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recycledmoviecostumes · 3 years

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Goodness do I have a treat for all of you today. Larry McQueen, owner of The Collection has sent me a lovely sighting filled with detailed information. Because the detail is frankly incredible, I decided not to edit it and present Larry’s notes in full below:

In 1936, Travis Banton, head designer at Paramount Studios, began work on the last film he would design for his favorite clotheshorse, Marlene Dietrich. The duo had worked closely together on all her films at Paramount and created the “Dietrich style”-- a look of lavish, smoldering, hard-edged sophistication that was instrumental in creating the Dietrich legend.

Dietrich had one final film to complete her contract at Paramount and was cast in a typical Dietrich vehicle Angel, a sophisticated Lubitsch melodrama with her in the role of an ignored wife of means who has an affair with her husband’s friend. Banton designed the most opulent dress he had ever created for the star for the under-five-minute opera sequence and preceding scenes in the film. The ensemble was to become known as the “Faberge” gown and consisted of a fitted long-sleeve bodice with peplum, a matching long skirt with train and a six foot stole bordered with sable. The fabric was solidly embroidered with gold beads, pearls, rhinestones, gold bullion, gold sequins and faux ruby and emerald stones in geometric designs. According to W. Robert Levine in his book “In A Glamorous Fashion,” the costume was cost-listed on the wardrobe records at $8,000.00, an exorbitant price in the post-depression era and a price that would be over $100,000.00 by today’s standards. The expense must have caused stirrings in Paramount’s upper management in a time when the government was asking the studios to scale back the unnecessary lavishness in costume design. Banton himself once said it was the most expensive gown he had ever designed.

The ensemble is given credit in many film costume books as the most spectacular gown ever created. Diana Vreeland, one-time curator at the Metropolitan Museum of Art said of the costume in the book “Hollywood Costume– Glamour! Glitter! Romance!” “When I think of detail, I think of Travis Banton’s marvelous beaded dress for Marlene Dietrich in Angel—like a million grains of golden caviar. That is one of the most beautiful dresses ever…”. Margaret J. Bailey in her book Those Glorious Glamour Years describes the dress “It was simple in lines, of Persian design, and looked like a piece of woven jewelry…” and “… caused no little trauma on the set when producers refused to give it to Dietrich for her private wardrobe.”

Dietrich had loved the gown and asked the studio if she could keep it. It is said she was so angry of being refused by the company she help save, she stormed off the set. The incident no doubt added to her disharmonious departure from the studio. She left the studio and did not return until a decade later. Acquiring gowns and props from her films- by whatever means- was a general practice of Ms. Dietrich. After her death, The German Film Archive Foundation (die Stiftung Deutsche Kinemathek) and The Berlin Film Museum acquired her estate in 1993, which consisted of five different storehouses in Europe and the USA. In the collection were thousands of items from her career including fifty of her most famous film gowns. Her daughter, Maria Riva, once told the curator of the Frankfurt Film Museum, her mother was always in constant fear the studios would someday try to take back her collection and had kept the fact of its existence well hidden.

Paramount, however, retained the piece and began to put it to use. Re-using costumes was a common practice by studios to maintain an opulent look to secondary and background characters without the expense of making new ones. It is unknown exactly how many films the Dietrich gown was used in, but from photos found, it is obvious it was put to work and went through many transformations in the process. Mary Astor wore it, without the stole on the set of Midnight, 1939. The front was reworked and worn by Rose Hobart in the film A Night at Earl Carrolls, 1940. It was used in publicity photos as in that of Loraine Day circa 1944. With the sleeves removed, the stole without the fur was added to the front of the bodice as draping, it was worn by Felicia Atkins in The Errand Boy, 1961. The stole was cut in half to be used as a turban and worn with a sleeveless altered bodice by a model in A New Kind of Love, 1963. In 1974, the bodice was put back together and used by Diana Vreeland in the MET exhibition of films fashion and in 1985, the gown and stole was returned to its original configuration and worn by Barbara Hershey in the TV movie My Wicked Wicked Ways.

With all the different uses, the pieces took a beating. Many of the “re-workings” were fast and crude and some of the attempts to repair the gown involved covering damaged areas with large gold sequins. One previous ‘restoration’ involved applying glue to areas and pushing the beads back together and letting it harden. The fine chiffon backing was weak and starting to split and the patterns were separating. The costume was so fragile, it could never be worn again, but it is amazing the pieces stayed together.

In December of 1990, Paramount put the gown up for auction at Christies New York as part a larger collection of ‘star wardrobe.’ Larry McQueen and his late business partner, Bill Thomas, who were respected experts in the field of film costumes and had compiled one of the finest collections of the medium under the name “The Collection,” were retained to help inventory, authenticate and price the collection and were overwhelmed to see, what they believed to be, the most exquisite film costume ever created. They were successful in purchasing it for a total cost of approximately $23,000.00, one of the highest prices at the auction. As excited as they were to own the gown, the reality of its condition soon set in. Due to the age of the garment, poor storage and multiple alterations, it could never be dressed on a mannequin because it would not support its own extreme weight.

In 1999, four years after Bill Thomas died, Larry McQueen began the process of restoring the costume. Museum experts in preservation and restoration were consulted and much debate occurred as to whether the integrity of the gown- however poor that integrity was- should be tampered with. It was finally decided by Mr. McQueen that instead of leaving it as it was- a box of un-showable beads- the ensemble should be restored. Getson/Eastern Embroidery, who was then owned by Annie Dernderian, was approached with working on the gown. The firm had worked on the original costume and luckily had many of the beads, sequins and stones used on the original construction.

But, restoration of the garment proved far more difficult than planned. Even though the gown had only taken weeks to create, it would take years to restore. Every inch of the beadwork would have to be attached to new chiffon backing and the patterns pulled into shape and lightly tacked. Then the patterns had to be permanently hand stitched, replacing any missing stones or beads. Previous poor repairs would have to be removed. Missing areas or areas that had been glued would have to be replaced. Many of the original silk threads that attached the beads were breaking and would have to be reinforced with new silk thread. The stole, which had been cut in half and then stacked on top of its self and re-sewn, had to be taken apart, attached to a new backing and the beading attached and corrected. Photographs of Dietrich wearing the costume were enlarged to determine what was an original pattern and what had been changed. Luckily, the patterns did repeat themselves, so where a pattern was missing, a template of an existing pattern was made to re-create the missing one. The task would involve going inch by inch and would involve thousands of hours and great expense. But, determined to see the gown restored, Larry McQueen had the work begun.

The gown could not be taken apart and beaded flat as it was originally constructed, so a special frame with a sling had to be constructed to allow access to the inside of the garment to work from the front and the back of the fabric. Beads and sequins that had to be removed were sorted and reattached in to same location if possible. Only a four-inch area could be worked on at one time and each area was photographed before and after to document the work done. The project was daunting.

The entire fabric of the costume is composed of repeating geometric shapes somewhat like a paisley pattern. Each shape is outlined with small pearls or faceted rhinestones. Beads, pearls or sequins in different combinations fill the center portions of the design. Throughout, are patterns that contain a small grid work of bullion threading and each square filled with small pearls, sequins or a combination of sequins and gold beads. The background is of solid gold rocaille beads and the gown is sporadically studded with emerald and red glass beads. Literally millions of beads were used to create the fabric of the ensemble.

After one year, only the bodice was approaching completion, most of the work done by Annie Denderian. But the expense was mounting and it was becoming impossible to find qualified people who had the patience and time to spend on the garment. Mr. McQueen decided that if the costume was to be completed, he would have to take over the bulk of the hands-on restoration. Having the background and more importantly the motivation to see the gown completed, he was mentored by Ms. Denderian, learning and perfecting the techniques to painstakingly re-attach the patterns and began work on the dress. Almost one year to the date of beginning the work- working faithfully five to eight hours a day- the skirt and the stole were completed. To add strength, bias tape reinforcing and a new silk chiffon lining was added by the costume house of John David Ridge and the stole was re-bordered by using existing sable by Judith Moss at LA Fur Center.

McQueen stated that he probably would have reconsidered restoring the gown had he know the time, patience and expense it was going to take, but then quickly adds that he would have done it anyway. It was just too important. In working that closely with the piece, McQueen was amazed how in touch you get with the people who originally created the garment (a process difficult to understand unless you have restored someone else’s creation). You could tell when someone was having a bad day and cutting corners. You could tell when someone was struck with genius. You could see the differences in workmanship and technique between the various beaders. You could see the time spent on details in areas that no one would ever see. You become very close to the garment and understand it.

The gown is truly a testament to the artistry of early Hollywood. Mr. McQueen is confident the care, attention and over 3000 hours spent in its restoration would make its original creators proud. He hopes that if he leaves any legacy to the field of film costumes, one of his main accomplishments will be the “Faberge gown” survives in the splendor it was originally created and will be shown and appreciated for generations to come.

Costume Credit: Photos, copy and all the above incredible info provided by The Collection of Motion Picture Costume Design: Larry McQueen

E-mail Submissions: [email protected]

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Note: If you’ve not checked out Larry McQueen’s The Collection, I highly suggest you do so. It’s incredible!

#Marlene Dietrich #travis banton #mary astor #larry mcqueen #the collection #costume drama #costumes #period drama #fallen angel #midnight #a new kind of love #the errand boy #my wicked wicked ways

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some-kindofgnome · 3 years

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for auld lang syne

“And then I woke up in the hospital alone, and I saw the doctor alone and took a taxi home alone. I went to physical therapy alone and saw my counsellor alone. Whatever you thought, Katsuki, whatever you believed made me spend six months staring at my phone and thinking I’d ruined everything.”

It’s time for your agency’s extravagant New Years’ Eve party. But after a little sabbatical, there are some things you’re not ready to come back to.

characters: katsuki bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.2k

warnings: smut (18+ please!) aged-up characters, pro hero!bakugou and pro hero!reader, mentions of injury, near-death experiences and gunshots, smoking, drinking, angst with a (filthy) happy ending, me being a whore for glamorous new years’ parties

notes: This fic has been dragging me across the coals since Christmas- I could not get it out of my head, despite how much work I knew it would be to get it out on time. Still, it feels supremely worth it. I have a metric ton of love to give to @hoe-doroki for beta-ing this mammoth on such short notice (I dumped it in her lap at 4am) because she really helped me whip it into shape. As always. 💖

Happy New Year, everyone.

(MASTERLIST)

“Won’t be long now.”

Anxiety bleeds into the already-nervous voice of your driver, muffled by the plexiglass divider that separates you. You’ve been sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic for the past four red lights, barely inching toward the intersection with every green.

You’re well past fashionably late at this point. You’re sure that the commissioned driver’s fearing for his job at this point, knowing exactly how long ago you were supposed to have arrived at your own party.

But you couldn’t care less. The longer it takes you to get there, the better. The vodka you’d downed neat, standing over the bar cart in your polished apartment, sours in the pit of your stomach. And the fact that your outfit barely allows a spare breath isn’t exactly cooling your nerves, either.

You’re draped over the door, resting one elbow on its edge to cushion your jaw as you lay your forehead against the chilly glass. Outside, the crowded traffic casts a golden warmth over the bluish urban night, betraying the slow swirl of fluffy snowflakes that drift lazily into the street.

Tonight has all the makings for an ideal, albeit bitterly cold, New Year’s Eve. But if it were up to you, you’d be watching all the wonder unfold from the comfort of your own bed.

You’ve been away long enough, though, says your agent. It’s time, says your manager. You stay away from the spotlight for too long and we’re going to forget about you, says the Internet.

The glittering gold fabric your stylist presented you with would’ve swelled your heart on any other occasion. He knows your taste to the button. And after breaking into exhausted sobs at your first fitting together, you’d been able to tell him that the outfit was perfect.

At long last, the glossy windows of your agency loom outside. You push the backseat door open before your driver can even kill the engine, stepping out as gracefully as you can muster and pulling the folds of your designer coat demurely closed around your glamorous party clothes. You’re greeted by swaths of flashbulbs and determined shouts of your hero name, and suddenly the practiced gracious smile that you’ve always saved for the cameras is stretching your lips one more time.

You used to love something about this. But you’ve almost never had to face it alone.

Inside, the party’s taken off without you. Your coat’s taken before you can even see who’s hands are slipping it deftly off your shoulders, but by the time you’re ushered into the elevator and sent all the way to the top floor, you’re already sweating with the anticipation of all that’s waiting for you.

The doors open to a rush of guests, each noticing you simultaneously and pushing in to greet you.

Arriving late does absolutely nothing to dissolve the grandness of your entrance. Your attention is immediately pulled in a handful of different directions as celebrities and dignitaries and politicians shake your hands and congratulate you. People you’ve never met are telling you how good it is to see you on your feet again and, despite the overwhelming distractions, you can’t stop searching the crowd.

You don’t want to let yourself search for somebody in particular, but you spot him long before your shame catches up with you.

It’s not a glimpse of his mussed hair you catch, bobbing through the crowd. Nor is it a slip of the edge of his suit, the most devastating shade of midnight blue you could have possibly imagined.

Your eyes, like magnets, are drawn right to his crimson gaze. Lightning shoots through your chest, and you look away so fast you nearly pull a muscle in your neck. You cast your gaze immediately to the red-faced MP in front of you and let yourself stare. Still, from the corner of your eye, you can see the way he lingers, still facing you.

You haven’t seen Katsuki in months. Luckily, your ability to multitask has not faded, and you make easy small talk with the mayor and his wife while you sense him, in all his midnight splendor, disappearing into the crowd again.

A close call. Too close, in fact, not to warrant a drink. You excuse yourself kindly from the mayor’s attention, cutting through the glamorous partygoers until you reach the bar at the center of the room. It’s crowded, but you grab the bartender’s attention quick enough and order the first of many glasses of Dom Perignon.

The agency knows how to spend, for a special occasion.

It’s while you’re trapped at the bar, waiting for that imperative first drink, that he corners you. You spot him an instant too late, sidling between two dancing couples and crossing the short distance between you. There’s no way to skirt subtly away from him now. Instead, you lean more fervently across the bar and immerse yourself in an intense examination of the liquor, shelved decoratively behind the working bartenders.

He hesitates—possibly for the first time ever—but you’re determined not to watch as he searches for the right way to bridge the silence. You spot the way he stuffs his hands into his pockets, and when he finally speaks it’s low and sharp and bitter.

“That’s a nice dress.”

He has to lean too close to make his voice heard, speaking low and gruff to you in a way he never used to. You’re too anxious to care whether he sees the way you close your eyes to dull the fervent ache that flares in your chest.

He’s not allowed to say things like that to you. Not now.

“Listen.” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, pushing ahead.

In the throes of closeness, it’s easy to pick up the tremor in his voice. That kind of shake used to scare you. It’s the way he’s always spoken to you when he’s keeping his temper at bay in public.

He’s opening his mouth to say something else, something deeper and far more expository perhaps, but your champagne arrives with no moment to spare. You pluck it eagerly from the bartender’s fingers with an exceedingly gracious smile and turn quickly in the direction you swear Katsuki’s not blocking.

“Watch it.” He grabs your wrist to keep you from sloshing half your fresh champagne down your front. His touch sears hotter than you’d dreaded, and you can’t stop yourself from flinching at the rough brush of his calloused fingers over your tender inner wrist.

Fuck.

“Don’t run off,” he insists, squeezing your wrist just a little tighter. Your entire body is drawn tight like a bow, but you’re not actively searching for an escape route at this point. Sensing this, he slowly unwraps his fingers, dropping your hand and letting you down half your drink in a couple of parched gulps.

“You look…” you start to say, letting your eyes wander his immaculate form one more time. Whoever cut that suit for him knew his shape well. It fits perfectly. Contrasts his golden hair like the night behind a harvest moon.

Absence has not culled your feelings for him. Especially not when he comes back to you like this.

You take another long, slow sip, ignoring the way Katsuki’s brows shoot toward his hairline when you nearly empty the glass. His gaze darts to the narrow flute in your hand, the prints of peachy lipstick that mar it.

With your heart beating a touch slower, you try again.

“You look good.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes.

“I can’t—” he starts, shaking his head as his eyes swim the crowd. “I’m not doing this.”

“What?” Your stomach drops. When he looks at you again it’s dead straight, burgundy and blazing in that way that used to make you molten.

Now it makes you want to cut and run.

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ play nice, like this,” he pushes. He takes a step toward you, letting your name—your real name—fall from his lips as tender and soft as a prayer. “Explain to me why my agent had to tell me you were gonna be here tonight.”

“Katsuki,” you plead quietly, backing away from him a touch. “I don’t want to—I can’t. Here. Please.”

For a million other people he might press on. He might get angry and demand an answer, threaten anything it takes to solve the puzzles in his brain. For you, his strong jaw ticks and he shoves clenched fists back into his ironed pockets.

“Let’s just,” you begin, “make it through to midnight, okay?”

“Fine,” he bites, but he doesn’t like folding to you. He gets you back by clearing his throat and extending you a palm, drawing the attention of the people around you. They turn, charmed by the agency’s finest reappearing as the duo they’ve always adored.

There’s a glint of something in his eyes as he gives his chin a little jut toward the dance floor.

“Dance with me, then.”

You’ve been to hundreds of opulent agency spectacles together. Charity benefits, galas, holiday parties and the like have always been studded by your presence. But no matter how many times you’ve entered the party together, you never managed to get him onto the dance floor. Despite your whining and pleading and fussing, he’s never ever let you drag him out there.

So this feels like a particularly low blow. But the orchestra’s struck up a dreamy rendition of The Way You Look Tonight and there are too many people watching for you to turn him down.

Instead, you down the rest of your champagne, set it on the bar behind you, and slip your hand defiantly into his.

“Fine.”

His fingers close gently around your palm and he gives it a lingering squeeze that turns your blood to venom.

You’re already racing through a complex plan to survive this attention as he walks you onto the dance floor. Some of the other couples pause in their swaying to send a smattering of applause over the crowd. You can feel the winning smile tugging at your mouth, forcing you to swallow the panicked ache in your chest.

Katsuki pauses at the center of the dance floor and pulls you slowly closer. The low dip of your gown places his warm hand on bare skin when he settles it in the small of your back, and you’re sure he doesn’t miss the sharp little suck of breath that you’re not prepared to hide.

He does not try to speak, so you’re silent as you settle a shaky hand on the shoulder of his perfect suit. He’s as perfect a dancer as you’ve always known he’d be, and he leads you into a smooth little sway that’s easy enough to navigate in your precarious gold heels but sweeps you into the music like a scene from years gone by.

“Hey,” he grunts a few bars in, ducking a little closer as his fingers press into the bare skin of your spine. He pulls you against him, forcing your tense body against his. The gentle dip of his hairstyle brushes your temple as he leans forward to murmur in your ear. “You’re holding your breath.”

You deflate against him, letting your eyes fall shut. When you take your next careful inhale, your head is filled by the heady, smoky scent of him. Your heart pounds so forcefully it’s practically blinding you. But above all else you hate yourself for still feeling all of this, after so many months of promising to force it away.

Katsuki knows you well enough not to try and trap you in conversation in public. But he doesn’t pull back any further, continuing to hold you flush against him, letting your soft cheek brush his with every couple of steps.

Despite your best efforts, you’re drowning in him: the strength of his touch, the fluidity in his movements. His thumb strokes the base of your spine with an easy rhythm that you’re trying hard not to notice. It’s becoming too much. He’s holding you closer than a colleague should, tucking his nose too attentively against the side of your head for a courtesy dance. You’re overthinking too many of the signs. You’re letting yourself believe what should have been thoroughly dashed to pieces so many months ago.

It’s when tears well behind your glittery eyelids that you put a stop to it.

“Katsuki, I—” You can’t finish, pushing yourself sharply away from his chest. Whatever expression of dreamlike peace that had touched his eyes fades quickly as he sees the telltale wet sparkle in yours, and he reaches for you an instant too late.

He calls your name softly, fingertips brushing the edge of your upper arm. But your tears are spilling over and you’re backing away and you cannot be here anymore, not when people are starting to see.

“I can’t do this,” you plead. “I can’t pre—I’m sorry.”

With a final shake of your head, you turn and hurry clumsily from the dance floor, pulling up the beaded skirt of your heavy gown and sweeping, as quickly as possible, to the glass doors shut tightly against the imposing snow on the terrace.

It’s bitterly cold, nearly fifty storeys up, and the wind whips mercilessly past your bare arms with biting chill. You can’t stay out here long, but it still feels better than the alternative.

With shaking fingers, you dip into the tiny bag you’ve been wearing over one shoulder. You’ve stashed exactly one emergency cigarette in its silky depths. You haven’t smoked in weeks, but something told you that tonight would beg one.

You have to back away from the railing to even light it in the wind, but you’re barely two puffs in before the door behind you opens carefully.

It’s the last person in the world you hoped for. And the only one you can imagine finding you out here. He’s got a glass of something neat in each hand—amber in one, clear in the other. He spies the cigarette in your fingers and his soft, concerned expression melts into a scowl.

“You’re still smoking?”

You take a defiant drag, blowing the smoke in his direction. The wind catches it, carrying it in a sharp curve back over your head. Katsuki licks his lower lip, but you can tell by the way his nose twitches that he’s trying not to chuckle.

You nod toward the whiskey in his right hand. “How many of those have you had tonight?”

“Not enough,” he quips. He nods toward the cigarette. “Put it out.”

“You don’t get to order me around anymore.”

“I said put it out.”

Your livid soul wants to defy him. You’re craving the conflict that inevitably comes when you both dig in your heels. But you’ve got no energy left to fight, so you flick the smoke dejectedly onto the wet pavement and crush it under one delicate pump.

“Better?” The attitude cuts cruelly through your voice. Katsuki just pushes the other glass into your hand and you know that it’s gin before you even have to smell it. You roll your eyes.

“The healthier alternative,” you snarl, but he’s finished with your games.

“Come inside,” he prompts. “You’re gonna lose your nose out here.”

“I’m not sure that’s your problem any longer.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you? Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Katsuki, I wanna hear you say it.”

He’s throwing back an irritated slug of his drink, but he bristles, gesturing wildly with the cup.

“Like we’re not gonna be partners anymore.”

His voice is punctuated by a horrible, involuntary sob that breaks from your lips. He’s always been able to read you so well, picking up on things that you’re not even ready to acknowledge. But he’s right. That is how you’ve been speaking, because you can’t even imagine standing next to him in a photo right now, let alone letting him take your life into his hands.

Katsuki moves forward, shocked by your tears, but you hold your empty palm out straight and, like he would only for you, he relents.

“Because I don’t think we can be anymore.”

“Shut up. Look at you. You’re fine. You look…” his eyes cast briefly over your form, “fine.”

You clap a hand protectively to your abdomen, remembering the painful tug and knowing that he’s missing the point.

“That’s not why,” you snap through your tears. “That’s not even…close to why. Katsuki, don’t be dense.” Your voice is breaking because you’re about to say it, the thing you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel as you were zipped into your gown earlier tonight. And if you’re going to say it, there’s no point in doing it with gusto.

Might as well go out like the whimpering fool you are.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whine, “because somehow, despite my best efforts, Katsuki, I fell fucking in love with you, so hard, and you knew I did, and so you…you don’t. You don’t, and I’ve ruined everything, and that’s fine, but I—”

He pulls your name from the very depths of his chest. If you were expecting fire and brimstone, you’re met with an even more harrowing sight—soft, somber, remorseful Katsuki, looking at you like he’d stop the world on its axis if it would make things better.

The memories are too easy to reconjure, and the sunshine of that sticky summer afternoon that changed everything lights up behind his gaze.

There was a crime syndicate you’d been uprooting for months. An underground hideout tucked well away from the prying eyes of hero society. A stray spray of bullets—bullets, of all things, finding the gaps in your shattered armour and nearly taking you from him.

You’d been sure. Both of you. There were too many shots. There was too much blood. The hideout was too well-hidden for anybody to find you in time. Your vision was bleeding out around the edges, and you saw Katsuki cry real tears for the first time.

In a slurred heap of breathless prose, you’d unloaded everything. The most important secret you’d ever kept from him came spilling from your blood-tinged lips.

You were glad to go, if it meant you never had to lose him. Glad to be the one to selfishly leave him behind. You were going to be okay if you never had to face a world without him in it. Because—and you’d choked this on a fresh wave of blood and ungraceful spittle—you’d loved him as long as you’d ever known him.

Six days later, you woke up alone in the ICU. And that was the last you’d seen or heard or known of the man who’d once promised to have your back, always.

Katsuki silently finishes his drink. His cheeks and nose have flushed deeply from the ruthless chill, and he turns to give the city one last glance before moving toward the door.

“Come inside,” he gruffs. Deep shivers have broken out along the column of your spine, but you wrap your frigid arms around yourself in protest.

“I’m not going back in there.” Not like this.

“Idiot,” he snaps softly. “Look at you. You’re gonna die for real if you stay out here.” He tightens his jaw and slams the empty glass down on the windowsill. Then he looks at you with all the lights of the night blazing in his crimson stare.

“Let me take you somewhere quiet. No one’s gonna see.” His chest rises and falls with a deep breath and he reaches carefully for your arm. “I promise.”

Even with a breaking heart, you’re a fucking sucker for him. Your voice is teary and pathetic but pinched by cold.

“Fine.”

He slips an arm around your shoulders—making your chest lurch—and you duck back inside. Immediately he takes you to the wall, putting himself between you and the rest of the party. With the breadth of his chest he shields you from prying eyes that grow drunker by the minute.

You skirt the edge of the party, making it to the stairwell door on the opposite wall. Somebody by the bar looks up just in time to see Bakugou tugging fiercely down on the handle, but you slip onto the fluorescent-lit landing and the silver door falls shut behind you without consequence.

You’re turning around to grab for the door that isn’t closing fast enough as he slips through it, colliding gently with his chest. Bakugou grabs your wrists to stop you, and for an instant you’re nose-to-nose, smelling him and the whiskey on his breath and the faint odour of paint that never quite faded from the concrete walls.

If not for the tears leaving streaks in your makeup, you might let yourself believe he’s lingering in front of you on purpose.

You pull from his grip and turn back toward the stairs before either of you have the chance to imagine more.

Your office is at the end of the hall on the next floor down. It’s a corner office studded with windows, far too lovely for someone who spends as much time in the field as you do. But you’d worked hard to make it a personable space, with plants and artwork and a couple of very comfortable guest chairs in emerald velvet.

Katsuki rolls his eyes every time he has to wave off the odour of your favourite scented candle, but you’ve caught him admiring what you’ve done with his office, too.

Now, the space is too tidy for either of your tastes, a little dusty from so many months of neglect. You’ve been out of commission for six months, and nursing a heartbreak far too immense to allow any casual visits to the agency.

He closes the door behind the both of you. Locks it, just in case. You’re already pacing across the rug and perching on the edge of the desk, gratefully taking some of the weight off your aching feet.

He keeps his back to you for a long moment, fingers lingering on the brass doorknob. His shoulders bob with a deep, harrowing sigh.

“You were dying.”

He turns around, and in the quiet dark of your office his eyes are lit up with a deeper fear than you’ve ever seen in him. He comes toward you and sits in one of your squishy little chairs, steepling his fingers and settling his elbows on his knees.

“You don’t–” he shakes his head and lowers it, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead. “You don’t understand. You weren’t making any sense.”

“I was,” you bite back, gripping at the edge of your desk. “I meant everything I said to you, Katsuki; I remember every word.”

He flinches. He looks so sorry it’s starting to genuinely scare you.

“That’s not it,” he demands, straightening. “You didn’t. I did.” He slapped a hand against his chest, the dull thud reverberating through your own heart.

“You said those things and I didn’t believe you. They couldn’t have been true. Not when I’d spent so much fucking time wishing they could be. I couldn’t tell myself you felt that way about me. I couldn’t hope. Not when I’d come so fucking close to losing you so easily, I—”

His voice breaks and he looks away, and you might be crazy but his chin gives a telltale little shake like he’s holding back tears.

“So you thought it would be easier to what? Fucking ghost me like a bad Tinder date?”

That hurts more than it should. You’ve seen Bakugou at his very worst, bleeding and soot-streaked and showing you feelings he never means to. For a very brief period in your lives, you believed yourself to be special.

“Don’t play the innocent,” he snarls. “You never talked to me, either. I had to find out from my fucking manager that you were outta the hospital.”

“So you never thought to drop by? Bring some fucking… flowers?” You can feel the venom filling your mouth and you’re not altogether certain you’re strong enough to swallow it this time.

“And tell you what? That I was in love with you and, maybe I heard you wrong, but you said something while you were dying in my fuckin’ arms and I was hoping for some goddamned clarification?”

“Yes!” You sob, the word ripping itself from your chest and landing wet and heavy on the floor between you. “That! Anything would have been better than radio fucking silence. Katsuki, I was sure you hated me.”

“Well I fucking love you, okay?” He rises from his chair, taking one step forward. It lands him almost right between your thighs and you hate how close he is, but you have no power to pull away. He cups your jaw in strong, gentle fingers, forcing your eyes to his.

“I fucked up,” he presses. He leans down and presses his forehead to yours and this time his proximity is on purpose. You drink it down in eager gulps.

“I missed you,” he murmurs. Despite your tears and the ache in your heart, you give a wet little laugh and nuzzle your nose against his.

“I missed you, too.”

He takes your hands and pulls them both to his chest. And for a long moment you just sit there, curled over one another in the dark and growing accustomed to the idea of being okay again.

“Did you just…” you start after a long moment of silence. His eyelashes flutter against your cheek as he tucks his cheek against yours, but the grin that pulls your mouth is enough for him to stand back and look at you.

“Did you just admit to making a mistake?”

You’re laughing at your own joke before Katsuki can even roll his eyes. But he’s scowling good-naturedly and tugging himself against you by the hips.

“C’mere, you brat.”

He’s leaning in to close the distance between you when muffled chanting from upstairs makes you pause. You tilt an ear toward the window and light up, easily recognizing the five, four, three, two, one as the magnitude builds.

Bright flashes of gold and red light up the sky outside your window in a brilliant display. And all at once the lingering ache drains from your chest and you shoot Katsuki a fond little smile.

“I guess it’s midnight.”

“We missed the fireworks,” he notes, nodding toward the window as he edges back toward you.

“Not really,” you confess, and the first real big smile breaks through the pain when he steps up between your knees again, nice and tight and deliberate.

He cups your jaw in one hand again, settling the other palm on your knee, where it peeks through the golden slip of your dress.

“Happy New Year,” you whisper, eyes falling shut. You hear the way he smiles, that bare little chuckle that used to make your heart light up like stars.

He leans in and kisses you without another word. It’s soft but firm and so loving, so much better than any brush of the hand or lingering glance. Better, even, than the way he danced you into a stupor upstairs. This is yours and nobody else’s.

And you’re not letting him go anytime soon.

You let the kiss deepen as naturally as you can, dropping your jaw and letting the bare press of his tongue roll against your teeth. You reach up and grab his jacket by its lapels, hitching him even closer as the fireworks die out behind you.

He’s not backing down, either. Katsuki draws his hands from your body to unbutton his jacket, shrugging it away easily without breaking the kiss. He’s pressing his mouth to yours in long, lingering spells, tasting you eagerly while his hands have to stay busy. But as soon as he can he’s touching you again, teasing his fingers under the slit of your dress and brushing them over your bare thighs.

“Katsuki…” you whine into his mouth, turning your head to gasp and fill your empty lungs. He finds the next bare patch of skin, kissing down the side of your jaw. He finds your earring where it lays against your tender neck, sucking the crystal into his mouth and giving it a gentle tug.

“Fuck,” you gasp, and he grins into your skin.

“Don’t tell me you’ve had enough already.”

“Not a chance,” you growl. There are millions of questions flooding your subconscious. But years of tension and desire spiral more fiercely between you. It’s energy that demands release. And you don’t want to wait another second.

“God,” he groans hard, collapsing gently into you. As he presses forward against you, the twitching swell of his erection pushes into your bare thigh. You slide your palms down the meat of his chest and find his mouth again, kissing him with searing intent.

“Look at you,” he rasps into your mouth, gripping hard at the weighty skirt of your beaded gown. “You’re a goddamned vision in this, you know that?”

You pull back to look at him, raw sexual energy briefly dispersed by his tender confession. For a long moment you sit there, panting at each other, remembering how much this is about to mean.

Fuck it. If he’s in, so are you.

“Help me get it off.”

You slide to your feet, pushing him back a couple of steps to accommodate you. As soon as you turn around he’s sliding a palm up your side, thumbing at the fabric to find its zipper.

“God damn,” he growls, leaning in to kiss a path down the column of your spine. He drops to one knee as he works the zipper down the back of the dress—sitting low, thanks to its open back—letting his mouth trail all the way to the waistband of your underwear. All the while, you brace a palm on the edge of your desk, trying your best not to implode.

This is more attention than you ever could have prayed for.

He peels the thin straps down your arms and shoves the whole mess to your feet. You’re bending down to unbuckle the straps on your heels, but he stops you with a hand on the back of your thigh.

“Leave ‘em on.”

His voice sends a sharp pang of arousal through your entire body. When he stands, trailing his fingers all the way up the back of your naked thigh and over the swell of your ass, the arousal disperses into a dull ache that settles in the pit of your stomach and throbs incessantly.

He digs his fingers into the flesh of your hip and turns you to face him. Your nipples are already peaking in the chill of your office, and he sucks a deep breath through his teeth as he slides his palms up your tummy.

There’s puckered scar tissue and new ridges on your abdomen, but there’s no pain when he traces brushes over them.

He pauses, looking down with dull shock tugging his brow. You’re holding your breath again, watching him circle the roughest part of your new scars with one tender thumb.

“It’s okay,” you plead, cupping his cheeks and forcing his eyes back to yours. There’s pain littering his gaze that you’re determined to dissolve, and you lean in to kiss him until he’s groaning into your mouth and drawing his hands toward your chest.

“God,” you breathe, goosebumps betraying you as they race beneath his fingers. Katsuki watches your face as he dips his head, pushing your breasts together and laying kisses between them.

“Please,” you whimper, reaching forward and settling a hand over the front of his pants. You palm the shape of his cock through the pressed wool and he flinches, biting gently into your tender flesh.

“Katsuki,” you pant, squeezing and rubbing the hard swell in a gentle, heady rhythm as you set your ass on the edge of your desk again. “I need you.”

“Jesus,” he curses, dropping his hands and reaching desperately for his tie. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me before I even get my cock out, sweetness.”

It’s the dirtiest thing he’s ever said to you. And it shows. You’re a shivering, lustblown mess already, but the petname that falls from his lips is enough to make you whimper.

He shrugs out of his shirt and pushes you further onto the desk, dropping to his knees in front of you and pushing your thighs apart with strong fingers.

“Always kinda wanted to do this in here,” he confesses with that cocky smirk that’s always made a hummingbird out of your heart.

But Katsuki doesn’t give you too much time to swoon over his pretty words, kissing a path up the inside of one plush thigh and nipping at your sensitive flesh. He helps you brace your heels against the rug and lift your hips, peeling your underwear off and rucking it down your knees. There’s something very naughty about the way it feels to settle your bare ass on your polished desk.

But there’s something even naughtier about the way it feels to have Katsuki on his knees in front of you.

He pushes your thighs apart again, harsher this time, and settles your knees over his shoulders. You’d like to ride the wave of self-consciousness that threatens to crest when his breath ghosts over the folds of your heated sex.

He pushes higher for a moment, taking your sides in his hands and drawing lovely little kisses down the rough length of your scar. You push self-consciously at his head, making him pull pack and settle a hand over the flesh instead. He tilts his chin up, shooting you a look so filled with guilt and sorrow it nearly shatters the moment.

He wasn’t there for the pain. And as he kisses back down to your hips and thighs, you let yourself hope that this will be enough to make up for it on both sides.

But then he leans in and licks a long stripe up your cunt and the groan that echoes from his chest makes it hard to do anything but cum on the spot.

“Fuck,” you sigh wantonly, letting your head fall back as you brace your palms on the wood behind you. Your fingertips dig into the surface and he settles into an easy rhythm, slipping his arms under your thighs and tugging you tight to his face.

He’s not shy with his voice, either, grunting and sighing into your pussy with every stroke of his tongue. The noises double your pleasure almost immediately, coupled with the obscene slurps that vibrate all the way up your spine.

It doesn’t take long at all for him to find that tender little spot, the perfect direction from which to swirl his tongue against your clit. It’s obvious in the way your legs go tight around the sides of his head, the way you shiver and cry and clap a hand to the back of his head.

He grunts hard into your body when your fingers rake through his hair, harder still when your tense thighs press the narrow points of your heels into the flesh of his back.

“Katsu,” you whimper, already fucked out and tender like you’ve never been for him, “I’m gonna cum. Fucking shit, I-I’m gonna…”

He takes your warning like a hit, leaning more fiercely into you, keeping his rhythm with intense precision. Later, you’ll try not to think about why he’s so good at this. But right now, all you can think about is the way your pleasure rears up and crashes over you, sending loud gasps and breathy mewls of ecstasy from your chest as you squeeze his head and pull his hair and roll your hips shakily into his persistent mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” he snarls, sitting back on his haunches and swiping a palm over his flushed lips. He looks up at you, rubbing your thigh with one free hand as you come down panting from your ecstatic high. Between his legs, his cock juts obscenely down one thigh of his suit pants, and he palms himself shamelessly as he gets to his feet, taking in every inch of your pleasure-soaked self.

“You’re gonna make me cream my fuckin’ pants someday,” he chides, fumbling with his belt and impatiently shucking his pants. His undershorts follow closely, and you’re barely on your feet again before he takes you by the shoulders and turns your back to him.

“C’mere.” He slides a hand under one of your thighs, hitching it gently onto the edge of your desk and coming up tightly behind you. The brush of his knuckle against your ass proves that he’s stroking himself, and the tip of his stiff cock leaves a little print of wet precum on the back of your leg.

“Please,” you moan, still hazy and shaken from your first orgasm. Still endlessly needy, though, when Katsuki’s involved. “God, baby, just fuck me already.”

“Fuckin’ hell, you can’t say shit like that,” he groans, twitching behind you. “It’s like you don’t know how fuckin’ sexy you are.”

He braces a hand on your bare hip and then you feel it, the tip of his drooling cock pressing up between your slippery folds. It’s enough to make you whine and arch your back, wiggling your hips impatiently against his.

It’s enough to make Katsuki lose it.

“Shit,” he growls, gripping the fat of your hip and pushing forward, sliding home with one smooth thrust. He bottoms out inside you right away, buried perfectly in your belly and making you feel every inch.

“Baby—” you start to breathe, but he doesn’t waste time. Katsuki reaches around and lays his palm flat on your sternum, pulling you back against him. He keeps his other hand braced on your hip for leverage, dropping his mouth to the crook of your shoulder while he starts to thrust.

All you can do is keep your knee planted on the edge of your desk and try not to scream as he fucks you in steady, long thrusts, lapping and sucking all along the side of your neck while his hand roams over your chest and thumbs your nipple. Whatever hairstyle you’d left the house with has come long undone by now and you’re sure that if your makeup wasn’t smudged before, it’s certainly not going to survive the drool and sweat and heat that he’s forcing through you with every push of his hips.

The slap of his body against yours fills the space, punctuated only by your harsh pants and quiet whines of pleasure. Katsuki’s fingers dig harshly into your hip, gripping you tighter each time he anchors himself back into your fluttering cunt. Your walls are clamping ruthlessly around him, but he doesn’t miss a beat, slipping that free palm away from your nipples and down your belly to strum rhythmically at the swell of your stiff clit.

“I love you,” he grunts breathlessly behind you, and the raw truth behind it brings a rush of warmth to your chest you can’t ignore. You turn your head sharply towards him, pushing your forehead to his and feeling every beat as his breathing becomes laboured.

His body’s growing tight behind yours, his thrusts losing some of their impeccable rhythm as his brow knits against yours. He’s concentrating hard—holding back, you realize—and you reach down to cover his hand that braces your hip, giving it a relenting squeeze.

“Baby,” you plead. “Let go for me, baby, I can feel it.”

“God,” he mutters. “No—fuck, gonna make you—with me, sweetness.” Your body is clenching in preparation for your own climax already, and the fact that he can even pick up on it shouldn’t surprise you.

“I’m there,” you promise. “I’m there, Katsuki, fuck, just cum for me. Please.”

His arms tighten around you, seizing you hard against his heaving chest. You lean forward and seal your mouth against his, kissing him as he loses control and cums with a shout that echoes at the back of your throat.

He grabs your ass in one hand and fucks madly into you, spurting warm handfuls of cum into your belly and biting down hard on your lower lip. The erratic twitch of his fingers on your still-aching clit and the warm release inside you is enough to bring you to another tight, simpering little peak—not as powerful as the first one, but just as significant.

He stays behind you for a long moment, pinning you to the desk while he goes soft inside you. Finally he peppers kisses down the back of one shoulder and steps away from you, already smoothing his hair and taking in the image of you, in nothing but your heels, dripping with his cum.

The first of many, you let yourself hope, as you turn to carefully face him.

“I guess we missed the countdown,” you quip, reaching for your discarded panties. Navigating the strappy thing seems a great deal more complicated now that it’s not Katsuki tearing them off you.

He smirks at you in a way that does not make it easier to concentrate on the task at hand. Especially since he’s watching you struggle, easily buttoning himself into his now-creased shirt.

“I didn’t miss a thing.”

He’s already half-clothed by the time you get your underwear on again, stooping to collect your delicate dress from the floor and thumbing the sequins that pepper its surface. His smirk has dissolved into another pensive look as he examines the cloth.

“If I’d known,” he tells you, pressing the scratchy fabric into your hands, “I never would’ve—”

You lean up and push your mouth to his, soft and loving and just enough to silence him.

“I know.”

Once Katsuki’s got the rest of his clothes on, he helps you carefully into your dress and gets behind you one more time to help you zip it. He can’t stop kissing you even for a minute, peppering his lips over your back, neck, arms. He turns you around and takes your hands, kissing the backs of each palm with devotion that, if you stop and think about it, you’ve seen in his eyes a thousand times before.

“You’ll make it up to me,” you promise good naturedly, letting him slide his arms around your waist. He looks at you again, diligent and honest.

“I will.”

“Good.”

You slide your hands up his sleeves of heart-stealing midnight blue, smiling so big it ought to hurt. You tilt your head toward the door, giving your chin a little jerk as you squeeze his biceps through the pressed wool.

“For a start,” you say, daring to lean a little closer while he’s still feeling tender, “how about another dance?”

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo #my hero academia #bakugou #bnha #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugo #it's new years eeeeeeve and i am not #spending it with him #sigh #;.;

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ratingtheframe · 3 years

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10 Films to watch this Valentine’s Day if you’re single as hell.

If anyone or anything is making you feel worthless on the Capitalist Holiday that is Valentine’s Day because you’re single AF, then don’t fret because it means one of two things;

You’re happy enough with yourself to not need anyone else.

You’re allergic to people.

Though mine is both the former and the latter, I can still get down to a good romance movie now and again. Now I’m not talking about those horrendous rom coms that Netflix seems to be churning out every damn minute, but those emotionally invested, earthy and well written dramas that has you ugly crying into your bathrobe for 17 minutes straight (me at the end of Her.). Here is a compiled list of some of the best romance films I’ve seen over the years and how each one doesn’t showcase an abundance of clichés and brands them as “acts of love”.

A Star is Born (2018 or 1953, take your pick)

I’ve found that both the 1953 version of A Star is Born with Judy Garland and the 2018 newer version to be a perfect and well rounded love story. What makes this love story so fierce is the vulnerabilities and downfall of its characters, which even though there are many sad moments, it perpetuates and strengthens the acts of love shown in the film. Both versions are similar in that they follow a woman who’s rise to fame as a performer becomes overshadowed by her jealous partner, who is also a notable celebrity. In the 2018 version starring Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper, Gaga’s character Ally is helped by a country singer, Jackson Maine to become a successful singer and icon amongst the music industry. As she rises, Jackson falls and the character dynamics and intensity between them is a fitting love story. I was thoroughly bawling at the end and I guarantee you will too as Lady Gaga’s rendition of Love Again was the true scene stealer of the film.

Call me by your name (2017)

I have an incredible bias towards this film and it has nothing to do with the film’s context or characters or even Timothée Chalamet The reason why I feel so connected to this film and proclaim it as my favourite film of all time is because of when I watched the film. It’s almost like seeing a film about a political event right after it's happened; you have this rush and connection towards something that’s actually affected you in the real world. I had the same feeling with Call me by your name after going through a rough and confusing patch whilst trying to get over someone I thought I truly loved. Turns out I didn’t (thank god) and yet Call me your name was almost like a shoulder to cry on. It’s a film that’s taught me to love and love hard but most importantly, not beat yourself up or try to distinguish the pain felt by true love. If you haven’t been fortunate to catch this beauty of a film, it follows two men, Elio (Timothée Chalamet) and Oliver (Armie Hammer) and their brief relationship in the summer of 1983 in Northern Italy. 17 year old Elio lives with his parents and his father (Michael Stuhlbarg) is a scholar who invites students from outside the country for the summer in hope of passing on his wisdom to them. This is when Oliver arrives, a handsome twenty something American who becomes the infatuation of Elio.

I’ll never forget the first time I heard the monologue that Elio’s father gave his son at the end, explaining to Elio why he shouldn’t feel embarrassed by the pain he felt after loving Oliver:

“We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster, that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to make yourself feel nothing so as not to feel anything - what a waste”

That, ladies and gentlemen and all in between, is what love is.

Her. (2013)

Once again, another film about love that had a profound effect on me because of when I watched it. Her. follows the story of Theodore (Joaquin Phoenix) and his search for a story using an A.I to help him write. However, after getting to know this A.I named Samantha (Scarlett Johansson) and hearing the way she adapts and shows emotions, he soon falls in love with it. Some may deem this as rather sad (which it is) but I think it speaks to bigger constructs like internet dating and letting go of people you loved thus diminishing the fantasy and world you created for the two of you. This part of the film got to me a stark way as I felt the pain of letting go of not only a person, but a fantasy, just like Theodore had to do in letting his past partners go. Her. is truly beautiful, with some great production design, cinematography and acting.

Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)

The absolute queen of love stories would be Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire, a film about the romance between two women in the late 18th Century. Definitely not a narrative you see every day or one that’s been painted in such a way (pun intended). Marianne (Noémie Merlant) is commissioned to paint the beautiful and stubborn Héloïse (Adèle Haenel) and the portrait is to be gifted to a suitor of Héloïse’s from Milan. But instead of getting the painting done and sending it off, Marianne and Héloïse unexpectedly fall for one another at a subtle and well timed pace that had me gawping at the screen the entire way through. Slow, sensual and moving is Portrait of a Lady on Fire and I would definitely say is one of the best LGBTQ plus films ever made to date.

Broke Back Mountain (2005)

Ang Lee scooped up a BAFTA, Golden Globe and Oscar for his direction on his adapted screenplay of Brokeback Mountain. Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) form a romantic bond after shepherding alone together on the side of a mountain. Once their time herding sheep comes to a close and they return back to their respective lives, it's clear that their bond is stronger than they had anticipated. They live in constant fear of their relationship becoming apparent to those around them, which leaves one of them taking matters into their own hands. A controversial yet extremely successful film of its time, Brokeback Mountain does a fabulous job of showcasing the consequences and despair of love using two of Hollywood’s finest actors.

Carol (2013)

It’s difficult to fully appreciate LGBTQ plus films set in the past as they mostly focus on the persecution of homosexuals as opposed to the love they wish to express. However, this was pretty accurate of the time and it's only very recently that we have begun to accept one another’s sexualities and genders fully so much that we play these stories out on screen without the persecution part. Carol is a film directed by Todd Haynes and stars Rooney Mara and Cate Blanchett. I found them to be an extremely intense pairing whilst they unravelled as their characters on screen. Therese (Rooney Mara) works in the toy department of a department store when one day she lays eyes upon Carol Aird, a beautiful and elegant married woman who becomes the infatuation of Therese. Therese throws all caution to the wind in order to be closer to Carol and because of this and the 1950s society they live in, their relationship is doomed from the beginning. I was in complete awe of the way Carol had been shot and created into this sensual and rich drama set in the 1950s. From the costumes, to the lighting to the acting, everything about Carol held weight to it showcasing the devotion of a truly talented director.

Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind (2004)

Usually I’d pass on a Charlie Kaufman film, seeing as they make no sense, however I felt that it was time I delved into this cult classic starring Kate Winslet, Jim Carrey, Kirsten Dunst, Mark Ruffalo and Elijah Wood. It’s a really well made film with a clear and distinct message to it that’s represented in some phenomenal filmmaking techniques. The plot line of this film follows a man trying to erase a past lover and his memories of her get wiped away physically before your eyes on screen. It made me wish that I could do the same with people I’ve liked in the past, but the contradictory of this would be the trauma of eventually ending up with someone you had already met in another life. I haven’t experienced a break up nor felt the pain of one, though I could judge that this film tells that experience really well.

Moonlight (2016)

Moonlight is one of few films that I would genuinely worship if it were a religion. It's also one of the films that I outwardly shame people for not having seen, as it is truly a masterpiece and film lover’s film. Deep, emotionally connected, colourful, harsh, moving and eye opening, this film takes you on an emotional rollercoaster through the eyes of Chiron and the three stages of his life that have carved out his essence as a human being. Not only that, but he falls in love with another boy at his school, and when he does, he’s hurt rather badly. Literally. Moonlight is the definition of profundity and was awarded the top prize of Best Picture at the 2017 Academy Awards.

Loving (2016)

When I think of a truthful and honest testament of love, the film Loving comes to mind which is a fitting title for such a delicate yet strong story. The film is based on a true story of an interracial couple, Richard and Mildred (Joel Edgerton and Ruth Negga) being banned from Virginia in the 1950s for choosing to be together. If that ain’t a true sacrifice of love, then I don’t know what is. Choosing someone you love over your own home is an unfathomable thing and certainly shows the strength that this couple had in facing the judgements of others whilst remaining emotionally truthful to themselves.

The Shape of Water (2017)

The Shape of Water is a strange yet enlightening love story between Eliza, a deaf woman (Sally Hawkins) and a creature being tested on in a laboratory. Awards season went mental for this back in 2018, winning four of the THIRTEEN Oscars it was nominated for. I would categorize it as quite the niche film and wouldn’t usually think that such a film could be garnered with Oscar success. However everyone who worked on this film really pulled out the stops in creating an entire new world and perspective that has many layers to it, as well as an abundance of conflict and dynamics for audiences to lull over. The relationship between Eliza and the feared swamp monster that’s being cruelly tested in the laboratories where she works, is heartfelt and honest, which is strange seeing as Eliza’s virtually in love with a monster. The casting in this was outlandish yet it really worked as all actors in this melded well into the story as their prospective characters. It also has one of the most touching endings to a film I’ve ever seen.

And there you have it, ten Romance films for you to enjoy this Valentine’s Day. Watch them all at once, or maybe just watch one. Whether you watch it alone or with someone, it doesn’t really matter!

Lots of love

Ang x

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another-fantasy-world · 3 years

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Theirs, In Every Way Possible

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Pairing: Jemily x Fem! Reader, JJ x Reader x Emily

Summary: JJ and Emily thought that their life couldn’t get any better, until they met you. However, what happens when you aren’t completely truthful to them and the team who was already a family to you?

Warnings: Canon Violence, Reader came from a serial killer family, Reader has so many traumas, Homophobia, Reader has trust issues and is very indecisive. Y/N might frustrate you. Major Character Injuries.

Word Count: 3816 words

GIF isn’t mine

This case is completely made up from the top of my head, so if there are any similarities in the episodes in CM, they were probably just carved in my brain. Also, this might be a little ooc because I can’t just seem to tap into their personalities just yet

I’m sorry, I tried making this as angsty as I possibly could, I’m still working on my angst.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You were fairly new to the BAU, only working there for about 6 months, and yet you fit in really easily. It definitely helped that you were the sunshine- Penelope Garcia’s bestfriend and that Erin Strauss couldn’t bring herself to dislike you. But what matters the most to them is that fact that you were a genius. No, not like Dr. Reid genius. You understood the serial killers in a personal level, and you would often coax the weapon out of their hand and get them to submit and surrender. Of course, when they confronted you about it, you easily lied and they somehow accepted that. So much for being profilers.

You never really did know when you first started seeing the couple in a new light. Yes you liked them both. It never really mattered since you just knew that it would just fade away. It was already embedded in your brain that everyone eventually leaves and that being too close to anyone would only get them killed. You learned that the hard way. But that didn’t stop you from admiring them from the shadows. It didn’t stop you from smiling whenever they talk, it didn’t stop you from memorizing their features like they were about to vanish into thin air, it didn’t stop you from admiring how JJ controlled the media, or how Emily used that voice when she’s speaking to the unsub and it didn’t stop you from admiring how well they fit each other, how their hands fit like puzzle pieces, and how your heart clenches in awe when you see them cuddled up with each other. You didn’t know what you would do with yourself, you desperately needed to get away from them, but you also wanted and needed to be around them. God, you knew you sounded like a hormonal teenager.

“This is Daryln Garcia, Ahron Balydyn, Abbey Banagher and Jehoushua Castiel. Their names are on top of the list of the recent chain of murders all over each state.” Garcia winced at the pictures that she had to present to the whole team, she never did seem to get used to it

“Some of these are from waaaaay long before, why only now?” Emily asks from her seat , which was coincidentally next to yours

“The M.O’s are all over the place, which is why they didn’t connect the murders until now. The only thing connecting them are black sticky notes that are posted on the wall and on their body.” Rossi reads out.

“Where’s the latest one?” You ask, sipping your coffee

“...Los Angeles, California.”

“Wheels up in Five.” Hotch concludes, as everyone gets up to gather themselves.

After talking and discussing the case a bit more, You all decide to calm down for a few hours, and each and everyone of you set off to do your own things.

“Uh-huh, you’re staring at them again huh.” Garcia teased you through the screen.

Spencer was memorizing and rereading the case files,

Hotch was talking with Rossi, probably discussing the case,

Morgan has his headphones clogging his ears,

JJ and Emily were cuddling with each other as JJ munched on her cheetos.

You were currently seated away from the team, just out of earshot because you knew that Garcia would begin spouting non-sense.

“Shut up...” You blushed bright red. “...I told you this once, while I was drunk and now you bring it up in every conversation that we have. It’s just a silly little crush, sunshine. It’ll pass.” You told her, playfully glaring at the screen, to which she laughed

“Sure, Gummy Bear. Keep telling yourself that.” She grinned.

When you were about to land, you hung up on your bestfriend before steeling yourself, You didn’t need to acknowledge the gut feeling in the pit of your stomach, and you most certainly ignored the growing headache that you have.

JJ and Emily certainly noticed you right from the start. The woman who had no experience in the field whatsoever is suddenly the finest one they ever seen. (or maybe that’s just because they were so attracted to you that they happen to pay too much attention) That wasn’t the only thing they noticed though: They also noticed the tiny change in tone when you talk to either or both of them at the same time, or the way that your head would be the first to turn when they walk in the bullpen, or the way that your eyes would quickly scan them from head to toe before you bury your face into the paperwork that Hotch gave you, just a slight hint of embarrassment in your eyes peeking out from the cover or maybe it was the way that you would breathe a little heavier and talk a little faster when you discussed the case with them. You weren’t painfully obvious, but they were profilers for God’s sake, they notice everything, especially if it’s about you. There was just something so painfully attractive about you that interests them so much. The way your hair flowed as it dances with the wind, The way you licked your lips since they were dry (They tried to get you to use a lip gloss or a lip balm but you fought them, real hard.), The way your body tackled unsubs who got into your nerves (They always had to change clothes after that...), The way your eyes shined when you successfully return and reunite families, The way your mind worked: How you analyze quick, How you look at things in all angles, How you tried to put yourself in the very scene, How you work so well with Spencer and How you always seem to know what to say, every damn time. Maybe it was the way you broke social construct just by wearing a suit everytime you go to work, or it’s probably the smirks you give them when you’re right about something and they were in the wrong. (It makes them want to pounce on you, but they restrain themselves, taking their frustrations out on each other in the privacy of their own home.) But what they hate the most, it how dense you are. At this point, JJ could send you a love letter and you would think that it’s a recent case evidence.

"...This is Dr. Reid, SSA Prentiss, Y/LN, Morgan, Jareau, and Rossi."

“Right this way, we have arrested a prime suspect this morning.”

“How?” You ask, lifting two duffle bags and setting them down to your designated table

“She was found lurking around the crime scene and a bloody shirt matching one of the latest victims in his backpack.”

“Can we have her bag?” Emily asks, approaching the officer

“Yeah sure. Right this way Agent.” He leads her to somewhere while you trail Hotch to the interrogation room, only to freeze in your tracks.

“What the hell” you whispered under your breath, feeling the same suffocating aura when you felt like your past is catching up to you.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” You hear Derek ask you.

“I can’t do this. I need to call Garcia. Excuse me.” You replied with a look in your eyes. Derek recognized that same look with Emily when she ran away, pursuing Doyle to protect the team, and he’ll be damned if he let’s history repeat itself.

“Nuh-uh sweetcheeks. I know that look. Tell me.” Derek grips your forearm gently.

“Derek. I promise I won’t run away. And if I’m not back within an hour, track my phone and my ring.” you assured him, pulling your phone out and hurrying outside.

“Garcia. Please tell me that my identity is still concealed.” You begged Penelope while you were stress smoking at the back of the precinct.

“It is! I promise! There’s no way they would find you! through technology at least.” she ranted. You see, Penelope Garcia doesn’t do well with secrets, but you really needed her, and she understood that. Which is why your secret is the best kept secret she has, she hid your secret for a year now.

“Then tell me why my aunt, who might I add is an absolute psychopath, is in our major suspect list right now?” you panicked, knowing that your “family” has somehow tracked you

“It might be a coincidence, Gummy Bear. But I will look into it! I promise.”

“Garcia. One more favor. Back up all my files, all of it. From my work laptop, my FBI files, my personal devices, all of it. Then delete them all. I’m going to use a disposable starting now. Pull up the GPS service for my ring, keep an eye on me at all times. I’ll be damned if I see more of my family.” You spat out, stomping out the light of your cigarette, before popping a mint.

“Consider it done. Don’t you think it’s time to tell them?” she carefully asks, knowing how sensitive you are.

“Thank you Garcia, And I will. Once the time is right.” You grumbled, knowing that it’ll be sooner than later.

“Y/N. Tell them before it’s too late. Please, for your sake and for ours too.”

“I will short stuff. I will.”

For days you successfully evaded interrogating your aunt, subtly helping them as much as you can without raising suspicion. You knew that this secrecy is going to be revealed soon

“Y/N. We picked up coffee for you.” You suddenly hear JJ behind you, Emily’s hand gently placing the coffee in front of you, her eyes filled with concern

“You didn’t go to your hotel room did you?” Emily accused

“...No” You dropped your head onto the files in front of you

“You need your sleep Y/N. You’re no use when your brain can’t even function.” JJ retorted, taking a seat beside you, with Emily by her side.

“...Fine. A nap on that sofa. That’s it.” You bargained, determination shines in your eyes

“Okay. Go.”

And then, the moment your head hits the arm rest, you blacked out. Only waking up to Derek’s frantic shaking of your body

“Y/N! Get up!” It was rare for Derek to be this panicked and scared, and that gave you anxiety

“What? What is it?!” You stood up, feeling yourself get dizzy my how fast you got up.

“JJ and Emily are gone.”

What?

“Wait- What do you mean- How long was I asleep?” You blinked

“Precisely 4 hours, 36 minutes and 56 seconds.” Reid blurts out from infront the whiteboard.

“What happened for fuck’s sake?” You sat back down, rubbling your head

“Hotch was about to send you in on a lead, but they both volunteered instead.” Rossi explained

“And no one sent backup?” You were angry, barely keeping it in, you were slowly regretting keeping your secret now

“No one knew until now, when JJ and Emily didn’t come back after an hour, Derek went after them, only to find this.” Rossi lifts up the black sticky note.

“Family for Family, Blood for Blood”

“Is it possible that Rayna Torres, is their relative?”

“ Call and Tell Penelope I said Yes.” You point to Derek, knowing that Garcia will know what to do. You’ll let your bestfriend explain, she’ll explain it better since your mind is fogged

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your face hardened, clenching your jaw. You rarely showed anger, or annoyance for that matter, so they didn’t know what to do when you stormed off in pursuit of Hotch.

You found Hotch in the interrogation room, silently observing your Aunt

“Let me talk to her.” You say, earning a nod from him

You stormed in, slamming the door behind you.

“Listen here, you little psychopath. Where are they.” His eyes widened slightly, Hotch didn’t expect you to be so hostile

“There you are. I was beginning to think that we got the wrong team.” She grinned, intertwining her fingers, her wrists still bound to the table by a handcuff.

“I am not in the mood for your games.” You deadpanned, gripping the table to conceal your anger

“Hmmn. You always did have your father’s temper.”

“WHERE. ARE. THEY.” You slammed your palms on the metal table, making a slight dent on it. Ignoring the pain, you glared at her hard

“You know where they are child. I know that you know where they are.” The devilish grin once again appeared on her face.

“If I step foot inside that warehouse, and they are not there, I can’t guarantee your head will still be attached to your shoulders when they prepare you for your casket. Auntie.” At that statement, you walked away with a surprised Hotch on your trail.

He treated you like his very own ever since you knocked on his door, crying your eyes out, ranting about your family. Of course he noticed the small slip-ups you accidentally let out especially when you’re drunk. But it was never enough to completely put the picture together. He knows that you treat him as a father figure. Which is why he can’t let you go in there alone.

“No. Absolutely not. You might die Y/N!” You raised your brow at him, the bulletproof vest never felt as heavy as it is now

“You’ve known me for 6 months, you’ve known them for years. Why are you picking me over them? You know that I’m what they want. You or any other person steps in though that door, they’re all going to be dead before they see JJ and Emily. Not to mention they might kill JJ and Emily too. Please Hotch. This is my battle. If I die, I die. I don’t want to live knowing I could’ve done something.” Those were your last words before you slowly walked to the warehouse door after getting wired.

“This really isn’t the best first impressions you could make on your future daughters-in-law. Father.” You spoke as you saw him pointing a revolver at her, at your Emily.

You almost collapse at their state. JJ’s beautiful blonde hair caked with dirt and blood, she was staring at you, shaking her head, tears welling up in her eyes. Her lip is swollen and you could see multiple bruises forming.

However, Emily’s state was much worse. Her eyebrow was bleeding, her knuckles are bruised, she has small cuts everywhere and you could see that she was struggling to stand up despite being tied by her hands to the ceiling

“This one has a sharp tongue daughter. i don’t appreciate it.” He snarled, now pointing his gun at you

“Last one who said that exact words to had his dick cut in half. Where’s my jerkwad of a brother anyways? How’s his dick? Still has my bite marks? Scars maybe?” You smirked, hearing your “mother” load her gun

“Disrespectful Bitch. Don’t talk to your brother like that, he’s better than you ever will be” She snarled, firing at your feet, slashing through your pants, making you bleed slightly, making JJ scream through her gag.

“Your aim’s getting rusty.” You pulled out both your guns, pointing them at you biological “parents”

“And you’re wearing a bulletproof vest. Take it off and kick your guns to us. You know what’ll happen if you don’t” you gritted your teeth, taking off the vest despite the protests of Hotch and the rest of the team

“Happy?” “Very.”

“Now let them go.” You frowned

“No. You see, since you do love them right?” Your father smirked, making you frown

“Yes. I do. I’m in the same team as them for fuck’s sake!”

“No. No. That’s not just it. You love them in a different way as well. Say it.”

“...” Your mother rolled her eyes at your silence and fired two bullets to Emily and JJ, scraping Emily’s cheek and JJ’s shoulder.

You flinched, you knew not to show emotion, but it’s painful to see the women you love get hurt.

“Okay! Fine! You want me to say that I love them? I will.” You gritted out

“Go on then, you know how I love my drama shows.” You glared at them, taking a deep breath in, watching them walk out of the room, a bright spotlight aligns itself on the three of you, It really is a sick TV show that your parents would love to watch.

“What they say is true. I don’t know if you noticed it yet. But I do love you, both of you. I really hoped that I could tell you over dinner, or a cup of coffee, but I guess life has other plans. Loving the both of you seems so weird, and unconventional, but who wants to be normal and boring am I right?” You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, which they didn’t appreciate.

You moved your hand to their gags slowly, listening for complains from your parents, hearing none, your grabbed their gags and pull them down.

“Y/N-” They both started

“Shhh. Let me speak, you know I don’t have much time.” You smiled, implying that you wouldn’t get out of this alive.

“I notice everything. I do. I’m not as dense as you think I am. I just... I didn’t like the thought of you both getting attached to me. I love you both so much that I knew that if they catch up to me, I could die, or you could get hurt. And now this happened.” JJ shook her head as if to say it isn’t your fault.

“I love you both so much, I love the way you look at each other, often wished I could look at you both like that. I love the way you both force me to sleep then give me coffee in the morning. I love the way your brow furrows when you see a detail in the reports that displeases you, and then you’ll playfully glare at JJ and I when you notice that we’re laughing at you. There’s a lot more that I want to say to you, but I don’t have enough time.” you say, moving closer to them, tears staining their bruised cheek.

“I’ll see you in our usual spot in the coffee shop across the street?” You whisper to JJ, kissing her cheek

“I’ll be copying your move now.” You chuckle lightly, kissing her cheek

A slow clap rang throughout the room.

“Now that is a perfect drama and revenge.” You whipped your head around, only seeing your father. Pulling out your knife from your thigh, you run towards him recklessly, the screams of JJ and Emily’s pleads piercing your ears.

And then three gunshots rang throughout the warehouse, Derek kicked the door down, chasing after your laughing family. Your ears were ringing, you didn’t even notice that you collapsed from the impact. You couldn’t believe it actually worked. You could feel the sticky, red colored cornstarch mixture on your abdomen. However the growing pain on your shoulders prevented you from celebrating.

“Fuck.” You whimpered out, the impact of the bullets on your abdomen radiating throughout your body, yet you can also feel the bullet that’s still in your shoulder.

“Y/N. Stay with us come on” Emily whispered, despite her being in a worse condition that you, She still has your hand in a death grip.

“I’ll be fine Em.” You reassure her through jagged breaths, JJ’s crying face invading your view made you smile too.

The moment that Emily and JJ were free from their binds, they immediately limped towards you as fast as they can, both of them on each of your side, silently wishing that they had more time

“They only managed to shoot me on my shoulder okay? I’ll be fine.” You could see the confusion in their faces, which faded when the paramedics unbuttoned your stained white shirts, only to find another bulletproof vest and an empty plastic bag, previously filled with what they can assume was fake blood.

Emily’s eyes widen, what you did was dangerous, and extremely risky. You gambled on a unpredictable mess and she wondered how you got Hotch to approve of what you did, only to find out later that Hotch didn’t know either.

You could only smile at them, feeling the drugs the paramedics injected take effect, slowly drowsing off. You were happy they were somewhat safe. You were also happy that you managed to stab your father in his arm. Even if your brother did shoot your shoulder from behind, you were still happy with how things turned out.

Almost regretting what you did when you woke up to a staring Emily, JJ quietly handing you water, before they both scolded you like there’s no tomorrow.

However, after what seemed like ages of reprimanding from the older women, they both pecked your lips before asking you out on a date.

I guess it all worked out in the end.

#criminal minds #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau imagine #jennifer jareau x reader #emily prentiss x reader #jemily x reader #emily prentiss imagine

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the-antiapocalyptic-man · 3 years

Photo

Alright another compilation headverse post bc the week long blackout through me off more than I thought and I still haven’t done a finalized version of Roy, so here’s a blitz through a bunch of ideas under the cut

The Golden Age Red Hood, now a composite character (I guess?) with Arthur Fleck. Not much of a stretch since Pre-Joker Red Hood’s whole deal is just being an anonymous schmuck in a bad position and becoming the worst guy in the world, but I see this version rifting a bit on Phoenix’s Freddie Quell performance, that sense of displaced/misplaced “chaos” that’s still sort of playing into the system that allows it to exist and thrive...anyway next is Ghost-Maker

Nothing to say here really. I’m not really keeping up with Tynion’s run and I don’t want to get too in the weeds with my opinions on it, which is maybe overly evident in how unpolished my take is. If anything, I was mostly struggling to draw the character at all. He’s got a needlessly busy design that Jimenez commits to and Ortiz does some really fun stuff with, but my first batch of takes all came out like Deadpool. This version...still does? I played with the idea of making him into an identity for headverse!Lincoln March as a big Racer X joke, but who knows.

Pivoting off that, I’m much happier with the new World’s Finest piece. Early career Superman, who’s a pretty standard Clark but I was really happy with the linework for him, and I think the first image I’ve posted of the setting earlier, major OC: Aloysius Fox, Lucius Fox’s father, and the secret First Batman. So, full disclosure, Aloysius’s earliest versions were essentially Luke Fox in the original purple gloves costume bc I love that first costume, with the “grandpa was a secret OG superhero” angle kinda transparently lifted from Lindelof’s big Hooded Justice retcon. All of THAT is then filtered through all the weird mid-late 80s attempts to “fix” Golden Age continuity by subbing in characters like Flying Fox and Iron Munro in place of Batman and Superman. Aloysius will be more fleshed out when I get into Gotham’s headverse history and the Coney Island Justice Society stuff, but for now he’s just a cool design I like to tinker with.

Teth Atem, the Black Adam of Kahndaq, Ancient Champion of Shazam, Lost Master of the Lightning, Cream of the Garden of Eternity’s Corp, Theodore Adams of Fawcett and general multi-hyphenate. Again, I think making him bald is maybe leaning too hard into the live action version wrt The Rock (oh wait, The Rock, Rock of Eternity, that’s funny actually lol). His story role in the headverse is gonna wait until I loop back around to the Shazam Family and Thunderworld, but I love Teth and he’s definitely making into the next edit of the JL group shot lol.

Another weird re-work in the vein of FleckHodd: KRONA AS THE SPECTRE. This one I actually really liked as a concept (illustration is...fine considering I was flying through these), with the basic idea going back to Hal’s Spectre days (and partially his DKSA portrayal) combined with the Spectre’s own history of choosing hosts and turning it into a more generally cosmic entity that the weird superhero interpretation of Christian Mythology it functions as now. I kinda see the Spectre in the headverse as a step between Ion and Aya as a living expression of Willpower “energy” and Krona using his position as a host to develop the mass-produced Krona Gauntlet and later Green Lantern rings, as opposed to Spectre’s overwhelming possession aspect (and death/resurrection aspect, natch). Krona at this point in the time has probably just met or is about to meet Volthoom, so hasn’t totally wilded out, but there’s a reason Spectre still becomes known as “God’s Vengeance” in this canon.

Finally, Cor-Vex! No meta here really, Krypton retconning Jor-El’s birth name is just fascinating (and kinda funny) to me. The “II” being the giveaway that this version isn’t Jor-El, but Kal, in an alternate timeline where Jor kept the name but also has an adult son who went to Earth got superpowers. Cor-Vex II isn’t headverse canon, but Jor-El being named Cor-Vex in other realities and universes will be, with a totally original homebrew alt being the setting of a major Superman story that will let me use Mr. Oz without getting kinda weirded out that Lara was already having a bad day when her husband spontaneously transformed into an old, old man and she just died bc for whatever reason no one wants to write about Lara beyond being the tragically faithful wife and mother.

...this post is already too long (idk how much of this to even tag, it’s sort of all over the place) but Lara Lor-Van’s personal history is a particular fascination of mine too, so she’s getting some development eventually too. (Probably after I finally do that Wonder Woman post I keep mentioning and putting off)

Anyway, sorry this is a mess, been a weird week, but hopefully have more soon!

#headverse #dc #fanart #red hood #arthur fleck #ghost-maker #superman #golden age batman #aloysius fox #black adam #krona #the spectre #green lantern #cor-vex #krypton #lara lor-van #alternate timeline #this could all us an edit but I feel better just getting it all out at once

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that-little-zebunny · 3 years

Text

The Moth’s Fire

Pairing: Thomas Sharpe x Reader

Warning: A little fluffy daz all :’>

Note: This is my entry for @the-th-horniest-book-club day 21 of LUCKY IN LOVE with the word Prestige as prompt. Hope you like this.

You're doomed. Late again to another McMichael's ball. You're surely going to hear a lot from Eunice. She'll be talking endless again how she had let you in their elegant event because she was kind enough to do so and you have the nerve to be late. In your defense thought you got yourself hooked to another great book lend to you by Edith.

You like Edith more she's genuinely nice unlike the McMichael's who's only tolerating you because your family owns the city's finest clothing empire.

Which means they always had to fight tooth and nails just to be able to purchase a cloth for their ball gowns from your stores if not they'll be wearing second best. That's why even if you don’t fit their kind of friends to be with you're always invited.

You rather not attend to be honest but your mother would be furious so here you are. Wearing a beautiful red and black ball gown made of course by you family's designer you stealthily sneaked in the already crowded ballroom.

You can hear a beautiful melody playing seems like the dancing already began which is good news for you. You'll just have to wait for Eunice to brag about her new conquest and you can finally go back home to your books.

Fascinated by the beautiful music you tried to walk towards the center and walked near Allan when you saw him. You tugged on his sleeves making your presence known. He looked down at you his face turning bright as he smiled.

"Y/N! Glad to know you're able to join us." He winked knowing this is torture to you. You just pouted in response and peaked at his side to give a polite greeting to Mr. Cushing, Edith's Father.

Your eyes finally went in the two couple dancing gracefully in the middle with a lit candle in on of their clasped hands. You're amazed how the candle stayed burning with all the movements they made.

You couldn't take your eyes away from them, specially the beautiful man leading the dance as if he invented it. Their dance ended and you couldn't help but clap your hands in amazement especially when you realizes it was your friend Edith dancing. How you wish you could dance that way.

Edith turned towards his father and saw you. Her face turn brighter as you waved at her. She said something at the man she was dancing with which made him look towards you making you gasp as his eyes met yours. You shivered as you took in his beautiful green eyes. God, this man is made to make the ladies fall on his feet.

You didn't know what to do as his gaze stayed glued on your face while Edith was walking towards you. Your heart is beating wildly. You never really get noticed by the men in this event. You're too plain for their liking except the money that comes with your name.

"Y/N, I'm so glad to see you here!" Edith greeted you kissing your cheeks. "I didn't see you when I got here so I thought you tried to skip again." You both laugh at how true that is. You've tried to skip attending this events but fails as you mother always have a sharp sense of when you're planning on doing so.

"You know I can never outsmart Mother." You said.

"That is true." She said smiling warmly at you.

"You dance so wonderfully, Edith. I'm the one shocked that you attended." You said. You might not be able to skip this balls but Edith can. Her father is a really nice man.

"I was planning to but I'm smoothly brought here." She answered smiling as she look at the tall man she was dancing earlier. He's currently talking to an equally stunning lady in red gown. They were talking in a hushed way and then started walking towards your way.

"Edith, thank you for allowing me to dance with you." The man said. You felt a shiver run down your spine at his voice. Does he not have anything that makes him less attractive?

"It is. Been a while since I last danced." She said blushing a little. Your stomach turned upside down. Edith likes the man... You won’t have a chance.

"Well because it’s been a while since you attended a Ball." You awkwardly said. Edith giggled in acknowledgement of what you've said.

"-and who's this lovely friend of yours?" The man said his eyes run up and down your form as if trying to take everything in.

"Oh this is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s a dear friend of mine." Edith said, introducing you to the two stranger.

The man offered a hand and you gave yours in response. He held it and brought it to his lips kissing the top. His lips lingered longer than necessary, eyes locked on yours making you feel your face heating up.

"It is lovely to meet you Lady Y/L/N. I am Thomas Sharpe Baronet and this is my sister Lucille Sharpe." You greeted Lucille, she kissed both of your cheeks and praised your gown.

"Yours are beautiful too." You said. You can tell that it was handmade meticulously but is aged already. She's surprised by your observations. Her sharp gaze made you nervous. Luckily Eunice came by but a minute after her arrival you instantly regretted it. She tried her best to talk down about you. You’ve met Edith’s eyes lots of time knowing what Eunice is doing.

You’ve learned that Sir Thomas Sharpe and His sister are the McMichael’s special guess and you’ve taken both of their attentions and she doesn’t like that. You can also see their mother shooting daggers at you from afar.

Deciding that you’ve been there enough you said your good byes to your friends and new acquaintances. You walked towards the exit of the McMichael estate and was about to open the double door when you heard the same silky voice called your name. You turned to find Sir Thomas Walking towards you hurriedly.

“How can I be of help Sir Thomas?” You asked curious as to why he chased you all this way.

“My Sister and I are planning to going on a stroll in the park tomorrow. Would you like to join us?” He asked looking at you pleadingly with his beautiful but mysterious eyes. Biting your lower lips as you think of what answer to give him but your curiosity won over you and you nodded making a head spinning smile curve on his lips.

You gave him your address telling him you’ll be expecting them there at the time he told you. You bid your goodbye but before you’re able to turn around and leave he bend down making your heart beats wildly in your chest.

“I am so glad to have meet you tonight, Lady Y/N” He said as he place a kiss at the side of your lips.

“A-as do I.” you answered. Turning around so fast you felt light headed you walk away from him hand touching the side of your lips that his touched. Is this for real? Are you truly experiencing what the ladies in your novels felt whenever they met their forever? You cannot wait for the morning to come.

Tom Hiddleston & Characters' Taglist

@jewels2876 @jobean12-blog @lookalivefrosty @curlyred2020 taglist open

#HBC #hbc lucky in love #the th hbc #thomas sharpe imagine #thomas sharpe x reader #thomas sharpe fan fiction #sir thomas sharpe #fan fiction #crimson peak fanfiction #thomas sharpe x you #thomas sharpe fluff #zephirahnyxwrites

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illuminatedquill · 3 years

Text

Squid Game, Episode 6 Analysis

“Gganbu”

Hello again, dear reader.

My sincere apologies for the wait. I needed to fill up on light hearted stuff (basically re-watching Hometown Cha Cha Cha) before diving back into Squid Game. Especially for this episode. The infamous episode 6: Gganbu.

(A little etymology lesson for those interested: “Gganbu” isn’t actually a word in the Korean language. It’s slang, basically a made up word, that, back in the old days, meant “a close friend” or someone you made a pinky promise to.)

This is the episode that destroyed a lot of people, myself included. And I wanted to talk about it immediately after finishing the series, but then realized that I can’t write through the absolute flood of tears and emotions that were pouring out of me. So I waited for the latest episodes of Hometown Cha Cha Cha to drop, re-watched them a dozen times a piece, and then started to gather my thoughts to write this analysis.

First off, this episode - it’s a masterpiece. One of the finest hours of television I’ve ever had the privilege to watch in my entire life. The way it’s crafted, especially after the amazing teamwork showcased by our main cast in the previous episode (who knew Tug of War could be so strategic?), is meant to rip apart our assumptions about these characters and make them bleed. It spared no one and the audience felt the same as the surviving players after the game was finished as they staggered towards the exit.

We made it, but at what cost?

If, for whatever reason, you haven’t watched Squid Game or seen this episode yet, I’m going to do my usual and warn of SPOILERS incoming. You have been warned.

All right. Let’s get into it.

This is a hefty episode that did A LOT to our characters, so I’m going to break it into three parts covering our main leads and what they went through: Sae-byeok, Gi-hun, and then Sang-woo.

First, a little recap.

Coming off the high of their previous victory in the previous episode our newfound team is quickly split into pairs at the beginning of this one. The assumption is that you and a partner would be competing against other teams in the newest games.

Sang-woo pairs up with Ali, Sae-byeok pairs with Ji-yeong, and Gi-hun, being the nice guy he is, pairs up with old man Il-nam, despite knowing the potential disadvantage it puts him at.

The pairs are lead into the set which is designed to look like the streets of an old style Korean neighborhood; filled with narrow alleyways, interlocking brick passages, and fake walls resembling houses appropriate of that bygone era. The lighting inside evokes a heavy nostalgic feeling of the setting sun late afternoon - when all the kids are all out playing with their friends, right before their mothers call them in for dinner.

Il-nam and Gi-hun reminisce over the accuracy of it all, remembering their own similar neighborhoods and the friends they played with in those old alleyways. Sang-woo reassures Ali that, with them together as partners, they are sure to win against the other teams; Ali returns the sentiment whole heartedly. Sae-byeok is bemused by Ji-yeong’s willingness to partner up with her since they only met shortly before.

Each pair is given two pouches, one each. Inside are ten marbles. The game is marbles.

Gi-hun is relieved at the simplicity of the game for obvious reasons. Il-nam reassures him that he knows the game, too, and together they plan to sweep the other teams of their marbles. Il-nam, grinning, names Gi-hun his “gganbu” - a friend in the neighborhood that you share your marbles and everything else with. They even do a pinky promise.

And then the rules of the game are announced.

We see our players hearts drop and then shatter - we, the viewers, feel ours do the same.

“In this game, using your ten marbles, you will compete with your partner. The player who takes all ten marbles from your partner wins. Let me repeat. Using your ten marbles, you will compete with your partner. The player who takes all ten marbles from your partner wins.”

The timer ticks down from thirty minutes. And our main leads are forced to decide.

Who lives, who dies, who tells your story . . .

Sae-byeok, Gi-hun, and Sang-woo are all laid bare and revealed in their entirety for this episode. We’ve seen glimpses of them in prior episodes, but it’s here in this episode that we really see these three for who they are, as defined by the people who die for them - and the choices they make that lead to that.

Lots of pain coming up. Brave heart, everyone. Let’s get into it.

Sae-byeok and Ji-yeong: SACRIFICE

With the timer ticking down, Sae-byeok and Ji-yeong sit down to mull over what game to play.

It’s obvious that neither of them are in any particular hurry to do so, due to the life or death stakes of the game, and also because both are hit hard with revelation that they have to compete against each other. Despite having known each other for such a short time, there’s a clear bond between the two young women - they could have been friends were the circumstances different.

Ji-yeong suggest to Sae-byeok that they end the game in one round, betting everything. She doesn’t want to prolong the inevitable like the other teams. Sae-byeok agrees and asks what she wants to play. Ji-yeong puts off that decision, teasing that Sae-byeok seems to be in a rush to kill her.

Seeing as though one of them is going to die, Ji-yeong decides that she wants to spend most of the remaining time just talking about themselves. There’s no reason to feel embarassed, she says, since one of them will be taking the other’s secrets to the grave (literally).

We find out Sae-byeok’s backstory: she and her family defected from North Korea but only Sae-byeok and her little brother made it - her father was shot while trying to cross a river and her mother was captured by public security officers in China, then sent back. Ji-yeong asks her if she finds life in South Korea to be better and, well, Sae-byeok’s bitter silence is all the answer we need.

Ji-yeong then asks what Sae-byeok will do with the money if she wins. Sae-byeok replies that she’ll buy a house to live with her brother and then bring her mother from the North. Ji-yeong points out that there has to be something else she wants to do since that won’t take all the money, to which Sae-byeok replies that she wishes to visit Jeju Island.

Ji-yeong accepts that but still teases Sae-byeok that she needs to dream bigger like going to Hawaii.

“When we get out of here, I should teach you how people splurge in the South.”

Sae-byeok doesn’t answer that and it takes Ji-yeong a full second to realize what she said.

It’s interesting, isn’t it? How quickly the bond is developing between these two. It’s a testament to both these actresses that we believe how close they’ve come since Ji-yeong was introduced two episodes ago. One of the best (horrible) things about this episode is it forces our characters to slow down after the non-stop desperate action and decision making they were forced to do in previous episodes. There’s nowhere to hide, no one you can turn to for help, not really much strategizing (the game is marbles after all) that can be done. It’s arguably the worst game in the entire series simply because most of the players paired up with someone they felt close with. And now they have to compete against each other.

With ten minutes remaining, the players begin to be eliminated. Ji-yeong asks Sae-byeok if she’s ever seen a dead body before. She replies with a tale about how a plague spread through her town and the bodies piled up day after day and were burned eventually. Ji-yeong responds with her own tale: her first dead body was her mother’s, her father standing over it with a knife in his hand.

The next dead body was her father’s, this time with Ji-yeong standing over it, knife in hand. When she came out of prison, someone was waiting for her - a salesman from the Squid Game. So she came here, with nowhere else to go. Ji-yeong admits that she hasn’t thought what she would do with the money if she made it out.

She asks Sae-byeok if they should go to Jeju together. Sae-byeok, again, doesn’t answer. Ji-yeong realizes her slip up a second faster but it’s too late.

Although Sae-byeok is the one we were interested in, we do get brief snippets from Ji-yeong and it paints a devastatingly tragic picture. Abused by her father for so long, who killed her mother, probably the only person she cared about and who cared for her, and then she finally took revenge - only to be cast into prison for doing so. Instead of caring for her and helping her heal, she was punished. And now, she’s becoming more fond of Sae-byeok, who chose her on a whim (”You looked like someone who would follow me”). Sae-byeok is probably the closest thing she’s had to a friend for who knows how long.

And the way she devotes herself to Sae-byeok when they partner up for this game:

Ji-yeong: “I’ll make sure you’ll win.”

Sae-byeok: “How? What will you do?”

Ji-yeong: “Whatever it takes.”

It’s not healthy by any account, but it’s all Ji-yeong has after so long. And she decides to commit, for better or worse.

With the timer closing in on zero, Ji-yeong and Sae-byeok decide to finally play.

The game is simple. Whoever can throw their marble closer to the wall in front of them wins.

Both partners reveal their names to each other - and then make the toss. Sae-byeok goes first, gets pretty close. Then it’s Ji-yeong’s turn.

We see her step up, but the audience - and Ji-yeong - already know what she’s going to do: whatever it takes to help Sae-byeok win.

After brief consideration, she lets the marble fall limply from her fingers - and with it, her life.

Sae-byeok instantly advances on her, outraged.

Sae-byeok: What are you doing?

Ji-yeong: I lost.

Sae-byeok: What do you think you’re doing?

Ji-yeong: The marble just slipped.

Sae-byeok: Is this what you meant by making sure I’ll win? Do you think I’ll be grateful? Throw it again.

Ji-yeong: Even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to win anyway. Just let me lose in style.

Sae-byeok: Stop acting cool and just throw it again!

Ji-yeong: I have nothing.

Sae-byeok: What?

Ji-yeong: You have a reason to leave this place. But I don’t. I’ve been thinking about what I should do once I get out since you asked me. But no matter how much I think, I can’t think of one. Someone who has a good reason should leave. That’s the right thing. Make sure you leave this place alive. And . . . meet your mom, bring your brother back, and go to Jeju Island too.

With the game over, Sae-byeok wins and heads for the exit - but not before Ji-yeong calls to her, using her name for the first and last time.

“Thanks for playing with me,” she says with a sad smile.

The gun aims at her head. A gloved finger pulls at the trigger.

“Player 240, eliminated.”

Sacrifice is a powerful act of kindness and love from one human being to another - probably the most powerful and selfless thing we can do for another person. To give up on something we want in exchange for someone else - whether it be a dream, a material possession, a job, a relationship - is an extremely hard act to do.

Sae-byeok and Ji-yeong barely knew each other. How they met, where they met, wasn’t exactly the best setting to help foster a growing friendship or anything more they could have been. The structure of the Squid Game is to break people’s ties to one another - to have them claw at their humanity, break their hearts, become monsters towards one another all for the chance of a huge payday, to be free from the hell of their financial burdens and crushing debt back in the real world.

And yet, we have these quiet moments of humanity. Of decency, of kindness, of reaching out to someone else because it’s the right and good thing to do. Even when it puts your own life at risk. Gi-hun does with the Il-nam, as I pointed out earlier. He chooses the old man, knowing that it puts his chances of surviving at risk. We see time and time again, this peek at Gi-hun’s heart - that despite him being a colossal screw up, he remains a decent, kind hearted person at his core.

And we see that same heart beating in Ji-yeong when she lays her life down for Sae-byeok. A girl she just met, who she doesn’t even know Sae-byeok’s name until the end, who she hasn’t even had a full length conversation with until now. A girl that she dreams of travelling with, until the harsh reality they’re trapped in burns that into ash. Ji-yeong rapidly becomes aware of her growing attachment to Sae-byeok throughout this episode and it’s evident in the little “slips” she has; Sae-byeok doesn’t invite her to Jeju Island or even offers a friendship outside of the game but Ji-yeong can’t help insert herself into whatever life Sae-byeok might have after winning.

Almost is such a tragic word. She almost made it. They were almost friends.

For Sae-byeok, who has had to live a harsh life under the direction and tutelage of gangsters, this act of kindness burns to her core. Someone she barely knows does the ultimate act of love and compassion for her. We see the consequences of Ji-yeong’s sacrifice in the following episode, when she starts to look out for Gi-hun.

This is the moment when it stops being a game for Sae-byeok.

This is the moment when she starts to care. Not just for herself but for others. Like Gi-hun.

Real fear sinks in for her because now someone else she’s grown attached to might die.

And they might die for her.

This is the moment that broke Kang Sae-byeok. She’s been doing her best to remain distant from everyone until now, when Ji-yeong’s lifeless body falls to the ground and any illusion of remaining aloof and emotionally unscathed falls with her.

And, God, how it hurts. Because that is what it means to care. To open yourself up to the risk of heartbreak. And in Squid Game, to open yourself to the risk of death.

But these players did it anyway. Because not even the game could strip that away from them in the end. Because some things are right and good and should be done no matter the cost.

Because you can’t afford to not do it. Not when the cost is your own humanity.

Ji-yeong cared. Sae-byeok cared. Gi-hun cared. At the end of it all, no matter how the games tried to dehumanize them, they were still people, they were still kind, and they still CARED.

Gi-hun and Il-Nam: GGANBU

Let’s rewind to the beginning.

Gi-hun immediately realizes the moral dilemma he’s in after the rules are announced. His choice of Il-nam as partner, despite having the best of intentions, is backfiring on him spectacularly - he now has to compete against an elderly man with dementia in a children’s game of marbles. More importantly, he has to win against said man and take all his marbles, thus consigning him to death.

Gi-hun has grown close to the older man, especially since his strategy in the last game lead to their team’s survival. But, more importantly, Gi-hun is simply just worried since Il-nam’s condition is already precarious because of the tumor in his head. Any other player would deem Il-nam a liability (rightfully so) because of his age, not to mention his dementia.

Gi-hun, however, is not a regular player. Since the beginning, we see him as the oddball leader of his group and he draws in players that others would deem as weaker or inferior - Ali, the foreigner; Sae-byeok, the female former gangster; Il-nam, the oldest player; and Sang-woo, plain and unassuming. There’s a reason why they chose him as the leader for the Tug of War.

Gi-hun’s greatest strength - and weakness - is his kindness. People just trust him. Ali, Sae-byeok, Il-nam, and even calculating Sang-woo - they can’t help themselves and are drawn in. They know he’s genuinely a good person.

But, as we’ve known since the beginning, there is a shadier aspect of Gi-hun. He’s a gambling addict, an absent father, with a streak of deception that serves him well when evading loan sharks. And the games are designed to break even the noblest of people. Gi-hun is no saint.

And this particular game breaks him like no other.

His partnership with Il-nam represents the idea of “Gganbu” the best, in my opinion, since he and Il-nam have a genuine friendship inside the game. Sae-byeok and Ji-yeong, despite their connection, barely know each other; Sang-woo and Ali are lopsided in their relationship dynamic, since Sang-woo has helped out Ali previously.

As the timer ticks down, Gi-hun shoves down any notion of self-respect he might have and forces himself - and Il-nam - to play the game.

This is easier said than done, since Il-nam’s dementia seems to be in full force. He wanders absent-mindedly throughout the “neighborhood” and reminisces on a childhood long past; Gi-hun chases after him, desperate to start playing but at the same time loathing what he has to do.

He doesn’t want to hurt his friend.

However, his desperation and frustration mount steadily throughout the episode, despite his pleas to get Il-nam’s attention. He finally reaches his breaking point and grabs the older man, shoving him against the wall.

Gi-hun: Will you please pull yourself together?! If we stay like this, we’ll both die! You probably don’t care since you have the tumor in your head, but I have to get out of here alive. I have to stay alive and get the heck out of here!

Il-nam: (weakly) Stop yelling at me. I’ll play with you.

Gi-hun realizes what he’s done and sobs.

As they start to play at last, Gi-hun’s relief quickly turns to horror as the older man begins to beat him in the game. With time running out, he’s soon down to his last marble.

Gi-hun bets one last time - and loses. As he faces the inevitability of his death, Il-nam’s dementia returns once again and he forgets the outcome of this last bet.

And Gi-hun - oh, Gi-hun. We see the wheels turn in his eyes, the slow realization of what just happened - and how he can take advantage of this to still win.

We see the slow death of his humanity; any self-respect he had is slowly crumbling, turning to dust. Self-hatred takes its place. But, nevertheless . . .

He takes Il-nam’s marble.

And this goes on. And on. The outcome is the same. When Gi-hun loses, he asks Il-nam the same question again and again:

“But what did you say?”

And poor Il-nam immediately questions himself. “What did I say?”

Gi-hun offers the answer: the same one again and again, that ensures his win.

If Sae-byeok’s partner revealed her humanity, then Gi-hun’s revealed his ugly side: his willingness to take advantage of someone weaker than him for personal gain. I put no blame on Gi-hun for this - it’s the games and the people behind them that are the true villains in this story. He was doing this to survive. I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same and neither would you.

Gi-hun’s part in this story is to show how a good person can be corrupted. How they can be pushed to edge and convinced to fall.

As more players are eliminated, the clock ticks closer to zero. The toll of Gi-hun’s deception is showing on him but he grimly continues on, despite the wailing of his conscience.

Il-nam suddenly asks Gi-hun what the date is.

Il-nam: The 24th of this month is my son’s birthday. I was going to buy him a toy robot for his birthday. But I completely forgot and didn’t get him anything last year. Ah, right. What did you say?

Oh, how Gi-hun breaks at this anecdote. He’s surely thinking of his own daughter and his own promise to get her something nice for her birthday.

Oh, how his face trembles when he takes Il-nam’s last marble.

Because he still has to win. He has to survive.

Three minutes left. Il-nam has lost his last marble. Feebly he asks Gi-hun if he can borrow one marble from him.

Gi-hun’s hand closes into a fist over his pouch. He says he can’t.

And then -

Il-nam finds one last marble. Gi-hun scrambles to count the marbles - nineteen. One short.

As he looks up, Il-nam is already wandering off again, lost in his memories. Gi-hun gives chase, seeing the timer tick, tick, tick down.

Il-nam arrives at one of the buildings and recognizes it as his house where he lived with his family. Gi-hun goes inside with him, begging that he play one last time. But Il-nam isn’t listening; he’s too far gone in his memories.

Gi-hun seizes him and pleads one last time to come to his senses.

And he does.

Il-nam: Why don’t we play one more round betting everything we have?

Gi-hun: What?

Il-nam: I’ll bet everything I have. You bet everything you have too.

Gi-hun: What do you mean?

Il-nam: We’re going to bet everything you have and everything I have. That’s only fair.

Gi-hun: Are you telling me to bet everything I have for that one marble?

Il-nam; (Nods)

Gi-hun: What kind of nonsense is this?! That makes no sense!

Il-nam: Then does fooling me and taking my marbles make sense?

There’s the knife. And Il-nam twists and turns it in Gi-hun with deft expertness. He was aware the whole time that Gi-hun was tricking him.

Gi-hun looks away in shame. And then Il-nam does something remarkable.

He gives Gi-hun his last marble.

Il-nam: It’s yours. We’re gganbu, aren’t we? Don’t you remember? We made a pinky promise to be each other’s gganbu. And when you’re gganbu with another, you share everything. Thank you for everything. Thanks to you, I had a good time before I go. It’s all right. Everything will be all right.

If you’ve seen the finale, you’ll know that his actions and words here are foreshadowing Il-nam’s real role in the series. And looking at this scene now, it hurts in a different way knowing who the old man really is and what he’s done.

But. In a way, he really did help Gi-hun. Unknowingly, but he re-affirmed Gi-hun’s faith in people, at a time when he was at his lowest.

I said earlier that Gi-hun’s part in this story is to show how good people can be corrupted. How they can be pushed to the edge and convinced to fall.

But, more importantly, Gi-hun shows how they can climb back. Because at the end, because Il-nam did this, he is reminded that people do care. That they can be good against all reason.

Someone does care. It doesn’t matter how far you stray from the light, you can always find your way back.

Sang-woo and Ali: BETRAYAL

Once more with feeling.

Sang-woo, I know, sparks a lot of debate with his actions. Some of you hate him, some of you love him - I’m not in either particular spectrum. I find his character interesting, his actions loathsome, but again, in the backdrop of Squid Game completely understandable. He did terrible things before entering the game, taking advantage of his clients and stealing their money, but all in the name of providing for his mom.

Ali doesn’t spark the same debate. He is a king, first and foremost. Our first introduction to him is a badass scene where he saves Gi-hun, our main guy, from certain death in the first game. He’s the most pure hearted out of the group and the only time we see him violent is taking retribution against his boss for withholding his money. He has a family to provide for.

Ali takes an immediate liking to Sang-woo after he meets him outside the games and Sang-woo buys him food and then pays for his taxi to another city. This bond is further strengthened when Sang-woo leads him and their team to victory during the Tug of War.

So we know that, deep down, Sang-woo is not a bad person.

But he does do bad things. And this is the episode where he completely frees himself of his shackles of morality to do more bad things. It starts here.

It starts with betrayal. And then the justification of that betrayal. It’s a slippery slope when you start to justify the bad things you’ve done - but Sang-woo, he doesn’t just slide. He fully commits and dives off that slope.

You never see the knife coming from the person closest to you, as poor Ali finds out. He puts all his faith in Sang-woo, trusting that he’ll see them safely through this next game, only to have his trust exploited for the other man’s benefit.

After the rules are announced, Sang-woo and Ali are shocked. But Sang-woo shakes it off and grimly pushes ahead. He’s thinking, as always, that there must be some way out of this, for both of them to survive - but, for now, they have to play the game.

Sang-woo: Let’s do this.

Ali: That means one of us will die.

Sang-woo: Then do you want to stand around and die together? Or will you die on my behalf?

Ah, Sang-woo. You don’t know how right you are in that last bit. It’s just that Ali isn’t going to die on your behalf on his own choice. You made that choice for him.

Sang-woo teaches Ali the rules of the game, just like the good guy he is. He’s smart, knows his math - he has a 50/50 chance of winning, just like Ali. It’s fair.

Except Ali keeps winning.

Sang-woo barely maintains his calm, even when Ali asks to play with someone else - anyone else, because he doesn’t want to cause the death of his friend. Sang-woo just snarls at him to keep playing.

Sang-woo eventually gets down to his last marble. And his fear, his paranoia snaps whatever semblance of sanity he had left and he turns rabid on Ali.

Sang-woo: You bastard. You’re cheating, aren’t you?

Ali: Sang-woo, what are you talking about?

Sang-woo: How come you keep winning? The odds of winning are 50-50. This situation makes absolutely no sense!

Ali: No, I didn’t do anything!

Sang-woo: You jerk. You deceived me pretending to know nothing about it! You said you’ve never done this before! What did you do? Tell me!

Always reasonable, always calculating, always a step ahead of everyone - Sang-woo absolutely loses it. His reason cannot stand that this kid is beating him, despite the chances being 50-50. His reason is whispering, putting poison in his veins, putting ice in his heart, that Ali lied to him, that he’s tricking him and somehow cheating at this game. He goes feral and, like an animal, corners Ali who is only saved by the watchful guard nearby. No violence allowed.

There’s no strategy here. That’s what is really getting at Sang-woo. He can’t outthink this one. It’s all on random luck and, right now, he doesn’t have any.

But that doesn’t stop him. Oh, no.

Sang-woo makes his own luck. And what do you know, he does find a strategy.

Don’t play the game, play the player.

After being stopped the guard, Sang-woo begs for his life. And, poor Ali, who cares for Sang-woo cannot help but listen to his friend’s pleas.

Sang-woo: I’m sorry, Ali. I took you wrong. But I can’t die like this. If I die here, my entire family will die too.

Ali: I’m sorry, Sang-woo. I’m so sorry but I have a family too.

Sang-woo: Hey, Ali. If you help me, there’s a way both of us could live. You got this far all thanks to me! I gave you the bus fare, my plan helped you survive the Tug of War, we kept watch at night together, and just before the game, we promised to leave here together, didn’t we?

Ali: (Nods)

Sang-woo: So, please. Please trust me this once and help me. Please?

Ali: . . . What’s your plan?

What a performance. All of it perfectly designed to break Ali’s resolve and prey upon his kindness and trust in his friend. First off, Sang-woo’s lie: that if he dies, his entire family will die too.

His only family consists of his mother and she’s in no physical danger last I checked.

When that doesn’t work, Sang-woo presents Ali with a plan. When he doesn’t bite at that, he quickly turns to rage and guilt-tripping. “You got this far because of me!” And then comes the list of everything they did together, of how much Ali owes Sang-woo.

Some people say that this is the most despicable moment for Sang-woo in the show. I have my own personal opinion that that moment takes place earlier during the second game and it’s the clearest indicator of Sang-woo’s character before his betrayal of Ali.

It’s when he chooses not to tell Gi-hun what the second game is. It’s such a small thing that doesn’t involve quite the personal high stakes like this game does; if he had told Gi-hun what the game was he would have survived and others would still have died. The amount of money would have increased regardless. Gi-hun is his friend, right? What’s one less dead person when the money is already increasing by a ridiculous amount?

But he didn’t. He wanted that extra money, even if it meant that Gi-hun would die because of it.

That moment gets overshadowed because he teams up with everyone for the big fight and then the Tug-of-War game but that’s because it was advantageous to do so. Sang-woo is all about the advantage and here, in the marbles game, he doesn’t have one.

So he puts Ali at a disadvantage.

I’m not going to go further into how he does it, but Sang-woo tricks Ali into giving him all his marbles. And it’s not until the end that Ali realizes how badly he’s been deceived.

If our other two leads are about realizing that there’s more at stake than just money (their humanity) than Sang-woo is realizing that to win at this game, your humanity is just another price to pay. He’s not entirely immune to his actions - they do take a toll on him, despite his continued justification for the increasingly dark decisions he does.

It’s not until the end that he realizes how much he’s lost. And that he can never go back, no matter how hard he tries. I know that seems to go against what I said earlier regarding Gi-hun but what I said about him and what I said about Sang-woo are both true.

It’s just that they’re different types of people. Gi-hun, fundamentally, is a good person. Sang-woo just wasn’t bad. But he wasn’t good, either.

And both of them made a choice. Choice is so important in Squid Game - and in life, too. You may think it doesn’t matter when the decisions you have to make are terrible on way or the other - but you still have to choose.

Gi-hun chose to be better.

Sang-woo did not.

Ali brought out the best in Sang-woo and when he betrayed him, he betrayed himself. And look where it got him.

Final Thoughts:

There are other shows that do a similar premise to Squid Game.

Some people may tell you that those shows are better - less heavy handed, more subtle with their storytelling and character dynamics.

If someone asks you why you think Squid Game is better, I suggest you tell them this: it’s the acting.

It is god-tier. We have nine (9!) short hours with these characters and their relationships and it shouldn’t work but, by God, does it not only work, it elevates an already near perfect drama into a whole other higher level of entertainment.

Everyone - EVERYONE - brought their A game to this. There was no weak link. Gi-hun, Sae-byeok, Sang-woo, Ali, Il-nam, everyone else - the reason why we talk so much about this show and it’s characters is because of the actors. All the awards and respect goes to them and the production crew behind this amazing show.

Anyway, I hope you all liked reading this ridiculously long post. I’m kind of rambling by the end of this because it’s super late. If you have any thoughts or comments of your own, feel free to say so! Always love to hear what others think. This show is so good for discussion.

Until next time, everyone!

#squid game #kdrama #netflix #jung ho yeon #kang sae byeok #cho sang woo #park hae soo #seong gi hun #lee jung jae #ji-yeong #lee yoo mi #abdul ali #anupam tripathi #oh il nam #o yeong su

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shewillreadyou · 3 years

Text

Being: Chapter 2-Back at one

As always. I hope that you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

A/N: This is the answer to my very FIRST ASK!!!

Also, this is the long awaited 2nd chapter to my new TRR series “Being” it will follow Liam and Karis on their adventures as monarchs and new parents. I think it should be sweet. Thank you to @secretaryunpaid for pre-reading part of this chapter and being a HUGE inspiration.

Disclaimers: Most characters are property of Pixelberry

Warnings: If you are under 18 please, just don’t. Language, adult content and some NSFW.

Word Count: 4100 ish

Catch up: Chapter 1

Pairings: Liam x MC (Queen Karis Rose Vasquez-Rhys)

Song inspiration: Back at One- Brian McKnight

Be Kind: Hit the heart button, leave a comment or reblog. It makes a writer so so happy.

Months had passed since their fairytale wedding and romantic honeymoon. They had returned to face the music concerning their pregnancy. Ana De Luca, a long time acquaintance of the crown had paid a paparazzi for private photos of Karis laying on the beach with her growing bump exposed. Adonis agreed to give her the exclusive in return for the pictures and a bit more time to announce their big news on their own terms.

The day had come for the press conference. The PR team for the royals only told the press that their monarchs had big news to share. Security at Valtoria was so airtight that only people on a short list were allowed on the grounds. The press was only allowed for the announcement and had a short time thereafter to vacate the premises. Adonis arranged for a team of stylists to make sure his queen was presentable for this potentially stressful day. Karis was carrying their heir in her hips. Her bump was still modest for someone 8 months along. Perez, the designer responsible for her wedding dress and his seamstress Enoch, dressed her in an off the shoulder, floor length, royal blue gown that hugged her curves.

Adonis was sure his heart skipped a beat when he laid eyes on his bride. She was sitting at the vanity inside their bedroom putting on the blue sapphire and diamond earrings he gifted her for Christmas. “Love, I have no words,” he said as he kissed her cheek, not daring to ruin the makeup that had taken nearly an hour to perfect. “It’s time,” he announced as he took her hand. “Both Kenyon and I will be by your side the entire time. I will make the announcement and we will take a few questions from the press before the celebration.”

Kenyon was posted outside her door. He smiled at Karis before clearing his throat. “Your maaajesty! You look--“ Liam scowled at Kenyon who immediately trained his eyes forward. “Appropriate for the occasion. You look very appropriate.” Karis laughed as Adonis brooded. They headed down to the grand ballroom, where they had a photo shoot with Ana, capturing the momentous occasion. When they were done they joined the press on the east lawn.

Royal trumpeters played before the royal crier announced, “Their Majesties, King Liam and Queen Karis Rhys of Cordonia.” Karis’ hand rested in the crook of his arm as he escorted her to the podium. He looked deeply into her eyes, and her nerves seemed to settle. “People of Cordonia, before I took our queen as my bride, she was made aware of her responsibilities as she serves in this role. She has humbly trained under Queen mother Regina not only soaking up her role and responsibilities, but our culture. I had no doubt that she would be the queen that Cordonia needed. She had, even during our engagement, stepped up to the plate and excelled far beyond what I could have hoped or asked of her.

I am aware that some have noticed that her majesty has been missing from the public as of late. Today, we have gathered here on the same grounds where my parents made this same announcement many years ago. Without further ado, Queen Karis and I would like to announce the coming of the royal heir to the throne of Cordonia.” Karis stepped from behind the podium resting her left hand on her bump to wave at the crowd. The news was met with a rapturous applause, whistling and cheers.

The afternoon was filled with congratulatory fluff, indulgent food, and schmoozing with Cordonia’s upper crust. As promised, Kenyon didn’t leave Karis’ side. When she had her fill, per usual, Adonis was nowhere to be found. After fruitlessly searching the estate for her King, Kenyon escorted Karis to the master suite. She rested her swollen feet on the chaise lounge. “Is there anything I can get for you or help you with, ma’am?” Karis shook her head. “Kenyon, I have told you a million times, you can call me Karis in private. And since you asked, yes. Can you please help me out of these heels? They are pretty but they stopped being comfy hours ago.” Kenyon hesitantly approached.

He gently pulled her swollen feet into his lap. After removing one sandal, Karis noticed a bulge in his pants. She didn’t think much of it, he had never said or done anything inappropriate, as his large hands fumbled with the buckle on the second one. The door opened and Adonis entered the room; his eye immediately fell upon Kenyon kneeling in front of Karis. “There you a-- what is the meaning of this?” Kenyon stood abruptly, Karis’ foot falling to the floor, but before he could speak, “I couldn’t find you love, and my feet are killing me. Kenyon was just being helpful.” Adonis looked between Kenyon and his very pregnant wife. “Thank you for your-- help, Kenyon but I got it from here,” Adonis said dismissively. “Of course, sir, I’ll be right outside if you need me, Karis,” Kenyon said as he exited the room.

Adonis gathered some pillows that were arranged on the bench at the foot of their bed. “Fuck you mean? And just why would she need you? I’m here,” he mumbled under his breath. “What’s that love?” she asked as he propped her feet on the pillows. “Nothing, the next time your feet hurt, call me,” he instructed as he poured himself a bourbon. She laughed. “Promise.” He put the tumbler down and disappeared into the closet. “I was just saying good evening to some of our guests, you know?”

When he returned he was carrying her favorite nightgown. He walked into the master ensuite before Karis heard bath water running. “Helpful my ass,” he muttered as he removed his cufflinks, placing them on the dresser. Karis watched as he undressed in the midst of his tantrum. His shirt fell off of his muscular shoulders and Karis’ breath hitched. Her eyes widened when his trousers fell to the floor. He approached her wearing nothing but his boxer briefs.He extended his hand, “come love, it’s bath time.”

He led her into the ensuite where he unzipped her gown, cursing quietly as it pooled on the marble floor. “Karis, you are a whole lotta woman,” he whispered in her ear as he unhooked her bra. Her full perky breast sprung free as he watched in the mirror. She shimmied out of her panties before he helped her into the full tub. She looked at him with hooded eyes. “Is there something on your mind, Adonis?” He slipped out of his underwear and into the tub. “I’m just thinking, maybe we should restructure the guards. Maybe, I can put Mara on you and maybe Kenyon would do better with Regina.”

“Wait, Mara the one who was supposed to be guarding Regina when she was kidnapped? Where did these thoughts come from?” Adonis pulled her foot out of the water as he began to massage her. “I think he is too comfortable with you, too familiar. Since when did he start calling you Karis?” She knitted her eyebrows together. “When I asked him to call me Karis. I spend a lot of time with him. It’s weird for him to call me Ma’am. Tell me you’re not jealous?” Adonis smiled smugly, “Of your guard? Ha!” he threw his head back in laughter. “Well, it seems that way.” She bit her lip, and batted her eyelashes as he took her big toe into his mouth circling it with his tongue before releasing it with a pop. “I am the KING of Cordonia, I have my health, wealth, and the finest woman walking this earth carrying my heir. Remind me again why I would be jealous of your guard?” She smirked. “Exactly,” she said as she attempted and failed miserably at getting out of the tub on her own.

Adonis grabbed her wrist pulling her soapy body down into his lap. “Hey, you know what? I’m sorry, I was out of line,” he swept her hair to the side exposing her neck before kissing it gently. “Do you forgive me?” His husky voice, his breath tickling her neck and the way his chest vibrated as he was pressed up against her back made it all but impossible to say no. “No,” she said it anyway. “Please,” he pleaded in a sensual whisper. “Forgive me Karis,” he growled. She bit her bottom lip and shook her head, no before she shifted in his lap. She felt his erection nearly impale her. She couldn’t help but think how easy it would be to get into reverse cowgirl right there in the tub. He started to roll his hips slowly as he apologized in different languages. “Scusa...Es tut uns leid...Pardon...Gomen’ nasai… Joesonghabnida...Lo siento,” he whispered into her hair.

His large hands began to knead her shoulders. Her eyes closed and her head fell back to rest on his shoulder. It felt heavenly, her soft mewing encouraged him. “I don’t get it, you are always so confident in everything you do,” she panted. He kissed her exposed neck gently as his hand moved down her torso and around her swollen belly into the water. “You still don’t get it, do you? I found my kryptonite,” he said as he cupped warm water in his hand and poured it over her belly. “You’re my kryptonite, Karis Rhys. The thought of some other man touching you, even looking at you, if only to help remove your shoe; it drives me to distraction. It certainly cracks my unyielding confidence.” She smiled, flattered by his words.

Her life to this point still seems like a dream. From meeting him at work, to spending that first night at her place with him. Losing him as suddenly as they connected. Reconnecting in Paris. The first time they made love, him buying the house in DC. The proposal in Paris, and their fairytale wedding. They have certainly had a whirlwind romance. He had been perfect, except she knew that no one is perfect. He was close. His hand gently slid across her thigh and found her center. He caressed her bundle of nerves before sliding into her as much as she could take. He tried his best to remind her with every thrust who she belonged to, her whimpers confirmed that she was fully aware.

The next few weeks seemed to fly by, Karis could be found putting away freshly laundered baby clothes, arranging diapers and wipes into the basket below the changing table, or fussing over the crib bedding. Adonis did everything in his power to keep her off her feet. She usually waited until he was in his morning meetings before heading into the nursery. She had scrubbed the kitchen, in their quarters, and dusted the newly decorated living, dining area.

When he returned from his meeting with the counsel, he found her vacuuming their bedroom. “Babygirl, what are you doing?” His voice boomed over the sound of the vacuum. She jumped before turning it off. “Karis, baby, my queen. We have talked about this. We have staff that can do this for you. You are supposed to be resting.” She waddled over to him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “I am tired of lying in bed. I was trying to kill time before the new chapter of Foreign Affairs releases on the Choices app. Blaine is so hot,” she giggled as she fanned herself.

“I’m hotter,” he said as he walked his wife over to the bed. Instead of helping her lay down, his large hand splayed across her back gently bending her over the plush bedding. His other hand traveled up the soft smooth skin of her leg. Her silk nightgown gathered at her waist as he freed himself from his trousers. Just when she took a deep breath anticipating him entering her, he dropped to his knees to taste her. Within minutes her orgasm was within reach. “Adonis, I’m close,” she panted. His long digit joined his tongue in pursuit of her pleasure. She gasped before her body started to gently shake. He waited patiently as she rode out her first of three orgasms she would experience that afternoon.

When they were done, she was exhausted. His mission was accomplished. He hoped that she would sleep until he returned from his afternoon meeting in Fydelia. Kenyon was posted outside of her door. He had just returned from lunch when the King departed. It was like any other afternoon. Kenyon always took his lunch when he saw Liam “checking in” on Karis. It was always hard to look either of them in the eye afterward. Karis woke a couple hours after Adonis left with mild stomach discomfort. She drank the water that he had sent to her side table and turned on her side, which was the advice from Dr. Dameron the last time this happened.

She felt better a short time later. She smiled at Kenyon sheepishly as he shook his head. She was creeping down to the nursery. She wanted to make sure that the new packages that arrived had been put away. She didn’t think much of it, she would be back in bed before Adonis returned. Kenyon sat in the recliner on her insistence that he took a load off. She dropped a pair of baby socks that rolled under the chaise lounge. “I’ll get that,” he offered. “No, I can pick up a pair of socks,” she insisted. When she reached for the socks she didn’t feel anything. She got on her knees feeling triumphant when she located them under the lounge. She held the tiny grey socks in her hand as she attempted to get up from the floor. “See! I’m not helpless!” She stood proud of herself, while Kenyon chuckled at her theatrics.

Suddenly, a gush of warm fluid rushed down her leg. She looked at Kenyon with a look of horror on her face. “This can’t be happening. Adonis is not here. It’s a few weeks too soon.” Kenyon immediately stood taking control of the situation. “What happened?” She clutched her belly, taking a deep cleansing breath, “my water broke.” Once the initial shock wore off, Kenyon called the doctor as they rehearsed, before calling Liam. The phone went straight to voicemail. “Sir, this is Kenyon. It’s time. Dr. Dameron instructed us to head to the hospital immediately. I will try calling back once we are in route.” His next call was to Alexsei, Karis’ driver. “Alpha Rabbit has commenced. Meet me out front in 3 minutes.” He ended the call and turned to Karis, “look at me. We have gone over this. You are ready. Your bag is already in the truck.”

He moved to her side and she wrapped her arm around his shoulder for support. He flung the strap to her purse over his shoulder as they headed towards the stairs. She struggled to walk, stopping every few yards for a contraction. “If I’m not being too forward Ma’am, may I?” She nodded her head and Kenyon swept her into his arms, carrying her bridal style out to the truck.

“Where is Adonis?” she asked as she riffled through her purse with tears running down her face. “He’s at a meeting in Fydelia. His phone went to voicemail when I called. I left a message. I will try calling again.”

Karis took deep breaths like they taught her in the private child birthing lessons Adonis insisted on her attending. The pains had begun to come closer together and stronger with each instance. In between contractions she fruitlessly attempted to reach her husband. She wiped the tears from her eyes before Kenyon turned to her. “Everything is going to be ok, Ma’am.” She reached across the seat and patted the top of Kenyon’s hand flashing him a strained smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

21 minutes later they still hadn’t heard from Adonis. They were met at the private entrance of the hospital by a team of nurses who helped her into a wheelchair, and took her inside to the grand nursing suite where Liam was born 31 years earlier. Kenyon stood watch at the door while Karis gave a urine sample and changed into a silk hospital gown. They got her settled into bed and asked her if they could get her anything. Karis was terrified and alone. She kept thinking about how Adonis scolded her for allowing Kenyon to help her when she couldn’t find him.

There was a knock at the door that tore her from her thoughts. “Come in.” Kenyon entered the room with his hands over his eyes which were clenched tightly closed. “Good news Karis, I was able to get in touch with King Liam. He’s on the way.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Kenyon. You can uncover your eyes. I am covered.” He dropped his hand and slowly opened his eyes. “Are you, uhh comfortable? Did they do the back thing?” She looked at him, confused. “You mean an epidural?” He smiled sheepishly. “Yes, that’s what it’s called. It made my sister feel a lot better when my niece was born.” Just then another contraction started and she reached for his hand. He nervously looked over to the door before offering his hand. She squeezed his hand while breathing through the momentary pain. “I guess this means you didn’t get the drugs?”

When it was done she looked at him. “How long before Liam gets here? I’m scared, Kenyon. The contractions are getting closer and closer. I don’t want to have this baby alone.” His heart sank. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he was over an hour away in Fydelia. His eyes must have given it away, her eyes went from sad to panicked. “Kenyon, I know this is a lot to ask, but if he doesn’t make it here on time, will you stay with me?” He swallowed thickly considering what she just asked. He reached over and offered her tissue to dry her eyes. “Aww, come on Karis, don’t cry again, you’re killing me. He’s gonna be here.” he lied. He knew that there was the possibility that he wouldn’t make it. “But if not, of course, I’ll stay with you. But he’s gonna be here soon.”

Just then her purse fell to the floor from the chair. When Kenyon went to pick it up he discovered that it likely fell because of her phone violently vibrating from inside. “Oh, it’s your phone,” he announced. She extended her arm. “Well, pass it to me.” He instead passed her the entire purse. She looked at him with her brows knitted together. “What? My mom told me to never go in a woman’s purse.” She smiled as she pulled her phone from her purse. Another contraction came as she took deep breaths. When it passed she called Adonis back.

“Hey babe, it’s me.”

His voice was sorrowful.

“Babygirl, I’m so sorry. I never should have left you alone. Howard is driving as fast as he can to get me there. Just try to hold on.”

“Babe, don’t apologize, you had no way of knowing that this would happen today. Just get here safely. I’m scared.”

“I’m sorry you are there going through this alone. We are still about 35 miles out.”

“I’m not alone. Kenyon is here with me.”

Liam cleared his throat, “yeah, well, I will be there soon.”

“Adonis, I don’t know if I can do this. I’m not as strong as I thought. I’m kind of freaking out over here.”

“Karis, listen to me my Queen. You are so much stronger than you think. You are brave, and courageous. You can do anything. Don’t think too much. Just take it one contraction at a time. Remember your breathing.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Heh, I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out.”

“Another contraction is coming.”

‘Baby, focus on my voice. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

“Ok, it passed. Thank you. Kenyon just brought me some ice chips. I’m going to get on the birthing ball. I’ll see you soon?”

“Yes love, we are only 17 miles out now.”

“Adonis?”

“Yes love?”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

They end the call as the nurse and the doula enter the hospital suite. Once Karis was out of the bed and onto the birthing ball she became even more uncomfortable. She was in active labor. Her pains were hard and closer together. She was getting tired.

“Hazel, will you help me? I think I need to use the restroom.”

“No ma’am, we are going to get you back into bed so that nurse Emilia can give us the go ahead to start pushing.”

“Pushing? But Adonis… my husband isn’t here.”

Hazel grabbed her hand and said, “Yes pushing, we want to make sure we don't put baby in danger by holding off too long. I’m sure Adonis will be here soon so he can help you with your breathing as you begin to push.” Her Calm demeanor and comforting words consoled Karis in that moment.

After a vaginal exam, the nurse confirmed that she was indeed ready to start pushing.

“Unfortunately, your baby didn’t get the memo,” Hazel quipped.

A team of nurses swarmed the suite getting things set up for the birth of her baby, Cordonia’s heir. The tears started to pour again. Kenyon stood helplessly before, “I’ll just wait outside,” he said quietly. “But Kenyon, you promised,” she sobbed. “That was before they pulled your covers off.” She pouted and gave him the most ridiculous puppy dog eyes. “Ok, I’ll stay. But only until King Liam arrives.” he looked at Hazel, the doula and asked, “how can I be helpful?”

“I am going to stand on the left and empower Mom, and you stand on the right and help hold her thigh.” Kenyon’s eyes went wide. “Forget it. If you are going to be all weird, then just go,” Karis chided. “I promised I would and I will.” He swallowed thickly before placing his large hand on the joint behind her knee mirroring what he saw Hazel doing. “Am I doing this right Ms. Hazel?” She smiled and nodded her head reassuringly.

“Now Mom, on the next contraction, take a deep breath and push.”

Karis could feel her abdomen tightening. When the next contraction came she took a deep breath and pushed. It felt like she was constipated and needed to relieve herself. On the next contraction, it burned like nothing she had ever experienced. “You’re doing so well Mom, a few more pushes and you get to meet your baby.”

Tired and in pain Karis looked at the nurse and said, “Oh, screw you! This hurts!!”

“Karis!” Kenyon blurted. “Oh, screw you too! You try pushing a watermelon out of a lemon.”

Then came another contraction, but this time instead of focusing on her breathing, she screamed at the top of her lungs, “Adonis!!!! I hate you! You did this to me.” Just then the door flew open. “You called for me, love?” He smiled at her and she melted like she always had.

His presence was a momentary distraction from the insurmountable pain. He had finally made it. He wasn’t going to miss the birth after all. When she laid eyes on him she began to sob. “I don’t really hate yooooou.” One of the nurses helped him scrub up and get into a gown. He gave Kenyon an appreciative elbow dap.

“Adonis, how nice of you to join us. Get over here. Are you ready to meet your baby?” Dr. Dameron asked.

“Yes, of course,” he said before kissing Karis sweetly on the forehead.

“Good because on this next contraction she will deliver the head.”

On the next contraction, Karis seemed more focused than ever. Kenyon wiped the sweat from her brow before she closed her eyes. “I’m here with you now, baby. You are doing amazing. You can do anything.” His confidence in her gave her just the strength she needed to champion through. Quietly, she took a deep breath, tucked her chin into her chest and pushed as hard as she could. “That’s it baby, you’re doing it. I can see the head.”

Dr. Dameron checked for the cord around the baby’s neck as the nurse suctioned it’s airways. On the next push Dr Dameron moved behind Liam positioning his hands to catch the baby.

Karis pushed one final time and the heir to the crown of Cordonia was born. “Oh my God, Karis, love! You did it! He’s beautiful.”

She looked up through the tears, “he? It’s a boy?” The King began to sob and he shook his head confirming. Dr Dameron looked at the clock, “12:09” she told the nurse. Congratulations, your majesties, “It’s a boy.”

@txemrn @pixie88 @secretaryunpaid @khoicesbyk @blackkingliamstan @mom2000aggie @shannonwrote @hopelessromanticmonie @chemist-ana @rideordiechronicles @lucy-268 @dcbbw @darley1101 @maurine07 @sfb123 @bbrandy2002 @kingliam2019 @schnitzelbutterfingers @lem-20 @choicesficwriterscreations @no-one-u-know @jessiembruno @queenrileyrose @thefrenchiemama @somersetmummy @axwalker @gkittylove99

TRR: @twinkleallnight @bebepac @mainstreetreader @romereadingshop @romewritingshop @lem-20 @texaskitten30

#trr #trr au fanfic #choices #choices stories you play #fanfiction #fandom #queen karis #king liam #king of cordonia #adonis x karis #Liam x Karis #shewillreadyou #the royal romance #the royal heir #liam adonis rhys #Kim writes #kimreads #cordonia #ok bye

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

Text

Kurtbastian one-shot - “Sebastian vs. The Flash” (Rated NC17)

Summary:

Snowed into their loft in Vail sounded appealing to Sebastian until a fit of late-night designer’s block prompted Kurt to catch a little satellite TV, and he discovered a new, unexpected obsession. (1153 words)

Read on AO3.

Sebastian woke from a comfortable sleep when he heard his boyfriend whimper.

It didn't matter how asleep Sebastian was. A single muffled note from the back of Kurt's throat could pull him out of the deepest abyss.

He expected to find Kurt hunched over his sketchbook, struggling with his latest design, which would explain the sound.

A whimper of frustration.

It broke Sebastian's heart because he knew nothing about fashion. Not couture fashion - the fancy stuff Kurt excelled at. So there was nothing he could do to help Kurt other than be there for him.

But instead, he found his boyfriend staring moony-eyed at the television, DVR remote in his hands, hitting and re-hitting the rewind button.

Sebastian grinned.

So... Kurt might be suffering from frustration of a different kind.

Interesting...

This Sebastian could definitely help him with.

He perked his ears, trying to catch a hint of dialogue - or, hopefully, a moan.

But lo and behold, Kurt had the volume muted.

“Gorgeous?” Sebastian muttered, blinking awake but hobbled by the blinding blue light from the screen. “What are you doing?”

At the sound of his boyfriend’s groggy voice, Kurt switched the TV off.

“Oh! Just watching some TV. You know - trying to get drowsy.” He covered his mouth and yawned. Even to Sebastian's exhausted ears, it sounded fake. "I think I'm just about there. Time to turn in." Kurt tossed the remote aside and scooted under the covers. He wrapped himself around Sebastian’s body, resting his head on his chest and snuggling close. Sebastian smiled as he held Kurt, rubbing his back in soothing circles.

But he also found it difficult to ignore the undeniable hard-on Kurt was sporting.

Kurt was still blissfully asleep when Sebastian woke in the morning. He kissed Kurt’s forehead, then slowly extricated himself from beneath his boyfriend’s body. Kurt murmured, giggled, then rolled over and went back to sleep.

Sebastian shook his head.

He was ridiculously adorable.

As Sebastian pushed himself upright, his hand met with a solid object.

It was the DVR remote that Kurt had parted ways with in a hurry last night.

Sebastian eyed it suspiciously, curious if his angel could have ordered an X-rated movie - one that, for some reason, he didn't want to share. Or could it be that he tried, but he couldn't wake Sebastian up?

Sebastian had knocked out pretty hard.

Cursing quietly at the possibility of having missed out, he switched on the TV and checked the viewing history. The last show watched was a recorded prime time show.

Sebastian's brow furrowed as he read the title.

“Arrow?” Sebastian muttered, scanning the show description. He didn't know Kurt was into superhero shows. He was always watching documentaries during the rare moments when he watched TV. The last one was about the life and times of Alexander McQueen. Well, this show had a character named Oliver Queen.

Maybe Kurt stumbled on it by mistake?

But that didn't mean Kurt still didn't buy a porno.

Sebastian shut the TV off and climbed, confused, into the shower. When he finished and turned off the water, he heard voices coming from the bedroom. A second later, they were gone.

'That had to be the TV,' Sebastian thought, chuckling to himself. Dying to catch his boyfriend in the act of watching a secret porno, he leaped out of the bathroom wet and naked, vaulted onto the bed, and grabbed for the remote. Kurt fumbled the remote when Sebastian burst through the door, which allowed Sebastian to seize the device and put the image on the screen on pause.

Kurt looked mortified, hands folded tight in his lap, eyes looking anywhere but Sebastian or the TV. Sebastian saw Kurt’s cheeks flood with color and snapped his eyes to the screen, bracing himself for what? Three men? Two guys and a girl? A guy, a girl, and a duck? Whatever it was, it had to be raunchy as hell to make Kurt blush so dark not a sliver of pale skin remained.

But it was nothing like that.

An embarrassed Kurt, cringing beneath the covers, had been watching Arrow.

Actually watching Arrow.

Sebastian looked at the face on the screen – some young actor with brown hair and green eyes Sebastian had never seen or heard of before. He had to admit the man had a sort of nerdy charm, but Sebastian didn’t see the appeal.

He turned to see Kurt, head in hands.

Two and two came together... apparently before Kurt had his chance.

“Whatcha doing?” Sebastian smirked, crawling up the bed to where Kurt huddled, sinking into the mattress.

“I… uh… I’m just watching a little TV,” Kurt stuttered.

Sebastian itched to slide his hand down the front of Kurt’s pants to prove he was doing a little more than watching TV.

“And what's our new friend’s name?” Sebastian teased.

“Uh… I… no one… I…”

Sebastian switched the image on the screen to the episode summary view and read.

“Barry Allen? The Flash?” Sebastian chuckled. Leave it to Kurt to bypass hundreds of the finest pay per view skin flicks to fap off to some regular guy on a network show. Sebastian inched uncomfortably close to Kurt, who refused to look at him. “Oh, Kurt! I didn’t know you had a thing for men in tights.”

“I… I don’t… ” Kurt stammered, afraid he might choke and die on thin air. “He isn’t wearing… I just… thought he was handsome. That’s all.”

“I don’t know.” Sebastian squinted at the face on the screen. “He reminds me of a meerkat.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, his face cooling. “You’re just jealous."

“Really?” Sebastian climbed over his boyfriend, sensing a challenge. He moved the blanket aside and laid his naked body over Kurt’s. “What does he have that I don’t?”

“I don’t know… ” Kurt looked up at the ceiling, pretending to be deep in thought. “He’s got the whole ‘nerdy chic’ thing going.”

“Kurt, I went to Harvard,” Sebastian said as he pulled Kurt’s shirt up his chest.

“Yeah… ” Kurt lifted up, letting Sebastian slip the shirt over his head “... but you don’t look like you went to Harvard.”

Sebastian kissed down Kurt’s neck, sliding his erection beside the bulge in Kurt’s pants.

“Should I buy a pair of black-rimmed Wayfarers?” Sebastian asked, toying with Kurt’s nipple while he held him in his hungry gaze.

“I… I don’t know. Maybe… ”

“Is that all?” Sebastian licked down Kurt’s body, biting his lip as he hovered over his groin.

“H-he’s a superhero.”

Sebastian scoffed, hooking his fingers beneath Kurt’s waistband and pulling his pants down. “With a name like The Flash, I’m pretty sure I’ve got this on lock.”

"We'll see... " Kurt said, his final words before Sebastian slipped his mouth over Kurt's cock and sucked. Kurt reached out a shaking hand, grabbed the remote, and turned off the TV.

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt

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shui-xi · 7 years

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wolfgang in chapter 8

judging from their expressions they had a boner too

#his character design is one of the finest i met lately #oh and if you wonder it's king's maker #it's really good #txt

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Mortal Kombat: An Ode to Johnny Cage and His $500 Sunglasses

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It might be the highest moment of tension in 1995’s Mortal Kombat. While the video game movie positions a wonderful, scenery-chewing Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa as its big bad, I doubt many feared how Robin Shou would handle him in the ring. But Johnny Cage fighting Goro? It’s B-movie actor Linden Ashby playing B-movie actor Johnny Cage, and both the performer and character are entering the arena with a six-limbed demon—a bellowing banshee who just murdered a dozen other token “good guys.” The beast even has the cojones to steal Johnny’s signature sunglasses before the bout and crush them in his hand. How scary is that?

Not very, as it turns out.

As soon as the bell rings, Johnny pulls an honest-to-Raiden split, just like he’s Jean-Claude Van Damme, and punches the stony monster directly in the loincloth. At least in ’95, director Paul W.S. Anderson understood the assignment when it came to adapting video games to live-action, and Ashby’s Johnny Cage rocked that interpretation with real movie star charm.

Twenty-six years later, we’re about to see a new Mortal Kombat reboot on HBO Max and in theaters, which is exciting. As much guilty fun as the original movie is, it’s not exactly one of the 1990s’ sacred cows. And the mythology that video game developers have built around what was once just an arcade beat ‘em up is dizzyingly complicated these days. So there’s plenty of new material to mine—as well as the chance to refreshingly put Asian voices and actors front and center. It’s likely for these reasons the character Johnny Cage is apparently not featured in Mortal Kombat (2021). Plus, where would there be room for him? Judging by the trailer alone, the modern filmmakers are going for a more somber, gritty aesthetic.

All of which is fine. Still, without seeing the movie, I can’t help but wonder if they might be losing something without Johnny Cage and those ridiculous shades. Goro certainly felt lost when, in the first movie’s best scene, he followed Johnny from the ring to a cliffside. It was there Cage shouted, “Those were $500 sunglasses, asshole” before kicking the monster ass-first into the sea.

I can personally attest that back in the mid-‘90s, there wasn’t an eight-year-old who didn’t think that this was cinema at its finest.

In the original Mortal Kombat movie, Cage technically isn’t the main hero, nor should he be. Cage is essentially the plucky comic relief, with the film belonging to Liu Kang (Shou), the descendant of a long line of warriors who each generation must fight in the Mortal Kombat tournament to save Earth from being absorbed by the evil dimension of Outworld. If the plot of the games and movies are a goofy rip-off of Enter the Dragon, then Liu Kang is our Bruce Lee. He must be the stoic hero who saves us all.

And yet, given the fighting game source material, filmmakers Anderson and his screenwriter Kevin Droney needed to build a whole ensemble of likable heroes and evil sorcerers. The film handles these requirements serviceably well on the whole, minus the complete sidelining of Bridgette Wilson’s Sonya Blade to damsel in distress status during the third act. Otherwise, Mortal Kombat ‘95 strikes gold by taking the Johnny Cage character from the game—a martial arts movie star who hilariously enters a life and death tournament to prove he doesn’t use stuntmen or trick photography—and turning him into a scene-stealing quip-delivery system.

Ironically, it’s a role that would’ve been perfect for Jean-Claude Van Damme, a star of Hollywood cheesefests who really could do those oh, so impressive splits but got lumped into the company of Steven Seagal and Chuck Norris. And unfortunately for him, Van Damme had already starred in a video game movie, with Capcom convincing Universal Pictures to cast the Belgian with a thick accent as their all-American Army hero, Col. Guile, in Street Fighter (1994). Maybe something got lost in translation during those boardroom meetings?

In any event, it worked out in Mortal Kombat’s favor where instead of casting a star of bad ‘90s martial arts movies, they hired someone who inadvertently could satirize them. Technically, as a Kung Fu flick, Mortal Kombat is damnably guilty of the criticism Johnny Cage is trying to avoid: It relies quite a bit on stunt doubles and tight editing for many of its fight scenes. While Robin Shou indeed kicks ass in his own stunts as Liu Kang, let’s just say that quick insert shots don’t make it any more believable that Ashby did his own split in front of Goro. Nor does The Immortals’ awesome “Mortal Kombat” techno mix hide how choreographed Wilson’s clothesline punch might be.

Yet it should be noted both were game, with Wilson doing all of her own stunts, and Ashby doing so much of his own in the Scorpion bout that an unexpected axe kick to the kidneys left him peeing blood for a week.

Luckily, his Johnny Cage is so damn delightful through all of it that none of those backstage traumas mattered on screen—especially for the film’s target audience of teenagers and elementary schoolers. Full of mid-‘90s arrogance and cockiness, Johnny could easily come off as a dated cad, and maybe does when he cracks to Sonya that “it’s a man thing” about why he and Liu feel the need to insert themselves like the Scooby Gang into her investigation of Shang Tsung’s island.

But his energy is ultimately irresistible in a movie this wacky. Indeed, it’s a tricky proposition to put on a straight face while selling lore about lightning gods and ninjas descended from dinosaurs (Google “Mortal Kombat” and “Reptile”). The 2021 approach is admirably ambitious, but at least for 25 years ago, leaning into Johnny’s sideways smirk was more than the right impulse; it let the movie get away with almost anything. It also gave permission to the audience to bask in the film’s otherwise wonderfully over-the-top set design.

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Interestingly, much of this winsome humor was either improvised or written on the spot by Ashby and Christopher Lambert, the latter of whom played Lord Raiden. According to Ashby in a 20th anniversary interview with THR, it was even during these late-in-the-game brainstorming sessions he came up with the line, “Those were $500 sunglasses.”

“We worked hard on it” Ashby said, “We didn’t write Hamlet or anything, but we had a lot of fun with it.”

And through that fun, Johnny becomes both superhero and Greek choir. He’s the guy who even after hearing the fate of the entire planet rests on his martial arts skills can still be more concerned about getting his luggage into the ancient rowboat than working on his Karate chops; he also lets the nonsense of this movie roll off the viewers like so many popcorn kernels. As the character insists, “We’re standing, they’re not. What more do you want?”

Other than that awesome techno beat, not a whole lot. Johnny is the safety valve for Mortal Kombat’s lethal levels of absurdity, which inexplicably makes him as compelling a hero as any of them. When he walks into the ring with a giant hexapod ready to stomp on his eyewear, he’s been told he’s the most egotistical, self-deluded person we’ve ever met.

“Yeah, well you forgot good-looking,” he shoots back. After seeing him kick Goro off a mountaintop, you believe him.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

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Daisy’s Family Headcanons

Whelp a few days ago I had the mixed bag of watching “Daisy’s Diary”. It’s the short that inspired Daisy’s wonderful Ducktales 2017 design, and had some cute donald and daisy stuff... for the first half, the second I could barely watch as his vision of married life was “I go to work all day then come home to a nagging wife who makes me do everything. I also get upset because she’s a human being who has to put effort into looking like she does. “ It really killed the momentum. esepcially since i’ts one of the few really romantic shorts with the two I could find, again only for the first half. But while I came in expecting a terrible second half and breezed and skipped through it as mucha s I could, I did find something I didn’t REMOTELY expect. Daisy has a family. And I don’t mean her nieces and unnamed sister, I mean three brothers (subbing in for HDL, using basically the same design), and more suprisingly a mother and dad.

Now granted i’m sure mickey and donald characters have HAD parents before, but it’s still rare. Mostly it’s nieces and nephews, with goofy being one of the few dads I can think of in disney canon. But no here, while it’s for a short that’s about marriage and thus necessictating “meeting the parents” it’s still.. suprising. Before watching the short i’d pegged daisy and her sister as orphans like donald.. but now I wanted to flesh these characters out. SO here we are. Daisy’s Mom: Janiss Duck (Named after her voice actress, Vivi Janiss)

Janiss lived a hard life: She’s had to use a hearing aid since a young age (updated from the short giving her an old fashioned listening horn thing for a quick, terribly aged gag), and is deaf without it. Not only that but she worked hard for her education degree, and due to her parents refusing to put her through school, had to do so herself. It was working at her college that she met a fellow student and her future husband, Franklin Duck. The two married after graduation, and have been happy since, though being more of a realist than her husband she’s often frustrated with his flighty ways, but loves him all the same. Despite a rough life, and being a stern parent when her twin daughters were born, she still loves her children dearly and dotes on them and fusses over them. She’s also supportive of her daughter’s dream: While she wasn’t sure at first, she eventually came around, seeing in her daughter the same drive she had at her age, and has been valuable emotional support as her adult daughter has tried her best to climb up in the fashion world and had to work for a lot of people who treated her like dirt, something Janiss knows all too well. Even being fully aware of this Janiss has still had to resist hte urge to sock Glamour in the face for her treatment of her daughter. Janiss hard work has paid off however as she is currently headmistress at Daphne Gander Elementary, Duckberg’s finest private school, bought by gladstone’s mother at some point in the past and renamed from a name I do not have. She has won an award from the Elvira Coot Women’s Association and won the “Greater Callisota Educator of the Year” award three times, and the duckberg principal of the year award 5 times in a row. Franklin Duck (Named not after any famous duck people but Franklin Sherman from the animated show “The Critic)

Franklin is a bit of a lunatic, a bit of a weirdo.. but he’s also warm, kind and a loving husband and father. He had a lifelong love of photography, adventure and taking the most of life and easily swept his future wife off her feet with his energy and kidness. And thanks to his wife’s far steadier career, Franklin’s been able to persue whatever gigs he pleased, while still bringing home a decent amount of money for his growing family. His “do it whenever the mood strikes me” style to his career DID however mean he was often home for his kids and more than happy to do the housework and other chores. The result was a chaotic but loving house and that attidue persits. And while he can drop in for some lunacy with his daughters, they do appricate him carring..e ven if they wished he’d call instead of randomly showing up in the bathtub. Al, Carl, and Keno (Named for Al Talifino, Keno Don Rosa and Carl Barks)

Daisy’s little brothers. I do see them aged up to their late teens due to being kids in this short with Daisy, as well as being inspried by @moonstoneflowers aging up of the nieces, but wanting to keep them the boys age. Plus it made no real sense to have daisy have TWO groups of 10-11 kids, nor did the age make sense with how old daisy’s parents would be int he reboot. So their teens. Al is laid back, to the point of letharigc but highly creative.. he’s also high a lot of the time, but makes a point to never do it when the girls or, now that daisy’s seeing donald, boys will be around. Carl is more of the sporting type, already having a track scholarship and does fencing in his spare time. Despite this he’s a nice inclusive fellow. he also came out several years ago to his family’s unanmous acceptance. Keno is a bit of a stickler, and can go on for hours and hours about how much he hates superheroes and other certain things that set him off, but is also a masterful artist, and a dedicated son, taking good care of both parents when he can. Donna Duck:

I decided after reading the aformentioned moonstone’s fanfic to go with the old tried and true , Rosa approved theroy of donna being daisy’s sister. Donna wasn’t as driven as her sister at first, loving to party, have fun and generally not worry about the future.. till she ended up pregnant with a father who had no intrest in his incoming daughters and only agreed to help support them because Janis railed him out, but had no intrest in actually raising or ever knowing them. Donna however ended up thriving under the pressure, quickly getting a job at a local party planning buisness for upstart buisness woman Brigitta Macbridge. In time her job and the buisness florished and when her boss moved on to start up other ventures, donna was givne the full reigns and with her families help was able to, and stil lis able to juggle it with 3 daughters. Who I will get to at some point, but feel I must have time to think of hence April, may and june being absent for now, as I feel they should be as fleshed out as the boys. For now this is where I leave things. I hope you enjoyed this.. either way it was nice to get it all out there.

#Donald DUck #Daisy Duck #Donna Duck #Daisy's diary #ducktales 2017 #ducktales #headcannons #disney

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queencatherynerhys · 4 years

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Stuck With You - Chapter 1

Summary: Neal Caffrey had met his fair share of interesting women over the years. Once or twice he thought he had known what love meant. But he learned what being in love was like when he met her. Now he must face a future without her. How will he survive?

A/N: I didn’t have time or energy to fully edit this chapter. I hope I got most of the grammar errors. I apologize in advance for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy. Don’t forget to like, and please comment if you do. Let me know if you want to be tagged for future updates.

Disclaimer: Most of the characters aren’t mine. They belong to the creators of the wonderful show, White Collar.

Tags: @kacie-0156

Four days earlier…

Earlier in the week, the FBI caught wind of an unidentified man that came into the city in the hopes of selling a stolen Rembrandt painting in New York. It sparked their attention because the particular piece hadn’t been seen or heard for at least two decades. The storm on the Sea of Galilee went missing in 1990 and now it has resurfaced.

Peter and Neal followed the trail of clues and they managed to set up an appointment with their mystery man in Gramercy Park. As per protocol, the FBI staked out and waited for their man to show up from the confines of a worn utility truck parked two blocks away from the meeting site. Peter, Neal, Jones, and Diana all took a screen of their own and watched for anyone suspicious to show up.

“There,” Neal pointed on his screen as an anonymous man sat down on one of the benches. He was a young man in his late 20s to early 30s with brown hair, but what caught Neal’s eye was his demeanor. His knee was bouncing up and down, his fingers were fidgeting, and his eyes kept glancing and looking around nervously. This man was no art thief. He was just a young man. He looked at Peter to tell him, but from the looks of it he already knew what he was going to say.

“Guys, I don’t think this guy is our man. Just look at him. He doesn’t even come close to the profile of an art thief. I don’t think this guy can steal a candy bar from a gas station. I think we are looking for another guy. This guy is just a middleman,” Peter told his team.

“I agree, boss, so what’s the plan?” Diana asked.

“We send Neal in to find out what he wants, and go from there,” he answered. He watched as Neal stood up, fixed his tie and suit, and flashed his signature, smug smile before exiting the van.

Neal confidently walked towards the bench the man was sitting on, but before he could even come near him the young man glanced at him, ducked his head, and appeared as if he whispered something to an earpiece. Guess that confirms the theory of this guy being just a patsy, but now Neal knew he’d been made. Without showing realization, Neal kept walking acting as if he was just taking a stroll through the park.

He made a big loop back towards the van and informed the others when he got there that the still unidentified knew who Neal was and he informed his partner, or employer, of him through the use of an earpiece.

“By the looks of it, he knew who I was. I don’t think this plan is much of a plan anymore, Peter,” Neal said.

Peter had his thinking, planning face on. Then, a brief look of hesitation flashed on his face. No one else would have caught it but Neal was a master at detecting facial expressions, subtle or otherwise. He saw it. When Peter turned to him, he saw it in his eyes. He beckoned him to talk outside the van so he followed.

“What’s up, Peter?” Neal inquired.

“I was thinking. This guy came to New York out of the blue to sell a valuable, stolen painting. What does that tell us? He’s desperate to get the piece out of his hand, so he needs to find a buyer fast. What if we put a middle man on the table?” Peter explained.

“A fencer?” Neal questioned although he knew it was the right answer. “Where are we going to find someone good enough to act as an art fencer? Diana? She’s good, but I have a hunch this guy is going to need someone more well-versed in the world of fine art. I would suggest Mozzie but he’s been…occupied…since the Cape Verde fiasco. So who else is there?” Neal explained.

Peter looked at him with a look of hesitation with just a dash of regret. It dawns on Neal why he was looking at him that way.

“Oh, no. No. No, Peter, No. You are not bringing her into this,” Neal began to object to his friend’s idea.

“Neal, listen, she’s the only chance we have of catching this guy. With her background in situations like this, who could be more perfect?” Peter tried to persuade. Neal was still not convince. He did not like this at all. Not one bit. Peter had one more card to play to try and get Ryne to do it.

“Well, how about we ask her opinion on it?” Peter slowly asked. He had come to know the young woman well in the year and a half she’s been in Neal’s life. He knew if anyone could change Neal’s mind, it’s her.

Neal had always been the romantic. Peter had seen him fall too easily and get heartbroken and dealt with loss no one should ever have to go through. He truly thinks that Neal loved them in his own way, but not the way he loves Ryne. Of all the women he’s seen come and go, Kate, Alex, Sara, even Rebecca, in his friends life she’s the only woman he was the most protective about. He could admit that seeing his friend care about someone the way he cared about Ryne gave him hope that Neal could have what he has with Elizabeth. A home, a family, love, happiness, contentment on where he is and what he has.

“Fine. Come by the apartment later,” Neal gave in and walked away but not back to the van.

“Where are you going?” Peter asked him.

Neal turned around and a flashed a bright smile, “To make my case before you show up.” He arrived at June’s house and as he does everyday since he moved in he went to say hello to his beautiful, kind landlord before making his way upstairs. He looked everywhere on the lower floors for her, but he figured she currently wasn’t home so he headed upstairs to his apartment.

The rich tones of a lively piano music being played gradually became louder as he ascended the narrow stairwell. A grin began to form on his face as he remembered the animated conversation they had about bringing getting a piano to his apartment.

“Come on, babe. It’s all I’m asking. Everything else in the apartment is yours. I just want one thing that’s for me. My own mark on Neal Caffrey’s perfect apartment,” she said in almost whiny, but endearing voice.

“Ryne, I just don’t see the practicality of having a piano in here. Do you know how hard it will be to get it up here? And where would we put it?” Neal reasoned while tying his tie in front of the tall mirror beside their bed . He turned around to face her after he finished fixing himself.

She sashayed toward him slowly, enticingly, until coming to a stop in front of him to fix the lapels of his designer jacket.

“There’s plenty of room in front of the bed,” she suggested, almost pouted, and looked at his blue eyes with her big, hazel one pleadingly. The only thing missing was batting eyes, but she was not a little girl begging for candy. She’s was a sophisticated woman who knew that the man in front of her would give her the world if she asked for it. He couldn’t resist her, and she knew it.

“Ugh, fine, you can have a piano in here,” he gave in and laughed when she jumped for joy at getting what she wanted. “The great Neal Caffrey tamed by big eyes and pouty lips. What have I become?” He looked down and shook his head with feign disappointment.

She lifted his face by the chin and flashed the brightest of smiles before she closed in and gave him a passionate kiss. One of his hands held the back of her head while the other wrapped around her waist to bring her closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through his brown locks.

Had he no plans of meeting Peter, he would have gladly had his way with her on the apartment they now shared. Funny, even though Sara lived in his apartment for a brief time he never considered them sharing his home. It was always his, and Sara was there conveniently due to circumstances at the time they were dating. That’s not the case with Ryne. She’s different. He wanted to share everything with her, to be with her, to spend every waking minute of his life in the comfort of her arms. It was at that moment he realized he wanted to be hers forever.

Neal Caffrey was smitten with her. He knew he had never felt like this with anyone before. Sara had been close to capturing his heart, but she demanded a life he couldn’t give her. With all the women that came to his life, she’s the only one that didn’t want anything from him. She didn’t demand him to change, to be less the conman and more the honest-living-type-of guy. She encouraged and loved that he needed to live an almost free-spirited life. She simply loved him, Neal Caffrey, and all his facets, no more and no less.

“I love you, Ryne Beneventi, more than anything in this world, more than the finest art or jewelry. If you would have me, I want to be yours forever,” Neal proclaimed as he pulled away from the kiss and looked deeply into her eyes. He held her closer to him. Neal had never in his life said those three words to anyone but her.

Kate knew he loved her, but he never said the words aloud. It was always implied, assumed. Alex was a spontaneous relationship. They had something, but not enough for those words. With Sara, he came close. He realized he fancied the “domestic” life with her. He cared for her perhaps a bit more than the others. He even proposed to her as part of a job they were doing. Rebecca, she, was a different case. A loose canon not worth mentioning.

But Ryne, she was the light in the darkness. She was his compass when he felt torn on which direction he should go. She was the breath he needed to live.

“I love you, Neal Caffrey. And I am yours as much as you are mine. Forever,” she replied with a bright smile as she caressed his cheek softly with a warm, soft hand. He leaned to her touch and kissed the back of her palm before pulling away.

He would have loved to have stayed with her the whole day, but almost in cue his phone began to ring. His leash beckoned.

In the present, Neal shook the memory away and proceeded up the flight of stairs towards their apartment. He opened the door quietly as to not disturb her. He leaned by the doorway mesmerized by the picture painted in front of him with Ryne lost in her world of music simultaneously filling him with joy and contentment he never knew he could feel

#White Collar #whitecollar #Neal Caffrey #nealcaffrey #neal caffrey x oc #neal x oc #mozzie white collar #Peter Burke #romance #fluff #angst #neal x peter

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