#his baby version is so simple and nice to draw but his teen version- fuck its hard

[blindaysblogforturtles]

What the fuck. Why. Do not. Stop. (/pos btw- I’m talking about the lost blue au)

WAAAAAAAAH I'm so glad you like it! Mwah mwah anons asking me things make my day honestly. Here's some more art I made for the AU as a treat.

I miscalculated the use of my blank space and Mikey didn't fit with the others so I just drew him over Raph - Raph never minds it.

Also Mikey is the leader in this AU!

#rottmnt #lost blue au #rottmnt au #rottmnt separated au #separated leo au #save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #tmnt #drawing teen Donnie is so hard omfg #his baby version is so simple and nice to draw but his teen version- fuck its hard #leo is easier but I think surprisingly Raph is the easiest to draw #i love to draw him in little bows

[deiitaelric]

split up - part 4

PART 3 HERE

The young adult had more experience in cooking due to his age, so he checked the ingredients and decided on a dish himself. He started to work right immediately and kept Izuku working by his side to make sure he didn't leave a finger in the process. He started to command the other few students who went to help too, seventeen years old Katsuki included, who just wouldn’t stop complaining about being given orders. When dinner was ready, all class 3-A - plus added ones - had dinner together in small groups, the students still asking occasionally questions to their guests. 

Once he had his stomach full of delicious food, the kid reclined his exhausted body on Izuku. The greenette smiled tenderly and asked if he could pick him up, receiving a simple nod. Mini Kacchan made himself comfortable between his arms, resting his blonde head over Izuku’s shoulder. He started to fall asleep immediately even though Izuku was moving around picking up the table.

“So Bakugou-kun was this quiet, huh?” Uraraka let his eyes draw the kid factions.

“No really. I think he’s just exhausted. He had a tough day” Izuku rested his hips towards the counter, the duty finished.

“He kept looking at you all the time he was talking to us, like checking you were still there” She raised a hand and pocked one soft and round baby cheek, causing the kid to frown in his dreams.

“I’m the only one he knows here. I didn’t change that much so he recognized me at first sight”

“There are the others” The girl pointed toward the young adult and the two teens who were negotiating - or arguing about - something in a corner of the room.

“You know Kacchan, right?” Inquired Izuku, smiling with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’re right” She chuckled. “It’s cute seeing him being this openly affectionate with you, it’s unexpected but… right, you know? ”

“I know what you’re thinking” He dedicated a sad smile to the other three. “But Kacchan and I had these two past. The ‘friends’ past,” he caressed the kid’s hair making mini Kacchan to hug him tighter; “and the ‘no friends’ past” Izuku diverted his eyes back to the others, where the younger seemed to be losing his patience. Uraraka placed a comforting hand on Izuku's back and he smiled at her. “It’s okay. Is the past. We are good now and it seems like it would be even better”

She opened his mouth to say something but her eyes left him to look up right behind him. Izuku was about to turn when he felt a warm hand on the top of his head.

“Hey. Let me have him”

Izuku turned, which caused the warm hand to tousle his curls, his bangs entering in one eye. He looked up with the other eye, smiling even if he wouldn’t want to.

“Kacchan! I’m fine”

“Come on, you’ve been carrying him around for a while” The young adult tousled even more his curls but brushed the bangs away from his eye before grabbing the kid.

“Kacchan, you don’t have to, I can-”

“I know you’re strong enough to carry him, I just wanna help” The blonde settled the child on his chest and it moved something deep inside Izuku. It kinda suited him.

“Oh, well, then. Thank you, Kacchan” Izuku turned back and found Uraraka was gone. “Huh?”

“Should I put him on the couch? I think it’s late enough for him to sleep”

Izuku put his thumb between his lips, thinking about it. “He said he wanted to sleep with me so probably I should take him to my room. He said it himself so probably he’ll gone mad if I don’t take him with me”

“Yeah, he’s definitely gonna be mad if he wakes up in another place”

“I’ll take him to my room, then” Izuku made a move to grab the kid back but the young adult didn’t allow him to do so. “A-are you gonna carry him to my room?”

“This way, right?” Was all the blonde said before starting marching towards the elevator. Izuku left the room with a red glare following his flustered steps.

Izuku brushed the blonde hair away from the little face and covered him with the cover. He looked peaceful and Izuku kept looking at him until his company made a little noise. Turning, he found Older Kacchan looking at an All Might’ figurine. He smirked when his eyes met.

“You have one of these of Dynamight, you know?” Izuku held back a laugh. “Why are you laughing? I’m telling the truth” The blonde kept smirking, leaving the figurine right in place again. 

“I know”

“You’re not even a little surprised” He raised an eyebrow, not losing the smirk.

“Of course I’ll have Kacchan’s merch. I simp for the best”

“Oh? So you simp for me?” The young adult took a step, thinking it would derive one step back from Izuku. He smiled wider when it didn’t happen.

“I think you know already I’m a little bit of a fanboy”

“I still don’t get when you’ll gonna just broke under me or be full of this stubborn confidence”

“Broke un-under… Wh-what?” Izuku blushed hard, embarrassed for his own assumptions. “I-I think you should g-go to bed too, it’s getting late” The flustered boy opened the door only to find another blonde there. “Wha-chan!?”

“Fine! I’ll sleep at somebody else's” Katsuki proposed. Fuck Aizawa and his lazyness. How could two teens, a man and a little boy sleep in the same room with only one fucking bed? The kid had found himself a room to stay - fucking Deku’s -, but there were still three of them. He’ll do the same as the kid and the other two could kill each other if they wanted.

“Are you leaving me the trouble?” The young adult pointed at the teen with his head. Said teen started trembling out of annoyance.

“Go you to sleep  in somebody else’s room instead of me, then, like I fucking care”

“I’m sleeping in the fucking couch” Teen said, patience lost long ago.

“It’s all clear, then” Adult Katsuki concluded, leaving without another word. Original Katsuki found himself sighing. He would have to find himself a roommate for the night, and some spare blankets and so for his teen version. Heading towards the door, he could see how his oldest self was carrying the kid, dragging a flustered Deku behind.

When all the work was done, Katsuki cursed himself as he walked right towards Deku’s room. What was he doing, anyway? He didn’t know, and he really didn't expect what he found: a very red freckled face opening the door he was just about to knock.

“Wha-chan!?”

The nervousness of the greenette, seeing the twentyish blonde inside his room, twisted something deep down his chest. He just frowned deeply and pointed with an angry hand to his older self.

“You. Get out”

The young adult did so, but not without stopping one second to make sure Izuku knew he could count on him for anything and tousled his hair one more time. Then he started walking away, not looking back.

Katsuki stood there, thunderstruck, until Izuku’s eyes met his’.

“Is there... Anything you want?”

Katsuki just blurted the first thing he could think.

“You better take good care of the brat”

“Of course, Kacchan”

They shared a silence and Izuku moved his feet a little uncomfortable.

“Was he-?” Katsuki started, making Izuku frown.

“Kacchan, he’s nice, okay? Did you not see how he said goodbye?”

“That’s why, I didn’t- Nevermind. I just don’t like him”

“Huh? How can you not-?”

“He acts like he knows everything, like he knows me better, like he knows you better... I don’t like it”

“He’s you but with a few more years, it’s normal he knows you better than you do now. And who would know me better than Kacchan?” Izuku shrugged, smiling at him. 

“He’s not the only one who’s pissing me off, anyway. I can’t wait for them all to fucking leave”

“I guess it’s really weird having this other ‘you’ around, but it’ll only last a few days. And the kid is pretty nostalgic”

“Whatever” Katsuki rolled his eyes and shoved his hands inside his pockets.

“Do you wanna check on him? He’s sleeping in bed” Izuku moved over to let Katsuki take a look inside the room.

“It’s fine. Are you still up for practice tomorrow?”

“Of course”

“You would have to bring the brat, tho”

“I think he would like the idea, he told me he wanted to see how much you had improved his quirk”

“His quirk, huh?” Katsuki smirked while Izuku tried to fight a laugh without success.

“Yeah, he said it was his because he’s the youngest so he’s the original and all of you are just proyections of his future self”

“...that smart fucking brat”

“You always were”

“The fucking confidence” Katsuki bonked Izuku’s head as the latter laughed again, and then he turned around. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then”

“Good night, Kacchan”

“Night, nerd”

---

PART 5 HERE

#bakudeku #bkdk #bakudeku fic #bkdk fic

[hawaiian-has-moved]

you aren’t cannon. beetlebabes is more cannon than you. at least that shit was in the musical and movie and cartoon.

Need I remind you idiots, since I have already said I'm no longer being nice to you anymore.

That I do not give a damn what you think it looked like to you in that fucked up brain of yours, it's still p*dophilia. Man it's almost sad I live this rent free in your head for existing. I just exist and your blood boils. It's cute.

Anyway, Lydia is a minor in every version.

And if you think the wedding in the movie was romantic. Man every gross man I've cringed at for being a creepo must have been true love.

But see, that's the thing you people don't get huh? Consent. Consent does not exist to you. If it did you wouldn't fight when people say that Lydia is a minor and therefore cannot consent. It doesn't click because you found something hot about shipping this developing teen with this old as fuck perv.

But oh? Is that not enough for you, you cry, begging to justify your vile ship. Allow me to humor you and go through the other versions.

In fact! I'll analyze a whole song just for you.

Also please look at yet another picture of Lydia obviously not having it.

Way back when I was just ten

Simple and sweet

Everywhere, fellas would stare

Out on the street

And I felt used

Kinda confused

I would refuse to look in their eyes

But now I really love creepy old guys

This is kinda obvious, she's been preyed on before by men. So basic p*do trying to gr**m a kid scenario. But the satire to the song of course is that "it's all fine now" Which it's obviously not, she's just using this to trick him so they can send him back as an end goal.

We all do!

Gum disease

Skin like grilled cheese

Saggy old asses

(Saggy old asses)

Cute and vile

Hey baby, smile

To each girl that passes

They make me blush

(Can't get enough)

Now one of 'em loves me, wants to be mine

(That's right)

Marrying my own creepy old guy!

(I'm a creepy old guy)

This is just more playing out the satire of pretending it's okay, but with Beej chiming in because he already lacks the knowledge that this is grooming and it's not okay. Tricking him into thinking this is fine to end up killing him is a breeze.

My creepy old guy, my creepy old guy

I'm so happy I could cry

Girls may seem disgusted, but we're actually just shy

It's not uncommon that I've heard about or heard someone get told that they're just shy when a gross ass old man or someone is trying to gr**m a kid. It's gaslighting and manipulation in most cases. So for them to say that it's because they're actually just shy as part of the satire is the point.

My creepy old groom (creepy old groom)

Play that wedding tune

Hey folks, step aside

(I am older, but I'm glad I waited)

And if you've watched a bootleg, you would recall Barbara right here smiling and then turning away with eyes wide, like "this is not fucking okay" Kind of look on her face. But yeah this is another one of those phrases that you hear too often in these gross situations.

'Cause here comes the bride

I am marrying my creepy old guy

(Creepy old guy, creepy old guy, creepy old guy)

He's my creepy old guy

(Creepy old guy, creepy old guy, creepy old guy!)

Fix his hair

Get him prepared

For Armageddon

Again if you have seen a bootleg, here Lydia puts a finger to her lips and goes shhhh. Because Armageddon is Beejs death.

Sure, the groom

Crawled out of a tomb

But hey, hey, it's a wedding!

He's really fucking old guys. There is a huge age gap and this is p*dophilia.

So dim the lights

Pick up some rice

Say something nice

It's my day to shine

I'm getting hitched to my creepy old guy

(It's showtime)

Creepy old guy, creepy old guy

She's marrying a creepy old guy

Have you guys seen "Lolita"?

This is just like that, but fine

I have not seen Lolita, but I have been told it's similar to this who marriage scenario and is mega bad. Now if it were Lolita fashion, that is made to ward off men, so I assume it's a movie from what info I have.

Creepy old dude, creepy old dude

Our faith has been renewed

Now love is alive!

Wave your baby girl goodbye

I am walking down the aisle

I wanna see a tear in every eye as I pass by

I know that on the outside he's disgusting

And even on the inside, he's disgusting

This whole scenario is fucking vile. He's vile.

But I know that this time, I'm makin' it right

(Making it right, making it right!)

With my family by my side

O.M.G.

Dressed to a "T"

Fancy and formal

I found me a wife

L'chaim to life

This is so normal!

I was ignored

But now, I'm adored!

'Cause I extorted, tortured, and lied

Give it up for my underage bride!

They've done it, they have successfully tricked him into thinking this is okay with no funny business. But he's about to get stabbed. L'chaim to life is a nod at him being Jewish, also he had a Kippah in the DC version which backed this joke, but it fell off a lot ig so he doesn't have it now. Traditionally there was a lot of marrying women off to much older men for property and stuff, as most religions do/did tho. I was in a production of Fiddler on the roof for example and that was the whole premise.

Here comes the bride

Here comes the bride

God be glorified

I can't believe some cultures think this kind of thing's alright

My creepy old guy

My creepy old guy

Doesn't he deserve a chance at life?

Oh yeah, that's right

Yeah, that's right

So let's make him alive!

I am marrying my creepy old guy!

Guy, guy, guy, creepy old guy

Guy, guy, creepy old guy

Guy, guy

(I have chills)

Yeah!

And then they stab him and the till death do we part sign over the stage all makes sense now because the wedding vows are undone and since he's recently deceased he almost returns to the netherworld.

Etcetera etcetera... But of course you guys go tome deaf at that one when it plays if I remember right.

Oh right, the cartoon, of course, I knew just what you were thinking don't worry. You're thinking "oh well what about the comics, and the valentine cards! And and the animators who drew lewd stuff of Lydia!" Well.... Haha! Still p*dophilia! And also I have seen the infamous Lydia drawing and it's got her head shape, nose, lips, but it's not fully her. Even if it was again my first point, still p*dophilia. And yeah just because the people who worked on it drew it, doesn't make it suddenly okay. Ffs...

I couldn't even find a cartoon wedding that wasn't fan drawn to match this one. Because that doesn't exist! But I do have my favorite point to make.

Beetlejuice's look into Lydia's future in Pest O' the West.

Now why you b*bes were busy being p*dos and gr**ming kids on the internet into thinking this shit is okay, I was mastering the art of common fucking sense.

Beej makes a joking remark that he cannot see into the future while hiding from Bully the Crud, but when he does as per usual, his puns and phrases make his magic go to work. So a crystal ball appears in front of him showing the future in the images I've provided.

Lydia, doing a heaping pile of dishes as a ghost for bully and all of their kids, very unhappy and driven insane. Because imagine what being married to someone it's obviously wrong to be with would do to her mind. He hates seeing her like this, so he rushes to save her. Which he successfully does.

Toon is actually the one with canon evidence of this shit being not okay to him.

Also before anyone tries to say it, no the movie and cartoon aren't connected, she doesn't even live in Winter River in the cartoon that should have made it obvious. Besides she's like 14-16 in the movie. So I don't think she de-aged.

Lastly, two things that are off topic. I believe it's spelled canon, and before anyone goes saying fiction doesn't effect reality, I would like you to explain to me how being a Jedi is a official religion if that is so true.

See anon! I gave you my special, condescending talk that too two hours to type on my phone! You stalked me endlessly and I picked you as the special anon that, I didn't deletes ask for being a gross piece of shit in a minors ask box! Wow. That searching my name clicking on my asks, and typing out all that so I could live rent free in your head really.... Didn't work lol. I may have took two hours to type this, but I assure you I will forget about you in 2 days max. Because unlike you, I have better things to do than ship a minor with an ancient demon. Bye bye now, be sure to rant about me with pure rage to your house p*do friends so that my existence may spread further into other people's minds! Woo... Being famous is so tough. 😉

#bjrambles #ship discourse #discourse

[bubbyleh]

Do I Know You? - Chapter 7

read this chapter on ao3! check out the rest of this series on tumblr!

Chapter 7: Redacted Version An idea of the truth.

- ○ -

Getting to know your long-lost sibling around thirty-nine years after they disappeared is certainly something. It’s difficult sometimes for Kleiner to reconcile the adult sitting across from him with the baby he knew so long ago, but he’s trying! And though Bubby isn’t really one to offer up much in the way of personal anecdotes, even hearing the odd story from five years ago from Coomer is nice.

At first, Kleiner told himself he wouldn’t press. He had no starry-eyed, idealized notion of Black Mesa in his head. The facility was fucked up beyond measure, and the thought of Bubby growing up surrounded by that? It was one he wanted to shove into a trash can in his mind.

But Bubby didn’t seem to want to talk about it, and Kleiner wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

Slowly, though, that changed. The incidents were small initially, but Bubby began to open up slightly. Like how during one of their regular coffee meetings, Kleiner asked a bit about the conversation he’d overheard in Chemical Engineering.

“Oh, that,” Bubby grimaces. “That was Dr. Daniels. He’s been in charge of my project for as long as I can remember. He died not long after that night .”

“Good,” Kleiner says in response to that last fact, a statement that throws Bubby for a loop. They look unsure, avoiding Kleiner’s gaze for the briefest of moments and slouching forward. Suddenly, though, their eyes widen, and they sit right back up.

“Yeah, you’re right,” they finally say. “It is good.”

Bubby places their mug on the table, brow furrowing as they stare at the coffee, gently swishing. And something about it threatens to tear Kleiner’s heart apart. The wrongness of it all. Bubby shouldn’t have memories like that—of Dr. Daniels. They were supposed to grow up together, in a small house at the end of the street. Instead, they were in Kleiner’s admittedly cramped kitchen, trying to catch up on a lifetime of memories.

It’s unfair.

Kleiner takes a sip of his coffee.

“Bubby,” he manages to ask. “Have you ever thought about leaving Black Mesa?”

And Bubby frowns. “That’s… complicated.” They fiddle with the edge of their mug.

“How so?”

“Well,” Bubby sighs. “It’s not that I want to stay at Black Mesa, it’s more that… I don’t technically have a doctorate, you know. And I’m not qualified to do anything else. If I want a job, it’s gotta be here.”

Oh. Right. Actually, Kleiner hadn’t really thought about that, but it did make sense that Black Mesa wouldn’t be able to just hand Bubby a degree. Hell, it might actually be a bit of a warning sign if they could.

“But, also…” In the most simple of motions, Bubby smiles. “Harold’s here. You’re here, Isaac.” He brings his mug up to his mouth, but pauses to clarify, “You two are doing great work. I wouldn’t ask you to leave it, and I won’t leave either of you.”

Bubby’s clearly trying to keep their tone casual, but their words feel significant to Kleiner. They hold a weight to them; a promise.

- ○ -

The Hanukkah photo was the first step. It took a while, but the longer Bubby saw it and got used to it, the more he realized he was curious. The baby in that photo looks so happy to be with their brother, and it’s hard to imagine that that’s

him

. A little person whose family adored them. And maybe, if they see the rest of Kleiner’s photos, he’ll at least understand a bit about who that person could have been.

Isaac, of course, was thrilled by the prospect of sharing Bubby’s baby pictures. He’d promised to dig up as many as he could and bring them over, since Black Mesa’s singles dorms aren’t really great for receiving guests in. Once Harold had found out about the plan, though, he’d been eager to invite himself to the viewing. Actually, he’d been practically giddy about it.

Maybe they should be worried about that…

…

Oh this was a mistake.

Before they can really consider cancelling, though, there’s a knock at the door. And when Bubby opens the door to the sight of Kleiner holding a small cardboard box, it’s only then that he realizes that tonight is going to be extremely embarrassing.

- ○ -

“Oh, look at this one! He has to be less than an hour old, here!”

“My goodness, he’s adorable!”

Bubby has to resist every urge not to hide his red face behind his hands, because some poor part of his brain still really wants to see what he looked like as a baby. Unfortunately, Coomer does as well, and if they have to hear one more time about how they were the cutest thing to ever grace the planet, then they’re going to explode.

What’s even worse, though, is that Coomer brought out his own collection.

“You should see this one.” He slides a picture over to Kleiner. “They thought they were so cool!”

Bubby just barely catches a glance of a photo of himself when he was, what? Thirty-five? Thirty-six? Couldn’t have been too long after he started dating Coomer, actually.

“Wait a fucking second.” Bubby snatches the photo before Kleiner can get that good of a look. They do look younger, with a scowl on their face pointed somewhere offscreen. “I don’t remember you taking this.”

“Ah, well.” Finally, Coomer has the audacity to look at least a bit sheepish. “I made sure you weren’t looking.”

Bubby squints back down at the picture. “Why?”

“I thought you looked nice,” Coomer admits matter-of-factly.

And after a brief reprieve, Bubby’s flushed face returns in full force. This time, though, he draws his knees to his chest and buries his face in them.

“You two are killing me,” Bubby mumbles, holding the picture out for Isaac.

Kleiner plucks it from their hands. “You’re fine,” he insists.

“I will die, and it will be your fault.”

There’s a sound of papers shifting, followed by Kleiner muttering, “Hang on a moment…”

Bubby peeks out.

“I think that was it, actually,” Kleiner sighs. Almost instinctively, he reaches over and pats Bubby’s head, earning himself a glare. “You disappeared when you were around thirteen months. That’s not a lot of time…”

Kleiner’s eyes seem fixed on the photo of the newborn in his hand, though. He brushes it with his pointer finger, and in the back of Bubby’s mind, something clicks into place. They stand abruptly, much to their brother’s surprise.

“Fine,” Bubby states. “Give me a second.”

They loop around the couch, and after blindly fumbling under it for a moment, their hand finally finds purchase on what they were looking for. With a flourish, Bubby holds up their file, shaking off the dust that’s accumulated.

“Is that where you’ve been hiding that?” Coomer asks.

“Don’t worry, it’s getting a new hiding spot after tonight,” Bubby reveals. He settles back on the couch, clutching the file tightly. “Now, let me set the ground rules: This is a selective process, which means I reserve the right to withhold any picture I see fit.” He glares at the two of them. “No sneaking.”

Kleiner nods, and Coomer chimes in with “Understood!”

Bubby takes a deep breath before they open their file again. It’s been a while—a long while—since they last did, but everything is just as they left it. In fact, he thinks he might know where the first good picture is as he flips forwards slightly.

“Alright.” They undo the paperclip, slipping the photo to Kleiner. “This is me and Dr. Cynthia, one of the good ones. The notes say I was around fourteen months here.”

Dr. Cynthia had taken an immediate liking to Bubby, and judging by the picture, the feeling was mutual. She held him up to the camera with such a happy look on her face. Bubby’s struck with the thought that it was the first time in over a month that someone had loved him.

And Isaac has tears welling up in his eyes.

“No, shit,” Bubby struggles. “Don’t cry, fuck.” They pull Kleiner into a hug without really thinking.

Kleiner wipes away the few tears that escaped. “I’m fine, Bubby, seriously,” he says, but his voice sounds shaky. “It’s just… I didn’t get to see you grow up.”

Oh.

Crap.

“Okay, we don’t have to look at them anymore-” Bubby tries to put the file down.

“No wait!” Kleiner’s almost frantic as he grabs onto Bubby’s wrist. He takes a breath. “I want to see them.”

“You’re sure?”

Kleiner nods.

“Alright.” Bubby shakes his hand off them. “But we’re taking a break if you need it.”

- ○ -

Seeing the rest of Bubby’s childhood was certainly a mixed bag of emotions. They were such a cute little kid. There was a picture of them after they got their first pair of glasses, with a smile bright enough to light up a room. And then in their teenage years, their facial expressions gradually melted into “teen angst”. It was especially funny when Kleiner held up a picture of Bubby pouting when he was a baby, and they realized he was making the same face in both photographs.

Kleiner loved it, truly, but there was an underlying melancholy to it all. He should have seen this all himself. Bubby was taken away from their family, and for what?

That question sticks in their head. For what? Bubby’s clearly been skipping over large parts of their childhood, ignoring the bad parts and sharing the good. And that makes sense, of course, but…

Well, Kleiner read that first paper. Bubby was taken for augmentation and enhancement.

They did something to him.

“I’ll see you sometime next week,” Bubby promises as they see Kleiner out of their dorm. “Maybe we’ll do another dinner?”

“That would be nice,” Kleiner agrees. He’d stayed later than he meant to, but the trams would run for another hour or so. He has time for goodbyes.

“I’ll talk to you about it at work!” Harold calls from the seating area, where he’s still sorting the picture mess.

Bubby rolls their eyes, but they lean in, pulling Kleiner into another hug. “Thank you.”

Kleiner’s always happy about some genuine emotion from their sibling, but it’s a bit sudden. “Why are you thanking me?”

“I don’t know, really,” Bubby chuckles to himself. “Being my brother, I guess? Accepting me?”

“Like I wouldn’t welcome you back.” Kleiner returns the hug for a brief moment, before pulling back. “I’ll look at my schedule next week.”

Bubby waves his brother off. “Bye, Isaac.”

“Bye Bubby.”

And Isaac Kleiner decides. He is going to get his hands on that file.

#hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #hlvrai boomer #boomer #boomer content back :) #dr bubby #bubby #dr coomer #isaac kleiner #my writing #do i know you

[jbankai89]

Baby, It’s Cold Outside (Otayuri)

Title: Baby, It’s Cold Outside Author: JBankai89 Fandom: Yuri!!! On Ice Pairing: Yuri Plisetsky/Otabek Altin, Background Katsuki Yuuri/Viktor Nikiforov Rating: Teen Warnings: None Summary:  Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin have been friends for years. At Viktor and Yuuri’s wedding, what begins as a simple nighttime stroll changes their relationship into more than Yuri ever thought it could be. Notes: Christmas and Wedding Fluff. Enjoy :)  The single mention of temperature in this fic is Celsius, not Fahrenheit.

Baby, It's Cold Outside   

Yuri was going to kill Viktor and his Piggy.

Being Russian and as resistant to cold as a polar bear was one thing, but having an outdoor wedding in December in the Swiss Alps was just pain stupid.

Yuri sat in the front row, freezing his proverbial tail off in a white tuxedo, while Viktor and Yuuri stood under a crest of white roses that seemed to be dying before Yuri's very eyes in the -10 weather.

Yuri had to admit that despite the cold, it was a very pretty wedding. Viktor was in all white, Yuuri was in a black tuxedo, and Yuri and Phichit, as the respective best men, matched the two lovers at the altar almost perfectly.

At Yuri's side sat his friend Otabek, who was watching the ceremony with the same intensity in which he did everything else. He was dressed in an exact opposite to Yuri in black and violet, and he found himself impressed at how the colours seemed to suit him so well.

The ceremony, thankfully, was short. A walk down the aisle, vows, and rings. It was all a bit of a blur to Yuri, who had tuned a lot of it out. His focus had been mostly on not dying of hypothermia, and when a sudden cheer sounded from around him, Yuri realized that he'd accidentally missed the entire damn thing.

Yuri looked up quickly, just in time to see a bashfully smiling Yuuri and a broadly grinning Viktor step back from one another, although still arm in arm. Yuri applauded with the rest of the crowd, though privately he was doing it more to defrost his fingers, rather than any joy for the occasion. At the moment, he was too cold to care much about the happy couple.

If I ever get married, I'll get married in Hawai'i, fuck this snow shit... Yuri thought grumpily. Normally, he wasn't bothered much by cold, given his profession, but he'd drastically changed his mind after sitting out in the snow for an hour.

“Okay, everyone get inside to warm up!” Viktor called, and grinned at Yuri as he began to stand up and make for the ski lodge at their backs, “..except the best men and our families. It's picture time!”

Yuri was going to kill Viktor.

“I'll save you some sbiten,” Otabek murmured as he offered Yuri's shoulder a squeeze. “All the formal stuff is nearly done, then you can relax.”

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Yuri replied with a slight smirk, “you're the best friend ever. Yes, save me sbiten—with vodka, please.”

“Go on,” Otabek said with a slight nudge, “I'll be setting up my kit, but I'll make sure to get you something first, okay?”

Yuri nodded, and with the promise of a hot drink and food, he felt that he could suffer through his hypothermia for a few more minutes.

The pictures were torturous, as was virtually any scenario where Yuri was ask to smile for an extended period of time, then after the official pictures came Phichit's insistence for a number of selfies before finally—finally they were allowed to go inside.

The lodge was advertised as a ski lodge, but at the moment it was not unlike the post-Grand Prix banquets, with skaters everywhere as they intermingled with Yuuri and Viktor's extended family, all dancing, eating, and in general making a sizable dent in the vast amounts of champagne and vodka the couple had purchased for the evening.

Otabek was apart from the festivities, a pair of overlarge headphones on and off his ears as he fiddled with the knobs on a mixer, but upon seeing Yuri, he smiled and waved him over.

“Sbiten, as promised,” Otabek said when Yuri got to him, and handed him a glass mug filled with the steaming drink, and Yuri moaned as the scent of the mix of spices, lemon, honey, and alcohol hit his nose. It was hardly as good as his grandfather's recipe, this being some sort of fancy, high-end version, but it was still good and warming, like mulled wine or a hot toddy.

Yuri sat on the DJ bench to sip his drink and watch Otabek work. He knew that Otabek was more used to the active DJing for house parties or in clubs, and toning it down for a wedding—in particular for Yuuri's Okaasan and Otosan, and Viktor's Mat and Otets, who would not be used to music like that. As a result, aside from setting up playlists of alternating barfingly romantic and dancing songs, he didn't have tons to do. Yuri helped out where he could by fetching Otabek rounds of drinks and foods so that he didn't have to abandon his mixer (a few young cousins were eyeing them in a way that suggested that if they decided to walk away from it, they might decide to fuck with Otabek's equipment)

“I'm assuming this is the most boring set you've had in a while,” Yuri teased as Otabek plopped back down to watch Yuuri and Viktor, along with all the elderly couples dance to Wind Beneath my Wings.

“There's not much to do, but it's not that boring,” Otabek replied with a small shrug. “I always liked doing weddings, it's nice to see people expressing love for each other when the world these days is so cynical.”

“I guess that's one way of looking at it,” Yuri remarked as he popped a mini-quiche into his mouth. “But if I ever get married, it'll be nothing but Danzig and The Misfits.”

“Let me guess, and your first dance with your husband or wife will be to Skulls?” Otabek teased, and Yuri snorted.

“Definitely husband,” he said, “and yeah, that would be the plan. How'd you guess?”

“First, because I know you, second because it's the closest thing to a love song Danzig has ever written. Wasn't hard to figure out.”

“It's a little scary how well you know me sometimes,” Yuri remarked with a vague smile, one which Otabek returned, his eyes glimmering in the low lights of the hall. Yuri suddenly felt a little too warm, and picked up one of the beer bottles he'd brought over a little earlier, and hid behind it.

As the evening wound down and the older people began to trickle out, Phichit wandered over to them with a wide smile.

“Yuuri asked me to take over for a bit so that you can have a break,” he explained to Otabek, “he said you had a preset playlist thing, and I just need to make sure Viktor's cousins don't mess with your equipment.”

“Oh, praise Allah for thoughtful South Asians,” Otabek mumbled thankfully, though Yuri wasn't sure if Otabek said it loudly enough for Phichit to hear. “Yeah, it's all set up. I'm dying to stretch my legs.”

Before Yuri could say a word, Otabek grabbed his jacket, scarf and gloves, and held out a hand to Yuri.

“Come on, let's get a little breather from all this chaos.”

Yuri would hardly call the wedding reception chaos, but in the years of knowing Otabek, he had learnt that despite his preferred activities and profession, he was happiest when things were quiet. Yuri nodded a little and went with Otabek to the coat check by the doors for his own jacket and scarf before they headed out into the peaceful quiet of the night.

Now that Yuri was more appropriately dressed for the winter weather, he could appreciate the scenery much more. The lodge was settled in the middle of a forest, but the area they stood in was not densely wooded, and the night sky was clear, giving them a perfect view of the stars and full moon above.

The bright night sky made the hard-packed snow under their boots sparkle like diamonds, and aside from the low bass thrum coming from the lodge, it was peaceful and quiet.

“I wish I could have a cabin out in a place like this,” Otabek said suddenly, “no people, no cars, nothing  but me and the wilderness.”

“What about me?” Yuri teased, and Otabek cracked a small smile.

“Well, all right, you can come too.”

“We can be hermits, and only show up for our skate numbers, then it's back to the woods.”

“I like that idea,” Otabek replied with a small chuckle, and reached out to wrap an arm around Yuri's shoulders to give him a light squeeze. He retracted his arm not along after the quick physical show of affection, and stuffed his gloved hands in the pockets of his coat.

Yuri's shoulders felt warm where Otabek had touched him, and his Otabek-Only smile was twitching at the corners of his mouth. Something about the older skater always made him so happy, similar to the way he felt when he got to spend time with his grandfather, but different at the same time—very different.

I don't know what it is, Yuri thought as he rubbed his hands together to stave off the cold, he just always makes me feel comfortable and happy.

“Did you forget your gloves?” Otabek asked suddenly, drawing Yuri from his thoughts as he glanced from Otabek and down to his bare hands. They were a little pink at the knuckle from the cold, and he'd hardly noticed until Otabek had pointed it out.

“Erm, yeah, I'm always forgetting them, Grandpa keeps saying I'm lucky that I never get frostbite...” Yuri trailed off and watched Otabek curiously as he withdrew his hands from his pockets and peeled his left glove off before he handed it to Yuri. Yuri accepted it and tugged on the glove, leaving his right hand bare. He was on the cusp of throwing out a sarcastic remark about getting frostbite on only one hand when to his overwhelming shock, Otabek reached out and took Yuri's bare hand in his. Otabek threaded their fingers together intimately, and the action caused Yuri's face to flush a deep pink that had little to do with the cold. Otabek continued on with their walk as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.  

Yuri followed Otabek's lead, having no desire to tug his hand away, but at the same time he had no idea what this meant. He knew that they were close—Otabek was his best friend, after all, and they shared practically everything—but was there more to this? Otabek had never been overly touchy-feely, and now they were holding hands?

Yuri caught the side of his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes fell to their intertwined fingers. It was much warmer than the gloved hand.

“Otabek?” Yuri asked, and winced at how his voice escaped him sounding much smaller and childlike than he'd intended. Otabek slowed to a stop, turning to look at Yuri with an arched brow. “Um...I...” Yuri felt his face grow even warmer as he tried to form his thoughts into words that made sense. “What...what does this mean? Does it mean anything, or are you just being...” Yuri trailed off again, and he looked away from his friend.

“Would you like it to be something, Yura?” Otabek asked, his voice little more than a low purr as he shifted to stand directly in front of Yuri, their gloveless hands still intertwined, while Otabek's free one moved to cradle Yuri's chin and coax his gaze up. “Is this something, or would you like it to stop, right now?”

Yuri bit his lip again. His skin felt hot, less like they were out in sub-zero temperatures, and more like they were on a beach somewhere. Otabek's eyes were lidded, his breath came out in small, visible puffs, and his lips were shiny from whatever lip balm he had used.

Otabek had offered him an out, Yuri vaguely realized. He could say no, the spell would break, and their moment would end. They could go back to being just friends, and act like none of this had ever happened.

Or...it could be a beginning.

“No,” Yuri murmured, his breath escaping him in a tremble of excitement. “I don't want to stop.”

Otabek smiled. A warm, Yuri-Only smile that Yuri knew well. His arm dropped from Yuri's chin to wrap around his waist, and Otabek tugged him close. Yuri stumbled into the embrace, his breath catching, and he tried to push away his surprise as he slipped his free arm around Otabek's shoulders, unwilling to untangle the fingers of his other hand.

Their lips met, and it was like a thousand-thousand fireworks had gone off in his head. Otabek's lips were sticky from his lip balm, but not unpleasantly so. He was warm, and the small action of a kiss—his first kiss—was as comforting as a warm mug of tea and a blanket on a cold day.  

“Beka...” Yuri whispered, shivering a little as he went in for another kiss. Otabek's arm tightened around him, he dropping Yuri's hand to wrap his other arm around his waist as well, while Yuri moved to mirror him, his other arm linking around the older man's neck.

“C PoжДеством, Yura,” Otabek purred, and Yuri laughed softly.

“I thought you didn't celebrate Christmas?” Yuri asked in the same low, purring tone.

“I don't,” Otabek replied, “I think my apa and ata would be turning over in their graves if they heard me say that, but you do, so...”

Otabek's smile widened a little, and he leant in to kiss Yuri again.

“Then...C PoжДеством to you too, Beka,” Yuri said between kisses, and his new boyfriend chuckled warmly.

-Fin

A/N: “C PoжДеством” is supposed to say “Happy/Merry Christmas” in Russian, but the website I got it from wasn't super clear which it is XD and it's supposed to be pronounced (again according to the site) as 's rah-zh-dee-st-vohm'. Ata and apa are Kazakh for grandfather and grandmother, respectively.

If you like my work, please consider throwing a few bucks into my Digital Tip Jar. I am a starving artist, and I like not actually starving to death :P 

#otayuri #otayuri christmas

[amplesalty]

Day 1 - When a Stranger Calls (1979)

Stranger danger...

As signposted on Day 1 of the Christmas movie extravaganza of 2018, it’s one of the other big ‘weird phone calls, killer is in the house’ movies. We’ll roll it out today just for a nice little bit of symmetry. Did you know Black Christmas was getting another remake? I didn’t until just now. It feels like every time I pick a movie on here they’re getting remakes or sequels coming out shortly. With the rate of those that come out though, maybe this is a ‘broken clock is right twice a day’ kinda thing. It does have that 80’s dreamboat Cary Elwes in it though.

Unfortunately, bit of a dull one to start with. Well, the actual start of the movie is actually pretty good and seems to be widely liked but the rest, not so much. I’d say it’s a bit of an ‘Up’ situation but that would be doing Up a disservice. You get the idea though, people say that you could just take the start of Up, make it its own short film and it’d be a masterpiece. Apparently that’s what this was, a 1977 short film called The Sitter that was expanded out to be a feature length film.

Drawing the obvious comparisons between this and Black Christmas, this I’d say is more tense. I guess you could put that down to it just being the one girl, her being in unfamiliar surroundings since she’s babysitting and having that role of responsibility as well. There’s something more chilling as well with it being a British voice on the other end of the phone (always with the English baddies, Hollywood) and rather simple lines of ‘Have you checked the children?’ rather than all the weird sex noises and vulgarities. I mean, he does lower the tone towards the end by revealing he wants the girl’s blood all over him but he was keeping it in check for a while.

They really rattle through this movie as well at the start, just as soon as the opening credits are done she’s being ushered into the house and left by the parents. 5 minutes in, the phone calls start and by 20 minutes the girl is already being told to GET OUTTA THE HOUSE! Where do we go from here?

Nowhere fun, is the answer to that. The killer had already butchered the two children in the house by the time he started calling and was later committed to an asylum but escapes seven years later. This leads to the father hiring one of the attending detectives, now just a lone PI, to track the guy down.

This leads to a strange turn of events where it’s almost like the hunter has become the hunted, the killer now tracked through the seedier parts of town by the PI who isn’t in this just to bring him back to the asylum, he’s out to enact his own form of justice. Someone kinda beats him to it though when he ends up hassling a lady in a bar, leading to some of the worst worked punches I’ve ever seen in a movie. Bloody white knights.

I don’t know if they were intending to try and ilicit some sympathy for the killer throughout this. There’s this weird introspective moment in this homeless shelter where the killer is looking at himself in a mirror and has these flashbacks of himself at the scene of the killings and being locked up in a padded room before breaking down in a flood of tears. Doesn’t he have a look of Phil Collins here? Now that’s a film he should have done during his acting days.I don’t know if Phil has ever been able to rock a fringe like that though, seems to have had a massive widows peak going on his entire life that guy.

Actor Tony Beckley does pull of that whole loner, creeper vibe. He was terminally ill at the time of production, I suppose there is a sickly look to him but I just put that down to the general disheveled look of the character.

Towards the end of the film we get a sudden shift from the dark and gritty city streets to pleasant, suburban family life as we find that the babysitter is all grown up and has a family of her own now. Oh no, we know where this is going. Why, she too is going out to a restaurant with her husband and has left her two kids under the supervision of a young babysitter. What a coincidence! And at that restaurant she gets a call she assumes is the babysitter but is actually a man asking if she’s checked on the children.

Now maybe I missed something along the way but I call absolute bullshit on this. Granted it does lead to something of vague interest, something that had been sorely lacking since the opening twenty minutes, but apparently this killer has kept some intention to finish off what he started those seven years ago, track her down, find her house and find the restaurant she’s going to be at so he can call it? How? There’s mention of a newspaper article on her so maybe he spotted her in that and that rekindled his urges to kill her? Still, how did he find the rest of the information? Unless this was all just blind luck?

I thought the movie was going to end there, fading out on her realizing who was on the other end of the phone, screaming as we faded to credits but no, we get a whole protracted ending of the cops watching the house, only for the killer to sneak in anyway and nearly get her until the PI comes in to save the day. Maybe it would have been a bit cliché but I think the sudden ending would have been better.

As I mentioned in my Black Christmas post, the story of the baby sitter and the man upstairs seems to trace back to an unsolved murder back in the 50’s. Just reading about this stuff is perhaps more interesting than the movie itself. Invariably all these stories seem to come back to promoting abstinence, like when the teen lovers get creeped out by a news story of an escaped mental patient with a hook for a hand stalking the local make out spot so they head home early, only to find his hook in the door handle when they get home. And as Jamie Kennedy told us in Scream, sex equals death. There’s maybe an element of that here too, look at the dangers you could get into if you have kids. Are you prepared to look after them? And we all know how we get kids…it’s the stork, right?

There was an interesting point that I’d not considered before on this that I heard recently on a podcast dealing with urban legends. It’s not about scaring kids away from sex and having kids of their own, it’s an anti-feminist message that seeks to put women ‘back in their place’. Do you really want to be independent and go to work? You’re being negligent by leaving your kids in the hands of some stranger. Better to stay home and be a nice little housewife.

As I’ve also mentioned previously, this movie had a remake back in 2006 and apparently they shed the tracking down the killer plot and just stick to the baby sitter opening. That’s fine, I guess, but how do you drag that out for an hour and a half? There was also a made-for-TV sequel in the early 90’s called When a Stranger Calls Back. I guess that’s about a different killer though because I don’t know how this one is going to call back, he’s fucking dead!

When it comes to this movie though, maybe look up the short film version or just watch the first 20 minutes of this. You might be a little distracted like I was at times though. As part of the soundtrack they have a habit of playing what is pretty much that THX sound effect. It’s not something I’ve had first hand experience with but from what I’ve seen in pop culture, it’s something they’d play before movies, I guess it’s something to do with the sound? To hear it here though, It’s really weird.

#Halloween 2019 #When a Stranger Calls

[complexmagrparchive]

                       EVIL IS WHATEVER DISTRACTS

NAME › Natalie Eunseo Howard/ Natalie Kim   D.O.B. › 08 17 1991 (25) OCCUPATION › Freelance Photographer/ Receptionist INSTA › @dysofbngwld​

content warning: alcoholism

PORTFOLIO

( Basically her style is based on JDZ Chung’s work so in no way am I claiming credit for any of the work but that’s who the actual photographer of these pieces are.)

Portrait A, for Dazed Korea

Portrait B, for Complex

Portrait C, for personal portfolio

Landscape A, for personal portfolio

Portrait D, for unreleased photobook

Portrait E and Portrait F, for Complex

Portrait G and Portrait H, for Nylon Korea

DETAILS

born to an american soldier and a young korean woman in busan.

father leaves the family, is never heard from again.

mother remarries, gives birth to siblings. natalie gets lost in the mix.

gets into art high school in seoul for drawing, stands out little among peers.

drinks for the first time as a teenager, likes it more than she should.

takes photography up as a hobby, posts to blog and slowly gains notoriety.

gets into hongik, continues to not stand out among peers, drinks more.

begins freelancing as a photographer, drops out of college.

spends too much time drinking/partying and not enough time working. sets foundation to ruin her own life.

comes to the realization that she’s probably ruining her life with destructive behavior.

A guy tells her about a condensed version of the twelve step plan, for new year’s she tells herself she’ll give it a try.

Step one; admitting that one cannot control one’s alcoholism, addiction or compulsion.

“Hi, my name is Natalie and I’m an alcoholic.”

The group greets her back as a collective, and it’s only when she looks around the room desperately searching for kind eyes to connect with that she realizes she’s the only person under thirty in the room.

Alcoholism, she notes, is not an issue faced by the average 25 year old.

“I like drinking because it makes me feel invincible, and I don’t get that when I’m sober.”

There’s the distinct throb of her own heartbeat that drowns out any noise. The group claps and Natalie takes her seat but her heart echoes too loudly in her ears and she can’t begin to focus on the next person speaking or anything that happens during the intermission.

She only knows two things for sure: she’d kill for a drink right now, and she’s never coming back to this circle of fucking losers.

Step two; recognizing a higher power that can give strength.

JESUS LOVES YOU!

It’s a gaudy sort of flier, with the words written in bubbly rainbow and a teenage girl all but shoves it in her hands as she tries to make her way past the ensuing crowd of forceful christian teens trying to spread the good word in some shit-stain sidewalk in Hongdae.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in him should not perish but have everlasting life” The rest of the flier reads, and it’s enough to make her laugh.

For God so loved Jesus he sacrificed him for the sake of the ungrateful humans who turned their backs on his majesty.

For God so loved Natalie he had her father abandon her physically, and her mother emotionally.

For God so loved Natalie he gave her younger half-siblings more wonderful than she could ever be and a group of friends with more talent than she could ever hope for

For God so loved Natalie he made her a jealous, insecure woman who self-destructs the moment anything remotely good begins to happen.

God doesn’t make mistakes, and the bible says he loves her as much as he benevolently loves anyone else. But Natalie’s ready and willing to call bullshit.

The flier crumples up in tight pale fists and she chucks it into the street, praying a puddle destroys it before God’s love has a chance to ruin someone else’s day.

Step three; examining past errors with the help of a sponsor (experienced member).

“Do you think I’m a fuck up?”

Phone cradled between her shoulder and her face she swears she can hear the hesitation in his breath as he sighs loudly into her ear.

“This is really what you want to talk to me about at 3 a.m.? Shouldn’t you be editing photos right now, not indulging in an existential crisis?”

His voice is still rough and raspy, and Natalie is sure that before she called he was nearing his REM cycle and dreaming about something wholly more pleasant than spending the wee hours of the morning talking to a girl with a lack of boundaries or consideration for others.

“I’m editing the photos right now. But I started thinking about it and I got curious.”

He sighs again, more softly.

“Natalie go to sleep. The photos can wait, you’re ahead of the deadline this time. Hang up your phone, put the wine bottle away, turn off your laptop, and go to sleep. Don’t worry about stupid shit this late at night, you’ll only stress yourself out.”

“I’m not drinking.”

“Really? Well good for you. Now go the fuck to sleep.”

It’s her turn to sigh.

He’s too damned nice and she hates him for it. Maybe that’s why they could never work out romantically, maybe that’s why they barely work out platonically. He’s beating around the bush avoiding the ugly truth that they’re both very much aware of.

“I’ll hang up after you answer my question.”

The line goes dead for a moment, and it’s only the steady subtle sound of his breath that makes her realize he’s still there

“I don’t think you’re a fuck up— ”

“ —Bullshit.”

“Shut up and let me finish for once. I don’t think you’re a fuck up. Do I think you’re a person who fucks up a lot? Yeah, anyone with eyes can see that. But do I think you’re a fuck up? No. You’re just some girl who’s kind of selfish and likes to make herself suffer and cut herself off from people who care about her. You’re also a girl who doesn’t respect my sleep schedule, but no I don’t think you’re a fuck up. Now will you let me go to sleep.”

The total honesty of it shocks her. Granted, it’s what she asked for (what she craves), but the reality of it catches her off guard.

“Okay.”

Her voice is small and timid and suddenly she can’t seem to be bothered about the pictures staring back at her from her computer screen anymore.

“You’re not a fuck up, you’re just a person who needs some work. Don’t get yourself so down, just go to bed and don’t forget to send me those pictures sometime tomorrow. Good night.”

The line goes dead before Natalie can muster a reply.

Step four; making amends for these errors.

After a decade, her mother’s house is more or less the same.

The same family portrait of three handsome children paired with two proud parents and an awkward gawky girl standing alongside adorns the living room wall. The same cream colored couch with hard, uninviting immaculately clean cushions. The same god forsaken coffee table whose corners only serve to gouge and bruise Natalie’s skin.

She’s been gone from Busan for ten years, and yet nothing’s changed; her mother’s kept a time capsule all of these years.

“What’s this?”

The satoori that her mother spits out so incredulously sounds all too familiar and all too foreign in the same breath. They talk every now and again on the phone, but the power of her mother’s accent gets lost in the distance. In person it’s powerful and a glaring reminder of how far from a Seoul-girl Natalie really is.

“It’s money, Mom. I got a second job because I wanted to pay you and your husband back.”

The envelope sits on that damned contraption of a coffee table untouched, but Natalie can’t miss the way her mother’s eyebrow perks up in disinterest and the way her lips purse. It’s an expected gift,  unwarranted as it is. Her mother spent fifteen long years raising her and another ten sending monetary support to encourage reckless habits. It’s the least Natalie can do even if her mother isn’t interested.

“I’m making japchae for dinner. Your father and your brothers will be home soon, why don’t you stay for dinner. It’d be nice to have a full family dinner for once.”

In the reflection of the coffee table, she can see that fucking family portrait she’s spent years forgetting existed. Her mother sits on a chair and smiles brightly, with a cherubic looking baby sitting on her lap. Her mother’s husband stands behind the chair, one hand resting on the wicker, the other resting on his young son’s shoulder. Another boy stands to the side with the same twinkle in his eyes as the older boy and the beautiful baby. Then, off to the side, stands Natalie in all of her awkward gawky teenaged glory. Her features don’t match up with the children who mirror each other so well. Her forehead is too wide, her ears stick out too much, a face too exotic to fit perfectly amongst a family so proudly and obviously Korean.

She’d like to rip that potrait off the wall and smash it into the ugly table her mother adores so much.

“Can’t stay. I gotta catch a train back to Seoul today, I’ve got work later tonight.”

If she doesn’t look, she’s sure she’ll be able to avoid the guilt that undoubtedly will attack her if she meets her mother’s gaze.

“Okay then. Call me when you get to Seoul and let me know you got there okay.”

She’s out the door before her mother can dare say anything more.

The guilt finds her in the end anyways.

Step five; learning to live a new life with a new code of behavior

Knees caked in dirt and gloves now soiled, she can almost understand the appeal old women find in maintaining a lovely little garden. Her roses are starting to bloom well, and the lavender look nice in it’s lonely little corner. It’s a patrician hobby;  for those with enough money to afford the time to spend tending to pretty little flowers and enjoying the simple pleasures of life.

The sun bears down too hot on pale shoulders, and Natalie can’t help but sigh at the way her knees ache when she pushes herself up as she assess her work. It’s nice, but not nearly enough. If she works hard, by mid August the rooftop might look like the secret garden she’s got in her mind.

Her phone starts to ring the second she pulls her clammy hands out from their lycra and leather prison. Temptation has impeccable timing.

“Natty! Where are you, baby girl? I miss your crazy ass!” the voice on the other end clings to every syllable and there’s a familiar itch in the back of Natalie’s throat suddenly.

“Right now I’m on my rooftop putting away gardening tools.”

Laughter on the other end rings somewhere in between bemused and condescending in Natalie’s ear and she tries not to notice the way her fingers clench into a fist as her nails dig into the rough material of her gloves.

“What the fuck. Did you magically turn into an eighty year old while I was gone?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Okay well Miss Howl’s Moving Castle, come turn into a beautiful young girl again and come to my birthday party tonight. I know you couldn’t possibly forget.”

Her teeth clench tightly, and critical eyes begin to assess the garden again. The lavender looks to far off and lonely in the corner, she thinks she ought to plant some celosia nearby.

“I don’t know. I’m kind of busy.”

“Oh boo, I’ll be so sad if you don’t come. Don’t ruin my birthday Natty, I won’t forgive you if you do. It’s at that one club in Itaewon, our favorite one.”

“I’ll uh think about it.”

“Good.”

The line goes dead before she has a chance to give another half assed denial. Slipping her gloves back on she makes her way over to the corner of lavender. Another couple of hours in the garden won’t kill her, and neither will one night in Itaewon.

She’ll make one last great hurrah about it.

#cx:accepted #kiko mizuhara