together is an elite combo; I’m still firmly on the “surprised that it works but I’m into it” train. I mainly included Greta’s dress for the green velvet, to be honest; it’s disappointingly low-key for Gucci but nice enough all the same.

(L-R: Andrew Scott in Paul Smith, Charlize Theron in Dior, Daisy Ridley in Oscar de la Renta, and Emilia Clarke in Schiaparelli)

I was particularly excited to see Emilia Clarke in Schiaparelli-yes, I adore her because she played Daenerys Targaryen and I was ride or die for that bitch but also whenever I see her interviewed she has the most exuberant energy and honestly I want to be best friends. It’s not the most interesting dress Schiaparelli has ever put out there, but I like the fact that she went for something unique all the same.

Forest green is a colour I find hard to resist which is why I included Andrew Scott’s otherwise kinda basic suit (points for it being velvet) and Daisy Ridley in Oscar de la Renta. As elegant as the dress is, I would love for her stylist to have really leaned into the forest nymph vibes I’m getting and do something a bit less uptight with the hair and makeup; like imagine loose curls with tiny braids and hair rings and a dark lip and a slight smoke around the eye and...yes, I have very specific visions, I know. As for Charlize Theron, her work with Dior is the only reason I care about the brand; there’s definitely a case to be made here for giving Maria Grazia the benefit of the doubt, assuming that she tries all the prototypes on women who look like Charlize and that that’s why she’s happy to send dresses that are otherwise relatively underwhelming down the runway. 

The Brit Awards

(L-R: Charli XCX in Fendi, Ellie Goulding in Koche, Hailee Steinfeld in Fendi, and Harry Styles in Gucci)

In my opinion a much better reflection of quintessential British style than the BAFTAs, I originally ruled out including any music award ceremony red carpets in this post until I saw Maya Jama and Charli XCX’s looks. Consider me pleasantly surprised by Hailee Steinfeld’s cobalt blue burnout dress, a classic incarnation of the regal bohemian aesthetic Fendi channelled in their 2019 haute couture show. Plus Charli’s emo take on Glinda the Good Witch is also Fendi, driving home for me just how much I love their collections. I don’t know if I’d be sure about Ellie Goulding’s dress on the rack but the simple styling makes it work and she looks gorgeous, and Harry Styles looks just as pretty in a Gucci look that is MADE for him.

(L-R: Adwoah Aboah in Vivienne Westwood, Celeste in Gucci on the far right! I’m not sure who the guy in the middle is, I’m sorry and if anybody knows drop me a message and I will correct this immediately!)

Unfortunately, Harry Styles and Celeste didn’t get to pose together because this is really a perfect his and hers Gucci look; I feel like seeing one outfit next to the other would really highlight the quirky elegance of each. That being said, it feels criminal to talk about elegance without including Adwoah Aboah in Vivienne Westwood in the sentence; the dress is obviously stunning quality on its own merit, but Adwoah is what elevates it from unremarkable to ethereal. Fuck the weird ass knight figure that’s currently on top of the Brit Award, this woman is the definition of statuesque! Put her on top of the trophy you cowards!

And just to get it out of the way, when it comes to the guy in the middle, to quote Keke Palmer:

Sorry to this man.

Honestly, I saved all the red carpet photos from a Nylon (I think it was Nylon?) article back when the awards aired and towards the end of the photos they stopped including names-this happened a few times when I was looking through red carpet galleries. I reverse image searched where I could but not every photo turned anything up. If anyone does know who this man is, message me so I can include his name. He looks sick, and as far as suits go, this one is built upon and accessorised enough that it’s actually a look rather than the same old variation of a suit we’ve seen a million times before that may as well be the straight man’s designated red carpet uniform. 

(L-R: Maya Jama, Neh Neh Cherry in Bottega Veneta, Laura Whitmore)

And now the woman that forced me to include the Brits red carpet in this post in the first place: Maya Jama. Don’t get me wrong, my mind isn’t blown by this dress on its own, I probably prefer Laura Whitmore’s (Jaded do a similar newspaper dress and I’ve resisted adding it to my basket for 6 months now, this is the ultimate test of whether or not I finally cave), but Maya looks fucking MAGNIFICENT. The fit, the gloves, the confidence with which she carries it, it’s all SO good. Considering the timing, this is basically her Princess Diana revenge dress levelled up, 2020′s Jessica Rabbit moment. 

(L-R: Maya Jama, Ellie Goulding, Kendall Jenner)

Obviously anything is gonna be a step down from the red carpet look but Maya’s Brits afterparty outfit was cute too, if a tad Pretty Little Thing. 

Don’t ask me what Kendall Jenner was doing at the Brits afterparty btw, because I have no idea. We live in a world where the Kardashian-Jenners just seem to occupy every public space possible and I’ve begrudgingly accepted it at this point. I don’t have the energy to question it-and it helps that green catsuit is actually Very Cool™. 

For the last of my favourite Brit Awards looks, we have a few more afterparty photos-from left to right we have Charli XCX again, Lizzo, and Anne Marie. It was Charli posting her dress on Instagram that sent me searching for afterparty looks in the first place; apparently wearing nothing but feathers and crystals is something that appeals to me, and the more I read that statement, the more it sounds spot-on. I’d categorise it as gothic glamour hoe, and slot it in with the rest of the night-out clothes in my wardrobe that I think I’ll finally have the balls to wear out of sheer desperation once this lockdown is over. The Blossom to Charli XCX’s Buttercup here, we’ve also got Anne Marie looking extra AF and I loveeeee it; it’s an ensemble somewhere between a high-end version of Alaska Thunderfuck’s candyfloss Sugar Ball dress from season 5 of Drag Race (Alaska DID deserve to win AS2 nation, rise up) and a low-key version of a Katy Perry California Dreams Tour costume. I don’t call it low-key as a drag, just a regretful admission of the fact that maybe wearing a cupcake bra which squirts whipped cream out of the boobs is a bit too much for most of us. 

Critic’s Choice Awards

(L-R: Alison Brie in Brandon Maxwell, Chloe Bridges in Azeeza, Cynthia Erivo in Fendi, Florence Pugh in Prada)

I was going to say the Critic’s Choice Awards is kind of America’s version of the BAFTAs but then I remembered that the BAFTAs is really the only big TV and film awards ceremony we have here in the UK and that it’s kind of sad that I have to compare our most high-profile red carpet of the year to L.A’s most low-key one. Getting Cynthia Erivo and Florence Pugh to infiltrate is the best we can do. 

THAT BEING SAID! 

They both look amazing. This is Florence’s best red carpet look of this year, imo (she the prettiest icicle I’ve ever seen), and Cynthia Erivo’s arm must ache from serving the entire awards season. And in Fendi! Taste!

Side note before we move onto the next set of looks: has anybody else watched Alison Brie in Mad Men and Community simultaneously and experienced the extreme cognitive dissonance that comes from watching her play a tragically nerdy (relatable tbh) 18 year old and an overly-sophisticated 30 something married to an ad man in the 60s at the same time? Weird, but anyway! The orange dress with the red lipstick is channelling Marina Diamandis’ Froot era style subtle sex appeal and is a timeless, playful combo. Put the hair up into a beehive and it’s Megan Draper on a date in Cabo-don’t know much about the place but I know the sea is aqua and the sun seekers are blindingly white and the cocktails are plentiful (and whatever colour you want them to be), and all that together is a juicy palette if we’re talking cinematography. The Mad Men directors are out there somewhere shaking their fists at the sky that they never got to consult me on that, I’m sure. 

(L-R: Phoebe Waller-Bridge in Dior, Saoirse Ronan in Erdem and Zendaya in Tom Ford)

Zendaya’s red carpet look was the stand out of the Critic’s Choice Awards for sure; the skirt I can do without but I hope that hot pink metal breastplate ends up on display somewhere because that is ART, and she is the perfect person to wear it. The Tiffany Pollard “she's so powerful” meme was made for this moment. 

Also, can we talk about Phoebe Waller-Bridge backing up my Dior 2019 Haute Couture wasn’t *that* bad hypothesis? Because unless I’m mistaken this is one of the dresses from that collection and it is quite beautiful. Yeah, black mesh isn’t going to start a revolution or anything but it’s so delicate looking it almost seems out of place on a red carpet-I don’t know if it’s the structure of the bodice or the tulle but I can totally see this in a gothic ballet, whether that’s sensible in theory or not. Probably not. But then again I did quit ballet when I was 10 after months of getting people to near poke me in the eye on the way out of class so it would look like I’d been crying and I didn’t have to go to my lessons after school. So what do I know? Fuck all, in case that wasn’t clear. I also feel a little vindicated by Saoirse wearing one of the Erdem dresses I loved from last year’s collection-if multi-award winning actress Saoirse Ronan’s probably ridiculously well-paid stylist liked it enough to pick it out for her then I guess I’m doing okay in terms of taste levels.

(L-R: Olivia Wilde in Valentino, Lucy Hale in Miu Miu, Mandy Moore in Elie Saab, and Margaret Qualley in Chanel)

The last few Critics Choice Awards looks I picked out above aren’t thrilling or anything but they’re cute enough to include-from left to right we have Olivia Wilde in Valentino, Lucy Hale in Miu Miu, Mandy Moore in Elie Saab and Margaret Qualley in Chanel. It’s kind of besides the point, but Margaret worked with Chanel throughout awards season and I just wanted to add my two cents in here and say that I think she’s the perfect person to collaborate with (also think Laura Harrier would be a good match, anyone agree?) and that in a similar vein, I urge Miu Miu, the creative directors of which I’m sure are eagerly awaiting the opinion of irrelevant Tumblr user amphtaminedreams, to work with Lucy Hale more often. I feel like if girl stopped starring in those shitty Blumhouse horrors and did something a bit more sophisticated she’d fit the brand right down to a T.

The Golden Globes

(L-R: Cynthia Erivo in Thom Browne, Dakota Fanning in Dior, Jane Levy in Steven Khalil, and Janina Gavankar in Georges Chakra)

Finally! I hear you cry! A more exciting red carpet! It’s not the Oscars, but celebrity stylists still pulled the big guns for this one, the Golden Globes probably being considered the second most prestigious American awards ceremony of the year. Plus Dakota Fanning was there! Big yay for me! She and Elle can practically do no wrong in my eyes and are probably the only 2 women that could take on Dakota Johnson and Jennifer Lawrence when it comes to established red carpet style. 

Cynthia Erivo did it again, of course, as slick, as dignified and as regal as she was at the Critic’s Choice. The woman really has got this power stance thing locked down; she always seems so cool and confident in everything she wears that the whole getting dressed up to go out out out (we call going to the club going “out out”, but I’d say a red carpet is a slightly bigger deal than my local club with the sticky floors hence the 3rd out) thing looks like second nature.

(L-R: Zoey Deutch in Fendi, Karamo Brown in Grayscale, Lucy Boynton in Louis Vuitton and Kat Graham in Georges Hobeika)

Lucy Boynton was another of my Golden Globes stand outs, and in general is someone who I really look forward to seeing at red carpet events. She (or her stylist, I don’t know how much of a role she plays!) always seems to commit fully to an outfit and sees it as part of a whole concept where the makeup, hair and accessories are equally as important and that is a girl after my own heart. 60s space age empress is the theme here and I’m all about it-well, either that or a feminine editorial take on the tinman from the Wizard of Oz but the former sounds a bit cooler and does way more justice to how good she looks so we’ll go with that. Quick shoutout to Kat Graham too because she looked absolutely radiant. 

(L-R: Shailene Woodley in Balmain, Winnie Harlow in Laquan Smith, and Zoe Kravitz in Saint Laurent)

The trio above I really couldn’t skim over, Winnie Harlow especially; my America’s Next Top Model grudges aside, she consistently turns it out at every event she’s invited to. She’s another woman that wears pieces with such confidence that they look like they were actually made on her body-even if the garment itself isn’t the most breathtaking in the room, she’s the one that draws my attention. Though she’s got these dainty, other-worldly qualities about her, what you’d expect to be a gentle presence is firm and commanding and whilst the sharp drama and glitz of the dress probably helps, that’s just the way Winnie Harlow is naturally, based on her other red carpet appearances. 

Zoe Kravitz is an interesting one because, on the one hand, her looking amazing with that bone structure (I would trade a vital organ to look like that any day) is a given, but it does also seem like she went out of her way to do something a bit different this past awards season. I have always loved her street style for its trademark edge and the androgynous, oversized silhouettes that she leans towards, and the overt femininity of her red carpet dresses is that grungy, skater girl aesthetic completely flipped on its head. It’s cute, and if anyone can pull a dress as kitschy as this off, it’s Zoe. She’s got that just rolled out of bed look we all dream of that screams “I’m over this shit” whereas the rest of us have to rely on dark circles to get the message across. It’s very weird to think that she and Shailene Woodley were in Divergent together, especially since Zoe in particular has changed so much since. 

My main note with Shailene was just that I got excited to see that Balmain dress off the runway-it was one of my favourites from the S/S 2020 collection (IIRC, mostly on the basis that I’m pretty sure it wan’t haute couture), and it looks good! Not wildly good because I’m not sure the fit of the dress is inherently all that flattering, but still good-she makes it work.

(L-R: Taylor Swift in Etro, Sofia Carson in Giambattista Valli and Scarlett Johansson in Vera Wang)

I know a lot of people online didn’t seem to like Taylor Swift’s dress, but she looks cute, imo. I will say that I’m surprised it’s Etro! At first glance I would’ve thought Carolina Herrera or Oscar de la Renta or something along those lines. And predictably, I think Sofia Carson looks flawless. If you’ve read any of my other posts you’re probably sick of hearing it but I really can’t resist anything that is this modern Disney princess, like powder pink layered tulle? Feathers? What did you expect me to say, ew? I think deep down my clothing preferences will always be that of a 9 year old girl and you know what, that’s okay. Sometimes. Well, when it comes to red carpets. That’s when you can kinda get away with it.

(L-R: Bell Powley in Miu Miu, Billy Porter in Alex Vinash, and Charlize Theron in Dior)

There’s a few things worth mentioning when it comes to the above outfits. Firstly, and most importantly, I need to proclaim my love for Billy Porter. No man is doing it like him, honestly. To compare Harry Styles in his pink suits is unfair. The drama and the beauty and the flair that Billy brings every awards ceremony is on another level and that’s all I have to say about that. If you disagree, I’m gonna need a bullet pointed essay-I am that firm in my opinion.

Second, Bell Powley in Miu Miu semi confirms the direction their PR team tend to head in when choosing women to work with. I might be totally alone here but I feel like she and Lucy Hale both have one of those porcelain doll faces which work really well with Miu Miu’s signature girlish silhouettes and overly-ornate details. 

And thirdly, just to restate my earlier point: someone give Charlize Theron a pat on the back for bringing some life to a Dior design. That is all.

(L-R: Jodie Comer in Mary Katrantzou, Joey King in Schiaparelli and Kaitlyn Dever in Valentino)

All the newcomers really turned it out too, which is a sentence I type through gritted teeth; to call Jodie Comer of My Mad Fat Diary origins a newcomer pains the former depressing 2013 black and white Tumblr user in me, though I suppose to the US audiences uncultured in the ways of British teenage angst Vilanelle is her breakthrough role. And how Vilanelle is this dress too!? It’s bold and it’s attention-grabbing and it’s fun and it is definitely very theatrical female fictional villain that you were inexplicably drawn to as a child before you realised why as an adult-”oh, it’s because she was hot”. 

Joey King in Iris van Herpen was a pleasant surprise too considering that when I first looked through the red carpet photos I only knew her as the girl who was in that shitty Netflix original-having watched her in The Act, I apologise for the dismissal! And I admire the sartorial choice! I adore Iris van Herpen designs but as a short girl, wearing one of her dresses to a red carpet event is a risky decision-I hate to admit it because casting a diverse range of people for shows is something I have come to expect of my favourite brands, but the appeal of a lot of IvH pieces comes from the movement of the garments on standard willowy runway models. Fortunately, the styling is really complementary here, and whilst it can’t be denied that the dress itself does swamp her a bit, I liked that she and her stylist stepped out of the box. 

Kaitlyn Dever’s red carpet look is obviously a lot more typical, but you can't go wrong with a Valentino dress, and this one in particular is so suited to the aura she gives off-it’s young and it’s fun and it’s fresh and the intricate floral print, otherwise muted if not for the spring influenced pops of pink and red, is timelessly pretty.

(L-R: Akwafina in Dior, Saoirse Ronan in Celine, Beanie Feldstein in Oscar de la Renta, and Renee Zellweger in Armani)

Lastly, there was Saoirse Ronan in Celine-one of my highlights of the night; she looked phenomenal, a glacial toned dream, and it was pretty different to what I generally expect to see her in. I might be way off base and in need of a bit of a review of her red carpet style, but I feel like she usually leans more towards pretty than edgy with regards to her styling at these kinds of events and a loose fitting, gun metal glittered slip dress is, imo, the perfect way to hit that previously uncharted midway point between the two.

(L-R: Kate Bosworth in Prabal Gurung, Kathryn Newton in Valentino and Sarah Hyland)

Now onto the afterparty looks, and I’m not gonna lie, they’re usually the highlight of the ceremonies for me; I feel like the initial ceremony is all about looking respectful and maintaining that whole dedicated actor image, whereas it seems the literal point of these showbiz parties is a competition to be the best dressed person in the room. Competition really makes people step their game up, and we always get to see more young talent whose style tends to be more current than that of the people we see on the red carpet. 

I’ve got to say, as annoying as I found her character in The Society, I have to overlook that gut instinct of irritation when I see Kathryn Newton and accept how stunning everything going on here is; honestly, she looks like an angel, and I feel like the team at Valentino must reeeeally like her to put her in that dress.

(L-R: Alexa Demie, Ashley Benson in Georges Hobeika, Maude Apatow and Barbie Ferreira)

Obviously I was super excited to see the Euphoria girls on the red carpet, especially Alexa Demie-she does 90s/early noughties inspired glamour better than anyone else on the young actor scene right now and her personal style and the sass she does so well as Maddy Perez shines through every time. Whilst Barbie Ferreira’s look is more casual and achievable for the rest of us in terms of wearability, it’s just as interesting a take on the same period; the delicate pink makeup, hair and jewellery with the 90s inspired slip dress in light teal is a red carpet take on soft grunge for the ages. As for Ashley Benson, she always looks gorgeous and that’s all I’m gonna say before I get emotional and start going into a rant about how her and Cara Delevigne’s relationship was one of the only good things about this shitshow of a year and how now that they’ve broken up the single flame of hope inside me has been extinguished and how their sex swing is gonna get so lonely with them caught in the middle of an ugly custody battle and-

You get the idea.

(L-R: Storm Reid, Sophia Bush in John Paul Ataker, and Sydney Sweeney)

(L-R: Billie Lourd, Paris Hilton, and Camila Morrone)

The Oscars

(L-R: Charlize Theron in Dior, Cynthia Erivo, and Florence Pugh in Louis Vuitton)

Ah, the Oscars. This is where the big money is really spent, and bad decisions are made-in fairness, this year’s winners were a lot more satisfying than usual and I think all of us felt that Parasite was a well-deserved win. I really thought it was gonna be Once Upon a Time in Hollywood just as a bit of a token gesture to Tarantino considering it’s his 9th film, though undoubtedly his worst of the ones I’ve seen, so I was relieved that this wasn’t the case. That being said, it still pains me to see the horror genre being ignored by the academy-in my mind, Florence is here for her performance in Midsommar just as much as Little Women. 

At the risk of getting repetitive, just assume my opinions on Charlize Theron in Dior here are the same again, that Cynthia Erivo is still bringing goddess energy (this is probably my favourite of her looks), and that against the opinion of the masses, Florence looks divine in this colour. I mean, when I say the masses I just mean the people I follow on Twitter, but still, I just wanted be an excuse to be dramatic so that I could insert a meme.

(L-R: Natalie Portman in Dior, Regina King in Versace, Scarlett Johansson in Oscar de la Renta, and Sandra Oh in Elie Saab)

Once again, Scarlett Johansson’s stylist is doing God’s work; this outfit is everythingggg-the Oscar de la Renta dress is probably my favourite thus far. Like we’re talking angel, but make it fitted and sexy, and I hope you read that in the Tyra Banks voice I intended because 2 memes in a row would rob me of any credibility I’m building as a fashion account and I’m not ready to trash that for bad memes just yet; give it a couple of mental breakdowns and I’ll be there. Natalie Portman’s look was a favourite of mine too, with the cape over the top adding a sophisticated touch to the celestial, slightly bohemian feel of the dress. I initially found the detail of the names embroidered into said cape to be quite moving-in a dream world, directing would be my career of choice and so I really admired the statement-but finding out that Portman herself is the only director hired by her own production company ruined that for me a little bit. Then again, multi-millionaire celebrities making performative gestures for good publicity and not doing all that much to make any real change? Colour me shocked.

(L-R: Beanie Feldstein in Miu Miu, Brie Larson in Celine and Billie Eilish in Chanel)

Now, of all the Miu Miu looks so far, I think Beanie Feldstein definitely got the best one. The intricacy of the embroidery, the silhouette, the old Hollywood stye curls-it’s all so graceful. I’d say this is probably her best look of awards season and she and her stylist did a really great job.

And as for Billie Eilish...Guys...do you think she might be wearing...Chanel...by any chance? I’m not sure.

Seriously though, as far as an oversized tweed suit with the brand’s logo emblazoned all over it goes, I like this look. The acid green roots and the jewellery are what make it for me, adding to the grunginess of the outfit which is interesting against Chanel’s prim and proper aesthetic of the last few years. I know she has good reason for the way she dresses, but I’ve never quite been able to appreciate it-this outfit proves to me that her style doesn't automatically equal ugly and occasionally, she can make it work.

(L-R: Leona Lewis, Colton Haynes, Dita von Teese)

Elton John’s Oscars afterparty being the less exciting of the two big ones in terms of fashion-the other being the Vanity Fair afterparty which I’ll cover in a moment-I thought I’d whizz through it (posturing aside though, I bet Sir Elton’s party was a lot more fun).

(L-R: Chiara Ferragni, Donatella Versace, Bella Thorne)

This is a big statement considering Alexa Demie attended, but I think Chiara’s outfit and overall styling might be my favourite of the partygoers; if they decided to do a live action Barbie film in 2020 minus the PG ratio-because lets be real, she’d be a noughties Paris Hilton type and get up to some SHENANIGANS-this is the look that would become iconic. 

(L-R: Ashley Greene in Off-White, Alexa Demie, Sydney Sweeney, Annalynne McCord)

It was a hard decision to make though: I’m just as into Sydney Sweeney’s interpretation of burlesque come 1950s red carpet Barbie, Ashley Greene’s surprisingly delicate Off-White number, and Alexa’s dress and (as always) impeccable styling. That being said, Chiara’s clearest contender here for the best dressed of the night is Annalynne McCord. I know I'm one to throw similes around but she looks like an ACTUAL Disney princess-the dress is magical and an absolutely flawless fit. She carries it with such grace. I'm truly in love.

(L-R: Tessa Thompson in Versace, Vanessa Hudgens in Vera Wang, SZA)

As for the Vanity Fair Oscars afterparty, there were SO many iconic moments this year. SZA was the definition of the fire emoji, Tessa Thompson’s throwback Versace was the mermaid’s take on BDSM fashion I never knew I need to see, and I’d die to turn up to my graduation ceremony (here’s hoping for a successful attempt at the old uni shebang this time, lol) looking as elegant and simultaneously extra as Vanessa Hudgens did in Vera Wang. I mean, this was before Vanessa went on her dumb Instagram live corona rant because she was upset she couldn’t go to Coachella and I still kinda lived for her, mostly because of moments like this. She’s always been the queen of channelling a more hedonistic, carefree era and this dress is the most refined example of that boho decadence yet. It sounds dramatic to say but the rich purple is such a bold choice considering it’s a a colour we rarely see on the red carpet but now I’ve seen eggplant coloured silk I need it, lol. 

(L-R: Suki Waterhouse in Fendi, Lili Reinhart in Marc Jacobs, Lucy Boynton and Margaret Qualley in Chanel)

Then there was Suki, Lilly, Lucy and Margaret as well who all went full angel mode in some of my favourite runway looks of last summer’s haute couture week; Suki’s Fendi dress and Lili’s Marc Jacobs number were highlights of both their shows and there’s something even more magical about them both when the uniformity of the runway is removed. I also would go on about how much I love Lucy Boynton’s style for the millionth time but I think you get my point.

(L-R: Nicole Richie, Cynthia Erivo, Hunter Schafer, Billie Porter)

The more I look at the photos I saved from the Vanity Fair “red” carpet, the more I come to the firm conclusion that these looks are my favourite as a collective. Along with the elegance and sex appeal of the outfits above, we’ve got all these looks too which are so VIBRANT and fun and experimental. Billie Porter is absolutely majestic and continues his reign as the king of in-your-face, theatrical red carpet style, and Hunter and Cynthia look so radiant. Whilst Nicole’s look isn’t as colourful, she still brought drama with the satin gloves and the smoke lined eyes, and she is definitely ready to step on someone’s neck here.

(L-R: Halima Aden, Ella Balinska in Schiaparelli, Emma Roberts, Ciara)

(L-R: Kiki Layne in Michael Kors, Kim Kardashian in Alexander McQueen, Kylie Jenner in Ralph and Russo, Lashana Lynch in Michael Kors)

(L-R: Rowan Blanchard in Iris van Herpen, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, Stella Maxwell, and Sarah Paulson with Holland Taylor)

I’ve got to say, it’s really cool to see Rowan Blanchard in Iris van Herpen too; it’s interesting that as far as I know, she and Joey King were the only ones to wear her this awards season, both being up and coming actresses. It would be a good choice for the brand, probably best known for its futuristic, conceptual aesthetic, to also focus its PR efforts on the young potential inheriting that future. Orrrr it could just be that Rowan, Joey and I have the same (good, lol) taste-not gonna lie, from my experience of stalking her instagram Rowan Blanchard does make some unique fashion choices and her feed is full of bold outfit inspiration.

(L-R: Adriana Lima in Ralph and Russo, Alessandra Ambrosio in Armani, Billie Eilish in Gucci, and Donatella Versace in Versace)

Then there’s Billie Eilish, who is really on another level. This is her second custom made baggy suit of the night, this time Gucci. IMAGINE. Chanel and Gucci making custom pieces to suit your very specific style. Again, though, I really like this; whilst it’s very clearly a Billie outfit, it’s got a level of sophistication, cohesiveness and glamour to it that takes it to that I can admire. 

(L-R: Camila Mendes in Moschino, Barbara Palvin and Dylan Sprouse, and Chiara Ferragni)

Honestly, the Vanity Fair red carpet really belonged to young talent this year, and Camila Mendes in one of my favourite Moschino looks from the Picasso collection really seals it. She could’ve just gone for a basic pretty dress-this isn’t a natural choice-but she really does have the proud, regal look of a woman who knows some man is gonna paint her a portrait that will end up in a famous gallery one day. 

One last thing before I move on, though. How the fuck does Chiara Ferragni get everywhere?! And by that I don’t mean how does she get invited, I had the shock of finding out this woman I followed on Instagram because I liked her outfits and thought she was pretty is a hugely successful businesswoman in Italy long ago. Power to her. She’s a big deal! I get it! I just mean, physically HOW? How do you hit Elton John’s party AND the Vanity Fair party in one night and look this good? God really does have favourites, huh. Well, I guess in this hypothetical scenario where I believe in him anyway. 

The SAG Awards

(L-R: Dakota Fanning in Valentino, Kaitlyn Dever in Ralph Lauren, Scarlett Johansson in Armani, and Zoe Kravitz in Oscar de la Renta)

So, I kinda forgot the SAG awards existed and thought that my post was basically finished before I looked in my folder and saw the one dedicated to this ceremony. My initial reaction was like “oh, this is the shitty Oscars, right?” and I assumed the red carpet would be shit and that I could call it a night-it’s 3:30am, I wish I was calling it a night-but then I looked and saw that I had even more outfit photos saved in that folder than I did for my Oscar dedicated one. Because fuck, I want to to sleep, but the SAG awards had a surprisingly good turn out?! So maybe not as irrelevant a ceremony as I thought? Because Dakota Fanning turned up looking like some divine mythical being again, Scarlett Johansson pulled another incredible look out the bag, Zoe Kravitz was a modernised Audrey Hepburn, and Kaitlyn Dever read my comments about her dress being “timelessly pretty” and said “bitch, you really thought” before showing up looking hot as fuck. Truth be told, I think the SAG awards were first but in this universe where Kaitlyn Dever would pay any attention to my opinion of her outfit do we really care? 

(L-R: America Ferrera, Andrew Scott in Azzaro Couture, Camila Mendes in Ralph and Russo, Caleb McLaughlin )

(L-R: Lupita Nyongo in Louis Vuitton, Lily Allen, Nathalie Emmanuel in Miu Miu, Cynthia Erivo in Schiaparelli)

See, I was going to make a comment above how I took back what I said about Camila Mendes not just going for pretty dresses (which I guess I just did here instead-JUST TO BE CLEAR SHE STILL LOOKS STUNNING) and then I uploaded the next photo set and got distracted by 2 things:

1. How weird it is that British legend Lily Allen, who does not get NEAR enough credit for her smart her songs were might I add, is dating David Harbour AKA. Hopper off Stranger Things!?

2. How mad I still am about Game of Thrones and how dirty the writers did Nathalie Emmanuel (and Emilia Clarke and Lena Heady and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau and basically everyone else on that show but that’s another story).

In this same universe where Kaitlyn Dever cares about my opinion can we make the issues I have in the last bullet point not exist? Please?

(L-R: Sophie Turner in Louis Vuitton, Renee Zellweger in Maison Margiela, Phoebe Waller-Bridge in Armani, and Renee Bargh)

(L-R: Gwendoline Christie in Rick Owens, Madeline Brewer in Monique Lhuillier, Kathryn Newton in Valentino, and Lili Reinhart in Miu Miu)

Finishing off the SAG looks, we’ve got the four above. 

Once again, Kathryn Newton was Valentino’s blushing crown jewell; Allie Pressman hate aside, she really is the perfect dressing up doll for the brand. Fresh faced and poised, she has all the elegance and gentle femininity necessary to make floating down the runway as Valentino models do look natural, and Lili Reinhart did an equally good job being a Miu Miu girl. She makes that idiosyncratic cutesy-ness work, all the frills and fragility of a china tea set look easy where I’d just look like I’d been consumed by a charity shop doily. Madeline Brewer did a good job too, helping a Monique Lhuillier design pop in a way that it doesn’t usually. When your hair is bright red and your dress cerulean blue, coral tinted lipstick is a *ahem* choice, buuut in this case it paid off because the result is a look which demanded my attention-ML dresses are reliably pretty, however, they tend to be predictable. Madeline and her styling did a good job subverting that formula. To end the section, though, I feel it’s only fair to save my fave woman til last-probably one of the few people in the world that isn’t a Rick Owens model that can pull off his designs. Ofc, I’m talking about the queen that is Gwendoline Christie. If we’re talking embodying brands, she did justice like nobody else could to the spectacle of Owens’ formidable, out-of-this-world aesthetic. This is her version of the princess moment, and when you’re as striking as she is, nothing less would do. 

At least my girl Brienne of Tarth is thriving<3

The Grammys

(L-R: Ariana Grande in Giambattista Valli, Cardi B in Mugler, and Pia Mia in Julien Macdonald)

TBH, like I said with the Brits, I never planned to do any music award ceremony red carpets, just because I feel like the fashion tends to be more geared towards a younger audience buuuut I’m kinda glad I changed because Ariana looks INCREDIBLE. MESMERISING. TRANSCENDENT. JFC. There’s a reason the photo of her on her Wiki page has been changed to one from this night and it’s because she looks absolutely exquisite, like some kind of moon goddess with an R&B touch which I suppose is kind of her brand? Sometimes I go kind of lukewarm on Giambattista Valli and forget how mystical but at the same time frothy and indulgent and all around luxurious the pieces can be. This is a cupcake of a dress and I want to eat it. Cardi B has become a bit of an unexpected fashion icon and Pia Mia looks as hot-party-girl as ever but I feel to put anyone next to Ariana in this dress seems harsh because she just completely stole the show and I don’t even know if she won any Grammys.

(L-R: Josephine Relli, Gwen Stefani, Jameela Jamil in Georges Chakra, and Chrissy Teigen in Yanina Couture)

Other than Ariana, I’m not gonna lie, there was nothing wildly exciting, BUT I did think there were some beautiful colours out on the runway-plus for all her occasionally bad takes I really like what Jameela Jamil stands for and her style has always been very quirky cool. The electric blue tiled effect with the black mesh underneath kinda reminds me of a peacock, and contrasts wonderfully with the carpet-it’s very reminiscent of her T4 days. She’s one of those people that seems to get aggression directed at her that’s completely disproportionate to whatever it is she’s supposed to have done; sometimes the way she goes about saying things is wrong but the intention behind what she’s saying is usually good. Then again, the internet still despises Chrissy Teigen (in a way that’s kind of excessive considering what we seem to collectively let some people get away with) for a dumb AirPods tweet and I’ve included her too. THIS IS NOT A POLITICAL STATEMENT, this time anyway. I just think she looks good!

If I’m going to get controversial about anything, it’ll be Gwen Stefani. She looks stunning, the dress is stunning, and the boots are stunning. The outfit is not my problem! My problem is how she seems not to have aged at all. This woman is 50 years old! That she drank the blood of her Harajuku girls is the only explanation here. Can you imagine if she tried to pull that shit today? She’d get rightly accused of being a culturally appropriating weeb in about 10 seconds flat and we’d have to pretend to stop liking Cool and Hollaback Girl. 

(L-R: Finneas O’Connell in Gucci, Lucky Daye, and Shaun Ross)

(L-R: Tess Holliday, Dua Lipa in Alexander Wang, Tyler the Creator, and Grace Elizabeth in Giuseppe di Morabito)

Back to what I’m supposed to be talking about in this blog post: the fashion. And here, most importantly, Tyler the Creator looking like a cast member of the Grand Budapest Hotel. IDK why. But I love this man.

(L-R: Lil Nas X in Versace, Lizzo in Versace, and Shawn Mendes in Louis Vuitton)

(L-R: Billie Porter, FKA Twigs in Ed Marler, and Swae Lee in Giuseppe Zanotti)

See in general, the men were a lot more interesting on the Grammys red carpet. With the exception of Twigs, Dua and obviously Ariana, the men’s outfits are a lot more memorable; Billie Porter became the most fashionable meme on the internet, for god’s sake. And even when their outfits weren’t extravagant, they were just more interesting, imo, which is a rare occurrence. I didn’t expect Finneas O’Connell to be the writing half of Billie Eilish (the other half being Billie herself) I cared about and yet, in that Gucci blazer, here we are. 

(L-R: Jessie J, Hailee Steinfeld, and Madison Beer)

(L-R: H.E.R, Usher, FKA Twigs, and Matt Shultz)

Of the afterparty looks, my favourites are what we can see of these more casual outfits-I love what F.K.A Twigs and H.E.R are wearing, the headscarf with the leatherjacket on top is in particular very throwback rockabilly, and I’m even into whatever it is Usher’s got on.

(L-R: Olivia O’Brien, Amine, and Alrissa)

(L-R: Salem Mitchell, Machine Gun Kelly, and Sydney Sweeney)

Now, how to round this all up!? How to relate the confusingly persistent but very welcome presence of Sydney Sweeney on, like, ALL these red carpets back to the MET!?

IDEK. It’s been a long year. 

The Met Gala has usually come and gone before we know it, but with everything going on, it’s been the longest January-May I think most of us have ever known. I keep going on about COVID-19 in all my posts now but I have almost forgotten how to write an intro and outro because the pandemic is pretty much consistently on the brain and unless I have something right in front of me to use as a distraction, my mind tends to wander off into a very anxious place. I think, like many others, I feel frustrated and disappointed and angry with the way the situation is being handled by the people who are supposed to protect their citizens, and by how much of a fight some are putting up against measures that are in place to try and save lives. The point of this ramble, I guess, is that whilst we should never forget what’s going on and do the best we can to help prevent the spread of the virus, it’s okay to still care about mundane shit. Was this post one big long distraction for me? Probably. But if there’s something harmless you can do to keep your anxiety at bay, don’t feel bad for doing it. Contrary to popular belief, you can care about more than one thing at once. You can be sad that something you were looking forward to has been cancelled whilst still being sad for the people who are suffering because they’ve lost love ones or who have been forced into precarious living conditions. If talking about clothes on the internet is going to help you get through this pandemic, power to you.

If anyone has read til the end, thank you! I hope you are well! As always, feel free to reply to the post or inbox me with your thoughts! It doesn’t even have to be related to this post. If you’re struggling with everything going on, feel free to reach out too. I spend too much time on the internet anyway, lol! My plans are to finish my fashion week reviews and then I have a Lana Del Rey albums inspired lookbook which I pinched off the stans on Twitter (who I will of course credit when I write it!). For the time being, look after yourselves!

Lauren x

#met gala #fashion #high fashion #red carpet #haute couture #dior #chanel #style #style inspiration #fashion review #outfit inspo #designer #pop culture #celebrity #zoe kravitz #brie larson #cardib #ariana grande #film #oscars #award season #beauty #beauty inspiration #armani #runway #dresses #marc jacobs #lili reinhart #miu miu #saoirse ronan

[kelyon]

Trio: A Golden Cuffs Story 5/5: Departure

Jefferson goes home

Read on AO3 here

Belle awoke to the sound of male voices. However, the bed was empty and the voices were not close. She blinked her eyes open and saw that Rumple and Jefferson were sitting in the little chairs by the table. They were fully dressed as they spoke to each other. The windows were dark and the candles were lit. Jefferson had a dish of food in front of him, but he seemed more interested in his conversation.

“Now, Narnia has portals to this world you seek--it’s where their kings and queens come from--but the doors don’t stay open all the time. I could take the hat to Narnia and go out through one of the doors there, but then it might close behind me and not open again for years. I don’t want to be stuck in a land without magic.”

“No, that would be terrible.” Rumple’s voice was distracted. He was thinking.

“Have you tried Neverland? They say the Shadow takes children from every world. He would know how to get to this land.”

“No, I have an enemy in Neverland I’m not strong enough to overcome. I won’t risk losing everything just to gain everything.”

“You have enemies in every realm you send me to.”

“That’s why I send you and don’t go places myself.”

“I’m lucky everyone I meet likes me,” Jefferson chuckled. “But I’ll keep looking for you. There has to be a way.”

“I know of one way. What I need you for is to see if there is another way. A way with a smaller price.” 

Jefferson put his hand over Rumpelstiltskin’s. “I won’t stop trying.”

Rumple put his hand over Jefferson’s. “I know you won’t.”

The conversation lulled and Belle sat up in bed, trying to look like she had just woken up and would never dream of eavesdropping. Rumple saw her and his face brightened. 

“Ah!” He said as he stood up. “Good evening!” He went to the bed and helped her get out. He conjured her robe and wrapped it around her, tying the belt with a pretty bow. “Come and sit with us.”

Belle smiled at Jefferson and knelt on the floor beside Rumpelstiltskin.

“Hello again.” Jefferson took a spoonful of stew. “That’s a lovely kimono.”

She looked down at her robe. “Thank you. It was a gift.”

“I can’t imagine who it was from.”

Rumpelstiltskin ran his hand through her hair.  “How are you, my sweet?”

“Better for having slept,” she said.

“I think I’ll be sleeping for another week once I get home,” Jefferson said with an exaggerated yawn. “I haven’t felt so thoroughly exerted in a very long time.”

“Not to your detriment, I hope?” Rumple grinned. 

“No, not at all. If nothing else, there’s no one else in this world who can serve up gumbo and that is not something I take for granted.” Jefferson stirred the food in his bowl and licked his lips.

“What is that?” Belle asked him.

“Gumbo! It’s a stew from one of our other worlds. The Dark One can replicate it exactly as it was made by the Chef-Queen of Maldonia. A bowl of this has got to be worth at least a quarter of an average human soul.”

“So four bowls of stew and you’re a slave for all eternity?”

“It would be worth it! Queen Tiana is a genius. Would you like to try some?”

Belle looked up at Rumple. “May I?”

“If you stay on your knees.”

Jefferson chuckled, a little nervously, as Belle knelt in front of him. “Dark One, I did want to get home before morning.”

“We won’t keep you. This is for our benefit, not yours.”

Belle put her hand on Jefferson’s knee. “It’s alright,” she told him. “Just give me as much as you think I deserve.”

“Fuck,” he whispered. He looked at Rumple. “And you get her to say things like that every day? How do you do any work at all?”

“She sleeps a lot. And reads. I work while she’s distracted and pleasure her when she needs distracting.”

Jefferson shook his head, smiling. “I cannot wait to tell Leo about all this. But look at me, Belle. Tilt your chin up, open your mouth, please.” He held up a spoonful of stew and put it between her lips.

It was hot. Spicy, acidic. Very good. There was a smokiness to it that she had never tasted before, as if the stew had almost burned before it had been served, but the burning wasn’t an accident. The almost-burntness was a part of what made this gumbo so special.

“Do you like it?” 

“It’s so strange,” she said, licking her lips. “It’s like… like nothing I’ve ever tasted before.”

“Like it’s from another world! I know! Do you want more?”

“Yes, please.”

He fed her spoonfuls of gumbo while Rumpelstiltskin watched. She tasted the different meats and vegetables that made up this otherworldly stew. The taste of onions was familiar, but    she couldn’t identify the other flavors. The green and red vegetables were tasty, but so unusual. On Jefferson’s spoon, Belle saw chunks of sausage and tiny pink creatures. There were funny grains that rolled around on her tongue--like barley, but softer. The broth was thick and flavorful. 

The gumbo was delicious, but the best part of eating it was seeing Rumpelstiltskin out of the corner of her eye. He looked so pleased with her, so proud and so approving. She was a good girl, she could tell. More than that, she was his good girl.

“And with that I am out of gumbo! You ate half a bowl.”  

“So I owe you one-eighth of my soul?”

“Or just promise me you’ll get him to invite me over again sometime.”

“I would like that.” She looked at Rumple. “I think we all had a good time.”

“And not to put ideas into anyone’s head, but I know Leona would be very open to seeing you both again.” 

Rumpelstiltskin stood up. “I should let you get back to her, and your daughter.”

“Yes, I’m sure the kid is driving Leo up a wall by now.” Jefferson stood and helped Belle to her feet. 

They walked down to the dining room. Belle and Jefferson were side by side now, with Rumple trailing behind them. Jefferson held his hat under his arm. 

“How old is your daughter?” Belle asked as they stepped into the dining room.

“She’ll be nine in the spring, when the lilacs bloom.”

“And what did you say her name was?” Rumpelstiltskin asked.

“Well, I never did say,” Jefferson said a little archly. “But only because you’ve never asked before. Some people wouldn’t  like the idea of giving the name of their first-born child to the Dark One. But I am not some people.  Her name is Grace.”

“Grace.” Rumplestiltskin raised his hands like a blessing. “A curse on all that would harm her.” He lowered his hands, clapped them together in front of him. “Treasure her, Jefferson. Children are gone too soon.”

“I will,” he said. “I do.”

“If I were less greedy, I might even regret calling you away from your family.”

“For this? Have no regrets! I am always happy to be at your service, Dark One.”

“Still, I ought to compensate them for the loss of you.” 

“There’s no need.” Jefferson put his hand on Rumple’s arm below the shoulder. “I don’t come at a price,” he said sincerely. 

“But I must give you something.” Rumple was equally serious.

Jefferson sighed and stepped away. “Of course you must, Dark One. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

Rumpelstiltskin held out a pendant on a length of  golden thread. “For your daughter. The charm will keep her from getting lost.”

Jefferson took the necklace and put it in the pocket closest to his heart. 

“And for your wife.” It was another necklace, a braid of pearls connecting two golden roses. There were three colors of pearls--white, black, and pink. Belle realized at once what those pearls were made of, but she forced herself not to let it show on her face.

From Jefferson’s expression, he had a pretty good idea of the true nature of the necklace. But he took it without hesitation and admired it. “Leo will love this,” he smiled. “I thank you on her behalf.”

“Women who can stomach men like us deserve all the riches we can give them. Treasure your love.”

Jefferson nudged Rumpelstiltskin in the ribs with his elbow. “I’ll treasure my love if you treasure yours, eh?”

Rumple turned to him, his head tilted to the side in honest confusion. “What?”

Jefferson also looked perplexed. “I mean…” He looked back and forth between Rumpelstiltskin and Belle.  “I meant…” He gave up. “I mean, Belle, it was wonderful to get to know you better. If you ever have need of a realm-jumper, I am your man.” 

He turned to Rumple. “I am always at your service for any task. I thank you for your hospitality and your generosity.” He took the pearls made of their pleasure and put them in his pocket. He held out his hat in a graceful bow to both of them. “Until we meet again!”

He tossed the hat spinning to the ground. The portal opened and Jefferson vanished into the swirling magic. 

For a moment after Jefferson left, Belle and Rumpelstiltskin stood side by side in silence. They stared at the floor where the portal had been. Then, Belle sank to her knees to kiss his boots.

He looked down at her. “Do you want something?”

“No,” she said simply, honestly. “I’m just happy to belong to you again. To you and you alone.”

Rumple didn’t respond to that, but he rocked on his heels. His step was spritely as he made his way to his chair at the table.

He hadn’t given her an order, but Belle crawled after him on her hands and knees. She would have kissed his boots again, but he sat with his feet propped up on the tabletop. 

“Now then, my dear, pour me a cup of tea.”

His voice was brisk and businesslike, but Belle could hear the pleasure in it. He liked owning her, as much as she liked being owned by him. Jefferson was a diversion, and a pleasant one. But Belle knew both of them were glad to go back to it just being the two of them. It was right, for there to be no one else in the world but them. 

The cuffs pulled Belle up off the ground and she hurried to bring her master his tea.

#trio #a Golden Cuffs story #rumbelle #jumbelle #mad gold beauty

[mindthump]

Language supermodel: How GPT-3 is quietly ushering in the A.I. revolution https://ift.tt/3mAgOO1

OpenAI

OpenAI’s GPT-2 text-generating algorithm was once considered too dangerous to release. Then it got released — and the world kept on turning.

In retrospect, the comparatively small GPT-2 language model (a puny 1.5 billion parameters) looks paltry next to its sequel, GPT-3, which boasts a massive 175 billion parameters, was trained on 45 TB of text data, and cost a reported $12 million (at least) to build.

“Our perspective, and our take back then, was to have a staged release, which was like, initially, you release the smaller model and you wait and see what happens,” Sandhini Agarwal, an A.I. policy researcher for OpenAI told Digital Trends. “If things look good, then you release the next size of model. The reason we took that approach is because this is, honestly, [not just uncharted waters for us, but it’s also] uncharted waters for the entire world.”

Jump forward to the present day, nine months after GPT-3’s release last summer, and it’s powering upward of 300 applications while generating a massive 4.5 billion words per day. Seeded with only the first few sentences of a document, it’s able to generate seemingly endless more text in the same style — even including fictitious quotes.

Is it going to destroy the world? Based on past history, almost certainly not. But it is making some game-changing applications of A.I. possible, all while posing some very profound questions along the way.

What is it good for? Absolutely everything

Recently, Francis Jervis, the founder of a startup called Augrented, used GPT-3 to help people struggling with their rent to write letters negotiating rent discounts. “I’d describe the use case here as ‘style transfer,'” Jervis told Digital Trends. “[It takes in] bullet points, which don’t even have to be in perfect English, and [outputs] two to three sentences in formal language.”

Powered by this ultra-powerful language model, Jervis’s tool allows renters to describe their situation and the reason they need a discounted settlement. “Just enter a couple of words about why you lost income, and in a few seconds you’ll get a suggested persuasive, formal paragraph to add to your letter,” the company claims.

This is just the tip of the iceberg. When Aditya Joshi, a machine learning scientist and former Amazon Web Services engineer, first came across GPT-3, he was so blown away by what he saw that he set up a website, www.gpt3examples.com, to keep track of the best ones.

“Shortly after OpenAI announced their API, developers started tweeting impressive demos of applications built using GPT-3,” he told Digital Trends. “They were astonishingly good. I built [my website] to make it easy for the community to find these examples and discover creative ways of using GPT-3 to solve problems in their own domain.”

Fully interactive synthetic personas with GPT-3 and https://t.co/ZPdnEqR0Hn ????

They know who they are, where they worked, who their boss is, and so much more. This is not your father&#39;s bot… pic.twitter.com/kt4AtgYHZL

— Tyler Lastovich (@tylerlastovich) August 18, 2020

Joshi points to several demos that really made an impact on him. One, a layout generator, renders a functional layout by generating JavaScript code from a simple text description. Want a button that says “subscribe” in the shape of a watermelon? Fancy some banner text with a series of buttons the colors of the rainbow? Just explain them in basic text, and Sharif Shameem’s layout generator will write the code for you. Another, a GPT-3 based search engine created by Paras Chopra, can turn any written query into an answer and a URL link for providing more information. Another, the inverse of Francis Jervis’ by Michael Tefula, translates legal documents into plain English. Yet another, by Raphaël Millière, writes philosophical essays. And one other, by Gwern Branwen, can generate creative fiction.

“I did not expect a single language model to perform so well on such a diverse range of tasks, from language translation and generation to text summarization and entity extraction,” Joshi said. “In one of my own experiments, I used GPT-3 to predict chemical combustion reactions, and it did so surprisingly well.”

More where that came from

The transformative uses of GPT-3 don’t end there, either. Computer scientist Tyler Lastovich has used GPT-3 to create fake people, including backstory, who can then be interacted with via text. Meanwhile, Andrew Mayne has shown that GPT-3 can be used to turn movie titles into emojis. Nick Walton, chief technology officer of Latitude, the studio behind GPT-generated text adventure game AI Dungeon recently did the same to see if it could turn longer strings of text description into emoji. And Copy.ai, a startup that builds copywriting tools with GPT-3, is tapping the model for all it’s worth, with a monthly recurring revenue of $67,000 as of March — and a recent $2.9 million funding round.

“Definitely, there was surprise and a lot of awe in terms of the creativity people have used GPT-3 for,” Sandhini Agarwal, an A.I. policy researcher for OpenAI told Digital Trends. “So many use cases are just so creative, and in domains that even I had not foreseen, it would have much knowledge about. That’s interesting to see. But that being said, GPT-3 — and this whole direction of research that OpenAI pursued — was very much with the hope that this would give us an A.I. model that was more general-purpose. The whole point of a general-purpose A.I. model is [that it would be] one model that could like do all these different A.I. tasks.”

Many of the projects highlight one of the big value-adds of GPT-3: The lack of training it requires. Machine learning has been transformative in all sorts of ways over the past couple of decades. But machine learning requires a large number of training examples to be able to output correct answers. GPT-3, on the other hand, has a “few shot ability” that allows it to be taught to do something with only a small handful of examples.

Plausible bull***t

GPT-3 is highly impressive. But it poses challenges too. Some of these relate to cost: For high-volume services like chatbots, which could benefit from GPT-3’s magic, the tool might be too pricey to use. (A single message could cost 6 cents which, while not exactly bank-breaking, certainly adds up.)

Others relate to its widespread availability, meaning that it’s likely going to be tough to build a startup exclusively around since fierce competition will likely drive down margins.

Christina Morillo/Pexels

Another is the lack of memory; its context window runs a little under 2,000 words at a time before, like Guy Pierce’s character in the movie Memento, its memory is reset. “This significantly limits the length of text it can generate, roughly to a short paragraph per request,” Lastovich said. “Practically speaking, this means that it is unable to generate long documents while still remembering what happened at the beginning.”

Perhaps the most notable challenge, however, also relates to its biggest strength: Its confabulation abilities. Confabulation is a term frequently used by doctors to describe the way in which some people with memory issues are able to fabricate information that appears initially convincing, but which doesn’t necessarily stand up to scrutiny upon closer inspection. GPT-3’s ability to confabulate is, depending upon the context, a strength and a weakness. For creative projects, it can be great, allowing it to riff on themes without concern for anything as mundane as truth. For other projects, it can be trickier.

Francis Jervis of Augrented refers to GPT-3’s ability to “generate plausible bullshit.” Nick Walton of AI Dungeon said: “GPT-3 is very good at writing creative text that seems like it could have been written by a human … One of its weaknesses, though, is that it can often write like it’s very confident — even if it has no idea what the answer to a question is.”

Back in the Chinese Room

In this regard, GPT-3 returns us to the familiar ground of John Searle’s Chinese Room. In 1980, Searle, a philosopher, published one of the best-known A.I. thought experiments, focused on the topic of “understanding.” The Chinese Room asks us to imagine a person locked in a room with a mass of writing in a language that they do not understand. All they recognize are abstract symbols. The room also contains a set of rules that show how one set of symbols corresponds with another. Given a series of questions to answer, the room’s occupant must match question symbols with answer symbols. After repeating this task many times, they become adept at performing it — even though they have no clue what either set of symbols means, merely that one corresponds to the other.

GPT-3 is a world away from the kinds of linguistic A.I. that existed at the time Searle was writing. However, the question of understanding is as thorny as ever.

“This is a very controversial domain of questioning, as I’m sure you’re aware, because there’s so many differing opinions on whether, in general, language models … would ever have [true] understanding,” said OpenAI’s Sandhini Agarwal. “If you ask me about GPT-3 right now, it performs very well sometimes, but not very well at other times. There is this randomness in a way about how meaningful the output might seem to you. Sometimes you might be wowed by the output, and sometimes the output will just be nonsensical. Given that, right now in my opinion … GPT-3 doesn’t appear to have understanding.”

An added twist on the Chinese Room experiment today is that GPT-3 is not programmed at every step by a small team of researchers. It’s a massive model that’s been trained on an enormous dataset consisting of, well, the internet. This means that it can pick up inferences and biases that might be encoded into text found online. You’ve heard the expression that you’re an average of the five people you surround yourself with? Well, GPT-3 was trained on almost unfathomable amounts of text data from multiple sources, including books, Wikipedia, and other articles. From this, it learns to predict the next word in any sequence by scouring its training data to see word combinations used before. This can have unintended consequences.

Feeding the stochastic parrots

This challenge with large language models was first highlighted in a groundbreaking paper on the subject of so-called stochastic parrots. A stochastic parrot — a term coined by the authors, who included among their ranks the former co-lead of Google’s ethical A.I. team, Timnit Gebru — refers to a large language model that “haphazardly [stitches] together sequences of linguistic forms it has observed in its vast training data, according to probabilistic information about how they combine, but without any reference to meaning.”

“Having been trained on a big portion of the internet, it’s important to acknowledge that it will carry some of its biases,” Albert Gozzi, another GPT-3 user, told Digital Trends. “I know the OpenAI team is working hard on mitigating this in a few different ways, but I’d expect this to be an issue for [some] time to come.”

OpenAI’s countermeasures to defend against bias include a toxicity filter, which filters out certain language or topics. OpenAI is also working on ways to integrate human feedback in order to be able to specify which areas not to stray into. In addition, the team controls access to the tool so that certain negative uses of the tool will not be granted access.

“One of the reasons perhaps you haven’t seen like too many of these malicious users is because we do have an intensive review process internally,” Agarwal said. “The way we work is that every time you want to use GPT-3 in a product that would actually be deployed, you have to go through a process where a team — like, a team of humans — actually reviews how you want to use it. …  Then, based on making sure that it is not something malicious, you will be granted access.”

Some of this is challenging, however — not least because bias isn’t always a clear-cut case of using certain words. Jervis notes that, at times, his GPT-3 rent messages can “tend towards stereotypical gender [or] class assumptions.” Left unattended, it might assume the subject’s gender identity on a rent letter, based on their family role or job. This may not be the most grievous example of A.I. bias, but it highlights what happens when large amounts of data are ingested and then probabilistically reassembled in a language model.

“Bias and the potential for explicit returns absolutely exist and require effort from developers to avoid,” Tyler Lastovich said. “OpenAI does flag potentially toxic results, but ultimately it does add a liability customers have to think hard about before putting the model into production. A specifically difficult edge case to develop around is the model’s propensity to lie — as it has no concept of true or false information.”

Language models and the future of A.I.

Nine months after its debut, GPT-3 is certainly living up to its billing as a game changer. What once was purely potential has shown itself to be potential realized. The number of intriguing use cases for GPT-3 highlights how a text-generating A.I. is a whole lot more versatile than that description might suggest.

Not that it’s the new kid on the block these days. Earlier this year, GPT-3 was overtaken as the biggest language model. Google Brain debuted a new language model with some 1.6 trillion parameters, making it nine times the size of OpenAI’s offering. Nor is this likely to be the end of the road for language models. These are extremely powerful tools — with the potential to be transformative to society, potentially for better and for worse.

Challenges certainly exist with these technologies, and they’re ones that companies like OpenAI, independent researchers, and others, must continue to address. But taken as a whole, it’s hard to argue that language models are not turning to be one of the most interesting and important frontiers of artificial intelligence research.

Who would’ve thought text generators could be so profoundly important? Welcome to the future of artificial intelligence.

#IFTTT #Feedly #good to know #tech #hmmm #TIL #science #future

[girlbookwrm]

Avengers: Age of Art Movie? ART?? MOVIE

DAY ONE

the title for this chapter of the Mighty Pre-Endgame Rewatch comes from the fact that Joss Whedon apparently said, of Age of Ultron: 

“I was trying to make a little art movie. Which is actually, a pretty shitty thing to do to a studio that gives you a lot of money.”

which??? ok?????

so we went into this looking for Joss Whedon’s Art Movie

It’s worth noting before we get into this that I’m a fan of a lot of things Joss Whedon has done over the years, as much as I give him crap sometimes, and actually, I don’t know that I hate this movie as much as is common. I enjoyed it more than I remember enjoying it in the past? I go back and forth. I saw it in theaters and was like “actually I like this it’s pretty ok” and then I saw it again like “OH NO THIS IS AWFUL” and then again like “OH NO IT’S EVEN WORSE THAN I REMEMBER” and now I’m watching it again like “actually......” and I think it’s that the quality is very. uneven? 

it is also worth noting that it took us TWO DAYS to watch this because we kept having to pause the movie  in order to GO OFF which meant that this 2 hour 22 minute movie took us like SIX HOURS to watch. at first it was just me and The Roommate @goteamwin but on Day Two the Gal Pal @pegasuschick joined us.

anyway on with the rewatch (day one)

I STILL MISS THE OLD MARVEL LOGO! SO MUCH!

So the opening shot of this movie is from the twins’ POV and this was the first point that we paused the movie to fully Go Off because goddamn

can you imagine how much better this battle scene would be from the twins’ pov?

like: there’s all these explosions and shaky cam and a monster roaring and you’re like “oh god is it aliens? it must be aliens? and these soldiers dying everywhere and the city is getting destroyed etc etc

and then you realize it’s not aliens, it’s not HYDRA, it’s not some terrible overpowered terrorists

it’s the Avengers.

now THAT would be an art film

anyway back to the rewatch

Steve Rogers: IT IS 2015, I AM NINETY SEVEN YEARS OLD AND I AM STILL FIGHTING NAZIS I AM T I R E D

this is all looking real fake it has not aged well and it wasn’t that great to start with

“they’re the avengers” he said, sounding so confused and so so tired

aaaaaand here we paused the movie AGAIN to talk for twenty minutes, mostly about how if this whole “”’”art movie”’’’’’’’ had been shot from the Twins perspective, that would have been a better set up for Civil War and also super interesting

“We are here to help” why is the Iron Legion speaking Very American English in an eastern? european? city

Old Man Dad Clint

there’s two weirdly different movies happening here and they do not sit well together: like, a dark spooky serious one and a quippy Joss Whedon action movie

and don’t get me wrong, one of my favorite things about Joss Whedon is how he uses humor to really give his sad moments Extra Punch he’s a master of that

but this is just jarring

“please be a secret door please be a secret door” followed by the world’s tiniest and most adorable “~yay~” is the most endearing thing Tony has ever done in his life I would die for him

The Problem Is Not Brucetasha. 

THE PROBLEM is that the BruceTasha dynamic doesn’t just come out of left field, it comes from a different sport entirely. it comes from another planet. 

I think there’s potential for an interesting dynamic here but we get ZERO buildup to it

like in the last movie, Natasha is scared of the Hulk, like, literally shaking in shock TERRIFIED of the Hulk, but we see nothing of her deciding to run directly at the thing that scares her most

and we get ZERO explanation of like -- Natasha likes Bruce AND the Hulk, and Bruce AND the Hulk both like Natasha and that’s an interesting dynamic too, but we get NONE OF THAT

it’s very frustrating

also, where does Wanda’s horror movie aesthetic go? is it the same place her accent goes?

Tony’s dream sequence is... p badly shot, given that it’s his driving motivation for THE REST OF THE SERIES

Me: this is weirdly shot, right?

The Roommate, A Professional: Yes. *in a very fancy voice:* ~From a cinematic perspective~ 

Me: *starts cracking up*

The Roommate: But seriously, they’ve gone for a weirdly wide angle in this very emotional moment and it would make more sense to do tight shots here, but--

Me: *still cracking up*

The Roommate: really?

Me: ~from a cinematic perspective~ trolololol

AND LITERALLY HERE IS WHERE WE GET THE TITLE CARD. THAT’S HOW LONG, SPIRITUALLY, THIS OPENING IS.

Why was Bruce NOT expecting a Code Green? like? It’s HYDRA, of COURSE they’re gonna pull out all the stops??

We get like two minutes of Thor&Steve&Tony being bros, for the purpose of exposition here, and then the party sequence, and literally the rest of the movie is them all arguing with each other

and we stopped the movie again to talk for ten minutes about how much more Impactful AVENGERS: CIVIL WAR would be if we had even one (1) movie of the Avengers actually being a team

this is exactly why it took us two days to watch this movie

“Uh, actually, he's the boss. I just pay for everything, and design everything and make everyone look cooler.”

And again, we stopped the movie (seriously, it’s our own fault this took so long to watch) because LET’S UNPACK THIS

TONY PAYS FOR EVERYTHING?

TONY MAKES ALL THEIR SHIT?

TONY DOES THEIR DESIGN WORK?

AND LET US NOT FORGET THAT SHIELD RECENTLY FELL APART

WHICH MEANS THAT THIS IS STARK INDUSTRIES PRESENTS: the avengers

and that is A L A R M I N G

legally speaking

and also morally speaking

like goddamn. 

no wonder ppl freak out about it? let’s jump on THAT for CW

(also, when we recapped this for the Gal Pal’s benefit on Day Two, she pointed out that Tony puts his name on everything and he probably got that from his daddy -- like in TFA, they’re doing this experiment for the Army but LITERALLY EVERY PIECE OF EQUIPMENT has the Stark Industries tag on it

Steve probably has the SI logo tattooed on his ass

he doesn’t know it

tony knows it 

and wishes he didn’t)

all that aside, this is an A+ On Point Steve and i Strongly Disagree with anyone who says that Joss Whedon doesn’t get Steve Rogers.

Like, we very clearly get three distinct Steves in this movie -- we get Captain America, Captain Rogers, and Steve, and they’re all a little different but they’re also all perfectly executed and they’re all STEVE. eg:

the look that he gives Maria, like english please and then after her explanation he says “well they’re going to show up again.” - Captain Rogers.

“Right. What kind of monster would let a German scientist experiment on them to protect their country” - Steve

“They are.” - Captain America

let’s just. let’s just acknowledge that Thanos had a stone. in his possession. and he gave it away. to L O K I.

“I'm going to live forever” 

ah geeze he actually is tho

*CLINT FEELS*

They talk about AI like it’s this Great Forbidden Thing, and the Roommate looks at me with the Tiredest Eyes

Everyone is working on artificial intelligence, she says.

e v e r y o n e

seriously “the man was not meant to meddle medley” is a very impressive tongue twister that Tony definitely practiced in the mirror that morning

but it’s also nonsense

the military, corporations, academia, everyone -- everyone is working on AI.

Ultron: What is this. What is this, please.

The Roommate: Me. Every morning.

Also, it’s worth noting that when Ultron goes through all the files on the Avengers and shit, he looks at Steve AT LEAST twice. 

The Roommate: To be fair, so would I.

RIGHT RHODES IS THE REAL HERO OF THIS FILM

“Where are the ladies,” said Maria Hill, a Known Lesbian. 

Sam and Steve’s whole everything is A+ Great, as usual

Rhodey’s face after everyone laughs at the “Boom, you looking for this” line is just

*kissy chef fingers*

and then this happens

the “flirting”

this is the weirdest “flirting” i have ever seen

it’s like the uncanny valley of cute flirting

it’s like they’re both actors pretending to be characters who are acting out something they’ve only ever seen in film

why is it like this

“What Are Your Intentions Towards My Daughter?” - Steve Rogers

no I kid

Captain America said that

Steve said “as maybe the world’s leading authority on “waiting too long”, don’t.”

and then suddenly they’re all teens hanging out in their dad’s basement

honestly this scene is the best scene in the movie, possibly the franchise, and it’s well worth all the bullshit we’ve put up with so far.

let’s also take a moment to pour one out for both Steve and Thor’s #looks in this scene because

goddamn

Steve and that blue button down

Thor and his hoe v-neck + pop collar maroon jacket

much fashion very hnnnngh

like it takes WORK to make these two look better with their shirts ON but you did it, AoU costume department. You Did It.

Also, James Spader as Ultron is just

i love it

gurl u r LEAKING

u CHOSE this body

u could have taken any iron legion body, you probably could’ve taken a SUIT if you wanted but instead you’re here in this janky ass leaking melty faced body with wires hanging every which way and the arms and legs on backwards

you are such a drama queen

truly his father’s son

so when Tony pulls out JARVIS’ broken corpse, how were they all supposed to know this was JARVIS? do they all get to meet Jarvis at some point? like at what point was Captain America introduced to the holograph representation of JARVIS’ “body” that he just IMMEDIATELY knows that this abstract yellow humpty dumpty is JARVIS

Team Dr. Cho Was Underutilized 2k15

Tony laughing because he’s about to be in so much trouble is very much a #mood

We can bust arms dealers all the live long day, but, that up there? That's...that's the end game.

I’m just going to present this bad phone picture of my notes because I feel like it does a better job summing up how I feel about this line:

remember when Wanda had an accent?

I’d say “good times” but I’m not sure they really were

seriously the Maximoffs have a great origin story this should’ve been theirs and Clint’s movie that would’ve been better

God Bless The AoU Costume Department

I have no idea what happened in this scene because of Steve’s smedium shirt

and that said he has to compete, visually, with Cobie Smulders in a sheath dress, and he does so with effortless grace

*distinguished golf clapping*

I actually really like the set up of Wakanda and Vibranium here it’s just nice and it gives all the background we need without really feeling like exposition and it reveals character dynamic between steve and tony it’s just nice is all

SALVAGE YARD AFRICAN COAST

Andy Serkis giving 112% AS USUAL

So Ultron steps into this scene like

and tbh it is a sexy leg good work Ultron

“I’M NOT MY DAD” -Ultron, definitely in Denial

Pietro talking to Tony in this scene like Tony was personally there when the bomb blew up his family and almost killed him and his sister

he wasn’t

u r drax in this scenario, and Tony is Ronan

he doesn’t remember ur family, dude

“pretending you could live without a war”

are we just going to ignore that Ultron gets inside Steve’s head right here right now and then Wanda exacerbates that 200%

and Steve just decides “yup that sounds right”

“i guess I’ll just be at war for the rest of my unnaturally long long life”

is anyone? going to talk about that? bring it up to him maybe?

no? 

coooooool coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool

i just ~love~ (and by love i mean HATE) that natasha romanoff (A SPY) decided to upgrade her suit (HER BLACK STEALTH SUIT) with glowing (GLOWING!) stripes

much stealth very in character wow 

(negative 200 points costume department what the hell)

pietro don’t hit senior citizens that’s rude

these dreams are actually totally fascinating and I really like them don’t @ me they’re great

“I Am Mighty.”

“only the breakable ones. You are made of marble”

“We can go home. Imagine it”

aaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“Natasha, I could really use a lullaby”

natasha isn’t here right now please leave a message after the beepbeep

this is such a fucking nightmare, could be a callback to that opening fight scene IF IT SUCKED LESS

Tony. Your green son has a special need. maybe instead of trying to turn him back into Bruce, you should try to accommodate his needs. because he’s special.

Clint MacDonald Had A Farm

“These are... Smaller agents.”

“Sorry For Barging In.”

Captain America is here from the 40s and Ready To Apologize

Thor’s Extremely Dramatic Exit

Steve: looks at the house

(very softly in the background, Peggy’s “we can go home.”)

The Roommate: nuuuuuuuuuuuuuu steve don’t think thaaaaaaaat

I honestly love Old Dad Clint. *shrug* sorry not sorry

and now we’re here. at That Scene. 

YOU KNOW WHICH ONE.

it makes no FUCKING sense for EITHER OF THEM to be having THIS CONVERSATION at THIS TIME. SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK.

Honestly, the only way this makes sense is if Bruce and Nat are both ace af and think the other one is allo af 

just two hopeless asexual babies, adorably in love with each other

both of them awkwardly being like “BUT. YOU WANT THE SEX. RIGHT?” 

and neither of them realizing that the other one also does not want the sex

that’s the only way the scene makes any kind of sense. If Natasha is putting on a performance and Bruce is too and neither of them realize that the other is putting on a performance

BUT EVEN THAT DOES NOT EXPLAIN WHY NATASHA FEELS THE NEED TO BRING UP HER UTERUS

LIKE

THERE’S NO NEED FOR IT IN THIS CONVERSATION

AND THE WAY SHE BRINGS IT UP IS B I Z A R R E 

and when i saw it in theaters, I was like “oh clearly this scene is missing some important dialogue that clarifies that Nat doesn’t mean she’s a monster for not being able to have kids.

BUT I WAS WRONG.

UGH ANYWAY MOVING ON.

god bless the AoU costume department for Steve in a Smedium shirt and Dad Jeans. A+ work i can almost forgive you for putting glowing neon on Nat’s stealth suit

but honestly the whole rest of this movie is worth it this one interaction:

Tony: Isn't that the mission? Isn't that the "why" we fight, so we can end the fight, so we get to go home?

Steve:

Captain America: *externally* something something end a war something something people die something something

Steve: *internally* I SWEAR TO FUCK IF ONE MORE PERSON TELLS ME THEY WANT TO GO HOME, IMMA MCFREAKING LOSE IT.

YOU WANT TO GO HOME?? Y O U WANT TO GO HOME??? B I T C H

oh hey Tony ur dad is here

“watched my friends die” ok but 

a) are you and Steve friends?

b) if this has been eating at you, why wasn’t it shot better ~from a cinematic perspective~ and why don’t we get more of you being haunted by it and less of you talking about reinstating prima nocta

Actually this is a good time to talk for a hot second about Why We Don’t Hate AoU As Much As Some:

it’s very hard to judge AoU as a standalone film

because a lot of the things it does best are not standalone

it does a good job setting the stage for Civil War

it does a good job foreshadowing Infinity War and Endgame 

and on that note, it’s actually hard to judge it without having seen Endgame

it does a BAD job setting up the Avengers as a cohesive unit that works well together

it does a BAD job building the BruceNat dynamic

it does a BAD job making us believe that the Avengers are actually friends and not just coworkers who tolerate each other and sometimes hang out and drunkenly try to pick up thor’s hammer

that isn’t friendship, actually. you know what friendship is? look at Steve and Sam talking about Important Things That Matter, look at Tony and Rhodes’ dynamic. those are friendships.

anyway

The Roommate says it feels like AoU skipped some steps. Like, Avengers (2012) brought us in at the ground floor of this building and then we got shoved into one of those really fast elevators and dumped directly into some game changer meeting happening on floor 44 and then it kicked us directly out the window to our deaths

i’m maybe elaborating slightly upon what she said

the point is that AoU is not a good movie because it’s not a good standalone movie

the character dynamics aren’t Bad or Wrong they’re just not properly built up to. 

It feels like we missed a movie

maybe there’s an alternate universe where we got an Avengers 2 that made sense, and this is actually Avengers 3

maybe we just need to find Joss Whedon’s secret file of fanfiction and then everything that happened in this movie will make sense

ALL THAT SAID, THIS IS WHERE WE STOPPED THE MOVIE ON DAY ONE AND MY FINGERS ARE TIRED SO THIS IS WHERE I’M STOPPING TOO. AGE OF ART MOVIE DAY 2 WILL BE UP WHEN I FIND THE ENERGY TO DO THAT.

#the mighty pre endgame rewatch #age of ultron #avengers

[bounnostra]

dead leaves O crisis O grand hell trial O r.e: everyone

It all came crashing down shortly afterwards, of course. 

Well. Why shouldn’t it? It was hardly the type of conversation you could just drop in as lightly as you could discuss the weather outside. 

Didn’t make anything easier, though. 

“...Did you guys... even listen. To anything I said. Thought you knew me by now.” 

Her voting card turned over and over in her hand, the world’s worst stress ball as it crumpled and folded underneath her restless fingers. Idly, Bams wondered if she could rip it in half. 

(Keep moving, keep moving, keep moving- all those memories packed up in a box finally toppling off the shelf she put them on so long ago-) 

It wasn’t quite with that previous flat, empty look that Bams lifted her head again. If previous questions had cracked the dam, the most recent outburst from Moss had all but thrown a wrecking ball against it: first her teeth gritting as Moss’ words about her theories grew more and more manic, then her expression straining at the absolute understandable blowout against her character. Her free hand massaged a temple, as though her biggest worry right now could be a headache even as a couple of blinks sent the emotion streaming. No flinch in pain imagining the brutal image regarding her teeth, just... a little bit of water, really.

“...You two were in a gang together last time, you know. You and [Rookie]. If... memory serves, anyway. You act like... this is what I hoped for, though. Can’t control being put in this position. Sorry for trying for [Rookie] so hard. His... the outside connections and his situation. You see why I had to try. And I... really did mean the sympathy to it. [Orwell], too. And [Runa]... to be honest, it’s not that special. I’ve never been exactly sunshine and optimism. Even before I got involved in this mess.”

(Because it was memories blurring together and overlapping a dead Runa on a dead Runa- just enough details to not need to pause but not quite enough to stop it being uncanny-)

Scourge was next in the circle, though they weren’t afforded too much time; just a flash of an expression to match their own tired one, and a simple:

“[Claire] already told you that. Forget about the mole. They've never been that important.”

Blink. Blink. Water streamed down her face, but she remained deadpan; unnoticing. 

Her gaze swept round to Seattle next, card folding over and over in her hand picking up the pace; teeth gritting again, but otherwise managing that steady tone. More or less.

“You’re going to call me out for not wanting to be vague when I’ve never known how to hold back a word or five? I... didn’t know that you’d definitely been given one of my old names. Is it so suspicious that I wanted to know. Right, though. That stupid painting. Surprised that thing even carried over so far, where it was. I’ll give you that, since so much effort got put into that shitshow of a building to find it. It’s me sitting down. Much better outfit than this one, honestly. Took away so much of my coverup this round. Once again I’m being picked on, huh.” 

Valerio did manage to break half of a wry smile out of Bams with ‘Grand Batman’, but it was a ghost of the usual one. Maverick, too, though it may have barely counted for freezing the attempt at a smile on her face too; buffering his takedown of her words before there came one, simple robotic statement.

(Because it was sitting down with those who’d been killed as though nothing had ever happened- trying not to superimpose the image-)

“I just wanted to help you solve this. Right here. Hello.”

So she moves on. Her gaze can’t quite complete a full smooth sweep around the circle, hurrying over from Amita to- well, she wasn’t going to make herself look up to her roommate, but something pierced: enough to freeze the constant turning of her voting card.

“What... benefit would I..?” 

It was akin to a child cheering to be allowed to go buy a toy but never expecting to actually make it inside the store; a student turning to a full page question they hadn’t studied for. Bams’ mind was able to be seen going blank through her eyes, mouth gaping just a little bit at the enormity of the answer space before her- and when she did respond, her monotone had been replaced by a very ‘work in progress’ spacing of her words. 

“...I think I would just. Like the chance to be able to live as myself, now..? No pressure. No being contained. No being used. Or I... could ask for a PC fix, I guess. Maybe if Gamb can revive the dead over and over he can... defrag my hard drive, or something...”

It was a ghost of Bams’ usual kind of snarky tangent, no heart in the lame answer to Orwell’s question. Something else mercifully triggered her buffering mind instead, and she tipped her head to look over at Duck. 

“Did you think Gamb just lets you all live on merrily until we hit reset when someone wins. Gamb already hinted why we need to be put on trial way back in our first time in a room like this. If the Don isn’t voted for, they win. Everyone else loses. The Don was playing for a picked prize and looking to trash you all in the process, as... as nice as all this about ‘just trying to help’ is. You all got me cornered very neatly though, so that's over. It's upsetting.”

Speaking of.

...She couldn’t avoid it forever. 

“...I tried so hard to not let it be real for you.”

And there was the crack: Bams’ voice splintering in the middle of her first reply to Ana and never quite picking back up into its usual volume. 

(Because it was checking that Orwell wasn’t home before screaming into a pillow after a Valentine that promised a better one on the outside-)

“Back at the beginning. I knew your fate. I knew my fate. We’d end up here, and that was that. The Don would win, and you’d get reset. Didn’t... expect it to get so pointed, but. Rock and a hard place. I don’t know how long you’ve been here, it... it all blurs together, by a point...”

Her blinks got faster, but Bams made no effort to stop. 

“I’m sorry, [Ana]. I’m sorry you got dragged into all that grief because of- because of the mole’s fuck ups. I’m sorry I just let you talk at me so much about this when I didn’t have any choice to directly respond. When we weren’t talking about this stuff, I... I can’t say I didn’t. Get invested. This is... everything I said that wasn’t related to this place, I meant. I swear. I swear.”

The card finally slipped out of her hand as they dropped to her side in defeat, balling into fists as the image of herself gently landed face down on the table.

“...Please. You’re... you’re good at these mysteries. Apologising probably... means nothing. I get that. But... keep thinking.” 

#boun #ch5 #trial #obama #submission