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buirbaby · 3 years

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Thistle & Thorn: The Letter

Rating: General

Masterlist

Dawn always brought blisteringly bright sunlight with it, lancing through the sheer curtains and smacking Nessia right in the face. Summer in the highlands was mild, temperatures typically peaking just beneath 20°C (the 60s°F), the cracked window trailing in a refreshing breath of fresh air that caused the shades to dance. Rolling in her quilts, untangling herself from the fussed sheets, and nearly falling out of the bed to land upon the hard wooden floor, ivy green eyes peeled toward the window as talons scrabbled at the edge of the sill and an unfamiliar owl poked its head past the threshold and into her domain.

"Allo there," Nessia yawned, finally dislodging herself from the hazard of her restless sleeping arrangements. Her eyes pulled over the creature groggily, inspecting the tawny feathers banded with black, ear tufts quivering as the eagle-owl blinked pumpkin orange eyes at her. "Hae'na seen ye before. Post usually goes downstairs by the kitchen, big windows over the sink. Hoggle typically handles—" she explained, pausing when the owl offered a letter toward her. "Or is this for me?"

The owl preened, feathers lifting momentarily before it allowed her to take the parcel and bunkered down in the sunlight that streamed against the window, basking in the warmth.

Nessia hummed, turning the letter over before realizing what it was, her fingers becoming clumsy and wrists quivering in blistering excitement as she started to vibrate at the sight of the Hogwart's crest. Now, she'd known that one day that the school would send her a letter, just as all young witches and wizards in the area received one. However, she'd felt anxious because she didn't display her magic as brazen or spectacularly as Logan had when he'd been her age. Hoggle had told her all about how he'd caused a mess of the manor, from causing statues to come to life from laughs that echoed like lion's roars and knocked paintings from the walls. The most that Nessia had ever done was hiccup out a bumblebee, which Hoggle said was much more preferable to Logan's messes.

Breaking the seal, Nessia's eyes became watery, as if she'd gotten potting soil in them again from rubbing her face with filthy hands. This was no farce, written in beautiful emerald script was a letter addressed to her, welcoming her to Hogwarts for her first year, and hosting a list of supplies required as a student. Finding the acceptance form in the very back, Nessia scrabbled for an inkwell and signed her name, aware that the resting owl was roosting for the journey back and likely to also send her own reply so that she could officially be added to the roster. She wondered if anyone ever declined.

"Och," she placed the new letter before the owl, an orange eye blinking open suspiciously. "When yer all good and rested, can ye take this back? Ye can stay here as long as ye need. Here's some water too," Nessia grabbed one of her pails and filled a cup she had laying around in her room, pushing it up her desk toward the raptor. "Mind the plants, but make yerself at hame."

The owl shook its feathers out and gave a low, trilling hoot before bending down to lap up some of the offered water. Nessia took the pieces of parchment, threw on a proper dress—which was little more than a corduroy sack over her shift—and burst out of her room with more fervor than the typically quiet girl displayed. Sputtering around a corner, her socks slipped beneath her and she slid an extra few paces before a hand snapped out and gripped the bannister, redirecting her path so that she could sprint toward her grandfather's solar.

Located on the opposite side of the heirloom cottage, the home that she'd grown up in as long as she could remember, even when her parents had been alive. The MacDougal Manor, situated within the misty rolling hills of the Scottish Highlands, flanked by Loch Linsor and relatively removed from neighbors muggle and wizard alike. Despite the sheltered, rural location, the home was a hive of familiar faces including Hoggle, the house elf, to other friends and servants. In the lake was a pod of merrow, many of which didn't mind popping above the surface to spare an afternoon of conversation with Nessia, to their gardener, a centaur named Rowan who was estranged from the local clan and happily made his home amongst the MacDougal family.

Even if their own grounds were limited to those that worked and kept stock of the care and daily routines, they were often frequented by visits that related to her grandfather's connections. He had been an important man in his prime and despite the years of his youth slipping through the hourglass that was time, many still came to him for advice or whispering happenings within the shadows.

Being so early in the morning, Nessia hadn't expected it to be another day where Bhan was entertaining a guest, sputtering to a graceless halt in front of the oaken door wrought with intricately carved designs depicting the MacDougal alliance with the centaurs and merrow of this area of the highlands. Their family had always had close ties with other Beings (even if the merrow and centaurs disregarded this classification), including their own house elves which lived a much more comfortable life than most elves in similar positions. She had only just raised a tanned fist to knock upon the door when she overheard voices on the other side.

"He's escaped Azkaban?" it was her grandfather, Angus, hissing in frustration at the revelation. "How in Merlin's name? If I werenae so hoachin' I'd join the hunt for him meself. Where aboot did he get loose?"

"Further south and put a little more faith in the department assigned to hunt werewolves," the other person retorted calmly.

"Faith?" Angus huffed in indignation. "I had faith that the sleekit dug wouldnae escape from Azkaban in the first place!"

"Things happen, Angus."

"Things happen, me arse. When I worked for the Ministry this wouldnae happened. Folk be gettin' too relaxed noo that Ye-Ken-Who is pushing daisies. Noo the Ministry gets all gallus and let's a bloody lycan loose. How many ye think will be turned or killed, eh?"

"Angus, I only came here to deliver the news so you could keep your eyes and ears sharp. I doubt he'll come up here, not when there's nowhere to hide and far too many centaurs roaming the moors," her grandfather's companion sounded bone weary, exhausted by toiling with the idea that innocent people were going to be cursed, maimed, or killed.

"Makin' a habit o' eavesdropping?"

The sound of Hoggle's voice made Nessia leap up, fumbling her letters before giving the house elf a bashful, guilt ridden look. "I-I," she stammered quietly, worried that those inside the solar would hear her. "Got me letter to Hogwarts. I only wanted tae show Bhan."

"The MacDougal has a guest. Come downstairs fer now and break yer fast," Hoggle shook his head dismissively, but a tight smirk betrayed the elf's amusement by the girl's dolefulness. "A letter tae Hogwarts noo? Suppose it's aboot time ye had yer own turn there."

"Do ye ken anyone who works there?" Nessia trotted after the house elf, his ragged tartan swaying behind him, pinned in place by a rusty pennancular pendant that Hoggle took deep pride in.

"Got a few cousins who do work in the kitchens," Hoggle admitted, giving her a sideways glance. "Course they're nothin' like me."

"No one is like ye, Hoggle. Everyone's different," Nessia pointed out chipperly.

"Nay," he shook his head, batty ears swaying from their position where they'd been slicked back like hair. "The MacDougals are a fine clan. Good witches and wizards. Treat all their servants right. Hogwarts is good too, but... most places dinnae treat me kind like people. The MacDougal gae me a room, a stipend, clothes—this is a job. For other elves its servitude, slavery and they bow willfully. We were made that way... tae want tae serve. I wouldnae trade whit I hae here for anything. Me cousins... they're happy, because the folk at the school are kind and they dinnae ken better. So they might seem a bit odd compared tae me."

Nessia cocked her head, having never met another house elf aside from Hoggle. Truth be told, she thought all of the elves were servants who had their own respective quarters and free time. But slaves? Her wide lips pulled down in a frown and her steps started to trudge as she contemplated the situation others of Hoggle's kind might be subjected to. "I'm sorry, ye sound sad."

Hoggle blinked. "Is na yer fault, Nessie. Jus' the way things be."

"That's wrong though. Just like it's wrong that the centaurs and merrows are classified as beasts," Nessia huffed.

The house elf's lips tugged up in a smile. "World needs more witches who think like ye, Nessie. Be a much kinder place."

"World would be weak if it were more like me," Nessia muttered, mostly to herself as the pair stepped into the kitchen. Yet another one of her favorite rooms in the house, with high ceilings, a long table in the center of the room that functioned as both an island and where informal meals were hosted. With a wave of a knobbly hand, a stool danced toward Hoggle and he hopped up onto it.

"The world needs kindness, Nessie. It doesnae make ye weak," Hoggle assured her. "Yer bhan is kind."

"But he's also braw," she countered, plopping down on a barstool by the island.

"Och, yer bum's oot the windae, int it?" a third voice joined the conversation, the tall visage of her adult brother sauntering into view as he fixed his tie. The siblings, while having the same parents, reflected each parent in their own way. Nessia took after their mother, with tanned skin, thick curly black hair, and a flat nose-smattering her nose like a constellation was her father's Scottish freckles and the MacDougal green eyes were another telltale sign of her heritage. Whereas Logan was a shade fairer, strong jawed, tall and broad, a head of russet curls hashed with strands of auburn and gold. Whilst he looked more akin to their father, Bhan always claimed he had their mother's fire burning in his heart. Despite their differences, they did share their mother's nose.

"Ah umnae!" Nessia squeaked, cheeks darkening at the insinuation that she was talking rubbish.

"Whit hae ye got there?" Logan gestured to her folded parchment while he was adjusting the cuff links on his shirt.

"Oh! Me letter to Hogwarts," she stood on the pegs of the stool and leaned over the counter to wave it at him.

In just three strides, Logan met her and took the parchment from her, whistling low as he thumbed through it thoughtfully. "Who wouldae thought they'd accept a lil mandrake like ye. Did ye send a letter back sayin' ye'd only want tae study plants?"

"I can learn other stuff," Nessia grumbled, crossing her arms as her brother.

"Well, if that's the case, when ye get yer want, how aboot I teach ye some spells?" he offered, handing the parchment back and pouring himself a cup of tea that Hoggle had on the stove.

"I thought I couldnae practice magic outside o' school," Nessia recalled smartly.

"In front o' muggles. Otherwise, who's gaunnae stop ye? Most other students are na lucky enough to hae a big brother who's an Auror," Logan retorted glibly.

"Am not tryin' to be an Auror," Nessia reminded him.

"Och, yer too wee tae ken whit ye'd like tae do yet," Logan played off dismissively. "I do ken we hae a lot of the supplies ye need here—like the cauldron, scales, phials, telescope. I might even hae some of the books, I ken ye have the One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi one in yer room."

Nessia gave a stout nod, pleased that she wouldn't dirty new books, as she had the uncanny ability to smear dirt on them as well as the inclination to make notes in the margins. Even if the clan had a manor, comparatively Nessia wouldn't claim they were the richest or most influential family. Most of the sacred twenty-eight turned their noses up at the accepting tendencies the MacDougals practiced. They lived comfortably, but if items could be repurposed or recycled, there was no use in wasting it. Both Nessia and Logan had been raised to be appreciative of what they had, what they acquired, and to not discard belongings without regard. An old book still held the same words as a new one and personally, the old one had more character.

"Suppose I'll need tae get a wand and robes, ye were a skinny malinky longlegs when ye went tae school," Nessia pointed out.

Logan sputtered into his mug, Hoggle chortling at the description.

"Keep the heid, young master," Hoggle taunted before the man could offer rebuttal.

"Whit's this noo?" Heads swiveled in the direction of the voice from under the awning, Angus having his hands propped up on his hips as he surveyed the crowd and began carving his path toward the tea kettle. "Yer gaunnae be late fer work, eh?" he prompted, turning verdant eyes to pin Logan where he stood, still gobsmacked from Nessia's prod.

"It's an important day. Na everyday that yer little sister gets an acceptance letter to Hogwarts," Logan preened, taking a glance at his watch.

"Sounds like an excuse tae me. Whit time are ye supposed to be in?" Angus countered suspiciously.

Logan grumbled. "Och, I'll go!" With a snap the man's silhouette rippled inward and he disapparated from the kitchen, fluttering a nearby towel that was folded over the oven handle.

Plates were beginning to float from the stove, landing soundlessly on the island as Hoggle moved as if he were conducting an orchestra. Silverware, plates, and cups followed—the door banging open, followed by the clopping of hooves as Rowan entered.

"Mornin'," he greeted, pausing to wash his hands in the sink.

"So ye got yer letter to Hogwarts? Aboot time," Angus remarked, returning to the island to glance over the parchment. "Might be time tae head to Diagon Alley for the rest o' yer supplies. Hoggle, ye think ye can scrounge up the auld books? I ken Logan had a few of these."

"O' course," Hoggle agreed.

Diagon Alley had been a less than often frequented place of Nessia. To be honest, it was busy, overwhelming, and cramped. Nothing about London was favorable to her, especially when she was so accustomed to the wide open moors and the loch that spanned her home. Additionally, it was humid and frizzed up her curls, turning them into a deplorable helmet. Usually, she let her bhan go without her, but managed to suppress a sigh because she knew that this outing would result in acquiring one of the most important items as a witch: a wand.

"Dinnae look so driech," Angus chuckled.

"It's gaunnae be gross, I jus' ken it," Nessia pouted, spooning hash onto her plate and settling on a scoop of eggs to join it. "Hogsmeade is closer, innit?"

"Tis," Angus mused. "I jus' thought ye'd want the full experience."

Nessia arched a brow at him. "Full experience? I'd prefer na tae sweat me breeks off."

"Lassie dinnae care fer the Sassenachs," Rowan observed mischievously. "Cannae blame ye for that."

"Most o' yer peers are gaunnae be Sassenachs," Hoggle wagged a wooden spoon at her.

"Well, if I can put off meetin' em for as long as possible-" Nessia suggested lightly, shoving some food into her mouth.

"Feart not," Angus declined. "We're gaunnae go to the Alley."

Nessia let out a plainative groan and nearly choked on her eggs, chasing it down with orange juice. The rest of breakfast went on as usual before she was sent off to get ready for the afternoon. London was going to be quite a bit warmer than the highlands, which forced her to choose thinner robes that she preferred to wear. Bundling her hair in a bun at the nape of her neck to save her the embarrassment of it being frazzled to hell, Nessia slipped on a pair of Wellies and trundled grumpily out of her room, the owl having left before she returned.

Upon passing her grandfather's solar, Nessia paused momentarily to reflect on what she'd overheard. Lycans? Escape from Azkaban? She hadn't caught a name, but a shiver traced down her spine at the thought of werewolves roaming the countryside in search of unsuspecting victims. Living in the highlands, she was reminded duly of the protection she was afforded so far north, so removed, and by plenty of other creatures that would chase the werewolves across the moors before letting them bunker down and cause a ruckus.

Waiting by the main hearth, Angus had already dressed in his afternoon robes, including a small sash in the clan's tartan which slashed across his breast. Adjusting his balmoral cap, his heavy brows raised at his granddaughter.

"Try na tae look too enthused," he retorted sarcastically, mustache twitching up at the 11 year old's dismay.

"It's gaunnae be driech, Bhan," Nessia whined, dipping her hand into the basin filled with Floo powder. "And they talk weird."

"Whit if we're the ones who talk weird?" Angus challenged.

"Doubtful," stepping into the fireplace, the sand sifting between her fingers, Nessia tossed the powder down with pizzazz. "Diagon Alley!" Careful to speak clearly, envious green flames lanced up in front of her, obscuring her vision completely. Holding her breath to prevent breathing in the fumes and ash, she narrowed her eyes in an effort to witness her voyage up out of the tippy top of her home's chimney. Arms pinned, up becoming down, skipping from north to south, Nessia groaned when she made impact with the public fireplace of the Alley.

Immediately, she was rebuffed by the humid air of London, the cool and refreshing summer of the highlands replaced by an unusually hot day, peaking at the high 20s (nearly 80F). Pushing a few stray curls from her forehead, Nessia grimaced and stepped out of the way as the chimney above her thundered with the warning of another traveler approaching. Never a pleasant experience, her nose wrinkling as she huffed a sneeze and barely managed to move as a wizard threw a haughty glare in her direction. Rolling her eyes, she waited another moment before her grandfather materialized, dusting off his robes and tartan, ruffling his mustache and sneezing just as loudly as she had.

The mimicked fashion made her grin widely and he chuckled. "Blasted Floo. Never been tae fond of it," he grumbled, striding up to meet her.

"I dinnae think anyone 'likes' it, Bhan," Nessia pointed out to his chagrin.

"Shoulda just disapparated," he muttered, rubbing beneath his nose again. "Noo, where do we need tae go?"

Unfolding the list from her pocket, Nessia could already feel sweat beading on the back of her neck. Maybe she'd worn too heavy an outfit, the corduroy like a smothering blanket amidst the humidity. Thank Merlin Hogwarts was in Scotland. "Robes, parchment, note books, a wand-" she recited, aware that most of the other supplies could be scavenged around the MacDougal grounds. Hand-me-downs didn't bother her too much, though it wasn't as if they couldn't afford newer items; Nessia just didn't see a point when there were perfectly good ones at home.

"Generic supplies," Angus admitted. "Och, well let's get started then. Get ye some robes, 'course yer wand—it's the most important item ye'll get. Maybe if yer not too cheeky, we can stop for some icecream."

Nessia beamed in spite of the blistering weather and flanked her grandfather as they started through the brimming streets of Diagon Alley. From the sloping roofs held up by only magic, defying gravity's expectations, to the gayly hued robes that bespeckled the populace, she settled into the hum of activity. From the freshly baked pastries that filled her with fragrant thoughts of Hoggle making holiday desserts to the owls ruffling their feathers within their cages, she relaxed slightly, keeping close beside her grandfather who parted the crowd as if he had a wand out and was thrusting folks aside. Be it the prowess the broad man moved with or just the heavy expression he always wore, most steered clear of the highlander. He was easily recognizable from his hints of traditional garb and the pride each shoe fell with.

Nessia wished she possessed an ounce of her grandfather's confidence or vindication, but as close as they were they couldn't have been more unlike each other. He was outgoing, strong, ambitious, wise, and willful. Nessia was quiet, reclusive, and shy. Only those that she knew did the girl have the heart to sass, but under the scrutiny of strangers she felt nervous and sweaty. The sheer idea of having to go to school without him made her falter. For today she should have been rejoicing, as excited as the other children around her that she would be going to school soon and beginning the next endeavor of her life. Truthfully, Nessia was terrified.

"Bhan, whit house do ye think I'll be in?" she asked him as they continued down the road toward the wand shop.

"Dinnae, bit o' a toss up for ye. Yer smart, so maybe Ravenclaw. Yer also too nice fer yer own could, ye could be in Hufflepuff," he answered honestly, which made her frown slightly.

"Weren't ye in Gryffindor, Bhan?" she prompted.

"Aye, do ye think ye'll be put into Gryffindor?"

Nessia wanted to be in the same house as her grandfather, almost as if it'd prove that there was more to her than the demure plant-loving witch, but she didn't think herself very brave. Just contemplating how desperately she wanted to be in the house made her eyes prickle with tears, which she quickly blinked back. "I hope Ravenclaw," she decided, knowing that Logan wouldn't let her live it down if she got placed into Hufflepuff. Not that the house sounded bad, but when her family came from a long history of Gryffindors, it made her balk at being placed in the 'softest' house at Hogwarts. After all, she was a highlander and only Ravenclaw or Gryffindor would do.

"Dinnae fash. Ye'll do well wherever ye are, lassie. Ye ken I'm proud of ye, even if ye got placed in Slytherin. No house will change me mind," Angus assured her, tapping her on her nose, having noticed that she was fighting back tears.

The shop in front of them was dusty, but then again, many of the store fronts around here were. It was strange, considering how busy Diagon Alley was, that time was rarely allocated to clean off store fronts or afford a new repaint. Considering all it would take was a swing of a hand or wand to set brooms or dustpans to work, Nessia cocked her head as she stared at the grimy pillow in the display and itched her nose at the anticipation of stepping into the shop. Hoggle would have lost his mind.

Bell tinkling upon their arrival, Nessia shielded her eyes—not because the shop was particularly bright, in fact it was rather dim. No, it was the chain reaction that her presence caused, a box on the wall jetting out amongst the rank and file and pinging right into the side of a rickety desk. An elderly man jumped, his thin white hair going astray as he glanced from the box, the mess the wand had created by acting so spryly—spilling at least two dozen others from the wall—before bending down to pick it up.

"Mr. MacDougal," the shopkeeper smiled, placing the box up on the counter and glancing between them. "I don't think either of you will be spending very long here."

"Nice tae see ye, Ollivander," Angus greeted, palming his granddaughter's back and thrusting her forward from where she'd frozen. "Seems yer wands got minds of their own."

"I see it... from time to time," he smiled gently, turning his wizened eyes down toward Nessia. "This must be Nessia? You look a lot like your mother when she came to get her first wand."

"You remember her?" Nessia's trepidation was trumped by the man's memory of a mother she barely recalled. Both of her parents had been killed when she was little, amidst the wizarding war that had made for a tumultuous childhood for her.

"I remember every person I sell a wand to," Ollivander winked, lifting the lid to the box and revealing a wand. "She had a 12", dragon heartstring cored wand, made from red oak. A very handsome wand."

"Whit happened with that wand?" Nessia inquired, gesturing to the one that had flown clean off the shelf.

"Ah, well let's take a look," he picked up up, holding it to the oil lamp beside him, scrutinizing the ribbing and the fine lattice work of knots around the grip. "Made from vine. They have a tendency to display their attraction to potential partners. I've only seen it happen a few times before, but they're not always quite a brash as this one."

At the insinuation that the wand had reacted to her, Nessia's tanned cheeks darkened and she sputtered. "M-me?"

"Certainly not your grandfather. I'm afraid this wand would not suit him," Ollivander betrayed. "This one has been collecting dust for a while. A very long while," he insisted, reaching over to offer it to Nessia. "I made it many years ago, while I was still experimenting with other cores aside from dragon heartstring, unicorn hair, or phoenix feathers. Honestly, I thought it might never sell. Griffin feathers are quite particular, perhaps even more so than phoenix feathers. Prideful creatures."

Accepting the wand, a tingle lanced up her hand, into her elbow, and caused the girl to shudder all over as if a strong gust of cold highland wind had knocked right through her. She could smell the rain on the moors, fresh air whistling through her thick curls, and roasted apples over a fire. A smile curled her lips and she opened her eyes to glance curiously at the wandmaker.

"A perfect fit," Ollivander declared. "It would seem MacDougals are always the quickest shops. I seem to remember when my father had a wand nearly jump into your hands, Angus."

Her grandfather snorted, removing his wand to offer it to the artisan, who ran his fingers along the wood with a sad, but pleased reminiscent expression upon his face. "Nessie's a MacDougal through and through," he puffed up in pride. "Griffin feather, ye hear? Makes sense, a good deal of griffins migrate to the highlands in the warmer seasons."

Always having felt that maybe being a witch was not suited perfectly for her, Nessia clutched the wand. She couldn't have wished for anything more than this perfect union with the unique wand. A tendril of confidence bolstered the girl's frail spine and she grinned up at her bhan. A griffin feather? Of all the cores, she wouldn't have expected such a braw one to choose her, but her heart soared like the creature it was made from.

"I always thought your core was so strange. How my father managed to acquire will-o-wisps and fashion it into a wand always eluded my skill," Ollivander commented, turning Angus' wand over a few times. "I would have expected the reverse for the two of you, but such rare cores are fickle and don't sell often enough to warrant making them in masses. I realized this once I had taken over, but it still warms my heart to see these wands finally find their partners."

"Served me well, it has," Angus assured him. "And dinnae forget that I wasnae always how I am noo. Nessie's got a much better head on her shoulders than when I was a lad," he patted his granddaughter affectionately.

"You were a bit naive if I recall correctly. Bright eyed and bushy tailed," Ollivander chuckled, returning the wand as he began drafting up a hand written receipt.

"Bhan?" Nessia gasped, as if the idea of her grandfather being anything other than the strident retired Auror that she'd known for the entirety of her life.

"We all grow up, Nessie. I was no exception," he mused, mustache twitching in amusement. "Mr. Ollivander is one of the few who still remembers. Though I hae no doubt Professor McGonagall might as well. We went tae school together."

"I think there are still quite a few more who do, but you're unwilling to admit," Ollivander smiled. "That'll be 10 galleons."

Mr. Ollivander packed up the wand for Nessia, which he shared was about 13.5" and had a relatively hard flexibility to it, but he assured her that the wand was rather delighted to have her. Keeping the bundle tucked close to her chest, she followed her grandfather through the streets which had only grown more busy and sweltering as the afternoon peaked. Past the shops with the pets again and to the robes shop. They passed the front of a second hand store, about to continue when a voice called out.

"Oh! Mr. MacDougal—"

Nessia didn't recognize the voice as one of the typical visitors to their homestead and glanced up inquisitively toward her grandfather who froze and wrinkled his nose. A bemused smile tucked on her face as he turned mechanically and forced a pressed, but polite look onto his face. "Allo there," by the second hand shop was a man with a head full of bright, coppery red hair. "Been a while, Arthur. How's the Ministry?"

Arthur was tall, had a face full of freckles, and beamed excitedly up towards Angus. Beside him were two boys, both of which appeared to be of similar age to Nessia, but she didn't know for certain. Just as ginger as their father, they spared her curious looks. One tall, the other a little shorter and broad. Subconsciously, she waned toward her grandfather, but still stared nonetheless.

"Not half as well since you left for good, but it's nice to see you. I hear you don't often leave the highlands, so I'm surprised to see you in London," Arthur admitted politely. He didn't look like an Auror, but Nessia supposed that was a rather rude thing to think by assessing his weathered robes.

"Me granddaughter, Nessie, starts Hogwarts this year. We came tae get the last few things we needed. Logan had quite a bit o' supplies she can put to good use again," he patted her back. "These yer bairns?"

"Ah yes, my eldest Bill, who is in his third year. My second eldest, Charlie, is starting this year. Perhaps the two of you will be in the same classes or house," Arthur suggested, motioning to his sons respectively. "Boys, this is the legendary Auror, Angus MacDougal. He headed the Aurors for many years, fought against Grindelwald and helped during the Wizarding War with intel. I'm surprised you didn't stay around, join the Wizengamot-"

"Bunch o' pompous pr-" Angus started at the mention of the Wizengamot, cutting himself off before he cursed. Nessia snickered behind her hand. "Ah, too many years workin'. Aboot time I enjoy me home, avoid the stress of the Ministry. How's work been for ye, Arthur?"

"Good!" Arthur chirped, but even Nessia caught the fleeting anxious look on the man's face and her grandfather stiffening. "Busy as always," he chuckled, scratching the back of his head.

"Well, it was nice to see ye. Nessie and I still hae to get some supplies before headin' back north. Tell Molly and the other bairns I've said allo."

"It was nice tae meet ye," Nessia squeaked quickly, following Angus' lead, but still finding her manners. "I'll see ye at school."

"Will do. It was nice to see you," Arthur said, parting ways.

Once out of earshot, Nessia glanced up at her grandfather. "Ye dinnae seem tae happy to see him."

"Arthur is... very passionate," Angus grumbled. "He's a good man, but he's obsessed with muggles. Half the time I see him, I worry I'm gaunnae be stuck listening to him prattle on for hours."

"Oh, he's not an Auror?"

"Oh, nay, nay," Angus shook his head. "Works for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Tae be honest, that department's a bit ignored and underfunded... Ministry doesnae see the importance of it much, but we could learn so much from the muggles if we allowed our folk to study with better pay. Used to run into him when I grabbed me morning tea. Realized who I was, was a bit feart at first, but warmed up when he realized I wasnae gaunnae bite his head off. I suppose many other Aurors got their heads far up their own arses. Think they're better than people like Arthur. If any of them had as much passion for their job as Arthur, perhaps we wouldnae had so much of an issue with dark wizards like Ye-Ken-Who."

"Clan MacDougal always mingled with muggles."

"Aye, before Catholicism took hold. We had tae hide our abilities after, but we remained friendly with the muggle clans in the highlands," he added duly. "But not every wizardin' family thinks the same as we dae."

"I ken," Nessia shuddered. "That's why ye never accept those invitations that come from those other families. The Malfoys? Rosiers?"

Angus hummed in agreement. "Jus' posturin' to them. 'Look at what we have', when they dinnae work a day in their lives. Jus' takin' up space and lookin' pretty."

"They dinnae work? Whit do they dae?"

"Merlin kens," Angus rolled his eyes.

Madam Malkin's had a violet store front, a dapper, well dress family in the store display. She thought this one was considerably less dusty, as the mannequins were probably changed out enough that they didn't have enough time to collect half as much dust as the pillow in Ollivander's window. A plump, bright witch hummed around the shop and had her laden with packages as Angus commented about how thick the cloaks were and that a true highlander wouldn't need these to brave the winters in Scotland. While growing rosy cheeked at her grandfather's complaining, they acquired the necessary materials and hurried to collect the last few miscellaneous items. Without having to struggle with books, a cauldron, and the other items they had at home, they were able to easily settle down at the ice cream shop for a much needed treat amongst the heat of a strangely warm afternoon in London.

The path to the Floo hearths was a little choked up, various other patrons just as eager to head home after a successful day in acquiring their needs on Diagon Alley. While waiting in line, Nessia glanced up toward Angus.

"Bhan, we dinnae hae tae come back here, dae we?" Sweat was pouring down her neck, trickling down her back.

"Nay, not til September when ye hae to catch the train."

"The train!" Nessia whined. "But Hogwarts is not too far frae home."

"It's aboot the experience. Ye may meet yer best friends on the train," Angus wagged a brow at her.

Grousing quietly to herself, Nessia didn't shed light on the anxiety she felt surrounding the idea of having to find somewhere on a train to sit, let alone deal with not knowing a single soul. Sure, she knew the names of those two boys, but she didn't know them. To be fair, she didn't really know anyone. It was easy to get lost amongst her jungle at home, the pages of her journal, and the garden outside. There was Hoggle, Rowan, and Logan. Plus the merrow in the loch, which were quite conversational once she'd learned how to understand them. The centaurs were a bit standoffish, but they'd been polite to her.

Hoggle had located the books she needed for school, a couple of which were nearly falling apart because Logan had abused the spines. While the pages were intact—minus his maddened scribblings in a few books—she had to do some repairs of her own to prevent them from breaking further and threatening to actually spill necessary reading material everywhere.

"Knock, knock future Puff," Logan announced his presence, rapping upon the frame of her open door as he poked his head into the jungle.

"Och, ye dinnae ken that yet," Nessia huffed, blowing a few strands of hair from her face as she was sewing another binding back into place.

"Where else would ye go?" Logan stepped in, teasing his younger sister. "Ooh, sorry there. Those look as if they've weathered bein' beat by hippogriffs."

"Oh, yer sorry? Might've fixed 'em before ye handed em down tae me," Nessia quipped, but honestly wasn't that upset. The books still functioned.

"Well, how aboot I make it up to ye?" he offered.

"Ye gaunnae buy me new books?"

"How aboot I do ye one better? Ye got yer wand today, didn't ya?"

Opening the box in front of her, Nessia pulled out the pale wooden wand. "Aye, but I'm not supposed to practice magic outside of school."

"Not around Muggles," Logan corrected. "And if I remember correctly, there arenae any here. Yer perfectly allowed tae practice at home and we're quite remote. If anyone questions it, ye got me to vouch for ye."

Her brother's beguiling reassurances did little to quell the twanging nerves, plucking like an out of tune violin as she contemplated taking the bait. "Whit are ye gaunnae teach me?"

"A few defense spells—Och wait!"

"I dinnae need those. I'm not ye! I'm not gaunnae get into any fights—" Nessia objected immediately.

"Better to ken them and not need them than to be dumped on yer arse. Yer a MacDougal. Like it or not, we have a reputation to uphold and while Bhan will not say anything aboot it, I want to be certain no one picks on ye," Logan interrupted, raising a hand to deflect her disquiet.

"No one is gaunnae pick on me," Nessia snorted. "It's not like when ye went to school."

"Slytherin is still just as nasty as when I went. Yer better off, Nessie."

He wasn't going to drop it, causing her to groan at his insistence. "Fine, but I ken I'm gaunnae be foul at spellwork. Never been good at it before."

"Ye never had the chance tae really try. C'mon, let's go oot in the garden."

#harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #hogwarts mystery fanfic #growing up at hogwarts #original characters #prose filled

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margridarnauds · 4 years

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XCalibur: My Review

So, it’s been a couple of weeks since XCalibur came out and, while I’m trying to sort out my own thoughts about this, I decided to do what I do best: Force everyone to read an overly long, barely coherent post.

First off: Let’s get this off the ground. The fact that we got to see this at ALL was phenomenal. This is really, really fantastic, as a step for KMusicals getting a wider western audience, and it’s something that I DESPERATELY hope that they will continue to repeat in the future. I’d have supported it if it was anything, simply because that would give a clear message that there IS an audience for this.

However...

[warning for spoilers, brief discussions of rape]

Overall Impressions: Look....it’s WILDHORN. Wildhorn and me....we go way, way back. Like, to 12 Year Old Rachel listening to Jekyll and Hyde. And the Scarlet Pimpernel. And....quite a few musicals after that. I CAN’T hate it. It’s WILDHORN + ARTHURIANA. Two of my favorite things in the world. But, that being said....this might very well be my fault, but I did find myself a little disappointed, in the sense that, listening to the cast album, I was expecting a much, much better musical than what I really got. Which was a huge order to fill, given that I’ve always considered Artus: Excalibur to be one of Wildhorn’s more problematic musicals. But, in all fairness, they DID kind of promise me more, given that they retitled the musical and said that this was the “World Premiere”™. The set is fantastic, the music is stunning, but it just felt a little hollow to me.

Sets/Costuming: I LOVED the Dark Ages aesthetic to it. The costumes really were great, Morgana’s in particular stole the show, but Guinevere, Merlin, Arthur, and Lancelot gets some nice looks as well, and it all serves to give this idea of the Middle Ages (albeit HEAVILY preying on the old stereotype that it was The Dark Ages, with a very dark color palette generally being observable throughout). This also serves to make it visually very distinct from the Korean production of La Legende du Roi Arthur, given the two of them showed VERY close to one another. (2019 was just the year of the Arthurian musical.) As a Celticist....it isn’t REALLY historically accurate, it’s still fantasy, albeit more Guy Ritchie’s Arthur VS The Crystal Cave Trilogy in terms of how MUCH fantasy it utilizes. LRA (and Artus: Excalibur) took the approach of it being PURELY fantasy, there is....nothing. Historical. In there. One thing that irked me about Artus was that it, in particular, had a CHEAP feeling, like it had roughly as much thought put into it as a 80s comic book idea of Camelot that they were going to slap on the back of a cereal box or something. (LRA, to its credit, was GLORIOUSLY anachronistic, but it was high budget and sleek. I loved it for that.) XCalibur is TRYING for a more historical feel, and, for the most part, it does succeed. Whether the set is a forest, a deserted hall, or Camelot in its prime, they SELL the medievalism. It’s a bit of a pity there’s no WELSHNESS to it, but that is me being nitpicky about my field not being in there. For an Arthurian adaptation, I’m not really going to ask for anything more; it gives what it promises and it does it well. (Though I will say that, every once in a while, one of those costumes would flash in the stage lighting and I would question whether I’d seen that gold fabric at a Ren Faire etsy. BUT in all fairness, those costumes weren’t designed to be viewed in close up like that, and this is probably me being needlessly mean. OVERALL, the effect was good.)

Music: It’s a Frank Wildhorn musical, so of COURSE I’m going to like the music. This is DEFINITELY a stronger musical than Artus, with several new songs (including “The Tempest”, “Let the Sword Make the Man”, and “If he were standing here”, both of which are highlights to me) that really stand out. Since settling himself firmly in the Asian market, Wildhorn’s stuff has developed a polish that wasn’t really there in his Broadway stuff. It sounds much more modern, much more streamlined, with Death Note, the Man Who Laughs, Robespierre, and Mata Hari all having a distinct SOUND that I’ve started to call Wildhorn 2.0. There’s this distinct energy that runs through this production that wasn’t really there in Artus, and I found that it makes the cast album REALLY a treat to listen to. As with Artus, “Celtic” (which, in this case, of course, means “Riverdance”) musical motifs are present in the instrumentals, but I found it MUCH less heavy handed than before, and it’s evenly balanced out by more traditional tunes. I didn’t feel like it was AS overloaded as before, where I routinely found myself napping in between swelling instrumentals.

As with all of Wildhorn’s stuff, there are certain songs that sound very similar to other musicals of his, if you know what to look for. “Why am I here?” for example is nearly a carbon copy of “Who do you Trust?” from Tears of Heaven and “Wenn das Shicksal dich ereilt” from Rudolf, which themselves form part of a distinct genre of his songs that can be traced back to “The Riddle” from The Scarlet Pimpernel and “You and I” from Svengali. “The Mark of the Wolf”, a new song, sounds very similar at points to “How Many devils?” from The Civil War. Etc. etc. I don't really consider this a BAD part, at least in the case of the former, since the songs in that genre, to me, represent the best of Wildhorn’s music. And, after all, with over 30 years on stage....the man can only come up with new music for so long until he starts producing SOMETHING that sounds similar.

Overall verdict? Strong music. Not my FAVORITE of Wildhorn’s stuff, but I’ve definitely spent a few hours listening to the cast album on its own merits, and definitely more energetic and polished than the German run to my ear.

Plot: So, a big draw for me was “Has the plot been fixed from the days of Artus: Excalibur?” and.....I have many mixed feelings. I DO feel like we got more of a solid musical, but I also feel like it had some really, really sour notes and, in some ways, the transition to a new musical feels only half-way done. Like, they HAD a new musical in mind, they went halfway through the process, and then they shrugged their shoulders, said “That’s good enough”, and left us with a Frankenstein’s Monster. (Oh, wait, wrong KMusical.)

One of the biggest casualties was Morgana. Morgan le Fay has been one of my favorite characters in anything, ever since I was 7 years old and developing one of my first crushes via The Magic Treehouse. Morgana is always the FIRST one I look to in an adaptation to see how they handle her, and her plotline in Artus always felt weak for me, ESPECIALLY her relationship with Merlin, which Wildhorn once described as something along the lines of a “bit of a romance” but that was painfully underdeveloped, especially on her end. We knew that he was weak for her, to his detriment, we knew that she wanted what he had, and that they do.....the do together, but there’s very little REAL development in there, and no sign, on my end, of that “little bit of romance” as opposed to just. Using one another. When I heard that that plotline had been revised, I was THRILLED. Now, I feel like it was a monkey’s paw situation.

(1) Morgana goes from more or less apathetic to Merlin’s situation to.......being totally obsessed with him, to the point where she says he’s the only man she ever loved? Like, she goes from someone HIGHLY motivated by what she believes is her rightful inheritance to being motivated by Merlin’s dick.

(2) The timeline. My God, the timeline. Making Morgana a child when she’s shipped off AND then doing the “Only man I ever loved” thing (and SEEMING to imply that Merlin did love her as well, but refused to say it) is.....it’s bad. No other way around it. They did NOT think that timeline through.

(3) I HATED Guinevere getting Morgana in the back with an arrow, but you know? That was yet another monkey’s paw situation, given that at least it wasn’t “Morgana falling for a very obvious ploy that she SHOULD have seen coming from a mile away if she wasn’t, as has been established, obsessed with Merlin’s dick.”

I will say that, reworking the plot so that Morgana’s obsessed with Merlin’s dick DID work out better in the sense that at least the Madonna/Whore complex with her and Guinevere isn’t really there: We no longer see Evil, Sexy Morgana VS Sweet Forest Maiden Guinevere, and Guinevere in this version of the musical is allowed to be much gutsier than her German counterpart. They did give her quite a bit of character as opposed to “Naive Girl who believes Arthur is The Best but finds out Wrong”. Now, that gutsiness flies out the window once she marries Arthur and is mainly confined to singing sad songs and stepping in between Arthur and Lancelot, but see above for Frankenstein’s Monster.

I will say that I did appreciate that this adaptation was willing to really give us a DEEPLY flawed Arthur; it’s something I’ve seen relatively little of post-White in terms of Arthurian adaptations, and it’s something I’ve missed. (Once Upon A Time’s Evil Arthur notwithstanding.) Arthur is really rarely allowed to BE a character in his own right, he has to be an Ideal™ or, if he’s a flawed character, flawed in an acceptable, palatable way; here, he’s an angry young man who’s shoved into a position that he’s not really qualified for and has to grow into it. He shoves people away, he shouts, he trusts Morgana too blindly, and he basically causes the Guinevere/Lancelot situation on his lonesome. It’s actually a little great to see.

BUT. But. Monkey’s paw. I LIKED seeing Arthur being a little bitch on occasion, but, for better or worse, he is our main character. And, outside of his bonding scenes with Guinevere and Lancelot early on, we really....don’t get to see that many scenes where he’s LIKABLE. There are a few moments (the scene where he tries to get Morgana to dance at his coronation is ADORABLE), but the first time we’re really introduced to him, he’s in a fight, he (understandably) snaps at Merlin, decides that, hey, being king might not be so bad, is fun for a little while, and then he spends a solid chunk of the second act being a dick because his father died. I don’t really know. I feel like this is going to be one of those things that I keep rolling over in my mind, as far as whether I REALLY like HIM as a main character, or whether I like those individual moments where he’s likable.

A part of me liked that we had, instead of the two siblings fighting during “Was Will Ich Hier”, we have Morgana and Arthur bonding. That sibling bond was, in my opinion, one of the more interesting possible dynamics in the show. But, unfortunately, the resulting conflict with Merlin felt very “been there, done that.” It’s more PLAUSIBLE than in cases where, say, the Enemy of the Week poses as a little girl and suddenly the main cast, who have known one another for twenty years, are suddenly slinging accusations against one another, but it STILL felt rather forced and predictable.

I was actually really grateful that we didn’t have the Morgana/Lot relationship in this particular production--Making Morgana an actual domestic abuse victim and then killing her off NEVER sat well with me, but as a result of that, now we have this situation where we have two more or less unconnected villains: Morgana and Wulfstan, and the plot only really needed one. Wulfstan, as a character, just....isn’t interesting. He’s a more or less generic “Barbarian Warlord” type who’s pissed Arthur killed his son and creeps on Morgana. I can’t REALLY say anything more there. Their plotlines intersect in the very beginning, when they capture Morgana and she guides them to Uther’s old castle, but other than that, there’s a general disconnect between them, and there’s no real PAYOFF to that. Instead, it just feels like it makes the plot needlessly busy.

One thing I’ve noticed, with both La Legende du Roi Arthur and XCalibur, is this pressure to fit as MUCH Arthurian in as possible, and as a result, the final musicals become rather crowded, so there’s no real time for DEVELOPMENT or substance.

“Okay, we have to have the pulling from the sword here!” “Right!” “Hm, Morgana le Fay is one of the most iconic antagonists, we probably need her there.” “Saxons?” “Sure!” “Everyone’s expecting Lancelot and Guinevere, we can’t not have them in there.”

I FEEL like XCalibur is LESS bogged down than LRA with regards to that factor, since the latter also threw in Maleagant as a secondary antagonist to Morgana and the Grail quest, but I still feel like XCalibur bit off more than it could really chew. Which is a pity, because there are Arthurian plot lines that have gotten comparatively little attention in recent days that you could include instead of going the “Paint By Numbers” route.

This also really shows in how it deals with certain plot lines, which are either dropped (Wulfstan V. Morgana), or come out of nowhere. This is REALLY obvious with Lancelot/Guinevere, which is a pity because I found myself, against my own will, rooting for them more than any other pairing in the show. Lancelot goes from a cocky lady’s man to...suddenly being smitten with Guinevere.....and then suddenly, after Guinevere is sad about Arthur being a dick, the two of them are fucking. Now, it would be NATURAL, as far as “Guinevere goes to Lancelot when she feels like Arthur’s being cold to her”, but we don’t SEE that. We literally cut from her in the forest, singing a sad song, and the next time we see them, they’re postcoital. It feels like it comes out of NOWHERE. My investment in them, as a couple, is more due to the strength of the two actors involved than the actual WRITING, which thinks that because the BEDROCK for something is there (”Oh, Guinevere beat Lancelot in combat! Oh, she feels neglected!”) that that means the house is there as well (”Oh, Guinevere beat Lancelot in common....so NOW he’s totally in love with her and is never going to flirt with another woman again. Oh, Guinevere is feeling abandoned by Arthur.......so we don’t NEED to see her going to Lancelot.”) They jump from Point A to point D and the audience is left with a sense of whiplash.

Some things, like Merlin’s actions re: Igraine and Uther, as well as Morgana, are just not explored to a depth that I would really find is satisfactory. “Oh, I did all these terrible things....because of Fate!” is something that we’re REALLY supposed to pull behind, but, given the pain to everyone involved, ESPECIALLY the women (Igraine, Morgana, and Guinevere ALL suffer from Destiny™), you have to REALLY wonder if there was literally anyone else who could have done it.

...so, really. BBC Merlin. BBC Merlin.

MOVING ON FROM MY SALT...as a medievalist, I was actually relatively happy that for ONCE in an Arthurian adaptation, the conflict between Christianity and paganism (WHICH HONESTLY WASN’T EVEN THAT MUCH OF A CONFLICT IN TERMS OF THE CELTIC WORLD, BUT MOVING ON) was presented as being pro-Christian. I’ve dealt with WAY too much media, in my time, that treats, say, 8th century Catholicism in Ireland the same as 16th century Catholicism in Spain, and NO. They were VERY distinct. I am saying this as a confirmed, happy atheist. They were distinct. I do not need or want The Mists of Avalon 10.0 on my screen, no thank you.

That being said...Monkey’s Paw. Monkey’s Paw. I was NOT happy to see the conflict presented as “Christianity taking over is Destined and Good, the Old Ways™ have had their time.” There’s this rather ugly fatalism that runs through it, along with the idea that followers of the pagan tradition HAD to die for Christianity to take its place. It’s...not my favorite thing in the world. Perhaps I’m simply unpleasable in this aspect, but there has GOT to be some medium between the two. Maybe this is my Medieval Irish Bias seeping through here, given that, with what I’m used to, the druids were mentioned in law books through the 8th century. I own this. (”But Rachel,” you might say, reasonably, “This isn’t 8th century Ireland”, to which I would of course say, “BUT IT SURE AS HELL ISN’T 6TH CENTURY WALES OR CORNWALL EITHER.”) Medieval people, historically, while they didn’t REALLY have religious tolerance as we know it, didn’t always see it in stark terms of “PAGANISM IN ONE CORNER, CHRISTIANITY IN ANOTHER”: They were, as a whole, FAIRLY good at integrating aspects of both in, even when they didn’t really mean to. The entire thing is just mangled horribly.

Anyway. Celtic Studies Salt Over.

Actors/Actresses: I’ll be honest, I was expecting, primarily, Morgana, Arthur, and Lancelot to pull the plot along, mainly because they get, together, most of the primary numbers, and because, in the German, Sabrina Weckerlin essentially carried the show on her back. As it was, Kim So Hyang’s Guinevere was the one who REALLY, in my opinion, ended up carrying the show. She had a wonderful voice, strong voice, and her Guinevere was able to make a full, smooth journey between a young, bold girl to the troubled wife of a troubled king to a woman wracked with regret. I’ve seen her in a lot of things, but I don’t think I really NOTICED her until now. She did some truly phenomenal work here, I was really glad, actually, that I got to see and appreciate her Guinevere. (Though, as a Min Kyung Ah fan....I would have LOVED to have seen her Guinevere.) She had great chemistry with both of her leads, lending credibility to both relationships, more than the script itself might really give.

Kai isn’t really an actor I ever really LOOK for in a musical, I wouldn’t say that I’m a MASSIVE fan, but that’s only because I don’t actively search for his stuff. Every time I’ve seen him in something, he’s been solid, and I did very much like him in the press calls. It does seem a little unfair that he got both the press calls AND the pro-shot, but c’est la vie. I did like his Arthur, he had a steady voice to back up the role, his acting was solid. Arthur, as a character, doesn’t REALLY stick out for me, but that isn’t HIS fault so much as the script’s, really, and my pre-built in bias towards Morgana. I didn’t find him to be REALLY likable in the role, very angry and sullen, but.....well. See above for my take on Arthur’s general likability here. I do think the man did the best with what he had, though I also feel like he’s more natural in Arthur’s dorkier, more relatable moments, especially with, say, Guinevere, Morgana, and Lancelot. (Though I’m not sure if that’s because I like Arthur as a CHARACTER more there or if I’m reacting to his ACTING in the role. This is one of those times where I’d have really liked to see Do Kyum or Junsu’s take on the role, since that would help me iron out what parts are the WRITING and what are the actor, but, lacking that, I’m going to err on the side of generosity.)

Shin Young Sook....I WANTED to like her Morgana. I did. But, I’ll be blunt, even as far back as the press call, I was feeling Jang Eun Ah’s Morgana more, I was, definitely, feeling a little disappointed when the proshot cast list was announced. So, in some ways, the poor woman would have had to have done miracles to get me to REALLY warm up to her. And I didn’t really see miracles on the stage. Her voice remains reliable, she is a belter like few others on the Korean stage. I give her that. But her acting basically totally ruined the character for me. My issues with the role, as detailed in the “Plot” section, aside, I believe that the overall character COULD be salvaged, from an audience perspective, with a nuanced enough portrayal. But, when I saw this particular take on Morgana...I didn’t see MORGANA. I saw Shin Young Sook, Having Fun, instead of Morgana, as portrayed by Shin Young Sook. An actress having fun in a role can definitely be GREAT (Park Hye Na as Eva in Frankenstein is one role of hers I will cherish forever), but in this case, which required a lot of nuance to pull it off and make the villain sympathetic....it does clash when you can tell that she’s one step away from evilly cackling and releasing a final belt before running off the stage. There is a time to ham and there is a time to not, and this was one of the “not” roles. There came some point, perhaps during the song “Desire”, perhaps before it, that I actively started DREADING Morgana appearing on stage. I don’t KNOW that Jang Eun Ah would have done it better. She could have done it worse. But it is a tragedy of only having a single cast available that I will always wonder. I was disappointed here. I was really, really disappointed.

Kim Jun Hyun as Merlin was solid. It’s well known at this point that I have a soft spot for him, but for what it’s worth, on a comparative level, I feel like this role suited him much better than, say, Orléans in Marie Antoinette (where, personally, though still liking him, I found him a little too cold for my taste). He is appropriately distant and otherworldly, showing a human side and conflict as the musical continues. Is he enough to make me LIKE Merlin, as a character? Not really, given how many people suffer because of him and how little the narrative actually QUESTIONS it, but damned if he doesn’t try, and he does lend a subdued charisma to the character, to the point where I know that at least some people noticed him more than they did Arthur or Lancelot. I did think he had -40 chemistry with Shin Young Sook, but that could be because I was ALREADY attached to him and Jang Eun Ah’s chemistry in the press call, and that is not so much a failing on one actor’s side or the other’s (I want to emphasize this, because I do NOT have anything against Shin Young Sook SPECIFICALLY on this point), rather it’s something that can’t really be qualified. (And is entirely subjective, I’m sure that plenty of viewers saw NOTHING wrong.) For me, it did cause me to actively cringe at certain scenes, such as the “This is where your Arthur came from”......”seduction”.....scene.

“Lord....I actually have fewer problems saying no to this than you might think, nvmind.”

It COULD be that that’s the look of conflicting desire, but to me, personally, watching it, it rather looks like Merlin just realized that he forgot to turn the stove off at home. Which is a pity, because I was REALLY going in here expecting to like Merlin/Morgana more than the love triangle and instead found it to be very awkwardly handled. I haven’t ENTIRELY given up on it as a ship, in some abstract way that would involve another rewrite of the entire musical, but I can’t REALLY say that there’s. Anything I like about it either. And I think that if I was less stubbornly determined to find SOMETHING in it to like, I’m fairly certain I would be even more uncomfortable with it.

My final verdict: Watching this, despite some impressive visuals (though not QUITE to the same level as fellow Wildhorn musicals The Man Who Laughs, Dracula, and Mata Hari) and performances, I found myself continually wanting to go back to the cast album rather than actually WATCH the musical. Changes have been made since the German production, but I found that, while some of the changes definitely served to make a stronger musical, some of them actively weakened the show, and it's still a little too busy for its own good. I’m also not REALLY sure that the changes made really justified it being given the label World Premiere™, given the hype around it. If it was available for streaming again, would I do it? Yes, because it IS worth at least one watch and the industry NEEDS to do this more. If it was available to buy, even, for $20 or so, I would probably get it. But I’m not sure that, if it was for the~ $100 price that Toho musicals tend to sell for, I would seriously be able to say “Yes, get this”, and I’m not sure that, if an American/European tour of it was miraculously announced, I would REALLY bend over backwards to get tickets.

6/10

Tl;dr: “WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY SISTER?”

#xcalibur #artus: excalibur #arthuriana #excalibur crit #(For anyone who doesn't want this in the tags)#long post

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 4 years

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So 5x18...

...Well hot d*mn.

Man when Supergirl fires on all cylinders...HOO BOY.

Case in point: *gestures to all of 5x18*

To be clear: I liked this one.

A WHOLE LOT.

Not that I disliked 5x17, necessarily. It’s just that 5x18 was more... Entertaining? ...I dunno. I dunno how to explain it.

...Okay yes I do and that explanation is: Someone remarked on Kara’s use of language and Kara overcompensated on the ‘NOooOOooOO I’m totally 100% normal!’ AND there was a musical quote AND it was WHILE TEAMING UP WITH ALEX TO FOLLOW A LEAD.

But I’m getting ahead of myself let’s backtrack...

TO THE TOWER! WITH ALEX! NIA! KARA! AND M’GAAAAAANNNNN!!!!!!

June Foray voice: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?!?!?!

I know I’m not the first person to make that reference but it’s always fitting and, for real, recurring character status WHEN. (I mean. Obviously I would prefer series regular but that feels like a big ask considering that all future TV production is...uh. Ah. Erm....

...Up in the air. At the moment.)

And then we check in with the Luthors and Non Nocere isn’t working???

I am shocked! Shocked, I say!

And then we’ve got Obsidian doing something ill-advised which is basically the company’s MO at this point but KELLY AND WILLIAM ARE ON THE CASE REGARDLESS.

(So that’s kinda the one thing I’m sad about re: the Crisis reset; Andrea’s character development. But she’s sticking around for next season so I’m not too upset that she remains...kinda...one note for now.)

And THEN the library scene.

It was so gooooood.

Then Leviathan and okay. Alright. Okay. Huge points in this episode’s favor: Rama Khan feels like a far more significant threat. And I feel like 80% of that is the fact that they just let him wear normal clothes. Thank you, show. Thank. You.

Also the rock effects were way better in this episode because they weren’t footing the bill for a giant crossover episode this time around

I am a little confused, though, by what has and has not happened with regards to Rama Khan on Earth Prime. Did the pre-Crisis stuff...happen? The dialogue...kinda made it hard to decide one way or the other. ‘He hasn’t been seen on this Earth for 100s of years’ but then also, ‘a chilly place you know quite well.’ So...he...did go to the Fortress. And fight Kara? But...all that stuff before Crisis...???

...Not gonna bother with that right now.

POINT IS...Leviathan is finally like...invested in killing Supergirl* and menacing in a very real way which both raises the stakes and makes it personal and that’s way more interesting than ‘nebulous evil organization that must be stopped.’

*I know they kinda sorta already did the whole, ‘let’s kill the Kryptonian!’ and invaded the Fortress but I don’t know what to tell ya, it was just lackluster.

J’ONN AND M’GAAAAAANNNNN

I am firmly in camp: I don’t care if they’re never green again I love seeing them in the super suits with their human faces IT’S GREAT.

Love that Nia’s snoring interrupts the moment.

Also love the deck of Rama Khan playing cards, that must’ve been a fun project for the graphic designers.

Then we’ve got William and Kara at CatCo and it’s baked goods! A hilarious line delivery by Staz! A ridiculous fabrication involving a shy, violent cat!

...Now I want Alex to actually own a shy, violent cat!

“Cats love me, for some reason.” “Of course they do.”

Side note: Love Kara’s blazer.

And then it’s ALIEEEEEENS TO THE RESCUE!

WHAT A TEAM UP, FOLKS.

We love to see it.

The interrogation scene is good n’ tense and ramps up to a very impressive showdown in the DEO (but BEFORE the sparks really start flying we get that rad shot of Kara leaping through the window and doing the superhero landing and it’s just

Perfection.)

Also perfect? Lex playing a game of transmatter pickle with the prisoners.

Then we jump back to the DEO where things are not going well!

Like, really really bad!

But J’onn and M’gann save the day! If not the building!

RIP DEO. 2016-2020

Obituary: The DEO headquarters is survived by its elder sibling, the DEO desert base.

Look none of the favs work there anymore save for Kara and Brainy and they’re both gonna be better off working freelance for J’onn but I do expect Brainy to at least pick up some additional cash by working as a Lyft driver next season.

Me, watching the characters struggle to make it in the gig economy: I feel so seen.

The final portion of the episode is just ALL ACTING and I must say...good stuff.

Like. This cast, man. They take the plot points I’ve been ‘meh’ about all season and they turn in some stellar performances and suddenly I’m like STANDING OVATION, CAN’T WAIT TO SEE WHERE THIS GOES.

Also, reason #342 I love Jon Cryer’s Lex: that scene with Lena.

Terrifying.

Full disclosure: I went in to this episode fully prepared to be really annoyed with whatever was going to happen with Lena and I still don’t...love the trajectory of this season, being so tied up in her personal drama but.

But.

Katie McGrath’s performance...went an awful long way here. In making this...not as bad as it could have been.

Like tearfully admitting she was hurt? And that hurt was the basis of all the nonsense she pulled? Finally owning up to the fact that this was never truly about the greater good but that it was all rooted in some personal issues and OUTRIGHT STATING SHE WAS BEHAVING LIKE A VILLAIN????

I am. Extremely impressed.

EVEN MORE IMPRESSIVE THOUGH: Kara remaining distant both physically and emotionally throughout that scene! Not in like, a cold uncaring way, but in a, ‘I have emotions and I have a right to feel them and set boundaries in regards to my trusting you right now given all that has transpired’ kind of way.

GOOD. YES. GOOD.

(Lex’s outburst has that kind of same Nice Guy undertone--albeit more pronounced and rage-y--as Lena’s in the Fortress. Like, ‘I supported you and you still rejected my plot to take over the world’ and ‘I was kind to you and you still messed up my mind control’ which...I dunno I might just be digging in too deep here in order to further justify the character turn but I think Cryer’s performance regardless is a really sobering wake up call for Lena, different than Lex stuff we’ve seen before. It’s close and intense and uncomfortable in a way that really sells the motivation.)

“You’re a monster...but that doesn’t mean I have to be one too.”

Wow. Might be...the first time I’ve liked Lena all season.

...whispers: might be the first time I’ve liked her ever at all

For real: credit where it’s due, that was an excellent line read.

*insert applause here*

CUT TO ADORABLE J’ONN AND M’GANN MOMENT

D’aaaawwwwwwwwww

But, look, it’s a little undermined by the fact that they both gotta try and embrace in those bulky super suits, I’m sorry, it’s true

...Maybe it’s more endearing that way?

HEY remember how I foolishly assumed that the now-unemployed Alex would simply continue to work with J’onn in an investigative capacity and, ya know, NOT jump straight back into costumed badassery?

HA. HAHA HAHAAAA.

Those leaked set photos make sense now.

OH NO, WILLIAM!

Real glad Staz confirmed he’s returning. Otherwise I would not be able to DEAL WITH THE STRESS.

I already talked a little bit about the loft scene but some additional points! Beautiful lighting. Wonderful score. Excellent performances all around.

A truly great end to a truly great episode.

Like, it makes me retroactively sad, that we’re only getting 5x19, as opposed to 5x19 and 5x20 because I wish that the crew/writers/actors had a little more space to let all of this good work they’ve done settle and breathe.

(But also, it was good that they stopped production, from a safety standpoint, so. Can’t be too upset.)

And, regardless of how the next episode goes down (b/c I’m gonna be real, SG always does really great set-ups for their season finales and then kinda...rushes to the finish line and that can only be further exacerbated in this particular case) I’m just really impressed with this effort here.

...but also LET’S TAKE THIS OPPORTUNITY TO MAKE SOME WILD GUESSES. Specifically, what is Alex’s vigilante name gonna be???

...

Alright I generally try to avoid addressing specific fandom complaints in these things b/c I generally try to avoid the fandom itself but of course some stuff has already leaked through all of my blocks/muting so:

‘Lena didn’t apologize!’ The words ‘I’m sorry’ were not said, sure, but 1.) season’s not over and 2.) for Lena, admitting she was wrong is huge. HUUUUUUUGE. It’s solid character growth and I really wish various subsets of fandom would recognize that it’s not fun, when fans hold on to negative stuff from characters’ past and refuse to acknowledge that the characters have changed.

‘Brainy should have seen this coming!’ This one is kind of more down to personal preference I guess but I feel like they’ve established that Brainy’s got a bit of a blindspot due to his feelings about his friends, so I don’t take this as a knock against his intelligence so much as him being stretched fairly thin because he’s playing all sides, and worried about the people he loves. YMMV, though.

All the ‘fix-it’ stuff re: the last scene, by making Kara immediately forgive Lena. Lose me with that nonsense, bleh.

#SG post #long post #supergirl spoilers #5x18 spoilers

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chromeskiesstuff · 4 years

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The Killing of Three Thousand Crows Recap EP 1 三千鸦杀

This drama has been a huge blast - I am 8 EPs in and the plot, characters are wonderful and refreshing. The main leads are a hoot themselves, being very hilarious and have their own unique personalities. Props to CGI and costume theme who does their best to make it realistic while in budget, in particularly the costumes feel so natural and pretty.

So just a brief introduction:

This is a Xianxia adaptation from novel of the same name. Xianxia = it involves immortals. Our heroine, Yan Yan, or with her adult/real name Qin Chuan (覃川) is a mortal princess of her country and it has been destroyed by the demon people. Her people are slain and she vowed to kill off each and every demon people to bring peace to her people.

The Male Lead is Jiu Yun (九云), a powerful young immortal who has a crush on her, and he has seen through her ten lives/ previous reincarnation.

We started off with our male lead, Jiu Yun and his friend. His friend ponders why he is sharing with him a drawing by his Shifu/Master and what is it about.

He replied that this was about a war where drums are beating, and bones anre piling up. He also said he didn’t understand the meaning of the drawing for thousand years.

The cinematography is pretty amazing and the narration done by Zhen Ye Cheng (yes our Male lead does his own dubbing along with Zhao Luo Si) is nothing short of haunting. The sequence is written in a semi-classical format, and its a thing of beauty when it combines with great cinematography, great colour combinations, great symbolism (eg drums that reinvigorate a dying party) , great prose and great narration. Look at her red robes flowing in harsh winter while hitting the drums. Maybe I should translate this part later :D

His friend retorted. “It’s normal for mortals to be in war”. He replied "I finally met her yesterday. I have been searching for her for a thousand years” while the screen switch to her facing her enemies alone.

I presume she didn’t survive. Based on some notes on the novel this was her past life. Anyway I really dig these prologues as of late as its normally shot wonderfully and in a simplistic manner + introduce the whole thing.

The scene switched to an enormous paper bird flying down to a city.

I love the design of the paper bird. Its delicate. Can I have one for a Mercedes?

Our heroine slept at class, slacking off from learning paper folding spells which is a secret skill of Dali royalty. He also scold her that she have already learn for a year but she knew nothing.Her Shifu challenges her to make ten paper crane.

She could fight with Bai Qian with tardiness though what Bai Qian did is even more crayy

She defended herself that paper folding spells emphasize on making it freely/casually. Under her shifu threat, she back off, saying she can do it anyway, but instead she made a frog.

The sequence is amazing btw. The CGI is really on point here :D

The paper container too is delightfully designed. Along with the sunscreen panels at the background

The set design and the headdress. Its amazing. Look at the Peach blossom background :D. And I enjoyed her acting a lot. She displays the right amount of mischievousness here :D

Our princess met with her brother and to cheer her up, her brother shows her a painting he obtained. She said the painting is fine but not worth two to three thousand coins.

Yeap. It looks like regular drawing even from my POV. But I hope whoever drawing this is not offended T_T (based on TMOPB the artist will normally on set whenever their artwork is shown)

He asks her to look at it carefully. Soon the garden turns into winter, and winter plum blossom starts blooming, and sometime later it turns back to normal. She excitedly asks him where he obtains the painting. He told her he obtained it from the famed painter, Gongzi Qi (公子齐).

Cue hilarity ensured of Gongzi Qi being synonymous with celebrity, full-on with fans dying to have his artwork and to see him, and her brother the prince being very excited to obtain one. While looking for the artist, a scroll appears on his hand and he looks both happy and confused.

Here’s how he describes Gongzi Qi:

Gongzi Qi, he was rumoured to be extremely handsome, with one of the kind drawing skills. He was rumoured to apply rare immortal spells to his artwork.

She muses that man is too proud. And if Gonzi Qi said his art skills are his second-best skill, then his music skills should be out of the world. Her brother said he wrote a song titled East Wind Peach Blossom Flower .. nope it's half a song not a full song (WTF XD) and he refuses to write the other half, saying that no dancer will be able to dance this song (I see you Gongzi Qi, you are tempting her). Indeed our princess is up to the challenge and asks her brother to request him to finish the song so she can dance to it.

The siblings then visit their cousin, where her brother advises her not to be rude. Apparently their aunt and cousin are attending their mom’s 40th birthday celebration.

After greetings and praises, the two women throwing barbs at each other, we know that Xuan Zhu (玄珠，the cousin) recently start to learn immortal skills under a mysterious teacher. Their barbs become a quarrel, causing their companions to try to rein them in. Yan Yan excuses herself. The quarrel continues as both are tugging a purple handkerchief.

A man came in. Yan Yan seems to be jealous that this guy (Zuo Zi Chen, 左紫辰) seems to come here to visit Xuan Zhu. He clarifies that he is here on behalf of his father to see her cousins. She instantly brightens up and let him go.

OK, first crush? And guy seems to be interested.

At the court, the King seems to be really worried about Tian Yuan, as they have usurped three countries around Dali. He is also worried as his prime minister Zuo (Zi Chen dad) applies for retirement at this time due to health. He announces that he will pay a visit to Prime Minister Zuo.

Our Prime Minister seems quite healthy (healthier than the king!!) and performs some ritual that's clearly demonic.

This is performed in front of a satan like figure. That's demonic even in Taoist book right?

Our prince got the sheet music, but with a bet from Gongzi Qi: She must be able to perform it, else he will make her a laughing stock. While visiting the prime minister, she took the opportunity to visit Zi Chen. She blocks him from visiting the king. Instead, she wants him to ask him something on the new music sheet she obtained since he is extremely good with music.

uwuuw the music sheets are so pretty

Zi Chen was amazed since he never saw such complicated tunes. There is a catch though. The verse she pointed out is rather bloody and will cause the audience and the performer to feel very sad, totally inappropriate for a birthday celebration. He answers the way to go is to change the tunes from a sad tone to a happy one.

Girl is clearly enamored with him and his skills. He turned around and ask whether his modified tunes sounds right. She thinks it's great. And she gifted him a hairpin, helping him to wear the new hairpin. She finishes pining the hairpin and touches his face. He reciprocates by grabbing her hand tenderly

OMG I must say this scene is so well done. Very tender, and little words need to be said.

After she left, his father looks for him. He looks anything but friendly. He asks whether he knew the reason the king came. Oh gosh, the prince is way too naive. His father is clearly plotting about something. But he is a young man in the midst of meeting his first love, maybe that's why he didn't catch on the shenanigans.

The Princess is totally unaware of the plot tho, she happily shares her joy with her maid, Aman and hoping for the day Zi Chen will marry her. She also declares that she will be able to conquer the tough music sheets and it will prove Zi Chen's musicality is superior to Gongzi Qi.

At night Gongzi Qi visited her, leaving her a note. She wakes up and declared again that she will win their bet. Gongzi Qi hears her in the court garden and leaves with a smile.

It seems like the budget is spent on the prince wardrobe. His gear looks very natural and menacing ha. But the candles deco is totally inferior to TMOPB Ye Hua house. Maybe the Demon People are saving the $ for war?

Yan Yan dance is stellar, she interprets the music sheets beautifully, with peach blossoms,snow and leaves. The audience including her brother, Zi Chen, and Gongzi Qi are amazed.

Oh wow the music is wonderful. It reminds me of TMOPB EP30 Peach blossom scene OST - the warm and sweet feel kinda touch. And the dance is shot beautifully. Although I think some of the dance moves are done by a professional dancer? Not a problem imo since one of the most beautiful performances in cdrama history is choreographed by a dancer.

And YESSSS.... his wardrobe is really on point here and the angles the cinematographer take is really good. He is not your conventionally attractive lead so I understand that some angles will not stand out. Kudos to the production team!

The dance ended and Gongzi Qi was shocked that she changed the ending of his sheet music. HA, SO YOU KNOW SHE IS GONNA PERFORM AT HER MUM’S BIRTHDAY BASH PARTY AND YOU WRITE HER A BLOODY TUNE? lmao he is pissed and serves him right XD. And what's wrong with your bestie XD? He seems to have a tendency to pine after a married woman.

They met Shifu who seems to be their ShiXiong (Elder brother disciple). Shifu reminded Gonzi Qi that since he is an immortal, he shouldn’t involve with mortal matters especially when Yan Yan is still very young. Gongzi Qi asks if he insists on doing it? Shifu replied that her fate has been decided and he shouldn’t go against fate. He seems to accept that decree and he hands over a huge scroll of painting, requesting Shifu to pass it to her.

Note: The reason why Shifu is able to involve is that he owes a debt to the Dali Royal family per the book.

At night the city is being attacked, and Yan Yan wakes up feeling happy and refreshed. She saw the painting scroll, both her and her maid marvelled at the painting and she told her maid that she wants to go outside alone to visit Zi Chan.

Meanwhile, Zi Chan father sent his son away “ For praying in the temple. Do request for glory at Royal Court”. His son wonders as his dad will not need it because he is retiring. His dad replies smoothly that it’s for Zi Chan. Zi Chan wanted to pray for his father’s health, and his father praised him lightly, sending him away. Looks like he is sending him away for safety.

COMMENTS

I have been waiting for this drama for some time, and luckily they are no longer stuck in broadcasting hell. This EP has a lot to unpack, introducing the background and characters. I feel this EP wonderfully introduces multiple characters while making Yan Yan and Zi Chan characters unique. Yan Yan character is sweet while slightly spoiled, she is still very charming herself, and have all the characteristics of a well-loved high born lady. Zi Chan too stands out as the highly ranked son, with his politeness and his crush with Yan Yan being really subtle. Plot-wise it is interesting and hopefully, the revenge plot won’t be too over the top later. The drama is also not afraid to insert some modern jokes (AHEM CELEBRITY ARTIST) while feeling super natural in doing so.

The magic spells they introduce are fairly unique too (paper magic) which can be quite handy. The brief introduction of paper cranes and paper frogs are delightful. The costumes are delightful too. One of the difficulties of cdrama production is making costumes natural relative to the period and making it beautiful. I love Zi Chan wardrobe here because he looks great in it while not making him too prince-like. Likewise I like that Gongzi Qi wardrobe are slightly more fancier than a normal immortal /Taoist disciple (YEAH HIS WEIRDASS WAYS) but not that fancy.

I think one of the downsides for this drama is the set production. Some of the sets like the snow scene are totally beautiful, while at some parts its so obvious the wood is made of plastic, or the garden looks too tropical. That being said I understand cdrama fantasy budgets are tight + high likelihood of delayed broadcasting, so these downsides are relatively minor, plus the cinematography team is killing it, so I think in overall any fan of xianxia should watch it.

#the killing of three crows #三千鸦杀 #cdrama #recap #review #thoughts #the killing of three thousand crows

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illegiblewords · 5 years

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Oh god so sometimes I double check FFXIV cutscenes either for shits and giggles or because I want to see if I missed something.

All I want in life rn is a scene of Emet-Selch learning the precise circumstances of Lahabrea’s death, because every single time I have gone back to the final Heavensward quest (as in, the quest literally titled Heavensward) his plan gets more and more unfortunate. It makes me laugh and cringe and yell at screens. Out of every character in the game Emet-Selch 100% canon confirmed understands EXACTLY WHY that was such a horrendous idea and I just need to experience that moment in real time.

Because holy shit it just gets so much dumber with each watch. I’m actually mildly upset, but not in a “devs goofed” way but in a “GO THE FUCK TO BED LAHABREA JESUS CHRIST” way.

Because apparently it is also canon that the guy was basically loopy from sleep deprivation 24/7 by word of Gamescom, and Igeyorhm is just not very bright and a terrible enabler. And this is consistent with her little “hahahaha I kind of fucked up one of thirteen shards of existence we desperately need oops” escapade.

But okay I’m gonna try to recap this because I haven’t posted my rant about why Lahabrea messed up so badly and needed to go the fuck to sleep on tumblr. My affection for him as a character increased exponentially after realizing he is sort of a loser and all the other Ascians are catty-judging him for it. While I’ll acknowledge the devs and say he probably has solid ideas in him somewhere past the HAHAHAHA LORD ZODIARKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!111!! and sleep deprivation and $5 words, those are not good odds for success.

Basically.

There were like a billion points preceding the moment where Thordan up and ate him that Lahabrea should've gotten the hell out of dodge. The entire reason he didn't was because he had to do his flashy experiment with Igeyorhm on the Warrior of Light. The way she agreed gives me the impression that he'd probably been nagging her about it behind the scenes for a while. Frankly I wouldn't be surprised if he'd tried asking other Ascians too and she was just the one who actually entertained him. Everyone else was like “LAHABREA THIS IS A TERRIBLE IDEA GO THE FUCK TO BED” but he’s loopy so of course he ignores them. Guy’s face basically lights up when Igeyorhm’s all m'kay lets do it on going Ascian Prime. Doing a high power experiment involving your own aether and a colleague's aether while a known Ascian-killer is in the room, without necessarily knowing how it's gonna go and what the effects will be? That alone was not a good idea. But oooooh they'll be so powerful, surely then they'll be able to defeat the Warrior of Light once and for all. Right? Right? Lahabrea and Igeyorhm were so wiped after that stunt failed that neither one of them could stand, let alone make a dark tunnel to flee the scene. Igeyorhm dies literally the moment after she suggests retreat, when the WoL uses auracite. Lahabrea, who really really should have had a little voice at the back of his head by then going "maybe I should focus on getting out of here", instead gets cocky and comments that now there's no way for the WoL to murder him too. Still can't even stand upright. Just running his mouth. Thordan enters with another eye. Thordan repeatedly makes ominous comments about being 500% done with Ascian nonsense for about five minutes. Thordan takes on a millenia of prayer from the notoriously devout Halonic church plus Nidhogg eye #2. No little voice for Lahabrea. Kind of read like it didn't occur to him he was in serious trouble until the moment primal Thordan said he condemned him to death. And by then he's still staggering around like a baby deer from the Ascian Prime misadventure plus being trounced by Warrior of Light.

But then.

THEN.

It fucking hits me.

Lahabrea after getting thrown out of his Ascian flesh-mecha is all WTF HOW DID YOU DIVIDE US WITH THE POWER OF LIGHT????

And I stared for about thirty seconds before just going “oh my god.”

Because another tidbit Emet-Selch confirmed?

Hydaelyn was tailor-made to divide shit. That is her biggest power. That is literally her MO. It’s the reason why, with less overall aether at her disposal, she was able to defeat Zodiark anyway. She was strategically designed to exploit that weakness.

Warrior of Light, blessed by Hydaelyn herself... what the fuck do you think their power’s gonna include?

Motherfucking division.

And like. Any alert Ascian who wasn’t Igeyorhm would probably have a moment’s pause and be like “no Lahabrea it’s a bad idea and it won’t work take a nap”.

Then instead of pausing to consider why he’s getting this response over and over again, wondering if maybe he missed something obvious--impossible of course, he’s Amaurot’s greatest orator and top of phantomology. Couldn’t possibly have fucked up.

...he gets indignant, conscious that people make catty comments behind his back, and determined to prove them all wrong. With this doomed plan.

And Igeyorhm is just like YAY ONE OF THE UNSUNDERED IS GIVING ME A CHANCE TO PROVE I’M NOT A FUCK UP AGAIN RIGHT ON, and is oblivious enough that the issues in Lahabrea’s plan shoot right over her head.

I still hope that through some weird twist the guy isn't totally dead just because he needs to be held accountable for how stupid that whole escapade was for him. And.

AND.

To add insult to injury.

Result of Lahabrea's experiment wasn't even impressive either. Ascian Prime was not particularly powerful. If he really, really wanted to try fusion--WoL is not where you do the test run. Even if it's the first time one of his fellow Ascians agreed to indulge him. Igeyorhm has a history of questionable judgment and of all people Lahabrea should have known better. ಠ_ಠ

EDIT: I am leaving old analysis up for posterity but have since reblogged a new understanding under this post that is sad as fuck rather than funny. I don’t begrudge past!me or other peeps for laughing at the old interpretation, but it’s kind of an “oh. oh no shit I fucked up and laughed at a terrible thing in ignorance” situation. Still love Lahabrea to bits and I think Igeyorhm is rad as hell, have added respect and appreciation for both now.

#ascian #lahabrea #igeyorhm #emet-selch #final fantasy xiv

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darkfire1220 · 5 years

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Godzilla: King of the Monsters SPOILER Review!

WARNING! SPOILERS BELOW! IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN GODZILLA: KING OF THE MONSTERS YET, GO AWAY! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

I made a post just yesterday defending Godzilla: King of the Monsters from the harsh criticism the film has received since it’s release over the weekend. I stand by what I said: I think the critical reviews have really hurt the film’s reception in an extremely negative and undeserved way. Now, that’s not to say the film is a perfect one! It has its positives and negatives, and I’m going to go in-depth into them in this review. I’m also going to be making theater experience comparisons to other movies I’ve seen in the past to help you understand where this film falls under my spectrum. This is absolutely my sole opinion, but I just want to clear some of the air and really give everyone my thoughts on this film.

I’ve gotten to see the film twice now, the first on opening night, and the second about five hours ago. The first time I went in as a huge Kaiju nerd, excited and anticipating the film which I hoped would be the blockbuster of the summer. I’d even go so far as to say that I was more hyped for this than Avengers: Endgame. I watched Ghidorah: The Three-Headed Monster, Kong: Skull Island, and Godzilla 2014 prior to going to see this movie. I was prepared to witness glory incarnate.

And I did. Can confirm, my mind was blown. I walked out of that first showing with a stupidly huge grin, possibilities whirling in my mind, and a fierce excitement to see it again. We got a bunch of easter eggs in addition to seeing some of my favorite Kaiju on the American big screen for the first time. I got everything I wanted and I felt very positive about it all.

Godzilla and Ghidorah OWN this movie. Not only did I get way more Godzilla than in 2014, but I got to see Ghidorah shine. That dragon is such a savage, showing every bit of maliciousness he’s known for and even when Godzilla gets juiced up towards the end of the film, he takes every hit thrown at him and pays it back. This Ghidorah takes no bullshit from anybody. He deals it out, and he deals it out with extreme prejudice. Everything from his design, sound effects, the unique behavior and interaction between his three heads (I LOVED that, btw) is so goddamn good and I can’t express enough how much you should go see the movie if only to see the kaiju do their things.

Now Rodan, my boy Rodan! You were once one of the goofiest looking Kaiju I’d ever set eyes on, but my god you got a makeover in this movie. Legendary’s Rodan is a monster in the skies, and you can see that without any trouble. When the planes start to fire missiles at him, he shrugs it off and seems to be more annoyed than anything. Actually, he kind of just plays cat-and-mouse with the jets when he’s pursuing the Argo (The big jet, kind of like a stealth bomber. My dad would disown me for just calling it that because he works in aerospace XD) and only when they completely surround him does he eventually get fed up with the jets and executes a mean barrel roll to essentially bitch-slap all of them (yes, all of them- he kills the entire squad) out of the sky. That was an awesome shot.

Last but certainly not least, Mothra. This incarnation of Mothra is by far the most aggressive, but still retains a lot of the classic kaiju features. She’s beautiful to see and when they started playing her music theme I got so excited. This Mothra also has a few tricks up her sleeve! I was very, very surprised when she whipped out a stinger of all things! But she showed a lot of loyalty to Godzilla in protecting him from Ghidorah and eventually transferring her power to him after Ghidorah kills her (of course she dies, it’s Mothra :( BUT there’s another egg in the end-credits, so maybe we’ll get more Mothra in Godzilla vs Kong!). Another detail I didn’t actually notice the first time watching this was when Godzilla went Thermonuclear and blasted Ghidorah with atomic pulses, the pulses sounded like Mothra’s cries and gave off patterns similar to Mothra’s wings. I thought that was very cool!

Also, one thing I wasn’t expecting to enjoy were all the kaiju Legendary made up for the movie. As much as I would have loved to see more Toho kaiju, (I wanted Anguirus so bad lol) the designs for these kaiju, brief as they were, were awesome to see. We got a number of new minor kaiju with their own unique designs, ranging from the mammoth-ground sloth hybrid Behemoth, the mountain-backed Methuselah, and even a massive MUTO similar to the ones from the 2014 film, but with her own unique features. I’ve heard some people call this one MUTO Prime, but I think that might be a reference to a Godzilla comic that was released not too long ago. I think it was called Godzilla: Aftershock. Don’t take my word on that, I haven’t gotten to check it out yet. I could be totally wrong.

But anyways, I loved all of my kaiju, even the new ones! I’d love to see more of them, even if it’s just little bits and pieces!

Onto the human characters. Yes, your favorite part of this review. Yes, I am being absolutely sarcastic, but to be fair, I personally think the actors did a great job. Of course it’s a Godzilla movie and the plot line is a little wacky, but everyone from Millie Bobby Brown to Kyle Chandler (and especially Ken Watanabe) played their characters very well. The acting was spot-on. I couldn’t really bring myself to truly hate any of the characters. There were some questionable choices, yes, but the actors themselves played their characters very well, I think.

Now of course, I’ve had time to sober up a bit and the second showing let me think a bit more about the movie and its problems. I’ve boiled it down to three main issues: First, the humans take up too much time. Two, I wanted more kaiju (specifically Mothra). And three, the fights kept getting cut in the middle of the action.

King of the Monsters struggles with the same issue that Godzilla 2014 had in that it actually doesn’t have enough monsters. I’m not talking about monster battles- it has that in spades, (though I found myself wanting even more of that, as well) but I found it lacking when it came to some of the kaiju themselves. The first half of the movie rolls out exactly like I wanted. It starts with a bang and just immediately starts to move. It’s fast, catastrophic, and visually stunning.

That visual awe, by the way, is something that is maintained throughout the entirety of the film. If you want to see some of the most amazing shots you’ve ever seen in a movie, then this is the one.

The problem with King of the Monsters starts mostly in the second half of the film, just after King Ghidorah rises from the ocean victorious in his latest battle against Godzilla. At this point, the film slows down and focuses far, far too much on the people. We know that the Titans are rampaging around the world, but we don’t see much of them. Even Ghidorah and Rodan (the latter of whom submits to Ghidorah’s authority after getting his ass beat) aren’t given much screen time to show what they get up to, which apparently flying over to Washington D.C and turning it into Ghidorah’s personal crib.

I would have LOVED to see Ghidorah and Rodan fly up to the capital and basically lay waste to the place, if only to add to their danger factors. They both present an immense threat, but it feels a bit subverted given how little screen time they have together while Rodan is under Ghidorah’s authority.

But we slowed down and focused on the people, who were sent on a mission to heal Godzilla after the Oxygen Destroyer missile almost killed him. Granted, that is important, but it felt too stretched out for me to really enjoy it. I would have liked to see Mothra partaking more in helping Godzilla, especially since she gets so little screen time in the movie.

That’s one of my biggest nitpicks as I stated before- I didn’t get nearly enough Mothra. We actually got more Rodan than we did Mothra. Don’t get me wrong, Rodan is one of my favorite Kaiju and this movie scales his baddassery level up so much, but I NEEDED more Mothra to really make the movie work better. Her design is gorgeous and her brief participation in the final battle is fine, but I wanted MORE of her. More of Mothra interacting with the people, with Godzilla, and with Madison (Millie Bobbie Brown).

Just more of Mothra. For a kaiju that plays such a key role in rebelling against Ghidorah’s Alpha status and protecting Godzilla, she doesn’t get remotely enough screen time.

But let’s get back on track. The movie slowed down after the battle in Mexico concluded and Ghidorah became the Alpha kaiju. And in this, I felt in my second viewing, is really where the crux of the problem lies. Some of the human actions were very necessary and provided the meat of the plot, but a lot of the fat could have been cut out and replaced with kaiju instead.

The scene with Serizawa (Ken Watanabe) and Godzilla was masterfully done, though. For those of you who aren’t diehard kaiju fans, Serizawa was the scientist way back in the original 50′s Godzilla films that killed Godzilla with the oxygen destroyer. In this movie, Ken Watanabe’s character, who is also named Serizawa, sacrifices himself to save Godzilla by detonating a nuclear bomb beside the Titan, which helps him recover his radioactive life force.

“Goodbye, old friend.”

There’s something tragically sad about that quote and it was the most powerful moment in the film for me. Not just because it pays homage to the original Serizawa character, but because that really takes you back to the original Godzilla roots, when the kaiju was used as a metaphor for nuclear devastation. Serizawa is of Japanese origin and his father was killed by the bomb in Hiroshima (in the storyline). He sacrifices himself to save Godzilla and is killed by the nuclear bomb they use to jump-start the Titan. That echoes hard and reminded me where Godzilla came from in the first place.

Godzilla gets juiced by the nuclear bomb and goes on the hunt to track down and slaughter Ghidorah once and for all. Cue one of the most epic monster fights you’ll ever see on the big screen...or it would have been, if they didn’t cut away every few seconds to focus on the people. It’s this repetitive sequence in the film that hurts its score the most for me. I don’t care about the people scrambling on the ground, or at least I don’t care enough to want to focus on them when Godzilla, Ghidorah, Rodan, and Mothra are scrapping in the background.

Like hello??? Can I look at THAT please??? More, please!!!

What action sequences we do get are great, but god they would have been so much more satisfying and powerful if we just got to see the kaiju duking it out while the humans scrambled in the background, and not the other way around.

Walking out of the theater this time, I felt like I stated before- I didn’t get enough kaiju, or at least the kaiju I did get kept getting cut off by human nonsense. I still enjoyed it, absolutely, because for me, the pros of the film outweigh the cons. I got to see my favorite kaiju duke it out amidst tolerable human actors with CGI that Toho couldn’t have even dreamed of seeing back in the day. I got my Godzilla movie, and while it wasn’t perfect, I liked what I liked more than I hated what I didn’t.

To put this in comparison, I think this film falls into a healthy theater experience, but not an outstanding one. For example, I am a Jurassic Park nut, and when Jurassic World came out, I saw that movie more times than I can even count. Every opportunity I could have to go see it, I saw it. I think I saw that movie in the theater something like eight times? Not even a joke, I saw it that much. I loved it so much. That was probably my favorite theater experience ever. King of the Monsters makes me want to go see it again and again, (even now, after seeing it twice!) but maybe I’ll refrain from seeing it quite that much lol.

But it doesn’t deserve to be thrashed with criticism the way it is. Another example, my most negative theater experience, is when I went to go see The Last Jedi. Oh my god. Now THAT movie made me wish the new trilogy had never happened, and I love Star Wars. Even in my first viewing of The Last Jedi, I walked out of that theater with two of my friends (both of them hardcore Star Wars fans) and we all said out loud, “What the fuck was that garbage?”

Oh my god we hated that film, but we went to go see it twice regardless because that’s what we do to really determine how much we like or hate a film. The first time is for initial reactions as fans, the second time we go see a film to be more perceptive about it. And The Last Jedi sucked even more the second time, which is why I will never touch that movie ever again. I could go in-depth about it, but that’s not what this review is about. This was simply an example to compare King of the Monsters to.

If I had had the kind of reaction to the film that I did with The Last Jedi, I would absolutely understand the box office numbers it is currently being pounded with, but I didn’t have that reaction. I loved the movie both times I went to go see it and for the life of my I can’t fathom why it’s receiving so much heat. This film is pieced together BETTER than that horrifying Star Wars movie, for god’s sake, but it’s doing so much worse. Let that sink in for a second. A Godzilla movie’s plot is pieced better than a Star Wars movie. Will wonders never cease?

All in all, I think King of the Monsters is a sold 7.5/10. It’s not perfect and it has its problems, but I think it’s a solid entry into the kaiju franchise, and at this point I’m just praying that the negativity it’s receiving doesn’t hurt the Legendary Monsterverse later on down the line. I want to see more Godzilla movies after Kong vs Godzilla, thank you very much!

Whew, that was a lot to write. Anyways, my final advice to anyone thinking about going to see it is to just go take a crack at it in the theaters. I can understand why people didn’t like some parts of the film, but I found the positives outweighed the negatives. Long live the King!

#godzilla #godzilla: king of the monsters #legendary godzilla #mothra #rodan #king ghidorah #ghidorah #monsterverse #king of the monsters #kaiju #kaiju movie #review #movie review #spoilers #spoiler review

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vore-scientist · 5 years

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In Which Sophia Makes Some New Friends

A tale of the Mystic Woods

(read the other stories/comics here, and all posts related to Mystic Woods can be found here)

THIS IS A DIRECT SEQUEL TO THIS STORY

Content warnings: No actual vore in this story, sorry! But discussion of both safe and fatal (I tried to make it humorous/light hearted, it makes sense). Also GT cuddles at the end ;)

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Sophia paced around Yonah’s desk. After the unfortunate encounter with the meddlesome prince, Yonah had wandered off to get a healing potion. That was fine, while she waited she admired all the little things on the desk, and the books in languages that she had only begun to learn to read, but that someday she would be fluent in.

“Yonah?” came a voice. “Hey Yonah, you there?”

It was a man’s voice, and it was near. Sophia froze and looked around. The mirror, the small mirror on Yonah’s desk! She ran to it, and saw in it the face of what could only be another wizard.

The man had a red and black mustache, kind green eyes, a big floppy wizard’s hat, and beautiful yellow and blue wizard’s robes, which were accented with silver and black. His hands were behind his back and he was looking around expectantly, until he saw Sophia, and he startled, but recovered fast.

“Sayyyyyyy! You’re not Yonah!” said the man, smiling with suspicion, “Who are you?”

“I’m, I’m Princess Sophia of the Kingdom of Orr!” she declared without thinking. Then a terrible thought struck her, what if this man in the mirror was an evil wizard. Those existed! A continent to the west had an entire Society of Wizards who were always up to some evil.

“A princess...” then the man grinned like an idiot, “WAIT A PRINCESS? No shit!”

His face turned away and he shouted at someone out of view, “SHOSH! HEY SHOSH! YONAH WENT AND KIDNAPPED A PRINCESS!”

“HE DID WHAT! YOU BETTER NOT BE FUCKING WITH ME MICA!”

“IM SERIOUS COME TO THE MIRROR!”

A moment later a woman, also wearing a wizard’s hat appeared next to Mica and gasped. “oh dear gods that’s a princess alright!” Except for her ruby red lipstick, she had no makeup on, but she had numerous facial piercings. She had wild brown hair and large oval spectacles that made her green-brown eyes appear buggy.

Sophia fidgeted with her gown, she wasn’t some spectacle to be gawked at by whoever these people were. She wished she wasn’t in a blood spattered nightgown. She wished that Yonah was here.

“And who,” said Sophia, as sweet as she could, “are you?”

“Oh how terribly rude of us!” said Mica, still smiling, “I’m Mica, Mica Cohen! And this is Shoshana Jaffe, we’re friends of Yonah and we were hoping to talk to him,”

Sophia was stunned “Yonah has friends!?”

Mica and Shoshana burst out laughing.

“Yes dear girl, he has friends,” said Shoshana, “you can’t stay sane in a prison without them.”

“I’ve been here for two months! How have I not heard of you?” Sophia was planning to chew Yonah out about this when he felt better. What else was he hiding. Probably a lot, wizards liked their secrets... But why would he hide friends from her! How many more friends did he have?

“You mean you’re serious. Yonah hasn’t mentioned us?” Shoshana looked genuinely hurt.

“No! until now I thought he was a sad lonely man!”

The wizards laughed again.

“Well he’s not sad” said Shoshana, “angry more like, but not anymore than your average firewitch.”

“Nor is he really a man, kinda, half a man,” said Mica, thoughtfully.

“Lonely, well now, we wish we could visit more often, he is kinda stuck in one place.”

/Yeah, you can thank my dad for that/ thought Sophia. But thought it was better not to mention Yonah’s semi-house arrest sentence was handed down by her father.

“But now you’re there! This is so wonderful!” said Shoshana with glee, before turning serious, “unless, you’re lying and you’re a giant slayer, disguised as a princess.”

“What?”

“Whose blood are you currently wearing?” she narrowed her eyes.

What an odd way to phrase that, “it’s, well it’s Yonah’s but”

Shoshana raised an eyebrow, something about her presence, even through a mirror grew dark and threatening. Mica remained bright, if scared.

“Um, well you see, there was an incident this morning, with a prince, and…”

She told them what happened. They were a good audience, gasping and cheering at all the right places, and they didn’t interrupt her. Until she got to the part where Yonah ate the prince. They both looked a little green.

“He, ate the prince?” Mica’s voice shook. He and Shoshana exchanged worried looks.

Uh oh. Guess Yonah’s friends didn’t know. Too late now.

“Y-yes, but he spit him out! He ran off after that.” They relaxed, a bit, but continued to look at her suspiciously.

“And then you called” Sophia ended lamely, “that’s it!”

“And the blood?” Shoshana hadn’t noticed that Sophia failed to explain it.

In reality Sophia just forgot.

“Yonah’s… insides got roughed up by the prince’s armor and I ended up in the line of fire when he coughed”

She looked up from her gown to see the two wizard staring past her. Shoshana grinned wickedly.

“Ah, Yonah, Sophia here has been telling us all about your adventure from not moments ago!”

/“SHE WHAT!”/ cried Yonah. Except, as the words made it to his lips a stabbing pain in his throat stopped him, closing his airways as he coughed himself catatonic. So instead he just sat down and stared at the mirror through a slightly teary haze.

“Yonah, this young woman says that you’re a man-eating giant now! Can you lend credence to this? Has our Yonah truly become the monster that the professors said he would? Yonah, eater of men, kidnapper of princesses!” the sarcasm heavy in Shoshana’s voice.

No. no no no no no. no NO. This was not happening. This day was so crappy to begin with.

“He’s not denying it, so it must be true!” Mica said, matter a factly.

This wasn’t at all how he expected this to go down. He had kept his instances of “man-eating” hidden from his friends, sure that they would never speak to him again if they found out that he’d ever eaten a human.

But… they weren’t mad.

Didn’t matter. Getting teased about it was almost worse. He rubbed the moisture from his eyes.

“It’s not like you go around hunting humans” said Mica before getting serious “and it’s not like you were keeping this hidden while in school. You weren’t, right? You didn’t eat anyone at school? Was tasting us not enough?”

For the first time, Mica and Shoshana looked genuinely worried. Maybe they HAD been wrong about Yonah.

“No, No. I-I didnt eat anyone.” said Yonah, his voice high and quiet, he looked scared, “typically, giants only eat those who break into their houses, to steal or to kill” he recited. They’d heard the line before.

And regardless, the school was never his home, Of course he wasn’t ever interested in eating his fellow students. Tasting them was another matter, plenty of them smelled incredible. His friends did and still do occasionally allow him a taste, just to tease him.

Up until Sophia he wouldn’t have even dared to eat them! It was too dangerous. A thief he could risk swallowing and spitting back up before they died. Standard procedure to shock and punish them. And a Slayer’s life was forfeit. When they failed and escaped they usually returned and one way or another someone would end up dead.

“What about professors? I feel like some of them deserve to be eaten” Mica continued, all previous concern now gone, he was back to antagonizing.

“N-no, I just said that-“ but apparently Mica wasn’t listening and Yonah’s interjections fell upon uncaring ears.

“Like Professor Thuorbir! What a prick.” said Mica.

“I think he was also a giant slayer!” said Shoshana, her voice containing energy that Mica’s didn’t even come close to, “you should totally eat him, he’s still an asshole. Fucker rejected my research proposal for a third time!”

Gods this was not happening. Yonah put his now burning face into his hands.

“I’m not gonna eat Mr.Thuorbir,” Yonah managed to say through is stupor. Though he silently agreed that the man certainly deserved it, regardless of giant slaying. His head was buzzing.

Mica looked at Shoshana incredulously

“Shosh, that was because your proposal was to research a spell that would have turned the entire Mystic Woods PINK, down to the littlest ant! None of the professors would have approved that” he said before turning to Sophia. “The one before that, she wanted to propose researching a spell that would give the caster dominion over all bees. All of them. Knowing full well that attempting godhood is ILLEGAL.”

Sophia giggled and tried to imagine her father’s kingdom becoming a uniform shade of pink. Oh dear. Maybe she should tell her father, in case Shoshana actually attempted it.

“Well, just because they don’t want an army of bees” said Shoshana, nose in the air, arms crossed. “And it wasn’t a proposal to actually do it, just to design a spell that could.”

“I hate you both, you know that,” said Yonah.

“We know you mean love!” said Shoshana.

“Anyways, it can’t have really happened,” said Shoshana. “Not the way you said it did at the very least.”

“What do you mean?” Asked Yonah.

Mica looked at her in shock, he had clearly believed the story. This wouldn’t be the first time Shoshana had gone along with a ridiculous farce just for the drama of it, but as far as he knew, Yonah hadn’t spoken to Shoshana that recently, not without him present. And Yonah’s pain was real, his embarrassment was real.

Shoshana sighed and rubbed at her glasses.

“You don’t believe-“ Sophia started to say

“Oh I believe he’s eaten people. Comes with the territory at this point. But you’re” she eyed Yonah, “You’re kind of, too small to swallow a person whole, right? You’d have to, oh I don’t know, rip into them with your teeth like they were a prime rib.”

/Ugh, what a great image, thanks Shosh/ thought Yonah.

“It’s not really worth trying to claim the prince survived for our benefit. If eating people was a dealbreaker we wouldn’t be friends with dragons or ogres or that Sphinx that guards the gates to the tunnels of-“

“Yonah did swallow the prince whole!” Sophia wasn’t about to let the wizards think she had lied, “And yes, he’s killed a few assholes that way but he let the prince live! And thieves too! He eats them all the time but always lets them go!” She was almost shouting now, “And! And Yonah swallows me all the time! And if you haven’t noticed, I’m in one piece.”

All eyes were on her and everyone was silent, no one moved or blinked, but Yonah’s face became scarlet. Sophia played with her dress in her hands, and looked up at Yonah.

“Um, was I not supposed to tell them that?” she squeaked out.

“Yonah HaEsh, how could you!?” Shoshana yelled, no longer playful, “eat a princess!? You could kill her! She’s not a knight or a giant slayer! What on earth were you thinking? So we need to rescue her from you?”

Yonah’s embarrassment had turned to anger as his hair started to smoke and the roots glowed orange. He was breathing sharp breaths, seething with anger, until one got caught sending him into a into another coughing fit and onto the floor. Sophia took the opportunity to rectify her mistake.

But there was no need. Shoshana has gone white.

“Oh dear, I think I overdid it!”

“You think? Now Yonah thinks we hate him! Next time don’t seem so serious,” Mica chided her. Shoshana muttered something about wasting her skills and addressed Sophia again.

“But seriously, how!” she said, “How does he physically manage to swallow a person whole? And you said he eats you all the time! How the fuck has he managed to avoid fucking up and killing you or the thieves!” color had returned to her face. No longer bothered by Yonah’s plight, even though she had caused it. Mica shot her a death glare.

“Oh like you weren’t thinking the same thing!”

Mica sighed. “I was but I have the manners not to voice it. We could have called back tomorrow. But it’s too late now.”

They both looked at Sophia expectantly.

“Oh um, well, the thieves he just spits up real quick but myself... Yonah, enchanted me, so that he can’t hurt me” Sophia explained everything as Yonah wheezed in the background, still on the floor, but no longer in danger of coughing up a lung.

Shoshana’s eyes sparkled with greed. Mica was deep in thought.

“Wait are you sure this was an enchantment, because it sounds like curse.” Mica finally said.

“Well,” said Sophia, “the difference is a matter of perspective isn’t it.”

Which was true. One could see gems falling from ones mouth when one talked as a blessing, until everyone in the kingdom wanted you as their piggy bank and your voice was hoarse from being made to talk non stop and the economy is ruined by your gem contributions. Then it’s a curse. Becoming a glass statue would be a curse, but that’s not how it worked.

“That must have been an expensive procedure,” said Mica.

“It was, but he got the money from my dad,” Sophia made the last few words harsh and final. She was still bitter that her dad had instructed and funded Yonah to traumatize her into running back home. Jokes on him, it hadn’t worked and Yonah was her friend now! Showed him!

“He managed to only cast half a curse! He could publish with a trick like that” she said thoughtfully, but with a touch of envy.

“There would be a problem with rational,” Mica pointed out, “he would have to invent a fake reason! He can’t say he did it so he could eat one specific person and not worry about them dying!”

Shoshana nodded and laughed.

“To answer your other question, I don't know how he does it, because you’re right, by all means he shouldn’t. But even he doesn’t know.” Sophia said, the wizards were disappointed. Sophia tried to brighten their mood by suggesting they investigate it. They considered this with great pleasure.

“I’m just unable to picture it,” She was talking to Sophia again. “I-“ she shuddered with wicked glee as she had a new thought. “ Yes, I’d like to see it for myself. I don’t suppose, since it was your idea to research this, that you would be willing to give us a demonstration?”

That surprised both Sophia and Mica, but Mica’s grin said that he liked that idea.

Now it was Sophia’s turn to go red. Sophia rubbed her back of her head. Let someone watch? Having just seen Yonah eat the prince, she wasn’t sure if she wanted Yonah’s friends to see it. Even if they had joked about him giving into his more monstrous heritage. Sophia had seen it. That side of him did exist. But it had been her idea. She regretted planting the idea in their stupid wizard brains.

“I’ll, consider it, but Yonah’s in no condition right now.”

“Oh of course not dear! Just call us or something, there’s not rush,” Shoshana winked, “especially if it’s a regular occurrence, plenty of opportunities to observe.”

Yes, Sophia was realizing that about the thieves as well. She wondered how regular they were too, and if she could get involved in thief catching.

Shaking badly, Yonah got up from the floor, pulling himself up to his stool. His face was very red, and his eyes glistened, tears steaming up his face.

Sophia turned to him “They’re over it, I explained it, you can stop being such a big baby and extinguish yourself”

Yonah glared at her but his head stopped smoldering and his eyes were back to brown.

“I think,” he wheezed, “I think I need to lie down, let the healing drought actually take effect.”

“Yonah darling you do look awful, we’ll get out of your hair, but don’t think we are done talking about this! Next time I expect a demonstration!” said Shoshana “goodbye Princess Sophia it was an absolute pleasure meeting your highness!” and before Mica could say a word she waved a hand in front of the mirror, turning it back to a normally mirror.

“Thank you Mirror” Sophia said, placing a hand on the golden edge. It made a small hum of acknowledgement.

“Come on let’s get you to bed,” Sophia looked up at the disheveled and gaunt wizard who picked her up and held her close to his chest as he walked back to his room. The sun had been up for an only hour yet the day felt like it was already over. He needed a nap.

He released Sophia onto the night stand, took off his hat, did not take off his slightly blood stained night robe, and collapsed face forward on the bed, breathing heavily.

Sophia sighed and climbed down the nightstand and using the still loose bed sheets, climbed onto the bed and onto Yonah. He didn’t protest, or make any sign that he knew she was there, but he had to know.

“Hey, you did good today, and your friends still love you, and I’m still your friend. I don’t think you made friends with that prince but he seemed like a dick so who cares.”

A painful chuckle shook from beneath her as Yonah rolled onto his back, Sophia scrambling to keep up with the rotation. Sitting on his chest as he stared up at the ceiling with his eyes closed. he brought his hand up to pet Sophia gently. His hand was warm and rough, and Sophia leaned into it, tickling his palm.

She fell asleep like that, Yonah’s warm hand of a weighted blanket.

Yonah had one last panicked thought before sleep took him.

/Had Shosh said DEMONSTRATION?/

[Thanks for reading! please reblog!]

#soft vore #safe vore

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hilarymp · 5 years

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PET SEMATARY (2019) REVIEW

SPOILER WARNING! This review contains spoilers for Pet Sematary (2019), Pet Sematary (1989) and the novel.

I’ll admit straight out of the gate that I went into Pet Sematary (2019) with a negative attitude. For whatever reason (one that I am still struggling to comprehend) the studio decided not only to make a rather large divergence from the source material’s plot, but to also spoil this “twist” in the trailer and promotional material. That alone was enough to convince me that this remake/reboot/reimagining/whatever the fuck you want to call it probably wasn’t going to win me over. So let’s discuss that first and foremost.

I am not at all opposed to film adaptations making changes. Case in point, 2017’s new IT. IT and it’s miniseries predecessor are among some of my favorite horror films of all time, despite the fact that they were not 100% faithful to the novel, especially the more recent installment. For me changes are totally fine as long as they a.) maintain the spirit, themes, and tone of the original story and b.) make the film more frightening.

With those rules in mind the change prominently displayed in the trailer for 2019’s Pet Sematary, the fact the Creed’s eldest child Ellie is the one who is killed and brought back from the dead instead of toddler Gage, already failed at rule b. Don’t get me wrong, any reanimated evil corpse is going to be scary, but why on earth would you deny us an evil murderous baby just to give us yet another creepy little girl. The ‘creepy little girl’ trope in horror is so tired and overused it makes my head hurt. The Ring, Orphan, The Exorcist, Silent Hill, The Shining, Alice Sweet Alice, The Bad Seed, Let the Right One In, Hereditary, Sinister, I could go on and on and on. The use of the trope isn’t inherently terrible, but why would you go out of your way to use it when something less used and much scarier (a straight up homicidal TODDLER) is an option? The simplest and most likely reason, in my opinion, was for convenience. Is directing a 2 year old more difficult to direct than an 11 year old? Yes, of course, obviously. But it’s definitely possible, as Mary Lambert proved while directing Miko Hughes as Gage in 1989. (Honestly, to this day I can not believe the performance she got out of that little boy.) So to me the change is not only a disservice to the film, but also an indication that the filmmakers were unabashedly lazy.

So now that you know why I had set myself up for disappointment to begin with, let’s break down what the film succeeded at and how it failed.

Whatever problems I have with the film, at least I can say that I loved the cast. John Lithgow was extremely endearing and likable. His performance as Jud was a refreshingly grounded and heartfelt departure from Fred Gwynne’s high camp in ‘89. Jason Clarke was as engrossing as ever. I always enjoy Clarke’s performances, and he often brings extra depth to characters that would have otherwise fallen flat (Dr. Price in ‘Winchester’ being a prime example). And Jete Laurance was nothing short of incredible. You would never expect that this little girl could transform into something to sinister so effortlessly. Her performance in the first half of the film is filled with such sweet sincerity, that her turn into undead Ellie is all the more frightening. Not as frightening as being terrorized by a little ankle biting toddler, mind you, but enjoyable nonetheless. ESPECIALLY compared to Ellie in the 89 film. Do you remember her? My God, she was so annoying.

Speaking of annoying, Amy Seimetz as Rachel was the only weak link in the cast. Instead of being deeply troubled and complex as Stephen King wrote her, Seimetz’s Rachel is so one dimensional that by the third or fourth time we see her crying, I wasn’t just unmoved, I was borderline irritated. ‘The weepy mother’ role in horror films are never especially fulfilling, but in this instance Rachel was meant to be much more than that. And the cheapening of the Zelda subplot doesn’t help matters either.

To me Zelda, Rachel’s late sister who suffered from spinal meningitis, was hands down the scariest part of the book and original film, so I was extra disappointed here. I’m fully aware that the character of Zelda is extremely problematic and portraying her as a monster is ableist as fuck. (Let’s be real, 99% of all Stephen King’s works are problematic but if we pull on that thread we’ll be here all day.) But the in the new film she is completely under utilized. Her appearances have been shrunk down to generic Conjuring-like jumpscares. Like most horror movies these days, the film relies on quick cuts, loud bangs, and obnoxious music cues to startle us instead of showing us anything particularly alarming. There is one prolonged sequence of incredible suspense, as Louis slowly walks through his basement in search of his daughters reanimated corpse, that filled me with so much dread that I was finally genuinely scared. Alas, *sad trombone*, it was undercut with a cheap jumpscare just like all the rest.

On top of uninspired jumpscares, the filmmaking as a whole was ‘meh’ at best, especially the production design. The houses nearly hidden among the picturesque dense woods are definitely more visually interesting than the ones presented to us in ‘89. It also makes the danger of the nearby highway much more palpable, with the road being both closer to the house and more believably prone to accidents, with the thick foliage hindering the drivers’ ability to see. And the ‘pet sematary’ itself is serviceable enough, not much different from what we’ve seen before. But once we are taken beyond the dead fall to the cursed burial ground, the scope of the film shrinks drastically, making everything feel cramped and cheap like a paper mache Haunted house, even with cheap smoke machine effects to match.

There are a lot of loose ends in the film as well, though it’s hard to tell if they were caused by the script or the editing. For instance, when Jud is explaining the burial ground to Louis, he mentions the wendigo that is suspected to be the source of the land’s power. But… that’s all he says about it. He doesn’t explain what a Wendigo is, what it does, or why it does it. If you’ve never read the book, or have never heard of a wendigo before, the word means nothing. Why bring up the Wendigo at all if you’re not even going to tie it into the lore properly. They could just have easily just said ‘cursed Indian burial ground’ (it in and of itself a tired trope, but still) and we would have just went with it. Another example is when undead Ellie is terrorizing Jud, she turns herself into Jud’s dead wife, and mentions that says something along the lines of “Your wife is “n hell for what you did to her before she died”. What? What the hell did he do? Why the fuck would you even put that out there with zero follow up?!

Oh and let’s talk about Pascow. His role in the film is minimized so much, they might as well have left him out entirely. If I’m remembering correctly, late in the novel Pascow appears to Rachel urging her to come home. In the first film he appears to Rachel instead, who tells Rachel they need to come home. But in this film he appears to Gage. A toddler. Who can barely speak. Now as disturbing of a notion it is to have a very small child being haunted by such a gruesome image (and you all know how much I love disturbing shit), it’s also kind of pointless and dumb. If Pascow wanted to get Rachel to come home, why would he appear to Gage who, again, can’t talk, instead of just appearing to Rachel? One could argue that Gage’s crying and saying the name Pascow freaks Rachel out so much that it makes her want to go back, but you could just as easily say she left to get away from her memories of Zelda in her parents house, or the fact that Louis wouldn’t answer his goddamn phone

We’re also missing out on some crucial motivations to explain Louis’ terrible decision making. No scene of Louis and the grandfather fighting at the funeral, no Louis being blamed for his child’s death, no knocking over of the casket. I might be biased since, for me, that sequence is one of the most upsetting moments of the 89 film. But on top of a missed opportunity to shock, it also takes away the debilitating guilt that motivates Louis to resurrect his child, despite knowing it won’t go well. The guilt is still vaguely implicit, but sometimes horror films need to explicitly illustrate cause and effect, if for no other reason than to keep the audience from screaming “Why the fuck would you do that!?” at the screen for 2 hours.

Speaking of motivations, what are Ellie’s? What even is Ellie for that matter? The film can’t seem to make up its mind. Undead Ellie has Ellie’s memories, remembers how she died, and holds grudges against her parents for both her death and her resurrection. So there must be some part of the real Ellie in there, right? But when Rachel says “You’re not my daughter” undead Ellie agrees with her! So if it’s not really Ellie why does she keep trying to guilt and punish her parents? If she’s just an evil demon or spirit possessing Ellie’s corpse, you’d think it’d be glad that Louis was stupid enough to bury her up there. Free meat suit, hurray! The spirit clearly wants more bodies buried up there, seeing as it takes out the entire family just to bring them back like she was. Surely she just wanted to kill them all for funsies, right? Who the fuck knows. The screenwriter sure doesn’t appear to.

Another super obnoxious thing about this film is it’s cheap fake-outs. It’s one thing to change iconic moments from the first adaptation, but constantly calling attention to it is another. Like the ominous close ups of Jud’s heel and him kicking the bed before Ellie gets him on the stairs. Yeah we get it. ‘The old movie had Gage under the bed, but watch out, we’re mixing stuff up in this one!’ Yup. Got it. Thanks for the reminder. Or the whole ‘Gage almost being hit by the truck’ fake out before Ellie is actually hit. This one is especially stupid since you already fucking showed us in the trailer that Gage isn’t going to die. Why even try to fake us out like that when we already know you’ve changed that too? You have successfully irritated and underwhelmed me, movie, no reason to draw more attention to it.

Here’s a quick list of some other petty little things that bugged me. These aren’t even necessarily the movie’s fault, some just come from the book itself.

If Rachel is so traumatized and adverse to talking about death, why the fuck did she marry an ER doctor?

You expect me to believe that Louis, pragmatic Louis who doesn’t even believe in an afterlife, would just follow Jud over the deadfall, through the woods, across a swamp and up a bunch of mysterious stone stairs, with zero explanation? No questions asked? I’d be asking “What the fuck are we doing?” about every couple of yards.

Why in god’s name would Rachel’s parents not only still live in the house where their daughter suffered and died, but also KEEP THE DUMB WAITER SHE DIED IN?

Why don’t movies ever address the fact that when you’re buried your eyes and lips are sewn or glued shut beforehand? And the scene where Louis is bathing Ellie and he sees the staples in her head and is all freaked out - wouldn’t she have huge fucking staples all across her chest and down her abdomen from the funeral home too??

Despite my complaints, Pet Sematary isn’t completely devoid of entertainment value, not by a long shot. It’s not bad, it just could have been so so much better. Pet Sematary is riddled with missed opportunities, and if you‘re an overly analytical jaded horror fan with a devotion to Stephen King like I am, they are much more obvious. I’m not mad, Pet Sematary, I’m just disappointed. To quote Tyra Banks, we were rooting for you, we were all rooting for you! You had so much potential, you just dropped the ball. Just like losing a loved one, there’s a mourning period that must be observed. Time to cope with the loss of what could have been. But rest assured, by the time you come out on blu-ray, I’ll be ready to try again.

#Pet Sematary #pet semetary 2019 #pet semetary spoilers #movie review #stephen king #horror #horror films

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evangelene · 6 years

Text

The Boy Who Lied Wolf

Summary: Hoseok was good at a lot of things, one of them was lying. You, however, were a terrible lie detector.

Based off the request here: “hey there :) I would love to see some not so sappy jhope angstfluff, where the girl is an artist and unsatisfied with her life and art and always sad when she sees her friends (artists too) who always do 'better' than her “

I’d tag you girl, but I know you ain’t comfortable with having your username out and about so :P

"Minji not with you?"

You turned over your shoulder to shoot a pointed glare at your childhood best friend. Despite his kindness in feeding a starving artist with a job, his lack of tact (and utter lack of assistance when it came to you struggling with your painting cart in the doorway) made him a target for your annoyance. You flipped your hair out of your face, hip-checking your cart over the damn metal ridge on the floor only to nearly face-plant when the thing finally rolled forward.

You contemplated letting the cart crash and spill paint all over Namjoon's coffee shop as bitter retribution--but paint was expensive and momentary revenge wasn't worth the cash you already didn’t have.

"Does it really surprise you? Do you see any good looking guys here for her to make eyes at?” You scoffed. “Besides, would she really have been of any use?"

"Remind me why you’re still friends with her?" Namjoon snorted, bending down to clean out the ice tank and further let you deal with all of your shit on your own.

"Because she's an amazing artist; her work is literally just a small mixture of masterpieces. One day, I will prove that brains and practice make better art than blind talent wasted on someone who couldn't give a fuck." You huffed, lifting your chin to the wall in an unspoken question that Namjoon only answered with a nod. "That and," You pulled tables away from said wall—of which you were hired to design a mural for-- "you told me I needed to try making some friends that weren't you and my half-dead begonia. She fits the bill just fine; she enjoys hanging out with me and having me around."

"Then why isn't she here?" Namjoon raised an eyebrow at you.

"Because. My existence isn't one of pure friendship. I am simply by her side to make her look prettier." You mimicked your friend by dramatically flipping your hair over your shoulder and suggestively wiggling your brows at your best friend. "I mean look at me. What guy wouldn't look at me and go ew?"

"Every guy ever? Minji's just a bitch."

"Hey now," you chuckled, "that's an affectionate term now, didn't you hear?" Stepping back from the blank canvas before you, you frowned at the sheer amount of wall space that you were to cover. "You didn't mention that it was that big." You narrowed your eyes on him, trying to catch your breath; damn, you really needed to work out more. "I'll have to rethink my design a bit. But for now, there's more shit in the car I'm leaving to you—since you were no help at all like you promised you’d be. If you break any of it, you're dead."

"You know I will. God of destruction, remember?"

"I will add it to my fees, so make your body work like a normal human’s and we will be fine." You turned to the wall, staring at the hefty weight of a blank canvas. If there was one thing about Namjoon, it was that he was terrible at taking orders. Really good at listening, but just not following through—it was an infuriating combination. As such, he never left your side; instead, he wrapped one arm over your shoulders.

“Don’t overthink things; whatever you do will be beautiful. I wouldn’t have offered you this if you did shit work.” Another infuriating trait of his was knowing what you needed before you even realized there was something wrong.

“Lying will get you nowhere. I know you’re just here to feed your starving artist friend for a few months.”

Namjoon groaned to the ceiling. “And self-hate will only take you backwards, you brat. Realize your worth already.” He squeezed you once more before walking out towards your car, leaving you to stew alone.

Rather than wallowing in your bout of self-pity, you sat yourself down and stared at the texture of the brick, hiking yourself up onto a table to better get a feel for the space your mural would occupy. For whatever reason, your mind was instantly thrown back to when the both of you were in different universities and your idiot best friend invited you to the chaos that was his friend group. For some, stupid reason, someone as destructive as Kim Namjoon decided to join a singing and dancing club. They were great though; they utilized his rapping skills effectively and made him seem cooler than he really was. That didn’t mean the whole dancing thing worked in his favor—the guy was a human wrecking ball after all.

“Jungkook put a shirt on! She’s going to be here any second!” Namjoon was shouting, trying to take control of a situation that looked like it was about ten seconds from burning to the ground completely. Sweaty friends leaned half clothed against any surface imaginable—laughing at each other and reveling in your childhood friend’s pain. “Guys! Please!”

You raised an eyebrow, chuckling to yourself as you waited to see how long it would take for your normally level-headed friend to notice that you were already there.

“Hyung—“ One of the younger looking ones—one with cute baby fat cheeks that you knew would slim out in the future--nodded your way.

Namjoon’s face was bright red, his eyes widening on you. “I shouldn’t have invited you here, omigod. No one look—she’s off limits!”

“But she’s cute—“

“Hey, we’re not that bad—“

But you were already folded over laughing, grinning up at him.

That was the atmosphere you wanted--well, maybe with fully clothed people. But you wanted the dancers in the background, the music in the air, the lightheartedness that came from feeling surrounded by friends and kindness. You wanted that feeling of happiness, of being in a space that was more family than stranger. It was Namjoon’s coffee shop after all; he had a knack for making people feel like they belonged.

Your pencil scratched across the paper, your mind lost to the point that the world dropped around you. For all you were aware, you might have been in a black hole with just you, paper, a pencil and a brick wall. At some point, though you didn’t remember when, you grabbed the priming paint and started to slather white across the wall in thick strokes. And then, when you came to reality with the brush in your hand, that familiar, overwhelming sense of dread settled back in your stomach.

This was awful. This was an awful design, it was going to be horrible—you were going to hate it in the exact same way that you hated all of your other works. It was going to pale in comparison.

Comparison.

Namjoon had once said that was your first problem. You always compared yourself to other people, never seeing yourself as yourself. However, existing in an art space made it difficult to live without comparing yourself to others. There was a reason your colleagues were more successful, there was a reason they did things you could not—you weren’t good enough, you weren’t—

You spun around, the brush still held out in your hand at the exact right angle to slap a streak of white across a very attractive and otherwise confused man. You froze instantly, hearing Namjoon in the background as a mumble rather than a voice, speaking to some customer about what you were doing. It was hard to focus when all you could see and hear was this poor person you had just unknowingly marred with paint that most definitely did not come out of clothing.

“Shit.” You slapped a hand over your mouth, nearly flinging the paintbrush onto the tarp stretched across the floor. “Omigod. I’m so sorry—I’m so, so, so sorry. I honestly didn’t know you were there—ah, omigod.” You didn’t know what to do; you were never good with confrontation and even less good with testosterone. Did you mention that you had only ever had two boyfriends? One of which lasted a week in middle school because he called you pretty and wanted to kiss you. The other was maybe a month and ended with you finding out that you were a side-chick. Needless to say, your experiences with men were scarring and strange—and then there was Namjoon.

The stranger just chuckled, wiping the paint speckling his face with the hem of his shirt. “It’s fine, really—this is just my workout shirt anyways. It could use a little sprucing up.” He was grinning, and you found it infectious enough to sooth the tension in your muscles.

“Ah.” It was the most intelligent thing you could manage. Though that wasn’t saying much; you usually had only two brain-cells and, whenever an attractive man was involved, they always seemed too busy fighting each other to focus.

“Namjoon told me he got an artist friend to paint something for him—I thought I’d check it out.”

Your ears lit aflame and you ducked your head to avoid his direct stare. He had a nice smile—like a really nice smile. Your heart was doing this thing where it was squeezing so tight that there was a 90% possibility you might throw up on his shoes. “Y-yeah? We’re actually childhood friends, so I’m sure it’s not as grand as you were expecting—well, I only started but yeah. Yeah.” Good one, Y/N. Real smooth.

The man’s eyes seemed to light up, his eyes flitting across your face until something visibly clicked and he let out a small noise of surprise. “Yah! Y/N, right? You’re Y/N?”

You were stiff once more, your feet nailed to the tile beneath you. He was excited, you were confused, and he was cute when he was excited which made for an awful bumbling mess in your stomach.

“I was hoping it was you—I’m Hoseok, Namjoon’s friend from university. I know you only came in once to our studio, I remember I was late and just missed you.”

“Oh.” You tried to fish for memories of Namjoon talking about the man but the only thought pulling free from the strangled thoughts in your head was ‘dancing.’ “You’re…the dancer, right?” You winced at the unsureness in your voice.

He grinned even wider and even more infectious in all the ways that made your feeble heart slam into your ribs. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“I have a friend who dances in her spare time.” You said stupidly, fishing for anything in front of you that would help you relate to a person as impossibly handsome as Hoseok. Minji was probably not the best choice, but she was the only other human you could maybe slap the label of “friend” to.

“Yeah?” He grinned at you.

“Yeah, she’s pretty amazing at painting too. It’s hard to be her friend sometimes with talent like her; I’m not particularly good in comparison—but I try. I’m thankful for this opportunity.”

Hoseok raised on eyebrow at you. “Is she now? I’ll have to get Namjoon’s opinion of this friend of yours; I trust him fully. He always knows the people around him best—after all, he talks endlessly about you.”

You cocked your head at him, face transforming into an even deeper shade of red.

“Ever since university, he never shut up about you. I mean, it was always ‘my cute sister—ah, she’s not actually blood but she might as well be’ and ‘Y/N is so talented, isn’t she?’ Actually, standing here, I see why he was so talkative.” He nodded towards your open and abandoned sketchbook, eyes glued to the page. “It’s hard to believe there’s someone in this world that can do something better than that.”

“I—“

“Hoseok?” Namjoon’s voice cut through your words, allowing you to pull back within yourself as Hoseok turned to watch his friend come towards him with an emotion that you were not yet ready to understand. “What are you doing here so early?”

“I wanted to see Y/N.”

“I’m sure.” Namjoon’s eyes were unusually dark, his jaw tight. Were you perceptive enough, maybe you would have saved yourself some tears—but you weren’t. ”How about you go let her get back to work.” Namjoon put a hand on his shoulder, spinning him away from you with a quick, worried glance towards you. “We’re meeting up over there.”

Hoseok only laughed, and, for a minute, you thought it sounded nice.

~.~

When you arrived at Beyond the Scene—Namjoon’s name for his coffee shop; it was better than previous drafts—you were surprised to find a person already sitting by your things with a set in stone expression that said he’d wait there until you arrived, no matter how long that would take. The second you stepped through the door, Hoseok’s eyes lit up with an emotion akin to recognition and mischief.

It was the latter that scared you.

He was still too new to you for you to feel like it was possible to act the same as you would around Namjoon. What you wanted to do was raise an eyebrow with your hands on your hips and throw a bickering comment to him. Besides the fact that his mere presence made your heart race, this intruder in your workspace seemed to have a force-field around him that dispelled all of your sarcasm and the meager scraps of yourself that you labeled as confident. Actually, it was probably because your chest squeezed too tight when he was near that you couldn’t be normal around him.

You opened your mouth with stupid words on your tongue. Instead, you swallowed them and said something even stupider: “You’re here.”

Hoseok laughed in a way that you should have found annoying. It was all high and loud and absolutely boisterous. But, it was infectious in all the right ways and you found yourself drawn to him because of it. Somehow, he was a duality of a man—one that screamed fuckboy and safety all at once.

You awkwardly shuffled towards your stuff, dumping your bag into a nearby chair so you could free up your hands to pull the tarp free from your box of miscellaneous paints and brushes.

To make your stiff and wooden movements worse, Hoseok was unfazed by your presence. He was comfortable as can be, leaning forward in his seat to be close enough to see but not close enough to invade your very large bubble of privacy. “I wanted to see an artist at work.”

You raised an eyebrow at him over your shoulder, but even that felt forced and ugly. “You can’t see that in the dance studio?”

“But you’re not there.” He cocked his head, as if the words that just passed through his lips had no effect on the heat of your skin. “Namjoon told you about the studio?”

“That you own one? Of course he told me—Namjoon tells me a lot. While I may not understand every word that comes out of the moron’s mouth, I know that he’s talented. Talent attracts talent; there’s obviously a reason he speaks about you.” You snorted, shaking your head. “I’m just the idiot he grew up with, that’s all. You came to the wrong place if you wanted to see true artistry.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees so he could rest his chin on his hands. There was this shit-eating smirk on his face that seemed to incinerate a hole through you, all of your defenses failing to maintain your normal, not lobster-red skin tone. “So, Y/N, what do you know about me?”

You busied yourself with setting the tarp up across the floor below the mural space. Occasionally, your gaze would flicker towards him, but it was easier to focus on other things and maintain your sanity rather than get lost in his pheromones. “All I really know is that you dance. Namjoon doesn’t like talking much about his male friends with me—what he does tell me is that they are all assholes and they play girls like musical chairs; I think that’s the older brother in him showing through.” You chuckled, your gaze drifting to the memory of a worked up Namjoon smothering you with blankets when you told him you had a crush on one of your classmates in high school. “That’s really all I know; to me, you are a one-dimensional character.”

“One without good traits.” He winced, his face effortlessly transforming into a pout that would put a baby to shame. “That’s not fair. Namjoon talks about you like crazy; I feel like I know you personally—like you’re my best friend too. Do I need to start a petition to change those dimensions? Or will you let me if I say please?”

You frowned at the wall with a shake of your head, but it did nothing to stop the heat pooling up to your ears. “Maybe if you say please I will.”

You could see him grin out of the corner of your eye, warmth immediately spreading across your back. Hoseok was like the sun—but not the sun during the day, the one everyone always compared people to. No, Hoseok was the kind of bright like that you could actually look at head-on; he was the warmth of a sunrise, lots of color and promises that may or may not be kept. “Please?”

You felt electricity run up your spine. There was something chemical about this boy; radioactively toxic in a way that no other male could compare to. “You have a lot of ground to make up, you know. Namjoon must tell me to stay away from you for a reason.”

Hoseok stood up and you turned to face him, watching as he stepped towards you and rolled up his sleeves. “Alright then miss, let me start by working while I cover some of that ground, hm? Let me help you.”

You grabbed a brush similar to yours, holding it out to him in a strategic way—one that wouldn’t allow his skin to touch yours.

Hoseok, however, had other plans and grabbed way too far up the paintbrush, his fingers meeting yours.

“Ah--" The heat was back in your chest. No matter how much you thought you could get over his presence, it seemed he purposefully did things that made you take one step forward and three back. “The wall will need a second coat of gesso.” You said, hoping to cover up the obvious fact that you were reacting to his touch.

His smile told you that you were unsuccessful.

~.~

“I should have mentioned that I’m really only good at dancing.” Hoseok chuckled a half hour later as you, begrudgingly, set yourself to going over the ‘work’ he had attempted to help with. He got more paint on himself than on the damn wall—no doubt proving the validity of his statement.

You sighed at him, shaking your head at the floor. “You really need to get cleaned up or your clothing is going to stiffen when the paint dries.”

Hoseok laughed, his hands immediately going to the hemline of his shirt so he could lift it over his head. However, you let out a noise more demon than human and alerted every customer in the shop to your red faced, flustered grasp on his wrists.

“I didn’t say to take off your shirt!” You sputtered, flames igniting under the skin of your face.

Hoseok only laughed at your chagrin, grinning at you in a way that you were positive would make any girl before him melt. You knew it had probably been used to manipulate a cult following, and it was, for that reason, why you wished you could be the exception. “What? Are you embarrassed? You’ve never seen a guy shirtless before?”

You pressed your lips into a line—an expression that half resembled a cartoon frog and half a frown. “This is a family establishment.”

He only shrugged. “It’s fine anyways. Namjoon’s not here-- he’s got the weekend off. I think I’m allowed to play while the giant is gone.”

You cocked your head and furrowed your brows in confusion. Hoseok’s eyes darkened on you with an emotion you had no previous experience with.

“Cute.”

You, realizing you had yet to let go of him, dropped his wrists and shoved him backwards—away from you. Unfortunately, you were a painter, not a weightlifter and you only wound up pushing him back enough for his weight to shift onto his back foot.

“Minji is cute—not me. I’m just average. If you’re going to compliment me, at least bring it down to my level.”

Hoseok cocked his head, eyes shifting somewhere further than the café. “That’s the name of your friend, right? The dancer and artist?”

You nodded. “She’s my only friend besides Namjoon; I can say for sure that she’s definitely something.”

If something was talented, self-centered, oblivious to other people and rude as hell.

“So, this girl, if you’re comparing her to yourself, she must be something of an absolute goddess.”

“Mm.” You confirmed his question with a nod. “She is.”

It wasn’t that you were clueless to the game Hoseok was playing; it was just that you were purposefully dodging every trap that he was setting up for you. You didn’t meet any of his glances; you didn’t let him gain any headway into your heart. If there was one thing you weren’t going to do, it was succumb to him—you were not going to walk right into his grasp like a fool.

Sure, you and people—men specifically—mixed more like oil and water than human interaction, but you weren’t stupid. Your good grades didn’t result in a lack of common sense.

“So?” Another chess piece moved on the board game. “Should I ask her out?”

You shrugged, swallowing the small knot of jealousy and disappointment in your throat. “I don’t see why not? You guys would be a perfect match.” You grinned at him.

“Okay, then could you give me her number so I can contact her?”

Namjoon was right about him. Namjoon was usually right; it shouldn’t have surprised you that this game wasn’t going to end in your favor. However, the blatant womanizing thrown in your face wasn’t an easy pill to swallow.

“Take anything my friends say with a grain of salt, okay? They’re all assholes. None of them know how to treat a member of the opposite sex—I don’t want to see you get hurt, Y/N.”

You pulled your phone out of your back pocket, scrolling through your contacts until you found Minji’s number. Handing it to him, you gave him a short nod before turning around to face the wall.

You had work to do if you wanted that paycheck at the end of the month.

~.~

Namjoon leaned over your shoulder as you sat at a tarp covered table, furiously scribbling out your original plans for the mural in your sketchbook. “You didn’t like your idea?”

You grunted, grabbing a fistful of your hair at the root. “I need a new direction—this one isn’t good enough for this place. It will close in the already small space—I need to open it up, not make it smaller and staler.”

“Oh geeze, thanks. The compliment on my shop makes me feel real good.” Your best friend said in a sarcastic monotone that had you wheeling around to smack his chest. Unfortunately, neither of you were gifted with grace so you wound up head-butting him and smacking him at the same time.

“Yah!”

“How was I supposed to know you were standing so close?” You snapped back. With a guilty sigh, you let your head drop onto the table as you let out a low whine/groan. “I don’t know what to do, Joon. I’m fresh out of inspiration.”

“I’ll say this as I always do: I think you’re being too hard on yourself. What you had was amazing.”

“Not good enough.” You grumbled. “Not good enough to be permanently attached to your café.”

He patted your back lightly, shaking his head. “You are good enough. Whatever comes from your hand will only add to my shop, not detract from it.” He lifted his head up to the blank, now white, wall. “Man, you painted this whole thing this weekend? That must have taken you a while.”

Without thinking, you answered stupidly. “Hoseok stopped by to help me. Said something about wanting to see my work or whatever.”

You felt Namjoon immediately tense, his jaw flexing to the point that you half expected to hear the crunch of his teeth breaking each other. “He knew I wasn’t here. There was no reason for him to be here.”

You blinked slowly up at him. “Correct. I think he just wanted Minji’s number.”

“I know you’re not that stupid, Y/N.”

“No, but I’m amazing at denial.”

He let out a scoff through his teeth, though it wasn’t directed at you. “I’m going to kill him.”

You sighed, folding your arm up under your head as a semi-decent pillow. “He seems decent enough compared to what you’ve told me. I mean, he’s nice, definitely overly flirty, but nice.”

“No—it always starts like that. You don’t get it, Y/N—Hoseok…He—He’s the one I’m the most afraid of when it involves you. He’s relentless. Before he had ever even met you, he had shown interest. Even when he was well aware I had placed you as off limits, he still pushed it. I can’t—I’m going to kill him.”

“Joon, I don’t want to date him. I just said he’s kind of nice.”

“Y/N, I love you, but you have no experience with guys. You’re going to get sucked in and get yourself hurt. The best thing for me to do is murder him so that is not a problem.”

You rolled your eyes, Namjoon folding over you to snuggle into your hair. “I couldn’t bear it if you got hurt because of one of my friends.”

You let out a small sigh of contentment, closing your eyes. “It won’t happen. He’s not as interested as you seem to think he is—neither am I.”

“Who’s interested in what?”

The sudden voice of the devil himself startled both you and Namjoon—however, the male was the one to stand ramrod straight while you remained paralyzed in a quasi-relaxed pose. Namjoon spun, his anger a palpable presence in the air.

“Hoseok.” It was vicious enough to have the other male putting his hands up in surrender without even knowing why.

“What did I do?” He cocked his head in fraudulent innocence, only intensifying Namjoon’s anger.

“I told you she’s off limits to your bullshit—I told you-“

Sitting up fully, you reached out and snapped Namjoon back by his shirt, if only to save yourself some embarrassment. “Idiot! Shut up! It’s not like that and you know it, so stop.”

Hoseok’s eyes flickered between you two, decoding the small touches, the cuddling, the smiles, the way you two interacted all in a few seconds. Whatever conclusion he came to, it wasn’t one that he liked. “I just wanted to see her artwork, that’s all. You always told me she was so talented.”

“See?” You smacked Namjoon for effect. “That’s it.” There was a heavy weight on your chest, the hoof of a horse slamming into your sternum with the force of a car crash. “That’s all.”

Hoseok’s gaze fluttered down to the blacked out paper before you. “What happened to your idea?” He tried to address the question to you, but there was a roadblock of a human being between you.

“She didn’t like it—it didn’t fit the space well, she said.” Namjoon spoke for you, his stare still piercing holes through his friend.

There was some testosterone filled staring contest, some mano eh mano moment that you couldn’t even begin to understand between the two of them.

“She’s waiting for the right inspiration to strike.” Namjoon said, his gaze never leaving Hoseok’s.

“I’m sure she’ll find it.”

With a sigh that was part scoff, part exasperation, you gathered your sketchpad and pencils. Shooting a glare at both males, you pushed up to your feet. “There’s too much maleness happening here—I’m going to go sketch outside for a bit while you guys…I don’t know, cool it in the freezer for a second.” Shoving Namjoon out of your way, you headed out the front door.

~.~

Minji slapped the table with both open palms before actually sitting herself down across from you. It was her way of instantly alerting your attention to the fact that she was overly excited and about to start one of her whirlwind one-sided conversations.

“How come you never told me that you knew Jung Hoseok?” She nearly shouted even though you were maybe a foot away at max.

You ran your eraser along a misplaced mark, the pencil you had been using to sketch held between your teeth. “Probably,” You murmured through the wood base, “Probably because, up until a week ago, I didn’t.”

“Are you serious?” She sputtered. “Are you seriously not recognizing his name?”

You shrugged. “I mean, sure—he’s Joon’s friend, so of course I’ve heard the name.”

“No! You—ugh—you idiot!” She snatched the pencil from your teeth, much to your own outburst of annoyance. She waved you off, preventing any progress on your work with the hostage held in her hand. “He’s the top dancer in Seoul! He literally graduated at the peak of his dance class at the top dance school in the whole country. He owns and teaches a whole studio by himself! How in the ever-living fuck do you not know how much of a big deal he is?”

“Probably because I don’t dance.”

“You don’t have to dance to be educated.”

“And you don’t have to be uneducated to be stupid.” You hissed, waving your open palm in her face to signal your demand for your lost pencil.

She stuck her tongue out at you in one of the ugliest faces you had yet to see from her. “Well, whatever. I should at least thank you, because of your dumb ass I have a date scheduled with him.”

“I just wanted to see her artwork. That’s all.”

“Mm.” You grunted, fingers now waggling as your glare intensified.

With a scoff, Minji dropped the pencil into your palm, nose scrunching at the way you curled back into your sketch—like a snail retreating into its shell. “God, Y/N. You act like this whole painting thing is so difficult.”

If murder were legal, Minji would be your first victim.

You didn’t answer, only shot her a glare through your hair and continued your work.

“You know, what you need is a focal point.”

This time, you actually threw your sketchbook at her.

~.~

“And another thing that pisses me off, she’s actually right!” You shouted to the ceiling, placing your hands on your hips as you watched cars whiz by through the night on the street outside the shop. Beyond the Scene was long since closed, but, since you were hired guns as an artist and also Namjoon’s friend, you had special access.

“You’re really letting Minji get under your skin?” Namjoon raised an eyebrow at you over his stack of books. He was a good friend to keep you company during your ranting, rampaging work at night. Granted, he was doing it more for your safety than your peace of mind. But still, the gesture was sweet. “You know what she’s like—nothing has changed.”

“You know what?” You spat to the wall, trying to merge your sketch and the wall together with nothing but your mind. When that, obviously, didn’t work, you refocused your attention on the passing cars. “She and Hoseok are perfect for each other.”

“No no. No no no no. None of that—take that back. Nope. No.”

“Why?” You stared at his reflection through the glass of the window pane outside, one eyebrow raised.

“Because, when you’re getting angry and that means you’re developing feelings for him. That’s not allowed. Not here, not now, not ever. Not for Jung Hoseok.”

You sighed, groaning to the poor ceiling once more. “I am not getting feelings for him, Joon. How many times do I have to repeat this?”

“Why would you even bring him up in this situation then? This is about Minji, not Hoseok!”

“Because they’re going on a date!” You hissed to his reflection. “This is the situation that caused her little tantrum!”

Namjoon dug his nails into the counter top, his shoulders tightening. “That’s bullshit. He was gunning for you and now he’s doing this to her and you—“

“Of course he’d go for Minji, I didn’t want any part of this—“

“No, Y/N. Not Minji.” He sighed, running one hand through his hair. “Hoseok isn’t the type of man to have just one girl on a string. You know what I’m saying?”

You shook your head, turning around to face him. “No. I really don’t.”

“Hoseok already has a girlfriend. Not Minji, not you, not even the girl he went on a date with last week—someone else entirely.”

Your mouth hung open in a small “O” as your gaze found solace in the pattern of the tiles on the floor.

Silence hung thick in the air, a sort of mulled tension that wasn’t directed at the other person. Rather, you both had things you had to work out in your mind before you could find the right words to say.

“They really are perfect for each other, then. Minji will think that she can fix him and he won’t ever be fixed.” You snorted, staring at the stain on your shoe instead of him.

Namjoon sighed, his head dropping low as he laced his fingers together in a gesture akin to praying. “Please tell me that you don’t have feelings for him; please tell me that my gut instinct isn’t right. Please tell me that you won’t fall for Jung Hoseok.”

“Namjoon, I promise you that I have no feelings for him.”

At the time, that might have been true. Because, at the time, you still didn’t know him.

But Namjoon was always smarter than you, and his gut instinct was always right.

~.~

Curled over your book on the bench outside the coffee shop, you tried to sketch in the desperate hope that the change of scenery was enough to strike a chord of inspiration within you. It wasn’t.

In fact, the only thing you had managed to sketch was the street itself—which you didn’t entirely hate; it was just missing that factor that made it fun. As Minji would tell you “you need a focal point.” So, the street it was, you decided. At least if you started painting the buildings along the side, it would produce more time for you to think about the center.

You hoped by then you would have something you could be proud of.

As you were detailing out the surrounding buildings in your sketch, a body set itself down next to you, spreading its arms across the top of the bench to reach towards you as if he was actually welcome there.

He wasn’t.

You unfurled yourself from your sketchbook long enough to shoot a glare at the man beside you. Unfortunately for you, it was a person you weren’t expecting. You had thought Namjoon, since he was the only one comfortable enough around your aura of “leave me the fuck alone” to dare push the boundaries. However, it seemed that Hoseok was oblivious to such intricate body language.

“That’s beautiful.” He nodded towards your sketch.

You stared at him as if he just called a trashcan stunning. “It’s literally just a shot of the street.”

“So?” He chuckled. “I can’t even draw a straight line-that looks like a masterpiece to me.”

“There’s not even a focal point!”

He only grinned, lightly patting your shoulder in a way that ignited a chemical reaction in your skin—he was warm, and gentle. It was undeniable that you were physically attracted to him, even though you shouldn’t be. “You’ll make one, I have faith in you. You’re not Namjoon’s favorite artist for no good reason. The guy has tastes like fine wine and cheese.”

The sudden idiotic statement had you sputtering out into laughter, snorting to your feet. “That makes no sense.” You chuckled, looking up at him mid smile only to find that his eyes were unable to pull away from you.

Danger. Warning. Run.

Your brain screamed signals that told you to get the hell out of dodge. However, your heart controlled your body better and you stayed there, smiling.

“Hey, I never was the smart one—as I said, my one talent in life is dancing.”

“I’m sure you have more positive points other than dancing.”

He tilted his head with a comedic grimace, his gaze on you so sincere, so pure, that for a moment you couldn’t believe that he was a player. You couldn’t believe a word that Namjoon said about him. No fuckboy smiled like sunsets, smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, and listened to every word you had to say with their full attention.

“Idiot! Shut up! It’s not like that and you know it, so stop.”

There was a moment where Hoseok was awkward, around you, with you—a moment where the fuckboy in him disappeared and he almost didn’t know what to say. Then, it was back with a vengeance.

“You should come to my studio—you need…you need to get out of the headspace that this place offers. Maybe you’ll find some inspiration in an entirely different setting, yeah?” He cocked his head to the side, his eyes reminiscent of a puppy that had never been denied anything in his life.

“No.”

He furrowed his brows on you, confusion settling in between them. “Why not?”

Your eyes flit across his face as you felt a weight peel off your shoulders, a chess game where you flipped over his last piece. You had his last secret, and now he knew you knew his game. Though, it was stupid of you to think that a boy who was great at lying wouldn’t still claim to see wolves. “It’s not appropriate.” You started. “I can’t dance anyways. I also wouldn’t want to hurt Minji in any way, not like that. What would she think?” You paused, seeing the fear in his eyes ignite before sputtering entirely. “What would your girlfriend think?”

You had never seen a look more ‘caught-red-handed’ than the one Hoseok gave you. He winced at his shoes. “Namjoon told you about Soonmi, huh?”

“He never told me a name.” You adjusted your focus back to the sketchbook, the sound of lead on paper the only noise aside from tires crunching on asphalt. “He just told me that you have a girlfriend and you’re pulling this. In a nutshell, he said you’re an awful human being.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it when there were no words to say.

You shrugged. “I don’t know if I believe that you are truly awful. I think that maybe you’re fucked up, but not a horrible person. A horrible person doesn’t help someone that slathered them in paint do said painting—even if they suck at it.”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck to alleviate some of his awkwardness. “I don’t suppose you’d let me explain?”

You smiled at your sketch. “I’m willing to listen; however, what I choose believe may or may not be another story.”

His eyes searched your face, even when you refused to look back up at him, you could feel him trying to find the lie in your words—trying to find some part of you that was going to look at him differently. He tried to find the weakness in the guard to your heart, but you thought yourself sturdy—armed to the tens.

“We started off as friends with benefits, you know? Both of us had our own flings on the side. It wasn’t serious. We just enjoyed each other’s company every now and again.”

He looked at you as if you were supposed to understand the sentiment; instead you met him with a deadpan stare. “Can’t relate.”

He let out a bark of laughter that you should have found offensive and annoying, but to you, it was only pleasant. Hoseok was pleasant. Even as a fuckboy, you felt that he had a warm personality—perhaps it was why people with weak souls such as yours were drawn to him like moths to a flame. “It makes sense, honestly. You’re pure—don’t give me that look—you aren’t a woman scorned, just someone who has never had their heart broken.”

“Excuse me, I have dated people.”

He rolled his eyes. “Not seriously. Namjoon said none of them even lasted a year.”

“Because men are stupid and, unfortunately, my sexuality only sways towards them.”

He laughed again, heat swarming your cheeks. “You must be warming up to me to be throwing such insults.” He ducked his head as your immediate glare. “I’m sorry; I’m not good at this whole explaining thing.”

“No.” You pretended to itch your nose in an attempt to pat out the redness to your face. “You’re not.”

“I—I’ve never been good at stating my true feelings, or you know, my actual opinions. I like to make people happy and, sometimes, I think I’ll say anything just to see someone smile. Its one trait that probably handed me the shovel I dig my grave with now. On top of that, I…I was never what you would call handsome. In fact, out of my friend group, females dubbed me as ‘the ugly one’.” His eyes darkened as he scratched the back of his neck, working out the kinks in his mind before he spoke aloud. “I guess I was just charming in a way that was only ever good for a ‘friends with benefits’ relationship at max. I mean, I still don’t think I’m charming, or handsome, or ‘boyfriend material’ but my mindset about how females see me has definitely changed thanks to Soonmi.”

“How kind of you to cheat on her as a thank you.”

“Hey,” He scoffed. “She’s not a saint.”

“She can’t be if she’s with you.”

Hoseok rolled his tongue across his teeth, letting out a deep, repressed sigh. “She told me that she had feelings for me—she was the first girl to see something in me that she wanted to keep by her side. Somehow, she made me believe that I actually wasn’t as ugly as I was made out to be. So I said fuck it and we started dating.”

You cocked your head to the side, lazily running your pencil along your sketchpad. “Maybe Namjoon is right; maybe you are an awful person.”

“I—It’s—Soonmi, you don’t get it, she’s a cunning manipulative bitch—which is, I guess, my type. She’s a horrible person who once put a laxative in someone’s drink just so they would miss out on a test and she would be the student with the highest marks. But she claimed to love me, and that was enough for me.”

You nodded along with his words, soaking in all of the facts laid out before you. Once your words settled into place, you set your pencil down and leaned back into the bench to better meet Hoseok’s gaze. “I was never bullied, never called ugly—but never called attractive either. I was just invisible my whole life—and I continue to be. As such, it is difficult for me to get to know people and become friends. Once I’ve warmed up to a person, however, there are no holds barred. Until the moment you make me comfortable, you are lucky to make me utter a proper sentence.” There was something knotting in your stomach, some pressure from the intensity of his stare as he listened to each and every word with his full attention. If nothing else, in this moment, you could believe that your words mattered to him. “So, Hoseok, I’m going to be completely honest with you. With everything you have told me, your explanation is a shit reason to excuse what you are doing.”

Despite the severity of your words, despite the fact that you saw something in his gaze shatter, his attention never wavered from you. It was intense enough to bring a stutter back into your speech.

Damn, how the hell could girls think he was ugly?

“What do you honestly feel towards Soonmi? What is the truth? Remember that my friend is on the line here and, though she fits the bill for your heartless bitch type, I still won’t hesitate to jam a pencil into your eye.”

Most stupid threats made guys look at you like you had a third eye, Hoseok, however, spoke without a second thought—his gaze so glued to you that you had to use every bit of energy to stop any sort of heat in and outside of you.

“I have no interest in Soonmi.”

Your eyes flit across his face, ready to detect any lie at a moment’s notice; you were shit at such intricate work, but damned if you weren’t going to try. “Then break it off with her—entirely. Don’t go back, don’t keep her number, don’t keep her things. Save her some pain and stop wasting her time.”

It was at that moment, that you caught a glint in Hoseok’s eye that scared you; some light that started as a small spark before bursting to flames. The first fire to the end of a war. A checkmate. “I will—but only if you promise to come to my studio.”

You felt caught in a web; some intricately spun situation that you were entirely unaware was being constructed around you until the final thread was tied around your neck. “Minji—“

“She’ll be there—she won’t mind. If it’s you, she’ll be okay. So just…just come to one practice and I swear on my life that I will end things once and for all.”

The trap snared around you, the fuckboy teeth sinking into your flesh. You were caught.

Because his eyes were so warm and he was so soft and this person before you wasn’t supposed to be a womanizer but totally was.

He was a duality.

One that caught you on the edge, half on either side.

“Okay.”

~.~

Apparently, as you found out when she came bursting into Beyond the Scene a week before you were to ‘attend’ Hoseok’s class, the studio time would be considered Minji and Hoseok’s ‘second date.’

You didn’t think one could count it as a date if it was in front of a group of people the entire time, but it was easier to just let her imagination wander instead of fight her stupidity.

“Y/N!” She shouted, taking a wrong turn the moment she entered the coffee shop. The poor group of people huddled at a table in the corner startled at the sudden outburst before Minji finally got her shit together and noticed that you could be found by the giant, white wall.

The one that she would have been aware of had she paid attention to you like normal friends did.

“Y/N!” You clung to the ladder as she approached, her footsteps more reminiscent of earthquakes than human gait. “You really outdid yourself with this one—he’s so much cuter in person than in his pictures; and he’s hella fine in his pictures.”

You, at first, weren’t sure who the ‘he’ in her reference was; it was only when your focused mindset drifted and reality settled into the cracks that the missing piece clicked. “Hoseok?”

“Who else? Seriously, you can be such an idiot—do you really think I just go on dates with random people all the time?”

You opened your mouth, but her threatening finger stopped you from starting your words.

“Don’t answer that.” As if finally realizing that you had been working on something high up on your ladder perch, Minji’s eyes flit to the blank wall. “You haven’t finished the mural yet?”

“Of course I haven’t!” You snapped. “I’m only just starting to transfer the buildings to the wall in the hopes that it’ll give me time to formulate an idea for the centerpiece.”

She made a face at the meager amount of color you had placed on the wall. “You really should have studied English or something else.”

It would have hit hard, were the words not coming from Minji’s vapid mouth. Instead, you rolled your eyes. “If I throw a glitter lipstick into the street, will you chase after it and get hit by a bus?”

Her expression could’ve fooled a younger version of yourself into believing that she was actually offended. “You’re such a bitch sometimes, you know that?”

You swiped a layer of thinned out acrylic paint across the wall, making the sketchy beginnings of the buildings you had yet to form. “I’m glad that we think the same of each other, Minji.”

“Oh don’t be salty. You know I mean it affectionately.”

“Mmm.” You snorted. “That’s one of us.”

She crossed her arms, letting the conversation go in place of another one you were not willing to have. “I’m going to see if I can get you a date to the studio, okay? You’re going to need a dance partner.” She smiled up at you as if she truly believed she was cupid herself. “Maybe that’ll put a chill pill down your throat.”

“Minji, I am not as dumb as you make me out to be--I’m well aware that you just want me distracted with someone other than the guy you’re eyeing. Just because I’ve talked to him and know him through Namjoon does not mean I have any intention of interacting. I am solely there to make you look better and work on my sketches.”

She tilted her head to the side, studying you. “You sell yourself short sometimes. You could be cute if you actually tried.”

“I really don’t want to. Me and the whole relationship thing don’t get along too well.”

“Well, I’m going to find you a date.”

You shot a glare over your shoulder, one that she only waved away with a laugh. There was nothing more you could say to her that would change her mind—once Minji’s decided on a path, she will run down it even if it means she’s going to burn straight into the ground.

Her headstrong nature was the sole reason you never told her about Hoseok’s girlfriend. She’d get a big head and would believe that she could change him for the better.

“Once you have Minji you never go back to basic.”

It’s precisely that ego that has caused her to be cheated on repeatedly without her knowledge. After all, there was a reason the only fist fight you’d ever gotten into was on her behalf. Contrary to popular belief, Minji was not as much of a shit person as she made herself out to be. Loyalty counts for a lot, especially in the face of absolute shitstorms of arguments. Despite it all, she stayed.

That counted for something.

“Good luck with that.” You murmured to the space where she had been standing, returning back to your work.

You didn’t know how long you sat perched up on that ladder, painting away the basic outlines to match your sketchbook. Maybe an hour? Three? All that you knew was, when your stomach started rumbling, you decided to climb down.

One thing about being so into art that time utterly disappears is that you wind up having a lot of limbs that fall asleep without your knowledge. With the sudden shock of pain at your needle-stabbed foot, your weight shifted and you nearly buckled backwards and sideways off the ladder. It didn’t help that you were about as graceful as a whale on land. If it weren’t for the sudden hands that hurriedly clasped around your hips, you were positive you would have fallen and injured yourself beyond perfect repair.

Steadying yourself with shaky hands on the ladder and noodle knees, you heard the pants of heaving breath from your savior, his hands on your hips remaining as a tether of balance. Despite the kindness intended behind the gesture, it felt all too intimate for your liking.

You turned over your shoulder to finalize your decision to either smack or thank the person who helped you, only to find all of your vocal chords frozen and useless at the mere sight of Jung Hoseok. There was just something about the man that had speech leaving you every time his face popped up unexpectedly. At least when you knew he was going to be there, you could prepare.

Were you blinded by his handsomeness? His charm? The fucking sun? You weren’t positive; all you knew was that, right then and there, he was too damn bright.

Though you were obviously irritated by his touch, he was all smiles the moment your eyes met his; happiness seemed to ooze from his pores and buzz through his skin and into yours. You wanted to be mad at him, you wanted to hate him—but all you hated was the way your heart inflated at the sight and feel of his presence.

“What are you doing here?” You stammered, your hands fisting the ladder with enough of a death grip that, if you were to fall a second time, the thing would come clamoring with you.

He was still out of breath—which was normal considering he probably had to run to save your dumb ass. “I had to tell you the news and then…well then I saw you almost crack open your skull and I just—I—“

You cast a glance down to his hands in the middle of his speech. Though he saw the look, he made no effort to remove his grip from you.

You supposed he would have, had you used words instead of glares.

“Anyways,” He started, trying to tug you down from the safety the ladder promised you. However, you didn’t budge; in fact, you tried to climb higher out of his reach. It was a useless act considering you were an artist and he was a dancer—he was, naturally, physically stronger and you were unable to escape the black hole of emotion that was Jung Hoseok. “I wanted to tell you that I broke up with Soonmi.”

You couldn’t help the way your jaw hung open as you stared down at him, at a loss for words—which wasn’t uncommon when he was involved; this time, though, it was for an entirely different reason. “Seriously?” You whispered. “I—I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it. Like, I know we made a deal but the way Namjoon made you out to be—I just—I—“

He chuckled, removing only one of his hands to grab his phone from the depths of his back pocket. With a nimble thumb, he scrolled to the texts of a furious woman scorned.

You supposed she couldn’t be too happy to hear about her cheating, son-of-a-bitch boyfriend breaking up with her. However—damn.

“She’s got quite the sailor’s mouth, doesn’t she?” You said on the tail end of a low whistle, eyes glued to the proof on the screen.

He actually did it.

Maybe—just maybe--you could believe some of what Hoseok said.

Then again, he had Minji.

Why did he need you to believe him?

Hoseok laughed, causing a knee-jerk reaction in your body that had your cheeks flushing and your palms dampening around the metal of the ladder. “I deserve it, though. However, there’s more at stake for me if I chose to break our deal—wounded pride is just a Saturday for me.” His eyes sparkled with something you weren’t willing to address; especially not when said boy was stringing you along a necklace of pretty girls.

He said these things to every girl he met.

“He’s going to break your heart, Y/N.”

“Was Soonmi a dancer as well?” You lifted your gaze from the continuous strings of slurs and cursing on the phone to Hoseok, signaling that you were done reading. You’d seen enough of his personal life and dick pics of Soonmi’s ex ex to know that he was telling the truth. However, you would not get those images burned from retinas—despite how desperately you wished to forget how ‘well hung’ some asshat was.

He shook his head. “No, she actually went for psychology. Since we were on opposite sides of campus, it made it a hell of a lot easier for me to…well…be an asshole.”

You snorted, letting out a small noise of fear as you finally wobbled your clumsy ass the rest of the way down the ladder. It was only when you were in front of him, both feet flat on the ground, that Hoseok decided it was finally okay to let go of you. The ghosts of his fingers lingered. “Well, at least your date with Minji seemed to go good—or so I was told.”

“It was interesting, I’ll give it that.”

His expression had a mischievous smirk manifesting on your face. It was always fun to hear a guy’s reaction after the first date with Minji. It either went along the lines of “she’s hot” or “she’s batshit.”

Hoseok ran his tongue along his teeth, his chuckle delving into nervous laughter territory as his eyes fixated almost anywhere but you. “I—um—hm…how do I put this nicely? Let’s just…let’s just say I’m glad our next date is in a public setting.”

You frowned at him, arms crossing over your chest. “Keep it in your pants, leading without consulting your brain is what got you into that mess with Soonmi.” You turned your back to him, instead refocusing your attention back towards your open sketchbook. All this talk and no work did not equal food on your table.

“That’s not—“

You laughed, throwing him one quick pity grin over your shoulder. “Its fine, Hoseok—it’s a joke. I know she’s a bit handsy—hopefully my presence will prevent some of that.” Your fingers ran across the page of your sketch. “I am looking forward to this, I guess. You know? With all these dancers suddenly surrounding me, I think I’ve decided that I’d like to put one of them at the center of my mural.”

You couldn’t see Hoseok’s expression with your back turned, but you were sure you didn’t want to see it anyways.

“Yeah? I’m looking forward to it too.”

~.~

Because you hadn’t planned on actually dancing, you didn’t wear the proper footwear—which, actually didn’t matter anyways because everyone switched shoes before entering the studios. However, your unpreparedness didn’t end with shoes; you also weren’t dressed for the occasion. You had just gotten back from your day-job as a secretary for an upstart company, nearly running into the room dolled up in a satin blouse and black trousers.

For your own credit, at least you had your sketchbook in hand.

Minji, who was already there, looked up at you from the floor as she tightened the laces on her dancing shoes. Well, ‘looking’ was the nice way of putting it—rather, she was staring at you like you were flipping her off with a hand that you sprouted from your forehead.

“What the hell are you wearing?” She hissed through her teeth so as not to make a scene. It didn’t really work because you, yourself, were a walking scene and already had the eyes of the other dancers in the room. Apparently, full on business casual coupled with a running asthmatic wheeze wasn’t common in a professional studio space.

“I just got off of work, sue me. You didn’t actually expect me to dance? Did you?”

She waggled her finger at you, her manicured nail within just enough reach that you contemplated ripping the acrylic tip off of it. “You’re just lucky my blind date for you cancelled last minute.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing full well Minji forgot about her half-assed idea and was now making stupid excuses for her memory. Instead, you walked yourself towards the mirror, dusted off a spot you knew wouldn’t be clean regardless, and sat down with your sketchbook and pencil in hand. Pants were washable, as long as the dust wasn’t made of permanent marker or sealant, you were good.

Just as you were getting settled in, Hoseok burst in the door looking every bit the type of person that would make your palms sweat and your throat close. If you had forgotten that he was handsome, you were definitely reminded of it now. His tank was clinging to his thin frame, showing that it was a size too-small based on the skin you saw between its hem and the band of the sweatpants he was wearing low on his hips. Effortlessly, he brushed his hair off his forehead, the strands staying slicked back with sweat.

Hoseok’s eyes found yours before they found Minji’s.

His head cocked to you in an unspoken question that had you raising your sketchbook to him and giving him a small nod. With an “O” of understanding, he then turned his attention to the glaring Minji. Squatting before her, his demeanor changed much like hers did—riding a line between kindness and flirtation. Minji was much less subtle however, her lashes batting excessively as she leaned forward to offer him her towel.

Your hand started moving despite itself, wanting to capture the way the droplets of sweat ran over Hoseok’s Adam’s apple. But, when you finally realized what you were doing, your lines became a smattering of scribbles to blot out the voyeuristic image.

Pushing up to his feet, he made his way towards you to repeat his squat and talk method he seemed to be a fan of. Apparently, unlike you, Hoseok wasn’t the type to get his ass dusty.

“I can get you a chair, you know.”

You shrugged. “It’s too late—these are old pants anyways.”

He grinned at you, that warmth creating an ache in your heart that had your hand itching to draw him again. Maybe it was something about seeing him in his place of passion rather than in the wild outdoors of city life, but he was stunning. Captivating.

Intoxicating.

Even though the room smelled like sweat and he reeked of fading cologne and cheese, you didn’t mind it.

“You sure you don’t want to dance?”

You gave him a look that had him laughing in a way that cracked your forced seriousness into bubbles of laughter.

His eyes flit across your face, his smile a permanent fixture on his features. “I have to go start the class now.”

You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you pulled a pencil from your bag. “That would probably be a good idea.”

He was still frozen before you, as if there was something else he wanted to say—some other words eating their way through his brain with the intent to force them into his vocal chords. However, he said nothing more and, with a shake of his head, he was back up to his feet.

Minji was by his side instantly, her arm slinging around his waist in a way that would have been cute were you not aware that it was actually a possessive move on her end. Hoseok started to address the other dancers in the room, but your mind was floating elsewhere, watching the pair before you.

They really did fit nicely. Two attractive, talented people. Maybe Minji would be able to make him see that he was handsome; though she wouldn’t be able to fix him, it didn’t seem like he was as bad as Namjoon made him out to be—at least anymore.

He did break up with Soonmi after all. Not to say that there couldn’t be others, but you doubted it. Despite his airs of confidence, you knew he wasn’t lying when he said he believed he was ugly.

Only people with similar insecurities would be able to see that he was telling the truth.

Except for, you knew you thought worse of yourself than he did—after all, he had enough confidence to cheat in the first place.

And then, they started dancing.

Normally, you watched Minji with a strange sense of awe, a silent follower as she traipsed across the floor with effortless moves. However, Minji, who never once stumbled, looked like a novice compared to her partner. Hoseok was on another level entirely--off the deep end of your capability of understanding. When he moved, you could see every ounce of sweat, exhaustion, fear and happiness that went into his passion. He loved to dance; awful people didn’t hold things as close to their heart as dancing was to Hoseok’s. It made sense why Namjoon would always talk about him so fondly—aside from the whole relationship end—he never made him out to be a horrible human being.

Just a human being sharp enough to hurt you.

And, as Minji’s hand lingered on his chest and their faces got too close for comfort, you realized that maybe you should have listened to Namjoon. Maybe you should have run the other direction the moment you met him.

Somewhere along the way, your hand started sketching his movements, erasing Minji entirely from the scene; you fooled yourself into believing that it was because her form was not nearly as impressive as his. And then, it hit you—Hoseok would make a perfect focal point; after all, the sun is the focal point of the sky.

You ducked your head, losing track of where you were, how long the class was going on for, how long Hoseok was dancing with his date. None of that mattered, because you were staring at your drawing with lead on your fingertips from blending and fingerprints along the edges of your paper. It had been a long time since you truly lost yourself to your artwork, but, in that studio, you tapped into an energy that had eluded you for so long.

“That looks like a masterpiece to me.”

You hadn’t even realized the music had stopped until Hoseok and startled you from your mindless pondering. Throwing your head up, your gaze met Minji’s and she was so starstruck by Hoseok that she actually gave you a pretty cute smile.

It was suddenly very hard to breath in the heavy, sweat-laden air.

“Hit the showers!” Hoseok murmured as the ending to his mini speech to his class, clapping once more to finalize the statement.

You must have looked utterly confused when Minji walked past you towards her bag because she shrugged and let out a snort more pig than human. “The showers were installed after some dancers complained about having to work after practice. Now it’s just a regular thing, you know?”

“Are you going?”

She nodded, grabbing a bottle of shampoo and conditioner along with a change of clothes from her bag. “I’ll be back and then we can go, okay?”

You gave her a thumbs-up as she left the room, shifting enough to be able to start packing up your own things.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice echoed in the room, and when the door gently closed behind the last dancer you—all too late—realized that the two of you were now alone.

“So what?” It was pathetic how meek you were around him again, as if the sight of him dancing suddenly made him a different person that you had to acquaint yourself to.

“What did you think?” He leaned against a wall across the room from you, his eyes boring into your shoulders as your hands deftly tried to find a fallen eraser.

You felt like a rabbit in an open, grassy plain with a hawk staring at you from a tree.

“It was…” You tried not to think of your sketches, of the way Hoseok’s eyes seemed to darken on you across the room, at the way you couldn’t breathe. Instead, you tried to think that Minji wasn’t going to take forever in the shower (she was) and that she was going to be back shortly (she wasn’t). “You’re a really good dancer.”

“Just good?” He cocked his at you, peeling his back from the wall.

“Amazing.” You raised an eyebrow at him. “That better?”

He laughed, sending goosebumps down your spine—you wanted it to be out of fear, but you knew your body better than that. “Much.” His eyes shifted to your sketchbook as he walked towards you, his eyes inquisitive. “Can I see?”

You pressed your lips into a line, pulling the book closer to you. “Nope.”

It was the bullet that broke the tension in the air, and suddenly you were both laughing as he dove for you. With a bout of childish defiance, you slid the sketchbook underneath you, sitting atop it to prevent him from seeing your drawings. However, it had not occurred to you that Hoseok, while in the process of recovering from his adultery, was not in the process of overcoming his fuckboy tendencies.

His arms were around you, his voice high and whiny as he struggled to reach underneath you to rip your sketchbook and all your secrets from your grasp. You held on white-knuckled, putting as much of your weight as you could on top of the sketchbook whilst trying not to get lost in the expanse of chest in your face. He should smell awful; but for some reason, he didn’t.

He was a sweaty, tired mess and yet he still managed to smell like vanilla. He was so warm, his skin practically scalding you every time it brushed across yours. This was dangerous--something so utterly perilous if only because you had never wanted to kiss a disgusting boy and now, suddenly, you wanted to be in Minji’s place. You wanted to go on a date with Hoseok, dance with Hoseok; you wanted your arm to be around Hoseok’s waist, your face to be close to Hoseok’s.

He pulled away from you; the part of you that you had locked away in denial tore away with him. “Fine.” He pouted, unbeknownst to your sudden revelations. “If you won’t show me, then at least have a dance with me.”

“You’re exhausted.” You whispered, the humidity and the sudden, physical struggle breaking a sweat across your forehead.

“So? I invited you here so I could dance with you; at least fulfill that wish for me.”

“I can’t dance.”

“Excuses.” He chuckled, throwing your own words in your face. “Let me teach you.”

“Hoseok--" But he was already up on his feet--already brushing the dust off his sweatpants. You didn’t have any more fight in you, if only because your body was betraying you in his presence. You wanted to dance with him if only to be close to him. There was no rhyme or reason why you fell hard for Jung Hoseok. In fact, everything that you ever knew told you that you shouldn’t even tolerate him. But somehow—a chemical connection maybe?—you found yourself starting to.

You found yourself wanting to take Soonmi’s recently vacated place.

He grabbed both of your hands in his, pulling you up off the floor and into his chest so he could adjust his grip and intertwine his fingers with yours. “I want to see how bad of a dancer you really are.” You rag-dolled in his grasp, letting him do all the work because your sudden gelatinous knees wouldn’t let you do anything but stand there.

You laughed, head falling forward into his chest if only because you tried to duck away but found that he was too close for such an escape. “I’m awful; you’ll see.”

“Mm.” He spun you around, turning so that you got a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You wanted to retract inside yourself at the sight. There you were, an absolute mess, standing with this handsome yet crazy man who somehow inspired you in ways that you couldn’t even begin to explain. It was a contradicting sight.

You looked so wrong next to him.

“You know, Y/N.” He murmured as he twisted you into the first movement that you had seen him pull with Minji. “I realized something about you today—I’ve always known, but it finally clicked.”

“Hm?” You licked your dry lips, trying to imagine that maybe you were good enough to stand next to him. Maybe you weren’t as flawed as you thought.

But the mirror haunted the backs of your eyelids as Hoseok lightly moved you through a dance without music.

“You honestly think that Minji is better than you.”

Your eyes flew open, landing on his face in an expression that said “duh.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he pulled you into a pose that looked utterly stupid until he corrected your form with gentle hands and a smile that made your extremities feel fuzzy. “You shouldn’t.”

“You have your insecurities—let me have mine.” You murmured. “Minji is superior to me in every way—she’s pretty she’s a great dancer, and she can do anything she sets her mind to. We took an art class together and her raw talent made anything I’ve ever done pale in comparison. Even our prestigious professors stared at her work in awe.” You met his gaze for only a moment before shifting your eyes to stare at your own reflection. “Compared to Minji, I am a worm. All I can do is draw and paint—not even well.”

His movements got slower, more languid in a way that was meant to make you more comfortable in the foreign setting. But, there was no such thing as ‘comfortable’ when it came to Hoseok—when he was around you, your nerves were on fire and your mind couldn’t comprehend reality. Hoseok was a black hole for common sense, one that spit everything you ever knew right out the fucking window.

“All I can do is dance and you once told me that I was more than that; what makes you think that I shouldn’t be able to tell you that you are more than your opinion of yourself.”

You nearly tripped over your own feet, letting out a frustrated huff as you made eye contact with the floor instead of him. “Because you don’t get to tell me what to think of myself.”

“I want you to see yourself the way others see you.”

“Y/N! Hurry up you slow bitch!” Despite the brutal words from her mouth, you knew that there was little to no venom to it. Instead, you were gawking at the people gawking at Minji—she was all dolled up in her absolutely breathtaking dress that her mother had bought solely for this gala. For all of your effort, you might as well have been the carpet under her heeled feet as both genders gave heart eyes to the woman you called a friend.

“I’m coming.”

“I’m invisible to others; usually, I’m just a fly on the wall. People don’t notice me, Hoseok.” You chuckled darkly. “Just look at my sorry excuse for a love life.”

He frowned at you, his hand tightening in yours. “Fine—then don’t see yourself how others see you; see yourself the way I do.”

Your expression cracked in time with the rift forming in your chest—a Pandora’s Box to words that you weren’t ready to release. It all came out in a rush, in furrowed brows, glassy eyes, and a mountain of regrets. “Yeah? So I should just see myself as a million girls? A number in a little black book?”

You couldn’t pull away fast enough; you couldn’t gather yourself enough to escape his grasp and his stare. Instead, his hands were on either side of your face and, as tears ran down your cheeks, Hoseok was kissing you.

They say that when you kiss someone that you like, fireworks should go off and sparks should fly. Maybe that wasn’t true unless there was a chemical reaction between the two of you—some elements that, when they click together, explode. Every fiber of your being was on fire, bursting to flame at his touch, at something as simple as the pressure of his lips on yours.

Hoseok kissed you with the same passion he showed for dancing, and, if it weren’t for the buzzing alarms in the back of your head, you probably would have allowed him to swallow you whole.

You shoved him off of you, scrubbing at your face with the back of your hand. “I—“

The door opened and in walked Minji, her body freezing at the sight of both of you.

You could only imagine the two of you, covered in sweat, mouths bruised and swollen. Some of your lipstick was on Hoseok’s chin and there were streaks of mascara on your cheeks.

Minji’s eyes flit between the two of you, and, for a moment, you believed she was going to turn on you. She was going to blame you, she should blame you. You just kissed her date—she had every right to call you every name in her repertoire.

Instead, wordlessly, she grabbed your hand, her bag and yours, and let the door slam behind the two of you.

~.~

For a long while, and for a rare moment between the two of you, it was silent. Normally, Minji would be talking your ear off--her high, raspy voice filling the small space of her car as she sped her way to your place.

However, this tension wasn’t normal. There was nothing normal about this behavior—yours, hers, or Hoseok’s.

The silence was only broken when Minji’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, her gaze burning holes into the road before her. “You like him, don’t you?”

“Hoseok?” You whispered, hands folded neatly in your lap.

“Who else would I be talking about, you moron?” She curled her lip at her dash instead of you, letting out a sigh that seemed to have been building up for the last century. “He likes you too, you know.”

“That doesn’t happen.” You said quickly, turning to her as if that could make her understand that you didn’t want to hurt her—you didn’t want to take from her, you honestly didn’t mean for any of this to happen. “No one chooses me over you.”

“Y/N, Hoseok just did.”

“He—he did no—“

She let out a shout that had you slamming your head against the roof of the car, your eyes wide on her. “You are absolutely infuriating!” Her volume was much lower than her shout; it must have released some pent up energy within her chest because her shoulders were finally starting to relax. “And yes, yes I am pissed—not at you, at him. For now. I’m awful at holding grudges, you know that.”

“But he—“

“He did. Do you really think I’m as dumb as I look?” She frowned at you through the rearview mirror. “Don’t answer that.” With another ancient sigh bursting from the confines of her chest, she shook her head. “He chose you, Y/N. Give me five minutes and I’ll be over him—I go through guys like candy, you know that.”

You ducked your head, frowning at the seat. “No one chooses me over you. No one chooses me—hell, I know he didn’t choose me out of every other girl on this planet.” You whispered, trying to keep it all locked in. But, the ghost of Hoseok’s kiss lingered and it broke your heart to imagine that same passion given to another girl.

“There have been plenty that have chosen you—plenty that have looked at you instead of me. You just don’t notice. You know, despite all the shit I give you, you are not by my side only to make me look better; Y/N, you’re not horrible to look at. Actually, you’re quite cute--that was why I liked you when I first saw you.”

“You hated me.” You snorted, unable to hide your laughter.

Minji shrugged. “Same thing.”

“Who are you and what did you do with Minji?”

She smacked your arm, her eyes never leaving the road. “Look, I’m not going to say that I’m not hot shit and better than 99.9% of the people on this planet—I know I am. But, the one thing I fail at is making friends. For some reason, people think I’m conceded.” She laughed, her nails tapping on the wheel. “But you stayed my friend. Even if this friendship is built on a house of cards and is so fake it would make my mom’s boobs look natural, this means something to me. Don’t let my kindness go to waste. Say something nice to me too.” She lightly hit your thigh with the back of her hand, causing you to wipe your snot nose on your sleeve and give her a good, genuine smile.

“This friendship isn’t fake. Like, 13% of the time I actually consider you my friend.”

“Aww.” She held her chest in mock emotion. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“Same.”

You were both laughing now, in a moment that was so rare you were sure it would take three unicorns, two wishes on a shooting star and a whole field of four leaf clovers to bring another around. But that was fine, because you had this moment.

“You like him, don’t you?” She repeated.

“I—there are so many reasons—“

“That’s not what I asked you. I asked if you like Hoseok.”

You ducked your head, but your hair was pinned back so there was nothing to curtain your expression from Minji. “I do.”

“I’m not going to break a nail for you.”

You stared at the side of her face in confusion.

“I will use my mom’s money to hire a hitman however, and those are expensive. So please, let this shit work out.”

Reaching over the center console, you gave Minji the most awkward, yet genuine hug that either of you had.

“We need to go to the club tomorrow,” she growled, patting your arm in an attempt to reciprocate your hug and drive at the same time. “I need a man and I need a man pronto—I’m not going to lose to you.”

“But you didn’t—“

She let out another howl that echoed in the car. Only this one wasn’t out of frustration, more the sort of light annoyance that siblings had for each other. “Stop being so damn cute! Go back to being broody and depressing so people will feel bad for me and I can get laid tomorrow.”

You grinned at her. “So does this mean that you actually liked my sketches?”

“No.” She rolled her eyes. “I still don’t like them. But remember, I majored in dance, not art—since when have you ever taken my artistic criticisms seriously? Remember when I thought that Van Goat dude was actually just a brand of fancy cheese?”

“Van Gogh?”

She snorted. “Yeah, Y/N. You look stupid taking my words to heart—I flunked art history three times.”

“Four.”

“I slept with that professor to get me a D so I wouldn’t have to take it again.” She winked at you, your face frozen in a horror-stricken expression that did nothing to erase the unbidden mental images.

“Can I change that ‘not fake’ percentage to 12?”

“Nope.” She smiled. “Get ready to have your depressing ass worked hard tomorrow—I need a good man on my arm.”

~.~

Namjoon brushed your hair off your forehead and out of your eyes, groaning at the puffiness. “Please tell me that you were not crying over him.”

You glared at him, shoving your bag into his stomach and nearly through him just to put it behind the counter. It was too far of a walk towards the mural and you currently wanted to be anywhere but in the public eye—even if it was only the public of a small, busy coffee shop.

He watched you brush past him, watch you hide your things as if they were you—as if you wished to crawl underneath the space between the register and the storage bin for paper cups.

“Y/N.” His voice had you curling your lip at the ground, body struggling to stand.

“Fine.” You snapped at your backpack instead of at him, it wasn’t Namjoon’s fault after all. You were your own demise, always had been. “I was. And then I realized I did even stupider shit than cried over him—I cried over my fucking sketchbook which I kindly forgot in the hurry to get the hell out of his studio.” You burst up to your feet, the fight or flight instinct in you broken to the point that you felt like running into a wall. “So your mural is screwed too, and then I cried more over that because I’m…I’m—I—I’m a big cry baby I guess!” You threw your hands up into the air, incoherent words stumbling together on your tongue as you tried to reign in the tears once more; your tear ducts burned and you didn’t think you could take another bout of self-pity crying. “I don’t have anything to put in that giant hole on the wall and you were right, you were totally right, Joon. That’s what you want to hear, right? That I should have listened, should have stayed away?”

His arms were around you, pulling your face into his chest so his sweatshirt could snuff out the dampness of your face. “I didn’t want to be right; it’s not what I want to hear. I--" he sighed, “I wanted you to let me know what’s going on in that head of yours. You keep yourself so tightly locked up that sometimes I’m afraid that you’re keeping me out with the rest of the world.”

“Never. You know too much about me and the destruction cavity most doctors call my brain.” You grumbled through a mouthful of fabric.

He laughed, the vibrations warming the cold in your chest.

“Even if it was all a lie—even if he told a thousand other girls the same things—it meant something to me, Namjoon. I liked the version I saw, the one that seemed so honest. But it’s not true, right? None of it was true? I can’t…I went in knowing I can’t believe anything he says and I still—“

“It’s not your fault.”

You slowly peeled yourself from his grasp, wiping your snot nose on his sweatshirt as a parting gift. “I—I’m going to go clean up my face and come up with a plan b.”

“I’ll get your sketchbook back, Y/N.”

You started towards the “employees only” swinging door, frowning at the porthole window. “I don’t want it; I couldn’t focus on the other dancers anyways. It’s all him; it’s all Hoseok. He really is amazing, you know.”

“But so are you.”

The swinging doors fluttered shut behind you before he could finish his words.

~.~

As you approached the hallway that led out towards the counter and, consequently, into the main hub of the café, a certain voice stopped you from bursting through the employee doors. The part of you that had just put itself back together with cold water and glares into the bathroom mirror shattered to the ground. As if he could see you through solid matter, you pressed yourself flat against the wall and snuck closer—but not too close. No, childish fear had you keeping enough distance that there was no chance in hell he would see you, even if he got close enough to the porthole window.

Through the crack between the rubberized edge of the door and the wall, you watched Hoseok thumbing through something atop the counter. Namjoon partly obscured him and the object from your vision, his shoulders square and angry.

“I’m glad you had the decency to return it; I’ll give you at least that much.” Namjoon said like an overprotective father with a shotgun.

Hoseok seemed unfazed by this persona. “I’m not a thief.” He murmured. “She’s gotten even better. These sketches…they’re amazing.”

“I’m aware.” Namjoon’s knuckles tightened on the countertop as he tilted his clenched jaw into view. “Now what are you actually here for, Hoseok?”

Hoseok’s eyes never lifted from the pages of your sketchbook. “I really like her, hyung.”

“You like a lot of things, Hoseok. You like pretty things, shiny new people and girls who look in your general direction. You latch onto anyone who thinks you’re handsome because you don’t see it in yourself. And then, you leech them dry—you spin your web and play them like a fucking piano before leaving them strung up for the crows to pick at. You have currently ruined any chance of a real relationship—I highly doubt you know how to truly love something for what it is and not what it says, Hoseok.”

Hoseok listened to every word, screwing his eyes shut as he dipped his face into his hands, elbows on the countertop. “Ouch.”

“I’m not going to sugarcoat things for you when you pulled this shit with my little sister—blood or no blood, she’s as important to me as my family.”

“She’s the exception to every rule, every standard, everything.” Hoseok mumbled through his hands.

“No, she is the one rule, the one exception, the one line I told you not to cross and you crossed it.”

“No.” Hoseok growled. “You don’t—you don’t understand. She was the catalyst, the—agh.” His shoulders shook with his frustration, his voice cracking on a desperate plea. “Remember when I first visited your dorm room? Back when we were just starting to be friends—remember? You had that work on your wall, that thing that looked like a sketch but wasn’t?”

“The first lithograph Y/N made? Of course I remember, you tried to buy and trade for it with me the entire year until I finally took it home and out of your sight.”

Hoseok lifted his head, pointing to the wall—though his gaze was lost somewhere else in a distant memory. “Yes, that’s the one. I wanted it because I had seen it before—back when it was on display in the library. You know, Seokjin and I were friends since high school, and he’s always been more into art shit than I ever had. I only gave a rat’s ass about dancing, but when he dragged me and Yoongi with him to that conglomeration showing I—okay, so first off, most of them sucked; don’t believe a word Seokjin tells you.”

Namjoon sighed. “Are you going somewhere with this story? I do have things to do, a business to run, a dog to feed and walk before going to bed.”

“It’s noon, calm yourself.” Hoseok grunted. “I saw that work there—it was the only thing that I thought was worth something. The more I looked around, the more I kept circling back to it. I must have stared at that work for an hour, because Seokjin and Yoongi both left me there to go to dinner by themselves. I memorized every detail about that piece—the name, the title, the medium—fuck if I still even know what a lithograph is. It was just this small thing inside a tiny seedpod, darkness all around it. It couldn’t break the shell even if it wanted to—and I—I--“

“Again, where is this leading?”

“I’d always thought art like that could be done by anyone. All that crap in the show was all the same, could have been done by a million people or by one—but her piece made me believe that only some people can create true art; only some people can make things that actually mean something. You always said I’d shown interest in her without knowing her—that’s why. I wanted to meet her; I needed to meet her. So I went to the art building to find her.”

“I’m glad I’m just finding out about this now.” Namjoon sighed. “It doesn’t change my stance, but it’s somewhat comforting to know that there’s a shred of human kindness towards females in your heart.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And you found Soonmi instead, and it wasn’t until you saw the piece in my room that you realized—“

“Exactly.” Hoseok whispered.

“So you’re an asshole because you’re stupid.”

“Yes—no, but yes.” Hoseok laughed, but there was no humor to it. “If I had found her instead, if I hadn’t believed that—if—god why was I so stupid? If I had just let Soonmi go right then and there--“

“A lot could have changed, yes. And I will admit, as much as I think you don’t deserve her--" Namjoon’s glare silenced any hope in Hoseok’s eyes. “—you two do have some weird chemical connection that I can’t explain. However, you’ve made your choices and I’m not letting you be one of hers. I can’t trust you with her, Hoseok. How do I know you’re not lying to me now? How do I know that, when I turn around, you won’t be making eyes with the next girl that walks in here? Those tendencies, once formed, aren’t easy to break. I can’t let her give you her heart; it’s too precious for your hands.”

“What if I—“

“Hoseok.” The finality and anger in Namjoon’s voice sent a small shock of fear down your spine. “Enough. I am not going to watch her go through this with you. If you come near her—if you dare hurt her again—I swear that years and years of friendship won’t save you from my wrath.”

Hoseok nodded, pushing himself off the counter. “Just…just give this to her the next time you see her, okay?”

Namjoon grabbed the sketchbook, staring at Hoseok’s back as he left the coffee shop.

You, however, remained curled against the wall, your squat turning into more of a sit the longer your thighs burned. But, the physical pain wasn’t what you were focused on. Instead, your mind was still reeling, trying to comprehend the words you weren’t meant to hear.

What parts were lies? What parts were the truth? How did one believe someone who lies as easily as breathing? Did he truly mean those things he said?

How did one trust the boy who lied about there being wolves?

~.~

You leaned back from your work, nearly up to your elbows in paint as you chugged what was left in your beaten and almost flattened water bottle. It was done.

It was finally done.

The paint was still glistening, tacky but fresh, clinging to the wall with all its might so as not to smear and dribble down your depiction of Hoseok’s movements.

As stupid and strange as it was, the process of painting Hoseok oversized on a mural wall was incredibly therapeutic. Maybe because, when there was a brush in your hand, you could believe that you were painting the version of the boy you wanted to believe in. Maybe, when you were painting him on a wall before you, you could believe that this was the boy who didn’t lie and flirt with anything with two x chromosomes—the boy who was handsome and talented, the boy who only saw you. It was enough for you to be able to ease the sickness in your gut and disassociate the Hoseok in your reality to the one that you fell for in your head.

The real one, the one that lied and told a million girls a million things to get in their pants, you could believe that you had not fallen for that one.

Until you turned and smacked directly into a familiar, wired chest with your paint sodden hands. Once again, Hoseok found himself the victim of a cruel and unsuspected attack by paint.

You stared up at him, fingers splayed, eyes wide and body shell-shocked.

And just like that, all the things you made yourself believe—the bullshit self therapy washed down the tubes. The lump was back in your throat tenfold, threatening to choke you as his warm gaze met with yours.

How many?

How many others were looked at like this? How many women were on his cell? How many were waiting for texts? A ring? A call? A message? How many had pictures of him as their backgrounds, his stare warm and loving and lying?

“Is that supposed to be me?” He murmured, his gaze never leaving you.

You, however, looked anywhere but him—only rewarding his words with a short nod.

“He looks better than me. Do I really look like that? Do you really think I look like that?” He felt along his jaw, his lips and his brows as if the feeling from his fingers could translate to the image before him.

“I think so. At least…at least when you dance you do. But don’t flatter yourself too much; you look best when you’re dancing.”

“Part of me wished you would use that half-assed sketch of Minji with her finger up her nose.”

You snorted, muffling your laughter through your fingers; you could feel paint cling to your face. Once you gathered your composure, you straightened your shoulders as if that could do the same to your resolve. “Why’re you here, Hoseok?”

“I—“

“I heard your talk with Namjoon. I was—I was here. If you think that I’m going to believe what you said just because you said them then you—“

“I didn’t expect you to. I figured you were in the building, but I didn’t know you would hear what I said.” The sincerity in his voice shut you up, the way his eyes softened and darkened in emotions that you could feel but couldn’t name tore your vocal chords from your throat. “I didn’t say them with the hope that you would believe them—I am a person who does a lot of things untruthfully; I am a person that you probably will never trust. But I thought I should give it a chance despite it.” His gaze flit back towards you. “I am willing to throw everything I have on the railroad tracks for the artist that made ‘the one that didn’t bloom.’ A long time ago, I thought that, if I met the person who made that work, maybe I would understand why I felt like I couldn’t blossom. But I screwed that up, and so now, I’ll do anything to give that belief a second chance.”

“Well, better hope those tracks are out of service, because guess what, Hoseok? That artist would have and is going to tell you that you can’t blossom because you are already a full-fledged flower.” You brushed past him, stuffing your nearest supplies into your backpack in the hopes that you could escape quickly and come back later when he was gone.

If he was gone.

“So,” you murmured, angrily tugging at your zipper, “mystery solved.”

Before you could start towards the door, Hoseok’s hand was on your wrist, keeping you bolted to your spot.

“Why do you keep running from me? Do you think that I’m not going to chase you? Do you think that, after all this time, after everything I’ve told you and shown you, I’m just going to stand here and watch you leave?”

It was the five stages of grief in a fucked up order when it came to Jung Hoseok. Somehow, anger came after depression, after bargaining and denial.

“Yes!” You whirled around to face him properly. “That is exactly what you are going to do. I can’t stay here, I can’t stay like this—I can’t stand here and pretend like whatever the hell this--" You gestured angrily between the two of you, but you were sure it looked less threatening and more like a chicken. “—isn’t something more. I can’t sit here and know that there are lines of people in your texts just waiting for you to call them up and invite them into your bed. Hoseok, this may come as a surprise to you—why, I don’t know, maybe you’re blind or something—but, guys don’t like me. I’m not too fond of them either; probably, because of this—probably because there’s always better options out there in the world. A million fish in the sea, or some bullshit analogy like it. And you, the man with gold in his bones and a smile like the fucking sun, yeah, you’ll find the best of the best. And it’s not me. It is never me!”

However, Hoseok’s grip on your wrist tightened at the sight of the gloss forming through your lashes. He was fishing his phone out of his back pocket like a man possessed, his gaze rooted to yours. “This phone is what you’re worried about? The people on here? What if I text them? What if I call every girl on this phone with you standing right here? What if I send them pictures of you, tell them to fuck off? What if I block their numbers, delete their contacts? What if I—“

“You’re not listening!”

Hoseok growled, his hand shaking on yours. You were thankful it was 6pm and no one fucking got coffee at 6pm except for college students and tired business men—none of which were in the building. Because damn, the two of you were causing a scene.

“And you’re not listening to me! There is no one better, Y/N! There is not a single person out there that is better than you.”

You pressed your lips into a line, trying once more to feebly pull your grip from his. “You don’t get it! You just don’t understand it at all! I don’t know what to believe in anymore, Hoseok. I don’t know which guy you are—are you the one that’ll cheat on his girlfriend and sleep with an entire campus? Are you the guy that’ll tell this to every girl he sees? Or is it the one that says he likes my artwork—is it the one that says he likes me and only me?”

“That one.” He croaked out. “What can I do to prove to you that I am the second guy? What can I possibly do to show you that I am the guy that would do anything just to see you smile? What can I do to show you that I’ve been stupidly in love with a girl I hadn’t met until the beginning of this year? What can I do to show you that it’s you, Y/N, it’s always been you and it will always be you? I’ll put my neck on a guillotine if it means you’ll let me fight to make this something. I’ve never wanted anything between anyone to be something as much as I’ve wanted this. I’ve never wanted someone as much as I’ve wanted to see you—it scares me to think that if you’re not here you’re gone and I’ll never see you again.”

You scoffed at the drama of it all, finally pulling your grasp from his. “There is nothing, Hoseok. There’s nothing you can do. Short of destroying your phone there’s absolutely nothing you can—“

You were cut off by the glint of light as the fragile touch screen of Hoseok’s phone flashed once in the lights on its deathly plummet to the ground, whipped from his hand. The second the plastic resounded against the tile with an awful thud, Hoseok’s heel was slamming down on top of it hard enough to pop off the back, to shatter the glass of the screen and destroy the camera. The S.I.M card went flying, crunching under his boot.

“Hoseok!” You screeched, shrill and piercing. “What the fuck are you doing?! I wasn’t serious—omigod!” Now it was you holding onto him, shoving and pulling him back away from the bits of his destroyed phone as if you still had hopes of saving him from taking a huge hit to his wallet. You dropped to the ground, flicking the pieces around as if that would make them come back together. “Did you save anything?” You stared up at him from the floor. “Your pictures? Contacts? What if your mom’s phone number was on there? Do you know her number by heart? Omigod, Hoseok! Are you crazy?”

He watched you with amusement glittering in his eyes until laughter finally fizzled down and burst from his chest. “Probably.”

You however, were still absolutely lost. “This…I didn’t…I wasn’t serious. How are you so nonchalant about this?”

Hoseok shrugged, dropping down to squat next to you and meet your gaze eye to eye. “If it gives me a fighting chance, then nothing else matters.”

You brushed your hair back off your face, slicking back your wild baby hairs. “Namjoon is so going to kill you.”

“Well… I don’t have a phone now, so it’ll be difficult for him to contact me and hunt my ass down.” But he was laughing despite the impending death threats looming in the distance.

“So really?” It was a question that made no sense to anyone, but Hoseok seemed to understand because he nodded.

“Really.”

“I like you, Hoseok. I really, really like you.”

He grinned, one eyebrow raised. “But…?”

“You’re batshit insane.” You held up the broken bits to his line of sight with a snort, shaking your head. “I…I can’t trust you, I hope you know that. But I guess I’m into insane too, since I’m falling for it—for you. “

His grin only seemed to grow, somehow bringing in more sunlight into the shop even though it was getting late and dark. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust. Maybe not today or tomorrow or a year from now. But someday. And, hey, that’s what I like most about you.” He murmured, helping you pick up the pieces to his phone--if he was going to try and make it up to Namjoon for breaking his only rule, then he was going to have to start with a clean coffee shop. “You have an insanity kink.”

“Ah, I’ve decided I’m going to download tinder and go on a date with someone else instead. After all, one of us still has a phone.” You pushed up to your feet quickly, throwing away the bits of his destroyed cell while evading his flailing grasp.

“Hey!”

Before you could reach the door, he caught you, spinning you so you were facing him, your back pressed against the wall; butterflies ignited into fireworks in your chest. When you looked up at him and smiled, Hoseok’s lips were on yours instantaneously. This time, you let him.

This time, your smile grew into his.

You reached up to wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer and, when you closed your eyes, you saw his wolves.

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