#i think this may be the funniest one i’ve made yet

[dduane]

Hi! I really like Scrappy, and I heard you've worked with some TV writers for Scooby-Doo?

I'd like to ask you some questions, but before I do I wanna say some things:

In fact, I looked up the writer’s guild stats and you actually wrote some of the episodes for the original show he was on, as well as some shorts!  “Neon Phantom of the Roller Disco” and “When You Wish Upon a Star Creature” are both really solid episodes and a lot of people really enjoy the Star Creature’s futuristic design! Of the shorts episodes you did I think "A Bungle in The Jungle" and "A Close Encounter of the Scooby Kind" and "Surprised Spies" the funniest. I could go on! But then I would never finish this ask ^^;

And I gotta tell you this. I may have been born decades after those episodes aired, but I’ve seen every single one-the first season, the 99 shorts, the 13 ghosts, the New Scooby Doo Mysteries, the DTV trio, all of ‘em, and I absolutely adored them, thank you so much for helping with that. 

When Fred and Velma and Daphne disappeared, after 1979, did Scrappy have something to do with it? I know Duane Poole said in an interview that Scrappy was easier to focus on, and that Fred and Velma, and Daphne had a hard time competing with his energy or something, but the executives wouldn’t have thrown all their eggs into one basket with the pup after one season, would they? I have to know. Even if it turns out that’s what happened, I know that it’s not really Scrappy’s fault either way, I’m just curious.

I've heard from Mr. Poole's interview that when you were figuring out Scrappy and stuff you guys just gathered around and brainstormed with Joe Barbera. Did you or anyone else that you know of look to past ideas for inspiration?

What was the favorite episode you wrote?

I also heard from Mark Evanier’s account that Scrappy was originally feistier but some scripts were altered. How were the scripts changed before and after that alteration?

Also, in the nineties, why did Scrappy go away? I mean, I know some people didn't like him, but it was more just "he had his time" not the kinda hate you saw in the early 2000s right?

This is un-Scrappy related. Did you guys do your own blocking, did anyone at HB ever split the writing and blocking between multiple people? Just curious.

Also, I know that the original Scrappy series gets some hate, but I am not one of them and there are so many people who love the work you did and what Scrappy-Doo means to them. You guys did an awesome job with the series and there are tons of fans who still remember and cherish the work that you and the others did. Don’t let the haters get you down. Thank you SO SO SO SO MUCH!

First of all, thanks very much for your kind words! The work I did on Scooby-Doo And Scrappy Too! was my very first animation work, and besides being a shed-load of fun, I learned an incredible amount about screenwriting in general, and animation writing in particular, from Tom Swale and Duane Poole (God rest them both). They were fabulous teachers, patient and smart—a pleasure to work with, and (in between work times) extremely funny guys whose senses of humor meshed perfectly with mine.

About Fred, Velma, and Daphne disappearing post-1979: unfortunately I wouldn't be in any position to know whether Scrappy had anything to do with that. I'd very much have been the newest and most junior writer in the room (and we're talking about a time when there weren't even "rooms" as we think of them now: they hadn't been invented yet). But though their job title was "story editor", in terms of the work they were doing, Tom and Duane were what we would now think of as showrunners... and those deliberations and/or decisions wouldn't by any stretch of the imagination have included me. :)

It's interesting to hear what Duane had to say about the disappearance. But I feel pretty sure that a decision involving so many characters would not have been made solely at Tom's and Duane's level. Some kind of approval or signing-off would've had to happen at the highest executive levels at H-B... or at least that's my take on it.

As for brainstorming with Joe Barbera: it seems to me quite likely that that was just how things happened. Hanna-Barbera at that point was a surprisingly comfortable, casual kind of place—relatively friendly to newcomers, and with a sense of under-the-surface goofiness that tended to surface without warning. The founders, in particular, had a reputation for being very hands-on and accessible. I kind of regret that those brainstorming sessions were before my time.

Re: favorite episodes: you'll have gathered that I did a fair amount of writing for Tom and Duane over the years (there's more detail on my IMDb page, which fills in some gaps but still isn't complete...), so frankly it's hard to pick a favorite. But the first one I tend to think of is my very first one, "The Hairy Scare of the Devil-Bear". ...And honestly, one of the funniest things about the scriptwriting process on these was the business of crafting outlandish titles: the goofier, the better. Tom and Duane were past masters at this... and no one will ever get me to discuss the really dirty ones that were floated during story conferences. ...Anyway, I've always been a bit of a Tuckerizer, and in that first episode—though it wasn't anywhere near as polished as later episodes would be—I had so much fun sneaking in the very first of what would become any number of friends' names. A simple pleasure, perhaps. But hey, I'm a cheap date. :)

Re: Mark Evanier's comments about earlier Scrappy scripts: Mark had been working at H-B for a good while by the time I got there, and I'd consider his opinions important. But I've got no useful data on how scripts might have been changed before I got there. Sorry I can't be of more help on this.

As to why Scrappy might have gone away in the 90s….? I don't really have any useful data on that either. By that time, I was in the early stages of being married to @petermorwood and living in Europe, and was out of the loop on things that were going on at Hanna-Barbera.

Finally, as regards blocking: when one was writing animation in the 80s, the received wisdom was that one should write almost entirely in "master shots"—so that one didn't call specific angles in the screenplay unless they were extremely important. The idea being "Don't direct in the script. Let the director have something to do." And blocking would certainly have been included in the concept of what the director was supposed to be doing. ...But at the same time, story editors would naturally have seen the storyboards that were produced in-house, and would have had input into angles and camera movement at that stage… So, in that way anyway, blocking and writing were certainly split.

Meanwhile, thanks again for the nice words about what we were doing! It was very enjoyable work, and the continuing popularity of these shows makes it more enjoyable, even now. :)

#Scrappy-Doo

[archivalofsins]

The Clock Over Orquesta Milgram crossover is interesting.

We get to see the prisoners enjoy what seem to be their off-day hobbies or interests together. Mahiru, Yuno, and Haruka start off at an amusement park, a place they've all shown interest in for different reasons throughout Milgram's canon.

One of Haruka's favorite foods is cotton candy, and the memory that's stuck with him the most is one of fireworks. Two things heavily associated with amusement parks.

Q.20 What’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever bought for yourself?

Haruka: Cotton candy.

Yuno: I can’t really remember. Maybe a plush toy?

Yuno states a simple date at a park would be nice in her first trial written interrogation.

Q.06 What’s your ideal date?

Haruka: I don’t know.

Yuno: Actually, just going to a park or something might be nice.

Mahiru has always been heavily interested in romance. Be it novels, manga, or dramas, all these things at some point or another can feature amusement park dates. Experiencing such a romantic setting surely make her heart skip a beat. Something she admits is happiness to her.

Q.16 How would you define happiness?

Shidou: The promise of an unchanging tomorrow.

Mahiru: When your heart skips a beat.

Kazui and Amane are asked if they went to an amusement park then what ride would they get on during trial one. Kazui says the merry-go-round and Amane bluntly stated she's not allowed to go there. Since that was just a hypothetical, it really didn't tell us much about how Kazui feels towards them or if it'd be a place he'd choose to be during his off time.

But the second part tackles what Kazui does in his free time well. He's a gym guy through and through. The funniest thing about this is when I told Star a while back, "Man, if Kotoko just went to go to a gym, then she probably wouldn't have ever killed anyone." This thought made seeing how she reacts to the gym in the crossover like a kid who's just been taken to a playground for the first time in their life very funny to me. Kotoko, please get hobbies.

Contrary to her, Kazui is in his element and has even begun instructing other people on the best ways to exercise. This shouldn't surprise anyone since Kazui did go to and graduate from a sports college.

20/06/07

Amane: Kazui-san, I’ve noticed that you’re the oldest among us here, so…… I’ll get straight to the point. Are you smart?

Kazui: Hm? Haha, asking yet another question that’s hard to answer. I mean, I did graduate from university, so I’d say I’m reasonably…… ah, but it was just a sports university so maybe not…… I’m not especially confident. Why are you asking? What’ve you got there…… textbooks?

Amane: Yes, I made a request to the guard. So, I was given a selection of study materials. It’s somewhat of a hobby of mine. If you were good at studying, I was considering asking if you could teach me some things.

Kazui: *sigh*, geez, back when I was your age, I didn’t want to study at all…… If that’s what you want, then your best bet is probably to ask Shidou-kun or Yuzuriha-chan. They both look like they took their studies seriously.

Kotoko not being well-informed about gyms makes sense as well. Taking into consideration that she was studying law and mostly doing investigative work on crime before being placed in Milgram. Her physical fitness acumen might be limited to self-study that primarily focused on self-defense or offensive skills. This could be why she's so comfortable with getting the jump on people or fighting those who have already been restrained. Surprise attacks are usually implemented when someone knows they may not be capable of successfully attacking someone head-on. Then, as we with Mikoto during the intermission, the downside of these sort of attacks are they can only work once.

If she doesn't finish off the person immediately, they'll be more on guard or wary of her in the future.

After taking all this into consideration it's really fun to think about what we'll see the prisoners who haven't appeared yet doing and who they'll be with. Futa, Muu, Shidou, Amane and Mikoto all haven't shown up yet. We know that Futa enjoys video games and watching sports. Mikoto enjoys eating pretty expensive food and so does Muu.

Amane enjoys studying, but her mv has elements related to game shows within it. Plus, there are educational games as well. This means she and Futa could end up in the same area with Shidou. Though this is a very good time to find out exactly what Shidou enjoys to do and I think it would be funny to see Futa, Muu, and Amane stuck together while Mikoto is stuck with Shidou someone he finds it difficult to speak to.

However, if they stick to group of three then pair of two pattern chances are it will be Futa, Shidou, Amane then Mikoto and Muu. Though I don't know how long the crossover is meant to run so that's just speculation it could be a three trial thing like Milgram, and they'll all appear together. Oh, the other funny thing was seeing Yuno perfectly illustrate the milgram voting system in response to the first judgment.

Like, oh forgiven, well that doesn't matter. I'll do it anyhow like that sign is gonna stop me. Just to then go I think you're the ones not getting it. Haruka enjoys this sort of thing. This was a great illustration of a long-standing but understated point of Milgram. While the verdicts change the atmosphere, they won't really force the prisoners themselves to change or stop them from doing anything.

#milgram #clock over orquesta x milgram

[bumblingest-bee]

bee’s thoughts on the sweeney todd revival!!

idk if recordings just didn’t do him justice or if he’s improved as his run has gone on, but i did truly enjoy aaron as sweeney. to be clear he’s still not a baritone but he didn’t struggle with the range as much as i’d feared. unfortunately but not unexpectedly he didn’t have that deep resonance that the role should have, yet at the same time he almost made up for it with the sheer intensity of his acting. (almost.) i REALLY enjoyed that he did a proper cockney accent - it was surprisingly good and fit his take on the character very well. he was genuinely frightening and impressively intense at times (his “how about a shave?” section in epiphany was a highlight for me) but at other times he was. aaron tveit. overall while still i wish they’d cast a proper baritone on the role, aaron was wonderful in his own way and im very very glad i saw him. the fact he was aaron tveit in a very tight shirt may or may not have helped.

guys. folks. sutton was FUCKING INCREDIBLE. i know, i am just as shocked as you, but she was born to play mrs. lovett. i’ve never laughed so hard at worst pies in my life. i can’t say enough good things about her which is insane bc i’ve been joking about her casting since the beginning. vocally, she knew exactly when to turn on the deranged lansbury style belt and when to sing it straight. i won’t lie her accent was much better than annaleigh’s (I’M SO SORRY). acting-wise, she was just hysterically funny; over-the-top without being over-the-top, if that makes any sense at all. just a really truly delightful take on the role.

JOE LOCKE. HOLY MOTHER OF FUCK. i came in knowing nothing about him but thinking he was stunt casting and i was SO wrong. he was, bar none, THE best toby i have ever heard. he made the role sound completely effortless with a gorgeous classical tenor that turned into a high belt so powerful it made the couple in front of me nearly leap from their seats in amazement.

jamie jackson’s deeply creepy judge and john rapson’s slimy, flamboyant beadle made the perfect dickensian villain duo. they were THE essential ingredient to the atmosphere of the show, which they just about stole.

maria bilbao was a wonderfully unnerving, constantly in anxious motion, adorably sweet johanna. she and daniel yearwood (who was lovable and vocally gorgeous as anthony) had great chemistry. ruthie ann miles was, of course, perfect as the beggar woman, heart-wrenching and unsettling and probably the best acting performance out of the whole cast.

the entire ensemble was brilliant - of course i’ve got to give a special mention to pirelli because that contest was the funniest one i’ve ever seen. also shoutout to hennessy winkler who was on as jonas fogg!

the sets were great, though at times i wished there was a bit more of them instead of being minimalist for the sake of it. the choreography was used to great, unnerving effect at times (that stumbling in the opening ballad!) though sometimes i wished they’d just stay still for god’s sake. two things that stood out to me: the blood effects were very effective, and the sound design in the bakehouse was so creepy.

for a 26-piece orchestra you’d think they’d make it a bit louder. compared to other big orchestra shows i’ve seen the instruments felt a bit tinny and canned at times, despite the fact that they really turned it up for some songs, proving that they could!! in any case i was just very very glad to hear that gorgeous full score at any volume.

overall it was a brilliant experience - though im not sure how much of that is due to just how fucking good the material is no matter what you do with it. it wasn’t perfect, but i laughed so hard i cried (and just plain cried) and got goosebumps about every five minutes. so happy i got to attend the tale ❤️🥧❤️

#bee posts nonsense #sweeney todd #theatre #long post

[good-beanswrites]

We’re so far from the end of Milgram and yet. I am thinking about finale fix-it fics. because I already know Yamanaka isn’t going to shy away from killing characters and I'm pre-sad about it. I’ve expressed some other nice options here and here, but have another! Jailbreak >:3

(Just random silly thoughts I’ve been rotating in my head, don't take it too seriously) 

This is assuming Milgram is in a physical location with mostly realistic elements. (It’s a well-funded facility, but no magic or anything besides whatever’s going on with jackalope and the no violence ban.)

Trial three is coming to an end. Es knows it will end in death, but they know it'd be going against their duty to declare everyone innocent.

A mistake is made on the outside, and a chance opportunity arises: a temporary exit appears in the prison in Es’ room. 

They notice it at night, and make the split second decision to tell the others. They race to the cells, gathering everyone one and telling them to get out immediately. 

Most of them go willingly, though a few (Yuno, Fuuta, Kotoko) are suspicious of Es’ urgency. They manage to convince them that it’s not some twisted lie – Es knows how this will end and wants to give them a chance. 

As everyone’s filing out, it becomes clear Es isn’t going to step through. They say they can’t go – even though they’re taking steps to save the others, their duty remains to Milgram. They’ll stay and face whatever consequences arise as warden. 

Mikoto is like “fuck that shit, you’re just as much as a prisoner as us and you’re coming,” to the others’ agreement. “If they’re gonna punish you for helping us than we should make it look like it was all on us,” and he slings Es over his shoulder. They all take off into the unknown facility. 

The real fun part of the fic would be when they inevitable make it past guards/scientists, climb into a military-grade vehicle, and take off with authorities in hot pursuit. (I’m still deciding who’d be funniest as driver, though I’m leaning towards Kazui doing it because he feels responsible as oldest) Cue some classic comedy-drama bickering as they screech around the complex under fire. Fuuta trying to backseat drive. Mahiru in delirious giggles that she’s helping with a jailbreak, can you believe it? Her! Shidou shielding Amane as the vehicle bumps around/takes damage. Muu pointing out they’ve been going in circles. It’s revealed the driver doesn’t have their license. Es complaining that they shouldn’t be here but knowing it’s too late to get out. There’s much screaming and celebrating and panicking and tires squealing. 

One epic car chase later, they emerge in the surrounding woods, alone. They start making plans. I’m not sure who has the most geographical knowledge, but someone is able to piece together generally where they are. Mikoto knows a good deal about getting away with a crime, and starts walking them through how they’ll need to ditch this vehicle and where to hide for the time being. Kotoko has some connections, she can find out if Milgram is associated with the government or if they should go to the authorities about them. Muu’s parents are rich and from France, she’ll have them get everyone out of the country until things are figured out. 

They plan on reaching out to their families to let them know they’re alright. After some awkward silence from Es, Fuuta starts listing all the ways you can find someone online. He gets a bit embarrassed talking about the techniques (seeing as that’s how he ended up a killer,) but Es seems grateful for the help finding out who they are and if they have any family looking for them. 

As they drive, someone points out that these plans aren’t perfect. Milgram may be better equipped or more widespread than they know. There’s a high chance they’ll still be caught and potentially killed to keep quiet about the whole experiment. 

Shidou starts saying that a doctor’s job is to extend life so people can live as long and happy as possible, even when they know it won’t last. He points out that even if this isn’t a permanent escape, the extension of their lives and their happiness is still something meaningful. After all, if they’d just stayed in the prison to be executed, they would never have gotten this one last chance to see the sun.

Then they all watch the sun rise and it’s beautiful !!!!! The end

#milgram #i think everything is leading up to character executions #and i think it will be stellar writing to do that and ill be really satisfied with the ending #however. see also: i will be sad #and i have been endlessly entertained by imagining these 11 disasters crammed in a car having no experience breaking out of a prison #but making it out and being okay!!!! #fanfic #maybe? its not an actual fic but you know #i wont write any fix its until it actually ends because i want canon details about the actual prison too badly lmao

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 46

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ word count: 13.5k ➻ rating: M ➻ warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

✧✧✧ act six ➻ part five

​ ​ ​ ​

The black water at your feet is deeper than usual tonight. Less of a shallow lake and moreso a wide hole with a gaping maw that threatens to swallow you should you slip any further into its embrace. You keep yourself sequestered on the sand with knees tucked to your chest and chin resting softly between them. It’s been a bit lonely as well; Wooyoung hasn’t come to join you yet and Daichi has spared you of any further lectures for the time being. Thankfully, the former comes to spare you further solitude before the night begins to drag into something more depressing.

“Did you have a hard time falling asleep?” You blurt the inquiry without looking back over your shoulder, fully confident that the person approaching across the sand is Wooyoung. The hum you receive in response confirms that thought, then his body comes into view in your peripherals moments later. He sinks down to the sand beside you, mimicking your posture almost like a mirror with the way he props his chin on the top of one of his knees.

“A bit,” he says through a yawn, “but you made it easier.”

A fragment of silence follows, one that you leave to hang for a few seconds.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner? About… our past?”

Wooyoung’s initial knee-jerk reaction is to laugh loud and clear to the night sky hanging over your heads. When he pulls his focus back down, he folds his legs down to pull his feet under his knees and sits cross-legged.

“Would you ever have believed me? Someone you barely knew at the time, or at least didn’t recall knowing? If I were someone strong and confident… I think I would have told you the moment I found you in the cargo bay. Yeosang wanted to say something sooner but I told him not to. The timing never felt right, then I guess I got carried away with trying to keep you from knowing. It wasn’t something I did to spite you, I think part of me just wanted to see how much I could get away with. Which makes me sound like a bit of a dickhead.” It’s your turn to hum now, lips pursed mostly because you aren’t sure how to respond to him. Wooyoung shifts his focus as well and picks at some of the rocks near the waterline. “By now, you surely know that even though you’re a Siren, you aren’t quite like others. Not like Seonghwa, that is,” he says in a faint voice. You don’t press him to speak louder but his words are nearly lost of you with the rustling of wind through the trees behind you. “Like me, you have something more unique to your abilities.”

“I’ve gathered as much, yes. That I’m apparently able to put my hand through someone’s chest and rip their heart out if I so desire.”

“And I’m the Siren Iboun who can kill Sirens in the Dreamscape.” Wooyoung barks out a laugh as though he’s told the funniest joke imaginable. “Seonghwa doesn’t have something like that himself, no special ability.”

“Do you know why that’s the case?” When you twist to look at Wooyoung, he doesn’t look back although you aren’t sure you want to be having this conversation face to face in any case. There’s a lingering sense of distaste in the back of your mouth that won’t go away. Instead, your companion offers a hesitant series of nods.

“The two of us… we grew up on Celeste, unlike Seonghwa. Around the time we were growing up there, it was towards the end of the Siren race’s stay there. Many had already left the planet in years past, for centuries even, which allowed for cases like Seonghwa to manifest. Just like any other race, Sirens spread their seed across the universe, much like Berserkers to be honest — they also started out rather sequestered to one planet too, even if that’s ancient history now.”

“Did being born on Celeste mean that the Sirens there received different abilities?”

Wooyoung shakes his head, but this time it’s accompanied by a sharp grimace that is impossible to miss.

“We were part of a group of children used by a defunct sect of the main church… an old, defective sector that had broken off a long time in the past and taken their teachings with them. Every time a Ritual Year would approach, that sect would resurface enough to begin their research and experiments again. And of course, it was easiest to work on children because they weren’t matured or aged in the teachings of any of the churches. There were thirty children to start, all chosen from birth and offered by their families for the tests, yet each year, more and more children died. By the time the Ritual Year came along, there were only seven children left, and among them, both of us remained. Those children completed their stages of the experiments, and each one… it isn’t something I remember well because I was young at the time too. A lot of this is resurfaced stuff that Daichi explained to me. What I do know is that those experiments are what resulted in the heightened abilities we experience, along with those other five children who succeeded in surviving. It wasn’t something given at birth, not a gift from the gods — it was a harsh result of cruel and repeated testing and experimentation that kills dozens of children.

“Except, despite us successfully making it through that ordeal, we were still meant to die in the ritual, as a sacrifice to the gods. The sect — cult, really — was simply going to cut losses, take the other five successes, and escape the planet without the two of us. And while they succeeded in doing that, leaving meant that they opened the belt around the planet that protected it, and they opened it just enough for a passing slaver fleet to come through. It could all be boiled down to shitty and unfortunate timing, or a stroke of blind luck, maybe even fate intervening. The slavers ransacked the largest city, the one where the ritual was supposed to take place, and both of us and our families were present since we were being prepared for our deaths. Our families were slaughtered, butchered like faulty livestock that didn’t earn their keep, while every child those monsters could get their hands on was taken to be a slave. That’s how we got off-planet, out of the church, and in turn, to Eros where we were sold to the Kang family.”

The information settles heavily on your shoulders to the point where you can’t find it in you to respond for a while, keeping your chin rested atop your knees as you watch the wind cause ripples over the water.

“That makes things make much more sense,” you say at last when Wooyoung starts to fidget beside you.

“I didn’t want to die back then,” he adds quietly, “I didn’t want either of us to die. The feeling of being abandoned by both the broken sect and the main church was unbearable. To be set aside for a higher purpose not once, not twice, but three times. And tossed out each time. Chosen for the ritual, made a dyad, then became successful experiments. All that burden placed on children’s backs. Hell, we were fucking babies when they marked us to die, and barely able to think for ourselves when we were put through those experiments. I guess it’s good to not have to remember much of what we must have suffered. But that feeling… the feeling of being thrown aside lingers as much as I want to be rid of it. And I think that rage caused a lot of irreversible damage in me. Not necessarily what they did to us in those experiments, but how my brain reacted to it and clung to unfathomable rage to cope with that feeling of rejection.”

This time when Wooyoung pauses, he doesn’t start speaking again immediately. You have enough sense to not push him too hard, even if the lull in talking eats away at the edges of your nerves. Again, the wind picks up and drags across the surrounding forests as though it wishes to join the conversation.

“That anger made me cruel and awful, uncontrollable and volatile to insane degrees because I simply wanted to be something worthwhile. For such a long time, it wasn’t even about being human. I didn’t need to be human, I couldn’t have cared less about that — even if I had to be a tool or a weapon, I was so happy to be used for that purpose. Yeosang apologizes for what his family did b-but being a slave kept me alive as much as it rotted every fiber of my being inside and out. The person I was back then could barely be called a person, more of a thing that was full of rage and hatred ready to be unleashed on my master’s enemies. Subconsciously, I wonder if I wanted to hide our past from you because I feel so much shame looking back at who I was then. I was far from kind to you in every way imaginable.”

“Even so, I wish I had chosen to stay with you in that place,” you murmur as you tilt your chin towards him. Again, he scoffs out a laugh, then runs a hand through his hair before gripping it tight between his fingers.

“That was never an option for you. You were given a cruel choice — die in the palace or be banished elsewhere, somewhere they could take all your memories of your time as a slave to the crown away.” Wooyoung brings his other hand to his head and proceeds to bury his face in his palms like he wants to hide from you. “Though it was unfair, I hated you for your choice. I thought that dying would have been the better option because then at least you would have been there. And… and… for several nights after you told me what you had decided, I could see myself weighing your life in my hands like that was my right. If I killed you myself, in the Dreamscape, then you would have been with me forever! I hate to admit that that was even a thought that crossed my mind, let alone something I considered so heavily at the time, but it was simply where I was at that time. Another extension of the rage I harbored.”

The admission is a tough one to swallow for certain, a pill that goes down rough and settles uncomfortably in your gut, but with it comes a steady level of understanding. Perhaps it helps that you don’t intend to leave the crew anytime soon, so the mild threat that hangs in what he said isn’t strong. Or even the fact that it was something tucked away in the past and not the present.

“Does that have anything to do with you still wearing your collar?” It’s not any of your business, not really at the end of the day, but it doesn’t stop you from posing the question with the hope that he might answer. Instead, you get a glance from the man that’s accompanied by a grin that is nothing but melancholic to look at.

“I’ll tell you more about it one day, I promise,” he says, tone suddenly quiet compared to how lively it was not too long ago. “Just not now if that’s alright.”

“One day,” you echo. If it sounds any bit exasperated, Wooyoung offers no comment on that in favor of flashing his enclosed fist with just his pinky finger extended in your direction. You nearly laugh at the childlike motion in what he’s implying but mirror his gesture nonetheless. When your pinky locks around his, he doesn’t fight a genuine grin this time.

“You can hold me to that promise.”

“Did I wear one as well? Back then, in the palace?”

“Of course, yeah, you just had yours removed when you were sent away. All part of protocol, I’m sure.” Your hands fall away from each other. You don’t speak again until you’ve redirected your attention to the water, bringing your forearms back up to rest atop your knees.

“It’s more difficult than I imagined it would be, to be honest. Trying to play catch-up on all these memories that ought to be mine and in my head. But instead, I’m left knowing less than anyone else.”

Wooyoung hums before scooting along the sand until his hip knocks against yours with a rather substantial amount of force. You sway but manage to keep from flinching when he brings a hand up to pat the back of your head gently, the same hand moving down to settle on your further shoulder seconds later, and the sharp point of his chin digs into your skin as he rests it on your other one.

“We have time. I can be patient this time.” His breath is hot along your collarbone as he speaks. “Things may not be guaranteed but I trust Captain to carry us through whatever comes our way. Not just now, but for a long time.” You can’t help but wonder how much of that is blind faith placed in a dishonest man, one with skewed morals and shrouded intentions. It’s such a common thread among these men that you have to find some validity in it, of course — every member of this crew you’ve come to know has the same unwavering devotion to the man they call their captain, to the point where you’re the odd one out for not falling to his whims with the same kind of ease. You aren’t immune though; that much is obvious based on this odd fixation that your subconsciousness has with the man. And you want so desperately, so badly, to crawl inside yourself and seed that bit of you out for good.

Whatever it is that keeps you obsessed with that man — your captain, an unjust pirate, and the infamous Scourge — has a hold stronger than you thought possible. If there’s some innate need to satiate a defiled curiosity, you would sooner fall into line like a good little soldier before letting him frame your head with those knives. He asked trust and willingness from you, but you never promised blind faith in return. In the end, though, is there really much difference between that and the borderline obsession you feel yourself sinking into?

The thought leaves you with an itch under your skin that you can’t reach, and the discomfort it brings makes you wish that you hadn’t fallen into that line of thought to begin with.

Your quick diversion to change topics and disrupt the thoughts is a slip of the tongue that you regret moments later.

“Yeosang and I — we had—”

“I know, Y/n.” Despite interrupting you, Wooyoung provides some relief as he laughs and tucks his body closer to yours. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to truly. I won’t ask for details and I won’t treat you differently because of it. Him on the other hand? I’ll give him a hard time, yeah. But that’s just us.”

“…how did you know?”

“Do you think I don’t know what sex smells like, Y/n? Have you imagined me to be some blushing virgin all this time because if so then I have news for you!” He laughs something genuine this time around, but the nagging insecurities linger on the outskirts of your thoughts. While such a thing wouldn’t bother you in your own personal relationships (clearly, as evidenced by the fact that you carried on with what you were doing knowingly), the same may not be true for him in return. Despite reaching out to try and weigh how he’s feeling in that same moment, it’s nothing but cold and unknown on his end. Moments later, the man is pulling away some and angling his chin so that he can look at your face with a pout painting his lips. “Truly, Y/n, it doesn’t upset me. Not nearly as much as it used to at least, and any… ill feelings I do have are not directed towards you. If anything, I’m grateful that you could be there to take care of him when I couldn’t do so myself.”

A snort pushes out of you before you can stop it.

“I hardly did that.”

Wooyoung’s initial response is nothing more than a hum, and the hand he has on your shoulder slips down to your waist.

“It helped a lot more than you might think. He wouldn’t have visited me if it didn’t. And besides—” he waves his free hand through the air dismissively “—Yeo had a lot of negative feelings towards you to work out too, and that was probably a step in the right direction. I mean, simply talking about things would have been much healthier, but I wouldn’t say any member of our ragtag space crew is particularly good at carrying things out in a healthy manner.”

San’s words come to mind, the ones concerning Yunho, but you choose not to voice your thoughts this time. It doesn’t linger long in any case because Wooyoung startles the thoughts right out of your head as he lurches forward and drops a quick peck to the side of your face, just between your temple and ear. The action is more endearing than anything else, nothing more than something meant to ease the negative thoughts still eating away at your conscience, and you almost find yourself leaning closer to him in search of more of that comfort.

“I’m gonna go get some real sleep, not Dreamscape sleep. You should do the same too. I think you’ve earned that much.” The warmth in his tone is compelling enough for you to nod, and the last thing you feel in that cold landscape is his large hand pressed over your hip like he imagines you’ll disappear in the blink of an eye.

Whilst you don’t awaken immediately after that dream fades away, you dream of absolutely nothing so waking up hours later feels like no time has passed at all. You don’t stir too much upon waking, mostly because you have no feeling in your left arm thanks to the head that’s pressed against it. Neither you nor Wooyoung moved much in your sleep considering how his body is still tucked up against you with your arm around his waist as he cradles that same arm with fingers interwoven through yours. Given the stillness of his breathing and body, he’s not woken yet himself. You aren’t going to be the one to rob him of that peace either.

It proves difficult to untangle yourself from him, however, particularly when your foot gets caught around the edge of the sheet and you almost faceplant on the floor beside the bed instead of creeping out discreetly. If Wooyoung notices at all, he makes no indication of it and continues to doze away in the center of the bed as you slip on shoes and head out of the room.

Voices rise from downstairs, climbing up the stairs to greet you when you start stepping down to the first level of the house. You don’t think to put names or faces to the voices in favor of rubbing the sleep from your eyes and fighting off the leftover exhaustion in your system. It doesn’t take long to get down there anyway, and when you round the corner to the kitchen, none other than Minho and your captain are seated at the table. Both are leaned over the wood and seemingly locked in a rather serious discussion that you belatedly realize you are interrupting without warning. Before you can say a word, however, Hongjoong leans back in his chair and clears his throat, eyes flitting from the doctor to your sleep-swollen face. The two of you exchange no words but his disinterest in speaking to you doesn’t quite need acknowledgment. He passes a nod in Minho’s direction, stands from his seat, and takes his leave out of the cottage in the span of mere seconds.

The door slams as you open a cabinet to fetch a mug for some coffee.

“What was that about?” you ask after only a few seconds of silence. Minho laughs behind you, but the sound is muted in a way that you can only assume is because he’s taking a sip of his own drink.

“It was nothing necessarily important, in my humble opinion.” The slow trickle of coffee into your ceramic mug interrupts him although he cuts himself off in favor of waiting for you to finish without prompting. He continues speaking again once you turn around and sit in the chair Hongjoong previously occupied. “We were discussing some of my observations thus far. No breaches of doctor-patient confidentiality, of course, so don’t go thinking I’ve betrayed all your secrets to the man. General observations for his general knowledge, so to speak, and not just of you but your other companions as well, who are all characters in their own rights if I may say so.” You imagine he’s referring to Wooyoung’s outburst towards Hyunwoo, and frankly, you’d have to agree with the sentiment on his mind. Minho tilts his chin to the side, and the strands of purple hair framing his forehead fall a bit. “He also had some questions for me, more generic ones—” a laugh breaks through his train of thought as he blinks down at the table “—that made me feel an awful lot like I was being screened for something myself.”

You open your mouth to respond but Minho so suddenly looks off to the side and out the window on the opposite wall that you can’t bring yourself to speak at all. Instead, you take a long drag of the bitter coffee in your hands and wait for him to speak further.

“That’s beside the point though,” he says at last through a short shake of his head. “Your captain said he’s finished getting what he wanted out of Jisung. You’ll likely be leaving soon.” Your mug stalls halfway up to your mouth. Then slowly, it makes its descent back down to the table.

“It’s not too late for you to come along…” A crude snort follows your suggestion.

“Don’t go opening that door again, Y/n, it’s far better if you left it shut.” Annoyance creeps into his tone and across his features, given how his nose wrinkles as he spits the words out.

“You can’t possibly think that Jisung will let me waltz out of here with Ho—my crew. That’s unfathomable, isn’t it? After all the trouble he went through to get me in the first place?”

“It’s not that though.” His posture shifts to something more defensive as he leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his broad chest. “It’s a matter of importance — is his crew more valuable to him than you? Because they’re the ones at risk right now.”

“Do you want him to choose them over me?”

“I’ve told you before that I have no moral obligation to them, nor do I have an emotional connection either. But at this rate, I’d hazard a guess that I’ll find it quite impossible to feel any sort of emotional connection to any crew after this one if I were to leave.” The breath he huffs out is unstable and shaky, one that makes his chest stutter as though he can’t suck enough air into his lungs at the same moment. “There… is another issue. One of whether Jisung — will he actually go through with killing Hyunwoo? Will you still refrain from letting him do such a thing?”

“No,” comes your hasty answer, “I won’t.”

“Ha… such a strong… sense of justice you have.” Although he spits the sentence out rather quickly, he stutters so drastically that it makes you lean over the table a little to gaze at him with a curious stare. To the naked eye, there seems to be nothing wrong other than the slight fidget to his form. The morning light streaks across the room just enough to coat his face in its warmth, and through that, however, you can see the almost wild glaze to his eyes that makes his pupils blow wide for no immediately discernible reason. A sharp turn, given the composure he showed minutes ago in front of Hongjoong.

“Despite how much I hate him right now, I do not want to rob his family of having him in their lives,” you continue through the mixture of concern and confusion. “But what reason would Jisung have to kill him at this point, given that Hyunwoo isn’t the one taking me from him any longer?”

“Ah, yes, of course, yes, that would make more sense then, wouldn’t it?” It would, and that much is abundantly clear in your eyes but it’s more concerning that the doctor you’ve found to be nothing but perceptive since meeting him. Your first thought is, of course, that Hongjoong startled this sort of reaction out of him. That can’t be the case though as Minho seems far from afraid and rather like his thoughts are in a scrambled mess and he can’t fully grasp them at the moment.

“Are you alright, Minho?”

“Hm, would it… if he were to — yes, yes, then we could—”

“Minho!” You cutting him off seems to do the trick well enough given how quickly the man snaps out of his daze and blinks across the table with widened eyes. “Are you not feeling well?”

“Ah, just — yes, um, the painkillers, that’s what it is.”

“Are you injured?” Your questions persist as you lean over the table. It puts Minho on the defensive, however, and he pushes his chair back to put more space between the two of you. “Do you need medical help of some sort?”

“I’m fine. Thank you. I… we — we can speak later.” His tone holds no real malice to it. There’s some confidence there, even if it is shaky at best. What catches you off guard the most has nothing to do with his tone or the way he looks all around you but never quite at your face: it’s the trembling in his fingers, his knees buckling under his weight the moment he stands, and the franticness that you both move with to keep him from falling to the ground. You’re at the disadvantage given your position across the table and it also means that you can’t grab hold of him. He thankfully has it in him to catch the edge of the wood and stabilize his body just enough to prevent any real harm. You don’t think the air in the cottage has ever felt stiffer than it does in this moment right now with Minho shaking and sweating across from you with no discernible cause in sight.

“What has Jisung done to you, Minho?” It’s nothing more than a whispered inquiry that doesn’t beg an answer and merely hangs between your forms.

“No one amongst him and his crew are responsible for the worst of my afflictions, Y/n. I’m afraid leaving does nothing more than make matters worse for me.” He says it as though he’s tried to escape before, and been successful in that regard because such words wouldn’t come from a man with no first-hand experience. “I applaud you for trying as hard as you did and for putting a good word in for me with your captain. I only hope that you leave swiftly before the curtain can drop further and I ruin whatever pretty image you have of me contained in that head of yours.”

He stands, and you slap a hand down on the table between you, rising to your feet in the same moment. Stubborn to a fault, as always, but justified this time around. Your other hand stretches out as though to grab hold of the doctor but he’s too far away and your fingertips don’t even reach his sleeve.

“You don’t seem well,” you persist still, for what it’s worth.

“When did you first figure that out, Ghost?” You aren’t sure whether the usage of the codename is meant to get on your nerves or merely put a knife in whatever bond you’ve built up in your shared time here. “Was it only just now, or have the signs simply stacked up too high?” Perhaps you do have a fate after all, and perhaps it is to chase broken people and pray that you’re able to fix them but you hardly know how to do that much effectively. Minho leaves the room in such a rush that you’re incapable of stopping him. It feels like a hefty defeat.

You don’t move to sit back down, and the coffee staring up at you from the table only makes your stomach twist in all the wrong ways. In reality, there’s a wide variety of emotions churning in your gut — guilt, disgust, shame — along with the startling realization that you are in no position to be trying to fix this man, or anyone around you at all in actuality because when it all comes crashing down, you too are standing at the center of the carnage with your own demons at your back. What business does a broken person have in attempting to heal another? Here you sat offering some sense of salvation when less than twelve hours prior, you were rolling in your own sin and begging for punishment in return.

Religion has nothing to do with it, really, but it’s a cold wash of reality in the aftermath of something terribly ugly. Martyrs and saviors have an awful lot in common. At some point along the way, you think you started to view yourself as such, even if unintentionally, without stopping to ask if any of those you tried to touch actually wanted to be saved.

Amongst all those negative feelings leeching away at your conscience, self-realization is perhaps the harshest of them all.

It also makes you decide that you feel physically grimy and dirty too, and whilst you would usually have a shower nearby at a moment’s notice, you lack that simple pleasure here. The only option you have is to bathe outside in the pool and wash away what you did with Yeosang (which is rushing back to you with a new wave of guilt now) for good. You would much rather not be alone with your thoughts. And yet, it seems that is a majority of what consumes your time these days. Immediately your thoughts go to San, but just as quickly something else hits you out of the blue.

The thought stops you in your tracks halfway up the stairs back to your temporary bedroom, and your slipper catches on the lip of the next step up, nearly causing an ugly tumble if not for your iron-tight grip on the railing. If all along your subconsciousness has been pushing you towards broken people in the hopes of fixing them, then what does that make San to you? You lay a hand over the wristband biting into your skin. If you said such a thing aloud to him, you know well enough that he would reassure you and litter you with sweet words of comfort, but thinking of him doing so right now only deepens the pit of guilt in your stomach. What have you done to earn his affection and care in all these months? In retrospect, all you’ve managed to accomplish is to endanger him multiple times.

Wooyoung sleeps as soundly as he did when you left him not too long ago, and you continue to do your best to not disturb him as you seek out a new change of clothes and a towel to bring down to the bath. It’s faint, but his soul reaches out to yours despite being fast asleep like it’s simple instinct. A small flare of comfort, but a flame nonetheless, and you grab hold of it greedily to ease even just a little bit of the ache in your chest.

So, even though you wish you could take more than that for yourself, you leave well enough alone and slip back out of the room with nothing more. You also push down the urge to call San for verbal reassurance. The quiet surrounding you as you move about the house and into the outdoors isn’t the issue as much as the overarching loneliness is. San is awfully chatty, as are both Yunho and Wooyoung, and while Seonghwa isn’t much one for talking a lot, the two of you often were doing other things in place of comfort. No, right now in this moment, the person you find yourself missing the most is Jongho, with his silent yet persistent presence throughout the ship that you drifted towards almost naturally. Talking through the feelings swirling around in your heart would make you feel childish more than anything, so it’s his kind of comfort you crave to have with you again.

I ought to ask San about him when we talk next. You hesitate by the edge of the steaming pool of dark water. There are plenty of things you ought to do, perhaps, but dealing with Jisung should be at the top of that list.

A wave of realization hits you as you’re slipping into the warm water, clothes folded neatly and promptly abandoned beside the towel you brought along with you. The biggest of your issues before Hongjoong arrived was the possibility of Jisung killing Hyunwoo. Your shoulder still aches something awful thanks to the bullet put through you, and although Minho settled your panic about being hunted by some unknown predator, there is still a lingering sense of wrongness to the whole situation.

How does this end for the three of you? If it came down to it and you had to choose, is there any way you could make such a choice in good conscience?

Thinking about it now, you would admit that the two men are on the same level in terms of wrongdoings, but doubt has crept into the cracks in your resolve. They share in the blame for what was done to you, and as much as Jisung made you believe Hyunwoo was dead, Hyunwoo played right along without stopping to correct his mistakes. He, in many ways, took the easy way out with no intention of looking back, while Jisung at least made an effort to right his wrongs. However, killing Jisung would free Minho from his lingering bonds, as well as the entirety of his crew, and it would assure Hyunwoo’s safety with his family. The mother of his child as well as that child he helped bring into this universe.

“I didn’t want you to look at me the way you look at Jisung. I was genuinely trying to protect you, you have to understand that. Please, Y/n.”

Six years spent trying to erase every bad word spoken against his name, and the admission that you did such a thing to the man’s face, along with baring your heart when telling him how difficult those years were for you — where was his sympathy then? He threw it in your face with a vial of blue liquid meant to block out the bad once more.

Justice isn’t yours to weigh, not even a little. As easy as it is for you to lift a gun to a man’s head and pull the trigger, you find yourself fumbling and afraid in the face of this decision. You can’t pinpoint whether it is because you know both of them or simply that you know what is at stake. Were his family out of the picture, you would pick Hyunwoo in an instant if only because the wound on your heart is fresh and festering off the back of your last confrontation with him. If her scales have tipped one side all the way down then how much of yourself do you have to push onto the other to justify your conscience? You — for better or for worse — don’t get the chance to weigh that moral quandary because your thought process is brutally interrupted by a raspy tone coming from the edge of the pool.

“We need to talk.”

You’d know his identity even if he hadn’t announced his presence, because the short-heeled boots atop the stone several feet away from you are unmistakable.

“Can it not wait until I’m done bathing?” you question in return, pulling your chin up out of the water some to stare him down better. Hongjoong cocks a hip out as he brings both hands up to rest just under the tapered waist of his coat. It’s not his usual one — a detail that was far and away from your thoughts when you first laid eyes on him upon his arrival — but it looks equally old and used given the frays in the seams. Even the deep brown has worn down to a dull tan in places, giving sharp contrast to the gold-plated belts and buckles all around the garment.

“No, I’m afraid not, I’d like to get everything done and taken care of before the end of today so we can leave later this evening.” The denial comes with a shake of his head as well, one that makes you want to roll your eyes but you restrain yourself. “I’ll just bathe as well.”

“I don’t see why that’s necessary at all,” you start to protest, but the words fall on deaf ears as that coat you were analyzing seconds earlier starts getting pulled from the captain’s form without further ado. You look away in a panic, jerking your head so far to the side that it makes your neck hurt some. “Truly, this is far from necessary, Captain.”

“Hardly imagined you to be so prudish, Ghost.”

You wish to level him with a glare right now but the risk of seeing parts of him that you are far from ready to see exposed keeps you from doing that. Instead, you fall into a compliant kind of silence and continue to stare off at the further possible point imaginable until the rustling noises screech to a halt and the water around your body stirs. You give it another two seconds just to be as safe as possible then decide to tear your gaze back to where Hongjoong is now half-submerged in the pool with you. This is something you have seen before, and yet the awe of seeing the black ink spreading over his chest and down to his abdomen hasn’t subsided fully. Especially seeing the full expanse of the artwork now when it was so obstructed before. What’s more fascinating in your eyes, however, is the odd collection of scars down near his right hip with a long and stretched scar laid overtop. He only allows you a glance; it fades into the deep green water as he comes to sit down as well. It does nothing to stop the image of the scars from being burned into your brain. Such an orderly set of marks, it’s hard to believe that they were put there randomly, especially with the one running diagonally through the tally mark-like scars underneath it.

A question hovers on the tip of your tongue. You slip down further on the step you’ve found purchase on though instead of speaking up and let the warm water cover your mouth for a moment.

“How do you feel about Minho as a doctor?” Hongjoong doesn’t push for an answer right away, although he doesn’t explain his line of questioning either despite your less than subtle glaring. You tilt your chin up enough to expose your lips.

“What happened with Yunho?”

“We’ve finished questioning Jisung so he’ll likely want to see you now that he can.”

“What are those scars on your stomach?”

“Have you decided what you are going to do about Jisung? Hyunwoo?”

You puff your cheeks full of air and sit up straight once more. The waterline stops just beneath your shoulders, granting you some privacy despite the intimate yet vulnerable position you’ve found yourself in with this man.

“We seem to have a lot more to discuss than imagined, don’t we?” Hongjoong huffs out a dry chuckle and leans back against the wall of the pool. You try to keep your curious gaze from getting too greedy as he lifts a heavily inked arm and motions in your general direction. “You are free to speak first if you so desire.”

You gnaw at the inside of your lip in quiet indignance. True to his word, however, the pirate does nothing to rush you nor does he speak himself. He does have a (rather good) point because it isn’t that you can’t think of anything to say to him but rather that there seems to be such an abundance of things to talk about that you don’t know where to even begin. What you do know is that you would rather have this conversation be as amicable as possible, if the two of you can survive without being hostile towards each other at all.

“Thank you for bringing Wooyoung along for my sake,” you say under your breath, gaze dipping back down from his insistent eye contact.

“Hm? You’re rather far away, could you say that again?”

You’re about to repeat yourself in a rush to get the gratitude out of the way when you blink up at the man, and the expression he wears stops you dead in your tracks. Every bit of appreciation you just felt towards him dissipates in a cloud of smoke as you take in the little smirk curling the corners of his lips until the smile is more that of a cat than of a human.

“I believe it was you who claimed that I have no care for you. Am I remembering that correctly?”

“Or maybe you did it because you want me to comply.”

“Unless you’re expendable in my eyes.”

You jerk your chin up a hair, just enough to come up fully out of the water.

“My weapon, as you once called yourself.” He’s looking solely at your face yet his gaze is so piercing in that moment that you almost feel violated by the heat of his gaze on your features. “Then my Siren, my key, my treasure… fascinating that amongst those things there is but one commonality.”

Your teeth sink into your lower lip with enough force to break skin. If Hongjoong sees you wince, he makes no effort to point it out, although that’s likely because he has another point to make right now.

“That you’re mine.”

His aim is, as always, faultless.

“Regardless of what you are to me, you’re still mine, Y/n.” He pauses to give a little shrug and the smile dips down to give you a moment to breathe easier. “At least, that’s how you view this issue and what you’ve communicated to me time and time again.”

Except, upon further reflection, you cannot recall a time in which you’ve referred to yourself as his key, let alone his treasure. In fact, if you think about it, the only time you’ve heard him say such things was when the words came from his own mouth and not yours. Something seems to have been mixed up somewhere along the way: the line of thought Hongjoong attributed to your views of your place on the crew morphed with what he imagined you would be for him.

“What did you do to Jisung?” Switching the topic at hand is far easier than confronting whatever issue would come out of further conversation on that subject.

“Hm…” Hongjoong lifts both arms up out of the water, draping them over the edge of the bath’s rim. “Yeosang shot him in the foot one time but that’s the extent of the harm done to him. The doctor came by and patched him up after it happened so there’s nothing to worry about. He can be rather compliant when there’s more on the line.”

The context of being shot in the foot seems a bit hazy in your eyes but also when it comes to a man such as Hongjoong who operates on a hairpin trigger of insanity, such a thing isn’t the most deranged activity you can think of on a whim.

“He’s aware that he isn’t getting out of this with you anymore.”

“And you expect me to believe that he’ll simply roll over and let me walk away?”

“No, I fully anticipate that he wants to put up one last fight. With everything on the line, what more does a man in his position have to lose?”

“His life.”

“And as I already told you… that decision rests in the palm of your hand. Do you wish to leave without a fight? I can give you a gun, and you may walk into that barn and put a bullet between his eyes if you so desire.” Hongjoong speaks without blinking, and the steady eye contact is so uncomfortable that you find your gaze trying to find purchase anywhere but the man across from you in the water. “I wonder if his doctor can rectify such a wound though.”

Oddly enough, you don’t imagine that Hongjoong is talking about the wound that would be placed on Jisung through such an ordeal; rather, he seems to be referring to the impact it would have on you. Part of you ought to be flatter that he seems even vaguely concerned about your mental well-being. The overwhelming majority, however, finds offense.

“The stitchwork on your shoulder seems to be holding up nicely though.” He shifts his arm just enough to motion to your bare shoulder, where the evidence of your wound still resides albeit much cleaner and less gruesome than it was in recent days.

“It feels alright.” As though by instinct, you reach up to thumb over what’s left of the stitches. A fleeting thought passes through your head, urging you to have Minho take one last look before you go if only to try to convince him to leave with you one last time. “I think I prefer Yunho’s work more though.” It’s a quiet appraisal to see how Hongjoong might react to the mention of the healer, but nothing slips on the captain’s features unfortunately. “Minho is… a good mental doctor in my eyes. Someone suited to be a therapist of sorts. If I’m speaking honestly, I’m not sure that he has much experience with physical injuries beyond learning basics in school.”

“But he’s a suitable therapist?”

“In my eyes, yes, but I’m no expert in the matter.” Your comment comes with a quick shake of your head, and this time you pursue eye contact with the man in front of you. “And while I… begrudgingly accept that it’s neither my place nor my decision, I would like to see him out of Jisung’s grasp. I’d like to he–”

“Save him, you mean,” Hongjoong interjects, barely letting you get your words out before he’s cutting in sharply with a smirk twisting one corner of his pinkish lips. “You wish to save him since you have something of a hero complex.”

“Ah, why should we need to outsource a therapist when one happens to be sitting naked in a bath with me right this instant?”

“I believe that I’m merely stating the obvious, Y/n. If you take offense to such things then I imagine that’s why you find me so insufferable. San—” you don’t need him to give out a laundry list like this but it seems that he wishes to do exactly that as he continues down the line, pausing between each name like he wants them to hit like a punch every time “—Seonghwa, Yunho, Mingi, Jongho, Wooyoung… Yeosang. You begged me to allow Soojin on the ship, and with her, a mute child. Asked for my help in clearing your friend’s name before learning the harsh reality of the matter. I believe at one point you foolishly imagined that you could save Han Jisung himself from the demons eating away at his heart. Now I have this doctor informing me that you wish to help him get away, and here you are confirming that same desire with your own lips. I wonder how long the clock will tick until you try to save Nightingale as well. You’re not a ghost because you’re good at what you do but rather because you get up and run when you fail.”

You push to your feet in a rush, nearly slipping on the bottom of the pool, and Hongjoong at least has the decency to keep his stare locked on your face instead of looking further down. However, you desperately want out from under that stare, and the only solution you can think of is to turn towards the coping for a moment. It’s useless in the long run but it serves whatever purpose you were after in the heat of the moment.

“We’re pirates, Y/n, in case you forgot that technicality. Criminals of planetary and universal law, and by most people’s standards, criminals of moral law as well. I’ve been more than a little gracious thus far, but I can guarantee that I won’t always give you what you want on a silver platter. And I need you to understand that.”

“What are you asking of me?” Your tone sounds a little clipped as it is, but Hongjoong doesn’t show any sign of being bothered by that.

“I’m asking you to accept losses and quit while you’re ahead. You can’t save them all.”

“I don’t think you’re the judge of that though?”

The man leans forward so suddenly that it catches you off-guard. You imagine if he had the chance, he would either throw something in your direction or hit the nearest surface with enough force to startle.

“Don’t try to save Nightingale, don’t try to save Seonghwa, and stop trying to save San.”

“No care for the man who keeps your bed warm I see.” The words come out in a tumble and without a second thought, although you come to regret not thinking further about it the second you see Hongjoong’s expression. The rage on his features isn’t quite immediate, however, as for a moment, his initial reaction is nothing but sheer shock at what you’re implying.

“I hardly think you’re in any position to speak on a relationship you aren’t part of.”

“Yet you seem to think you can do the same about my relationship with San?”

In a move that feels awfully childish, Hongjoong brings down his hand against the water, and while his intention doesn’t seem to be to splash you, the residual effect does cascade water over part of your face. It, if nothing else, expunges some of the anger that radiates off his being from all the way across the pool.

“The scars you saw near my hip…” he starts in a much more level tone after heaving a deep sigh. “Every time I lose a crew member, I add another mark to my collection. Sixty-five thus far, amongst the seventy-four crew members I started with and had at my side over the years. I do not wish to add any more, and if you keep putting San in danger the way you have recently, how can I not worry?”

Much to your chagrin, he has a point, and it’s one that you cannot ignore either. Although, the question that bothers you the most is the unanswered one of who is included amongst the crew members who have not been lost. It’s rather easy to count the seven he had when you first slipped onto the ship. Thus the mystery remains of who those last two unaccounted members might be. You know you aren’t included in that bunch since you came after that initial group of seventy-four. Two remain, two who clearly aren’t on the crew right now as they aren’t on the ship, and it’s just another messy enigma to add to the long list with your captain.

“If I were to die, would my life be added to that collection?” you inquire instead, more out of a morbid curiosity than anything else.

“Even if I had to be the one to end your life.”

It’s an answer that isn’t much of an answer in a lot of ways, but his firmness is what gives away what he really means by that. You suppose that some part of you should feel grateful that at least you’ve solidified your place in his crew enough for that honor. Discussing the details of what would happen after your death, however, is nothing pleasant and you don’t wish to dwell on it any longer than you have to. Turning to the side, you put your back to your captain and fiddle mindlessly with something amongst your pile of belongings outside the bath.

When you glance back over your shoulder at Hongjoong, he too has turned to his side of the coping. With his chest pulled up out of the water, it’s just enough for you to get an eyeful of the mess of black inking over his back. It stretches over the expanse of skin available to your eyes to the point where it’s hard to find where one line ends and another begins, but you can’t deny the art in the pieces that weave together. A story to tell, you’re certain of it, but you aren’t about to ask for that tale, at least not now. And amongst that pile of ink, you struggle to find anything that looks familiar under it all. Although you imagine if there were truly something under his tattoos that would look familiar to you, it would not be all too difficult to simply conceal them with other markings to the point where it erases all possible recognition. Silently, you sit back down on your little stair under the water, pulling your knees up to your chest and hugging them tightly as you examine your captain from a distance. On a whim, and partially out of an obscene interest in knowing whether there is some other reason for your inexplicable obsession, you try to reach out mentally, a stupid little shout of his name in your head while his back is turned.

He doesn’t even so much as flinch.

When he sits back against the wall of the pool, something dangles between his lips. It takes you a moment to realize what exactly it is, along with the context clue of an old-fashioned lighter in his right hand, and your chin tilts in question.

A cigarette.

It’s not something you’ve seen him partaking in before, although you can’t particularly claim to be surprised that he does such things. You watch with a careful gaze as he cups his free hand over the end of the thin tube and presses the lighter close. A small huff of opaque smoke clouds up around his face after the first puff. You don’t catch his next motions until he arches a brow at you and leans his head down like a poor attempt at a nod. It’s then that you realize Hongjoong is offering you the same pleasure, a nearly empty packet extended in your direction.

“Want one that badly?” he inquires around the butt of his own.

“I wasn’t aware you did such things,” you murmur. For a moment, all you get in response is a soft shrug of his shoulders. It disturbs the surface of the water and brings ripples over it until they lap at your skin.

“Rarely on the ship because it’s dangerous, according to some.”

You have no need to ask who he is speaking about with that comment; it’s clear enough through the sharp yet somehow fond gleam that passes over his dark eyes. You step up from where you’re perched once more, only to wade through the warm water on your tiptoes and reach his side of the pool. His eyes linger on your hand as you reach up to take one of the cigarettes, only retreating to place it back outside the water when you place the item between your lips. As he shifts, his foot knocks hard against your ankle, and you slip over the slick floor without warning, lunging forward just to keep yourself from flailing back and wetting the cigarette. It serves you more harm than good: as you throw a hand out to the wall of the pool to restabilize yourself, the flat of your hand reaches Hongjoong’s bare chest instead, skating over the tattooed skin that’s warmer to the touch than the water the both of you are in. You correct your mistake as quickly as you can manage and jerk over to grip the lip of coping around the pool’s walls.

The blunder surely can be read on your expression as well, and you don’t doubt that you look as flustered and panicked as you feel — not to mention slightly humiliated because of course this would happen with Hongjoong of all people, the one man you would truly love to strangle more often than not. Because along with the obvious intimacy of the position and beyond the closeness of your bodies, another issue remains glaringly apparent in that you are both fully nude under the water and that your bare chest is just shy of being pressed flush against his. That, however, pales in comparison to the horror you feel as you realize your knee is now pressed between his legs and up against other unmentionables that reside where your leg rests.

In stark comparison to your panic, Hongjoong chuckles around his cigarette, smoking curling up from his lips. The water between your bodies quivers some more when he lifts his elbow up to flick the lighter under the end of your cigarette. The heat in your cheeks amplifies as he snaps the cap back down with a loud click. The grin stretching the corners of his mouth seems to accentuate the mockery in his laughter.

“That much of a savior complex yet you don’t seem interested in saving me at all, Ghost,” he murmurs, twisting to toss the lighter over his shoulder and onto the pile of clothes he retrieved it from. His sharp stare turns into something resembling a glare moments later. “Makes me wonder why that is exactly.”

You pull your hand back to latch onto the cigarette between your lips instead of replying. As you start to put more distance between your body and his, Hongjoong leans forward and catches you by the wrist of your free hand. Water sloshes up to your shoulders. It still gives you the opportunity to yank your knee back from his crotch.

“There are some people who simply can’t be saved,” you whisper. The smoke in your mouth tastes bitter, although you aren’t sure if it’s truly from the cigarette.

“Is that so? What an honor it is to be counted amongst that lot.” Hongjoong slips down from the step he’s found purchase on and plants his feet in front of yours at the bottom of the pool. You wouldn’t say he’s much taller than you, nothing drastic, but now as you stand almost chest to chest, you feel that height difference more than ever before. “I think you’re more afraid of failure than anything else, Y/n. You’re scared you won’t be able to save me from all the crimes I’ve committed, won’t be able to absolve me of the neverending list of sins on my roster.”

“What reason is there to try in that case?”

He tilts his head down, and you scowl as you’re forced to lean back to keep him from puffing smoke into your eyes.

“It’d be fascinating to see you try.”

“So you can be pleased with yourself when I fail just like everyone else who has tried?”

“I have a penchant for corrupting those who make such attempts. Take a look at my healer, my Spectre, my precious lieutenant even. Would you not agree that I’ve made them all worse along the way, knowing what you know and seeing what you’ve seen?”

“I can’t decide whether you’re encouraging me to fail or to simply stay away as I fully intend to.”

“People like you… they go from person to person desperately seeking to save whoever they can get their hands on all because they know they can’t save themselves from what they’ve done in the past. That’s what pushed you to fuck Yeosang last night despite him hating you so damn much, isn’t it?” Hearing such crude words fall from his lips shouldn’t shock you the way it does. Perhaps it’s moreso his knowledge of what happened that surprises you. “You’ll stay away until you run out of people to save, then you’ll come crawling to me on your hands and knees begging for just a sliver of a chance to fix me, to play the savior again.”

Your heart clenches with nerves. Hongjoong tugs his cigarette out of his mouth and when he leans over you more, you’re forced to squeeze your eyes shut and turn your face away as he exhales a puff of smoke down on you.

“And what then, little dove?”

Fingers grip your face. A deep scowl paints your lips as Hongjoong forces you to look at him once more with the pads of his fingers leaving deep imprints on your cheeks.

“Go on ask me what happens then,” he hisses through his teeth.

“What then?” You spit back with a snarl of your own. Your own hand trembles where it hovers above the water, still eager to keep it from dipping below the surface.

His expression softens to become a smile that doesn’t match the cruel gleam in his eyes.

“I’ll give you that chance, just to make you think for a fraction of a second that you can do it before I corrupt you and leave you to rot from the inside out.” He pauses to take another inhale from his cigarette, and this time he lets the smoke pool in his mouth rather than sucking it down entirely. “So, tell me, Y/n, do you still wish to play the hero?”

You answer that question with a glare rather than words. Hongjoong pushes forward a few more steps, and you step back with each one he takes towards you. There’s nowhere to run in here, however, depending on what level of humiliation this man is after. He corners you against the opposite side of the bath, the side you started on, and you get no warning before the backs of your knees hit the step. When you stumble back onto it, there’s no saving the cigarette in your hand, but in hindsight, you’re a bit grateful because you had no interest in finishing it off anyways. The larger and more prevalent issue comes when Hongjoong simply continues in his warpath to corner you against the coping, hands moving down to cage you in as you feel one of his legs press down against the step on either side of your own. Even that proximity isn’t enough for him. He finds it necessary to lean over you as much as possible, to force you to slide down until your neck is nearly submerged, and to loom over you with that minimal space between your bodies. He doesn’t lay a hand on you but what’s worse is that the more you move, the more his hips press against yours. As much as you try to ignore it, it’s rather impossible with the two of you in the state you’re in, and the thought that if anyone were to interrupt at this exact moment, it would look as though you were doing something else entirely.

“Can you move your fucking dick?” you hiss out through gritted teeth, blinking furiously to erase the wash of embarrassment you’re feeling right now.

“You’re the one who has it trapped between our stomachs. I didn’t ask you to move down now, did I?” With him directly above you and his chest the only thing in front of you, there’s nowhere for your gaze to escape to. Squeezing your eyes shut you huff out a scoff and move to push him off of you. “What? You afraid that touching it is gonna make you want me more than you already do?”

“More than I — excuse me?” You were pointedly trying to ignore what you were feeling against your abdomen, but that’s quite difficult when he’s laid atop you the way he is currently. And as much as you don’t want to think about it, your brain latches onto the thought that the length of him that is pressed into your stomach is pinching your skin quite a bit more than is natural. You aren’t chaste enough to not realize why that is, maybe because you’ve fucked San who has a piercing of his own in said region — although clearly elsewhere and not nearly as many as Hongjoong seems to have — but you don’t want to even entertain the thought of thinking about this man’s dick more than you have to. You fully imagined to never have to think about such things as it relates to Hongjoong but life seems to have a funny way of exceeding all your expectations in less than pleasant ways.

He is capable of mercy, however, as he pulls off your body just enough to let you scramble back into a sitting position. You yank your knees up to your chest for good measure even though it feels as though you’ll have the memory of his dick shoved into your abdomen imprinted on your brain for eternity.

He takes a step back from the step, moving to pull a drag out of his cigarette again.

“You can be so demure when you’re not fucking every member of my crew.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you!”

“The key difference between us being that I don’t pretend like sex fixes every problem.”

“Seonghwa initiated things just as much as I did back then,” you retort, “and what happened between Yeosang and I was just… a release of pent-up anger. I’m not pretending either here.”

“Do you truly think you’re so innocent?” Hongjoong huffs out one last puff of smoke before snuffing out his cigarette along the surface of the water. When he tosses it by your head, you’re merely grateful that you don’t flinch under his stare. He steps closer again, but this time he doesn’t move to pin you down and instead stands to your side and grips the rock coping that lines the pool. “You’re just as bad as Yunho in that regard.”

He opens the door to a bigger question that has been eating away at you, but even with such direct permission to speak about it, you can’t shake the feeling that it’s still overstepping an unspoken boundary. You glance at the man out the corner of your eye. He doesn’t stare back, head hanging low with his chin tucked to his chest.

“Just what do you think you’re fixing in doing any of that?” The question is more rhetorical than anything else in your ears, which is almost good because you don’t have an answer for him. One that could be addressed to Yunho for all you know, and the larger part of you wonders if that’s why he’s drawing similarities between the two of you in the first place.

“Do you want him to fix you?”

Hongjoong laughs but the sound is haunting and hard to listen to, accentuated by the way he tucks his head further and tangles his wet fingers through his own hair without preamble.

“Fix me” begins to sound a lot like a plea as you hear it more, less like mockery and jeering as you wear away at the metal walls he’s constructed around himself.

The only question that remains, however: is this simply a ploy to lure you behind those walls?

The way he stares at you now, hands splayed over the same rock that’s digging into your skin and biting at your shoulders, holds such malice and contempt that the thoughts of it being desperation quickly wither away.

A man like Kim Hongjoong is hardly desperate, not when he knows exactly how to get his hands on what he wants.

In that same vein of thought, as it pertains to you, you’ve pushed yourself into position on his little invisible game of chess. Right into the line of fire with the option to either move forward or retreat as far back as imaginable.

Something tells you that you will do exactly as he claimed you would earlier.

You’ll wind up at his feet begging for mercy and a chance to be spared, and if it is to be a slow and torturous descent then you can’t imagine pulling yourself out of that freefall quick enough.

“I’ll do my best to have Minho brought back with us, but I cannot force him to come if he does not wish to do so.”

Being naked in front of this man is the last of your worries, you decide, as you’ve just now come as close to having him in less appropriate positions as you can get without it actually happening. Thus, without sparing him a second glance, you push yourself up and out of the water in a futile rush to preserve some of your dignity.

“No need to rush on my account. I won’t look where I’m not supposed to.”

“How chivalrous,” you snort back, but true to his word, he’s turned fully around when you glance back over your shoulder.

“You can see Jisung if you’d like. He ought to still be in the barn.”

You hesitate, slowing your movements as you pull a towel up around your body.

“Are you going to kill him?”

“Are you?”

“I don’t think so,” you admit after a moment of silence. Hongjoong doesn’t respond immediately himself, and what follows is a quiet that’s only disrupted by the sound of water and you drying yourself off with your towel. “I don’t think it will give me any closure.”

“I hope you don’t intend to ask me to bring him back as well.” It’s more a joke than anything else, and the levity of his tone brings a laugh out of you as well.

“No. I think this is one bridge I’d prefer to leave burnt behind me.”

He offers up a laugh in response himself, more of a quiet huff than anything else. Compared to what you heard earlier, you much prefer that sound out of him. “Once you’re done with him, we can head out. Unless you have more you wish to say to your other friend.”

“I don’t.” Given how Hongjoong nods his head at your quick refusal, you imagine you’d see a smirk painting his life if you were looking at his face. Silence passes after that, allowing you to dress in peace and gather your belongings under your arm. “Please — and I truly don’t say this with the hope of saving him — do what you can to convince Minho to leave. I simply wish for him to not have to live like a slave. I trust you still have that sliver of morality left in you.”

“I give you my word, Y/n.” You barely hear the words over the din of nature, but you catch them nonetheless on your way out of the small clearing, leaving the man in the pool alone feeling just as lost and confused as you did when you went in.

You don’t bother taking your belongings back to the house as the barn is closer, and frankly, you don’t envision yourself sticking around to chat with Jisung for long. That’s your initial thought; however, actually setting foot inside the building to find the man seated on a paltry-looking bed mat and looking terribly pathetic, you feel the tiniest tug of sympathy towards him. Slow and deliberate, you push the door to the barn shut behind you and set your bundle of clothes down near the latch.

Jisung’s eyes flit up to your figure only when you clear your throat to announce your presence. He looks none the worse for wear, in fact, you’d almost argue that he looks better than he did before his extended stay in this building. It isn’t enough for you to want to get too close to him, and it’s with careful steps that you stop yourself several feet from where he’s sitting.

“Finally she graces me with her presence. The darling damsel in distress was saved from her captor at last.” As mocking as his words are, you find no hostility in Jisung’s tone. It doesn’t take much for you to realize that he’s speaking from a place of defeat, that his luck has finally run out, and he’s at the end of his rope. “Have you come to gloat?”

“Maybe I should have,” you answer, but you’re none too bold about the way you speak to him. “I hear you were shot in the foot though.”

“Just a little.”

“Could’ve at least evened it out and shot you in the other one too.”Jisung blanches, face shifting from one of humor to seriousness in a split second as though he’s wary you’re about to whip out a gun yourself.

“I think you’ll be happy to hear that Hyunwoo has shown his true colors instead.”

Jisung sits up, propping himself up with both arms as he juts them out behind his back.

“It’s hardly worth anything now but I told him not to tamper with your memories a second time. That once was enough, we did our damage then, and doing it again wouldn’t change anything at all.” He makes a show of dragging his tongue over his teeth. For once, he refuses to look your way, finding purchase anywhere except for where you stand across from him. “I’m no saint, but I did try. I see it did nothing to dissuade him though.”

“Minho was the one who refused to do it.”

“Ah.” Jisung wets his lips then nods a few times. “Hyunwoo is perfectly capable of administering the serum himself. He did so the first time. He must have wanted to pass off the guilt to someone else this time.”

“Why did you really bring me here, Jisung?”

“I already told you, didn’t I? I didn’t lie about that much. I truly didn’t think Hyunwoo would suggest what he did.”

“Yes but… you knew he had a life here, that he had moved on and found — that he’s at peace here.”

“Yes, I knew that. And I thought that if you saw it for yourself, you would want to move on too.”

“I’ve wanted to move on for a long while, Jisung. The one thing holding me back was wanting to redeem him.” You kick at the dirt under your feet with a little scoff. “In hindsight, I can’t believe I was going to sign pardon papers for him.”

“Ah, so that’s what you were after…” The man draws his knees up and shifts to rest his elbows against them. “It’s never too late to sign them for yourself.”

And oddly enough, that isn’t a fate you’ve entertained for yourself. Never once did you think your way out was through signing those papers for your own freedom, even before you knew the reality of what went down all those years ago. It was never something you wanted for yourself, only for Hyunwoo, and now you almost think it would be easier to burn those papers than to give them to anyone else. Sure, there’s a long list of people who deserve them much more than Hyunwoo and much more than yourself. But —

“No,” you mutter through a slight shake of your head. “It’s not too late, but it isn’t about the timing of things either.” Your thoughts go back to the crew, back to the ship and the ones there now, to the ones here with you now. What right do you have in pardoning yourself while remaining by their sides? “I don’t think it’s my fate to have a sense of peace like Hyunwoo’s. Perhaps my fate is to die out in the black sea with the people I care about instead.”

“Guess we won’t be buried next to each other on Kebos then.”

“Was that a promise we made?”

Jisung wrinkles his nose a little, and when he shifts to look at the wall, you see a certain shine to his eyes that’s unmistakable.

“Yeah, I suppose it was.”

He doesn’t deserve an ounce of your sympathy. You know that much. But you’ve always been weak to someone whose very will has been broken down before your very eyes, and seeing him like this certainly sheds a light of understanding on some of his less than savory behaviors.

“For whatever it’s worth, Y/n, I’m sorry. I know — I know that won’t fix anything I’ve done, but I’m at least capable of remorse.”

“I know you’re looking for redemption, but I can’t be the one to give it to you.”

“Maybe that’s what I’ll do after all this is said and done. Don’t know what I’m gonna do otherwise. Your Scourge has already promised that I won’t get out of this with my crew.”

“There’s always Echidna,” you suggest. “You could find work there without the risk of being arrested.”

“I think I’d still like to be buried on Kebos though. Perhaps I’ll go back to Vladimir.”

You don’t voice it, mostly because you think he’s already well aware, but if Jisung were to crawl back to such a man now, he would likely not survive the ordeal. You hate that you take so much pity on the man before you after all he’s done because of all his mistakes and yet you still find yourself trying to offer some reprieve.

“Maybe you can find work there that isn’t so… bloody.” Jisung laughs hard enough for the sound to echo through the barn a little. “I still kinda want to punch you in the neck though. Several times. With a steel pipe.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, little lady!”

“And yet somehow I don’t want you dead.”

“I suppose that’s the biggest compliment I could ask for from you after all’s said and done.” He shrugs, and a quaint little grin twists his lips as he finally looks up at your face. “I doubt there’s any value in saying thank you, is there?”

“I really don’t want your gratitude, so — sorry to disappoint.”

“Well then this is just awfully fucking bittersweet, isn’t it?”

It does leave you with the feeling of someone constricting your heart.

“Killing you would hurt a lot more than it would help.” You aren’t sure why you share that but the words come out without thought. “I’m just ready to move on now. But if you show up one more fucking time, Han Jisung, I swear to god I’ll pu—”

“Yeah, got it, no need to hammer that point home.”

“Let’s both move on, together… but apart.”

Jisung lifts a hand to his temple, pressing his index and middle fingers together as he gives a cheeky showing of saluting you.

“Roger that, little lady.”

“We’re killing daylight now it’d probably be best if we left sooner rather than later.”

“I think your friendly little Elitist was coming back to put some cuffs and chains on me any minute now.” His gaze shifts past your shoulder, and the moment his brows draw together in question, you know that something isn’t quite right. There’s the sound of wood rubbing against wood, then a telltale click of metal locking into place. You spin on your heel to face the door only to find a familiar head of red hair standing over by the door. The latch has been pushed into place, and his gloved hand is still falling away from the clasp when you set your gaze on him.

“Hyunjin…?” you call out, taking a few tentative steps in his direction. He turns around slowly, but his face is hardly visible under the black mask he has pulled up over his lower face. The visage is something equal parts startling and horrifying, as all you see from a distance is a glint of blue in his eyes as he drags his eyes from Jisung to you.

“Jisung isn’t going anywhere.” He reaches behind his back slowly, and when his hand comes back into view, there’s a pistol clasped between his fingers. “Jisung won’t be leaving at all.” Except when he lifts the gun, you find its aim pointed at your head rather than Jisung’s. “So let’s take a little walk up to the cliffside, Ghost.”

✧✧✧ a/n: HI HI! it’s been a long time hasn’t it eeee T-T i’m sorry besties!!! i’ve been mega affected by a lull in inspiration and motivation both so! if this feels a little rough that’s why ;-; however here we are <3 she’s a doozy and a half yee hAW! but im glad i finished it bc the pace is finally gonna pick UP again ! as always thank you for being patient with me eee i love u all <3 i hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!

Mists of Celeste is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez series #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yeosang x reader #wooyoung x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #jongho x reader #yunho x reader #ateez fanfic #mists of celeste #caly.writes

[of-twilight-and-moonshadow]

Always There - Marcel Barthel x Reader

Figured I’d get the Marcel one out of my way while I could. I’ve been having some German feels for a while (who can blame me though? )

I do apologize now for any INCORRECT translations. I do NOT know German well enough, I know about 5-6 words and that’s it. (Yes, No, Hello, Love, Ambulance and Hospital. The necessities) 

Y/N = Your name

If you don’t like Ember Moon, Kacy or Kayden, feel free to think up your own NXT roommate situation for a TakeOver event. That’s where I thought this would be at -shrug- 

EDITED IN: Original Tag List @starwithaheart​ @shedevill22 @amourseculier @regalbanshee​ 

Tagging those who Requested Marcel!  @barthelsimperium

(divider)

Letting out a deep breath, I glanced over at the digital clock next to the bed I was sharing with Ember. The red light read 3:29. Frowning, I looked at my other two roommates, Kacey and Kayden, who were also fast asleep much like Ember.

“So unfair…” I sighed.

This was now night three of no sleep. I knew I had to do something—if it kept going, Hunter was bound to realize, and not only that I could accidentally hurt someone in the ring. What could I do though?

Back home, I’d get up and make myself busy—but I didn’t want to wake up my friends.

Friends…

“Just find me, liebe. I don’t care what the time is!”

Marcel’s words came crashing into my fore-thought, causing me to purse my lips. I couldn’t actually just stroll to his room and wake him up at this ungodly hour… could I? Ember would never let me live it down, if she found out I went to his room this late at night. She’s the only one I have ever told my feelings towards. The only one who knew I loved Marcel, my impeccable German.

On screen, he was cold, cunning, methodical and egotistical. Behind the screen though? Marcel Barthel was the funniest, kindest and most considerate guy I had ever known. Our friendship had started out a bit oddly, as somehow his suitcase had ended up in the women’s locker room and I, of course, was the one to return it to him. He was clearly confused and embarrassed, but thankful all the same. I had cracked a joke that if he wanted to spend time with me all he had to do was ask—and upon hearing the chuckle from Fabian, I quickly excused myself in embarrassment, barely hearing Marcel speak to Fabian as I left.

“Lach nicht uber sie!”  ((ts: Don’t laugh at them))

Later that night, Marcel had found me backstage, quickly taking a seat beside me and leaning back slightly.

“You said if I wanted to spend time, all I need to do was ask,” he explained, causing me to go red from embarrassment.

“I-it was a joke… You don’t have to—”

“You may have been joking, but I’m not, Kleiner.”  ((ts: little one)) 

“I…. have no idea what that means.”

He only laughed in response, shaking his head slightly, promising me,” I’ll teach you some words.”

I smiled at the memory, before glancing a risk at the clock once more.

3:36

Fuck it, I decided. Carefully as I could, I pushed back the covers and climbed out of the warm cocoon I had made. Grabbing my wallet on the way by the tv stand, I tiptoed to the door and as quietly as I could, opened the door and snuck out, closing it with a soft click behind me. Gnawing on my bottom lip as I walked up the steps to the floor above, I thought about how close Marcel was to me—how close in my heart he always was.

Holidays, bright and early (even despite time zone differences) we’d be the first to wish one another a happy holiday; happy birthday—new years. When we’d both be at an event, we’d seek the other one out.

Marcel hadn’t taught me the translation for liebe yet, but since he was always calling me it, I had decided to ask Fabian one night, when Marcel was off getting something to drink.

“Heh, I don’t think I should be the one to tell you, Principessa.”  ((ts: Princess))

“Oh, come on—please? If you don’t I’ll just look it up online. C’mon Fabian, please?”

“Alright, alright—love,” Fabian answered, his eyes going over my shoulder for a second, before his voice lowered,” Liebe means love.”

Love.

Did it mean Marcel loved me the same way I did him? Probably not.

But it still made me feel happy, like I mattered to at least someone. Coming to a stop at room 329, I took a deep breath and knocked lightly on the door.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

Twenty-five seconds.

Nothing.

Swallowing the lump in my throat and fighting the urge to just go back downstairs to my own room, I tentatively knocked once again, two short, soft bumps on the door.

Five seconds.

Ten—

The door opened slowly, catching me by surprise as I looked up from the floor. There before me stood a hooded-eyed, bed-headed Marcel, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. When he realized who it was, he seemed to wake up a bit.

“Liebe? Is everything In Ordnung?”    ((ts: alright))

“Uh, yeah. No. It’s fine…. Uh… I just… you said to…” Everything I said was coming out jumbled, and I could see Marcel trying to make sense of it all,” Sorry I bothered you this late—I’ll just—sorry, go back to sleep—” I turned to walk away, but stopped short when I heard his voice call my name.

“Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, please, just—go back—”

“Hör auf, dich zu entschuldigen!” I heard Marcel snap, before his voice softened,” Komm schon, come.”   ((ts: Stop apologizing / come on))

With uncertain steps, I slowly walked back over to his open door, shivers running down my spine when I felt his hand gently rest on my back, ushering me in at my own pace.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Marcel asked as he closed the door behind us.

I shook my head, unsure if he could even see it in the darkness of the room,” Sorry, I just—”

“Liebe—stop saying sorry.”

Without needing to see him, I knew there was a frown on his face.

“Sor–…..”

In the darkness, I heard him give a small sigh, before suddenly, I felt his arms wrap around me and pull me close to him,” I told you, you can come to me at times like this. There’s no need to apologize for it.”

“It’s just… it’s so late—or… early—I didn’t want to wake you up…”

“Don’t worry about that, okay? Come, make yourself comfortable.”

I felt his hand gently take my own and lead me towards the bed.

“W—what about Fabian? Will he—”

“Don’t worry about him, liebe,” Marcel gave a soft chuckle,” He’s a deep sleeper.” His hand left mine, and I could hear him get back into his bed.

Do I?

Don’t I?

“You won’t have a chance to get any sleep standing there, come on.” I heard him pat the space beside him and I was beyond grateful for the darkness in the room- otherwise he would be able to see how red my face was right now. Slowly, I peeled back the covers on the empty side and slid underneath, careful to not touch Marcel in anyway- which he must have noticed.

“I don’t bite, liebe.”

“Why do you call me that?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. I had to know—needed to know. Marcel grew quiet for a few moments and I feared he wouldn’t answer me, until I felt his hand gently creep over mine once more and slowly pull me towards him. Wordlessly, I felt him softly pull me as close to his body as possible, laying right beside him, my head on his bare chest.

“Because… Du bedeute mir die Welt…I love you…” I could hear the uncertainty and the hope in his statement, and I couldn’t help the smile the slowly grew on my face,” We’ll talk more tomorrow, liebe. For now… get some sleep.”   ((ts: You mean the world to me))

Slowly nodding my head, I let my body relax into his embrace and before I knew it my eyes got heavy—and as I drifted off to sleep, I felt him press a gentle kiss to my forehead.

No more sleepless nights, no more uncertainty.

I was loved.

#wwe #world wrestling entertainment #imagine #fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #Marcel x Reader #Marcel Barthel #NXT #NXT UK #fluff

[stillhavetodothat]

Replaying Nancy Drew without cheating - Part Four: The Final Scene

AND HERE IT IS....

Is The Final Scene the MOST brilliant game in the entire Nancy Drew series??

Hear me out. It has literally everything you could ever want out of a Nancy Drew game. Danger. Mystery. A ticking clock. A lack of pointless chores. An intriguing backstory. An amazing soundtrack. An extremely sassy Nancy. A caked up Nicholas Falcone.

I think the ONLY thing that is missing from this game, honestly, is length. I think it is well-known in the community that this game is too short, especially on replay, but I recently learned that this was the first game that HerInteractive put out on a 2-a-year schedule, so the development was rushed. After TRT, the company almost could not afford to continue making games, so they had to switch strategies. Technically, FIN saved the franchise. In that context, the only disappointment is that they didn’t have more time to work on this absolute MASTERPIECE.

I also think my love for this game has grown after reading the book that it’s based on. Queen Simone Mueller was adapted from a boring male Simon Mueller, the talented Louisa Falcone was adapted froma boring male Louis Falcone. The Harry Houdini storyline was completely new in the game. Brady Armstrong having a vested interest in the theater demolition was also new in the game and made him a much more interesting and sinister character. I know that this book was written in the 80s, but Bess’s one-dimensionality (obsessed with food and boys) annoys me; much happier to see Vietnamese-American college student as the kidnapee instead.

Not cheating in this game was super easy for me. It’s another game I’ve played a dozen times, so even if I didn’t remember the exact sequence of events, I quickly was able to move the game along. I finished in under 3 hours, and that is with being consistently distracted by the NFL game my fiance had on in the background. Having three distinct days makes this game very sequential and hard to get stuck.

Some random thoughts I had during this replay:

1. Someone put this soundtrack on vinyl, PLEASE. I would literally murder someone to play this in the background while reading a book and smoking a joint on my couch.

2. Even as a child, I loved Nicholas Falcone. There is just something about a man with a passion. Nothing used to turn me on (still does turn me on) than Nicholas’s intellectual negging of a dim-witted Brady Charmstrong during the press conference. This was also the first time I really took the time to listen to the entire press conference from the ticket booth...pure gold.

3. Speaking of the ticket booth, taking to Sargeant Ramsay on the phone is absolutely hilarious. Who is this voice actor? Someone find him and give him more gigs. And Eustacia Andropov? An incredible character and a treat of a phone call as well. WHO WROTE THIS SCRIPT?? I think this is probably the funniest game there is.

4. Let’s just go ahead and go through some of the best quotes of the game.  “I may have to cut this short, Hal. Someone just climbed out of my wardrobe.” (entirely unphased) “I think your phone’s about to ring.” “Take a breath and pinch yourself, because it’s reeeally happening: Brady Armstrong, in the flesh. Star of Vanishing Destiny? Go ahead, faint. I’ll catch you.” “Why don’t you tell that little grey troll that I think he did it just to keep himself from dying of boredom in this old dump. THAT’s my comment.” “Fight the power.” (a classic) "Mr. Charmstrong, do you find that your fans respond to you more in your chicken suit or curly wig?" “Maybe you’d better think about being ‘in on the law’ and ‘down with the truth’ Nicholas.” “More? I’m 96 over here. I don’t exactly have time to burn.” “You tell that Sherman Trout Eustacia said, ‘You’re not dead yet, Shermie, so get up and make yourself useful.’” “Armstrong: Uh, do we still like him or what?”

5. Joseph always scared the hell out of me. Even to this day. He is creepy and he IS a little grey troll. Why is he constantly trying to get me to leave the theater and go to bed in the middle of the day? Why is he lying about his brother Jake? Why is he always popping up in the most chilling way possible? I hate him. I suspected him from the very beginning.

6. When Nancy says that Maya never goes ANYWHERE without her press pass...ma’am you are an undergrad student at Washington University. Please calm down.

7. Not sure if anyone remembers, but back in the day on the HerInteractive message boards people used to put all the games they had finished in their signature for all their posts. Some would just put a list of all the games, but others would get creative (including me, although it wasn’t creativity on my part as much as it was copying other people). Their signature would say things like “I have Stayed Tuned for Danger,” or “I have discovered The Secret of the Scarlet Hand.” FIN’s was “I have seen The Final Scene” and I still to this day say this whenever I talk about this game with anyone. Throwback.

8. I never would have figured out the gum on wand bit if not for the message boards back in the day, and my memory of it now.

9. This is a game that is more about the mystery and less about the puzzles. I loved this one, even though this is probably the hardest part of the entire game (besides the gum on wand thing).

10. The ending is SO intense. Because I know exactly what to do, it is less so, but the whole thing still gives me goosebumps. That timer in the corner quickly ticking down? Hiding in the closet when the police do their final sweep? Joseph being an absolute psychopath? The focus knob breaking off? The KEYS? MAYA BEHIND GLASS?? TRYING TO BREAK THE GLASS WITH A SLEDGEHAMMER? JOSEPH BEING A PSYCHOPATH AGAIN?? (I can let it slide that defeating the culprit involves flashing them with a cheap prize from an ancient game in a decaying basement. It’s still so good).

11. Also, I have a print of this in my house right now because of this game. I don’t even know the artist, but I love it.

So thankful to rediscover my love for this game. Can it top Treasure in a Royal Tower and Dexter’s sexy, raspy voice? Maybe not. But it is up there.

Next stop: DC!

#nancy drew #nancy drew games #nancy drew pc games #pc gaming #herinteractive #the final rule #fin

[sitp-recs]

Hidden Gems by @moonflower-rose

September has been crazy, all those Christmas sex babies driving me up the wall but hello yes, here’s another bday gift this time for one of the coolest people in this fandom, Rosie Josephine Moonflower! Reading fics for this post was the easiest thing ever because I’ll never get enough of her fab writing, always bold and on point, full of wit, charm,brilliant characterization, hilarious dialogue and a lush take on sexy romance with all the feels. Rosie delivers my favourite combo of tropes with excellence every time, it’s really a crime that these fics don’t have as many kudos or comments as they deserve but I’m here to make things right!

For those who recognize her username from LJ, Rosie has been around for ages and we’re lucky to have her coming back to share new treats with us. She’s not only super talented but also has a fantastic grasp of Drarry flirting erm banter which is one of my favourite things in fic. I get so excited whenever I see a new story of hers, because I know it will be a fun ride mixing the best crack, angst, smut and romance we could ask for, satisfaction guaranteed. Imo her most delicious trademark is that unbeatable sense of humor, so charming it makes every fic become your new favourite thing with organic dynamics and cool, relatable characters. Her take on Ginny is especially dear to my heart as I came to admire and enjoy her presence in fics over the years.

Once you get to know Rosie it’s easy to see why her stories are so lovely and compelling - her cheerful, witty and no-nonsense personality is a delight to be around. Thank you Rosie for being a wonder and for gifting us with so many incredible fics! I can’t wait to see what comes next. I hope you have an incredible day!!! 🎉🎉

Counterparts (2005, Mature, 1k) - a brilliant and tender look into their life together, full of fun and small intimacies as we learn about this fabulously messy Draco through Harry’s smitten eyes. “Draco is demanding, but Harry is accommodating” is one of my favourite lines ever and I can’t stop thinking about it. What a treat!

Draco hogs the bed. Harry loves it.

Receipts (2022, Mature, 2k) - hands down one of the funniest, most charming short fics I’ve read this year, creative, sexy, with brOTP goals and Drarry + Ginsy combo! I adore the witty dialogue and sweet Harry making Draco blush. This is a perfect showcase of Rosie’s talent at short form, superb humor and characterization, you won’t be able to stop laughing your ass off :D

Pansy and Ginny have made a stupid wager and Draco may be the one who comes away a winner.

Breakfast (2006, Explicit, 3k) - never thought the idea of a naked Draco learning how to make Harry breakfast would get me all emo but here we are. Yet another delicious portrait of sexy, fun and tender domesticity, so lush and full of happy feels I can’t stop smiling! Come and feast 🥘

Breakfast is Harry's favorite part of the day.

The World of Management (Or, Harry Potter and the Office Romance) (2012, Explicit, 15k) - fabulous office romance with A+ push-pull banter and a chaotic smooth flirt Harry driving Draco mad with want and exasperation, what’s not to love? This is a must read for all those who enjoy Drarry & politics, light and fun, scorching hot and very sweet with a charming and confident tea lover Harry + competent bossy Draco, just as we like it. Can’t have enough of “oh, have a day off”/ “how dare you!”.

Draco Malfoy is the heart and soul of the Department of Magical Games and Sport. The only thing standing in the way of professional bliss is his boss. And Harry Potter.

In Dreams (2011, Explicit, 38k) - I’ll never stop screaming about Rosie’s opus, one of the most brilliant and intriguing case fics I’ve read with a breathtaking opening and superb character development and Drarry dynamics. Please please PLEASE read this today and come scream with me about your new favourite fic. You can check the rec I did for it here.

Harry wasn't expecting to ever see Draco Malfoy again. He also wasn't expecting to walk into a political conspiracy that morning either, but apparently that's exactly what the day has in store for him.

#happy bday Rosie 🎉🎉 #hidden gems s2

[jungshookz]

hey cee I think I’m aLso in my smitten!yn era

there’s this guy I met last year and he’s the sweetest dorkiest funniest darling ever and I think we get along really well. he lives quite far away so we’ve been facetiming a lot and (since we both play violin) sometimes we’ll call each other while we’re practicing and give each other feedback, or sometimes just listen to music and vibe and it’s the best thing ever. we also have a lot of inside jokes and we even have matching zebra plushies!! I just really really like him.

but he just told me like last week when we were calling that he was gonna go to his one friend’s graduation that’s happening on the 13th (and I think he’s traveling early to see her).

I have a feeling that he really likes her bc he always talks about how her siblings are like his own brothers and they just get along so nicely. this girl is also like the sweetest prettiest smartest person and she’s so nice and I also know her fairly well, so I could never wish ill on her bc she’s just,,,so so wonderful.

he’s also mentioned briefly that they had some sort of argument or falling out last fall (he didn’t seem to want to tell me so I didn’t push it) and that was when he kind of just shut off and didn’t answer to my texts or anyone else’s. so he plans to go to her house and surprise her and he seemed really excited about it (she had just texted him telling him they needed to ‘talk’—im assuming theyre gonna work out whatever’s been going on).

so I’m just kind of conflicted and sad bc for one I kind of feel like I’m living in someone else’s romcom—they really do have the perfect setup and deep down I know they’d be great together. I do feel like a second lead or whatever lmao. also he’s four years older than me and we just might be on different paths in life.

I’m just choosing to be happy for him and hope that he and the girl work out their disagreement or whatever happened between them, and that he has a lot of fun surprising her for the graduation. I know I’m probably just a friend to him and whatever I think is just in my head.

sorry to whoever is gonna read this, and if you made it this far thanks for listening <3 I’m not asking for any solution, just wanted to tell someone what I’ve been burying for a while. love you cee :)

okay people we really need to focus on our own traits and what we bring to the table and what we love about ourselves because yes other people may be sweet and kind and smart but WE ourselves are also sweet and kind and smart!!! i don't know if what i'm going to say is going to useful or even relevant to your situation but i have been getting a concerning number of 'cee i'm also in my smitten era' messages and I MUST SAY THIS

ever since my breakup i've been operating with the 'the universe will always lead me to where i need to be' mindset and just trusting the process and i think that if ur in ur smitten era you should also trust this mindset -- if you are not meant to be with this person, it just means that there's someone else out there who you haven't met yet that will think YOU are the sweetest kindest smartest person they've ever had the pleasure of knowing. we do not chase after people who don't want us and as hard as it was for me to understand this point (and tbh i'm still working on this) our self-worth and value is dependant on ourselves and nobody else. just because the person you like potentially may not like you back does not mean that you are not good enough or pretty enough or smart enough, i always chalk it up to a compatibility issue! and why the heck would you want to be with someone you aren't compatible with romantically!!! gosh darn it!!!! everyone needs to STAND UP i want everyone in this room to tell me what they love about themselves nAAoOWW

but also yes depending on how old you are a four year age difference is significant because like 18 and 22 or 19 and 23 for example are both SUCH different foundational ages (recently found out my ex just started dating a 19 year old and it skeeved me out a little so maybe i'm just biased) so you can be sad about this for as long as you need to but just know that perhaps this is for the best and you will find someone more compatible

#answered #ask cee #sorry this was so long

[im-just-a-br0adway-baby]

((This came to me from yet another Smosh video that read this story. Again, this is a crack fic and is not meant to be taken seriously. This also may or may not be a call-out fic to most of early Encanto fandom.))

It was a quiet Saturday night for the Madrigal triplets. Alma usually had her church events on Saturday nights, which left the triplets home alone for the night to do whatever they wanted. They already had dinner before Alma left, so they were not hungry at the time, but they did want a couple more of Julieta’s spare arepas while Bruno suggested that he read a story that he read online.

“Hey, Pepa, do you remember when I read you and Felix that story about that man who was upset because his son wasn’t dark skinned?” Bruno asked.

“Si, I remember, that was probably the funniest and most problematic story anyone has ever told me,” Pepa replied.

“Well, I found another story that I think will hit you even harder in the gut that I want to see your reaction to.”

Pepa felt an anxious feeling in her stomach, but was still intrigued. “I want to know what the story is now.”

She, Julieta, and Bruno made their way to the office and Bruno sat on the office chair to log into the computer. Julieta and Pepa sat in the spare chairs next to the desk. “The story is called ‘Am I The Assole For Privately Asking My Friend About The Paternity Of Her Children?’.”

Julieta and Pepa looked at each other, and then at Bruno. “I think I know where this is going, but I want to listen to the story anyway to see if my instincts are correct.”

Bruno opened the story on the computer and began reading. “Saw another post that reminded me of this situation. A few years ago, my close childhood friend gave birth to triplets. Her husband is a light black man. Of the three, two were the same skin tone as her husband, and the third was much darker. The skin tones made me a little suspicious that her husband might not be the father.”

Pepa sank down into the chair the second Bruno read the first paragraph. This story was going to go EXACTLY how she thought it was going to go. Julieta noticed her sister’s embarrassment and held her hand to encourage her to sit up.

“Are you okay, hermanita?” Julieta asked as Pepa sat up from her chair.

“I’m okay, it’s just that I know how the rest of the story’s going to go now,” Pepa explained.

“But I just read the first paragraph!” Bruno exclaimed.

“I know, but that doesn’t stop me from knowing!”

“Just let me finish please?”

“Fine; continue.”

“Okay; ‘I pulled her aside privately and asked her seriously if her husband was the father. She didn’t even listen or answer rationally, she just freaked out at me and acted super insulted and kicked me out.’”

“I would honestly do the same thing,” Pepa interrupted.

“Look, I’m not the one to be super offended over most things, but this is something I would be offended by. If someone I was close to for a long time questioned the paternity of my future children, when they know I’ve been in a happy marriage for several years, I would kick them out too,” Julieta explained.

“You took the words right out of my mouth, hermana.”

Bruno continued reading the story. “I reached out to her husband and told him about her reaction and told him he should get a paternity test and he called me an asshole and blocked me. Neither has spoken to me since.”

“The husband is doing the right thing, and so is the friend,” Julieta interrupted.

“If someone did this to Felix if we got married, I’m sure he would do the same thing,” Pepa explained.

“I’m sure Agustin would too.”

“I have no interest in getting married, but if I did get married, and a close friend of said wife messaged me this, I would also block them. If she hasn’t said anything to the wife, I would tell her and show her screenshots because she needs to know.” Bruno then continued reading the story to his sisters. “I’ve always thought that they dramatically overreacted and were probably hiding something because of their responses, but they’re married and sometimes I feel bad about what happened.”

“Hold on, why would they think they were hiding something?” Pepa asked.

“Because, at least I’ve noticed, when most people cheat, they tend to act all jittery if someone asks them about it because they’re scared someone’s going to find out. That happened to quite a lot of people from school when asked about cheating scandals. Remember?”

“I do remember when Valentina was caught in a cheating scandal when we were in high school and someone asked about it and she tried to avoid the question as much as she could. But there’s a major difference between multiple people talking about you cheating and getting jittery when someone asks about it, and getting offended when one person you’re close to assumes you cheat just because one of their triplets doesn’t look like the father.”

“That is true. It makes me wonder if mama was ever caught in a cheating scandal when we were born just because one of us looks different from our parents.”

“I don’t think she would be caught in that. She’s so involved in the church that no one would ever suspect mama of adultery.”

Bruno continued reading the story. “I just felt a lot of empathy for her husband because I would be devastated if I wasn’t confident that I was the father of my future children. Was I an asshole for asking privately?” He then paused for a couple of seconds. “There is an edit, but before I read it, what is your verdict?”

“Asshole,” Pepa said before Bruno could finish his sentence.

“I figured you’d think she was an asshole, and I would completely agree with you. I would also say asshole; mainly because Pepa has told me about everyone that was saying she wasn’t really our sister, and it made me just as angry,” Julieta explained.

“I would say asshole too because of how I’ve been hearing about this with Pepa too. And yes, the verdict is asshole, but I want to read the edit before reading some comments,” Bruno said before reading the edit at the bottom of the post. “Edit: Okay I get it I’m an asshole. I want to make it clear that I didn’t think the triplets had different fathers. I’m not an idiot. I thought it was possible, given the skin tone of the third triplet, that all three were fathered by a darker man and the first two were a bit lighter because my friend was very fair.”

“I’d still say asshole after that edit,” said Pepa.

“I would also still say asshole because of our personal experiences with this,” Julieta added.

“One hundred percent; I know that Pepa doesn’t have the same skin tone or hair color as either of us or mami and papi, and both of us have both of our parents’ features, but Pepa also has a lot of our parents’ features too, so thinking that the three of us have a different father would be too stupid to assume,” Bruno explained.

“Even with the fact that the mother was also as fair as the father it’s still a stupid assumption. There could still be a chance that he has a parent or even a grandparent that is darker in skin tone and it ended up popping up with the third triplet,” Pepa explained.

“Can we read some comments? I want to see some other points of view on this,” Julieta said.

“Sure; let’s read this one. ‘Dude. Genetics. One of his parents likely has a darker skin tone, and that came through in the grandchild. Not uncommon, super normal. You are a FLAMING asshole for this. I cannot give a bigger YTA’,” Bruno read.

“YTA?” Julieta asked curiously.

“It means You’re The Asshole,” Bruno explained.

“Ah, I understand now.”

“I cannot give a bigger You’re The Asshole either, commenter. It is super normal. Look at me and my family!,” Pepa commented to the computer screen.

“It sounds like this story has gotten you more fired up than the last one we read together,” Bruno pointed out.

“It has! Since I’m the one that’s usually put in this position and the last time it was Felix technically! GAH!”

Pepa started to pull her hair and roughly massage her scalp as she made the comment. Everything about the story Bruno read has infuriated her as much as the last story probably infuriated Felix, he was just better at controlling it. 

“Can we read one more comment?” Julieta asked.

“Sure, this one probably explains the best why she’s the asshole. ‘YTA; aside from the question being totally inappropriate, you clearly have no idea how the genetics of skin color works, at all. You didn’t question the paternity of her children, you accused her of cheating on her husband, and used your own ignorance to support the whole thing’.”

Pepa pointed at the computer screen in a more aggressive manner than she would usually. “That right there! That explained why this person was the asshole this entire time! I didn’t have the words for it but this person did! Gracias, stranger inside the screen!”

Julieta and Bruno could not help but laugh at their sister’s rage. One thing about Pepa’s rage fits that always intrigued her siblings was how funny they ended up being, even though Pepa never intended for them to be funny in the first place. It was one of their favorite things about her mood swings.

“Well, I’m guessing you had a ball with this, Pepa. Are you going to tell Felix about this story and read it to him?”

“Absolutely, Brunito, I think he’s going to have a ball with this story too, maybe not a much as I did, but he will.”

“Do you want to go upstairs and read some more on our phones? I'll bring some snacks,” Julieta said.

“Sure, there should be more funny stuff I can find that could even try to beat what we just read,” Bruno replied.

He then exited out of the tab on the computer and the triplets went upstairs to Bruno’s room to read more stories they could find. As much as none of them wanted to admit it, their best sibling bonding moments came from finding silly things together or sharing silly moments with each other. It reminded them that no matter what, and no matter how old they got, siblings will always be siblings.

#encanto #disney #disney encanto #disney's encanto #encanto fic #encanto fanfic #encanto fanfiction #bruno madrigal #pepa madrigal #julieta madrigal #madrigal triplets #young madrigal triplets #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au #encanto modern au #reddit stories #funny reddit stories #silly reddit stories #unhinged reddit stories #madrigal triplets shenanigans #la familia madrigal

[litgwritersroom]

Villa Vs. Villa

Part Two of All's Fair in Casa Amor.

read it on AO3 | chapter written by @i-boop-you

Day two of Casa life and it's time to get stuck into it as the Villa's go head to head during Challenge Time. The stakes are high for Astrid as things heat up between her and Bobby and Emily isn't ready to call it quits either.

| Part One |

“I’ve got a text! Islanders, prepare for the competition to heat up as you go head-to-head with the other Villa in a series of mini challenges. The winning Villa will be treated to a cocktail party this evening. Hashtag, turning up the heat, hashtag, all villa no filler, hashtag, villa vs villa.”

That stirred up the competition. Astrid had been chilling on the daybed with Ali and Blake, discussing their game plans. She had just finished filling them in on her night with Bobby, telling them between giggles and hand holding about their legs brushing up against one another, of them stealing closer inch by inch during the night, how she could still smell him, could still feel the warmth of his body during the cool night like he was still right beside her. Okay, she hadn’t said half of that. Mainly because she didn’t want anyone to accuse her of majorly laying it on.

They’re Casa Girls after all, and if there’s one thing about a Casa Islander that everyone thinks, it’s that they’re doing everything they can to stay in the competition.

Considering the position they’re in, who could blame them? And right now, with this particular lot of boys to try and convince, the most desirable option was obviously Bobby.

Besides being the most single boy, failing to spark a romantic connection with a single girl, everyone watching the show knew what a fan favourite he was. He was beloved, the entire nation was rooting for him to find someone, for every girl to turn around and realise he was the love of their life. Everyone wanted Bobby to find the right girl for him, so God forbid if the girl couldn’t match up to him.

What was there not to love about Bobby? He was hands down the funniest Islander, objectively the cutest boy in the Villa, and a categorical catch: he baked, he was hard-working, loyal, devoted, down-to-earth. How those other girls weren’t fighting among themselves for him, Astrid would never know.

Yet, Bobby was such a catch, that’s where the danger really lurked. How could Astrid prove herself among the new girls? How could she show that she wasn’t just using him for his popularity, for his ability to get her into the Villa so she had better footing to pursue who she really wanted?

Because there wasn’t anyone else she wanted. Not really. Bobby was her number one pick. Even before she knew she was going on Love Island, Bobby was the stand out, exactly the type of boy she needed in her life.

And not just because he’d bake her the perfect pastries.

All Astrid had to do was win him over. And his friends. And the nation. Easy fucking peasy.

The other trio of girls came over from where they had been gossiping on the swing, and all six of them cooed and cawed over one another, tripping over who was the most excited.

Astrid caught Emily’s eye and the pair smiled at once another, but there wasn’t anything nice about it. Emily also had her eye on Bobby, and she hadn’t been quiet about it.

From the moment the girls arrived and had their first sit down chit-chat, Emily made it clear to them all that Bobby was hers and she wasn’t about to lose him to anyone. Astrid sat there, smiling and nodding, and sizing up the competition. There was a streak in Emily that Astrid hadn’t liked at all, and if anything, she wanted to spare Bobby from that. If Astrid was the right sort for Bobby, Emily was the wrong sort.

What basis did Astrid have besides they both wanted the same man? Well. It’s a competition, and Bobby can only pick one of them, if he picks either. Emily may not have been used to losing, but neither was Astrid, and her first trick was never to give the game away.

Before Astrid could sit down next to Bobby, Emily planted her bony butt on the sun lounger by his side, somehow taking up all the remaining space that fit a whole adult lying down. Astrid would call her lard arse if there was anything back there at all.

Rolling her eyes behind her sunglasses, Astrid took a seat on the lounger next to them, sitting with a space between herself and Bobby on the same lounger as Henrik. Bobby turned slowly toward her, a grin climbing slowly on his face, something he never showed when Emily sat next to him.

“Fancy seeing you again so soon,” he joked, sitting with his legs open and his elbows resting on his thighs. He was leaning forward, and bowed closer to converse.

Astrid followed his lead, letting her tanned legs spread into the space in front of them, innocently tangling them into his ‘bubble’ thanks to the angled position of her sun lounger. She leant towards him shoulder first to reply, “What can I say? You were such good company last night, I guess I’m just missing you.”

The game was beginning, garnering everyone’s attention. Bobby tore his eyes off of her with a smile on his face. Was it the heat or was Mr McKenzie blushing?

It took a lot for Astrid to glance away, and she only did so after brushing her leg up behind his calves. Bobby adjusted as Lucas introduced the game, letting Astrid slide her leg between his from behind. Flirting with no words, not even looking at one another. Yeah, Astrid was a-winning here.

Just as Lucas wrapped up the rules, Emily pounced on Bobby, clutching his arm, and excitedly getting in his face. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun! Promise to partner up if we need to?”

Astrid couldn’t see his face, but her elation soured as she heard him replying, “Sure.”

Ding.

A text came through on Siobahn’s phone. Half the Islanders were shouting at her to read it before she could even open her phone, acting like that’s not what she was going to do immediately.

“The boy and girl whose names come last alphabetically must snog for fifteen seconds,” she read out, arms flapping before she’d even finished her sentence, like she expected them to already be on their feet…

She was half right, Gary, Shannon, Ali, and Lucas were already up, ready for action.

As a mix of “Go, go, go!” was thrown across the garden, lots of fingers were pointing as they tried to work it out. It was like they were only half in competition with Casa Amor, and half in competition with each other to be the fastest to figure out who the texts were talking about. It was nearly as amusing as it was when they finally figured out it was Siobhan and Noah, and Siobahn went careering across the grass towards Noah.

He looked pretty terrified, truth be told. By the time Siobhan reached him, Noah had one arm out blocking her path to his lips.

“Whoa, whoa, hang on,” he said, granting himself more than a couple bewildered looks from the others. “I don’t know if I want to be kissing anyone else, like … I don’t want to hurt Hope.”

“What do you mean?” Gary barked across at him, standing, holding his arms out like Noah was trying to argue that pineapple went on pizza. “What do you flipping think Hope is doing over at Casa Amor?”

That’s when the next text came through. Already Siobahn’s shoulders were slumping. “Casa Amor won,” she read, eliciting a loud groan from everyone else.

“It’s all right, mate, it’s just a game,” Ibrahim said, reaching over to consoling pat Noah on the arm.

“That would have been Priya, right?” Shannon said, loud and clear, looking around for confirmation for what she already knew. Astrid saw the way Shannon’s gaze landed on a now thoroughly glum looking Ibrahim while she added, “Looks like the other Villa aren’t messing around.”

Ding.

This time it was Gary’s phone that went off. He sped out the words, “One boy and one girl have thirty seconds to act out as many sex positions as they can!” He was practically dancing on the spot, jumping from foot to foot.

Ali was right next to him. Without a thought, Gary threw down his phone, grabbing Ali’s arm instead. He tossed her right onto the grass, getting into position behind her for doggy. As everyone else roared out, “ONE!”, the pair of them rolled into their next position.

Half the Islanders were counting them out as the other shrieked different, easy, positions for them to try out, but thanks to Gary trying to show off his favourite position, several seconds were wasted. The only victory there was that it made Ali cackle and when they were done, they sat budged up so much closer to one another than before.

It was another loss for the group, though.

“Come on, guys, get with it,” Lucas said, spurring them all on. “We’re trying to win this thing.”

“All right then, pretty boy, you do the next one,” Gary said, probably his idea of being snarky.

When the next text came through, Lucas didn’t back down. It wasn’t one that required a whole load of effort though. All he had to do was stand there as a girl doused him in lipstick mark kisses.

Blake was the lucky girl thanks to Ali and Astrid. Ali had a tube of lipstick already on her, and Astrid already had plans of throwing Blake to Lucas the moment Gary piped up with his brilliant suggestion.

Cheekily, Blake kissed all over Lucas’ face and chest, littering him in shades of ‘Come to Bed Red’. She began at the top, as everyone counted each smack of her lips, getting dozens all over his face before moving down, and eventually ended up on her knees, a position she most likely was pretty familiar with. She was running out of room in her current state, and with the seconds whittling down, Blake clasped the lining of Lucas’ trunks and inched them down.

Eyes wide, he looked directly at the boys. He was blushing as they nearly all fell out of their seats at Blake’s gall.

When their win was announced, Astrid couldn’t help but call out, “I think that was a personal win for you both, too, right? Lucas, just you remember how happy Blake made you when she got down on her knees.”

“You pipe down, you cheeky sort,” he threw back at her, giving her a look.

In another life, maybe Lucas would have been Astrid’s target. He was mighty fine looking, rich, and had his life together. Shame there was someone else who managed to put Lucas in the shadows.

Henrik got the next text. “The boy and girl whose name’s start with the same letter must kiss.”

Before most of them could say so much as, “Who -?” Shannon was on her feet, screaming at the top of her lungs, “BOBBY AND BLAKE.”

Bobby and Blake both looked terrified, and still wore those looks of startledom as they ran across the grass to one another. They crashed into one another in a decidedly unromantic fashion. The kiss was purely strategic, that was clear.

With no time frame on the kiss, they broke apart after about five seconds. They went back to their seats without a look at each other, like it was nothing more than business, and business they were rather glad to be done with at that.

It was another victory, making it a tie so far. Everything was still to play for. So when the next text came through, BOOM, the competitive among them really started coming through. Three Islanders had to top and tail in a bed, so Gary, Ibrahim, and Ali leap onto the wall that separated the garden from the daybeds and settled themselves in. Everyone was up on their feet, arms half raised to celebrate already, when a text chimed through telling them they lost.

“What?!” Gary shot up from the daybed. “Impossible, we literally did that in seconds! No way!”

“It took a while for the text to come through, so maybe it wasn’t the daybeds, but the ones inside?” Siobhan suggested.

There was a collective groan at their own stupidity on that one. By the look of it, it made Gary far more determined to win.

The next phone to pop off was Astrid’s. Before she knew what she was doing, the surge of excitement had her on her feet, already screaming the words to everyone, “Kiss the three Islanders you fancy the most!”

Astrid had Bobby, her lips were on his lips before she could even register the shock on his face. She didn’t have time to think about it, to appreciate the electrified drumming of her heart at this. In one moment she was being told to kiss who she fancied most, in the next it was just Bobby, all Bobby, and there was nothing more to it. She grinned stupidly as she pushed away, darting off to the next guy.

Noah was sitting down, so Astrid was on his lap as she kissed him. Just as Noah was sinking into it, taking her by the waist, she was up on her feet again and falling into Lucas, her arms wrapping around his neck to stop herself from falling flat on her back. He held her around the waist as everyone cheered at them completing the dare.

Astrid still had her phone in her hand, the alert coming through, breaking her focus from her kiss. After a quick check, she turned to the group, arms in the air, “The Villa won!”

The win stirs them on even more, and while Emily got the next text (“Three Islanders must jump naked into the pool!”), Astrid plonked back in her seat, only half eyeing Henrik, Gary, and Ali bombing it to the water, already leaving behind discarded items of clothes.

Just as Gary’s hairy ass disappeared with a splash, Astrid said to Bobby, “Sorry, I hope you don’t mind me just grabbing you like that. Time was of the essence, and I assure you that a proper kiss from me is of much higher quality. That’s an Astrid guarantee.”

He grins, clapping along with the others as the three butt naked Islanders splash about in the pool.

“Is that a promise?” Bobby replied.

With a wink, Astrid said, “Sure is. I’m already wishing I had saved the best for last.”

“There’s still time yet, you could have another kiss.”

“Here’s hoping.”

“THE VILLA WINS!” Emily roars, standing on the sun lounger to give herself some much needed height.

Up next the two oldest Islander’s have to kiss, so Lucas and Siobhan come crashing into each other from direct opposite sides of the grass. 

“Another win for the Villa!” Noah tells them.

The next text comes through on Bobby’s phone. “One Islander must give another a piggyback ride around the pool.”

And like that, Emily is on top of Bobby. Literally. Her unexpected and awkward play at him sends them both to the ground in front of Astrid. By the time they get to their feet, Gary has Ali on his back and is already darting off with her, leaving the other’s in the dust.

Bobby laughs it off, helping a blushing Emily back into her seat.

“Sorry guys!” She says, “I guess I was just so excited to get going.”

“Guess I just need to be made of stronger stuff,” Bobby laughs, then blanches, turning to Emily like he’s seen a ghost. “That’s not a comment about you, by the way. I’m just - I'm obviously not as jacked as the other guys.”

“Don’t worry about it, Bobby,” Astrid says. “We all know you weren’t saying that. You just need to look at Emily to know there’s nothing to her.”

When she said it, she locked eyes with Emily from behind Bobby.

“That’s right,” Emily said. “There’s definitely heavier girls here. If I knocked you off your feet, imagine what Astrid would have done to you.”

With a giggle, Astrid took Bobby’s hand, being obviously flirty, and said, “Don’t worry, if I got you on your back, it would be far more graceful, and no one would be apologising about it.”

Bobby grinned back at her while Emily’s already rosy complexion flushed even brighter.

They miss the next text coming through, saying Shannon has to give one of the boys a lap dance. She doesn’t hesitate to stride up to Ibrahim, spinning her voluptuous ass in his face before dipping low to give him an eye-full.

Astrid began a clap, giving Shannon a beat to dance to. It was fair to say that she killed it, and judging from Ibrahim’s lip bite, he was living for it.

Henrik got the next dare, being instructed to make one of the girls blush. He practically sat in Astrid’s lap by the time he made it to her, a saucy look on his face, but -

His face dropped, he looked lost, stunned, at a loss, chin wobbling, he was floundering, floundering -

“HENRIK, COME ON!” Gary roared, on his feet and jumping like he was headering a ball.

“Dahhhhh,” Henrik mused, then locked eyes with Bobby.

Bobby shook his head. “Don’t look at me, mate.”

“Wait, wait!” Ali cheered, jumping up next to Gary and gripping his arm in her excitement. “Look at Astrid! Look at her! She’s blushing! She’s actually blushing!”

“Oh, well,” Astrid mumbled with all eyes on her, “I mean, I’m not flustered, but I guess I’m pretty embarrassed for you, Henrik. Sorry.”

“Ah, no worries, I’m embarrassed for myself…” He replied, already slinking off.

As he turned his back to her, Astrid sucked in her lips to keep herself from laughing, but that resolve fell apart the moment she caught Bobby’s eye. He was the first to break, a horse of a laugh blowing up his cheeks. Astrid had to duck her head down, knocking into Bobby, to hide herself. When they got to gathering themselves back up, somehow, Astrid was inching onto his sun lounger. Their knees were clinking together, legs worked up against one another’s, the heat of their skin burning hot, electric.

In the end, they lost that round, even though Henrik did get Astrid to blush, however unconventionally.

Their fingers were just splaying together, inching into holding hands, when the next text came through.

“The shortest girl and tallest girl must kiss! Go, go, go!”

Blake was screaming Astrid’s name, so Astrid shot up, ready to go. Nothing else registered until Noah was in front of her, clutching her head and stroking her neck as he had his second kiss with her. It was full of drive, but lacked a spark of passion.

Overall, yes, the kiss was good, but Astrid thought it would be a whole lot better if it wasn’t for a timed challenge. When they broke apart, the first thing Astrid saw was Emily, hunkering at her side.

“You idiot, you’re not the shortest!” Emily said.

“Whoa, harsh!” Ali shouted, a crease forming between her brows.

“What? I didn’t mean it like that,” Emily went on, reaching for Astrid’s hand. “We’re friends! It’s all banter! Right, hun?”

“Whatever you say, hunny bun,” Astrid replied, already flouncing off from Emily.

She sat down next to Bobby, budging up close to him, leaning in so much that she knocks into him. Bobby shifts to allow her better access, his hand coming down to rest on the lounger behind her, making them look very, very cosy with one another.

“Islanders,” Lucas reads out. “Everyone must suck another Islanders toe.”

He was on his knees, grabbing a hold of Blake’s foot before most of the others had time to register this new horror.

A giggling Astrid was just reaching for Bobby’s when his other foot was swiped away by Emily. She said to Bobby, “You said we could do the couples one together!”

“Oh … yeah, I did…” He says, throwing a sorry look to Astrid.

Astrid smiled in reply. “No worries.” In the end she ended up with Siobahn’s nicely taken care of foot in her mouth. It was either that or risk a hairy toe of Noah or Henrik’s. One risk she wasn’t going to take was letting Emily walk all over Bobby. Who knew how many dares were left? Astrid wasn’t about to be caught out again.

Wouldn’t you know it, the next dare was Seven Minutes in Heaven. Before the whole text could be read out, Astrid had Bobby’s hand in hers, and was pulling him up, dragging him to the wall behind them. The pair climbed up, giggling like idiots, and ran to the pantry in the kitchen.

Slamming the door shut behind them, they were enclosed in nothing but darkness, but Astrid had everything she needed. She had Bobby exactly where she wanted him.

“So, I think I had a promise I need to deliver on?”

She locked her lips on his, taking her time, they weren’t in as much of a rush, had no one to perform for, no eyes on them. This was just for them, theirs.

It started slow, Astrid could taste a hint of his toothpaste from that morning, and that was before she got her tongue stuck in. She opened up the kiss, taking him deeper, allowing her tongue to find his. They met. They paused, allowing the electricity of the touch to tickle through their bodies.

Her hands were on his hips, her thumbs rubbing into the dips of his abdomen. She fully expected him to be feeling heightened sensations down there, and was fully counting on it. She could feel his lower half twitching, giving him away to her, letting her know her tricks were working.

She let one hand work into his dreads, letting her fingers explore. He moaned into her, and it stirred her for more, her body aching to press harder, for him to touch her in a way that he wouldn’t in front of the other’s.

There was a brisk chap at the door before it was flung open. Gary stood there with the most mischievous grin on his face.

“Well, well, well,” he said cockily, “look what we’ve got here.”

An equally grinning Bobby tugged at Astrid’s hand. “Come on.”

They took their seats like that, holding hands and unable to wipe the smiles from their faces, and remained like that for the rest of the game, right up and through the winning announcement.

Of all the outcomes, no one had expected it to land on a draw. So both Villa’s ended up with the cocktail party, so it was a win-win all around. They were all in high spirits as it came time to get dolled up for the evening’s party.

“So, how are we feeling girls?” Siobhan asked when they were all gathered around doing their make-up. “Who feels like they’re on to a winner?”

Astrid clocks Emily watching her. She was in the midst of applying her lashes so she didn’t bother sparing her more than half a second of a glance back.

“I’ve been getting on really well with Lucas,” Blake announced as she dusted her cheeks with blush. “I’m pretty surprised by him to be honest, but I’ve got no complaints so far.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think Gary would be this open, but he’s really come out of his shell today,” Ali chimed in with a big smile.

“I think all the boys have,” Siobhan remarked. “Maybe not Noah, but he’s just reserved anyway. Wasn’t expecting Rahim to be so into it, though. He’s been all over you Shannon.”

Shannon grinned, but left it at that.

“How’s the Bobby War coming along?” Siobhan went on.

 “War?” Emily blinked, purposefully turning herself to Siobahn in a way that cut Astrid out. “There’s no war with Bobby. He’s mine.”

“I don’t know, Em,” Siobhan replied. “He was pretty cosy with Astrid, and don’t forget that she never revealed who her top three boys were yesterday when we asked.”

“I think the game revealed who they are though,” Shannon said. “She snogged Bobby, then Noah, then Lucas when asked to kiss who she fancied the most. That might not be the order she fancies them most though, she might have just done closest proximity.”

“Bobby’s obvi the number one, though. She practically dragged him into that cupboard.”

“She’s betting on the same horse, Em.”

“You guys realise Astrid is right here?” Ali asked, frowning at the other three.

Emily sighed contentedly, folding her arms over the vanity, getting the small space where no make-up is scattered about. With a condescending smirk, she leant across to Astrid, and said, “Advice from a friend, but I’d back out now.”

“Advice from someone who doesn’t give a fuck,” a grinning Astrid retorted, a cunning look in her eye, “but Bobby’s his own man, and he can make up his own mind. If you’re worried about competition, I don’t think any of us are going after Henrik. He might be your best bet, babes, and what a sweet guy, too. You’ll for sure be safe with him.”

Emily’s eyes went wide, but otherwise she never flinched. The other girls were all silent.

“I’m not scared of competition,” she said.

“That’s another difference between you and me then, babe, because while I’m also not afraid of competition, I fucking welcome it.”

With that, Astrid got to her feet, ready for the night. In her heels, she towered over the sitting girls, all eyes on her. She looked stunning, even if she said so herself (which she did).

“See you girls down there,” Astrid added with a chirply little laugh that was one hundred percent fake. Pinching Emily on the shoulder as she passed, Astrid added, “Good luck, bestie.”

The evening began with a lot of chatter and a load of cocktails flowing. Astrid bigged up Bobby by persuading him to make them his signature Bobbyfish. When they got their first one down them, leading Bobby into making another batch, that was when they finally got the chance to detach from the main group.

Bobby led them to the swing just off from the kitchen. They sat close together, Bobby bringing one arm up along the back of the seat, stretching it out to run behind the back of her neck.

“So that was some challenge today,” he said. His gaze drifted off, his voice losing a lot of the liveliness it held back when they were laughing and joking in the kitchen in front of the others.

“Wasn’t it?” Astried replied. “I really liked that it brought you out of your shell a little bit more. I mean, you’re always up for a laugh, but you seemed a little out of it yesterday. Shock to the system?”

The corners of his mouth inch up. “Something like that. In a way, it does feel like I’m starting over again, that I’m being given another chance to enjoy the Love Island experience. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t expect to come in here and have girls falling at my feet, but I thought by now … there would be someone.”

Astrid nodded. “I’m both relieved and astounded that you’ve not found a connection with anyone yet. You’re such an easy guy to get on with.”

With a chuckle, he said, “That’s my fatal flaw. I’m too easy to get along with, get myself stuck in a friendship before I can even realise if that’s what I want.”

“Oh? Is there … is there someone you have feelings for? One of the girls in Casa Amor?”

For the first time, he holds her gaze. “No. Not in the slightest.” His chest heaved, and he swallowed hard. “I honestly didn’t have high hopes that I’d come out of Casa Amor with anything other than some more friendships. I’m still not so sure…”

“What aren’t you sure about?”

“Heeyyyy.”

Ugh. Emily. She appeared out of thin air, like a poltergeist, ready to wreak havoc.

“Bobby, I couldn’t have a chat with you when you’ve got a second?” She asked, peering over them like she’s nervous.

“Oh yeah sure, I’m chatting to Astrid right now but I’ll give you a shout when we’re finished up,” he replied.

“Oh okay, no rush!”

Astrid smiled as fakely as she could and waved Emily off with a small flap of her fingers. With their conversation now interrupted, Astrid saw it was a golden opportunity to shift closer to him. Bobby mirrored her, shuffling close enough that there was no gap between them.

“So,” Bobby said, averting his gaze from her again, but this time, he didn’t sound so nervous about it, “I think it’s fair to say you’ve got your eye on me, right? Do you mind me asking you how come?”

She grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Are you kidding, Bobby McKenzie? I have never seen a man who’s more of a catch than you are. You are joking, right?” They both bubbled up with laughter. “Name me a man better than you.”

“My dad’s pretty cool, but he’s married, so I’m afraid I’m the closest you’ll get.”

“I’ll take that.”

And Astrid went in for it, slowly closing that last gap, sinking into him again. They kissed right there, no qualms about the others or the cameras, nothing. This was the biggest statement they could make, securing Astrid’s claim to him, and Bobby’s stakes with her.

More importantly, it was the sweetest kiss Astrid had had. The sweetness of the cocktail trickled onto her tongue, her puckered lips were open for all of him, the simpleness of it all making her feel alive at the slightest touch.

For Astrid, it was Bobby McKenzie or nothing.

Part Three.

“Look, Bobby, I like Marisol. I like Hope. I like Lottie. But you’ve got to think of the reality, here. Shannon ran me through the strategy. You’re not going to get a flashing neon sign telling you they’ve moved on. You’re just going to have to–”

Lucas’s phone chimed, and he reached for it as the others looked up at him expectantly. “Oh… it’s a video.”

#litg #litg fanfic #love island the game #litg writers room #writers room #litg season 2 #prompt #litg bobby #writing prompt #chapter two #alls fair in casa amor #afica

[ronearoundblindly]

The Stark Legacy (14)

Rusted, part of Book Two: Mind (see previous or series)

Summary: Bruce tasks Bucky with taking extra baggage to Wakanda while Sam Wilson recovers.

Warnings for tough (but vague) talk about past accidents and physical trauma. Rated Teen/Mature so 15+ only, please.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN—August 2038

“I don’t think I should leave if something is wrong,” Bucky said, staring in at Sam Wilson reading a book while getting blood drawn in the lab.

“It’s not really…wrong. He just…” Bruce replied. He couldn’t explain it. Wilson adjusted holding his book with the hand not being stuck, showing the title Total Applications of Quantum Field Theory.

Bucky pressed a finger against the two-way glass. “You don’t see anything wrong with that?” He scoffed, partly concerned for his friend, partly annoyed to be the chauffeur to a teen on a trip across the world. “Seriously?”

“Am I supposed to be panicked he’s got different interests since waking up? That’s not uncommon with head injury—”

Bucky fumed. “Everything weird is common with head injuries, apparently, because you people don’t know anything about them. It’s 2038!”

“You people? I think…I should be offended.” Bruce may have been completely jaded to ‘smartist’ mockery, but he also loved the chance to study such an extensive turnaround of Sam Wilson’s recovery. The patient remained irritable, sarcastic, and alert with full motor-function. He had occasional headaches but, most bizarrely, had developed not only an interest in but the ability to understand all sorts of scientific studies quickly. “Look, Bucky, you won’t be able to do anything if it is wrong anyway. No offense. It’s not something you can just—” Bruce slowly swung his fist through the air, making a small ‘pow’ noise.

“Don’t do that,” Bucky said flatly.

Bruce pursed his mouth. He was definitely not the funniest Avenger, but he did try every so often, usually failing and immediately retreating to a cave of algorithms to plot his next joke. The team repeatedly called it ‘cute;’ Hulk didn’t like that distinction either. Hulk had toppled cities for less.

“I’ve got a couple data sets and stuff for Shuri, too. Let’s load up the quinjet and get you on the way. Looks like Little Sam is coming up the drive now,” Bruce continued, pointing out the far window.

Bucky groaned. The ball-capped girl trudged down the lane with two massive hard suitcases. She was barely big or strong enough to maneuver them, yet he watched as she waved off one of the security members who came over to help her. The guard pointed her in the direction of the landing pad. Stubborn, Bucky internally groaned, just like good ol’ Pa. Bruce returned to shove a box of odds and ends against Bucky’s chest. The doctor looked at him seriously for a moment.

“I’m glad it’s you taking her. Also, don’t mention the,” and he waved a hand over his head. “Fair warning.”

Even though it was not necessary, Bucky made Sam strap herself into the chair up front, damned if he would be responsible for any other injury on Stark’s daughter. The two were quiet for all of takeoff, and they’d flown over nothing but water for a while before Bucky glanced over.

Samantha sat tucked up like a rolly-polly, craning her neck to look out the window curiously.

“You look like you’ve never flown before. Natasha’s taken you in one of these, hasn’t she?”

“I’ve never crossed an ocean,” the girl replied in a voice so small he could hardly hear it.

That was a quaint notion. The Avengers bounced from continent to continent almost daily, occasionally planet to planet even, and Sam was afraid of a body of water. She rubbed her hands over her arms, stopping only to rub her legs. However, she still looked on, fascinated.

“Alright,” Bucky finally broke in after another half hour, “I’m gonna ask what I’m not supposed to.”

Samantha looked up at him, shocked but quiet. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Are you harming yourself?” He regretted asking the second the words came out, but then he felt the impulse to double down. “I’m asking because the hair, and the scars on your arm, and the limp.”

“Those weren’t from—” Sam cut herself off. “No, Captain Barnes, I do not harm myself on purpose,” she chimed systematically.

His eyes flickered back over to her at the distinctive choice of words.

Sam looked at her feet. “There was an accident. The Bartons like to bike, motorcycles and dirt bikes specifically. I am…terrible at it, so the last time we did, I was behind Nate on his Ducati, and we crashed.”

“Why does Tony not know about this?”

“I was 14, and that was the day Clint told me Tony was sending me to boarding school. I…said some—I screamed several choice things and ran off. Nate came to find me, even though he was a jerk about it, and I got on his bike to go home.”

She stretched out her legs into a seated position. “When we were close enough to see Clint waving us back over, Nate raised his hand to waive and hit a ditch, but see, we were right by a bit of a hill. I went flying when Nate skid trying to correct us. They said I smacked a tree—” Sam grabbed her left arm, “—and then my momentum and weight snapped my leg.”

Bucky tried to imagine the absolute horror for the Bartons. If Bucky was so worried about strapping her in for one flight, how anxious must Clint have been… He knew immediately why someone wouldn’t tell Tony, if it was at all possible to hide it.

“Compound fracture of the left humerus. Compound fracture of the left femur. Damage to the growth plate, so my left leg stopped growing at age 14, resulting in a now one inch difference in length. I tried not to listen when they said how many pins were in there. I stared at the ceiling. They made Nat,” Sam swallowed, “explain why we couldn’t tell him. So I didn’t go to boarding school, and after four months I went to Harvard with Cooper. Well, I lived there.”

Bucky knew that stare, the one where you know the past can’t change so you stopped reliving it, the one where you try over and over to accept the hand you’re dealt, the one where you remember everything and feel nothing. Steve used to pull him out by recalling baseball stats incorrectly. Bucky would always snap out to rub his knowledge in that punk’s face. He could try a version of that on Sam Stark, something else for them to talk about.

“What’s quantum field theory?”

She didn’t change her gaze but scrunched her nose in thought. “Um, like which area do you want? Electromagnetic? Chromodynamic?”

Well, that was nice while it lasted, Bucky thought, already lost. 

“Do you know what normalization is?” she continued.

So she couldn’t pick up on hints either… “How about like I’m from the 1940s,” Bucky requested.

“Well, they knew some bits in the 20s—” 

Bucky frowned on purpose, deeply, comically.

“Right. Basically,” Sam thought out loud, making a roundabout motion with her hands, “how… stuff interacts within a—where it is.”

“What stuff?”

“Subatomic particles.”

“Ok, and we’re done with that.” Bucky had zero intention of going back to the shrunken feeling of not following the teacher in school, but he could still gain some context for Falcon. “How smart do you need to be to understand that stuff?”

Sam sat, confused. “That’s not a quantifiable question. It’s not a specific neural requirement.”

“Nineteen-forties—”he reminded through gritting teeth.

“It’s my personal belief that you can learn anything if you have the right teacher. If you make the subject relatable and applicable to something in your life, you remember it. So instead of starting with quantum field theory, you could begin with the psychological field theory or how people interact with where they are.”

Although a perfectly reasonable association, Bucky snorted. “You don’t get out much, do you?”

“You know that I don’t. Why else would I be so excited to leave the country I’ve been in my whole life?”

“Is that why you’re so…fidgety?”

“No.” She continued to scratch and shift in her seat.

“Do you have a rash?”

“Why did you ask about field theory? Uncle Bruce need a book club buddy or something?”

“Sam, I mean, Big Sam was reading a book.” 

Samantha’s eyes grew wide, and her head snapped over to look at him. To his surprise, she seemed just as concerned as he was. 

“Thank you! That’s weird, right?”

“He…” She tried to get a spot behind her right shoulder blade. “You mean, he can follow—he is learning very quickly?”

“Essentially. It’s like he woke up and was smarter.”

“I feel like Big Sam would be a little offended—”

“That’s not what I mean,” Bucky sighed, but Sam had already quieted.

“So,” she began after a long pause, “how worried are you?”

“It’s not exactly a health risk, to be smarter, but I just—what else could change?”

Lil'Sam remained silent this time, holding one arm against her chest, seemingly lost in thought. When Bucky’s eyes flicked over to see if she was even still sitting there, he saw her staring at him. He looked again. She wasn’t staring at him per se, but her eyes were fixed on his metal arm. Loads of people still stared at the arm, so in public, he covered it with clothes and a glove. He thought back to the wedding. He’d been covered; she couldn’t have seen it then. Didn’t she already know about it? Suddenly, he wished he’d worn more cover than a tank top even if it was summer and they were flying to an African nation close to the equator. Why would Sam still be wearing sweats? He glanced again. She was still clutching her left arm against her.

“Are you in pain?” Bucky asked.

Sam snapped back to reality, suddenly guilty and ashamed of her rudeness. She didn’t convey the same in her response, abruptly announcing, “I’m tired. Can I go lie down?” She didn’t wait for a response, either, and unbuckled to rush back into the jet’s cargo area.

Teenagers, Bucky thought.

[Ch 15: Judgment]

[Main Masterlist]

#tony stark fanfiction #alternate universe #avengers endgame #slow build #slow burn #tony stark's daughter #original female character #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #the stark legacy #series #mistress the AI #bucky barnes fanfiction #bruce banner fanfiction #sam wilson fanfiction #marvel au #mcu au #marvel fanfic #comic crossover

[ogsherlockholmes]

Charles Augustus Milverton

I said I wasn’t finished talking about this story because it is literally perfect 

Surprisingly for me, I’m going to skip over the whole ‘Watson and Sherlock regularly go for evening walks together’ and go to the actual plot because it is  very interesting. CAM is a really well-written villain, I don’t like him of course because he’s kind of creepy, but that’s essentially the point of him. Compared to the other ACD villains, he’s one of the ‘better’ ones, if you can use that term. Moving on to how this woman came and SHOT him, repeatedly might I add, whilst saying ‘You will ruin no more lives as you ruined mine. You will wring no more hearts as you wrung mine. I will free the world of a poisonous thing. Take that, you hound, and that! - and that!- and that!’. Then GRINDS HER HEEL IN HIS FACE. And gets away with it all. 

Do people say girl boss on here because girl boss. 

I’m not sure what her names was (I don’t know if it was implied she was Lady Bracknell) but she’s my favourite character from the short stories and I am very annoyed that I haven’t seen her in an adaptation yet. (Please tell me if she was in one). 

Whilst she’s murdering him, Sherlock and Watson are just watching behind a curtain, like ‘yep, okay, she’s good, we’ll leave her to it.’ At the end they see her picture in a shop. Basically Sherlock’s reaction:

Moving on to...the beginning, I might have interpreted it wrong, but I’m pretty sure it’s implied that Watson is fully prepared to smash Milverton with a fucking chair because Sherlock wants to stop him from leaving. 

‘I picked up a chair, but Holmes shook his head and I laid it down again.’

Then the greatest scene probably ever written in the entire canon, when Sherlock casually says he’s engaged and about to become a criminal. 

This is a quick summary:

Sherlock: You don’t think I’m the type of person to get married?

Watson: No (sad because if Sherlock was he would have married him)

Sherlock: I’m engaged.

Watson: ...I mean great-

Sherlock: To Milverton’s housemaid

Watson: W H A T

Sherlock: Well, yeah, I need information. She wasn’t my type but anyway. Also I’m going to rob Milverton

Watson: THATS EVEN WORSE

Sherlock: I’ve thought it through, it’s fine

Then in the funniest passage where Sherlock thinks if he says ‘morally justifiable’ enough it will convince Watson. And it works. 

[Exact quote this time I promise]

“Well, I don’t like it; but I suppose it must be,” said I. “When do we start?” “You are not coming.” “Then you are not going,” said I. “I give you my word of honour—and I never broke it in my life—that I will take a cab straight to the police station and give you away unless you let me share this adventure with you.” “You can’t help me.” “How do you know that? You can’t tell what may happen. Anyway, my resolution is taken. Other people beside you have self-respect and even reputations.”

Also, when Sherlock agrees:

“Well, well, my dear fellow, be it so. We have shared the same room for some years, and it would be amusing if we ended by sharing the same cell. You know, Watson, I don’t mind confessing to you that I have always had an idea that I would have made a highly efficient criminal. This is the chance of my lifetime in that direction.”

I hate to be that person (I don’t) but ‘room’ in singular. Also I like how Watson is literally confessing to all the readers in the canon for robbery. Mr ‘oh I can’t discuss that case because it’s too sensitive soz guys’ goes into extreme detail about how they would rob the house, with Sherlock being very thorough and prepared.  

Anyway, I’ve already made a post about Sherlock and Watson literally holding hands as they break into a house, as you do, but for shits and giggles I’ll just write them out again. 

‘He seized my hand in the darkness.‘

‘Still holding my hand in one of his.’

‘“I don’t like it,” he whispered, putting his lips to my very ear.’

‘I felt Holmes’s hand steal into mine.‘

(They’re in a greenhouse for some of these quotes, and I’m not entirely sure on this, but I think I remember seeing that greenhouses can be a metaphor for homosexuality? Sorry if I’m wrong, I might just be making this up.)

As I’ve said, they watch Milverton be blasted to hell by the original girl boss, as I will now be referring to her, and they escape. Sherlock jumps over a garden wall, naturally, and Watson tries to follow but someone catches his leg so he kicks them. 

The next day, Sherlock and Watson casually have breakfast like the married couple they are, and Lestrade visits. This is the gist of the scene:

Lestrade: We need your help, someone’s been murdered. 

Sherlock: oH mY gOd ReAlLy? oH nO!

Lestrage: Yeah, Charles Augustus Milverton. We already know one of the murderers though [describes Watson]

Sherlock: HA HA HA IT COULD BE WATSON LOL okay it’s not, jokes ha ha- I’m not helping, I don’t like Milverton, I feel sorry for the criminals, not him. 

Sherlock at the end of the story pretending he gives a shit:

#I could recreate this entire case in memes #sherlock is a drama queen #watson being a protective husband again I see #what was acd thinking when he wrote this #the original girl boss i love her #acd #sherlock #johnlock #watson #acd canon

[agentnico]

Puss in Boots: The Last Wish (2022) Review

The film debuts a new DreamWorks Animation logo: the child in the moon sails the moon around the cosmos and encounters characters from various DreamWorks films. However I noted some major absences like no characters from Madagascar or Croods or even any of their Aardman fare. Yet folks from The Bad Guys and the bloomin’ Boss Baby are front and centre. I’m all about looking towards the future, but DreamWorks needs to take a page from Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol and remember to appreciate and respect the past. Especially Madagascar - they’re silly but significant films of DreamWorks Animation legacy.

Plot: Puss in Boots discovers that his passion for adventure has taken its toll: he has burnt through eight of his nine lives. Puss sets out on an epic journey to find the mythical Last Wish and restore his nine lives.

Is it simply me or DreamWorks has been on fire recently? The Bad Guys wasn’t too bad but Croods 2... has anyone actually seen Croods 2? Me and the fiancée have recently watched it and gosh golly if it wasn’t one of the funniest animations I have seen in a long while. The energy, the joke rate and the colourful visages all made up for a great family adventure, and the movie also made me once again obsessed with the banger “I Think I Love You”. Croods 2 is great and if you haven’t seen it then do yourself a favour. Anyway, now we have a sequel to the 2011 Shrek spin-off Puss in Boots, which by the way the fact that that movie came out over a decade ago makes me really ponder and worry how quickly that time had past. Yet again I find myself leaning towards saying the useless observation - gosh golly. Regardless, the new sequel has now come out and you know what - it’s pretty good. In fact, it may even be better than the first one.

The first Puss in Boots always felt like a spin-off. I mean, it was literally a spin-off too, but it also felt like the younger more forgettable brother to the Shrek films. It was enjoyable and Antonio Banderas’ Zorro-inspired vocal performance of the titular character never gets old, however as a whole was a forgettable outing. However the decade long time to make the sequel seems to have paid off, as the writers and animators really spent the time to actually cook up a more unique and original title to the DreamWorks Animation collection. For one they take inspiration from the recent Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse by blending 2D and 3D animation to create a very slick comic book feel that, in the case of Puss in Boots: The Last Wish, really amplified the fairy-tale feel. As such the world is full of popping colours and the fight sequences are both exciting and bombastic, which is perfect for a family feature. I must say though that this fast paced animation style can at times be too jarring, as even my fiancée began getting a little headache from so much imagery being slapped into her lovely little face. But nevertheless it made for an exciting animation, and one that sticks out among the rest.

As for the narrative itself, as with most DreamWorks titles this film is filled with hilarity and stupidity, however it also handles surprisingly mature themes on mortality, childhood trauma, need for identity, companionship and the fear of trusting others. The mortality element especially is handled really well, as Puss is on his final of his nine lives, and he feels it. He’s afraid of death which causes him to have real panic attacks and truly question if he can still be the legend that he has been all the time. Granted his fear of death is very well founded, as in this film death itself is personified by the Big Bad Wolf, who truly is one of the most creepiest animated creations I’ve seen in a long while, from his slow motions to the red eyes to that whistle. My gosh that spine-chilling whistle. DreamWorks just casually bringing nightmares to every child around the world. So yes, Puss being afraid of Death/Big Bad Wolf is perfectly understandable, and again this is a great way to bring such a mature thematic to a younger audience. 

What I’ve also been enjoying about recent DreamWorks movies is their focus on having a big ensemble of characters, however managing to make each and every one of them stand out. Croods 2 did it really well, and The Last Wish also succeeds. Naturally the return of Antonio Banderas and Salma Hayek as Puss and Kitty Softpaws is both wonderful and nostalgic seeing them two works together again, but it’s the new characters that really steal the show. Florence Pugh, Ray Winstone, Samson Kayo and Olivia Colman play Goldilocks and the Three Bears, and they all feel like these gangster geezer types that have just walked in from a Guy Ritchie flick, and their family dynamic and Goldilocks’ inner conflict of not being able to fit in became one of the more powerful side-plots of the whole movie. Also Olivia Colman has the most perfect maternal voice ever. Like every mother in the world would gain points from having Colman’s vocals. Then there’s John Mulaney as Jack Horner and for the life of me I cannot recall what fairy-tale/children’s rhyme he’s from, however Mulaney as always is on fire with the jokes due to his stand-up comedy background, and also visually they made Jack Horner looks like, dare I say it, Boris Johnson. Only with purple hair. The resemblance in uncanny and I’m having serious suspicions that it must have been intentional. I’ve also already spoken about Wagner Moura’s Big Bad Wolf - holy frijoles that was one big bad wolfie! And finally there’s Harvey Guillen’s Perrito. At first when this little dog character appeared, I was worried he’d be that type of cartoon over-the-top inclusion that would get annoying very quickly. Instead however he ends up being that voice of goodness, purity and innocence, and one that helps our main characters make the right decisions and as such he was both useful and super adorable. 

Look, I am as shocked as anyone at how good Puss in Boots: The Last Wish turned out to be. Easily better than its predecessor and in fact taking a run for the money at the better Shrek movies. By the way the film features quite a few delightful Easter Eggs from Shrek, and one especially will excite fans about the future of that franchise. As for Puss, this is a joyful animated romp with some poignant themes and fun characters, and distinguishes its titular cat as indeed a favourite fearless hero.

Overall score: 7/10

#puss in boots #puss in boots the last wish #antonio banderas #salma hayek #dreamworks #dreamworks animation #shrek #puss in boots the last wish review #2022 #2022 in film #2022 films #movie #film #movie reviews #film reviews #cinema #animation #family #adventure #comedy #fantasy #harvey guillen #florence pugh #olivia colman #ray winstone #wagner moura #john mulaney #samson kayo #puss in boots 2 #joel crawford

[innocencefactoryblog]

NOVEMBER 2023 FILM DIARY

A few days late, but here is my NOV23 film diary!

Welcome to the season of new releases! Bottoms! Anatomy of a Fall! Dream Scenario! How To Have Sex! May December! Saltburn! Woweeeee! I could talk about each and every one of these films, but my two standouts were May December (cos it was great) and Saltburn (cos it was shite). There is not much to say about Saltburn that hasn’t already been said. Film is a game for the rich, and many directors are born into privilege. However, I can think of few directors who throw their lack of empathy at anyone who wasn’t born with a silver camera in their hands back into their audiences' faces like Emerald. It is a distinctly English view of class, a dystopia where class mobility is impossible and where the ultra rich should be in no position to help. The generous rich are punished for being far too nice, and the not even poor are leeches. What would Emerald do if she was faced with a rock and a hard place (50p instant noodles or 50p cup of soup for dinner)? Ah well, at least everyone who thought the peach fucking in Call Me By Your Name was scandalous had a good time. 

What else happened? I FREAKED OUT about having not seen enough films! Literally up in-bed at-night-talking-to-my-partner-at-5AM-about-why-I-haven’t-seen-Citizen-Kane-yet kind of freaked out. I went to a party and all I did was talk about how bad it is that I’ve never seen The Godfather for fucks sake. I’m starting an MA in January, so naturally my imposter syndrome is through the roof. To rectify this, I made a big list of all the films I need to see before I start. Caught right in between Douglas Sirk and Fellini was David Cronenberg’s The Fly. WHAT THE HELL HAVE I BEEN DOING?! I thought to myself. More importantly, why the Hell have I seen eXistenz but not The Fly already this month? I sought to rectify this almost immediately, and luckily The Fly was as fab as I expected. I also finally saw After Hours, Hardcore and There Will Be Blood, all of which were obviously great. 

I ended the month with Evilspeak, a video nasty about a bullied boy in a navy academy who discovers he can contact Satan via dial-up. Now THIS is an internet horror film! It stars Clint Howard, of Gentle Ben, The Waterboy and Ice Cream Man fame, as the poor boy who just can’t catch a break. Even his teachers bully him! Instead of dropping out, he researches black magic online and performs a ritual to conjure Satan, who can enact revenge through the power of the computer screen. Pretty nifty no? Clint Howard wears a toupee throughout, the costs of which were not covered by the film's producers, although surprisingly being the only boy with a hairpiece is not the reason he is bullied at school. AND the founder of the Church of Satan considers Evilspeak to be ‘very satanic’, whatever that means. It’s slow for the first forty minutes, but the final scene is one of my favourite things I’ve seen all year, so seek it out for a fuuun party movie. 

Now it is officially winter, brrrrrr. Staying inside with old films is maybe all that's on the cards for me this month. Gotta write some short stories, gotta get some editing done, gotta send some emails but even buying a train ticket is too much forward planning right now! November was long and exhausting, but now the festive period is just around the corner maybe I can rejoice? Time to dust off that Criterion of the Magnificent Ambersons and mull some wine, Molly Miles you WILL go to the movies!

DIARY 

5th - Hardcore, Paul Schrader, 1979. 

8th - After Hours, Martin Scorsese, 1985. Possibly the funniest film ever made.

8th - Ratatouille, Brad Bird, 2007 (REWATCH). 

9th - Hellzapoppin’, Henry C. Potter, 1941. No more seasonal depression for me! Anarchic fun! 

9th - Night On Earth, Jim Jarmusch, 1992. 

10th - A Former Cult Member Hears Music For The First Time, Kristoffer Borgli, 2020 (SHORT). 

11th - Bottoms, Emma Seligmann, 2023. WHERE IS LESBIAN GREGG ARAKI?! Watched in Rio Cinema.

13th - Anatomy of a Fall, Justine Triet, 2023. Watched in Ritzy Brixton.

14th - eXistenz, David Cronenberg, 1999.  

15th - Dream Scenario, Kristoffer Borgli, 2023. Watched in Ritzy Brixton. 

16th - How To Have Sex, Molly Manning Walker, 2023. Watched in Rio Cinema.

20th - There Will Be Blood, Paul Thomas Anderson, 2007. 

20th - The Fly, David Cronenberg, 1986. 

21st - May December, Todd Haynes, 2023. Watched in Rio Cinema. 

26th - Phantom of the Paradise, Brian De Palma, 1974 (REWATCH). 

27th - Saltburn, Emerald Fennell, 2023. Watched in Rio Cinema. 

28th - Birth, Jonathan Glazer, 2004. 

28th - Evilspeak, Eric Weston, 1982.

Favourite First Time Watches: Hellzapoppin’, After Hours, The Fly, There Will Be Blood. 

[workscounselingcenter]

Moving Through Stress

Hello friends…. Welcome to what is not a helpful tutorial on how to handle stress effectively and gracefully…. Welcome to what is my ever so comical experience of recently moving into a new house with 3 dogs, a brand new fiancé, and a 10yo wonderfully beautiful and rambunctious child while also working 2 jobs and trying to maintain some semblance of sanity…. How did I do it you may ask? Ha, not sure but I’m still alive and that must account for something, not only that my fiancé still wants to marry me, my kid says he likes his new room, the excitement seems to still ooze from his pores and the dogs don’t appear to totally hate me so I’m going to count that up as a win.

I have no idea where I heard this and where exactly moving falls on the list but “they” say moving falls into one of the top something stressors a person goes through in life…. I didn’t think much of it as I’ve moved many a times in the past and although none were without hiccups I had always moved myself and without much other added stressors. This time was different….life is different, but I suppose that’s how it goes…. To add to the comedy and give you a continued good laugh I suppose I could share we are now almost a week in to being in this new house and as of yet we’re still living out of boxes of which we’re sure some of our house elves have permanently misplaced things, waiting on our fridge, washer and dryer and the fence that was supposed to be completed the day we moved in is still not done so the 3 very active and spritely dogs that are used to having a fenced in backyard appear to be questioning their lives and my support for them. Walking all of them at once has been nothing short of an America’s Funniest Home Videos front runner.

All of this being said and even though I still do not feel settled I guess I am grateful. I have been given the privilege to live in a house with a partner, kid and pets and when reminiscing on past struggles where at one point drug addiction ruled my life and homelessness was right around the corner, I am grateful. I still have some sorry’s to deliver because of my near psychosis level lack of sleep and the overwhelming snippyness that has been exuding from my pores out of pure exhaustion, frustration, anger and abundant lack of control that I like to maintain at all points in time, but we’ve made it and you know what.. that counts.

For whoever is reading this we’ve all made it… some more easily than others and I know there will be plenty cussing me out right now thinking “what do you mean we’ve made it” life sucks. That may certainly be true and yet here you are, here we are some surviving, some thriving, some somewhere in between but we’re here, with each other and I’m going to count that as a win. I know a lot of my current and recent stressors will subside, for others it may be hard to see the light…and when we do see it just hoping it’s not an oncoming train. If that’s you… here’s my shameless therapisty plug,… reach out, ask for help, do something kind to you and for you. You’ve got this and you’re making it. Keep doing you… let’s all “move” through this stress together. The End (not really… but for now…nap time).

If you have any questions or want to learn more, please click here.

#mental health #stress