#also yeah the movie had its emotional 'life is good growing old is beautiful' moments but i don't feel things so that doesn't do shit for m | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jeonqqin · 4 years

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to the moon. [m]

h. jisung x reader | pregnancy au

— ❝Becoming a young mother was never your intention. But you had Jisung there with you, so it all really seemed like it would be okay.❞

WORD COUNT: 5k

CONTAINS: light smut, angst, movie spoilers(???), description of pregnancy/surgery, complications

WARNING: very mild smut, pregnancy sex, do not read if easily triggered by death and/or surgery

A/N: hope you enjoy my first blurb :)

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

Never once did you think you’d get pregnant so soon in life. With a belly bump that pushed against even the loosest of your sweaters, and more emotions than you knew what to do with. But after the initial shock of it all, you actually grew excited. A baby was growing inside of you, and for whatever reason, that made you feel so damn happy. Your boyfriend had to take some time to come around to the idea of being a dad at nineteen years old, but he too grew to love the little tot that made your belly round.

At three months pregnant, Jisung insisted on reading books out loud, convinced that the baby could hear him and knew the sound of daddy’s voice. So, every night before the two of you went to sleep, he opened up whatever book was on hand—it really didn’t matter what it was—and read until you fell asleep against him. It was more difficult when he was on tour, considering you were more emotional than usual and prone to outbursts that you never really meant. While traveling, he was often in a different time-zone, so he couldn’t really call at regular times, and when he did have any spare time, he’d use it to eat and sleep. You were frustrated, to say the least. But you pulled through. Thankfully one of the other members of Stray Kids—Chan, you suspected—came up with the voice memo idea. Jisung ended up sending you recordings of him just talking about nothing at all, and you’d play every new one when you woke up or when you had time.

“Hello little one, it’s your daddy. I really can’t wait to see you, so please hurry out, okay?”

You laughed, rubbing your palm over your stomach. “Don’t listen to him. Please take your time…”

“Mommy and I are ready to take such good care of you—oh, and all of your crazy uncles, of course—”

“You’re the only crazy one of us, Sungie!”

“Ah, don’t listen to him, baby. Like I said, they’re crazy.”

You smiled fondly down at your phone as you continued to listen to the boys all bicker back and forth. They really were still kids.

“Ah, shi—daddy’s got to go! Take care of mommy for me and don’t cause her too much trouble while I’m gone! Bye, my loves, I’ll see you both soon.”

And you never told Jisung, but you’d play their music out loud as you did little domestic things around the apartment. Usually, you played their upbeat music when you were doing chores; songs like Gone Days, Awkward Silence and Get Cool. But on nights you missed Jisung, you played their pretty songs. Neverending Story and Mixtape: On Track, were the baby’s favorites, you found. You swore you felt the baby kick every time, and soon came to the conclusion that Jisung was right and the baby did know daddy’s voice.

The little guy seemed to like Seungmin’s parts too—and that was also a detail you wouldn’t mention to Jisung.

At four months pregnant, you began to really crave some strange things; from peanut butter in every form, to literally slicing and eating lemons like they were oranges. Jisung put up with all of it and proved to be the perfect father and boyfriend by following every craving with you and giving up everything you couldn’t eat. You’d heard stories about husbands promising to give up alcohol and deli meats for their wives but quickly copping out after the first week—not Jisung. He stuck with you and kept going no matter how hard it was to eat a lemon with breakfast every morning. He was a determined father, and it brought you to tears one night when Stray Kids were going out to celebrate their comeback with drinks, but Jisung declined to tend to you for the night.

“Baby, wha—why are you crying, sweetheart?”

You held your face in your hands as you shook your head, doing the best you could to direct the conversation away from you. He was doing so much for you and just giving you everything you could want, but you couldn’t even listen to him for three minutes without your body giving you some sort of hell.

“I’m okay, Sungie. Just the hormones.” You sniffed, wiping at all the tears that fell down your cheeks in an attempt to stop them, but to no avail.

Jisung hummed, scooting a little closer to you on the couch. You were wearing one of his sweatshirts, which had been turning into a more common occurrence as you got more round, but he loved it. There would be no complaints on his end. It just made you look so much more soft and fluffy to him—that and the fact that you were carrying his child inside of your tummy. He was really loving the whole father thing more and more as time passed.

“Okay, baby. Come here then.” He cooed softly, pulling you into him and wrapping a blanket around the both of you. “Take a nap, for now, let it pass.”

He was really so good.

“I love you.”

He smiled, placing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Five months pregnant, you didn’t expect to be so horny. You were less queasy, and according to your doctor, “there was an increased amount of blood flow to your genitals.” She had said it was normal to have sex during your second trimester of pregnancy, but no matter how much you tried to convince Jisung to just fuck you he was too convinced that he’d hurt the baby somehow. And your pregnant mind decided to play a fun little game on you called, Let’s Make Y/n Insecure. So as Jisung was at the studio, you watched some sad movies and cried. Of course, it was a common activity you took part in when Jisung was gone, but it was a little different due to your newfound self deprecating thoughts. You were getting bigger and it did not make you feel sexy in any shape or form, and Jisung—someone that was so much of a horndog before your pregnancy that he would jump at the opportunity to get his dick wet at any given point in time—didn’t even want to have sex with you when you asked? It led you to believe that he didn’t think you were pretty anymore. And you ended up asking yourself, what if he was going to other girls at the company to meet his needs? Deep down, you knew he would never do such a thing to you, but you were still young and supposed to be in your prime, and your boyfriend didn’t want you. It freaked you out.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” Jisung called from the front door, but you didn’t answer, instead, you just shoveled some more ice cream into your mouth as you watched the scene on t.v play out. Jisung frowned, placing the takeout he brought with him on the table. “Baby? You awake?”

His eyes met your form when he walked into your shared bedroom, confusion lacing his gaze. But you didn’t acknowledge him, even when he moved to sit next to you, you just continued to glare at the t.v.

“Baby, look at me,” he said, delicately cupping your cheek, but you jerked your head away. “What did I do wrong, Y/n?”

You sighed, turning to him frustratedly. “Why don’t you want to have sex with me, Jisung? Is it because of my belly? Am I not sexy anymore? Do you want to fuck other girls instead?” You threw questions at him as he stared at you with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. When he remained silent, you turned back to the movie on the screen with glassy eyes, god damn your emotions.

He panicked. “No! No, no, of course not, sweetheart!” He quickly moved to tug you into his arms, placing a soft kiss to your lips. “You’re the only one I want, and the only one I’ll ever want. Sex right now is just…”

“Gross? Weird?” You scoffed.

“Not something I thought we could do.” He confessed with a red face. “Believe it or not I’ve never gotten a girl pregnant before, and I don’t really know what precautions we need to take. The last thing I want to do is hurt either of you.”

You melted into his touch, your feeling of insecurity disappearing. “Sungie, you won’t hurt me or the baby. The doctor had specifically told me that sex was fine, she said it was normal at this point of pregnancy.”

You had to hold back a laugh as his eyes lit up immediately. “Really? It won’t hurt our baby?”

“No, Sungie.” You smiled with a giggle, kissing his lips. “Our baby will be fine.”

Suddenly, Jisung was hoisting you onto his lap with a surprising amount of strength. You could feel just how eager he was through his pants, and it brought you back to the days when you and Jisung were in such a position nearly every day. It was exciting. He groaned low in his throat as you rolled your hips against his hardening member.

“Shit, how could you think that I didn’t want to fuck you, baby? All cute with my baby in your belly.” He sighed, running his hand up your small bump and stopping on your breasts. You moaned; high and whiny due to the sensitivity of your nipples. “And your gorgeous tits.”

“Ji, I missed your hands, baby.” You whined, rubbing your palms over his hard chest.

Jisung hummed, dipping his hands under your sweater to touch your warm skin. “Yeah? You like when I touch you like this, sweetheart?”

“So much.”

“Good,” he said, rutting up against you. “Now move those cute hips for me, baby.”

In your sixth month pregnant, Jisung finally brought you over to the dorm to see the boys—or more importantly, for the boys to see you. You really were glowing; Jisung had never seen someone so beautiful in his life. With your plump belly in all its glory, the boys were ecstatic to finally see you. Jisung had held it off originally because he was nervous of their opinion and didn’t want to put you in that position—of course, he knew they wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or your feelings, but there was always that one doubt that left him hesitant. Of course, he realized how ridiculous he had been the moment you walked through the dorm doors.

Changbin and Chan had immediately tugged you to the couch as carefully as possible—even going as far as offering to carry you. But you denied with a laugh, walking to the couch just fine on your own.

“But thank you, boys.” You had squeezed their hands with a smile and nearly sent them into cardiac arrest.

“Is she only cuter because she’s pregnant?” Minho had whispered. “Is that a thing?”

Jeongin made a noise of discomfort. “I think that’s weird of you to say, Hyung.”

Throughout the evening all of the boys had stepped up to care for you; Changbin had massaged your shoulders as Hyunjin and Felix dutifully moved around the dorm to collect every pillow and blanket in sight to make a little nest around you, and Seungmin and Jeongin conversed with you while Minho and Chan were busy in the kitchen making dinner. It was a bit of a mess, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Hyunjin cooed over your baby bump as you ran your hand over it. “So, Y/n, have you decided—”

There was a sudden kick under your palm, causing you to jump with a small surprised “oh” leaving your lips.

The boys surrounding you looked at your stomach with awe, Jisung laughing at their bewildered faces. “It’s like you guys have never seen a pregnant woman before.”

You smiled. “Do you want to feel?”

And there was suddenly seven pairs of hands groping your stomach. It certainly was entertaining to watch them argue over who felt the kick and who was “the baby’s favorite”. They might have all been a little off their rocker, but at least you had your village to help raise your baby.

At seven months you finally decided to come up with names. Jisung expressed several times that it was his favorite part, and he had been looking forward to it for weeks. Of course, the two of you had briefly talked about the gender and names but came to the conclusion that you wanted it to be a surprise and the name thing you’d just deal with later. Well, when you finally went to Jisung to talk about names, you concluded that Jisung’s father would go through the process of finalizing the name—to respect the tradition in their family—and the two of you would pick the name yourselves. Thankfully, Jisung’s parents had been very accepting of everything so far, his mother just excited to see her grandchild and his father proud of his son for stepping up to take care of you properly.

“What about Soo—something? Or Seo? Han Soo-hyuk? Han Soo-hyun? Or just Han Soo-hun?” Jisung rambled, looking at the ceiling as you cuddled into his side. It was late at night, and neither of you could sleep, so it seemed to be a good time to talk about mindless things. “What do you think, baby?”

You hummed. “I like Soo-hyun for a boy, it’s pretty.”

Jisung smiled as he ran his palm against your belly. “And for a girl? Any ideas?”

“Eun-jin is cute. I like Ye-sung too.”

“What about Ji-hyun?”

“Han Ji-hyun.” You smiled, stroking his cheek. “Yeah, I really like that one.”

On your eighth month of pregnancy, your food cravings shifted over to movie cravings. For some strange reason, you had the urge to watch every Disney and Pixar movie you could get your hands on. It was a flashback to childhood for sure, and you’d just spend days watching Disney princesses until Jisung got home and encouraged you to go for a walk with him for some exercise. Jisung himself was convinced it was all in your head and the baby fever was just hitting you extra hard, but he never once complained. He just sat back in bed with you and watched every movie that you put on.

“How about Beauty and the Beast?” You asked, scrolling through the countless amount of movies on the screen.

“Y/n, we literally watched that last week.” Whined Changbin from the foot of the bed, his legs kicking up behind him like a child. “I don’t want to sit through another session of you pointing at the screen and saying, omg that little cup looks just like Jeonginnie!—OW.”

He reeled back away from Hyunjin’s swinging arm. “You’re just upset that she called you Gaston’s tiny sidekick, knowing full well that you are.”

“At least I wasn’t compared to a gay-ass candlestick.”

You giggled as the boys bickered, all of them throwing comments about how their assigned characters were better than the others, even Jisung chimed in how “unfair” it was that Chan got to be the beast and he was stuck being compared to Gaston.

“Well, it’s pretty true, Sungie.” You cooed, stroking his cheek. “Chan’s way more of a prince type.”

Chan winked cheekily at his friend from his place on the floor.

“It doesn’t matter who’s who—” Seungmin started.

“—you can’t say shit, clock-boy—”

“—just pick another movie,” Seungmin said, raising his middle finger towards Changbin.

So you settled on the movie Inside Out, a cute Pixar film with lots of colorful characters that caught your eye. None of you had seen it, so it was an easy decision. But it still hadn’t stopped you from dubbing each boy as a respectable character every five minutes.

“Oh my god,” you gaped as the character that called himself Bing Bong. “Jisung, that is you.”

The room erupted into laughter at your words, Minho even going as far as falling off the end of the bed. Jisung looked at you with an open mouth, in utter shock.

“Him?! The fat pink elephant? You think I look like a fat pink elephant?”

“She’s right! You do look like that guy!” Seungmin snorted through his laugh, falling into Jeongin for support.

“He’s just goofy, baby. It reminds me of you.”

For the majority of the movie after that, Jisung pouted, his head resting against your chest. Your boyfriend really acted like a child at points, and his dynamic personality only made you love him more. So, every time he huffed, you just giggled and ran your fingers through his hair exactly how he liked. But strangely enough, he started to get too committed to the movie to pout, his eyes never leaving the screen as the scenes became more intense.

Especially when the so-called “fat pink elephant” sacrificed himself to save the main character from being forgotten forever. Unfortunately, you were already an emotional wreck, so it didn’t take much for you to break down, but as the sound of sniffles filled the room, you figured the rest of the boys were in the same boat. And the damn Bing Bong guy was like Jisung—the most loyal person you knew, positive even the hardest of times, and too selfless for his own good. The love of your life was more than just self-sacrificing; he’d give everything up for his family.

“Go save Riley!”

The room fell silent for only a second, everyone holding their breath as the inevitable played out. Jisung held you closer with glassy eyes, his cheek unknowingly pressing harder against your breasts. From the corner of your eye, you saw Hyunjin cling to Felix like Velcro, the two holding each other close as they watched the screen. And there was Seungmin and Changbin at the end of the bed, their legs tangled together and their intertwined hands discreetly tucked between them. Chan’s fingers were threaded in Jeongin’s hair as the younger leaned against their leader’s legs, and Minho smiled at the screen softly, his eyes holding something both sad and happy as he watched the movie. You smiled too, tears slowly covering your cheeks.

“Take her to the moon for me, okay?”

You pressed a small kiss to your boyfriend’s forehead as you felt him let out a brief sob against your chest.

For the first time of your pregnancy, you felt comfortable looking around at your crazy little family and thinking, “yeah, your baby was going to be just fine”.

To say that everyone was ready for you to go into labor early would’ve been a complete lie. Everyone was ready for you to go to the hospital on time, so Jisung obviously reacted with a little panic when you announced that your water broke and a rough pain settled in your side. He was quick to your side, his phone already pressed to his ear as he directed you to sit down—whatever fluid that got on the couch be damned. He called his parents, shouting that you were in labor and needed to go to the hospital, so they quickly responded and told him they’d be there in five minutes. So then he called Chan to spit out the news—and the speed that his words left his mouth could’ve competed with the pace of his raps—before hoping his friend had been able to decipher his words and hanging up. Of course, everything afterward went to plan—you were screaming in pain while Jisung held your hand in his while his parents drove you both to the hospital. But you did just as the doctors told you; you pushed and pushed, Jisung still gripped onto your hand, albeit you both looked pale as hell, but you were able to push one last time and see your baby—your baby girl.

“Congratulations mom and dad, it’s a beautiful little girl.”

She was carefully placed in your arms, and god you knew then and there that you would endure another nine months of torture for your daughter in a heartbeat. She was beautiful.

Jisung lifted his palm to caress the small head of your daughter, he had tears shining in his eyes as he looked at his two worlds in front of him. “Baby, look at her. She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

You smiled with heavy eyes. “Our little girl.” Despite all the energy having been zapped out of you and the killer cramps, you couldn’t look away. “She has your eyes, Sungie…”

Jisung felt a tear drop down his cheek as he laughed. “She sure does. And your lips, and Chan’s eyebrows, and Minho’s nose, and Jeongin’s little dimples, and Felix’s cheeks, thank god she doesn’t look like Changbin—oh wait.”

You laughed, resting your head against his. “Our little family.”

“Han Ji-hyun.”

“Yeah,” you smiled, feeling consciousness slowly slip away from you. “I really like that name, Sungie—”

Your eyes then slipped shut, and Jisung frowned, immediately holding your cheek in his hand. “Hey, sweetheart, what—?” But he was interrupted by a low groan that left your lips, your body twisting in a way that suddenly brought panic to the staff in the room. Slowly the heart-rate monitor’s beeping became incessant and rang louder in his ears as the nurses in the room called for a doctor, taking the newborn from your arms. Suddenly, the room was filled with a chaos that Jisung couldn’t keep up with.

“The patient just had a seizure, get her on a breathing tube immediately.”

“Get it down her throat—”

“Is it eclampsia or HELLP syndrome?”

“There’s no time to take the tests, doctor. Her liver has inflamed at a rapid pace.”

“Get magnesium sulfate in her IV now!”

“Baby?” Jisung whispered, tugging your hand into his as nurses attempted to usher him out of the room. “Baby, open your eyes and look at me, please—”

“Sir, we need you to—”

“Tell me what’s wrong with her!”

But they pushed on. “You need to leave the room, sir.”

You cried out as another convulsion wracked through your weak body, and Jisung felt his heart shatter at the sight. His hand reached out to grip your hand, feeling your shaky fingers intertwine with his as you released a whimper. You were looking paler and paler by the second, doctors and nurses rushing around doing things that Jisung could never even guess, but he didn’t care. You were the only thing he had his sights on.

“S-Sungie,” you choked like you were freezing, your lips quivering. “Our baby—where’s my baby? What happened to my baby?” You yelled, pushing violently against the hands of the doctors.

Jisung felt wetness on his cheeks. “Baby, she’s fine. Our baby’s fine, sweetheart.” He lifted your clammy hand to his lips. He was helpless as the nurses attempted to guide him away from you, all he could do was watch as you struggled and fought hysterically. “Come on, Y/n. Please come back to me, sweetheart…”

You shrieked in pain once again as you thrashed in a doctor's hold, nonsense about them taking your baby was spilling from your lips.

“Induce her!”

Jisung’s eyes widened as a nurse pushed past him, quickly injecting something into your IV. It physically hurt him to watch as you slowly fell limp against the hospital bed, your eyes lazily gazing at him.

“Y/n?” His voice was shaking, he knew. “Please baby—”

“Sungie.” You sighed, your fingers twitching in his grip and your head lolling to the side. “You saw her right?”

Jisung nodded, raising your hand to his face, moving your palm to cup his cheek. “She’s beautiful, sweetheart. Our baby is so beautiful.” He smiled.

Your eyelids dropped as you hummed. “Please, Sungie—” You had to peel your eyes back open, looking at the man you fell in love with, with a smile. He had been so good to you, even before you found out that you were carrying his baby. Maybe you were just kids, but you knew you loved him, and you knew he loved you. And there was no doubt in your mind that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. Your sweet little girl could become anything she wanted, and you wanted to watch that. Surely with a family like yours, she would thrive in a loving environment, and there would never be a moment where she would be unloved. With your boys there for her—with Jisung there for her, you knew she’d be just fine. You wanted to watch him grow with Stray Kids, while your child grew beside them. Maybe you still could. “Look at me.”

Jisung’s lip wobbled as he looked up from your interlocked fingers. Your hands were too cold.

So you inhaled deeply as unconsciousness slowly took over and waves of nausea pounded against your head. But you pushed through to look at Jisung—the man you knew would give your baby girl a life to be excited to live. “Take her to the moon for me, Sungie.”

Never once did Jisung think he’d be a dad so soon in life. With a pregnant girlfriend that played his songs for their baby to hear and stole his clothes on the daily. But after the initial shock of it all, he grew excited. He was going to start a family with a woman he’d loved, and no matter how much he thought about the consequences, he was the happiest man alive. Granted, he had to take some time to come around to the idea of being a dad at nineteen years old, but he too, grew to love both the woman bearing his child and the baby inside.

At three years old, Han Ji-hyun looked just like her mother. Precious in every way, shape, and form. Stray Kids looked after her like they were her own parents; uncles in the strangest forms. Chan wasn’t afraid to take her to his studio when it was his turn to watch her, because somehow she knew not to make a sound when he was working. Minho stepped in as Ji-hyun’s mother figure—making her meals, cleaning her up, and simply teaching her about the little things in life. Changbin was the most hesitant to find a role in the little girl’s life, but eventually, he became her favorite uncle in terms of how he showed his love. Hyunjin took her everywhere he could go, solely because he knew how much you liked to see places and found the similar trait in Ji-hyun. Felix was her best friend in the world and she was his, and he didn’t care about what anyone thought of their relationship. Seungmin taught her life lessons every child needed to learn, like how to use the bathroom on her own, how to write her name, how to ride a bike, and countless other things. Jeongin—surprisingly enough—acted as her protector; nothing was going to harm Ji-hyun while Jeongin was alive and he swore to that the day she was born. But they’d all give anything for their precious girl.

Just how you did.

Jisung was her father—and an amazing one at that. Ji-hyun was a daddy’s girl from the very beginning, never once wanting to leave his side. He wanted to do exactly what you wished for, because he wasn’t one to hold grudges or muddle over things for too long, and as your last wish of him, there was no way he’d deny the love of his life anything. Ji-hyun was his whole world. And it didn’t hurt to see you every time he looked at her. Jisung was happy to have a part of you with him, and he knew that you would’ve never wanted it any other way. You were so strong, it baffled him. Ji-hyun was just the same.

“Daddy, can you put on mommy’s movie?”

Jisung was caught off-guard when he looked up from his laptop to see his three year old still up and not in bed. It was way past her bedtime and he knew she’d be tired in the morning, but the way she looked at him made him weak. He sighed. “Get in bed.”

Ji-hyun giggled as she climbed onto Jisung’s large bed, nearly being swallowed by all the blankets. Jisung smiled at her excitement, peeling off his jacket and shoes before taking a seat next to her. Immediately, she crawled into his arms, her head resting on his chest.

By the age of three, Ji-hyun knew all the words to Inside Out by heart. It was a movie she associated with her mother and went to it for comfort at times. So did Jisung, if he was being honest.

She pointed at the screen. “There’s mommy.”

Jisung smiled as his daughter pointed towards the blue-haired character—Joy. And he couldn’t help but agree. “There’s mommy.”

Absentmindedly, Jisung toyed with the engagement ring that sat, snug around his ring finger. It was a beautiful ring, one that confused most people that saw it. The ring was in fact, yours. You just never got the chance to see it, since he had kept in his pocket for nine months too long—never able to ask.

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logically-asexual · 3 years

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okay i'm already procrastinating and i don't plan on sleeping any time soon so here we go.

☆ ✩ my personal ranking for every season 1 Sanders Sides episode. ✩ ☆

i think it's going to be pretty similar to @dukeofonions' but let's see if i find something new to contribute haha. i see you didn't include that one about Patton in the Big Game or whatever, so i'm not including it either xd. also i think i'm going to count Accepting Anxiety as one episode only.

edit: i finished and now i dare you to drink a shot of water every time i say the word spanish or a version of the word comfort and become very well hydrated.

#16 I'm in a Disney Show

(i agree with dukeofonions here) i always forget this episode exists. it was ok in terms of being happy for real life Thomas but as a Sanders Sides episode it didn't do anything. the sides were just giving their opinions but it wasn't very funny or interesting. also i'm bitter because it made me look up the episode he was in and i didn't like it at all. i don't know if i'm too old for those Disney shows now but Thomas was literally the only good part of it, everything else was really dull and boring imo. a waste of time.

however, Logan supporting clickbait is one of the funniest things ever, and i'll never forget it.

#15 Becoming A Cartoon

i didn't hate this episode but it was just .. meh.. you know? several factors contribute to this. one, i couldn't feel much nostalgia for Butch Hartman's shows because i watched them in Spanish, and everything feels really weird when they speak English, i don't like how my old cartoons sound in English. two, it was disappointing to me because we were all desperately waiting for Plot™ and instead they give us this short episode about nothing (oh how the tables have turned now it's the other way around haha). and three, i didn't like the style of the animation :/ their faces and expressions freaked me out, Roman's douchey face still haunts me.

#14 Way Too Adult

here i'm biased because i don't like Patton much, and i didn't back when i watched the series the first time either, so this video was a little disappointingwithout the rest. also it wasn't relatable to me because i am still too young and dependent on my parents haha. but Patton is funny and it's funny to laugh at Thomas' struggling.

#13 The Dark Side of Disney

i've never been a fan of Disney movies. i actually never watched Mulan or the Lion King or Aladdin as a kid, so meh. i liked the ending, though, it was cool to see Virgil have fun and be right for once. it does make me a bit uncomfortable because the way Thomas tries too hard with Virgil's mouth movements and his low voice reminds me of a guy that had made me v uncomfortable not long before watching that video. so an icky feel overall.

#12 A New Year of Lying to Myself

this video was actually kind of fogettable to me. i had a hard time connecting the voices in the song to the characters and idk. i don't love it nor hate it, just .. neutral.

#11 My True Identity

pretty much the same opinion as dukeofonions, again. it's a good introduction and it's good that it was the beginning of it all but on its own it's not very special. i think it's awesome on Thomas to have come up with such a clever idea, like choosing the dad, the teacher and the prince and putting them together and match them with thoughts?? that fit so perfectly?? it really is just very impressive when you think about it, that it was just a random idea he had for a short 5 minute video.

#10 Taking on Anxiety

i liked this video a lot because when i watched it i had recently been a lot on tumblr, and found out through relatable posts that i had anxiety. so watching this video was really fun and it made me happy to feel so seen, specially the intro when Thomas just talks about what it's like to have Anxiety and Virgil is so smug about it.

- ★ -

okay now that those are out of the way things are going to get hard... all the following i love with all my heart so i'm going to rank them based on the smallest things.

#9 Growing Up

once more, Patton isn't my favorite. so that's why i'm putting this here, plus the echo at the end askjhsahg, but i love love this video. i remember we were waiting and oh so ready for the angst of nobody taking Patton seriously. and we received!! i love that though Roman and Logan are antagonists here, they're both so happy about Thomas wanting to have a healthy life. and i just adore the way Logan admits his mistake at the end and asks Patton directly. my heart... also aw.. the nostalgia. i remember none of us knew how to spell Patton's name and were writing it in very funny ways until Thomas and Joan told us lol.

#8 The Mind vs The Heart

when i watched this video the first times i didn't like it much, because i only had eyes for Virgil, but later i came back to it and loved it. so taking that into account i'm putting it here. logicality was the first ship i ever shipped in the show because i saw a gifset on tumblr of Patton screaming "what do you know about love?!" and Logan "apparently more than YOU" and the caption said "MARRIED", and i thought hey yeah... anyway. i love them. they're both my dads since that day.

this video is so so so relatable and i love it. Logan and Patton are so much fun arguing and i love how they compromise at the end and work together. im reconsidering.. i might move it higher? no, fine i'll leave it here.

#7 Making Some Changes

this video was absolutely hilarious. i personally couldn't see it as the Sides still once they were acted by Thomas' friends, i enjoyed it more as that bunch being silly and trying to be the sides but failing in so many ways, while sometimes nailing stuff suddenly. i really don't take this one too seriously as an episode. except Joan!Logan and Valerie!Logan, my beloved... i love how Joan acted as Logan and their voice and that they kept their ace ring on.. there's a reason i had them as my icon for so long. and Valerie looks a bit (a lot) like me with the glasses and dressed in dark colors, plus she spoke Spanish and there's .. no words to describe the joy i felt when seeing/hearing that. wait i'm getting emotional...

#6 My Personality Q&A

when i watched this Virgil was my favorite side and i didn't care much about the rest lol. when i heard his answers i related to him SO much it was scary, and also his voice is so soft and it was all very comforting. it was also when i first starting looking at Logan with more attention, because when he brought up Big Hero 6 and Fall Out Boy and said he didn't sing and would recite it like a poem? it only took a couple seconds but my brain said "me" and never went back.

now this video is a little underwhelming to watch for me, most of the appeal for me was in finding out the answers, and also watching it when we didn't know a lot about the sides. now we know more and want to know more so it's not as fun to me as it was first.

i wish so bad they'd do another one, although i know it would be more difficult with a much bigger audience, i think they can manage and i just need it. the chaos.. the energy.. they all being so savage with each other, learning little random facts about them you didn't expect.. i need it.

- ★ -

oh boy top 5 here we go. the next three are practically a tie. i can't choose.

#5 Alone on Valentines Day

i love Valerie, and the idea of this video was perfect and so perfectly excecuted. every side just giving their crazy opinions on how to woo a random stranger, i laughed SO much. first with Logan speaking simlish out of nowhere? at that point i didn't know practically anything about the sims except that it was some video game and the whiplash of Logan going AYO and the rest killed me. then when Roman whipped out that dialogue in Spanish??? my life was completed. i've never felt more happy than i did in that moment gosh. just the hilarity of Roman's drama, the shock of them speaking Spanish suddenly like that, the absolute JOY of seeing a creator i like speak (may i say) perfect Spanish, the other characters' faces after that.. never been happier.

also the conclusion was so cute. Virgil solving the whole problem without wanting to. i loved it.

#4 Am I Original

i think this video speaks for itself. it was fun to watch them all do the ideas Roman had, plus Logan and Virgil nodding at each other, (i love them so much), plus the angst at the end of Roman's perfectionism, plus Roman's just perfect name. this video has it all.

i think Thomas posted it kind of late at night and i watched it at 7am in the classroom as i waited for my classmates to arrive and the class to start. (i usually was like 40 minutes early to school due to mom’s work). i had to contain my laughter and it wasn’t easy.

#3 Losing My Motivation

i started loving this video after a while, when Logan passed Virgil in the position for my favorite side. but once he did this episode was beautiful. it's so funny and i love Logan and Patton's dynamic so much. and the video also so damn relatable in general. i felt so seen with it because they named all the problems i have when procrastinating, down to Patton's vague explanation of his feelings, it's exactly how i feel every time i want to do stuff. and the plot twist! i can hear the dramatic sound effect and see how they all turn to Logan clearly in my head, and it always makes me smile. plus there's so much Logan angst that can be dug up and overanalized. i love to watch it over and over.

#2 Accepting Anxiety

this video was perfect. everything we wanted. we knew it was coming and it delivered perfectly, better than any fanfic done in the waiting time. the week between the parts was agonizing but in a fun way somehow. i remember precisely when i was watching part 2 in my living room. i screamed. and i cried, a lot. i was feeling terrible at that time in my life and Thomas was such a comforting presence and i can't begin to describe how this episode made me feel.

and later it is always fun to rewatch with all their different reactions to being in Virgil's room, the energy of that was on point. Thomas is such a great actor and the characters where just amazingly performed. plus it gave so much to talk adn think about, the idea of the rooms, lots lots of insight into the characters, foreshadowing, so much. it's just perfect i have nothing else to say.

#1 (for purely emotional reasons, ironically) My Negative Thinking

i think Accepting Anxiety is the best episode of the season objectively but my favorite is My Negative Thinking. because i love Virgil and Logan so much and seeing them argue together was and is great. the comfort.. i can't repeat that word enough throughout this post. it's such a soft video while not being overwhelming with Patton and Roman's outbursts. just quiet (mostly) and clear and with perfectly timed humour.

Logan my beloved.. learning spanish... helping me with my own anxiety.. and their debate was so good. and the fact that they were friends i- i can't. Virgil didn't think Logan liked him and Logan told him explicitly that he did and the casual softness of it i cant even. Logan is happy that he tried.. it's just marvelous. Virgil and Logan as best friends will always be my favorite pair, and their dynamic will always be what i strive for in any relationship i might form, with both sides silently comforting each other within their own limits and realistic perspectives. so nice.

- ★ -

so yeah. that's all. thank you if you read all the way up to here. ♡ ♡ ♡

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders

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dropsofletters · 4 years

Text

the one real thing

title: the one real thing pairing: yoo kihyun/reader genre: baker!au/neighbors!au summary: the deliveryman of the bakery beside her own normally presents himself with a serious expression, trying to get his job done as quickly as possible, but when their bosses start to rival against each other, they are left in a limbo of hidden laughter and new friendships. it’s innocent, it’s sweet and it’s the one real thing in their lives. type: angst/fluff/romance/humor word count: 16,802 disclaimer: this is part of my august special called ‘the anti-love club’. each story can be read individually, however, you’d be getting a little bit more of backstory along with some easter eggs if you read each of them, as well as helping me with support. the masterlist can be found here.

The ways of connecting with people are endless—the phone, an email, a call, physical touch, emotional relations…all matters of being practically touched by the personality of another individual, whether for good or for bad.

Nowadays, in this rushed state of life she constantly goes with, she can connect with individuals in two ways the majority of the time: through her pastries, baked by her own hands, dough sticking in between her fingertips, hands mixing with the utmost desire to please the foodies that exist in the bakery she works in; the second option would be through that window in the middle of the bakery, a bad decision by whoever designed the infrastructure of the bakery…and the one next door. This falls on the fact that there are two rival bakeries placed one next to the other, communicating through a window, practically doing their best to eradicate the existence of their enemy’s bakery, and while her boss’ pride makes her unable to ever cover the window in between the two spots, all in the name of being pompous and stuck up, she doesn’t mind.

How to mind when the only person that accompanies her through her nights of preparing the doughs for the next day is none other than the deliveryman next door? Yoo Kihyun, a man that works far too much for how little he gets paid, who often sports his hair underneath a cap that reads the name of the bakery he works for, most of the time wearing a white t-shirt with jeans, getting on his small motorcycle and delivering as many pastries as he can. Even when the bakers are long gone, he still works on some deliveries—she thinks there are times she has seen him bake, as well, nothing too extraordinarily difficult given that bakers normally left pastries ready to be on the oven, but it took some patience and watchful gaze for the task to be finished excellently.

An ache settles on the lumbar part of her spine, bringing a hiss out of her mouth as she kneads the dough with more force, the hyperlordosis suddenly making itself aware on her lower back, the hollow of her spine something she keeps hidden under her uniform. Not only had it deflated her confidence in her body when she had been diagnosed with it, but it also stopped her from doing plenty of things she loved—going on adventures with her friends, for she can’t stand for too long, or simply standing up while baking, doing the best out of her talent. It’s something a baker shouldn’t be—unable to stand for too long, because no one works while sitting down in that industry. It’s what she hides…or keeps the most secret in her job, the aches that settle on her back, the rigidness of her movements when she works for too long or how she, sometimes, when she is alone in the bakery, has to lay down on the floor and help her back soothe itself with the tough and straight flooring.

Everyone has secrets, she imagines, but hers is not quite as eventful as the one she gets to discover that night. Her ears are blessed by the sound of music, cutting through the silence completed by her huffs of pain, lifting her gaze to look through the window in between the two bakeries, making her presence unknown with the dim lights if Kihyun does not look close enough. Unlike in most occasions, he is not entering from the outside, neither is he wearing his cap only. He has taken it off, actually, sporting a red leather jacket on top of his usual uniform t-shirt. The doors of the cooking section open in a swift motion, almost with a swoosh, dramatically opening his arms as a grand entrance when the beat takes its natural rhythmic elegance.

Like something taken out of an old movie, perhaps in the start of the action part in which the bad guys get away with what they wanted since the beginning, that’s how she would describe the start of the song that she can recognize but can’t quite put a name on until it develops further. Then, the rhythm of the drums has her stopping on her kneading of the dough simply to look at Kihyun snapping his fingers, seriousness taken upon his features as he looks down, an artiste to anyone who doesn’t know him. A smile appears on her features, getting away from the far away kitchen to get a better glimpse of him.

When the guitar joins in, he finally starts to let loose. Kihyun is the type of man to look too uptight, too perfect to be real, so seeing him move his neck to the rhythm of the song, back turned towards her slightly, has her lifting her eyebrows in pure surprise. Only knowing him to certain extent, she thinks they are…acquaintances, as good as they can get with the rivalry in between their bosses, but this side of him is brand new even for someone who barely knows him. His steps are good, not to be misunderstood, taken out of the eighties with Michael Jackson’s voice in the background—

He could have been a back-up dancer back then, bringing laughter up her chest the more she looked at him, suddenly aware of how he starts to sing the song at the top of his lungs.

With electricity in his eyes, his fingers grasp the broom nearby, using it as his microphone as he moves around, letting his red leather jacket fall down his shoulders with his movements, probably practiced in front of a mirror. The title of the song makes itself known rather quickly, with the repetition of Beat It in the lyrics that suddenly has her leaning forward on the window, wanting to see more of this side of the serious Yoo Kihyun she has gotten to know. Also, leaning on something could probably help her case with her back, easing happiness inside her body now that she is not preoccupied about the aches of her body.

The sway of his hips is almost comical, swinging in the air in circles when he turns around with his eyes closed, using his microphone (broom, if she’s being sincere) to sing the lyrics at the top of his lungs. A magical voice, one that she did not expect from him, captivating and enticing the more she listens to him sing the chorus:

“Just beat it, beat it. No one wants to be defeated.” The bent of his hand and his movements suddenly come to a halt when he opens his eyes, ready to give his imaginary crowd what could be the fiercest gaze when he suddenly comes face to face with the woman on the opposite end of the window. His broom falls to the floor messily, his face suddenly growing red when he reaches for his phone quickly and turns off the song quite messily. His lips part at that, running his fingers through his hair and fixing the jacket that had fallen down his shoulders with a shudder in his tone. “I’m sorry. Did I disturb you?”

She leans her elbow on the railing of the window, her hand pressing to the side of her face as she shakes her head. “Not at all,” She admits, suddenly aware of how she has to lean her weight somewhere to feel better. Maybe, she should continue with her back therapy instead of making herself out to be the tough one. “I’m quite impressed. I didn’t even remember that song.”

Kihyun tries to chuckle, but it comes out rather awkward as he runs his fingers through his hair, his nice physique suddenly highlighted by his, the apples of his cheeks lifted when he smiles softly. “Yeah…I thought I was alone…Sorry, you had to see all that—”

“Did you take it out from the music video?”

“Excuse me?” He asks, suddenly getting closer to the window and taking off his jacket, tossing it on top of one of the tables nearby to hear her from up close. Just then, she sees the thin layer of sweat on his forehead, perhaps coming from the heat of his embarrassment.

“The steps, the pushing the doors open scene…I think there’s something like that in the music video.” She retorts, well aware of the fact that this is only making Kihyun more uncomfortable…but it comes from a genuine place of curiousness. She widens her eyes softly, almost innocently, and when Kihyun frowns for a second, he lets the furrow go and releases a soft sigh that welcomes a smile in.

“Yeah…”

“You did great, I mean it. And that voice—where did you even get vocal lessons?”

“I didn’t—”

“And the hip thing. It was so awesome!” Now she’s rambling, perhaps because she has always leaned into the observational part of dancing. She has never danced, to be quite honest, not properly or for long periods of time, pushing the imagery of the aches of her bones away the moment she starts to think about it. It would be nice, for once, to let go and not worry about the consequences later—to stop being so insecure of something that she had not even opted to have and just live for once. It’s not as easy, either way. “How did you do it?”

Kihyun chuckles at that, now all tension dissipating from his body when he crosses his arms over his chest. Something about him has always been beautiful, the sight of him on its own or simply that his personality is enough to capture all the eyes in the room. Caring, soft, gentle, with that edge of him when he gets stressed or upset. Definitely the best of both worlds. “What hip thing? What I did back then was ridiculous.” He downgrades himself, something that she is familiar of, and when she pouts her bottom lip, she releases a sigh.

“You were having fun, Kihyun. That’s never ridiculous.” She settles the matters straight, pulling away from the windows and hearing her bones crack obnoxiously, suddenly well aware that the position had stiffened her and made it difficult to get back into a normal stance. “I wish I could do that.”

“Why can’t you? It’s easy.” Kihyun replies, voice soft when he speaks, eyes gleaming under the golden lights of his bakery. “It’s just…dancing. It doesn’t have to be good; it just has to be felt. Fun, like you said.”

Sometimes, she wonders what would have happened had she not gotten her back problems to care about—maybe, she’d be in culinary school, working with all her might, even more than she does right now, doing her best, living her life…but that is not the case. Always settling for less, she does, even in the dating expense. She feels as though she needs to take what is given to her and not give a damn about it. “You don’t know?”

He shakes his head, taking a good look at her face before whispering: “Should I…know something?”

“I have hyperlordosis, so my back is kind of hollow, I guess that’s the best way to explain it. It creates a lot of pressure on my lower back…which is not helpful when standing or sitting for long. That mixed with a few slipped discs, I was never one to be lucky with my bone structure.” She tries to joke around, though a smile is not welcomed in her home the more she thinks of it. Kihyun is a lively person, deep in his way of living, someone who just looks like he had lived what he needed to and tried what he wanted to. She could not say the same. “…It’s not that I can, it’s just that I feel insecure doing it. What if my bones creak or if it suddenly hurts too much and someone sees me? People judge the dance, not what the dancer must be going through.”

“That’s nothing to be ashamed about,” Kihyun replies, leaning forward on the window and looking to her sides before giving her a tight smile. “Actually, is there anyone with you in there right now?”

“The guys left…and my boss is rarely here, so…” She whispers, scrunching up her nose at his words. “Why?”

“Let’s dance.”

“What?” She asks in a rush, rolling her eyes and smiling out of irony, turning around and going over to her spot with the now dried dough to keep working on it. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going to do the whole Michael Jackson thing you just did. No, I’m just not built for that.”

“Please?”

She looks at him, finally, aware of the beauty of him that she has never been able to forget. After all, even one of her coworkers had the biggest crush on him before letting it go completely. Kihyun’s brown hair is ruffled from how much he had touched it and from the dancing, parted in the middle delicately, face heated and with patches of red, sweet eyes looking at her that could only match the pastries that she bakes early in the morning. Her wide-eyed gaze must have brought that smile upon his features, hands resting on the dough and digging her fingers inside of it before nodding. “Not tonight, though. I owe you the dance and you’ll get to choreograph me.”

The deliveryman seems happy, looking over at her before releasing a laugh, one that shakes his shoulders even when she was the one laughing at him earlier—this is a memory that she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to forget, not when Kihyun made a stage out of a bakery. “I’ll make sure to think of a good dance.”

“Crack my bones, if you will.”

“I would never do that to you.” Kihyun replies, sneaking out some air out of her lungs without noticing, finding herself looking down and biting down on her bottom lip to release a smile. “Uh…are you going home now?”

“I have to leave the doughs ready and I still need to finish the dough for the bread so…no.” She says rather too quickly, moving her legs back and forth to ease some of the ache there. “Why?”

“I planned on waiting for you…maybe, give you a lift?” He asks, only to have her shaking her head.

“No, no worries. I always catch the bus at nine, it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” He questions, suddenly hyperaware of the fact as to why one of her coworkers was so deeply entranced in him. A nod is the only thing she could give him, knowing far too well that her voice would probably be too dreamy for it to be friendly. Kihyun lifts up the helmet he wears when in his motorcycle at that, not aware that he waved goodbye with it as he says the word softly.

“Bye, Kihyun.”

That is the end of it, or so she thinks, bitten by pain and coldness the moment she steps out of the bakery, closing the door after turning off the lights and blowing on the air just to keep herself warm. Her baker uniform is changed for something simpler, a plaid shirt and leggings, nothing interesting or cute, simply something that makes her feel comfortable and hidden. The moon and the lights of the street are her illumination as she steps away from the door to go back home. It’s only then that she gets to hear the roaring of an engine, watching as a motorcycle appears right in front of her, the helmet reading the enemy bakery’s name on it fairly common as the driver speaks to her.

“That ride back home is still up, if you want it…” Kihyun whispers, looking up at the moon for a moment, only showing his eyes from behind the helmet. “I don’t know, I just can’t leave you alone to go home on your own. Besides, it’s almost nine and the bus stop is not too close from here, you won’t get there.”

Her eyes trail over the watch that rests on her wrist, realizing that he is not wrong and that, sincerely, she should just take the ride to get home faster and just lay down for a while and sleep. “I’ll take it, then.” She replies, plopping on the small spot behind him on the motorcycle. She wraps her hands on the box on the back of the motorcycle, clear as day that it is for deliveries.

“Are you safe and sound in there?” Kihyun puzzles.

“Yes,” She says, instructing her address to him in a quick mannerism before hearing him hum.

“Okay. If it gets too hard for you to keep still in there, you can hold onto me.”

She almost wants to scoff, because Kihyun treats her like she is made out of paper, but this completely changes when she starts driving and the wind blows on her hair, quickly grabbing onto his waist and pressing her helmet to his back for reassurance. She swears she hears Kihyun laugh, something less melodious than his singing earlier now that it is thrown towards her, but it is not an uncomfortable position. For the first time in a while, even years, she doesn’t have to walk home alone.

###

When her shift is over, she loves leaving the door of the kitchen open—it makes her feel accompanied, free, as if the bakery is her own and everything becomes dreamy. Sometimes, she’d get a glimpse of Kihyun, as well, or a small conversation that naturally flows after conversating that one night she had caught him dancing, but nothing more happens. A ride home, perhaps a smile here and there, it feels like the blooming of a friendship more than anything. After all, there are matters that they need to care about: their career, and on her case, not to hold too much hope on that supposed dancing class that he wants to give her.

In the mornings and afternoons, however, when her coworkers are there, the people are visiting the bakery and her boss is sometimes hanging around, as well, she likes to keep the doors closed, that way she can concentrate on what actually matters: baking. The heat is insufferable, sometimes leading her to roll up the white sleeves of her uniform, basking on the natural light that seeps through the windows, doing her best to keep time and check the temporizer, not wanting anything to be under or overcooked. The smell of honey and mangos are prominent today, trying out one of the new recipes that her boss had pleaded her to bake and it was going good, until she heard the sound of the doors of the kitchen opening loudly, enough to have her jumping on her spot in front of the oven and widen her eyes at the person in front of her.

Her boss.

Degrading and obnoxiously childish would be the best way to describe her boss because, surprise, she really is both of those adjectives. Choi Haeun, a well-known baker and businesswoman that had put everything and anything on this one bakery, leaving her days of being in front of the oven behind and simply investing on other people working for her. Everything has to be pristine to her, which is not wrong, but she didn’t like spending money for the best of products…much less did she like paying on the exact day towards her workers, no matter how safe she was economically. There was a reason for someone like Haeun to hire her, and it was well voiced out by the older woman, that she was cheap—talented, too, but no one would want a baker or a cook that could not move with expertise, quickly, without complaining of pains and aches.

“Someone stole our recipe!” Haeun exclaims, taking her by the arm just in time for her to turn the oven off and walk along with the older woman. The least she wanted was to have the casually cruel Haeun scolding her for burning her precious kitchen.

Our recipe, at least, Haeun had done something to include her…but she knows better than to trust the woman with the suit and the white head of hair, simply because she had done nothing for that recipe to start with. She doesn’t like to believe that there are recipes that are unique in this point of time; after all, most things have already been tried and a cook only twists things sporadically to add their own flavor to the meal, but Haeun thinks otherwise, much more when she pays no attention to the clients around them, leaning over the window and screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Lee Kwangho, you stole my recipe!” Haeun said with certainty, having her eyes inspecting the place to see that she is being looked at, along with her boss, her body brought forward and towards the window for the owner of the other, rival bakery to look at her with a surprised look on his features. “Look at how overworked my poor baker is with the release of our new pastries only for you to be selling them at the same time. And you consider yourself a businessman with that attitude?”

Her eyes settle forward, catching the surprised expression on Kihyun’s face as he stands beside his boss, stopping his movements on holding the box of pastries on his hold to concentrate on the argument. Apparently, Kwangho is not so happy about the allegations, because he immediately rushes towards the window and speaks just as quickly.

“Look at that, you are always taking the credit of recipes that are not even yours. I found it in a blog, just like you did!” Kwangho adds as a matter of fact and she knows the reality of it, mainly because her boss had been the one to send her the link, but her lips part simply to ask for help.

“A-Ah, I think I shouldn’t be here on the first place. Can I get back to—?”

Haeun tugs at her arm a little harshly when she tries to pull away, keeping her in between her and her ex-boyfriend like the daughter they didn’t have. Kwangho and Haeun used to be a couple around the nineties, long ago…over twenty years in the past, and yet they can’t seem to get away from it. “No.” Haeun tells her in a low voice before returning to her confrontation. “So, you admit that you don’t think of real recipes and simply look them up online?”

“There are no real recipes in this world, Haeun.” The man with the long beard adds, something that she nods along to but her boss pays no attention to, speaking through gritted teeth.

“That’s something a fake baker would say.” She replies, opening her mouth to speak even louder. “People who are eating in that bakery, come over to ours, at least we don’t have cockroaches in the kitchen.”

Kwangho frowns deeply, clearly moved by the way she spoke as he retorts: “We don’t have cockroaches. Stop lying. That’s what you always do—”

Why?

Just why?

She tries to get help from Kihyun, mouthing the word just in time for him to let the box rest on the counter before placing his hand on top of his boss’ shoulder.

“Boss, I think you’re making a scene. We should—”

To no avail, Haeun keeps talking over the young man, her chest pressed to her back, asking for too much out of her. She deserved a normal job, a normal boss, the only thing that keeps her there is the opportunity of something better—maybe, this is how every baker starts their life in the industry. “The first cockroach would be yourself, Kwangho. Or should I say the man that slept with another woman while I was away in Rome?”

Kwangho’s ears perk up at that, gleaming in the red color of them when Kihyun tries to tug him bag again, his breath caressing the window uncomfortably, having her move her face away absentmindedly. “…It was a mistake, get over it.”

Kihyun gets in between the window and his boss, extending his arms and speaking a bit louder than his tone. “Get this over and done with, you two. You’re making a scene and putting our clients and your staff in an uncomfortable position.” The seriousness of his tone is almost scary, in the way his chest expands and his nostrils flare, the peacefulness that he brings her enough to have her lungs filled with air when her boss pushes her out of the way, turning around to look at her clients and apologize with a frown over her features. The stomps of her heels towards her office do not match the sound of her door closing with a loud thud. Some people never really get over a messy, toxic relationship, as it seems, much more when the two of them are bad towards one another.

“I’ll apologize on behalf of my boss, please, keep eating.” She says in a soft tone, the silence around the room cut short as people started to talk in between them about the scene that developed just then. Weak, she feels, like she doesn’t belong in such place and she has to bear with it for the sake of her career. For some reason, she feels like she’ll never be good enough to get out of there. Her steps are dragged when she tries to move towards the kitchen, looking over her shoulder and past her worried coworkers to see Kihyun lifting the hand he holds his helmet with waving at her, per usual, though his smile is small, saddened, a bit angry, like he can’t believe the issues that developed just now.

She can’t believe them, either.

The reason as to why she had learned how to bake was quite funny—with burnt thumbs and the stench of equally as burnt food had been her initiation, seeking for something that could be hers in a world of limitations. Lots of free time, she had, all thanks to her own judgement of being unable to live her own life without that shred of embarrassment and now that she is older, she finds the therapeutic side of her work to be the only reason her breathing goes back to normal. Baking is the only place in which she feels like she fully belongs, as if nothing could wrong as long as she is in the kitchen. Solitude is welcome, not wanting to hear anyone as she works through the meals, pushes them on the counter to send them over her coworkers’ way and then, she is off to another baking session.

At some point, she is left alone again, in the same cycle of preparing the dough for the next day. The curtains are now closed, the natural light that normally seeps through the windows, her chef hat long tossed somewhere else, leaving her hair on a low ponytail. Her hands are stained with the usual flour but this time around, the smell of sweet bread on the oven is different. Baking at night is not normally something she does, but out of thankfulness she can only come up with the idea of making something for Kihyun. The man who had read her eyes, wanted to protect her, the reason Haeun did not go further with such an ignorant fight…and really, she doesn’t believe in the concepts of princes that are charming or knights with shining armors…but a reality is a reality. A caring soul, Kihyun seems to be.

Enough for her to notice that he never grabs a bite of anything as he is working, eating something and then leaving it to make his deliveries. Everyone else’s meals are more important than his, as it seems, and this is her way of payment—if he is there, truthfully, she knows that he doesn’t always stay as late as she does, but hoping that he likes the sugar-coated bread should be enough.

Closing earlier and stepping out of the bakery, she is welcomed by the sight of the dark bakery by the side of her own workplace, lively and bright, while his held more of an elegant outlook to modernism. Luckily for her, the lights are on, leading her to push on the door only to let herself inside. Kihyun’s face is practically glued to a notebook, eyebrows drawn together and small lips pouted as he writes something down, perhaps the orders of the day to make sure his boss checks up on them earlier in the morning. All it takes is for her to let the door close behind her to have Kihyun looking up, sending a smile her way as he breathes out her name happily.

It’s enchanting—charming, in a way, to have someone like him going over to her to get closer and establish a conversation. “What are you doing here? Do you want me to give you a ride home? Uh…I haven’t kept track of time, is it past nine?” He asks, already searching for his phone in his pockets when she chuckles softly, pressing the box on her hands to his chest, causing his brown eyes to trail down and connect his gaze to the box.

“I decided to give you a ‘thank you’ gift for saving me from Haeun’s and Kwangho’s post-marital issues.” The simplicity of it all has him grinning, taking the box in between his hands and lifting it up to see some bread, one that he could slice and eat with something sweet just like chocolate or with something interesting like cream cheese. “…And I may have noticed you don’t eat enough during work hours…which is not good, really, you should eat more.”

Kihyun’s lips wrap up in a smile at that, pointing towards the seat across from him when he sits by one of the tables. She follows his steps, taking the seat across from him when he takes a deep breath of the freshly baked treats. “I’d have more food here if I actually got to eat warm, soft, delicious bread. I only get the old pastries.” He tells, already spreading the bread in two parts before trying to give one to her, to which she shakes her head.

“No, no, it’s all for you.”

Kihyun quirks an eyebrow at that, releasing a soft breath when he puts the slice of bread down. “You really are a handful,” He utters, taking a bite of his food before trying to give her the piece once again. With an eye-roll and a sigh, she takes a bite of the slice he had given her, watching how his eyes shine at the mere sight of her eating. “Which, by the way, I was doing some research…and don’t you want to lay down?”

Confusion, she feels almost immediately, accidentally biting on her bottom lip when eating and hissing at the action. She looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed when she asks: “Wait, what? Why?”

“Your back, I read it’s worse for you if you stay seated or standing up for too long—”

She smiles at his words, because no one had ever given two shits about what she feels or doesn’t, not that she has ever done the most out of it to tell how she really feels. Instead, she shakes her head. “I’ll be alright, you don’t have to treat me as if I’m made of a paper.”

His cheeks flush at that, shaking his head with parted lips. “I didn’t mean to. Really. I’m sorry—”

“…It’s good, thanks to you I got out of that situation with my boss.” She sighs, moving her legs under her seat when she leans her weight on her elbows over the table. “What do you think they’ll do if they knew we talk?”

“They’d lose it, probably. No, not probably, certainly.” Kihyun adds, laughter in his tone when he leans forward as well, moving his head to the side when he whispers. “We should pretend we hate each other.”

“No, I can’t.” She replies, shaking her head before watching as he slices another part of bread and plops it inside his mouth. “…Should we?”

“I mean…for the sake of our jobs, maybe.” Kihyun replies, shrugging his shoulders before leaning back on his seat. “Haeun is…clearly hurt that my cheating boss is still the only man she has ever gotten to love, it’s clear.”

With a gasp and yet, interest in his words, she slaps his arm softly from over the table. “Kihyun!”

“I mean it!”

“I know!” She replies, lowering her voice to a whisper so they can talk to each other, even when they are alone. “…I mean, talking in between us both here, who do you think had the blame in between the two?”

“Kwangho, definitely.”

She puckers up her lips, the bite on her lip making it difficult to do so. “Yeah, but Haeun is…I mean…she needs to get over him, too. They were crazy the moment they decided to make bakeries, one next to the other.”

“Not so crazy.” Kihyun says, standing up from his spot and closing the lid of his box before grasping the keys that settle over the counter, ones for his delivery motorcycle. “Because had they not built the bakery, I would not have gotten this job and…you know…” He lifts his gaze, sending one of those smiles that reach his eyes towards her. “Gotten to have someone to accompany me to my drive home almost every single night.”

Warmth, that’s something that she had always considered to be Kihyun’s word. He spoke with warmth, lived with warmth, as if he was summer itself. Some people didn’t like it…and even she had considered herself to be someone who liked colder weathers rather than hotter ones, but this thing that he brings upon her in the sense of friendship is not so bad after all.

Voicing it out, she does, when the heat on her face is clear and she grabs the helmet that he tosses towards her. “That makes two of us. I’m also very glad.”

###

It’s fantastic how the world has become so small now with the existence of social media. Planes are not necessary, much less phone calls when the swipe of fingers against a keyboard can make the distance less palpable, laughter more heartfelt, worries of being awkward thrown out of the window and suddenly, creating a pattern—a routine. She had never thought that one day, that number that she had saved as Yoo Kihyun on her phone would be the contact she’d see first in the morning and last at night, that she’d have a companion for when the night is too quiet…even a pin falling to the floor makes a sound along with the roaring of his small motorcycle, pure and static in her memory.

Nonetheless, there is still someone that bites at the back of her brain, that dings a bell and reminds her to stay away from Kihyun. Haeun. What would her boss say if she got to know the reality of their relationship? That, what started as simplistic conversation, had now turned into bravery as she tries to step a foot into flirtation. Sometimes, she’d catch herself smiling at him through that window and trying to avoid the glare that Haeun would send her way. A terrific lullaby, she’d say it is—someone like her could not just lose her job thanks to someone else, much more when Haeun is such a person of power in the baking industry.

No one would ever hire her as a baker…

The thought makes her sigh, seated next to the counter in the kitchen as she inspects the messages on her phone—Kihyun has taken pictures of this cute dog he saw while delivering some of the pastries for the day, and now they are embarking in a conversation of all the pets they’ve had. It’s simple, sweet, it’s realistic, for everything to feel like it’s going smoothly, because that’s the type of person he is. This warmth that he brings, like the moment of settlement after a storm, when not a single thunder rakes through the sky, is what has her back into conversating with him. That, and the clear attraction that she feels towards him, feeling forgiveness for that one person in her team that had been crushing on him a while back.

A smile graces her features, clicking on Kihyun’s picture to inspect him. It was one of the first pictures they had sent each other in the weeks they had been talking, one she had taken of him when laughing after he had dropped her off at her home. Kihyun had a frown on his features, probably from the endless teasing, and a middle finger up in the air that could never compare to the sweetness that followed the picture after that—a smile her way, clearly because he had given up on being the joke of the night and accepting his reality. That night was one of the many where her world had stopped being silent, stiff, achy, and had simply let go.

When she is about to respond to his text, however, she hears the sound of the door closing and she half expects the youngest of the team to be tagging along with her, for he is her pupil of sorts. However, the young man was nowhere in sight when she turns to look at the door, instead being met by Haeun in all her glory. Her hair is put in a bun on top of her head, looking as professional as ever as she nears her with a smile on her face. That is never something good, for Haeun is never the type to enter the kitchen with a smile—it’s always to complain about something, but a smile must mean that she is asking for a favor.

Silently, but she gives him a few seconds before she voices out what really is bringing her there.

Haeun wraps her fingers around the edge of the white hat over her head, putting it in place to cover the small baby hairs on the roots of her hair before clicking her tongue. “Silly, you shouldn’t let your hairs show. You should know this.” She tells her, that familiarity and warmth on her tone one that could never compare to Kihyun’s. It’s not genuine, it feels gut-wrenching if anything, swallowing thickly and nodding her head in favor of her boss.

“Y-Yes, sorry, I must have not tightened it enough.” She replies, already reaching up for the back of her hat and tightening it. Haeun smiles at that, leaning her weight against the counter she is seated by before sighing.

“You know, you should change that. Be more…assertive, in a way. Be braver when talking.” Haeun replies, a jinx with the way she moves around her words before lifting an eyebrow. “Just like how you are when you talk to the deliveryman next door. What’s his name…Kihoon?”

Kihyun, she wants to correct, but her heart is already at the pit of her stomach, having dropped at the mere realization that Haeun is not blind and she has completely caught her staring at Kihyun, perhaps going home with him every single night and having him drop her off. It wouldn’t surprise her, really, if Haeun was able to catch Kwangho cheating back then, she’s perfectly capable of catching her imminent crush. “Boss—Ah, I doubt you’re getting it correctly. I know who he is but we don’t hold any type of correlation towards each other—”

“I know, I know, you’re the most loyal of my team.” Haeun speaks, all too highly because, if anything, she is the least loyal of them. She is the one that has started this friendship with Kihyun, with a second-nature of flirting with each other, and that’s the exact opposite of what Haeun is looking for in this thought that she is about to voice out. “…But Kihoon, he really seems to be into you. That window has served its purpose, I’ve finally found the way that we’re going to stab Kwangho’s business right where it needs to be. The deliveryman likes you, let’s start there.”

It’s not an impossibility, but it’s not confirmed that he likes her—they are just having fun, thus far, planning to go on a date to test the waters of their connection with each other. A date that has not been clearly stated as a date, but two people going out together while flirting and meticulously trying to look better in the eyes of the other sounds like a date. Still, what Haeun seems to be thinking has her frowning and straightening her back on the seat she is on. “I don’t get what you’re saying…Boss.”

“It’s simple, honey.”

“…What is?”

Haeun’s whitened teeth become more prominent with the huge smile she gives her. “I’m asking an eye for an eye here. You give me something, and I give you something.” The sound of that is already difficult to comprehend on its own, but she keeps listening to Haeun. “If you…use your power over the deliveryman to ruin Kwangho’s business in any way, I’m thinking avoiding Kihoon—”

“Kihyun.”

“Same thing.” Haeun shrugs, continuing with her rant. “Avoiding that Kihyun delivers on time, for the matter. That would make a huge difference and people would stop ordering from them.”

“Boss, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She whispers, looking down and jutting out her bottom lip out of pure awkwardness and uncomfortableness. She doesn’t feel at ease, the overpowering existence of Haeun suddenly wanting to manipulate her is the least she needs right now. “I’m—I’m not a good actress at all, I don’t think it’ll be good.”

Haeun pats her shoulder, weight that is not welcomed before she says. “ But…let me tell you about the catch, don’t get too ahead of yourself. If you make their sales drop, I’m going to pay for your dream of culinary school in the school that I went to years ago. They’d be more than happy to have my best baker in there.”

Culinary school, the only place that she has been unable to go, both for monetary and health reasons, and now the idea of being in it is enough to perk her up in her seat. To betray someone simply to get exactly where she wanted, that’s nothing like whatever sin she has committed in the world—sure, she has told white lies, but that could not equal to whatever Haeun is asking out of her. “I don’t think I can do it, still.”

“Do it and I get you to culinary school. Don’t do it and…” Haeun pulls away from the kitchen, walking backwards as the worst words that could escape her mouth touched the thick air. “I’ll see how long I’ll keep you here for. Think about it, honey, not a lot of people would want you in their kitchen…and I’m planning on giving it all for you.” The doors open, her hands grasping the material of her pants to keep her sanity intact, only to hear Haeun chuckle. “I’ll wait for those sales to drop.”

This is the reason as to why, two days later, she can’t even look at Kihyun in the eyes on their date.

A night out drinking—it sounded simplistic enough, something that could lessen all the tensions of the past month of work dealing with insufferable bosses and a lot of late-night laughter from the two of them, mixed with spilled sessions of talking about their biggest worries in the job (or just a night of complaining about the racers that make too much noise in the street). It’s not a club, thankfully, just a bar that Kihyun said frequented when he is looking to let go with his group of friends. Nice music, not too hectic, neither too soft—after all, she is a bit of a sulky drunk—, with love seats and soft cushions on the chairs, nicely decorated drinks and some kind of entertainment, a comedian that is not half as interesting as the red-faced man in front of her, now laughing with more glee, smiling with all the might in the world. He’s infectious and the best kind of it, in a way, Kihyun seems to be having the time of his life as they share a bowl of fries, coated in cheese and a few vegetables, and talking about deep thoughts, embarrassing stories, whatever crosses their heads…

Though, her mind is only filled with masking the insecurity that pools at the back of her brain, hits her badly for ever wanting to go to culinary school and for hiding from him that Haeun, the crazy woman herself, had asked her to betray him, seduce him in a way just to get in between his line of work. Looking at him, listening to him should be a blessing, much more when he has taken off his denim jacket because of the heat and now he’s rambling excitedly about a movie, something that she should have put her input in had she not been completely conflicted.

Kihyun is…well, candid, and real, and not obnoxious in any way but the type to sit anyone down when he doesn’t like what is being told. If he got to know Haeun or worked for her, he would have probably dropped out of the job in a second…but she’s not him. That’s their difference, she realizes, how he takes his drinks with ease and poise, only a bit tipsy while she is already on the highway to hammered with how the rose gold cocktails had her with her vision blurry, mind too clouded with guilt and this weight on her chest.

“…We should have a movie marathon sometime.” Kihyun says, legs parted, the necklace around his neck taking her attention when she looks towards his Adam’s apple, up to his chiseled jawline, his reddened and thin lips, his nicely shaped nose, pretty small eyes and his tussled hair.

“Are you meaning to say you’d go out with me again?” She asks, braver than ever and playing with the edge of her oversized shirt as she says that. The corner of Kihyun’s mouth lifts at that, smirking when he nods his head and finally connects his gaze with her. The drunkenness and the hyperawareness of her active persona when drunk keeps her looking when he says:

“Of course,” He utters, turning on his side until they are face to face. “I’ll tell you something.”

“Mm,” She hums, fluttering her eyes softly at him, trying to capture a picture of how he is with her right now—how he is friendly and nice, captivating in a way, and she is thinking about the possibility of going to culinary school while destroying this man’s career. No, she couldn’t do such thing. “Tell me.”

“I’ve been trying to go out with you since the moment I met you.” Kihyun instructs, bringing a big smile to her face that she can only hide by bringing her cocktail up to her lips and taking a nice, long sip.

“And why didn’t you ask?”

Kihyun snorts at her words. “Did I just have to enter the bakery, ask you out and be like: ‘Hey, from the window I get a good sight of you baking and I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful’?” Those words bring a flutter to her chest and a pang to her stomach. Haeun wants to ruin someone like him, and now it’s clear in his eyes, in the way they glisten and stare at her, in the way his skin forms goosebumps when her hand reaches for the collar of his shirt to fix it from falling down his collarbone, that he really feels something. Attraction, just like her, perhaps something strong, like the tip of the beer that goes down his throat when he leans his head back. “Yeah, no. You were always…in this bubble, almost unapproachable. I said to myself I would do it, but if you hadn’t discovered me dancing to Michael Jackson, I’m sure I wouldn’t have done anything.”

“Kihyun, don’t put me on a pedestal.” She replies, looking up at him and blowing out some air from her lips in the form of a sigh, touching his skin softly, coating his lips in warmth. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. “I’m not…the most dateable person out there, you know. Once you realize how much I stop myself from trying new things just to live in this bubble of mine, you’ll notice I’m not the type of person you want.”

“…I didn’t say you had to change.” Kihyun tells her. “Besides, don’t say shit like that. I’m not perfect at all. I’m obstinate and a perfectionist and I always have something to say—”

“But I like all of those things.”

“And why can’t I like you as you are?” That’s the tipping point, the last thunder in the sky before the rain falls miraculously. Maybe, she had wanted to know him best—to learn the shape of his lips better, the aches on his soul to fix, the memories of him to fill with more and more happiness, or the alcohol was speaking—she is a sulky drunk just like how she is an emotional one, and breaking Kihyun almost feels like breaking a promise. It’s tough, it’s heartbreaking, it’s enough to light a fire in the root of her bones, bring so much electricity to the neurons in her muscles to contract, bring her forward, take the strength she lacks and send a kiss his way in the form of the touch of their skin. It’s not an intimate kiss, but it feels warm—somehow, like she belongs there, like Kihyun hands is supposed to gravitate towards her leg and rub up and down as she softly lets his lips caress hers after taking the initiative.

Though, she’s drunk, and the feeling of him breathing in and out only makes her feel worse because…he doesn’t know in what kind of predicament she is in. Losing her job or losing him. It shouldn’t be complicated, not in that little-street bar, not in the way he holds her, in how suddenly she feels his hands going to her spine and the depth of her back, those spots that she feels the most insecure about and covers with big clothing, and he doesn’t utter a word, doesn’t pull away. He feels her, in soul, in depth, in what is romance. A soft breath leaves her lips, pushing at his chest and laughing against him, closing her eyes tightly as she gets lost in the feeling of him. “I’m sorry, I’m…so fucking drunk.”

“It’s okay.” Kihyun mumbles, chuckling along with her and fixing the hairs around her face, looking into her eyes and when she opens them, she’s welcomed by that smile that she has grown to like. No. Adore. “I never thought you’d do that. Or that you’d be the one to initiate it.”

“I didn’t know I could do that either.” She continues laughing, drinking the last remaining bits of her cocktail before settling the glass down. Kihyun is still looking at her, she can feel it, but what completes the masterpiece of them is when Kihyun’s hand reaches for hers and interlocks their fingers together, breaking her apart more than she is supposed to do to him.

Silence settles around them. She spares him a glance and he looks at her from the corner of his eyes, the apples of his cheeks lifting until he trails his gaze down. He reminds her of confidence, something that she hasn’t had in a while—if ever, actually, and if being brave is being with Kihyun, she wants to do just that.

###

“One day, I’ll bake something for you.”

Her chest vibrates with a laugh, elbows resting on top of the railing of the bridge they had just come across of, part of their walk together after a dining date. “…Mm, I’d like to see you try. Bake whatever reminds you of me.”

If violins could play in the background, they would, for such complicatedly beautiful scenery could only be found in a bridge like this one, part of their home. The moon seems to touch the lake, a few houses illuminated in the faint distance, some buildings that take most of the spotlight mixed in between there. On the other side of the bridge, the cars pass by quickly, rushing through life like most of us do. She remembers the times in which it was easier to breathe in, as something more than just the necessity of continuing to exist, when there weren’t sins in her head or thoughts to crowd her. The moments in which she was younger, with snacks in her pockets and a smile on her face, rushing towards her friends, not caring about whether or not they were going to think less of her. Sometimes, she wonders if she is nostalgic of what she didn’t have or she’s just seeking for memories of a past she never decided to take part of. Enjoyment is not for her, neither is work, her life simply consists of what is given to her. Haeun or nothing. The bakery or nothing. Her friends or nothing.

But Kihyun…Kihyun is an option she had taken herself, and to be picked as well feels like the damned most joyful feeling she has ever been captivated by.

What is it about him that suddenly reminds her of her purest moments? With a soul that is not stained, a heart that has forgotten and forgiven. To be happy is possible by his side, much more with his sly jokes, the smile that is always plastered on his face and those comments he makes that make her feel heat around her face, the waist that she has held for the past few weeks, over months now, simply reminding her that Kihyun is real…the one that would accompany her in this tough moment of her life. Not that he knew anything, for Kihyun everything around them was peachy, excellent, bursting with excitement and the newfound romance that they are taking their time with—if she doesn’t count the few kisses that they never make comments about.

It’s difficult when they work most of the time, and they only get to see each other when he takes her home, or in some weekend in which they do their hardest to finish their shift earlier. Underpaid, perhaps into each other, she finally realizes that this warm feeling that she feels for Kihyun has been burning nowadays, much more with the constant glares from Haeun inviting her to talk to him and while he had been delighted to be able to talk, even through the window, but also slyly weirded out. After all, they are supposed to be acting like they don’t even acknowledge each other as another human being in this world.

Reaching forward, with this habit she has of fixing Kihyun’s collar or scarf, she helps him with the badly done scarf that wraps around his neck, making sure that it is fluffed out, not covering his chin too much and that it isn’t too tight, when she avoids his gaze as he says. “…That reminds me of you? I was thinking a cake. Is vanilla a way of me to call you bland? Is chocolate…a way of calling you bitter? What does that even mean?”

“Don’t overthink every cringy thing I say, Kihyun.” She replies to him, though the comment makes him laugh and she simply gives him a tight-lipped smile. He notices, apparently, pressing the warm drink on his hand to her cheek, heating her skin slightly before asking.

“What’s in that pretty head of yours?”

“You.”

“Apart from me.”

She rolls her eyes, finally giving him a big smile and a tug to his red scarf before speaking softly. “I mean it, I’m thinking of you.” Though, it’s lingered with the thought that rummages through her head and tells her that if she dares voice out what has been going for the past two weeks, of Haeun practically pushing her to be Kihyun’s seductress before stopping him from doing his job. His cheeks heat up at that, looking over to the side when she says: “Kihyun, I seriously have to tell you something and I hope you don’t get mad at me for this…”

His smile falters, vanishes, disappears, becomes a memory of the dull moonlight in that eventful night when he tilts his head to the side and says the most truthful thing, typical of Kihyun. “It depends on what it is. Tell me and we’ll judge from there if I get mad.”

Okay, so that much is expected. Honesty is his policy, the only reason as to why Kihyun has always been…a gush of fresh air, so with shaky hands while trapping her fingers around the railing, she finally decides to be truthful. “Haeun said to me a few weeks ago that I either had to seduce you and make you do your job badly or she would fire me—” She cuts herself off, lifting her hands in the air when Kihyun’s frown deepens. “But, before you think I was just playing with you—I wasn’t, I’m not. The day of our first date, she told me she had seen us get close and that she’d give the opportunity to go to culinary school if I broke your heart, and if I didn’t, she’d toss me like I mean nothing.” Once again, she squints her eyes, wondering why the words can’t leave her mouth properly, why they don’t sound good at all. “…And that night, I kissed you because I meant it. I have meant everything that has happened between us, but I don’t want you to think there’s some other hidden reason…I don’t want to break your heart, much less for my job, so I’d rather just let you know before anyone else told you and gave you the wrong idea.”

Kihyun raises one of his eyebrows before scoffing. “Your boss really put you in that position?”

“She has never been a good boss…”

“Clearly, and not a good person either.” The soft wind hits them, her hair moving under her beanie, inspecting his face as he looks ahead to the scenery past the bridge, fixing his position until he is not facing her but instead to the front before sighing. “Tell me…everything has been real so far, right?”

His question tugs at her heartstring, nodding frantically at his words. “Yes, of course, I—Everything has been real, which is why I’m telling you. I don’t want to interfere in your job for culinary school, no matter how much I desire to go there—”

“She threatened to fire you?”

“…Yeah, kind of.”

Kihyun rolls his eyes, looking ahead with a tight jaw before releasing a thick sigh. “Maybe, there’s a way around this. We could really…pretend that you’ve done something to my job or something.”

“No, Kihyun, that’s—no.” She cuts him off, taking him by the cheeks and making him turn towards her. Looking at him, pushing his hair away from his face, everything heightens when she reaches forward and traps his bottom lip in between hers, kissing him softly, barely audibly, before pulling away from him, cheek now pressed to his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck. “I can’t do that to you. You’ve been nothing but nice to me…and I’m just not that kind of girl.”

Kihyun’s fingers end up over her back, tracing the skin softly, filling her with warmth when he says: “But it’s your only chance to get to culinary school.”

“Not if I save money.”

“You can’t save money if you don’t have a job.”

“…Kihyun…” She threatens, some depth in her voice when she pulls away from him, taking the scarf in between her fingers and bringing him closer, pecking his lips once before shaking her head. “I won’t lose my job. It’s just an empty threat, I’m sure of…let’s just not think of this again, okay? Let’s continue as if this isn’t an issue.”

Kihyun breathes in through his teeth, letting a cloud of dense air out as he takes her by the face, shaking her head from side to side. “You’re so caring, it’s going to kill you one day.” He points out, eyes inspecting her features and looking for something she doesn’t know if she is giving him. It’s a cliché, what she feels for him, but she holds onto it—something about him feels like reality, like the one moment she had to live, all the hardships in love coming to his conclusion. Romance is dead, some say, but she is simply enjoying the dulcet one that grows in their hearts, much more when Kihyun accepts her as she is. For once, there is a person that she doesn’t feel like she needs to settle with, but that she gets to grow with…and that’s magical.

###

Resting her back against the cushions of Kihyun’s sofa, his fingers scrolling through his phone, his other hand settled on her waist as he lays sideways, over the center of her body, barely getting the corner of the sofa and seemingly not bothered by it, she really considers falling for him. Really, with all her might, much more when he had done his best to prepare dinner for her, fueling her stomach with more and more dishes, all from his plethora of unknown talents that she has gotten to know with the passage of time. Music softly plays from his phone, something that has to be ever present in their lives, because it relaxes her and because it is part of him.

It’s only when he locks his phone and rests it on top of the coffee table that he captures her gaze and catches her staring. He gives a smile, one that she’d frame if she could—sometimes, she thinks she has forgotten how to smile properly. It has always bit her in the back of her brain, smiling is an insecurity thing that she rarely gives herself the pleasure to give up to, but Kihyun crawled on the thin walls of her heart and kicked the door to get inside, just something that he was bound to do the moment they met over a year ago. It took months for them to even take the first step towards a romantic setting, but now that it’s here…she doesn’t want to let go.

“I have something for you.” She almost doesn’t catch his voice, tiny, soft, unlike how he usually speaks—he’s not loud, per say, but he is loud enough to be heard. In her heart, she knows everything he says comes from the depths of his soul, his beliefs, always voiced out with certainty.

“What was that?” Her voice is more levelled than his, letting her hand caress his hand as a smile blooms on her face from the blush on his cheeks. It’s not usual that he blushes—ever, for anyone, but for her…she’d get to see it a couple of times.

“I have something for you.” Kihyun says in between a groan, leaning back until his weight is resting over her abdomen, bringing a hiss out of her body before he fixes his position. “Sorry. It’s actually two somethings.”

She sits up then, being dragged away with her hands settled on his shoulders, surprising her by his hands resting on the lower part of her thighs and lifting her up to be half resting on top of his back, his weight leaned forward, barefoot and tapping away on the flooring the more he neared his small kitchen.

Never had she thought that resting her head against someone’s back would give her such leverage, that hearing the patterns of his breathing would become even more numbing than a night of sleep…and that she would like it. Someone would accept her, just like she is, with the spots she dislikes and the ones she wants to highlight, with the stories that have her shredding tears and the ones that have her wanting to go back in time, they all built the person that Kihyun likes today…and that’s something to be thankful for. Once he lowers her, softly and in front of his refrigerator, she watches him wrap his fingers around the door of the refrigerator, looking at her from over his shoulder before huffing.

“You’re not going to laugh, okay?”

“I never laugh at you, but with you.” She explains, something that has him opening the door in a hassle, standing in front of it and taking out what seems to be a cake, perfectly decorated in strawberries and whipped cream, a bit big for only two people eating it, but Kihyun licks his lips and talks about it as he closes the door with his foot.

“I baked something for you. It’s one of those wet cakes, it has cream in the middle and I don’t know if I undercooked it, but…also, I had to learn how to prepare meringue and I’m not sure if I got it down.” The man makes the most out of rambling, taking a knife with him and slicing a bit of the cake, just in time for her to grab two plates and let him place the slice down for her. “…But, I wanted to do justice to who you are as a baker and the reason why I started to look at you…so I hope you enjoy it.”

Would it be stupid to confess that no one has ever done anything like this for her? It would, but it’s something that she keeps thinking about whenever Kihyun does anything. No one has taken her home every single day without pointing out how annoying it is, much less has someone looked at her as if the world was held on her precious hands—no one has taken off their jacket to give it to her, much less have they kissed her with such casualty that it almost feels like they have been together for a lifetime. Once she takes a bite of the cake, she wonders if this is what normality is going to feel like for her as of lately. Like she deserves to be loved, past the physical aspects that she dislikes and the doubtful nature that coexists beneath her.

“This is spectacular for a first try, Ki.” She tells him, licking her bottom lip when he finally decides to dive into his own food. “You spoil me rotten.”

“…You really think I’m spoiling you?” Kihyun asks, something that makes her nod and the man can simply sigh deeply. “This is just…normal. It’s what you deserve, to have someone that gives you as much as you give.”

The words deserving rarely crossed her head, for she thought all the bad and the good in her life had happened because…it just did. There was no more answer to it, no seeking for better options, simply wishing for another day in which she can exist. The music still plays in the background when she takes a big bite of her meal, chewing while she speaks. “So, that means you’d do a lot of things for me, right?”

Kihyun moves his head from side to side, pondering. “A lot, not all, of course…but yeah, why?”

Bashfulness, typical of her to feel but not around him, only in certain occasions. After all, everything still feels damn fresh with him. “…Well, when I caught you dancing and all, you said you’d teach me how to dance…”

His lips part in one of those big grins of his. “You want us to dance now?”

“…If you want.”

This is all he needs to stand up, taking another bite of his cake before extending his arms towards her and sweeping her off the chair that held her weight up. Kihyun finds gravity in her waist, usually going a bit further until his fingers are splayed on each side of her spine, directly in the spots that have always hurt like hell…but feel cherished and loved when around him. The oxygen is taken out of her lungs when the song plays some ballad, one from a show she remembers Kihyun saying he doesn’t even watch—or maybe, he just hides some things. “Actually, dancing is pretty easy.” He instructs, her hands resting on top of his shoulders, a bit stiff when he moves his left leg to the side. “A step to the left, a step forward, a step to the right, a step back. It’s simple, just do a…square? Yeah, a square.”

Kihyun’s eyes lower to look down at her lips and she notices that she is not following his steps, staying still while she presses her chest to his. “…Am I going to look dumb?”

“I mean…dancing in the kitchen is quite dumb.” He admits. “But the point here is to be…dumb and cheesy together.”

Finally, her feet move with his, enjoying the fact that this is not as difficult as she thought it’d be. A bit awkward, yes, but still enough to have her smiling in his embrace. “Since when are you the cheesy type? I’d never take you as that kind of man.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re the epitome of cheesy with me.”

“…That makes you special, then.” Kihyun points out, making her hide her face in his shoulder, hearing the sound of his breathing while he chuckles, hands playing with the fabric of her shirt. “I never thought I’d end up like this with you, either.”

Not boyfriend and girlfriend, still, but she wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up asking him if he doesn’t take the first step soon enough. “I also didn’t…think so.” She replies, looking up and resting a faint kiss on his chin, one that leaves her lipstick splayed on his skin before humming. “But you’re the realest thing I’ve ever lived.”

“What does that even mean?” Kihyun asks in between laughter, throwing his head back slightly before looking down at her.

No one has ever had stars in their eyes when looking at her, though she has dated in the past—it has always felt like she has had to, not that she has wanted to. Breathing with him comes with acceptance, coexisting at the same time as him feels like a blessing—to hear such mindsets, to be held with such tenderness, such delicacy, and yet such empowering nature that comes with him, with the energy he brings her, is the reality she has always looked for. “Oh, you know,” She tries to shrug it off, but he doesn’t settle for that, keeping the moment going when he shakes his head. “I—No one has ever liked me…you know, for the real me. And I have never met someone as realistic as you: kind but also rough, torn at the edges but yet so complete. That’s real, that’s you…and that’s who I want.”

Kihyun lifts his eyebrows, perhaps a bit emotional but not showing it, wrapping his arms around her and stopping any dancing they had started to simply cage her in his embrace. Kihyun kisses her cheeks, her shoulders, takes her hands in his and presses soft kisses to them before looking up at her, from behind her knuckles, sunlight in him even when moonlight seeps through his windows. “…And then, I’m the cheesy one.”

“Sorry, that’s how you make me.”

“Come on,” Kihyun says, clearly enjoying the attention before letting out a shaky breath and reaching forward and pressing a kiss to her lips. No one has made her feel like the rain in her heart is making flowers grow instead of making her sulkier, but there he is, the reality that she has always looked for in the form of a deliveryman—of someone he should technically not be dating. “Do you want to keep dancing or…?”

“Just kiss me, Kihyun.”

“I can make that happen.”

###

Aroma of coffee, nicely decorated tables and perhaps a man who is ten minutes late.

It sounds far more interesting than it really is, but the romanticism of the place has brought her to be thankful of finally having a free day and to be able to spend it with none other than the deliveryman that should have started his lunch break ten minutes ago—hence, he is still probably delivering around the city and leaving her waiting. While looking down at her nails, she wonders when is the last time she has done them…probably before she even got into baking, and when she takes a sip of her coffee, already a bit lukewarm, she realizes just how much she has missed since she started her career. A coffee date shouldn’t be such an impressionable part of her life, much less to Kihyun, but it is—spending money on herself, on having a nice afternoon, suddenly has turned into something that she should appreciate, and she does, but the lack of enjoyment that she had gone through in the past is almost…impossible to think about.

Everything feels right for once, like hiding is not so wrong when she is her happiest. It only took a few days after her encounter with Kihyun in the kitchen, dancing like two madmen, for him to ask to be in a relationship, perhaps not long-lasting, that much she doesn’t know, but productive, serious, eventually fulfilling for the two. This romanticism is not necessary to exist in someone’s life—but hey, fuck it, she wants to enjoy her life for once, feel like she can be loved and worshipped just as much as she can love and worship someone else. It is then that she realizes that not having Kihyun by her side would be too much of a strain for her heart.

Sometimes, she imagines what Haeun would say if she got to know the truth, or she’d think what would happen when…eventually, in the future, she has to come clean about it. What happens if the relationship becomes more serious, if one day they decide to take a step into marriage or living together, of making it less than juvenile dating and more of profoundness, when she gets to work for the first time and can’t simply stop looking at him or when they go home together, and it could happen that someone could simply have forgotten something and encounter the couple. Damned, she is, to ever think of such a thing…of the end before the beginning, of the culprit of their break up, but it’s something that clouds her brain in judgement.

You have to ruin him.

…Haeun had said so, and while the subject rarely came back up, and if it did, she changed the subject, it is only a matter of time before Haeun notices. It settles uncomfortably on her chest, it has her clinging onto the cup of coffee and wishing things were different, that she could find a job just as easily as anyone else, as if her world was not going to be destroyed by some top baker in the continent.

Nonetheless, her train of thought is changed when she sees someone rushing through the streets, hands raised in the air, making some of the cars honk at his mere presence, wind blowing on his hair and almost knocking off his typical hat as he finally crosses the street and makes his way inside the café. His breathing is raged, cheeks tinted pink, lips connecting in a smile when he goes over to her. Kihyun does this for her, and for him too—because he likes her so much that he has decided to be with her, even when he could also potentially lose his job if his boss knew who exactly he was dating…or where she worked at.

“Kihyun, don’t do that ever again.” She tells him, pulling him by the sleeve of his t-shirt and placing a kiss to his lips, the taste of coffee exchanged from her to him before he pulls away with a smile. “Hey, don’t be smiling about that, I mean it. You could have gotten ran over—”

“I put my hands up for a reason.” He says, perhaps not thinking straight before he sits down, letting out a big sigh along the way. “…And I definitely won’t do it again because I feel like my balls are now in my throat and…yeah, it was scary.”

Her hand comes forward to feel over his heart before hissing near his face. “Don’t be saying stuff like that in public. People are going to think we are into some…questionable shit.”

“Like eating my own balls? No one is going to think that.” Kihyun whispers, chuckling at her words before pressing a sweet kiss to her lips. Maybe, it’s worth trying simply hiding the most precious thing she has had in her life, better than the aroma of pastries or baking, better than some culinary school. Maybe, she’d get to have both worlds—her reality and the one that is more-so like a nightmare and a dream at the same time. “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

With a squint of her eyes and a push of the small plate that holds his favorite muffin towards his way, she speaks through gritted teeth. “It’s okay. I’m going to make fun of this moment someday, but that day is not today.”

“You know, some girls would think it’s cute.”

She frowns at that, smacking his hand that has reached forward to interlock with hers. “…Oh no, baby, which girls? Ones that are into ghosts of their boyfriends?”

The sound of his laughter, joyful and loud, is the only acceptance she needs to get ready for. As long as he is there, the future could only fall into place, connect into perfect puzzle pieces, promises to be mended, lives to be lived. No one could stop her, or so she thought.

###

Macaroons are such simplistic, necessary, craved for pastries that she is used to making, but she finds herself having a difficult time today, out of all days, to prepare them when she feels a set of eyes landing on her. Her boss, typical of her to be a judgmental person even from afar, seated by the door, phone resting on her lap and inspecting her every move. She should get used to this—bakers and chefs alike are supposed to get used to being watched, but Haeun is there for other reasons. She can sense it deep in her bones, wanting nothing but to get out of there and pretend that her boss doesn’t exist.

Just when she is happy, there is someone talking in the back of her head—the voice belongs to Haeun, most of the time, and it reminds her that it’s either Kihyun or a job, Kihyun or culinary school. As much as she likes the man, dating him is a risk she is taking because she wants to…even if it would cost her the career that she has worked so painfully to craft. Haeun has said it a thousand times—who even wants a worker that can’t stand up for long periods of time? That sentence had been told long ago and it still bothered, irked her, mostly because she knows she’s not broken. With predicaments? Yes, just like everyone else in this world, but a condition should not be a matter for her to be judged as a worker.

Her name is called, making her hum but keep her attention on the bowl in between her fingers, whisking and mixing just in time to hear Haeun’s voice. “You haven’t updated me with our little seduction plan for Kihyun.” Our, because suddenly Haeun wants to drag her into this, make her an ‘us’ problem instead of something that she has thought of on her own and wanted to manipulate her to do. “The sales seem to be going fine for them…”

“I’d know if I worked for them, Boss.” She replies, wanting nothing more than to shape the mixture, plop it in the oven, and simply forget about Haeun’s existence. The woman continues to pry, however, like the people she has always been used to…sadly, her reality, those who cling at her, dig their nails, take the best away from her and leave a broken part on her soul. Destructive, in a way.

“…Fair enough.” Haeun says, releasing a big sigh into the air, chair creaking under her weight. “He’s still very into you.”

Silence. She doesn’t want to say anything, much more when she is into him, too.

“And my offer stands. The booking for culinary school will be in a month. I think you have until then to do something about—” Culinary school, Kihyun, her boss, everything seems to be too much, enough to bring a headache that no number of painkillers could suffice. “Kihoon? Kihyun? Honey, culinary school is difficult to get into, not to say expensive, I really think you should just give it a try. Besides, it’s not like you’d like him all that much. I have never seen you like anyone, to start with.”

But what does she know? What does an old woman that has never really gotten over her nineties love affair know about her current love life? The only thing she has known in her life is manipulate her, twist her and turn her into the little marionette she wants to play with. “Ah, Boss, I don’t know…I really don’t know the guy.”

“But you do.”

“Huh?”

“He talks to you sometimes, that should be enough.” Haeun replies, not standing by her side and contrasting her with her height, a tad smaller than the baker. “You know, these insecurities you have will take you nowhere,” That much she knows, it’s second nature for her to know that she has stopped herself from being just because she fears existence itself. “You need to make more decisions. Don’t worry, it’s something that can be fixed. The moment you learn how to grow up, how to take matters into your own hands and turn into the woman you have always desired to be, it’s the moment you finally realize that no one is worth your career.” She claims with pride, chest puffed out, letting out a dreamy sigh that had taken away any concentration she had on the macaroons. “I did that, and look at me: great car, great bakery, great…life. I don’t mind stepping over a few people to get to the top.”

The top, she had never imagined ever being one of the best. That’s just not her. Shaking her head, she looks towards the mixture once again, taking the dough in between her hands and rolling it softly. “Sorry, Boss. I’m afraid…I could try but I don’t think it’s going nowhere. Kihyun and I hold no type of relationship.”

“…Are you really that willing to lose your job?” She asks, tapping her fingers against her back. “Don’t make a bad decision. Don’t disappoint me.”

“I said—”

“…I don’t care, I said don’t disappoint me.” Haeun points out softly, giving a pat to her back before turning on her heels and getting out of the kitchen.

The waterfalls would have started if only she hadn’t given a deep breath, scared of the situation she was placed in. As long as Haeun did not get to know the reality of the situation, then everything should be alright, she promises herself, knowing fully well that Kihyun is also getting scolded by his boss—for even looking towards the bakery or smiling her way. It seems as though being in a bad economic state suddenly makes the rich people in the world willing to destroy their lives. She closes her eyes tightly, smacking the dough back into the bowl and leaning her weight forward, limbs shaking when she covers her face and lets out another sigh. Breathing, that’s all she needs to do, she’d keep her job and her boyfriend, her job and her boyfriend, there shouldn’t be ever a decision, she doesn’t have to pick something in her life for once and simply enjoy both worlds.

Worlds that are colliding, crumbling, falling apart. Worlds that she had never imagined on having, that had once been happy but now seem to want to break each other apart, even when she is the most at ease she has been in a while. Tears fall from her eyes, a loud sniffle and her back straightening her actions to stop them, leaning her head back and wanting them to go back into their place. If Kihyun knew about this…he’d probably say something to Haeun, he’s honest, he would totally eat her boss alive, so she’d rather stay quiet. For her sake.

If she wants to have him, she just has to stay silent. A secret, maybe Haeun will forget…

Before any of her coworkers could barge in, the youngest to be exact, and catch her in such a state, she pats a napkin onto her face, not caring that she rubs a bit of her makeup off, letting out a deep sigh and returning on her task of making macaroons. Maybe, this will clear her mind.

###

“Kihyun, you know I really don’t like the whole ‘covering my eyes’ thing—”

“Is that you saying you don’t trust me what I hear?”

She grabs onto the hands that are latched over her eyes before sighing. “I trust you, baby, I just don’t trust your intentions with the obvious surprise party you’ve been preparing for two weeks.”

Though, nothing eases her heart more than knowing that this birthday she woke up to the sweetest message from Kihyun, and that he has been running around for the past two weeks, obviously leaving some trails of his preparations in his apartment when she went to visit him. It’s a different celebration, of course, but she doesn’t know why someone like Kihyun would even bother preparing such a thing when he already knew that she guessed his intentions.

His hands let go of her, wrapping his arms around her waist and speaking close to her ear, taut chest pressed to her back, lips hovering over her ear when he speaks softly, wiggling with each step forward, almost giving penguin steps together. “Listen, there are a lot of people who care about you and love you inside your apartment and I just need, like really need, you to pretend like you’re surprised.” A fleeting kiss is pressed to her ear, the noise making her bend her neck and let out a small giggle. Once standing in front of her door, Kihyun whispers. “Promise me you will at least make the effort of being a good actress?”

Shrugging her shoulders and pressing further into his body even when he is using her keys to get inside her apartment, she hums in delight. “I don’t think I can, just to get you riled up…you know.”

“Please?” He begs, a whine in his tone when he leans his weight forward, opening the door slightly. “I really prepared this with all my heart poured into it, I never do shit like this.”

He really does look like a gift from heaven right now, white button up tucked into some slacks, a few buttons opened that give a glimpse of his chest. While she would have definitely not been mad spending some time alone with him, probably watching movies and receiving all his love and affection, for now she settles for a kiss on his lips and a few thankful words that have him smiling. The moment would have been even more precious had someone not opened the door in a quickened manner, bringing Kihyun stumbling forward—and for this, her body as well—thanks to his hold on the door.

Cheering and clapping fill the air, her lights being turned on and in her small apartment, she just knows she’s going to get a noise complaint and probably some words from the people downstairs about the noise of the immense amount of footsteps that come when people wrap their arms around her. Some friends, some from high school, others from her first job, others that she has met along the way, some family members—or the ones that still live in the city—and definitely some coworkers. The smell in the air is dense with alcohol, mixed with a fruity scent, and the baked goods that she just knows have to be in there. It’s only when she gets some time to breathe and she feels Kihyun pressing a quick kiss to her temple, that she realizes that there is someone that has still not congratulated her, moving forward and looking out of place in such a spot, such casualty and simplicity of an apartment, when she wraps a loose arm around her shoulders, leaving her frozen.

Haeun chuckles against the woman’s skin. “I’m guessing you really are having the happiest of birthdays,” She says, sparing a look towards Kihyun before the man takes the hint. His hand on her waist falters, disappears as he moves away and tries not to look her way. They had been caught, apparently, and in a light that had Haeun really think that she had been able to betray Kihyun’s trust simply to go to culinary school…or to get her job. Once the man is gone, Haeun gives her the biggest grin, jutting her chin forward and chuckling. “You had it hidden, sneaky one—”

“Boss, I—How did you get here?” She asks, looking around before the woman shrugged her shoulders.

“You see, I heard my workers talk about this surprise party of yours, but I didn’t expect to see what I saw. The innocent, sweet baker of mine is getting it on with the deliveryman.” Shame, she has never felt like so, everyone else chatting and living their own lives, dancing and thinking that she is having a great time when her heart feels like it might come into a sudden stop at any given moment, breaths coming in short pants. Her eyes look to the right, seeing her boyfriend making some kind of sign, using his hand to go over his neck in the form of ‘cut it out’. “But that’s…eventful. I was planning on giving you the news that you’d be fired today, but seeing that you were only keeping it from me.”

“Boss—”

“I shall tell you—”

“Boss.” She speaks louder, only to have the woman shaking her head, smiling brightly when she says:

“I got you into culinary school. You’ll be going to Paris to perfect your craft, then become the head baker of my proximal inauguration in Paris, as well.” Haeun speaks with certainty, power, like she has always had—over her, over the world, she’d never take no as an answer. Her chest deflates at that, seeing the opportunity that is suddenly put in front of her. Someone like her has never thought of travelling, much less has she thought she’d be good enough to go to a Parisian culinary school, being the head baker of a place is also something that in her solitude would have been impossible to even phantom inside her head. “That is…if you break it off with him. I don’t want to have any connection or…rather, peace offering with Kwangho.”

The world shatters at that, paralyzed in her spot as she tries to remember who she really is—the woman that Kihyun had fallen in love with, the one that he touches with all the love in the world, of lust and adoration, of complete happiness of having her as his and vice versa. She can’t get rid of him, like he means nothing, breaking up would take a part of her away, would turn her into the person that she has never imagined being but always desired to be. Maybe, she is happy as she is—as her imperfect self, that would stutter when speaking to someone of importance and that is a bit on the insecure side. Maybe, there doesn’t need to me strength inside her if that means stepping over other people—hurting others that had done nothing but love her unconditionally.

“Boss, let me speak for a second.” She says, lifting her hands in the air and looking around the room before biting down on her bottom lip. “I don’t think I can break up with him.”

Haeun seems surprised by the news, lifting her eyebrows and fixing the glasses that fall down the bridge of her nose. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

The issue has always fallen on her boss, on how she pushes and pushes until she gets the most out of someone—until she drains them and turns them into someone like her. “Well, I’ve given you an opportunity of a lifetime just in one condition. You don’t know if Kihyun is even going to last forever. Your knowledge does.” Haeun replies. “Loyalty does. If you stay with him, you’d trash all the years of us working together away. All those moments in which I believed in you…gone to waste.”

She should know what Haeun is doing, she should concentrate on the man that is looking for her—or her birthday, god, completely ruined at the situation that is suddenly put over her hands. “I’ll think about it.” She whispers, hearing the sound of Haeun’s giggle when she moves away and goes towards Kihyun, only being able to give him a hug and a kiss on the lips to shut all the words that scream inside her head, that want more answers, that need to decide something to make it her reality.

Kihyun has always been the realest thing she has ever lived, the perfect night, the perfect day, the immaculate in imperfections. The memories, all cherished, all loved by her, all caught in between her fingers after months of dating. Not too many, but just enough. Just enough to love him.

To feel him.

To not want to hurt him.

“Is everything alright?” He asks with his wide-eyed gaze, something that she can simply dismiss with a sigh and another hug to his body.

“Yes, I was just taken aback by everything.”

But that’s a lie. Kihyun may be the most honest event that happened in her life, but maybe she isn’t his.

###

When she started her reality with Kihyun, did she ever think it was going to end?

From the start, maybe, she had done so…she doesn’t recall. What she knows is that she had never imagined the future with him—she liked to live in their present, in what makes their endless love palpable, how he simply took her out of her shell and showed to her that there was nothing to be ashamed for. The depth of her back, the aches of her body, the sighs that would leave her lips out of tiredness—even what hides underneath those oversized clothes of hers, inside her head in her biggest questions about life. He loved all of those, after all those days, he continued to love those moments in which he could see the magic of her working, when a touch of his hand is enough to electrify something inside her head and a smile to appear on her face.

He even almost got ran over because of her, and that just goes on to show that, yes, Kihyun was scared of whatever they had gotten to…of being their real selves with each other and letting the other love the most intricate of things about the other, but he still kept on. He’s brave, unlike her, not insecure of what she feels for her. He thinks there will be many chances of a job but not a lot of chances of having her—romance can be found, but she can’t be found again, in a way.

After a long day at the job, laying on the flooring of her apartment to keep her back straight, she realizes she has been staring at the ceiling for far too long, thinking of the promises she has made, the times she kissed over his bare chest, right on top of his heart, and whispered that she loved him…and she did. She really does love Kihyun more than she has loved anyone else, with all her might and glory, with all the confidence that she doesn’t have…but the questions in the back of her head tell her that she’d be homeless, rather destroyed if she didn’t take this opportunity up. Haeun would do anything in her willpower to destroy her career, something that Haeun could do in the matter of seconds.

All the tears would not have meant nothing.

All these days of worrying would have gone to waste.

Her eyes close when she finally presses the red button on the screen, calling Kihyun and pressing the phone to her ear. Lately, he has noticed how strange she is acting—it has tipped him over the edge, released the tension from him and made him say one or two things out of pure frustration, he just needed her to speak, but she couldn’t. Now, in a position in which she had to say something, she wondered what exactly she was doing. That’s the answer, she doesn’t know, there is nothing else she can do other than call him and—

“Hey babe, what’s the matter?”

Time won’t fly anymore, it has…with how much she has enjoyed their relationship, but something tells her that this night will go obnoxiously slow. She finally opens her eyes, blinded by the light on the ceiling, by the ache on her chest—it has always been her back that bothered, but now it feels like her heart just no longer wants to function with her, with this body that she no longer proclaims as hers but of life. As always, she makes the decisions based on the flow of time, not on what she wants— “Kihyun, I think we need to break up.”

Kihyun is honest, he always has been, he seriously should have been mad and out of his brain when he heard those words coming from her lips, but with a deep tone of his voice—almost downright coming from his chest, he asks: “Why?”

“That day…that night of my birthday, a few weeks ago, Haeun offered me to go to culinary school—”

“I really can’t believe you.”

“She said I needed to break up with you because she had found me a spot in a culinary school in Paris and—”

He actually sighs, expected of him to do so when she already feels tears threatening to appear in her eyes. No. She’s actually crying by now, aware of what she is doing—or has done. “That’s not an excuse. It has always been about your job and what you could lose, not about what I was betting when getting into this relationship. Because I love you, you get that?”

“I’m so sorry,” She whispers, wanting nothing more than for him to forgive him for the plane ticket that Haeun has sent her and the clothes that she is thinking of preparing just to leave to Paris. “I love you, too, Kihyun, but you know how difficult it has been for me to get a job in this industry and I don’t think I will get an opportunity like this.”

“You could continue dating me, even through culinary school.”

“What if Haeun got to know this? She’d—”

“Haeun, Haeun, Haeun. When will you stop caring what she thinks?!”

Something breaks inside of her, the sound of his voice enraged and torn, much more when she says: “I’m just being honest—I need to be loyal, to my dream, to my boss…you know I will have zero chances of getting an opportunity like this—”

“You know what? Fine.”

The sound of the phone on the other end finishing the call leaves her in absolute disdain, knowing that she’d never live a reality as beautiful as the one she had with Kihyun. Perhaps, reaching a good level in her career would never feel quite as real as the pain tearing her apart, now holding her chest to control the soft sobs that leave her lips.

She had broken all her promises, just in the name of loyalty.

But she had not been loyal to his love for him.

#kihyun scenarios #kihyun #monsta x scenarios #monsta x #kpop scenarios #the anti-love club #writing #monsta x au #monsta fluff #monsta x angst #kihyun au #kihyun fluff #kihyun angst #thoughts?

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years

Text

Soul Shards part 4

I have nothing to say for myself. Don’t kill me? I tried to edit this, but it’s longer than what I’m used to, so I probably fucked up somewhere along the way.

This... will probably need another part. Or should I leave it like this? I dunno.

Enjoy!

~~~.~~~.~~~

Timothy’s eyes shone hatefully. It was the most beautiful shade of icy blue he had ever seen. Even if the emotion was such a dark one, they weren’t empty anymore.

-It’ll be over soon -he shushed, slowly sinking to his knees and bringing the man into his lap, almost engulfing him between arms and firm chest, as if to protect him from the pain that was coming from deep inside; distantly, he heard Kon and Jon’s voices as they approached, their concern obvious but unimportant at the moment-, you just have… a lot of emotional catching up to do.

~~~.~~~.~~~

16 - 21

The young man raised his eyes from the documents he was revising, merely glancing over Damian’s case files.

-Zsasz -was all he said, before going back to his own thing.

Damian a year ago might have gotten mad, thinking Timothy was sprouting spur of the moment lies to get him to stop nagging him. He knew better now, that the man didn’t need more than a second of looking at his carefully collected evidence to make a verdict.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t curious, though.

-How? -was all he asked, giving the file a closer look, trying and failing to see what the other could- He was at Arkham at the time of the crimes, there’s witnesses and video evidence.

Timothy didn’t seem to be paying attention to him any longer, answering by rote but not taking his empty eyes from his own work.

-Not Zsasz himself, but not a copycat either. This is the work of a lover, or someone romantically interested in the bastard. Could be a courting gift, a mean to attract his attention, or both. Look deeply into any woman…

-Or man, or both, or neither -he felt compelled to add. Timothy shrugged, but his soul gave an approving humm.

-... or man, or both, or neither -the detective conceded, dropping his papers in favor of his coffee cup and tablet-, visiting him this last few months, or that could have benefited from any of Zsasz murders; maybe he unknowingly saved someone by killing their abuser or something like that, and they fell for him. Think Misa Amane from Death Note.

As he did any time Drake dropped a reference, Damian made a mental note to check this out. At least, “Death note” sounded more his style than the time he had to watch both Mean Girls movies.

-How do you know it’s a love interest and not, say, an apprentice?

Without dropping his cup, and balancing the tablet against his legs where he was sitting on the couch, Timothy raised his other hand and pushed one of Damian’s papers across the coffee table towards him. One of the autopsy’s photos.

-The cuts. Zsasz usually makes them all across the body, picking certain places that would make his victims bleed to death as slowly and painfully as he feels like. These, instead, are focused on the chest area, almost circling the person’s heart. In this one, a victim that was murdered specifically on Valentine's day, the cuts are even closer to it, almost framing the heart.

-...I can see it -he muttered, eyes widening. After two weeks of useless tumbling around this case, it was only when he caved and went to Timothy for help that he finally had some possible lead on it. And, as every time he did this before, a few minutes was all he needed to figure it out and to point him in the right direction.

-I’d hurry, if I were you. The least thing Gotham needs is a new villian power couple, a “Harley and Joker” take two. It was just too good when she left him for Ivy, so don’t allow anyone else to take their places as the criminal lovers of the city.

Damian nodded and went back to his files on Zsasz, energies and will renewed. Timothy ignored him once again in favor of his own things, and silence enveloped them. He didn’t mind; the icy blue soul’s warm encouragement was all he needed.

----.----

-It has grown -commented the older of the two, watching from the corner of his eye the souls on Damian’s lap. They had to fight some sea monsters at the beach, and sand had gotten into his pouch, so he stopped at the earliest chance to clean it up.

It was the first time Timothy saw his soul in years. Damian had being careful to not take it out around him, scared it might spook the man into leaving.

If anything, he seemed curious.

-It has? -he asked, dropping his own back on its hiding place and rising the other to eye level- It still fits in my palm the same way it always did.

Timothy rolled his eyes.

-Yeah, and your hand is the exact size it was when you were twelve? Brat, you are already taller than me -wipe that smile off your face, we both knew this day would come. You grew, and if it still fits the same, it’s only logical that it did as well. You probably didn’t notice because you see it all the time, and since your soul has also grown, there’s no sure way for you to compare them and realize it.

Amazed, and more than a little happy, Damian examined it closer. He was right, of course; now that it was brought to his attention, he couldn’t unsee it.

-A soul grows and thrives on multiple things -kept going the other, shaking his head to get as much sand as possible off his hair-, both positive or negative.

Damian knew this, has seen the sheer size of the Joker’s rotten soul, doubled after his latest killing spree: it fed on the pain of his victims. It was a disgusting sight, but one that proved just how different the psychopaths they fought saw life, and how unlikely it was they’d ever stop.

-And in this case? -he asked, refraining himself from saying ‘your’ instead of ‘this’.

A shrug- If I had to guess, love, like most people’s. It was what always healed me, time and time again, growing up; love for my friends, parents, family, people I liked… It started to shrunk when half the people I cared for died, and the other half didn’t seem to want my feelings nor return them. Poor, past-me’s soul was starved to death. You seem to have it well fed, tough.

It was said tonelessly, but Damian felt two sizes taller all the same. The soul at hand seemed to shine in front of his eyes (although it was probably just the sun’s reflection), and a quick succession of images flashed across his eyes.

Kon El, Bart Allen, Cassie Sandsmark and a few other heroes he recognized from Drake’s old Young Justice photos, going out of their way to seek him out and keep him company in his self imposed soulless exile.

Grayson, Father and Todd sitting quietly at the Cave’s Red Robin memorial (with cracked glass; The Red Hood hadn’t reacted well the first time he saw it), sharing stories of the man as they knew him: brother, son, childhood friend.

Cain and Brown, sitting back to back, holding the other’s soul shard; Brown delightedly absorbing the love Timothy had put in Cain’s icy blue compass, and the other carefully caressing the almost black locket, cocooning it in her hands, as if trying to breath emotions back into the almost empty thing.

Himself, tirelessly looking for information on the man years ago, following him around more recently. Taking hits for him during the times they worked together, doing his best to keep Grandfather away, sneakily replacing his coffee for decaf.

(taking care of his body)

Holding the precious icy blue orb in his palms, cradling it against his chest when sleeping or fondling with it between his fingers when troubled or distracted. Constant, tender touch. Never damaging it. Never leaving it alone. Never ignoring the feelings it sent his way.

(taking care of his soul)

Timothy looks indifferent, typing away at his new phone (he changed them almost every day, no doubt to keep Oracle or Father from finding him), but his soul reacts beautifully to Damian’s thoughts.

Fed by love, indeed.

-----.----

17 - 22

After he saved some children and comforted them during patrol, when he had (briefly) the upper hand against Cain in a spar, when he successfully talked Todd down from blowing up a building, when he stood firm against father in order to protect Jon, Colin and the rest of his friends from a scolding, when he tried (and failed) to help Alfred bake Grayson a cake for his birthday… each time, he would feel a tug from the not-so-little-anymore orb, and when he took it out of his pouch to inspect it, he’d always see a new, beautiful green and gold spot slowly dying the area surrounding the core.

Little specks of his colours, appearing here and there at times that seemed random to him, but evidently were appreciated by Drake’s soul.

It scared him so badly he could barely sleep without nightmares. Because, even if it meant tentatively good things (he was leaving a mark on Timothy where not even Todd had reached, was securing himself a way into his heart), it also meant a change.

What if, after all his efforts, this made impossible for Drake's soul to fit into his body after all?

After the soulless man had pointed it out for him, he begun to notice things. Not only the suddenly appearing, breathtaking looking spots on the icy blue sea of his soul, but how it seemed to shine more with each passing moment, how the feelings it gave off were more intense (it had come as a surprise; he would never had guessed they were muted before, until he was almost blown away by the soul’s rage after an encounter with Deathstroke left Nightwing at death’s doors), how the small little bumps and dents in it were filled out as the soul grew, healthier and prettier.

It had grown so full of feelings, so strong, he feared. What if, even if he got Timothy to take it back, his body couldn't accept it due to its changes? Or what if the accumulated feelings were too much for him to take, to process? He certainly had some emotional baggage to catch up to, and he had little to no information on soulless people accepting their core back to properly predict what outcome they might face.

He was scared by the changes. He was excited about his colours slowly taking space into Timothy’s soul. He couldn’t rest properly anymore.

The soul was a faithful companion on his long, sleepless nights. It spoke to him, in a language of feelings and abstract-like images he had come to learn with the years. It returned his love and care tenfold, in a way he knew only Drake, with his seemingly unending flow of emotions, could do.

A part of him (Wayne, hero, martyr) didn’t believe himself deserving of it. None on his family, with maybe Cain and Pennyworth as the exceptions, were worth the unconditional trust and loyalty Timothy bestowed upon them.

The part that was purely Al Ghul (proud, selfish, greedy) asked for moremoremore, and only himhimhim.

That didn’t help his insomnia.

Neither did Timothy’s warm comfort.

The feelings, on both ends, only grew.

-------.-------

When he finally gathered courage and went to the source, Timothy himself, to show him the changes on the orb, the man only hummed, undeterred in his task of cleaning the kitchennet of this small place he was using for the week. They were somewhere in Singapore, and Damian could see the sea from the living room window.

-It’s such a shame, really -he spoke, as his hands worked steadily and with the ease of familiarity on making both coffee and Damian’s favorite tea. Never let it be said he didn’t know how to host. Another muscle memory skill, no doubt.

-What is it?

-You fell victim to Robin’s Third Law. I thought you might have been excepted from it, but obviously not. So sad. If I had an Alexa, I’d have her play sad violin tunes.

Ignoring the last bit, he took his eyes from where he was comparing the blue and green souls (his and Drake’s), and glanced in his direction.

-Third Law?

He never heard of it before. He would remember if Father or Grayson told him about it.

-Hmm -he nodded, brining a tray with the beverages and cookies to the low table, taking his seat in front of Damian, back to the window (whether this was trust in him to watch out for him in case they were attacked, or he simply didn’t care, he didn’t know)-. It’s a theory I developed while Stephanie was Robin, and you only confirmed it for me. First Law: Each Robin shall have his or her Batgirl. Dick and Jason had Barbara, me and Steph (though very briefly on her case) had Cass, and you currently have Steph. Second Law: Each Robin will have either a Super, a Speedster, or both, as his or her friend and teammate. Dick had Wally, Jason Bizzarro, I had both Kon and Bart, Steph teamed up with Kara for a while there, and you have Jon.

Blinking rapidly, he nodded. It- it was too much of a coincidence. Timothy’s claims, as always, had their merit, no matter how far fetched it seemed to have three unescapable facts following the wearer of the Robin mantle.

-And the Third Law?

-Each Robin will fall in love with their predecessor, without a happy ending.

That stopped him cold, tea cup halfway to his mouth.

He knew?

It must have shown on his face, because the man rolled his eyes.

-Just because I don’t have feelings of my own any longer doesn’t mean I can’t recognize them on someone else. I told you, the soul that belonged to me -he nods in the direction of Damian’s lap, where he had placed the soul while they eat- thrived in love. It’s almost the size it was back then, when I was young, idealistic and stupid.

A sip of coffee. Timothy’s soul reached out tentatively, it’s metaphorical touch brushing Damian’s own, a wave of lamenting and corresponding. He didn’t want to focus on what it meant.

-Dick loved the boy he was, the little Robin his parents raised, that flew on the trapeze without a care on the world. That kid died the night his parents fell. Jason most likely had a crush on Dick back when he was Robin, though the way he was treated by him back then killed that tentative love. I know, because I studied him for years, until I learned everything there was to learn about my predecessor and friend.

Damian listened, but half his mind was on the unrelenting wave of feelings Timothy’s soul was sending his. There was a message there, but he was way too overwhelmed to understand it.

-Myself, well, since you have that thing -he pointed to Damian’s lap, then shrugged-, you must know about my hopeless, tortuous love for the bastard. You know, even though past me trained himself with a flight or fight response to him, it still took me some battle time to go for the fight one? My body couldn’t seem to settle into the idea of hurting him -he sighed, shaking his head- Stupid little brat.

-Th-then… What about… Brown did have you. Her... her love didn’t have a tragedy following.

TImothy merely raised an eyebrow.

-Even before she faked her death, I was kind of an asshole with her, always demanding she hang up the cape. Then, when she came back, I was so pissed and betrayed, I couldn’t even look in her direction as much as I couldn’t take my eyes away; from what I remember, it was hell. I’m pretty sure a part of her will always love past me, just like him would always love her a bit, but they’re never getting back to what they were. There’s just too much polluted water under the bridge.

-Her shard is almost completely black and empty -he muttered, eyes dragged against his will to the Icy blue (and green and gold, now) soul.

Timothy laded his head- Doesn’t surprise me. Kon, Bart and Cassie all have theirs in almost perfect shape, though some spots here and there are losing their colours. They were absolutely freaked out when it started to happen, came straight to me to yell about friendship, bonds and shit like that. I’m guessing both Cass and Alfred’s pieces are the same -at Damian’s reluctant nod, he smirked- about time, too.

Damian didn’t comment on it, because he was well aware of how much Drake wished for all his soul shards to go completely null. When that happened, his soul would have definitely died, no take backs.

There was also the matter of the soul core, in Damian’s possession, that kept on thriving and growing, but Drake didn’t seem too worried about it, which scared Damian in turn.

-And, lastly, young current Robin. In love -he smirked-, ah, no, corresponded love, judging by the green spots, with his predecessor. Tough luck. The soul might have feelings for you, but the body certainly doesn’t (muscle memory from back then is a bitch, isn’t it?), and those by themselves are not enough, are they? Such a tragedy.

He smirked while talking, empty eyes not really caring about Damian’s crushed heart.

He hated him, a little, just then. Not nearly as much as he loved him, sadly.

-------.-------

Watching him through the monitors of the cave was such a normal thing for him to do, it no longer called to the attention of his family members. They just accepted it as one more of Damian’s oddities and moved on.

Sometimes, Grayson or Todd would stop by. They would comment on some sparring mistake he made, or marvel at the mission report when Drake’s explanation on the thought process that drove him to solve it was beyond amazing, longing and pain lacing their words.

Cain and Brown rarely accompanied him, but when they did, it was their choice on what to watch, and more often than not it was some funny, endearing thing, like Drake’s comm quips, or mask recordings on the cheesy puns he threw to his enemies.

Father never stayed, once Damian took a seat by the Batcomputer. It was beyond frustrating, his decision to pretend his son was dead, from the memorial to avoiding all talk of him unless forced. Timothy was out there, and Damian held in his pouch the answer to his predicament, but no, Father would sooner think him dead than deal with the emotional rollercoaster Damian was currently riding.

Timothy defied death itself when everyone else thought Father dead. He went toe to toe with a devil like his Grandfather, and came out on top, for him. It angered him, not seeing such devotion returned. Todd’s death and later criminal career had undoubtedly messed with his emotional bonds with all his children, but this was just ridiculous. They fought over it, often. They fought a lot, these days; his older siblings said it was a rite of passage, to reach that moment when Robin was just done with Batman’s shit.

-Master Damian, you never showed up for supper. I took the liberty of bringing some leftovers for you to snack on here.

Lost as he was, both in thought and in footage of Timothy reaching a compromise with Poison Ivy, he had to repress a startled jump; it would be unbecoming of him, with all his training. Though, Pennyworth probably knew anyway. He always did.

-Thank you -he nodded, accepting the plate stacked with sandwiches. The old butler left a cool glass of water by the computer’s keyboard, and his eyes went up to the image of Timothy returning home after another successful mission. His tired eyes seemed to soften.

-How is Master Timothy fearing, young sir?

As sure as he was that everyone suspected him, only Alfred directly addressed the fact that Damian went to his old charge, time and time again. Even so, when he asked for “Master Timothy”, he always referred to the same.

Wordlessly, one hand holding a sandwich, he retrieved the soul next to his from the pouch. The spots weren’t bigger than last time, but more numerous.

One finger softly caressed the orb. He wouldn’t feel it, but Damian could, and it always warmed him the way Timothy’s soul reacted to the old butler’s touch.

-To think I let a young man under my care to go starved... -muttered the man. He hadn’t taken well when Damian confied on him the reason why the blue orb used to be so little.

-It was a shared mistake, Pennyworth. If anything -he nodded towards the man’s bowtie, where the small icy blue shard still shone- it’s evident how you -and Cain- were far from the worst perpetrators. The fault lies on the rest of us.

The man sighed- It’s such a shame, truly. Master Timothy was such a bright, full of life young man… his heart might have been naive, but it rarely steered him wrong.

While he spoke, the man went around Damian, reaching for the keyboard. A few clicks later, and a video file he never saw before was brought forth. Timothy’s young face appeared on the screen, and Damian paused, softly putting his glass back down.

On screen, his predecessor, down to his old Robin pants and no shirt, was finishing a training routine on the mats.This one, he didn’t recognize.

-I searched every bit of information on Drake, how…?

As he asked, another figure appeared on screen, this time… an odd version of Nightwing. He started needling Timothy (the file lacked audio), seemingly asking for something the other kid wasn’t willing to provide. He kept shaking his head.

-I have every bit of photographic evidence of Master Richard’s… most questionable clothing choices password protected, least he finds a way to get rid of all of it. It’s for posterity’s sake, you understand? And to maybe help refrain him from trying his hand at “improvising a new suit” ever again.

Looking at his mentor’s mullet hair and deep v-neck, he can’t exactly bedrugde Alfred his counter measures. He’s feeling shame just by looking at a video, can’t even imagine what living through that must have been for the poor butler.

-Grayson’s fashion sense is sadly lacking, isn’t it?

-I wouldn’t call that fashion, Master Damian, nor sense. One could forgive and forget the first Robin suit, a circus child in need of colour and reminders of home. But this? -a stiff nod to the screen- This makes me worry for any children he might have.

-I’ve been keeping him away from orphanages -he assures the old man, because at this point, it was a two on two battle, him and Pennyworth against Father and Grayson and their inability to keep their greedy paternal paws off of possible new family members.

-Good lad.

In silence, they watch as Nightwing goes off screen, returning later in civies. One would think anything would have been less of an eye sore, but the bright green pants, red sneakers and yellow shirt aren’t so much better than glitter and feathers in a skintight suit.

Shockingly, though, Timothy-on-screen seems to disagree. Graysons’ renewed efforts at convincing him of whatever he wanted bore fruits, and soon enough, both vigilantes left the scene. Automatically, the video started to reproduce again, on a loop.

Alfred hummed, taking back the empty tray- I would highly recommend you went upstairs to try and sleep, young Master. Your eyebags are two thirds the size Master Tim’s used to be, and that’s worrying on its own.

He wanted to protest, but the look on the old man’s face made him reconsider. There was very little any of them could do to repay Alfred for everything he did for the family. Easing his concern was just a start.

Silently, he closed the files he was revising and walked side by side with the butler.

-I wonder what was what Grayson said, to make Timothy concede -he commented, while they slowly hailed back to the Manor.

-Nothing of great importance -was his answer-. Master Timothy’s will is a force to reckon, but he always found Robin to be his Achilles’ heel. The moment Master Dick changed into civies the colour of his first suit, poor lad had lost the battle.

The words kept spinning in his head, even after he went to bed.

It wasn’t a plan, not even the beginnings of one, and it lacked all the finesse and detail attention one of Timothy’s would have, but it was more than he had yesterday.

A start.

------.------

He went to Kent with his idea. Conner. Kon El.

(Not Superboy. Not his Superboy, at least; just like he wasn’t his Robin)

He choose him, because he could fly them somewhere away from his Grandfather's ears. Because he was better at lying than the Impulse, and less noble and forthcoming than Wonder Girl. He trusted him more than he did Timothy’s other Young Justice old teammates.

But, more importantly, he knew Kent would be ready and willing to do whatever it took to get Drake back.

-You know it’s gonna hurt him -the clone pointed out, face serious and stony. He was already preparing himself mentally for the backslash of what they were going to do. His hand had raised up to the Icy blue earring. Out of everyone else, Cain and Pennyworth included, his soul shard was the brightest; his love and loyalty to Timothy never once wavered.

The soul in his pouch gave a warm wave of fondness. He suspects that, during Drake’s darkest hours, his best friend’s love was what kept the little orb fed. Even now, he felt it strengthen under Kent’s undying devotion.

-I know.

There was no question it would. If they succeeded, the onslaught of feelings would be far too much for anyone to handle. Timothy, awesome as he was in every other field, would not be the exception.

-He’s probably gonna hate me.

-No -he shakes his head, echoing on Timothy’s soul sentiments- He never could. You and the others… he’s weak to you. That’s why I’m asking for your help. I need you there first, to soften him up to the idea. Make him more… receptive.

A pause. Then:

-It’s me he’s going to hate.

-At first, for sure- the easy admission, from the mouth of someone as well (or better) versed in the mysteries and wonders of one Timothy Drake, hurt; then, the man continued- but I can promise you, it won’t stay in the way of your little love story for long. He will cave soon enough.

Startled, he looked into the meta’s eyes; mischief, but a shade of seriousness. He wasn’t lying.

-There is no love story. Only redemption for me, and a chance at happiness for him.

-Yeah, yeah, I know, you bats are all for ‘what’s right’ and ‘emotions and personal life are for the weak’. I’m just calling it like I see it, dude, and anyone can see how you look when you talk about him. And, honestly? It’s a little creepy, Edward Cullen style, the way you spent your entire teenagedhood pining after someone without actually interacting with him for almost half of it.

Multiple reactions raced through his mind. Embarrassment, denial, rage…

...resignation.

-I’m not worthy of his affections, not after everything. And even if I was, who’s to say the feelings his soul has now will be the same once it’s back with its rightful owner?

Kon El just sighed, something that sounded like ‘emotionally stunted bats’, and carefully placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. It was striking, realizing they were not so far in height now. He would never bulk up the way Superman’s clone had, but his body was closer to it than Timothy’s, or Grayson’s.

-I’ll let you in a secret. There’s one easy shortcut, straight to Tim’s heart. Though, maybe ‘straight’ isn’t the right word in this case.

-Shut up.

A smile- Trust me on this one. You’re already using that way, even if you don’t realize it -he clasped his hand tighter, and then released him- Well, gotta go. Showtime is in two days, right? Have to be ready.

He was already taking off, when Damian’s brain to mouth filter seemed to break and he blurted out.

-What is this shortcut?

Still flying, the meta spin in place to face him, moving backwards. His smile was one part wistful, two parts sad.

-The fastest way for Tim to love you? Love him back. He’s a sucker for people giving him the barest scraps of affection, it would be impossible for him to resist someone wholeheartedly loving him.

-----.-----

18 - 23

All fell into place on Damian’s birthday.

The morning, he couldn’t escape his family. Grayson cried, of course, and Father had his constipated-emotionally confused face on. Todd and Brown promised to take him to a bar, careful to make that claim where Pennyworth couldn’t hear them. Him and Cain were in charge of the cake (Cassandra’s latest focus of attention had been bakery, and she wanted to participate), and Damian spent half the day surrounded by their love and support.

As promised, Jon came by mid afternoon to take him to ‘celebrate together’. He asked his family to wait for him awake, even if he came past the time patrol usually started. An odd request, but since he had asked for so little for his birthday, they couldn’t help but agree, Barbara going so far as to have The Birds of Prey ready to cover for them.

It was a long flight to Uruguay, but it was needed. He had taken note on how Drake was, more often than not, found on some seaside location. According to Grayson (and the multiple mission reports he had read on the subject), the tiniest Robin always seemed to like and take comfort on the beach. It had become a small compulsion, probably one he wasn’t even aware of, to stray to places surrounded by water.

The only stop they made, was for Damian to change civies for his suit. The Robin suit.

They found him sitting on the sand overlooking the calm afternoon waters, at La Pedrera Beach. Just where Damian asked him to met, where Kon had undoubtedly brought him a few minutes before.

No one was around, thankfully. The less witnesses, the better.

Jon touched ground softly, smiling at Damian and taking off again, to wait with the older Superboy as planned. His friend’s eyes betrayed no nervousness, but he didn’t need to; Damian was nervous enough for both of them.

Steeling himself, he walked towards the smaller man and stood by his side. Silently, they both watched as the sun slowly sunk into the horizon. In ten more minutes, it’d be completely hidden. Damian wanted for everything to be done before then, as if the beauty of the sunset would counter the pain of what was to follow.

-Okay, Baby Bat, lay it on me. Why ask me to come here, all the way from Italy? I was having a blast, you know, catching those mafias one by one.

Even as he spoke, he didn’t look particularly bothered. Soulless as he was, he had no qualms on showing his displeasure. Right now, though, he looked as satisfied as he ever did since losing his soul. The morning catching criminals, noon with his best friend and afternoon at the beach seemed to have worked like a charm. He was at ease, no longer waiting for Damian to attack him, and when he looked up at him and saw him wearing his colors (for once his more muted pants having a green tint to it, resembling more his predecessor's old costume), surprise gave quick way to trust.

Alfred was right, as always. Robin seemed to be the key past Timothy’s defenses.

-It’s my birthday today -he informed the man, doing his best to not be so stiff- And I want my gift.

A sharp laugh, devoid of feeling but humorous all the same, and Timothy stood, face to face with him, tilting his head to look him into the eye.

-My, my, what a spoiled prince. But whatever, I’m here already, and I already indulged you these last two years, letting you stay around and helping you with cases. What’s one more? I won’t take the soul back, though.

Damian shook his head.

-I don’t intend to return something of yours. I want to give something mine, for you to carry with yourself.

The smirk on his face turned utterly devious, and Timothy’s pale hands found perch on his shoulders.

-Such a daring man you have turned into -slowly, he leaned closer, standing on his tiptoes to reach Damian’s ear- What do you want to give me, baby bat? -his warm breath caressed his face, and he had to shut his eyes tightly when he felt Timothy’s face getting even closer- Maybe a kiss? It’ll be free of charge, even, just because I’m in such a good mood. I’ll still let you have the gift you had in mind, too.

Startled, he held the other man’s hips. The want that pushed viciously against his restrain left him dizzy, but his heart twisted and the pain brought him back to his senses, just before his lips -that he hadn’t even be aware he was parting- touched the other’s.

Carefully, because he didn’t mean any harm and because of how hard it was, he pushed the man away.

-No.

-No? Despite how desperately you clearly want it?

He clenched his fists, before slowly opening his hands and dragging them away from Timothy’s body. He opened his eyes again, looking down at the beautiful face, at those empty eyes. That sealed his decision.

-Not like this. Never like this.

He both regreted and was relieved by his words the moment he had uttered them.

A huff, and slim arms crossed over his chest. It helped a little, once the temptation was over.

-Okay then, boring. What’s this gift you want? Wanna give me a necklace or something? You seem the possessive type.

Damian breathed in, deeply. This was the moment.

-Open your hand, please.

Eyes rolling over the drama, one hand on his hip, he stretched out the other one, palm up.

Bracing himself, Damian retrieved something from his pouch. Before he could second guess himself, he softly placed it on Timothy’s hand.

Deep, rich green. Shinning gold. A sea of those colors, with specks of icy blue floating around.

His own soul.

Timothy’s eyes went to the soul, the one that wasn’t his, and widened a little. Reflexively, he closed his fingers around the orb as much as he could. He was still being moved by the muscle memory, the compulsion of pleasing Robin.

A second later, tears started to endlessly flow, and he was screaming in pain.

-----.----

For months, years, Damian had looked over him and saw two separate pieces of the same puzzle. Soul and body, beautiful on their own, but absolutely breathtaking if he only could put them together.

Now, the full picture stood in front of him. Despite its beauty, there were visible cracks where Damian had forced their ragged ends together, where he had to put his own soul as a filler between them.

Effective as it was, meshing two pieces, despite they belonging to the same puzzle, wasn’t the most gentle way to mend them.

They were bound to break a little, in order to fit.

-What have you done to me?! -demanded Timothy, hand clutching desperately at his chest (the other one still holding the gifted soul core), knees failing him. He would have crashed into the ground, if not for Damian’s firm arm around his waist.

He looked completely miserable, scared and shocked, which sent waves of both guilt and elation through him, because his Beloved was hurting because of him, but he was feeling.

Timothy’s eyes shone hatefully. It was the most beautiful shade of icy blue he had ever seen. Even if the emotion was such a dark one, they weren’t empty anymore.

-What is happening to me?! How?! This isn’t my soul! I shouldn’t be feeling my own emotions! -he shrieked, his entire body shaking, and it was obvious he would have attacked Damian if not so focused on his own pain. Tears fell seemingly without his notice, and flickers of different emotions crossed his face. Guilt, anger, joy, sadness, rage, fondness, pain, guilt, anger, joy… Too quick to properly categorize, too sudden for Timothy to process them. Those were the emotions his soul had been storing this past few years, and it was all crashing down around him.

-I’m well connected to the soul you gave me. As thus, by using my own as a conduit and bonding us together, yours finally has a way to reach out to you, to do its job and make you feel. It’s muted, not as strong as it’d be if you had accepted your own soul back in the first place. I’m afraid that would have killed you.

-I feel like I’m dying now.

There was screaming. Then laughter. Panic and crying. Puking. Timothy’s hand left his chest to tug at his hair, plucking off strand, then going to his naked arms and leaving red indents with his nails. Softly, he took his fingers between his, Timothy’s back to his chest, if only to keep him from hurting himself any longer.

-I can’t breath. I can’t think. Why did you do this to me? I love you. No, I don’t. Fuck, I’m going crazy -Daman tightened his arms around the man, shushing him, rocking back and forth on the ground, wishing desperately he could sooth his pain.

-It’ll pass.

Timothy whined, and cried, and smiled, and puked on the sand.

-I hate you right now. I love you. I’m scared. I hate you again. I/

-I know, love. I know.

When he passed out, still caught between tears and smiles, Damian couldn’t help but feel relief.

#My writing #soul shards #soul shards au #Tim Drake #Damian wayne #damitim #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #jason todd #Stephanie Brown #Cassandra Cain Wayne #kon el kent #Conner kent #Jon kent #ra's al ghul mentioned #young justice is mentioned

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xianglingslesbian · 3 years

Note

oh I'll give u a character alright: Izuki, Kiyoshi, Riko and Aomine <333 technically that's four, but what goes around comes around (I'll keep this circle of love goin forever buddy)

VICCCC ily my man <33 thank u!!! aight putting this under a cut bc it got long

Izuki

Why I like them: izuki’s just overall so amazing! he inspires me to give my best in the stuff i do, and although it sounds a bit silly i try to be a person that he’d be proud of. his puns are hilarious and well-thought-out (as a person who loves words and word jokes, i’m naturally drawn to him lol). they’re also a way to take the heat off the team, he’s so hardworking and never views obstacles as obstacles, rather as hills he must climb to find newer skies. he’s also rather clever and employs his brains to great effect when his body fails him! izuki embodies the meaning of ‘eagle’ in the truest sense - waiting to strike when the time is right and not failing when it is.

Why I don’t: *sweats* can’t really think of a reason i don’t like izuki, at all??? i guess he can overwork himself a lot and tends to keep his true emotions hidden which could lead to misunderstandings between friends (although this is totally headcanon territory lol)... i also didn’t like the ableist comment he passed on hayama (“i’m just glad you weren’t smarter than me”). but i think he can (and will!) grow from that kind of stuff, he is that kind of person so yeah no particular reason for me to dislike him at all

Favorite episode (scene if movie): how dare you make me pick s3 e8 izuki vs kasamatsu, hands down. i know its like cliche or whatever but that moment just told me so much about izuki as a character? he’s willing to do what it takes to win, he’s adaptable and dependable and he doesn’t let shit get him down ever. it’s gorgeous

Favorite season/movie: s3, he got some fantastic moments in there!! although i will say i loved the spotlighting he got in s1 in the seihō match

Favorite line: “Fear isn't a bad thing. There are some things that can only be done by cowards.” this is first of all such a nice thing to say. ‘fear is not bad’ is just... so fucking wise? keep in mind that this boy is 17, i’ve met 30 year olds who are less mature. secondly it feels like izu’s speaking from experience?? like he has a lot to be scared of, i’m sure. particularly of falling behind and being a burden to his teammates. but it’s that ‘cowardice’ that drives him to practice so so hard. that visceral terror of weighing on seirin is what pushes izuki beyond his limits - which is why here he can empathise with furi’s fear, and knows how best to employ it.

Favorite outfit: look i hate last game w/ a passion but that lil tie/shirt/hoodie thing he had going? that was literally so cute. izuki in general has a p great fashion sense but his last game outfit takes the cake <3

OTP: hyuuizu oh my god i could talk for years about them but since this post is gonna be very long i’ll refrain. just. they are perfect they are fucking perfect

Brotp: kiyoizu!! kiyoshi is izuki’s biggest enabler and i love that for him <3

Head Canon: izuki can be very very passive aggressive when he’s angry at someone/sad and gets cold and withdrawn. it’s not fun to experience but tbh if you upset him you probably deserve it

Unpopular opinion: izuki should’ve been naturally better in canon. it’s not fair to shaft him and give the ‘trier’ thing off to himuro. that being said i am p happy with who he is as a person

A wish: i want to know how izuki felt after middle school! izuki’s and riko’s backstory focuses so much on hyuuga its dumb >:( he also would’ve been demoralised but he didn’t quit bball and i would like to know his thought process!

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: i. uh. i guess izu quitting basketball. because i genuinely cannot see that happening. it brings him so much joy, he should never stop cold turkey. i can imagine old man izuki hobbling about a court giving little kids pointers and making them laugh T-T

5 words to best describe them: “big brain caffeine-powered clown baby”

My nickname for them: babyzuki/izu/shunshun

Kiyoshi

Why I like them: lots of reasons! kiyoshi is an admirable person. he’s strong, yet friendly and gentle, and he loves his team above all else, which i just find beautiful. i find his manipulative side also pretty cool, bc it shows off how multifaceted he is.

Why I don’t: this is more of a fandom reason but i really dislike how kiyoshi is always said to have had the greatest impact in hyuuga’s story. he badgered and manipulated hyuuga, and while some may argue hyuuga needed that push, it only worked bc hyuuga had had time to think about shit. he’d also been given space by riko and izuki (two integral parts of his life whom the fandom looooves to sideline for uwu kiyo//hyuu).

Favorite episode (scene if movie): yousen match (can’t pick the episodes)! i loved the backstory we got for kiyo vs mura and i loved how kiyoshi was willing to smile and play but also refused to lose. he truly stole the show despite kagami being the one to finally take down murasakibara, it was gorgeous <3

Favorite season/movie: s2 for sure. kiyoshi wasn’t allowed to shine much after yousen imo - all the focus was on hyuuga kagami and kuroko, and to a lesser extent izuki. not complaining, but yeah

Favorite line: “Let’s go have some fun.” i know it’s kinda cliche but i do love how kiyoshi’s always thinking about playing a good game and enjoying basketball. he wants to play because he loves it and as someone who loves a sport as much as kiyoshi loves b-ball, that love is so poignant and tender

Favorite outfit: practice clothes! kiyoshi looks great in pink <3

OTP: kiyohana. hateshipping amirite ;)

Brotp: kiyohyuu! i love them as friends so so much <3

Head Canon: kiyoshi is half-iranian on his mother’s side and is muslim. i won’t say too much because i am not muslim myself, i need to do more research into this but i’ve had this headcanon for quite a while now!

Unpopular opinion: he should be bullied more for the fact that his canon power is having yaoi hands

A wish: kiyo finds something he loves as much as b-ball. he can’t canonically play at this level again, so if he found another sport/competition/anything, it’d be amazing

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: he should never become demoralised. kiyoshi at heart is a dreamer, so let him dream, let him look towards tomorrow with a smile always

5 words to best describe them: “useless dreamy dumbass cheerleader clown”

My nickname for them: kiyoyo, bc my feelings about him have yo-yoed a lot lmao

Riko

Why I like them: im a lesbian, next. /j i love her because she’s so tenacious and driven. yet she’s also kind and gentle, and never loses her humanity. she cares, and she cares hard. she’s so fucking smart too like... coaching a hs basketball team at 17 against players of NBA calibre and making them win? i could never. seirin without riko is nothing.

Why I don’t: i dont like the constant slapstick of her beating up her boys. also, i dislike how the narrative forces her to act ‘feminine’ and then has the boys think of it as nothing. like first of all if someone like her offered me a kiss i would so take 100, and secondly... why is a girl’s worth so tied to her femininity? it’s awful

Favorite episode (scene if movie): her sending in furi vs kaijō, early in s3. it was an exceedingly smart move that could have only come from her knowing her players’ strengths and weaknesses intimately, and being a brilliant coach. just amazing <3

Favorite season/movie: all of them! riko has some amazing moments each season, so i can’t really pick

Favorite line: “Humans grow. Don't act like you understand when you don't even realize that!” here, riko knows and knows well that she is in her element. momoi might have the data, but riko understands adaptability and knows how to predict stuff. in that way, one can draw parallels between takao vs izuki and momoi vs riko: takao and momoi are recon experts, whereas riko and izuki are strategists. momoi uses raw data; riko manipulates the data to her advantage

Favorite outfit: idk if this is exactly an outfit but her glasses are so cute oh my gosh. (i’d kill to see her in a leather jacket tho)

OTP: rikomomo!!! i’m 100% sure that momoi’s fixation w/riko’s boobs is just... repressed lesbian sentiments. also sports girlfriends gimme

Brotp: hyuuizuriko. i hc that hyuuizu were tgt since elementary school and riko joined them in middle school so... childhood friends feels!

Head Canon: riko knows how to shoot a gun. her father owns one so it makes sense

Unpopular opinion: riko does not need to have bigger boobs in fanart. please stop sexualising a 17 year old girl

A wish: white suit riko please

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: her ever leaving behind sports in any way shape or form. it’s her thing. in the same vein, she should never have to change herself or become more traditionally feminine to be ‘appealing’

5 words to best describe them: perfect perfect perfect perfect perfect

My nickname for them: ai/riri

Aomine

Why I like them: aomine is just a pure, hurting young man that deserves help. he’s passionate, and his fire died down out of no fault of his own. that fire’s reignition through kagami is one of my favorite scenes <3

Why I don’t: he’s perverted as hell and i dislike that. it plays into the ‘brutish dark-skinned pervert’ stereotype which is yikes. also i thought we were done with pervs in anime

Favorite episode (scene if movie): s2 seirin v touou when kagami enters the zone!! aomine’s finally happy and it’s so amazing to watch <3

Favorite season/movie: s2, he finally got happiness and peace of mind

Favorite line: “You’re the best!” there’s just so much of pure joy in this line. he’s so so beside himself that he finally has someone he won’t destroy. kagami sees aomine the person, and that person is so happy, it’s beautiful

Favorite outfit: the leather jacket from the finale lmaooo he looked so cute

OTP: AOKAGA BABY i could write an essay tbh

Brotp: aomomo!! theyre such good friends and bi/lesbian solidarity too!

Head Canon: aomine cannot dance. he has stepped on kagami’s feet multiple times. he has also attempted to twerk when drunk. kuroko recorded the whole thing and uses it as blackmail in case the puppy eyes and “but aomine-kun you didn’t fist bump me back” don’t work

Unpopular opinion: more a fandom thing, but you all need to stop making aomine the aggressive/possessive top/‘seme’. it’s racist as fuck

A wish: aomine goes pro. it’ll be amazing for him, a huge challenge and kagami will be there too so its a win-win ;)

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: he quits again/b-ball loses its allure. aomine at heart is someone who needs passion to drive him so i just want that passion to always burn bright within him

5 words to best describe them: “bastard baby needs a hug”

My nickname for them: dai-chan, momoi rubbed off on me

#izuki #kiyoshi #riko #aomine #vee #knb #ceru babbles #answered #omg i went OFF

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kommakina · 3 years

Text

my take on what makes literature good (this is just a rant i am so sorry)

before anything i would like to state that i have no degree, no expertise, no nothing. i am literally just a high school student so like take what i say lightly dudes, it’s all just a relative opinion anyways. this is just 1k of my opinions and thoughts ig.

i am going to start this off by saying that the best story i have ever read in my life is a 100,000 word bts fanfic. you can dislike their music, them as people, i don’t care, thats your right and your opinion that you’re entitled to. i’m not trying to change that. but the reason i say that is because, lets be honest here, fanfiction? a lot of the time it’s written by 13 year olds who haven’t learned the difference between you’re and your. no shade to those 13 year olds, though. i’ve been there, and i’m no grammatical saint either, but typically, fanfiction as a whole is a bit looked down upon because of this idealism that it’s all just shitty 1k first-person bullshit. contrary to the societal idea of what fanfiction is (because it is shitty a lot of the time), there’s still that golden story every once and awhile. for me, that golden staple was up we go.

I feel like they, the author, encompassed a lot of feelings that i, myself, was feeling at the time at which i had read it. it described that feeling of being sad but having nothing to be sad about, that feeling of loneliness in a room full of people, hopelessness in a world full of answers. this 100k bts fanfiction put into words emotions that i didn’t even realize other people could have. it helped me to sit and reflect on my own life a little, think of what could make me happy, what could make me grow and flourish. the writing style in of itself was absolutely spectacular in capturing the essence of the story and these feelings, and even with the disregard of the craftsmanship of the storyline, its foreshadowing, ect. ect., it’s still a beautiful story. yet even still, i find myself hesitant to tell people about my love and appreciation of this story because i’m scared of what they would think when they found out that i think so highly of a story that societally shouldn’t be good in any means.

that thought process isn’t at all fair to the creators of these stories (btw here’s the link to up we go, fan of bts or not, i still highly recommend it - https://archiveofourown.org/works/12297168/chapters/27954360 ). they poured their hearts out into the creation of these works, and will never get the recognition they so deserve in the world of literature beyond tumblr posts and twitter threads.

this is just going to move me on into literally the best page turner i’ve ever read didn’t even fucking have pages. it was a 200k fanfic, once again. the songbird and the sea. best fucking plot line and universe creation since tolkienism. i literally read it at every moment i could, even when i reread it for the tenth time, i still can never put it down. it brings the beauty of life and hardships to life in an exciting way- the kind of exciting thats hard to find in a book. it really was a story that held your hand through it’s pages, despite its coding. (odd place to put it but once again here’s the story, bts fan or not, high recommendation - https://archiveofourown.org/works/10795731/chapters/23946774 )

i haven’t been able to find a single printed book that brings me as much joy and emotion as these books, and i’ve read plenty of classics in my time. and then there were none, the odyssey, pride and prejudice, shakespeare sonnets, edgar allan poe, ect. ect.. i’ve read some of the most popular novels in modern history like twilight, harry potter, the fault in our stars, scythe, all of these books- but none of them have ever brought me as much emotion and happiness as two fanfictions i found on ao3. that kind of thinking kinda leads on into - who decided these books were good? what decided they were the grounding for movie franchieses that make more money in a year than yemen and panama’s national incomes combined?

really my question here is this, and i highly recommend you sit and recollect on this yourself, please add your own thoughts, id love to hear them, but-

what makes literature good aside from a societal view?

honorable mentions of fanfiction authors that make me happy-

fruitily on ao3 - https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitily/pseuds/fruitily

their twitter - https://twitter.com/fruitilys

notyoongs on ao3 - https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyoongs/pseuds/notyoongs

their twitter - https://twitter.com/tododucks

arobeebee on ao3 (has a lot of nsfw stuffies on there but also has more wholesome stuff so yeah take that as you will) - https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arobeebee/pseuds/Arobeebee\

her twitter (is a nsfw twitter im sorry i dont know if she has another one this was all i could find) - https://twitter.com/arobeebee

MENTIONED LINKS:

Oh_Hey_Tae on ao3 (up we go) - https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_Hey_Tae/pseuds/Oh_Hey_Tae

their twitter - https://twitter.com/oh_hey_tae

maia_archives on ao3 (the songbird and the sea) - https://archiveofourown.org/users/maia_archives/pseuds/maia_archives

i cant find any of their socials im so sorry lol

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 54

Warning: angst

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @ocfairygodmother

The hours go by way too fast.

He’s tried to spend every possible moment with them. Devoting his attention, yet his very limited time, from the second he opened eyes and found four little -and still sleeping- bodies crowded around him. Two pressed against his sides, one laying across his shin and effectively pinning him down, the fourth right on top of him with their face nestled in the spot between his neck and shoulder. Some time in the middle of the night they must have snuck in -or their mother had carried them in- and he’d been none the wiser. A rare, deep, comfortable sleep somehow finding him on quite possibly the most stressful night of his life. Never waking once due to nightmares of pain, or even when four of his five children either crept into bed with him or were placed there. And for an hour he hadn’t dared to disturb them; content with just watching them sleep and gently running his fingers through their hair and kissing the cheeks and foreheads of those he could reach. Listening to their soft, rhythmic breathing and feeling their bodies gently rising and falling against him. Marvelling at not only how beautiful and perfect they are, but the fact that someone like him -with all his past mistakes and bad decisions and inner demons- could ever be given, or entrusted with, such amazing little human beings.

He let them eat leftover birthday care and ice cream for breakfast. Managing borderline genuine laughs and smiles as he listened to them gush about it being ‘the best Sunday morning EVER’ and their excited, vividly detailed recap of yesterday’s events and the week they’d had at school. Heart crumbling with each passing second, wanting nothing more than to either stop the clock, or simply wake up and discover that all of it -Mahajan, the threats against his family, the mission in Mumbai- had been nothing more than a horrible, fucked up dream. When they weren’t paying attention, he turned on the recorder on his phone; taking in every giggle and their little voices. There’s no greater, more beautiful sound than your own kids’ laughter; second to only how it sounds when they call him daddy. It will be awhile before he hears it again in person. If he even gets the chance at all.

That’s the bitter, heartbreaking realization. He may never get these moments again; it could be the last lazy Sunday they have together. Their last breakfast on the back patio. The last time he gets to ask them how their week at school went. It all seems so simple. So mundane. Things that he’s often guilty of taking for granted that he’ll miss so much if he never gets to experience them again; whether it be through their demise or his own. If it’s going to happen, he prays it’s the latter. That they’ll get the opportunity to grow up and live long, great lives. That their mother won’t have to endure a single second, never mind a lifetime, without any of them. She’d survive his passing. She’d grieve. Long and hard. But one day she’d likely move on; find someone that loves her and the kids and will do anything to make them happy. But she’d never get over losing one of her babies, never mind all of them. It would break her. Right down to her very soul. And she’d recover from it.

He took them swimming and surfing. Two hours in the water followed by a walk along the beach looking for shells and rocks and pieces of beach glass. Each filling their small plastic buckets with whatever treasures they happened to find. He’d been in no rush; taking as many videos and pictures as possible and trying to commit every little moment to memory. They went for a hike in the woods. Playing ‘spot the wildlife’; listening to the kookaburras in the trees and seeing kangaroos hop through the brush and the koalas clinging to trunks and branches. Awed by how bright eyed and curious they are. Fearless. Smart. Everything that’s good and beautiful that exists in both their parents fully alive and flourishing inside of them. They went out for lunch and to the park near their school. Leaving the car parked downtown and simply enjoying the walk with them. A tiny hand curled around each of his, another clutching the side pocket of her cargo shorts, Declan holding on tight as he perched upon his father’s shoulders. And he’d entertained every request for pushes on the swings; never denying their demands to go higher and higher. Smiling at the sounds of their laughter and their squeals and the grins on their faces. When they’d returned home they’d all taken a nap together. Somehow managing to all cram together on the living room couch.

He’d spent his last hour with Addie. Just her and him in the old, creaky rocking chair in the nursery. Feeding her a bottle and holding that impossibly tiny body as close as he possibly could. Eyes closed as he breathed in the soft scent that clung to her sleeper; feeling that silky hair against his skin and the way those small first tightly grasped the front of his t-shirt.

He doesn’t remember a time when four in the afternoon has come this quickly. And while Esme waits in the car -knowing that she won’t be able to hold it together during the goodbyes and how badly her children need to see her calm and composed- he stalls for as long as he possibly can. Double checking the contents of the backpack serving as a carry on and moving at a snail’s pace as he laced his boots; trembling hands making the simple task needlessly complicated. His chest aches; a pain like nothing he’s ever experienced before. A mix between tightness and profound emptiness that he can’t even begin to describe. Emotion sits heavily in his throat, threatening to choke him. And he sees the sympathetic smile that Kyle -with Addie along his arm- gives him. His brother in law is unusually emotional; they never quite seen eye to eye and Kyle has also held a lot of animosity and spite towards him. Truly believe that he’d ‘stolen’ Esme from the family and then proceeded to drag her into a less than appealing life. But Kyle understands the enormity of the situation; how serious and dangerous it will be. And he knows full well that despite not even realizing it the kids could very well be hugging and kissing their father goodbye for the last time.

“Come here guys…” Tyler says, as he drops down to one knee in the middle of the front foyer. “...I gotta go.”

The twins are the first to him, and he gathers one in the crook of each arm and pulls them tightly into him. Two sets of little arms immediately curling tightly around his neck. His eyes shut tight as he holds them; a valiant attempt at fighting back the flood of threatening tears. And he places a hand on the back of their heads and presses kisses to their brows.

“You guys be good, yeah? Be good for your mom. Do what she says. Clean your room. Eat all your dinner. No mouthing off. Got it?”

They both nod.

“I don’t want to hear any different when I call to check on things, hear me?”

“You’ll come and visit, right?” Tanner’s voice cracks with emotion, tears brim in his eyes. “When we get there? You’ll come and see us?”

“You guys will have a good time with your mom. It’s a really nice place you’re staying at. Its got an indoor AND outdoor pool and its own theatre for watching movies and one of those massive wooden playgrounds you’re always after me to get. And animals. Crazy ones too. Like monkeys and tigers and a sloth and shit like that.”

“But you’ll come see us, right?” Tanner presses. “You’ll come and visit?”

“As soon as I can. I promise.”

“How soon?”

“I’m not sure, mate. There’s some things I need to do first. I’ll come as soon as they’re done, okay? Second I’m finished, I’ll be there. Alright?”

Tanner nods.

“I love you guys.” He presses another kiss to one forehead, followed by the other. “So much.”

“I love you, daddy,” TJ pecks Tyler’s cheek and then tightens his hold on his neck. “I’ll miss you too.”

“I’ll see you soon, mate. I promise.”

“I don’t want you to go,” Tanner laments. “Why can’t we go together? Why are you going before us?”

“We talked about this.” Tyler brushes his son’s hair away from his forehead and out of his eyes. “I gotta do some work stuff. Important stuff. Very important.”

“More important than us?”

“Nothing is more important than you, mate. And I’ll see you as soon as I can. It won’t be too long, I promise.”

“Okay,” Tanner sniffles. “I love you, daddy. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too. You guys be good. No fighting. Especially with your sister. You know both she can kick your butts. Go on. Go and see what that crazy puppy is doing. Make sure he’s not chewing shit up.”

Millie moves in once he brothers run off. Perching herself upon his thigh and wrapping her arms around his neck; burying her face in the spot between his neck and shoulder.

“You be good too,” Tyler says, and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “No picking on anyone. And no beating anyone’s ass, got it?”

“Got it.”

“Be nice to your mom. Love on her a lot, okay? She needs a lot of love and she needs you and your brothers to give her that. I’m counting on you guys.”

“Okay, daddy. I’m sad you’re leaving without us, but I’m excited too. About going to visit where Ovi was born. Mommy says there’s lots of new stuff for us to try. Like food and stuff. And a lot of fun stuff to see and do. I’ve never been on a trip before. I’m super stoked about it.”

He can’t help but smile. Relieved that she -with her shockingly keen instincts and her ability to ‘read’ situations- hasn’t picked up on any of the worry and the stress. “Mommy gets really nervous when she flies. So you sit beside her and hold her hand. I’m not there to do it, so you have to. Alright?”

Millie nods.

“I’ll miss you. But I’ll see you as soon as I can. I love you. So much.”

“I love you too, daddy. I made you something.”

“You did? What did you make me?”

She hops down off his thigh, then reaches into the pocket of her shorts. “It’s a bracelet. Like your other ones. Mommy helped me a bit; got me the right rope so you could just pull it tight and it won’t fall off. See…” she holds the item in question in her hand. “...Mommy made sure it was big enough to fit you. ‘Cause you have big hands and wrists. I picked as many boy colors as I could, but I put some pink and purple in there, too. ‘Cause they’re my favorite colors. Do you like it?”

“I love it.” Tyler feels the trick of tears in his eyes and he lays a hand on the back of her head and presses a kiss to her. “It’s beautiful. Thank you. I’m gonna wear it right now."

Her entire face lights up. “Yeah? Really?”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s just as nice as my other ones. Even nicer, actually. ‘Cause you made it.”

“I put my favorite colors in there for a reason,” she says, as he allows her to slip the bracelet onto his right wrist; using the fingers of one hand and her teeth to pull it tight against his skin. “So that when you look at it, you’ll think of me and I won’t feel so far away.”

“Thank you. It’s perfect. Just like you.”

“Why are you gonna cry?” Millie asks, as she takes his face in her hands. “It makes me sad when you cry.”

“I’m just going to miss you guys, that’s all.” He pulls her into a tight hug, eyes closing to once more hold back the tears. “Why don’t you go and help your brothers with Saju. Keep all three of them out of trouble.”

“Okay,” she says, and brushes the tip of her nose against his. “You thought I forgot about that part, didn’t you.”

He grins. “I was starting to wonder.”

“That’s my favorite part. That’s our special thing. Since I was really little. Like Declan. That’s a long time ago.”

“Sure seems like a long time ago.”

“I love you, daddy. You be safe. Kick the bad guys’ butts.”

“I will. Just for you.”

She gives a brilliant smile and then kisses his cheek before rushing off, hollering after her brothers and the puppy. He winces as he stands; both knee and back stiff and aching. Not a good way to start a mission, that’s for sure. And he scoops Declan up and showers him with kisses and spoils him with hugs and tickles until the toddler is giggling hysterically. He moves on to Addie, taking her from Kyle’s arms and holding her tight to his chest; a hand on the back of her head, eyes closing as he swallows around the knot of emotion lodged in his throat. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, cheek, and temple before handing her back to his brother in law.

“You be careful, hear me?” Kyle says. “Because these kids need you. My sister needs you.”

“I appreciate you going to Mumbai with them. She’ll need someone with her. Especially if…” he shrugs. “...you know.”

“I’ll be there for her. IF it happens. And just in case it does, thank you. For loving her the way you do. For being so good to her. And those kids. You're the best thing that’s ever happened to her; hands down. I hope you know that. And I hope you know that. That you don’t ever question it.”

“I don’t,” he says. “And I never have.”

“Take care of yourself, Tyler. Get shit down. Take no prisoners. Make those fuckers pay.”

“I will,” he promises. “No matter how I have to do it.”

****

The drive to the airport is spent in silence. He had turned down the transportation that Anil had arranged; opting to send the others ahead so he could have those last minutes with his wife. They don’t need to speak; content with the quiet and finding even the smallest shred of comfort in one another’s presence. The things that had needed to be said have long been laid out on the table. Worst fears, lingering regrets and guilt, apologies for any and all perceived wrong doings and harsh, hurtful words said during arguments; things that SHOULD have been said a long time ago. It’s been the struggle a of a lifetime trying to keep his emotions in check; wanting desperately to be what she needs at this moment. The strong, stoic one who always finds a way to keep shit together when it’s falling apart around them.

She knows how he feels; the fierce loyalty and unwavering faithfulness. Since their six month separation three and a half years ago, he’d been working diligently at being the man she needs. The one she deserves. Stepping out of his comfort zone and regularly attending therapy -both alone and as a couple- and legitimately putting his effort into being the kind of husband and father HE wants to be. Hands on. Devoted. Putting his family first and foremost instead of falling back into old habits and indulging in old vices. And the hard work has paid off. He’s become more attentive. Loving. No longer afraid to show emotion or affection or professing his feelings. He’d spent nearly his entire childhood and teenage years being told that all of that is simply unacceptable; it made him weak, pathetic. That he’d somehow grown into ‘less of a man’ and an ‘embarrassment’.

He’d never realized the extent of the damage it had caused. Years in the military and then as a merc had hardened his exterior and saw him bottling things up; pushing people away and shutting them out, convincing himself that his father’s words were true. He WOULD be viewed as a lesser man if he opened up; if formed valuable connections with people and allowed himself to feel. It had helped destroy his first marriage; one of the many nails in the coffin. And it had taken him until he was thirty five to to cross paths with someone even stronger and more determined -and stubborn- than him. Who didn’t view him as weak and damaged and never gave up on him even during even the darkest and most trying of days. Pushing back when he tried to push away. Holding on even tighter when he tried to force her out; believed that he needed to protect her from HIM. Someone so little but so mighty. With so much love and trust and tenacity inside that tiny body.

The last six month have been incredible. A change of pace and scenery doing both of them a world of good. A chance to devote themselves to their marriage and raising a family. And now this. Had it just been a return to the job and starting a business, it would be easy to cope with. They’d once again get used to the instability and unpredictability and he’d find that balance being the job and being a family man. But THIS. Mahajan and his threats and the known that awaits in Mumbai. There’s no way to ever truly prepare yourself for something like that. When the possibility of never seeing your family again is higher than it’s ever been.

Tyler knows she’s been struggling. Mostly in silence. Aware of the times she’s hidden herself away from both him and the kids in order to have an emotional meltdown. She hasn’t just been keeping the enormous effects of the situation away from the little ones, but from him as well. Not wanting to admit the full weight that’s been placed upon her; not wanting him to see the tears or how the stress makes her physically ill because she’s worried about adding more to his already overflowing plate. She’s always been like that; selfless to a fault. And he wants to tell her that. That it’s okay to just let it out instead of letting it eat her alive and cause more damage. Ironic, considering she’s usually one saying things like that to HIM. But he’s at a loss on how to comfort her when his own emotions have been stripped down to their core; raw and painful. It had taken all her had to keep it together in front of the kids. And he doesn’t know if he has any strength left to keep it up.

“Millie gave you the bracelet.” Her eyes never leave the road as she speaks, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight, her knuckles and the tips of her fingers turn white.

“Yeah,” he nods, and glances down at the item in question nestled perfectly against the older, weathered ones on his wrist. Two of them have been around since Dhaka. Esme had painstakingly cleaned dirt, grime, and blood off of each bead and every bit of braided rope after she’d found them in the bag of personal effects the emergency room doctor had given her. And Millie was right; the purple and pink DO remind him of her. And it helps to alleviate some of the heartache.

“She’s all heart that kid,” Esme says. “Especially when it comes to you. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for you. No one she loves the way she loves you. If something DOES happen to you, she’s the one I worry about the most.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me. Maybe some bumps and bruises. A few stitches. I’ve had worse.”

There’s a glimmer of confidence inside of him. Last night after they’d made love -twice- and she’d fallen into a deep and satisfied sleep beside him, everything that had been nagging at him regarding specifics of the job had fallen into place. As if a light had been switched on inside of him; illuminating the troublesome spots and making them easier to see. All the hours of analyzing blue prints and photographs suddenly coming together and his brain assembling the very detailed and efficient pieces of the puzzle. It isn’t the answer to everything -he’ll have to come up with new methods once the first couple of kills are complete- but it’s a start.

“You definitely have,” she agrees. “And if those things are all that happens to you, I’ll take it. Gladly. Because the thought of something worse happening...something Dhaka level…”

“It won't get to that,” Tyler assures her. “Look at all the guys going in. It’s not just me trying to get shit done this time. And we can always get more people if we need them. This is nothing like Dhaka.”

“In some ways it’s worse.”

“In some,” he admits. “In other ways it’s better. Not just me and Saju going up against a fucking army. Once we get shit ironed out, this will go good. Nice and smooth. As simple as checking a name off and going onto the next one.”

“You’re awful confident all of a sudden,” Esme remarks.

“Hopeful is more like it.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “Sometimes hope is the only thing that does get you through shit like this. And I’m not worried about you going after the people in the list. I know you can handle that. I worry about when Mahajan catches on and figures out it’s you. When he makes that bounty even bigger. How are you going to get around Mumbai with every gun pointed at you?”

“There’s always ways. I’ll figure it out when...and if...that happens. Let me worry about all that, okay? No sense you dwelling on it. You got an even bigger job ahead of you. Even more important.”

“I just hope I can do it. Keep it together for them. Because I already feel like I’m falling apart and the job hasn’t even started yet. What if I lose it? What if…?”

“You won’t.” He reaches out and runs a hand over her hair, then settles it at the back of her neck, lightly squeezing. “You’re a good mom. You’re an amazing mom. Everything you do is for those kids. MY kids. You got this. I know you do.”

Her smile widens but the tears shimmering in her eyes increase. “It’s so much harder this time. Saying goodbye to you. It’s never been this hard with any of the other jobs you’ve taken. “

“Well it’s not like any other job, is it. And don’t use the word. We NEVER use that word. Don’t start using it now. Goodbye isn’t an option; we decided on that a long time ago. That we’d never say that.”

“I’m just so worried. About holding it together for the kids, about you, about Ovi. It’s all just too much to deal with. Knowing what you’re out there doing and having to pretend like it’s not happening and like my heart isn’t out there walking around outside of my body. How am I supposed to be happy for them when all I can think about is something about to you? You’re half of those kids. And if we lose you…”

“You won’t. It’s not going to happen. I’ll be careful. You know I will.”

“That’s a lot of money, Tyler. That he has on your head. You KNOW what people will do for that kind of money. Look what we’ve done. Both of us have crossed people. Betrayed them. For money.”

“People who deserved it,” he reminds her. “Not one of them didn’t deserve it.”

“But look at the lengths WE’VE gone to. How far do you think someone who really needs the money will go to get to you? Those are the people I’m most worried about. The truly desperate ones who have nothing to lose. They're the most dangerous and we both know what they’re capable of. I mean, look how far that Farhad kid was willing to go for Amir Asif. How many Farhads are in Mumbai wanting to impress Mahajan?”

“I think you need to let me worry about things like that. I’m not a rookie; I know what I’m doing. Just have me in faith, okay? That’s all I’m asking. That you have faith in me.”

“I do. I always have. Bit that doesn’t I’m not going to worry. And don’t even try and tell me not to. You know I’m incapable of turning that part of me off. You always talk about how protective you are of me. Well I’m just as protective when it comes to you. You don’t think I’d do anything remotely possible to keep you safe.”

“I know you would. And the next time a Care Bear comes at me, I’ll let you have the first shot at it.”

Despite the tears in her eyes and deep furrows in her brow, she still manages a laugh. “You are such an ass sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” he admits, and then grins. “But you love me.”

She smiles. “Only on days that end in Y.”

****

At the airport she parks on the tarmac; Anil having chartered two separate planes, one strictly being used to transport all of the weapons, ammo, gear, and various supplies. Long gone are the days of travelling by crowded Cessna or helicopter; both methods replaced by sleek, high end, fuel efficient jets. She sits behind the wheel with the engine idling, watching as Tyler heads across the tarmac, where Anil waits at the bottom of one of the jet’s stairs. And she tries to ignore how pronounced his limp is and the grimace on his face. Bridging them up will get her nowhere. He’s stubborn to fault and will only get defensive or brush off her concerns. And the last thing she wants is already fragile emotions making a big deal out of nothing and one of them -or both- walking away with hurt feelings or hostility. Because she’d never forgive herself if that happened; if the last words she even spoke to him were out of misplaced anger.

Instead she wages a valiant yet slowly weakening battle against profound worry and a heartache she’s never experienced before. It’s impossible to prepare for. The moment the person you love -more than you ever thought you could ever possibly love- walks away and you have to relegate yourself to the very real possibility that you may never see them again. That one day even your memories of them will fade; the sound of their voice, their smell, the touch of their hand, their face. The act of grieving a person that is still very much alive.

She watches as Anil greets him with a pleasant smile and a handshake. The two engaging in a brief conversation before Anil turns to address the three person flight crew and all five begin heading towards the truck. And she slides out from behind the wheel as they begin unloading the last three crates of supplies and gear and Tyler’s two meager bags; an old army rucksack and a backpack that’s usually reserved for day trips with the kids. He’s always been a light traveller; two or three changes of clothes and hygiene products. Always shrugging his shoulders and saying he’ll buy more things if he really needs to every time she brings it up that he’s not nearly taking enough with him. And he always returns with the same amount of things as when he’d left; nothing new among the old. He lives simply. A hard habit to break when you’ve spent years not really giving a shit about your personal appearance. He’s happy just owning a couple pairs of jeans, old sweats and taking the same three pairs of cargo pants with him on every job. Perfectly content in board shorts and tattered t-shirts he’s owned for god knows how long.

Anil steps to the driver’s side of the truck, greeting her with a warm smile and a kiss to each cheek before clasping one of her hands in both of his. He’s very much like his brother; a gentle soul stuck in the body of a man capable of so much vengeance and rage. She’d see it in Saju’s eyes. There on the Sultana Kamal Bridge. A kindness and compassion underneath all those cuts and bruises and broken bones. He’d been weary; a former soldier turned family man, caught in a nightmare brought on by his own employer. Having to revert back to his ways of old in order to save the ones he loved.

“You look so much like your brother.” Esme gestures towards Anil’s apparel. “All black. It’s what Saju was wearing. That day on the bridge. It really is uncanny; how much you look like him. Almost like seeing a ghost.”

“You were the last one to see him. Alive. You were with him in those final minutes?”

“I was with Ovi. He’d told us to hide. Not to come out until he told us it was safe to. Neither of us were with him. But we saw it; what happened to him. How he died.”

“When it’s a better time, I’d like to speak with you. About Saju. About my brother. About his time on the bridge. What it was like for him.”

“It felt like hours. I was probably thirty minutes, forty five at the most. But it felt like it lasted a lifetime. Like it was never going to end and we were never going to get out of there.”

“We will talk. When things have settled down. There’s things I’d like to ask you. About Saju. His state of mind. Things he may have said.”

“I don’t think we said more than a few words to each other. I don’t know what I could possibly tell you. We didn’t even know one another. I was just some girl he was supposed to kill. That’s it.”

“It would just be nice to hear about his last minutes. How he was. How he seemed. There’s no one else who can tell me these things. I want to hear them. I NEED to hear them.”

Esme nods in understanding.

“Schedule permitting, I will be at the house when you and the children arrive. I would prefer to welcome you myself; give a tour of my home and my property. But I apologize in advance if that can not be. It’s hard to say where the next couple of days will lead us all. Soon we will speak. But for now…” he takes her hand once more. “...I bid farewell. I’ve taken up too much of your time when there’s someone else more deserving of it.”

“Stay safe,” she says. “You have a lot of good people working with you.”

He gives a soft smile of appreciation and then clasps Tyler on the shoulder as he approaches. “Take your time. There’s no rush. The pilot waits for us, not the other way around.”

“Must be nice to have that kind of pull,” Tyler remarks, watching as Anil crosses the tarmac. “That kind of cash. A private jet just to carry weapons and ammo and all that other shit? Talk about having money to burn.”

“This coming from a man who has millions of dollars in the bank, yet only owns three pairs of underwear,” she teases.

“Only need three if you don’t wear any ninety seven percent of the time.”

“Now you’re a math whiz too? You really ARE a study in a contradiction. You got everything?”

He nods. Eyes refusing to meet hers, top teeth dragging across his bottom lip. “You know what to do, right? If something does happen? You take the money and go. Leave and don’t look back. Change your last name. The kids’ too. There can’t be any trace of me; nothing that can lead guys like Mahajan back to you. Just go and don’t look back. Promise me.”

“I promise. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.” She lays her hands on his hips. “That all we have to do is talk about it. That all this will be over sooner rather than later and you’ll come and get us and we can go home. All of us.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen,” he vows.

“I know you will. I have no doubt in mind that it’ll happen. This isn’t the last time we’re going to see each other.”

He heaves a shaky sigh. “I really fucking hope it isn’t.”

Placing her forehead against his chest, she wraps her arms around his torso, hand rubbing his back. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know you don’t,” he lays one hand on the back of her head, the other on the small of her back. “I wish there was some other way.”

“This is harder than I thought it would be. We’ve been through a lot of these moments. You think we’d be used to them by now. But this one hurts. Way more than any of those ever did.”

He nods, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. I’ll miss your cold feet and your snoring.” She’s grinning as she tilts her head back to look up at him. “And the way you never complain when I steal all the blankets.”

“I MIGHT miss the way you talk in your sleep,” Tyler chides. “But I’ll definitely miss the way you wake me up some mornings.”

“You won’t get THAT kind of wake up call at the hotel.”

He gives a small chuckle. “I’ll come and see you guys as soon as I can. Soon as they tell me it’s safe enough. I’ll even wear the vest. Just for you.”

“You better,” she says, and both his hands move to the sides of her face; calloused palms gently cradling it as he kisses her. Long and soft and sweet. So tender it both takes her breath away and breaks her heart. The tears responding accordingly; hot and stinging as they find her cheeks.

“I love you, Esme. So much. I’ll always love you. Remember that, okay? Just in case.”

“I love you. More than you could ever know. And I’m so proud of you, Tyler. For how far you’ve come since Dhaka. For who you’ve become. No one can take that from you. How hard you had to fight. No one can take that.”

He manages to hold back his own tears, swallowing noisily before drawing her into a hug; as tight as that little body allows him to hold it. Eyes closed and his brow resting against the top of her head, her hands clutching at the back of his shirt. “I gotta go,” he says. “I’ll call you when I get there. So you know I arrived safe and sound.”

“Be safe, okay? And be smart. Think with your head, not your heart.”

“I will.” He kisses her once more, then presses his lips to her forehead. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, reluctantly releasing her hold on him. “You will.”

She watches as he goes. Those broad shoulders slumped, hands shoved in his pockets, barely balancing up when Koen speaks to him as he passes. He won’t look back. He never does. Always saying that that’s when he’s at his weakest; while walking away. And that if he glances even briefly over his shoulder, he’ll change his mind and stay. Even when the best thing to do is leave.

Koen gives a sympathetic smile and lays a hand on her shoulder. “How you holding up?”

“I’m not,” Esme admits, and the tears come in earnest. A tsunami of emotions that comes flowing through her body; wracked by heavy sobs that shake her from head to toe.

“Easy now...easy…” Koen coos, as he draws her into his arms. “...it’s all going to be alright. HE’S going to be alright. You know he is. He’s a tough shit. And stubborn. Stubborn as all hell. No way he’s going to let this Mahajan and those drongos of his get the better of him.”

“All I can think about is what if that’s the last time I ever got to kiss him? That I’m ever going to feel those arms around me? Hear his voice? Smell him? What if…”

“Don’t you do that. Don’t you talk like that. That’s not what you need right now. That’s what HE needs. He needs you to be strong. For yourself, for those rugrats, for him. He’s always going on and on about how strong you are; how it’s one of the things that made him fall so quick for you. Well now you’ve got to live up to that. Prove him right. You’re better than this; stronger than this. Don’t let him down.”

“It’s just hard. To pretend that everything is fine when it feels like everything is going to shit. Promise me you’ll keep an eye on him? Because he puts on a really good front, but what’s going inside is a whole other thing. And don’t tell him I told you to do it. That’ll only piss him off.”

“I know how to handle that shit head. Been putting up with him for quite a while.”

“And keep him away from booze. He needs to be sober to get this done. The last thing he needs is falling back into old habits. Especially with this job.”

“So I think that taking him to the strippers is out of the question?” Koen teases.

“I’m serious,” she sniffles. “He’s big and he’s strong and he’s intimidating as all hell. But he needs someone to watch out for him. To care about him. Make sure he eats. And sleeps. It’s important to me. That you look after him. I trust you with this. With him.”

“I’ve got you,” Koen vows. “I’ve got this. He’s in good hands.”

“And you take care of yourself, too. Be safe. And when it comes to the job itself, listen to what Tyler says. He knows what he’s talking about and he knows what he’s doing. No one is as good as he is at this. No one. He got me and Ovi out of Dhaka. If you want to stay alive in Mumbai, you have to listen to him. You have to trust him.”

“Gonna be weird taking orders from that little piss ant. I remember when I was in charge of him back in the SASR. Now he’s MY boss?”

“If you want to survive, you’ll do whatever Tyler says. No questions asked. I trust him...only him...with my life. Trust him with yours too.”

“I will,” Koen promises, then presses a kiss to her cheek. “Hang in there kiddo. Those littles need their momma.”

“They need their dad too,” Esme reminds him as he walks away. “Is it too much to ask that you bring my husband home alive?”

“Wouldn’t think of bringing him back any other way,” he says, then gives a wink in farewell, footsteps heavy on the tarmac as he heads for the plane.

****

The inside of the jet is both spacious and luxurious; black leather seats and couches, glass and chrome tables, a handful of flat screen televisions mounted on wood panelled walls, and a fully stocked bar. Nathan and Ovi are already taking advantage of Anil’s generosity and hospitality; a bottle of expensive cognac already cracked open, their laughter and boisterous conversation filling the cabin. It’s a far cry from what any of them are used to. Not even Ovi, who’d experienced the comforts of wealth and had spent his time being chauffeured around in sleek town cars driving by armed bodyguards, had ever been in this particular lap of luxury. And while it shouldn’t bother Tyler that they're indulging and in particularly high spirits given the enormity of the situation, it does. They're nauseatingly obnoxious and he wants nothing more than to beat the ever living shit out of them.

It’s just his mood; on edge, irritable, heartbroken. Drowning in the reality that he may never see his family again. That even though he refuses to acknowledge the word ‘goodbye, those hugs and those kisses from his wife and children could very well have been just that. The others don’t have that much to lose; single, no one to worry about outside of themselves. There’s no way they could ever begin to imagine what he’s going through; the profound worry and sadness that comes with having that much to lose. And he doesn’t acknowledge their presence; ignoring their requests for him to join them and the offers of drinks and the murmurs of ‘what the hell is wrong with him?’. He’d expected more from Ovi. But he’s young and impressionable and is affected by his surroundings and easily succumbs to peer pressure. And holds an almost unhealthy idolization of Nathan. Who’s young and single as well and easily attracts the attention of the ladies.

He sinks into a seat near the front of the plane; next to the window with his back towards the others. Bag at his feet and his legs stretched out in front of him; head tilted back and his eyes closed, hands clasped and resting on his stomach. And hears Koen’s arrival on the jet; those heavy, clunky footsteps and his thick accent and loud voice. There’s nothing discreet about the man. Part of his charm, Tyler supposes. A fiercely loyal friend that will rip you to shreds with his teasing one minute, but fight to the death to protect you the next. And he hears a loud smack and then grins when Nathan protests the slap that had been delivered -Tyler guesses- to the back of his head.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Koen growls. “Don’t shit talk the man. Can’t you see he’s going through something? Shut your damn mouth or I’ll shut it for you.”

Within seconds he feels Koen’s presence by his side, then hears a groan as his friend drops into the seat across from him. Only opening his eyes and acknowledging his friend when he feels the press of cool, smooth glass against his knee.

“Something to take the edge off?” Koen inquires, offering the bottle of cognac he’d snagged from the others.

Tyler shakes his head.

“Top shelf. None of that pig piss we’ve been drinking all these years. A couple of swallows won’t hurt ya.”

“Don’t want any,” he says, and closes his eyes once more.

“That was a test, anyway. Just to see how you fucked you might be. Good sign, I reckon. You turning it down.”

“I guess.”

“You gonna stay clean through this?” Koen inquires. “No stupid shit?”

“That’s the plan.”

“I’ll be on your ass to make sure you do. You got too much riding on this to let the booze fuck it all up.”

Tyler scowls. “You don’t think I realize that?”

“I think your heart’s torn to fucking pieces and you might cave and try to find something to take a bit of the sting away.”

He scoffs. “What the fuck do you know?”

“I know you’re not the same bloke you were seven years ago. The one that made the jump off that cliff. I know you’re a guy that loves his wife and his kids with every fibre of his miserable fucking being. Who doesn’t think he deserves the life he has; someone that loves him, kids that adore him. And I also know you’re a guy that would die for them. No hesitation. And you’re thinking that’s likely what it’s going to come down to.”

Tyler smirks. “You’re a fucking shrink now?”

“Nope. Just an old, crotchety fuck that happens to care a whole lot about your sorry ass. And if you think you’re dying on my watch, you have another thing coming. And if you think I’m just going to sit back and watch you do something that’s going to fuck your life up, you’re wrong about that too. Because one screw up and I will beat your tail into the next century, drag you back to this one, and beat your tail all over again. Hear me?”

A grin plays at the corners of Tyler’s mouth. “Sweet talker.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not my type. Besides, I try anything, your little missus will kick my ass. And I bet she packs a bigger punch than you do. You don’t scare me. She does. Always the small ones. They’re sketchy. Cagey. No wonder you tow the line. Probably knock your ass into the middle of next week if you step out of place.”

“Probably.”

Koen takes a swallow of cognac. “You gonna be alright?”

Tyler nods.

“Because it’s okay if you’re not. You don’t gotta hold it together, you know. Anyone would understand if you fell apart just a bit.”

“I’m fine.”

“There’s no shame in it. There’s…”

“I said I’m fine,” Tyler irritably interjects. “Enough.”

“You know as well as I do that you’re not.”

He sighs.

“But I ain’t gonna push ya. Nothing good ever comes of that. But I’m here for you. Just sayin’.”

“I appreciate that. But I’m fine. Drop it.”

“But I do draw the line at hand jobs or blow jobs.” Koen says. “Just so you know. I don’t care how big your muscles are or how pretty your eyes are.”

Tyler snickers. “You’d be the last I’d ask, so…”

“Now THAT’S hurtful. Always thought maybe you had a crush on me.”

“You’re delusional.”

“So does that mean you DON’T want me sneaking in your room tonight and spoonin’ with ya?”

Tyler laughs. “Fuck off.”

Koen chuckles, then leans over in his seat to tussle Tyler’s hair. “You’re gonna be alright, mate.”

Tyler nods, then sighs heavily and leans his head back against his seat once more.

They don’t speak for the rest of the flight.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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kinetic-elaboration · 4 years

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October 2: 1x17 The Squire of Gothos

Not one of the strongest S1 episodes but not bad either.

Why is Spock not nostalgic for the desert? It’s where he’s from.

I love, and it never gets old, how Kirk always grows so Fond whenever Spock and Bones banter. “Ah, yes, my two favorite people in the world, Interacting.”

Spock showing off his eye makeup with a dramatic eyeroll.

Uhura’s voice is so beautiful.

OH NO SULU? WHERE’D YOU GO?

THE CAPTAIN? DISAPPEARED?

Love how Spock yells “emergency!” Like, yeah, I’d say it is!

The rarely heard Spock narration. “Captain James Kirk”--do none of his boyfriends know his middle name?

Lol at Trelaine trying out his calligraphy.

Spock’s not up for this nonsense. “If that’s the Captain or Sulu they’ve lost their gosh darned minds.”

Spock in The Chair.

Spock and Scotty can’t be spared for the landing party but McCoy can lol. He’s only the CMO nbd if he just dies in a totally unbreathable wasteland.

Spock is looking thoughtful and clearly upset.

Oh no, no cell service! Again! Have you guys tried switching networks?

Love this weird ass set.

Salt monster! What! Look Bones it’s your gf.

“Display pair” lol.

Is that...Liberace?

“Did you like my whimsical way of getting you here?”

This episode is both way funnier and way more interesting knowing who Trelaine really is. Like the concept of an alien child watching past Earth, thinking its present Earth, and becoming obsessed with in the exact way children do, is so good?

“Our missions are peaceful, not for conquest.”

“One of the few predator species that preys on itself.”

Omg at the French and German. A little disappointed he didn’t break out the Japanese and/or call Sulu a samurai.

Not very smart of DeSalle to approach stealthily from behind when Trelaine is looking into a mirror like duh he can see you? In that huge-ass mirror?

It actually is kind of nuts, and doesn’t make the most sense, that phasers make things disappear.

No! Salt monster!!

I love Kirk in suspicious mode. He can be fun and relaxed and have a sense of humor but the SECOND something threatens or appears to threaten his crew he’s on high alert, very serious and focused and not up for nonsense of ANY sort.

Absolutely hilarious that Spock was the First Officer a moment before and now he’s the Science Officer.

“If the Captain’s alive, that’s where he’d have to be. And uh those other people too, whatever.”

Sulu asking the important questions here. (I wrote this down and already have no idea what it was referring to.)

“It doesn’t even show that he exists at all.” Well either their instruments just don’t know how to pick up on the life force of this new kind of alien or they’re confused because he’s essentially just energy, non-corporeal.

Kirk thinking so deeply about all this is also hilarious in context. “He’s not all knowing. He makes mistakes.” Uh you think? He’s 8 years old.

I feel like this whole ep is just a burn on humans who are obsessed with war and romanticize the whole concept of war-mongering. (ETA based on the amazon trivia I am right about this.)

“Our companions.” Such a sweet way of referring to the crew.

WOMEN! Hydration game: drink whenever someone finds women surprising.

“Those are crucial operating personnel.”

“The party’s over, thanks to Mr. Spock.”

Trelaine is not a “life being” obviously.

Who’s this bitch in the Captain’s Chair? Shouldn’t it be Scotty?

Random Yeoman trying to flirt.

“Don’t you display your weapons?” Oh man you should see Spock’s room! You’d love it!

Are Vulcans predatory? LOL. Love Spock’s answer (”Not generally but there have been exceptions”) but like honestly I think, historically, the answer is yes?

Sulu is hilarious. He’s like the opposite of Kirk--when faced with danger, he goes into “might as well laugh through the awkwardness” mode and I appreciate that. A really underrated Sulu trait that the reboot movies completely failed to acknowledge. (Which is extra nuts considering John Cho is very funny!)

Trelaine obviously discerns that McCoy is the most likely to want to drink.

Well at least Trelaine’s not racist....

Never mind.

Spock is so Tired of this already. This little bit, the Trelaine and Spock exchange and Spock’s definition of fascinating, is the best part of the episode. Also I 100% believe this disinterested attitude is the exact one Spock took with Sarek throughout his adolescence. “Is that what you’re doing? Challenging me?” / “Uh, yeah.”

Whereas Jim is just loving this. This is the only fun he’s had all episode. He’s been so annoyed the whole time because Trelaine is annoying but then Spock starts speaking and he breaks out the heart eyes.

McCoy looks so into the food and the booze. Except actually it’s tasteless, never mind again.

“Fascinating is a word I use for the unexpected.” I mean definitely the best quote of the ep!

Trelaine’s not into the miniskirt look.

Kirk, whispering: Explain.

Kirk and Spock figuring things out together <3<3<3

Look at that crocodile head over the mantle.

ALSO love when Kirk breaks into acting mode. I stan one dramatic nerd.

Trelaine: a Hamilton fan. Don’t tell him about the musical.

Kirk doesn’t like that gun pointed in his face.

Some good quotes from the Captain’s log: “The creature Trelaine.” “Everything depends on my one chance with the ancient dueling pistol.”

This actor does a good job of being a petulant man child.

He knows Kirk loves Spock the most! Always love when aliens discern that immediately.

The sound effects when Kirk destroys the computer are so wacky.

“Space fleet command.” Still?

Lol at Princess Yeoman. See, Kirk thinks they’re out of danger, and his humor immediately returns.

Oh no, not Gothos again! I love their subtle “hey, we’re turning now” movements.

Judge Trelaine is hilarious but Kirk does not have the sense of humor to appreciate this. “You’re charged with the high crime of being annoying to me.” “Anything you say has already been used against you.” His knowledge of the judicial system is impeccable!

“Vent your anger on me alone!” He is so good!! He is the hero we deserve!

“Captain’s log, Spock here again.”

“Why, Captain, you’re still angry!” I do kind of like this thing about Trelaine not really being able to feel emotions, or at least not for very long, like that’s one of the things he’s seeking in his play.

“Everything’s too easy for you. Check your privilege Trelaine.”

Lol at the noose just moving in the air toward him.

Trelaine has obviously read The Most Dangerous Game.

Kirk is looking extra handsome here.

“You’ve been beaten.” / “But I’m not defeated.” You tell him!

It’s sooooo obvious that Trelaine is a child.

I like that when his parents are speaking to him, they shoot him in a way that makes him look very small. Kirk is finally finding this funny now. “Time to come in now.” “But I’m not done studying my predators!” “Or you’ll not be permitted to make any more planets.”

“Beam me up, Mr. Spock. Beam me up into your loving arms.”

Alien classification: a small, naughty boy.

The concept of the last banter between K and S is cute but really distractingly anachronistic. Like why does Kirk think Spock’s childhood took place in, idk, the 1800s? However, I appreciate both Kirk’s flirty face and Spock’s super confused face. (Which, I must say, ZQ could imitate really well.)

So overall.. I like the general hook of this episode--the alien child who appears as a humanoid adult, is obsessed with humans, acting as a commentary on human obsession with war--but I don’t think it needed to be 50 minutes. The story could easily have been told in half the time. Like everything after Kirk shoots the mirror, other than the final reveal, reads like fluff, to make the ep fit the time slot.

Thus I would say it’s decent, a B episode, with a strong concept and some good moments, but not as iconic as most of the other eps this season.

Next up, Captain Gorn co-starring in Arena!

#star trek tos #the year 2020 #2020: fandom thoughts #2020: star trek

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templarhalo · 4 years

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Templarhalo reviews Birds of Prey. (It’s pretty fantabulous)

HERE BE SPOILERS YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Ok without this movie, I would have not been a Cassandra Cain fan. I would have not four, yes four ongoing fics with her as the main character. I would not be emotionally and financially invested in the DC cinematic universe or the comics side of things.

Which baffles me because this movie is perfect in almost every aspect,... Except how they treated Cassandra Cain. Which is a fucking shame because her actress is perfect, her chemistry and relationship with Harley is perfect, and the idea of Cass growing up as this pickpocket foster kid, taken in by Harley is unconventional, but I fucking love it.

Here’s a brief summary. After breaking up with the Joker Harley Quinn has to make her own way as the strong, badass, indepent woman we all know she is, while dealing with the fact that without Mistah J’s fell reputation as his significant other to shield her, a lot of people want her raped, tortured, killed and left for the crows… Not necessarily in that order.

To get these people off her back and save her own skin, from one of them, the infamous Black Mask. Harley agrees to recover the Bertinelli Diamond, a diamond encoded with the info for a source of 30 million dollars, Black Mask needs to fiance his take over of Gotham. Which was pickpocketed from one of his associates by our Lady and savior Cass.

The problem is, Cass kind of ate it( (I shit you not) and Black Mask’s guys would rather cut it out of her than wait for the poor kid to take a dump Not to mention Detective tReene Montoya (played by her Gotham Actress, which would have been a nice bit of world building if Gotham was actually in the movie continuity) building a case against Black Mask, with the aid of Black Canary Plus Huntress is indirectly gunning for him and Harley in her own quest for revenge. All these plot points converge into a very satisfying climax and fight scene with a somewhat emotionally satisfying ending.

From a technical standpoint this film is a spectacle. Gotham in the day is colorful but rundown, with markets, suave evil bad guy clubs, dilapidated Chinese restaurants and abandoned amusement parks. The fight scenes are AMAZING with a wonderful tension and energy that makes them incredibly visualising satisfying. Everything flows, the ladies move with an enthralling grace that makes them breaking bones, crushing legs,and tearing through people visceral and heartstopping. (And arousing. Like goddamn Jurnee Smollett-Bell could kill me with her legs and I’d thank her)

The problem, is none of this applies to Cass, and this is the films major flaw besides how short it is. (One hour and forty five minutes). If you had problems with how Harley was handled in Suicide Squad, the movie fixes it. Black Canary gets a short but satisfying emotional arc that feels natural. She goes from a cynical, lethargic woman, content to be Black Masks “Little Bird”; A singer at his club, driver and symbol of his power/dominance over other women until her own conscience kicks in at Harley and Cass’ predicament. Huntress also has a short but satisfying arc in which she gets her vengeance on the people who murdered her family and clearly finds a new one to fill the hole in her life, in the form of the Birds. Reene and her portrayal is a love letter to the 80s cop/hard boiled detectives, a pure, simultaneously complicated/uncomplicated woman seeking to do good for Gotham.

But Cass… Doesn’t feel like Cass and is criminally underutilized except as a walking mcguffin by dint of eating the Mcguffin. She’s introduced to us a snarky tween, stuck in a cycle of shitty foster homes and a pickpocket to get by. And that’s it. T

here are moments where you think she'll get a cool fight scene. Moments where you think she’ll have an emotional heart to heart with Harley, moments where you think…she’ll do something besides run from the bad guys and get saved by the Birds of Prey/Her four moms.

In the end she drives into the sunset with Harley and Bruce the Hyena, but it doesn’t feel earned, satisfying as the scene is. There is nothing implying or hinting she’s the daughter of two of the deadliest assassins in the DC universe, nothing about her running away from David Cain, nothing on her learning disabilities/selective mutism and NOTHING, setting her up to be adopted by Batman and become Batgirl

And this is a fucking shame, because Ella Jay Basco has a real chemistry with Margert and the rest of the cast. She’s adorable, funny, snarky and wonderful as Cass. She brings energy and spunk and I would cut off my left hand, to see her act as Cassandra Cain, not this generic punk kid with the name.

And I feel like this is a HUGE problem because the movie sets up this Mother/daughter relationship, with Cass being Harley’s motivation to be a better person. She goes from willing to hand her over to Black Mask to taking the kid under her wing. Cass is the glue that bands the Birds of Prey together. These lovely, dangerous, women coming together to keep a little girl safe, doesn’t feel as emotionally satisfying as it should because Cass isn’t Cass.

While I will praise the movie for Harley’s arc of seeking her own emancipation and agency outside her abusive relationships and life of crime, I feel like Harley’s arc should have been a question of redemption. Cassandra’s motivation to become Batgirl was her refusal to kill again. (Hey WB remember how in Batman Begins Bruce refused to kill a man because “I will not be an executioner.”)

Here Cass is fine with killing. She chucks a bomb at some goons chasing her and she kills Black Mask with a grenade in the end.

Yeah… Cass “I refuse to kill because my dad made me kill an innocent man at eight years old and killing is wrong” kills people.

*head meet desk*

Sucide Squad, set up Harley and the squad, for an unconventional redemption arc, spite motivated it may be, yet Harley despite her line to Cass “You make me want to be a less terrible person” isn’t seeking to make amends for what she did as the Joker’s henchman. (Like being an accomplice to Jason Todd’s murder).

.Cass pickpots and steals to survive, because she’s a kid with no family passed from foster home to foster home, Harley steals because she can, steal a truck to blow up a chemical plant because she can. Kills because she can. (granted she does use an M79 grenade launcher with bean bag shells for one scene but besides that.)

I like the idea of Harley taking Cass under her wing, its an unconventional but fresh idea, but it doesn’t feel entirely satisfying, and Cass not being Cass, not having an arc beyond “Go along with Harley as her apprentice” really undermines the excellent themes and message the movie is trying to convey.

Now maybe in the Suicide Squad reboot with James Gunn or a future DC film , Cass is going to leave Harley because that life of crime and killing doesn’t suit her and she realizes she’s trying to be something she’s not and I’m just being overly critical, but I still feel like “Harley and Cass seeking redemption and moving past their abusers together” should have been where this movie left off, and it baffles me that it doesn’t from a narrative perspective.

Anway the overall themes and message of Birds of Prey are represented in Evan Mcregor’s Black Mask, a walking talking example of repressive toxic masculinity and misogyny. A flamboyant, all but stated to be a repressed Bi, crime lord seeking to take control of Gotham, Black Mask moves with confidence in his loud suits, and charming quirkiness, He’s cruel, sadistic and repulsive His mannerisms ooz terror,and insanity. He moves like a love child between Heath Ledger and Joaquin Phoenix’s take on the Joker, Gaston from Beauty and the Beast and Joffery Baratheon from Game of Thrones. He’s a control freak, trying to be a badass.

One minute he’s the Godfather, the next he’s a brat. He views Harley as nothing without the Joker, telling her that she needs him to protect her. He enjoys asserting his dominance over Harley during her brief capture by having his men beat her while he eats popcorn. He objectifies Black Canary for her singing voice and beauty..

Black Mask asserts his power and authority over the underworld by his control over women. In one frightening scene, he believes one of the women at his club is laughing at him for his failure to capture Cass, so he orders her to stand on a table, then for her boyfriend to rip open her dress with a knife because he finds it ugly.

In summary he represents the patriarchy. He represents sexist, abusive men. He’s a representation of social norms and ideals that are repressive and disgusting, and rob women of their agency, and self-worth. He represents the use of violence, not for noble reasons, but as a means to control women and lash out at those that defy him and supposedly wronged him .

Furthering this line of thought are the costumes. Black Canary’s costumes represent the amount of control, Black Mask has in her life. When we first see her, Dinah is wearing a long black netted evening gown that accents her legs as she sings “It’s a Man’s Man’s World”. Later she wears a blue tank top and gold, tightfitting pants clearly meant to draw our gaze to her ass and thighs. When she’s Black Mask’s driver, she’s wearing a Bra/crop top that bares her midriff under a short blue blaze, but when she decides she’s going to defy him, she wears a yellow tank top and jeans with a gold belt.

Harley’s costumes are as eclectic as she is, with her DIY caution tape shawl, stamped tops and cut up shorts. Huntress’s outfits are all black leather and punkish athletic wear, utilitarian and elegant in their simplicity while Reene wears a “I shave my balls for this” t-shirt reflecting her uncouth, blunt demeanor, as well as button down dress shirts and slacks for the climactic asskicking montage .

Cass is a kid,who clearly doesn’t have the funds for super nice clothes. She;s running around in ratty shorts and a worn out hoody with a red windbreaker, with an orange bandanna askew on her head. At the end, when she rides off with Harley, she copying Harley’s style.

Speaking of costumes, one thing I appreciate is that instead of the male gaze and sexualisation, we get what I like to call “passive fan service” What I mean is that instead of tracking shots on Harley’s ass or boob shoots, like in Suicide Squad the camera just lets these women’s beauty do the talking.

Huntress is wearing a sports bra and tactical pants for the climax, but the camera doesn’t linger on her boobs. A primary example of this is a lot of Padme’s scenes in Episodes II and III of Star Wars. Lucas knows Natalie Portman is a gorgeous woman and he doesn’t need to remind us by deliberate camera shots. He lets Natalie herself and Trisha Biggar’s excellent costumes do it for us.

Also one thing I really… really liked was how in the big penultimate fight, Harley actually passes Dinah a hair tie so she can get her hair out of the way. So for like a minute, she’s beating the ever loving fuck out of goons with her legs as she ties up her hair. A very nice case of reality ensures.

In conclusion Birds of Prey is another notch in the belt for the DC cinematic universe, a solid, fun film with an excellent cast with clear chemistry, hampered by character derailment that undermines its sorely needed themes and message it's trying to convey. The plot is fast paced, but doesn't feel rushed even though it’s only a little over an hour long. It’s uncompromisingly bold, bloody and hilarious. The lack of a proper post credits scene is somewhat annoying and I'm very disappointed how Cass was handled , but this is by no means a terrible film.

Overall I give it a 8.9 out of 10. Highly recommend you go see it. Drag your friends, smuggle in as much candy and drinks as you can. Buy it when it comes out on DVD. If you’re a Cass fan, reread the Puckett run or pick up her new graphic novel Shadow of the Batgirl to wash out the bittersweet taste this will give you. Speaking of Kelley Puckett, he was actually listed in the “Special thanks to…” in the credits, which i’m sure many will appreciate.

These following posts and thoughts on the film I recommend.

https://dcwomenofcolor.tumblr.com/post/190693985900/how-would-you-fix-bop-cass

https://wits-writing.tumblr.com/post/190718974642/birds-of-prey-movie-review

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0YeFJjoQoec

#birds of prey #cassandra cain #templarhalo rambles #Templarhalo reviews books

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cowboylikedean · 5 years

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FIRST THOUGHTS

Okay everyone welcome to my Lover first thoughts!!!

Overall: I love this album. It isn’t what I expected at first, I was expecting something stripped an acoustic but it is what I hoped for. If I wasn’t going to have stripped and acoustic, I wanted something Bubblegum in the modern way Carly Rae Jepsen is and guess what? I got an album that sounds like my FAVORITE parts of EMOTION from nearly top to bottom. This album is a lot so it’s gonna take a while fo me to digest, but I adore it. It’s already up there with Speak Now, Red, and reputation in my top tier.

Below is my track by track

I Forgot That You Existed: I’ve seen people skip over this one but honestly? I needed it. I don’t know who she’s talking about, she lost a lot of friends summer 2016. But I am singing about that jackass who up and left my life and took me for several hundred dollars and then laughed as his asshole boyfriend posted a long ass blog post lying about me, misgendering me for sport, and making fun of me all while laughing about how he’s “not nice” (and being proud of that) when even HIS FOLLOWERS called him out for being cruel. I had that moment where I forgot that he existed and it was so freeing. This is gonna be one of my most listened to.

Cruel Summer: This song. Holy wow. Like talk about bridge city I guess lmao! Nah but it’s a vibe. and the chorus is so exciting and like I mentioned Carly Rae Jepsen and like THE CHORUS CAN’T YOU HEAR HER???? I love this theme all over this album about falling into a relationship with someone in the midst of something hard or pushing through something difficult with someone. Cruel Summer is the first instance of this in this album and I’m going to need more time with the lyrics… There’s little things that I’m gonna need more time with… But I adore this vibe where she’s like telling the other side of Getaway Car. In Getaway Car we learned that you can’t run away from your problems, it doesn’t end well. In Cruel Summer we find her release in doing so. We find how that release of running away was what she needed to find herself and stability again. We find that without her past, she could never have arrived so wondrously and brutally, by design or some violent, exquisite happenstance… here.

Lover: Instant fave the second I heard it. Best love song she’s ever written and I 100% understand why she named the album Lover. This track is beautiful and the slower tempo doesn’t in any way detract from the sheer joy and excitement expressed in the song. It’s a public declaration of a private love in the most excited way and I get it. Also I did get some acoustic singer songwriter on this album!!

The Man: DID I HEAR TAYLOR SAY BITCH TWICE?!?!??!? also fuck she’s right. and I GUESSED HOW THE LYRICS WE HAD WOULD SOUND AND I WAS RIGHT i felt like a bomb when that happened. hahah tbh though, not my fave. Don’t get me wrong, far from the worst but just kind middle of the road to me. Also I think it’s the breakdown after the chorus that pushes it towards the middle to me. But again… Bridge city. The bridge is by far the best part of this song.

The Archer: I still think this is my favorite song on the album. It has already helped me so much and I think Taylor and I feel depression, anxiety, and other stuff very similarly. Basically everything she’s released about it has highly resonated with me. I have so much to say about this song and its impact on me but I don’t think if I said all of that it would be much relevant to this post. Basically, I never grew up it’s getting so old. This song helps me grow up.

I Think He Knows: This song is so fucking fun and cute I jive and the chorus again I feel the Carly Rae vibes… I also love “bless my soul” like that’s such a great lyric. This is another one I feel is middle of the road for this album though. Like as a pop song, it’s top rate. As this album, it’s middle of the road. I’m happy to hear the vocoder again though!

Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince: So I love this song. Everyone loves this song but I love this song both as its political commentary and just a commentary on depression in general. Like as a song about the specific depression and disappointment that struck us all after the 2016 election, it’s nearly flawless. As a song about disappointment and depression in general, it’s nearly flawless. I really love both readings but in the later, I really love the line “they whisper in the hallway she’s a bad bad girl” because in this reading, I like to see that about Taylor and how she is Miss Americana and the heartbreak prince. idk I think the fact that this song can work in both contexts’ and have completely separate meanings speaks to the strength of the songwriting. I’m so impressed. She hit it out of the park with this one.

Paper Rings: OKAY SECOND FAVORITE/TIED WITH FAVORITE HAPPY LOVE SONG WOW WOWOWOWOW The Last Kiss reference, the vibe that sounds like a teen movie when the kids break out and are running wild and free, idk why but I love “The moon is high just like your friends when we first met” it’s just so…. vivid. You cannot miss the feeling of freedom. This song is about finding freedom in love. Falling in love is the most exciting and free feeling in the world, whether that is romantic love or not and this song captures that feeling when you get to that ledge and you just….. slip. And the best part is it works for everything. Like idk I’ve always been able to take the feeling a song presents and take it out of its specific context and apply it to another instance of that feeling so I can easily take this song about the freely falling in love and look around and find hundreds of applications. Every time you love something or someone to the point where you don’t need anything else than what they give you to feel whole and complete, this song is there in the background reminding you that you do in fact like shiny things, but you don’t need them. Because this thing or person is all you need. LIKE STOP IT’S SO GOOD also 100% if she sang it with a country accent, it’d be a country hit. It sounds so much like Sam Hunt I cannot even, i have died.

Cornelia Street: The ROOFFKLJDSLKFJKSLDJFKLSDJLKFJLKSDF also like I am here for the storytelling songwriting so much. This is another one I need more time with but I think it’s already a classic. Again, it’s so nice to here something other than “I love you and everything is great” I mean it is like that but it’s the fear of being forced to say goodbye and how that would feel. It’s knowing you’ve gone all in and there’s no turning back. I see this song so beautiful contrasted with All Too Well. All Too Well focuses on a heartbreak that only time could help, but it seemed like time wouldn’t. It takes you through the beginning, middle, and end of that relationship and explains why it hurts so much. Cornelia Street takes us through this relationship, especially the beginning, and explains why this would be a heartbreak time couldn’t fix. It’s so vulnerable and honest in some really beautiful and profound ways.

Death by a Thousand Cuts: Okay so first of all, I would ADORE this song if that very low bass and synths weren’t there. I don’t know why they’re there but it muddles they for me and I can’t focus on anything because it’s like everything else is covered in a thick layer of mud trying to move around. Second I have no idea who or what this song was written about but it’s jarring to hear a breakup song on this album. I love asking the traffic lights if it will be okay and them saying “I don’t know.” Like that’s honestly incredible writing. We’ve all had those times when we’re hurting or scared and we’re in the car and we’re looking for a sign it will be okay but we have nothing. Also I need more time with the second verse. There’s so much there, I haven’t had time yet to process.

London Boy: “But God, I Love the English.” Yep you got a TYPE GIRL!! this song is so fun!! it’s so bragging… I love it! She’s just like “yeah I love a London Boy what OF IT BITCH” and it just feels like a mic drop like she’s like doing that move where you slam your hands at your crotch like a dick??? like idk it’s such a bde to me. Like she’s name dropping all these London things and bragging about how she’s English now because she’s got this guy and bragging about her type and her Anglophile fetish and idk it just feels like “you got something to SAY??!??!?!” I’ve heard that vibe is very London but idk because I do not have a london boy like she does.

Soon You’ll Get Better: Either Taylor played the album in the wrong order for these fans at the secret sessions or something because this 100% is that song she couldn’t listen to. I have heard it once and I am doubtful to listen to it again. I have listed to Ronan 3 times total. Soon You’ll Get Better is up there. I can’t. I’m so lucky my Dad is in remission and has been for 10 years… If his cancer came back, I don’t know what I’d do. It’s my biggest fear. And the Dixie Chicks sound beautiful on this track, so does the plucking country instrumentals. Gorgeous. I just… can’t. I admire Taylor and family for sharing this, but I can’t.

False God: I understand why this comes after Soon You’ll Get Better. She needs that thing to fall into, to give herself over into. The hard times my hurt and might be difficult, but they don’t end a relationship. Soon You’ll Get Better is a really hard time and a sick parent can put a lot of stress on a relationship and False God feels like the perfect way to pick up the main overaching love story and give it a response to Soon You’ll Get Better. It’s hard, but they can get through it. Even if it’s a false god, they’ll be there. That said, this song is far from my favorite. I feel so disconnected from it. It just feels boring. I get sucked in the last few lines of the pre-chours where she rushes through the lyrics and then the chorus is nice, but by the time the chorus ends, I’m bored again. The production gives me almost nothing. It feels like What A Feeling… a perfectly fine song, but boring as fuck and like it’s got a vibe that I don’t really fuck with. Like it feels like a song you get high to… and I don’t get high often, and I only do it ever when I’m going to sleep. So it feels like I’m going to sleep.

You Need to Calm Down: Let me start by prefacing that I ADORE the song. It was really important for her to say and I needed something to respond to the internet’s take down cancel culture and remind me not to get in the middle of the fights. However, this song sticks out like a sore thumb to me. It doesn’t feel like it fits. Coming after False God it feels like a complete outlier and like it doesn’t relate to the rest of the album. I could see an argument that it is about basic human respect and that kind of love and therefore has its place, but is this placement in the tracklist it??? I am thankful for the break when YNTCD comes because Soon You’ll Get Better is so heavy that it caries over to False God, but YNTCD feels completely unnecessary if you skip Soon You’ll Get Better and all of that heartbreak. Again though, it’s a classic and I adore it. Just not sure if I adore it for this album.

Afterglow: It’s so nice to hear a song from Taylor in which she apologizes and makes up after a fight. I don’t know why but I was worried she wouldn’t let us into the fights her and Joe have. That we would be outside. But like Ed said in End Game “you know that good and bad end up in a song.” Having a song from Taylor after 13 years that shows her experiencing conflict with a partner, apologizing, and ends without an end to the relationship…. And in this song it’s different from how she previously portrayed conflict too. Mine, in it’s hypothetical, expresses her “partner” chasing after her in. ME! (which we’ll get to in a second) also shows that kind of conflict resolution. Afterglow shows her taking responsibility and chasing after them. It’s one of my favorites for sure. Never underestimate the value of an apology. I have a lot to say.

ME!: First of all, fuck everyone “Hey kids, spelling is fun!” is hilarious and I cannot BELIEVE she took it out I am pissed. Second, I like this song so much more in the context of the album. Coming after Afterglow, it is important the next song both take responsibility for her negative traits that lead to that conflict and also not dwell on it. Me takes the whole conflict of Afterglow and reframes it from “I fucked up please don’t leave. Love me despite my flaws?” to “I know I’m difficult, but I am also so much more and damnit, I love me so I know you do too.” While the production still feels a bit hokey, I understand it’s purpose. I will forever be bitter about spelling is fun and you all are so mean. I hope you enjoy what you’ve done monsters.

It’s Nice to Have a Friend: My least favorite song on the album. It’s just so boring to me. The steel drums are nice, but it doesn’t feel like it ever goes anywhere. The chorus is too short and simple and I just feel nothing. idk I like the story I guess… meet in school, hang out timid first step… but then it ends in marriage? Haven’t we done this with Mary’s Song? idk i think I would like it better with a bridge in between the second chorus and the third verse because it’s like they skip the whole dating step. They go meeting, timid first step, MARRIAGE!!!! and the chorus is just not enough to separate second step from third. That and the fact the production doesn’t really go anywhere… It’s just so one note and boring and without any sort of conflict. I get it’s supposed to be like a daydream, I think… but even day dreams have conflicts. idk it’s a bad story because there’s no movement.

Daylight: I see why this album was almost named Daylight. I’m going need a lot more time with this song. I can see it being one of my favorite Taylor songs ever eventually but I need to memorize every second of it to let myself go into it. The Red reference FUCKED ME UP. And the voice message at the end. And just the release of this song. The whole thing is an exhale. A total release of tension. It’s truly astonishing. Like I said though, to really immerse myself in it, I’m going to need to memorize it. Because it’s a release of tension, to find that and feel that, I need to focus on every lyric, every production element, every note and just….. let go. I do think this is one of the most important songs she’s ever written. Both for herself and for the rest of the world. This song is a reminder to breathe. To let it go. To focus on love. To find the love in your life. To not let it get too dark. It’s beautiful and it will keep me going on my path to recovery… as I expect it will for many others too.

Favorites (in order of most to least): The Archer, Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince, Lover = Paper Rings, Afterglow

Least favorites (in order most to least): I Think He Knows, False God, It’s Nice to Have a Friend

#lover album #personal #first thoughts!!

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son-of-alderaan · 5 years

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Making a movie is a powerful thing,” says Adam Driver, dressed in a baggy hoodie and eating a breakfast of bacon and eggs at Brooklyn’s Dumbo House. “And to fuck it up or get tired while you’re making it?” He frowns. “Why not make sure you leave nothing on the table instead?” The 34-year-old actor is here on a cool fall morning talking about his own career, both onscreen — most recently in BlacKkKlansman; most famously as Adam Sackler in HBO’s landmark Girls and Kylo Ren in two Star Wars films — and onstage. It’s the latter, via his Arts in the Armed Forces nonprofit, which brings theater to military personnel, that he’s most eager to talk about. (On November 12, AITAF will celebrate its tenth anniversary with a special Broadway performance of Sam Shepard’s True West.) But he knows it’s the glow from the big and small screens that often draws people in. Like, presumably, the eager young podcaster who sidles up to us and asks if Driver will participate in a live podcast something or other. Or the barista who wants his autograph in her book of poetry. “I thought,” Driver says, despite having handled the interruptions gracefully, “that here I could avoid that kind of thing.”

Stories written about you always make a big deal out of the fact that you’re an actor who served in the military.[1] Like it’s a kitschy thing?

Not so much kitschy, but as if those two jobs are fundamentally at odds. Are they? I see more commonalities than differences, but yeah, in one job you’re pretending the stakes are life and death and in the other they actually are. And people expect that being in the military is going to be difficult. They’re not like, “Oh, the catering’s bad. Oh, we’re shooting more than 14 hours?” Fucking who cares? The stakes are so high [in the military] that there’s no “Well, I feel this way.” Everyone is on the same plane.

What are the commonalities? The team effort. You have a group of people working toward a bigger picture, working together intimately for however long it takes to get the job done, and there’s somebody who’s in charge who, if they know what they’re doing, makes everything seem necessary and urgent. And if they don’t know, everything feels like a demoralizing waste of time.

But the collective effort you just described could also be said about a business or a sports team. Sure.

So what I’m trying to ask about are the specific mental and emotional similarities and differences that might exist between actors and soldiers. It seems to me that one profession is at least partly about individual expression and one is more about conformity. Do you know what I mean? Yeah, I do. This is where things differ: In the military there’s a structure in place for how things work, and you can’t supersede it. If a PFC is really good at his job, then he’ll get put in charge. But in making movies, when people get to a certain level they can push their needs ahead of others’. Acting is not set up to be a collective effort. It can be, but it never is.

What do you mean? There’s more bureaucracy to navigate.

There’s more bureaucracy in acting than in the military? I’d never realized that most of your job in acting is managing personalities and talking about your job. Only, like, 10 percent is the actual doing of it. Sometimes that 10 percent is all you need to keep motivated but often there’s so much bullshit — never mind. I don’t want to complain about having a great job. I don’t want to be that guy. What am I trying to say? Obviously in the arts people have more liberty to be individual, but I still think of the work as a group effort. I’m not saying my view is better than anyone else’s but it can be at odds with someone who thinks, No, you guys are here to support me with my effort.

How much do money and fame distort your thinking and feeling about work? Does money? Yeah, it does. In terms of this nonprofit, we [AITAF][2] could probably be doing even better financially if I wasn’t one of the people at the head because I’m so unwilling to do so many things — or talk to people in general.

Because those things make you uncomfortable? I don’t want to start getting into favors. It’s not about me and Star Wars. It’s about the people that we’re trying to serve and if you don’t get that then I’d rather not be associated with your money. I guess that applies to acting also. But then you have someone like [John] Cassavetes, who did all this TV work and had no loyalty to the things he was doing just for money. He would take all that money and dump it into Faces or Opening Night. I’m sorry. I feel like I don’t have the right answers for you.

There’s nothing wrong with your answers. What made you think acting could fulfill you in the same ways that being in the military did? I don’t know. As you change, your relationship to your job changes. At school [Juilliard] I learned the value of time. Well, I learned that in the military, but I transferred it into making movies. I don’t take doing a play or making a movie for granted: We’re here, right now, and we’re never going to get a chance to do this again. It always seems like a miracle when someone is willing to pay for us to do that. And the fact that films are so democratic — for me, it was discovering [Martin] Scorsese and [Jim] Jarmusch movies in Indiana.[3]

The Blockbuster in your town had Jim Jarmusch movies? It was a Hollywood Video. We also had a Blockbuster and PJ’s Video. You just learn how films have a way of finding their audience. Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore was completely different from my life growing up, but finding it was so powerful. Making something that can affect someone like that is an amazing opportunity. And we’re not going to live forever, so we have to make the most of the time we have. I’m getting very saccharine, but you can’t take anything for granted. I don’t know, these big themes of life and death — feel free to jump in any time.

Okay, I know that acting in Silence, which was all about sacrifice and purpose, made you wonder about the larger point of being an actor. Right.

So how does thinking about your job in a holistic way like that affect how you go about it? I don’t know if I have a good answer to that.

I bet you do. That thinking you just described affects everything. Without sounding pretentious, which is impossible, I’m trying to mean it as much as I can. So I want to work with people who are taking things seriously. There’s a quote I stole from an interview with Thelma Schoonmaker. It’s something like, “Making a movie is like having to take a piss.” It’s so urgent. That’s how I feel.

Does acting need to be difficult in order for you to feel like it’s worthwhile? No. Some roles are more challenging than others. Silence, for example, was physically exhausting[4] but that’s what was required. I do like to work hard, though. I don’t know if that’s because I’m from the Midwest and was raised with “you work from nine-to-five and you come home exhausted.” But I don’t need work to be any more difficult than it needs to be. I’m always trying to find a way to work more economically. Can I ask you something?

Yep. Do you feel with writing that you overdo things or put a lot of work in you didn’t need? I always want to feel like I’ve exhausted every opportunity so that no question comes up while I’m working that I can’t answer.

I think what I do is a million times easier than what you do, but yeah, I try to make sure I’m as prepared and have as many cards to play as possible. Right, right, right. Also, this is another frustrating thing: You’re at a table read and you’re reading the script for the first time and in a way it’ll never be that good again. You weren’t thinking about it. You weren’t overanalyzing. You were just doing what was instinctual. I’ve been lucky to work on jobs that required me to trust my instincts and move on. [Steven] Soderbergh[5] is one of those people who will only give you one or two takes no matter how much you’ve prepared. Spike Lee[6] is another. Then you have Noah Baumbach[7], who’ll do 50 takes and that’s 50 opportunities to do the same scene in a completely different way.

You did an interview with Noah Baumbach where you talked about having to “rebel” when you get too comfortable with your work. What does that mean? It doesn’t mean not showing up to set or anything like that. But if Noah wants me to move over there [in a scene], I don’t want him or me to get too comfortable trusting that I will go over there. So if we’re doing a scene 40 or 50 times, I’ll need to do something to remind myself that it’s all supposed to be happening for the first time. Maybe I won’t go over there and I’ll completely fuck it up. I’ll have a little battle with him [Baumbach] to keep the scene on its toes.

Are you someone who thinks a lot about your own thoughts? You can probably tell from this conversation that I overthink the shit out of everything. I do try to be introspective but not to a point that it’s vain and I’m thinking me, me, me.

Let me tell you why my belly button is so interesting. [Laughs.] Yeah, what makes me tick? In life I have such a problem of wanting control, and between “action” and “take” is the only time when I have to think about just one thing. In that moment there’s nothing else, and so much of my life I spend thinking about myself or other people, life, death, what our point is in the world. So to not have to think — this discussion is getting too abstract. I’m also moved by straightforward things like the writing in Ordinary People[8]. You know that movie?

For sure. There’s this scene in the hallway when he [Timothy Hutton’s character] is like, “You took trig?” And she [Mary Tyler Moore’s character] goes, “Did I take trig?” It’s very beautiful. There’s also a scene where those two are outside and he’s trying to talk about Bucky, the brother who died, and she’s talking about something else and he starts barking like a dog. So there’s the formal structure of the script — the lines that are spoken — and then there’s something abstract, too. I want to make sure that I don’t shut myself off from that abstract thing.

You’ve been helping run a nonprofit for ten years. What are you doing better now with it than you used to? I didn’t used to feel comfortable fundraising. Like, “Yeah we’re interested in your mission but could you take a picture with my daughter? She’s a big Star Wars fan and if you do that I’ll give you $100,000.” No, I’m not going to take it. Is there nobody that is just philanthropic for the sake of it? Is there always some picture with your kid? I don’t want AITAF things to turn into Star Wars events. But then you say, “No,” and you’ve pissed somebody off. I don’t know that I ever handled that badly; I just took it too personally.

So now you say yes? I still say no. It has to be the right thing or it can feel disgusting. Some people are good with being like, “It feels uncomfortable but imagine what you can do with that money.” So I’m starting to get more comfortable with that idea because we’re raising money not only for a military nonprofit, but a performing arts nonprofit. It’s difficult. We’re not saying, “Give us $100 and it’ll go towards $100 of art.” We’re giving something that you can’t quantify.

You find that you can’t emotionally disassociate when you have to glad-hand? Even if you know it’s for a greater goal? I can see the advantage of going “What do I care?” but I’m not wired that way. This is an ongoing thing I’m trying to figure out. Sometimes I feel like I’m doing us [AITAF] a disservice, but I don’t want people to give us money for me. I want to cultivate donors that we’ll have a lasting relationship with. So it’s not just, “Give me a check and we’ll keep this as impersonal as possible.” I’m trying to make things meaningful. Do you know what I’m saying? I’m not quite explaining myself.

I get what you’re saying. Okay, good. I’m trying to say things to you here that I don’t normally say.

I know fame, and the subject of fame, is not your favorite thing. So how did that distaste factor into your decision to be in Star Wars? You had to know that’d kick things into a higher gear. No.

No? I was aware that more people would see it than see most things I do, but I don’t think I could have anticipated how often I’d get recognized because it’s so different for every person. I’m very tall and I look a certain way. I can’t blend into a crowd.

You’re fairly nondescript this morning. I look suspicious.

What’s interesting to you about playing Kylo Ren? That’s hard to say because we’re working toward something in particular with that character. I don’t want to give anything away.

It seems like it’d be fun to play around in that world. Yeah, the scale and size is interesting. Usually you work with people who are like, “Everybody save their cigarettes because we’ll need them for the rest of the movie.” But Star Wars has 4,000 people working on it. It’s an entirely different process.

Is there anything about your public persona that’s given you insight about yourself? Or made you think about yourself differently? What do you mean?

There are very few people in the world who can see the ways in which a large number of other people view them. But celebrities can. So does seeing what people pick up on — whether it’s being considered attractive or intense — incur any particular self-reflection? Being an “intense” actor[9], I don’t understand what that means. That I show up on set and glare at people? That before every scene I’m like, “I need to fire off a rocket really quick and then I’ll come back and act.” That I carry around cold cuts that I smash before every scene?

Do you? [Laughs.] Only on Paterson[10]. I don’t think of myself as an intense person. If what I’m doing is so abnormal that it’s intense — yeah, I have no idea. I’m not a method actor. I like to stay focused on set but it’s not because I have a process that I’m imposing on everybody else. Sometimes you have to be more focused in between scenes because what’s happening is that, on something like Star Wars, it’s pure comedy in between takes. It’s stormtroopers running into walls because they can’t see through their helmets. So I don’t know where the intense thing came from.

This has been a mostly serious conversation. So just to counterbalance a bit: What do you do for fun? What do I do for fun?

Assuming you have any. I’m so fun that I can’t think of anything. Clubbing. I go clubbing[11] .

Did I read somewhere that you play music? No, I don’t play music.

You don’t play an instrument? I play the piano, but it’s not …

It’s not for fun? [Laughs.] Yeah, not for fun. Work is sometimes fun. I mean, I have fun. What do I do for fun though?

It’s okay if you don’t have an answer. I have no fun.

One more question related to fame, and I mean this as nicely as possible: I could imagine that in high school you were maybe kind of gawky looking, and then to learn as an adult that you’ve become an internet sex symbol — did that have any bearing on your self-conception? I’m not aware of much of this. Social media, I don’t participate. I don’t have an opinion that it’s bad — or worse. You’re right that the existence of a public persona is an interesting thing, but I have no control over it so I don’t try to control it.

Some people try to control it. That’s not how I want to spend my time.

When did you know that you wanted to be an actor? And when did being an actor feel like something that could actually happen? In retrospect, I always wanted to be an actor. I did a play in my freshman year of high school and then tried to do theater throughout. The rule in our house was that I could do it if I got good grades. But being an actor didn’t seem like a realistic job to someone living in Mishawaka, Indiana. Juilliard was one of the only colleges I wanted to go to, and before I joined the military I auditioned. I liked that that school didn’t check grades and admission was based on your abilities. That doesn’t mean I thought good, I’m in.

It meant you thought you had a shot. Yeah. And then I didn’t get in and I put acting out of my mind. But it wasn’t until I was in the military that I was like, “I know what I want to do when I get out.”

Was there something that happened? I had a come-to-Jesus moment. There was a training accident with white phosphorous[12] where we very easily could have died. After that happened I thought, The two things I really want to do are smoke cigarettes and be an actor. And then it just so happened that I did wind up getting accepted [into Juilliard] and I was incredibly lucky to go from having not even a novice’s understanding of the acting world to suddenly having the best access.

Is a soldier who has been affected by the arts different than one who hasn’t? I think so. The Armed Forces has acronyms for acronyms but no language for expressing anything abstract. When you actually have that tool at your disposal, there’s such — I’m hesitating to say “cathartic” because that sounds pretentious, but there’s such power in being able to describe a feeling.

How does having that ability manifest itself in a soldier’s behavior? Speaking for myself, coming from the military and not talking about what we did and then suddenly encountering a play that described my experience was incredibly important — even though the play wasn’t about the military. And the military is a stressful environment. Having an emotional outlet is — I hate to say therapeutic because I don’t want to label what we do as therapy — but I just think it’s good. And it’s not as if everyone in the military only thinks about the military. It’s like, you’re a writer and on top of writing you have to deal with your kids and whatever else is going on in your life. It’s the same situation with the military, only people are also handling weapons. People are stressed out. Expressing that feeling somehow makes it less stressful.

Do you remember the first play that was cathartic for you in that way? True West was one of the plays that started it all for me: the idea of brotherhood, and how the characters are so different but bound by their brotherhood. I totally got that play. These answers I’ve been giving you are the worst. I’m listening to myself and thinking, What the fuck am I talking about?

Why do you keep saying that?! Your answers have all been fine. Anyway, this is probably overly broad, but I think that underneath a lot of what you’ve been talking about is the idea of integrity. Is the business you work in — show business, Hollywood, whatever you want to call it — a high-integrity one? How do I give you an answer without giving you a headline?

I don’t know. That was a joke.

I know. But I’m not bailing you out. No, you aren’t. I would say no, it isn’t high integrity. There are people in this business that have integrity and I’ve been lucky enough to work with a lot of them. But overall no, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of integrity. I’m not saying anything controversial with that. At the higher levels there’s interest in money, and wherever that appears, it affects people’s choices. But I try to work with people whose main interest is in making the thing we’re working on as good as possible.

How interested are you in the subject of masculinity? Was exploring that part of what made the military appealing? I don’t know if I was seeking that out — I guess so. When I was in high school I wasn’t an organized sports guy. A bunch of guys getting together doesn’t sound appealing to me. I never had the “hey bro, let’s all hang out” thing. I haven’t been asked about this subject a lot recently. When Girls came up I used to get these questions more.

Questions about masculinity? About modern masculinity and what it means.

Why do you think people were asking you that? Because I was playing a type of guy on that show. Maybe also because a lot of people thought that since Girls somehow represented a generation of women then that guy [Adam Sackler] also represented a generation. That’s not really an answer to your question. I have no insights on modern masculinity. I don’t think much about it. I see value in being emotionally available sometimes. I see value in getting angry sometimes. A sense of responsibility is a good thing to have. I don’t have a better answer than that.

Do the best directors[13] you’ve worked with have common ways of going about their job? They all know there’s no one right way to do anything. They’re constantly exploring or doing things wrong. The great thing about this work is that you you never truly figure anything out. It can always be better. It can always be more economical.

You’ve mentioned “economical” a couple times. Why is that quality important to you? I’ve had the experience at the end of a play’s run of wishing I could go back and start with what I’d learned from doing it for four months — instead of having wasted energy on things that didn’t work. If I can start from an economical, efficient place then the performance is going to be better.

Is there a role that you can look back at and think, I did that as well as I could? No. I try not to watch things that I do.

But you must have feelings about what worked and what didn’t. There are ones that felt good, but I wouldn’t necessarily say that made them better. And it’s not my job to feel good about what I’m doing. It’s the audience’s job to get an effect from what I do. I can feel anything I want. But I do remember one of the first theater jobs that I ever had, right out of school, was a play we did at the Rattlestick Theater called Slipping. I didn’t know anything and that was good.

Because not knowing anything meant you didn’t have any expectations? Yeah, exactly. I had no pressure. I was just doing what I’d gone to school for four years to do.

It’s a special feeling when you first get paid to do what you’ve always wanted to do. Yeah. It was a miracle to be making a living as an actor. Nothing else mattered. What I get to do, it still feels like a fucking miracle.

This interview has been edited and condensed from two conversations.

[1]Motivated by a sense of patriotism post-9/11 — and a desire to get out of his Indiana hometown — Driver enlisted in the Marine Corps. He served for just shy of three years before being medically discharged after breaking his sternum in a bicycle accident.

[2]Driver and his wife, actress Joanne Tucker (the two met at Juilliard), have been working hard at AITAF since they were students, bringing what Driver described to me as “the greatest hits of modern American theater” to soldiers all over the world. That means material by the likes of Sam Shepard, Stephen Adly Guirgis, August Wilson, etc.

[3]Driver was born to Nancy Wright and Joe Douglas Driver in San Diego, but raised in Mishawaka, Indiana (home to an AM General Hummer plant!). His stepfather was a Baptist minister. Despite that, by his own admission, Driver was a misfit growing up.

[4] For Martin Scorsese’s harrowing 2016 adaptation of the great Shūsaku Endō novel, Driver lost 50 pounds to play a Jesuit priest trying to clandestinely spread Christianity in 17th-century Japan.

[5]Driver gave a sly performance as a one-handed bar owner and Iraq War veteran (he stays on just the right side of caricature) in Soderbergh’s delightfully breezy 2017 heist movie Logan Lucky.

[6] Driver played police officer Flip Zimmerman in Spike Lee’s much-talked-about BlacKkKlansman. Just recently he earned a best actor nomination from the Gotham Independent Film Awards for his work in the film.

[7] Driver teamed with Baumbach for the director’s 2012 Greta Gerwig–showcase Frances Ha, as well as 2014’s modern comedy of manners While We’re Young. He’s especially funny in the latter, playing Jamie, an outwardly chill, inwardly opportunistic Brooklyn hipster.

[8]Robert Redford’s 1980 directorial debut starred Donald Sutherland, Mary Tyler Moore, and Timothy Hutton as a family coping with the aftermath of the accidental death of a son (Buck). Judd Hirsch played the therapist helping Hutton’s character through the trauma. I don’t get the sense that this movie is held up all that often these days as a classic, but it is, with uniformly strong performances.

[9] There’s a reason, after all, that SNL had Driver play Abraham H. Parnassus.

[10] Jim Jarmusch’s exquisitely subtle 2016 character study is a truly lovely film. In it, Driver plays the title character, a Paterson, New Jersey, bus driver who writes poetry in his spare time. Nothing much happens. In the best possible way.

[11] In case there’s any doubt, this is sarcasm.

[12] Here’s Driver describing the near-miss to NPR’s Terry Gross in 2015: “White phosphorus is … a highly acidic chemical … And the FO, the forward observer, the guy who’s alone, called in the wrong coordinates. And so artillery fired on us as opposed to what they were supposed to be firing, you know, miles away from us.”

[13] Given that Driver’s film career is still relatively young, the list of directors with whom he’s already worked is especially impressive: the Coen Brothers (Inside Llewyn Davis), Steven Spielberg (Lincoln), Jeff Nichols (Midnight Special), Terry Gilliam (The Man Who Killed Don Quixote), J.J. Abrams (Star Wars: The Force Awakens), and Rian Johnson (Star Wars: The Last Jedi). That’s in addition to Baumbach, Jarmusch, Lee, Scorsese, and Soderbergh.

#adam driver #interview #vulture #long post

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