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fozmeadows · 3 years

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race & culture in fandom

For the past decade, English language fanwriting culture post the days of LiveJournal and Strikethrough has been hugely shaped by a handful of megafandoms that exploded across AO3 and tumblr – I’m talking Supernatural, Teen Wolf, Dr Who, the MCU, Harry Potter, Star Wars, BBC Sherlock – which have all been overwhelmingly white. I don’t mean in terms of the fans themselves, although whiteness also figures prominently in said fandoms: I mean that the source materials themselves feature very few POC, and the ones who are there tended to be done dirty by the creators.

Periodically, this has led POC in fandom to point out, extremely reasonably, that even where non-white characters do get central roles in various media properties, they’re often overlooked by fandom at large, such that the popular focus stays primarily on the white characters. Sometimes this happened (it was argued) because the POC characters were secondary to begin with and as such attracted less fan devotion (although this has never stopped fandoms from picking a random white gremlin from the background cast and elevating them to the status of Fave); at other times, however, there has been a clear trend of sidelining POC leads in favour of white alternatives (as per Finn, Poe and Rose Tico being edged out in Star Wars shipping by Hux, Kylo and Rey). I mention this, not to demonize individuals whose preferred ships happen to involve white characters, but to point out the collective impact these trends can have on POC in fandom spaces: it’s not bad to ship what you ship, but that doesn’t mean there’s no utility in analysing what’s popular and why through a racial lens.

All this being so, it feels increasingly salient that fanwriting culture as exists right now developed under the influence and in the shadow of these white-dominated fandoms – specifically, the taboo against criticizing or critiquing fics for any reason. Certainly, there’s a hell of a lot of value to Don’t Like, Don’t Read as a general policy, especially when it comes to the darker, kinkier side of ficwriting, and whether the context is professional or recreational, offering someone direct, unsolicited feedback on their writing style is a dick move. But on the flipside, the anti-criticism culture in fanwriting has consistently worked against fans of colour who speak out about racist tropes, fan ignorance and hurtful portrayals of living cultures. Voicing anything negative about works created for free is seen as violating a core rule of ficwriting culture – but as that culture has been foundationally shaped by white fandoms, white characters and, overwhelmingly, white ideas about what’s allowed and what isn’t, we ought to consider that all critical contexts are not created equal.

Right now, the rise of C-drama (and K-drama, and J-drama) fandoms is seeing a surge of white creators – myself included – writing fics for fandoms in which no white people exist, and where the cultural context which informs the canon is different to western norms. Which isn’t to say that no popular fandoms focused on POC have existed before now – K-pop RPF and anime fandoms, for example, have been big for a while. But with the success of The Untamed, more western fans are investing in stories whose plots, references, characterization and settings are so fundamentally rooted in real Chinese history and living Chinese culture that it’s not really possible to write around it. And yet, inevitably, too many in fandom are trying to do just that, treating respect for Chinese culture or an attempt to understand it as optional extras – because surely, fandom shouldn’t feel like work. If you’re writing something for free, on your own time, for your own pleasure, why should anyone else get to demand that you research the subject matter first?

Because it matters, is the short answer. Because race and culture are not made-up things like lightsabers and werewolves that you can alter, mock or misunderstand without the risk of hurting or marginalizing actual real people – and because, quite frankly, we already know that fandom is capable of drawing lines in the sand where it chooses. When Brony culture first reared its head (hah), the online fandom for My Little Pony – which, like the other fandoms we’re discussing here, is overwhelmingly female – was initially welcoming. It felt like progress, that so many straight men could identify with such a feminine show; a potential sign that maybe, we were finally leaving the era of mainstream hypermasculine fandom bullshit behind, at least in this one arena. And then, in pretty much the blink of an eye, things got overwhelmingly bad. Artists drawing hardcorn porn didn’t tag their works as adult, leading to those images flooding the public search results for a children’s show. Women were edged out of their own spaces. Bronies got aggressive, posting harsh, ugly criticism of artists whose gijinka interpretations of the Mane Six as humans were deemed insufficiently fuckable.

The resulting fandom conflict was deeply unpleasant, but in the end, the verdict was laid down loud and clear: if you cannot comport yourself like a decent fucking person – if your base mode of engagement within a fandom is to coopt it from the original audience and declare it newly cool only because you’re into it now; if you do not, at the very least, attempt to understand and respect the original context so as to engage appropriately (in this case, by acknowledging that the media you’re consuming was foundational to many women who were there before you and is still consumed by minors, and tagging your goddamn porn) – then the rest of fandom will treat you like a social biohazard, and rightly so.

Here’s the thing, fellow white people: when it comes to C-drama fandoms and other non-white, non-western properties? We are the Bronies.

Not, I hasten to add, in terms of toxic fuckery – though if we don’t get our collective shit together, I’m not taking that darkest timeline off the table. What I mean is that, by virtue of the whiteminding which, both consciously and unconsciously, has shaped current fan culture, particularly in terms of ficwriting conventions, we’re collectively acting as though we’re the primary audience for narratives that weren’t actually made with us in mind, being hostile dicks to Chinese and Chinese diaspora fans when they take the time to point out what we’re getting wrong. We’re bristling because we’ve conceived of ficwriting as a place wherein No Criticism Occurs without questioning how this culture, while valuable in some respects, also serves to uphold, excuse and perpetuate microaggresions and other forms of racism, lashing out or falling back on passive aggression when POC, quite understandably, talk about how they’re sick and tired of our bullshit.

An analogy: one of the most helpful and important tags on AO3 is the one for homophobia, not just because it allows readers to brace for or opt out of reading content they might find distressing, but because it lets the reader know that the writer knows what homophobia is, and is employing it deliberately. When this concept is tagged, I – like many others – often feel more able to read about it than I do when it crops up in untagged works of commercial fiction, film or TV, because I don’t have to worry that the author thinks what they’re depicting is okay. I can say definitively, “yes, the author knows this is messed up, but has elected to tell a messed up story, a fact that will be obvious to anyone who reads this,” instead of worrying that someone will see a fucked up story blind and think “oh, I guess that’s fine.” The contextual framing matters, is the point – which is why it’s so jarring and unpleasant on those rare occasions when I do stumble on a fic whose author has legitimately mistaken homophobic microaggressions for cute banter. This is why, in a ficwriting culture that otherwise aggressively dislikes criticism, the request to tag for a certain thing – while still sometimes fraught – is generally permitted: it helps everyone to have a good time and to curate their fan experience appropriately.

But when white and/or western fans fail to educate ourselves about race, culture and the history of other countries and proceed to deploy that ignorance in our writing, we’re not tagging for racism as a thing we’ve explored deliberately; we’re just being ignorant at best and hateful at worst, which means fans of colour don’t know to avoid or brace for the content of those works until they get hit in the face with microaggresions and/or outright racism. Instead, the burden is placed on them to navigate a minefield not of their creation: which fans can be trusted to write respectfully? Who, if they make an error, will listen and apologise if the error is explained? Who, if lived experience, personal translations or cultural insights are shared, can be counted on to acknowledge those contributions rather than taking sole credit? Too often, fans of colour are being made to feel like guests in their own house, while white fans act like a tone-policing HOA.

Point being: fandom and ficwriting cultures as they currently exist badly need to confront the implicit acceptance of racism and cultural bias that underlies a lot of community rules about engagement and criticism, and that needs to start with white and western fans. We don’t want to be the new Bronies, guys. We need to do better.

#race #racism #c-drama #fandom #fan wank #fandom wank #microaggresions #culture #the untamed #bronies #whiteness #ficwriting #fanwriting #cultural bias #discourse

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writingwithcolor · 3 years

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Argentine trans man with controlling parents; can I code them as Jewish?

@rcsordinaryworld asked:

The main character of a comic is an Argentine trans guy named Levi who ended up being somewhat Jewish coded. I’ve been debating whether to make it explicit, and I’m a little worried about his parents in particular. Part of his story is that he comes from an affluent family, and that his parents are somewhat toxic if not abusive. They’re funding college + transition for him, but on the condition he does what they want him to do. While he himself is a fairly good person, I’m worried about his mother perpetuating antisemitic tropes because she’s pretty manipulative and overbearing and finances are tied into it. Most of my characters are queer with bad parents, but I was wondering how I could handle his backstory respectfully if I did commit to making him Jewish?

If you are Jewish, disregard this part, because you are allowed to write your own experiences: If you’re writing us from the outside what is your motivation for making him Jewish in the first place? Because, yeah, I understand where you’re coming from that this might be messy. The experiences of a Jewish trans man with an unpleasant mother might be something highly specific that even a gentile trans man author with an unpleasant mother wouldn’t be able to capture accurately, or without accidentally stepping into stereotypes.

I understand that writing about queer characters with bad parents puts you in a bind vis a vis marginalized ethnic groups, because it’s tricky to write that setup from the outside of the group without accidentally sounding like a critique of the marginalized group as a whole. (Of course one way to do that is have lots of members of the group counteract the bad parents by treating the queer characters better.)

So yes, I would hesitate before making a character with a manipulative, overbearing, financially abusive mom Jewish if writing from the outside. There’s no reason that plot can’t be written about a gentile, and that way transmasculine Jewish readers won’t feel torn between the affirming validation of your character’s journey and feeling unwelcome and unsure about the portrayal of the mom. (Disclosure: I am not trans, so if you are trans and Jewish please weigh in on the notes.)

If he needs to be Jewish -- can they be bad parents in another way? Like completely preoccupied, or play favorites with a different kid, or something?

- Shira

While I see Shira’s point, I would like to say that this:

>>Most of my characters are queer with bad parents

makes a big difference to me. If I had to pick the Number One Thing to communicate when writing bad Jewish characters, I would probably say make sure it’s clear that they’re not bad because they’re darn Jews. The fact that most of your non-Jewish characters are in the same boat with their own parents, achieves that.

The specifics of this character’s bad traits, using money to control and manipulate, are a little problematic. In my opinion, the money-grabbing and string-pulling tropes are just about avoided, purely because the only victim of the financial abuse is also Jewish. Usually, the stereotype is that we’re conspiring to benefit Jews at the expense of everyone else.

For this reason, you might be able to work with this story if you emphasise the son’s Jewish identity and highlight his positive experiences and personality traits associated with his Jewishness. If that involves finding a community with other Jewish people where he can be safe from the abuse, even better.

It would also help to make some of the other bad parents equally wealthy. I’m starting to see more examples in fiction of Jewishness being used as a synonym or shorthand for privilege, and I’m a little worried this is becoming a modern version of the money-grabbing trope. Diluting this association by having non-Jewish wealthy families would be helpful.

Even with these things in place, not all Jewish readers will agree that the stereotypes have been averted. In particular, I think Shira made an excellent point (which I don’t really feel qualified to expand on) about transmasculine Jewish readers. People in this group may not often get to see people like them in stories, so I don’t know how it would feel for that to be in any way tarnished with even a slight stereotype. Coming back to the fact that most of your characters are queer with bad parents, how interchangeable are their circumstances? Can you simply swap this character arc with someone else’s to avoid the uncomfortableness?

- Shoshi

Though Shira and Shoshi covered things nicely, I'll weigh in briefly as the resident trans/nonbinary Jewish person.

Here are the issues I see at a glance:

A Jewish mother who is manipulative, toxic, abusive, and uses money to get her way

A Jewish man who is cowed by his mother, and vulnerable to financial coercion

An affluent Jewish family who uses their money to control

Now, as you suspected, having an overbearing, manipulative Jewish mother is feeding into a trope that causes constant pain for Jewish women. The idea that Jewish women are shrill, demanding, and unconcerned with the lives, and happiness of others around them is tossed around, even by some in the Jewish community. It's damaging, and also leaves Jewish women vulnerable. I think you could offset the damage by also including Jewish women, and especially maternal figures who are very clearly shown to not be overbearing, and to be generous (or at least not dictatorial ) with their money.

Your character himself is also a concern for me, and one of the reasons I decided to give input, despite Shira and Shoshi covering things very well already. The trope of the domineering Jewish woman is incredibly prevalent, and beside it you will often find the trope of the weak, nebbish of a Jewish man. The idea is that our men are ineffectual, easily cowed, wimpy. In short, the nebbishy Jewish man, written into so much media, is a reflection of the idea that our men are not really men, and how much harder does that stereotype hit, when it's being applied to a Jewish trans man? There is a danger here, when you show your character (who has his own reasons to play along, transitioning socially, or medically can have astronomical attendant costs) bowing to pressures from his family, especially his mother, you are unintentionally reinforcing that negative image of Jewish men, and of trans men.

Finally, the stereotypes of Jewish men, and women, are both combined with the overarching theme I'm seeing here: they have money, and they use it to get what they want, no matter the harm. Now, some people do this, of those people some are parents, inevitably some of those parents are Jewish, but this falls right in line with a third, very dangerous conception of Jewish people: that we all have money, and we use it for harm.

So, like Shira I do wonder what made you want to make this character Jewish. Did you decide arbitrarily, and build the overbearing mother, the money, and the capitulating character himself after that, or did you have those things first, and decide he must be Jewish later? I feel this is a character, and a backstory that can be written, but not without putting in a fair bit of work, and examining your own logic is a part of that. In your writing you will need to show other Jewish people who are not rich, some who are and are not using that money to control. Showing mothers (and maternal figures) who listen, and are gentle, loving, sweet even. Showing Jewish men who are thoughtful, but know their own minds, and are willing to stand up for themselves, and others. It's possible, but certainly will expand your word count, and increase the time spent double-checking your work for these biases, and tropes. If you want to go ahead be ready, and be determined, it's a lot of work.

- Dierdra

#Jewish #abuse #abusive parents #Jewish stereotypes #lgbtqia #representation #abuse tw #Jewish women #Jewish men #Greedy Jew #Transgender #Asks

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yuzukult · 3 years

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from home 02 || jjk & reader

title: from home pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in future chapters word count: 8.1k+ prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: ;n; wishing this was longer than i made it... please expect the next one to take a bit of time! but you never know. i’m unpredictable.

please let me know if you’re interested in being tagged! but also let me know if you want to be removed! taglist: @scalubera @strugglingartistno16-2

← previous chapter || next chapter →

Waking up on an unfolded futon is no comparison to a deluxe California King bed with pearly white satin sheets.

For one, it meant that he wasn’t actually on the futon itself rather on the floor instead. Jungkook has been having an exertion amount of time trying to not fall off the limited dimensions of his now mattress. In addition to that, even after going grocery shopping, he feels like he’s spending an endless amount of money on a daily just to keep his fridge stocked because every time he pulls that door open— there’s nothing in the fridge. How is that even possible?

At times like these, he missed the personal chef. Sure, he couldn’t remember the gentleman’s name, but he made a mean grilled cheese sandwich. Instead, Jungkook enjoys a sad and limp piece of string cheese for breakfast.

For once, he’s grateful that the distance from home to work is short, really being an approximate 10 minute walk, meaning that he didn’t need to take an Uber or possibly buy a car? How did poor people transport from one place to another? He thinks of you on his route to work; the things you yelled at him the night on Hoseok’s yacht, how he purely innocently asked if he could pay for your future endeavors and the reaction he pulled from you that could only be described to be full of resentment. You really didn’t like him.

True be told, the feeling of hatred is mutual.

Jungkook dreads coming into work, mostly because the sight of you is a constant and the current impression he has of you is that you’re just plain mean and bossy. He hates that whenever he’s in the midst of a task, you manage to always slide in to critique every action he performs. How old did you think he was? Some thirteen year old with an adult job? While at the end of the line at the cashier’s station, Jungkook places the bread at the bottom of the brown bag but before he’s ready to drop the jug of milk on top, you shove his hand away. “You’re going to flatten the bread if you do it like that. Heavier duty items are at the end of the pile. Lighter and fragile items on top.” He scowls. Or when he’s in the parking lot, while lost in his thoughts, he nearly propels one of the carts directly into a moving car, and surprisingly enough, you’re standing outside beside him, swooping in with your fingers wrapped around the handlebars with sweat dripping from your forehead while halting the motions. “You almost dented that guy’s car!” He wants to tell you ‘and so what?’ but he refrains from saying anything because when he turns to look at you, you’re already halfway down the lot, making your way back indoors.

Then when he’s stacking the canned goods on the shelves, you approach him from behind and tell him that he’s doing it incorrectly. “What’s wrong about putting stuff on shelves?” He asks, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “The labels aren’t facing out. How are the customers supposed to know what it is?”

“Turn the can around?” He says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, so do it.”

When you walk away, he’s tempted to grab the canned corn he’s restocking and chuck it at the back of your head, but he holds himself back. This is for his mom, for the development of himself, to prove to his brothers that he wasn’t just some useless, spoiled kid. You didn’t believe in him anyway which is probably why you’re being so difficult— oh how he wished he could ask for a replacement trainer. So why waste his time trying to please you when he really just needs to sway his parents? The main goal is to get the money back into his pockets anyway.

Once finishing his list of tasks, he advances toward Hoseok who’s in the middle of mopping a spill in one of the aisles. Apparently, someone had dropped a jar of pickles, filling up the place with the stench of vinegar, scrunching up Jungkook’s nose. “Is she always this mean?”

Hoseok glances up from the pile of pickles on the ground, chin resting on the handle of the mop, discouraged to clean the mess. “Who?”

Jungkook skims the area to confirm that the coast is clear before he whispers your name discreetly. “I feel like she’s looking over my shoulder 24/7. It’s like she’s out to get me. Maybe she wants to catch me doing something stupid and get me fired.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes in response before finally crouching down to throw the scattered pickles into the trash bin beside him. “No, she doesn’t. You’re her responsibility, so if any higher ups saw you fucking around or fucking up and find out that she’s the one who’s supposed to train you, she’d lose her job. She can’t afford that, Kook.” Jungkook sighs, observing Hoseok as he’s trying to gently pick up the piece of glass that’s drenched in the juices. “Well? Are you just going to stand there and watch after what I just told you? Help me!”

Abiding by instruction, Jungkook still sighs heavily, bending his knees to grab the pickles cautiously between his index finger and thumb. This is rancid, and the way his face contorts in disgust when he flings it into the trash can says it all. He can’t believe that he’s in this position right now when he could be sitting in the middle of a golf course on a Wednesday morning, enjoying his fifth glass of merlot, with a pretty girl by his side, complimenting him every time he swings his golf club. “I miss the rich life. I don’t know how you do this everyday. Is this even worth it for you?”

Shrugging his shoulders, he grabs the last piece of glass on the floor as Jungkook tosses a handful of pickles he grabbed previously. “I just didn’t want my parents controlling where the money was going anymore. And I got tired of being called a prodigal. I wanted to be someone who could do things themselves without having my parents giving me money.”

“But how could you hate that! Isn’t that their job as parents? Taking care of you, giving you more than you need? That includes money. We’re just lucky because our parents are rich.”

Standing up from his position, Hoseok brushes his hands off on his apron as Jungkook follows in suit. “But that’s what I mean. Do you hear yourself? The ‘we’re just lucky because our parents are rich’ thing is getting old. Don’t get me wrong, I want to be just as rich but I want to be wealthy myself, not because my parents gave me the means to be.”

Hoseok makes a point but not one that Jungkook can fully grasp onto. He understood where the older male was coming from, but truth be told, Jungkook still wanted his parents’ wealth in the end. Hoseok had dreams he was chasing, ones where cutting ties from his parents would be beneficial but to Jungkook, he didn’t have any aspirations of his own to obtain like that.

“Anyway, I digress. She means well. She needs this and that café job too. Her parents don’t have any type of money, if anything, she purposely cut herself off from them so that they wouldn’t have to pay for her. Moving back home is her personal embarrassment, just like how being kicked out of your home is yours.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

Hoseok pulls his lips into a tight line, dropping the mop into the bucket to extract the vinegary liquid out. “Work with it. Be better than what she’s asking for. I learned a lot from her and I’m sure you can too. Who knows? Maybe she’ll pick a couple things from you along the way.”

That’s when he tests the waters.

For the past two hours, that’s exactly what Jungkook does. He tries. Harder than usual. When you walk by, he is especially polite to customers with the brightest smile his cheeks will allow. Or when he’s back to organizing cans on the shelves, he’s attempting to show all the labels, but you’re back, questioning why he’s even stacking cans with dents in them. Then there’s the time he’s standing at the station for the self-checkout... but he gets distracted while playing on his phone and you nearly smack the living shit out of him.

“Why do you freaking hate me so much?” He exasperates, arms dropping at his sides from frustration. The shift is finally over, thank god, but he’s still on edge as to why you always have something to say, so he chases after you into the locker room. “All you do is attack me the entire day and it’s already difficult for me to adjust to being here.”

“Listen, I get it. It’s hard. Well, I don’t really get it because I’ve been working most of my life, but this is completely new territory for you. Regardless, you still have to learn how to do this, Jungkook. Your parents aren’t going to be supporting you anymore.” Wrong. Wrong because in his mind, his parents are going to welcome him with open arms when he proves his capabilities. This situation is only temporary. “So, I want to help you. If you really need anything, here’s my number. Call me.”

“Is this a way for you to get my number?” Jungkook raises a brow suggestively. Clicking your tongue, you circle back into your locker, grabbing your bag of items. “Trust me, you would’ve known if I wanted to get in your pants. Plus, I’m giving you my number, not asking for yours, dumbass.” Flinging a crumpled piece of paper at his forehead that so happens to have your number on it, he pouts after rubbing his head. “Rude.”

“Jungkook,” You’re speed walking out of the supermarket with Jungkook trailing behind you as quickly as he can keep up with. Did you run track before? “I really don’t want to hear your excuses about why you were snooping on me while I was changing my shirt.” He didn’t see you changing, he merely caught a glimpse, but even so, it was only a bit of your tummy that he saw.

Nonetheless, he knows you’re just joking because of the light laughter that escapes from your lips afterwards that sounds like the melody of his favorite song. Maybe you weren’t so bad after all. Maybe it was just a facade you had to put up at work most of the time. “I wasn’t—“

“Jungkook.”

You freeze at the sound of his name; Jungkook’s reaction is delayed as he bumps into you from behind while his head turns to the voice. “Jungsik Hyung.”

Jeon Jungsik. Also labeled as the 3rd child or middle son of the Jeon Family. He’s known to be the philanthropist, the humanitarian of the Jeons, donating his percentage of the earnings from his family’s corporation to a different charity each time he’s the headline of an article. Jungsik in person is even more handsome than the pictures you’ve googled online; simply breathtakingly beautiful just like his personality and heart. Undercut hair with a navy blue suit that compliments his figure, he has a clean appearance with a demeanor that is nothing more than a calm and gentle nature. Despite all the greatness he possessed, he unfortunately had to go through the loss of his late wife, who the doctors had discovered she had cancer, later choosing to spend her last days in Africa, teaching the children English.

You may have looked up the prettiest Jeon brother on every search engine on a random Tuesday night, sitting on the floor with your laptop perched on the coffee table, glass of moscato in hand. Dating a guy like him would be a dream— yet, there you were, getting shit-faced drunk on moscato with a mud mask that was hardening on your face.

Your thoughts are interrupted at the tail end of Jungkook’s introduction between you and his brother, bowing abruptly at the realization. “... She works here. Currently occupied with training me.”

Jungsik grins, pearly whites blinding your eyes. “Admirable. Thank you for looking out for our little Kook. He’s not the best at working, so I figure he must’ve made things difficult for you.”

“Occasionally,” You joke, replicating the contagious smile on his face. “But don’t worry, Jungkook will get there. Once his training portion is over, I’m sure he’ll manage.” That’s not what you said at Hoseok’s yacht, is what he wants to say, but definitely not in front of the angelic brother. Jungsik chuckles deeply at your response, tips of his ears flushing pink at your interactions, and it makes Jungkook cringe.

“That’s great. I’m sure that you two have had a long day, so is there any way I can treat you guys to dinner?”

You can feel Jungkook’s hot breath down your neck, fuming with anger with smoke probably whistling out of his ears. “Why, why, why did you agree for us to have dinner with Jungsik? This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me!” He whispers aggressively beside you but you only ignore his reaction by flipping another piece of pork on the grill. “And why the hell would you suggest coming to this dump? He said he would take us out to a five-star restaurant!”

Admittingly so, a Korean BBQ joint located in some-what of an alleyway is far from a fancy restaurant, but this place was good, your favorite, and why not introduce Jungsik and Jungkook to food that doesn’t need caviar for it to be considered delicious?

Jungsik excused himself, looking kind of out of place in this low-ceiling location, but he forced a smile anyway before looking for the bathroom. “We can just tell him that we have to go or that you’re not feeling so well. He’ll let us make a run for it, trust me.”

You glance over at Jungkook. “You can do that. I’m staying.”

“But why!”

“Because he seems nice.” You’re adding more meat on the grill again. “Plus, I’m starving. I was going to come here anyway.” Jungkook pauses, watching as you casually maneuver the food with the prongs. “... You were going to eat alone?”

Dropping the prongs, you pick up your set of chopsticks to grab yourself a piece of kimchi. “Well, yeah. Who else am I supposed to eat with?” You shake your head, jumping back on topic. “If you want to leave, feel free. I’m still going to be here.”

“Hell no. I’m not leaving you with Jungsik hyung.”

Tilting your head with narrowed eyes, you blink. “What’s wrong with Jungsik? He’s literally an angel. Like I actually can’t believe that you guys are brothers.”

Jungkook chews on his bottom lip anxiously as if he’s holding back. “I just think he’s not a good guy. So I’ll stay.”

“Sorry I took so long,” Jungsik places his blazer on the seat beside him, rolling up the sleeves of his white button up. “I just needed to wash up. So... how long have you been working at my mother’s supermarket?”

You hum in thought, counting the months from when you first started. It was during University, possibly around the time you were starting your second year... “Probably around three years? And the café... maybe two? I think I’m approaching two.”

Jungsik’s mouth gaps open. “Wait, you work at my mother’s café as well?” Nodding in response, you place a couple of the meats onto Jungsik’s plate as Jungkook eyes you carefully. “Tuition doesn’t pay itself. And I plan to start a business one day, so two jobs is the only way to get to that finish line.”

“I—I offered to pay,” Jungkook interjects into the conversation, feeling like he’s the third wheel suddenly. “I told her she didn’t need to work the two jobs and I’d help her pay for the bakery.” That’s when Jungsik’s gaze meets Jungkook’s; his stare is unreadable and Jungkook can’t place a finger on what’s running through his mind. “Are you two... dating?”

“Why does everyone ask that?”

“Well, Jungkook is offering to pay for your business,” Jungsik begins, watching the expression on his younger sibling’s face who reciprocates the action, “and he never does that.” He pauses for a moment before breaking the staring competition with Jungkook, fixating back onto you. “But then again, Jungkook spends the family’s money heedlessly, so that’s expected. I’m sure your business is legitimate, but Jungkook probably didn’t even do any research before gifting you that proposition. And I don’t really see Jungkook in a relationship, let alone someone like you, anyways. No offense. I think you’re great, hence why I don’t think he could even land you.”

Cheeks flushing pink, you dip your head. “Thanks.”

There it was. Even when in front of a stranger, Jungsik is just like his other brothers, shamelessly speaking about Jungkook in a condescending manner. Jungkook confesses that Jungsik’s hypothesis is right— Jungkook did exactly do all those things he listed, but that doesn’t mean anything. It was a kind gesture, one that he figured Jungsik would’ve done himself, and he couldn’t see what was wrong with the decisions he had made. You were passionate about a dream, realistic with the expectations, and had mutual friends with him. He felt like despite the constant bickering, he still trusted you. More than his own siblings, at least.

The silence between the three of you was swelling, tension predominantly between the two males, so you shatter that glass by placing some beef on Jungkook’s plate. “Try that.”

“... You want me to try that? I don’t eat regular grade beef.”

“Well kid, you do now because you can’t afford any of the kobe stuff. Come on, Jungkook, just give it a shot.” Grabbing a bed of lettuce, you place a piece of garlic, swipe of gochujang paste, and drop a slice of beef onto it before wrapping and bringing it close to his mouth. “Here, try it like this.”

Jungkook can feel it. The way Jungsik studies the actions between you and Jungkook was a test. Jungsik traveled far and wide, spent time in first and third world countries, eating things that Jungkook can only imagine of eating... well, he doesn’t want to imagine some of those things, but ultimately enough, he’s testing the waters. Jungsik would go home later that night, report this to the other four siblings and to his parents in the luxurious dining room where they’d have their meetings, which meant one thing: he had to eat this concoction that you’ve created.

You lift the lettuce wrap up, gesturing him to open wide. Slowly, he parts his lips, just enough for you to thrust it into his mouth as he winces, the juices from the meat spilling out from the sides. As you wipe the spill with a napkin, his eyes dilate with a sparkle. "Holy shit. That's good."

Jungsik lets go of a breath he's been holding. "I didn't think you'd actually eat that. Don't think I've seen you eat anything without caviar, gold flakes or truffles."

Jungkook turns to his older brother, cheeks full of the lettuce that you've fed him. "Well, you thought wrong. I'm different now, hyung, and it hasn't even been that long since I've left home."

"Correction, since mother kicked you out." He retorts, attention turning back onto you. "Anyway, thank you. This amount on my plate should be enough for me tonight as for I already had a very large dinner before stopping by the market. I'm going to have to leave after this— but feel free to order as much as you like, I'll keep my card on the tab."

"Oh," Face crimson, you wave your hands in front of you in disagreement, "Don't do that. I don't mind paying."

"No, no," Jungsik says, taking a mouthful of the meat into his mouth. "It's the least I could do since you're looking after my little brother. After all, he needs all the help he can get."

When Jungsik says goodbye and exits the store, Jungkook found it inevitable to ponder why his brother decided to come by anyway. Despite his common reputation of being the sweetest and most caring Jeon, he was known to be devious to those who were close to him, shady majority of the time, and every step he made had a reasoning behind it.

The moment Jungsik steps out of the restaurant, he spits out the chewed up beef behind the door, eyes meeting with Jungkook through the windows before a mischievous smile stretches from cheek to cheek. What was he up to?

Inhaling sharply, he shoves it under the rug for future thought. "Enjoying the food?"

"Mmm," You hum, cheeks full of rice and kimchi, an unrecognizable amount of joy written across your face. "So good. Definitely worth dealing with you and your brother's weird relationship. Is this what it's like with all of your siblings?" In spite of the grain of rice stuck to your chin, he oddly thinks this sight of you is... cute.

"Usually. They aren't really fans and disagree with almost all of my life choices except for going to University. I graduated with all honors and on the Dean's List multiple times yet I'll never be up to their standards."

"Well, to be fair, those gossip magazines talked a lot about your scandals." You grab a napkin to wipe the area around your mouth and he suddenly misses the rice that rested on your face.

"What? A twenty-three year old guy can't sleep around? What's wrong with that?"

You shake your head in response, leaning back against the metal chair that begins to bring discomfort to your tailbone. "Nothing wrong with that, but your choices on who you decide to bed is definitely controllable. You keep luring in those rich girls who do nothing all day but spread rumors and make it their life goal to assure your life is a living hell." Tapping your fingers against the table, your lips purse up in thought before resting your arms beside your plate. "Wanna order some drinks? It's on your brother's tab and you seem like you need to loosen up a little."

Five shots of charm soju in, Jungkook's supple skin is flushed red.

"I only sleep with those types of girls because I think they have somewhat potential in dating me. But in the end, they're all the same. So I just end the night with a quick bang and go home." Strangely enough, even with Jungkook's history with drinking, he's actually a lightweight. You'd think he had a better tolerance with his constant intake but you've been proven otherwise.

Eyes hooded and face pressed against the palm of his hand while his elbows rest against the wooden table, he hums to an unfamiliar tune. "I just want to get through this part of my life. Bring home someone who's steady, realistic, and liked by my entire family where they actually have hope in me again."

"You can, just don't bring any of those girls home again." Alcohol doesn't hit you as hard as Jungkook does, or at least, five shots doesn't, but you admit you're a bit tipsy. "I'm sure someone like that will fall for you. You're like... pretty and with money."

He scoffs. "Hoseok would frown at that response. He hates when people associate him with his parents' wealth. I don't understand it."

"It's like when your family thinks you're incapable of working hard. People think he's incapable of working, too. In this case, associate him with his parents' money, and for you, they just think you won't make it out here alive because of your choices. You're both on the path of proving yourselves competent."

There's silence between the two of you, Jungkook deep in thought.

If Hoseok was on the same route as he was, why was Hoseok's approach entirely different? Why didn't he feel the same drive and motivation as Hoseok does, and why does it make him believe that there was another way to solve this issue? Instead of trying to make enough money to move out, he could just feed off of his parents' money and use it towards something else, earn money off of that and spend that newly collected money that was now truly his. Which brings to question, how can he hit two birds with one stone? Both introduce his parents to someone who was totally out of his league yet loved by them and demonstrate his ability to work?

Bingo. The answer is sitting right there in front of him. You.

You were a hard-working middle class citizen. From juggling two jobs to being a graduate at some University, you knew what it felt like to be poor. You hated people who bathed in wealth, especially when it's claimed to not be their own and stood for your beliefs. If Jungkook brought you home to present to his parents, they'd be so jubilant that he could imagine his stubborn, stone-cold face father doing cartwheels, mother's cheeks in pain from all the grinning, and brothers looking defeated, envied erroneously.

"Tell me a bit more about yourself, I feel like I don't really know you." There. If he studies you enough, maybe you'd be willing to jump in on his plan. After all, he still has to determine what he can offer you in this portion of his scheme to convince you to deceive his family, especially since you seemed to be fond of both Jungsik and his mother. "... Why are you suddenly interested?"

He shrugs. "I just wanna know. Where did you go to school, why did you choose a bakey, etcetera. If I'm going to be working with you, I should probably get to know you a bit better. Maybe I'll feel more inclined to cooperate." It was like in mere seconds, Jungkook wasn't intoxicated anymore— completely sober.

So you play his little game, it wouldn't hurt, right? "Got a scholarship to study abroad, so I was in New York for a couple years. Don’t get me wrong though, since it’s the US, it wasn’t a full scholarship, but I didn’t have any other opportunities that I wanted. Then graduated with a degree in Food Science. Then parents needed some money so I had to come back right after graduation and pick up a job at your mom's supermarket, paid off their debt and now I'm just trying to pay off mine. I also needed to put some sense to my degree and well... I loved baking in my free time. It was all I did when I was stressed from exams."

"You studied in New York?" If he wasn't sober a couple minutes ago, he was now.

You nod in response, finishing the last portion of pork that sits idly on your plate. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

"But you started working at the market three years ago?" He asks, the space between his brows crinkle, trying to count the months in his head. He also takes note that he's older than you and that it'd come in handy later. "It doesn't make any sense."

"I finished high school early." The sizzle of the grill dies down, the ventilator shutting off from the lack of smoke. "I jumped a couple grades."

"A... couple grades. A couple grades, it doesn't sound like just 'a couple,' you literally graduated college at the age of what... fifteen?" He heaves, completely taken aback by this new information. "And then graduated college at eighteen? Yet you're working at a grocery store and some coffee shop when you could be running an entire company."

"Well, when you say it like that—"

"Okay, I have a proposition for you. Let's date." You nearly choke on the water you're drinking. "What?"

"Fake date, really. Be my fake girlfriend. You're a year younger than me, got a college degree at eighteen with attainable aspirations that I could cater to once my parents give me access to their money again. The entirety of this conversation is only giving me more reasons to invest in our relationship, to invest in you, and it'll benefit me in return." You squint your eyes at him suspiciously, but he continues. "My mom already likes you. Jungsik even thinks you're too good for me and that there's no way that you'd ever date me. If you actually did, imagine the look on his face!"

"Jungkook," You sigh, running your fingers through your loosen strands of hair. "I don't know. This seems wrong, lying to your family. They only want the best for you."

"Absolutely not. My brothers want to see me fail. If you agree to do this, I can show you what I'm talking about."

Hesitant, you nibble on the hardened dry skin on your lips, heart racing in uneasiness. "But you'd be giving up a lot. No more flings, no more getting wasted... you'd have to be completely serious and on board if you do this. It has to be convincing. But at the same time, how long and how are we going to keep this up?"

"Maybe until you get your shop up and running so that you're able to stabilize it yourself. I'm sure that wouldn't take long anyway, and it would be a great business deal if we go through with this. You'd be out of debt, starting your own bakery, all in a shorter span of time than intended. And all you have to do is come home with me to see my parents occasionally, attend some events, hold my hand, maybe exchange a couple kisses— but nothing out of your comfort zone though, I respect boundaries."

With how his hand gestures move, and how the ideas flow from his mind so effortlessly, you could've sworn that Jungkook was a con-artist. His words were a shell of plausibles and credibility— up to the point you had to tell yourself to stop and take a breather because all this material was starting to sound reasonable, and from your lack of experience with Jungkook, he wasn't the most reliable person you've met. "I'm going to have to think about this. As great as it sounds for me, it doesn't seem like much of a character development path for you."

"But it would," he asserts, putting emphasis in the way he speaks, "I'm investing in something I believe in. A business, one that I see potential in, in a person that I see potential in."

"Jungkook, you met me last week."

"Which is why it makes it even more impactful!" He exclaims, arms thrown in the air. "I know you hate me. But you have the qualities of what would help me get myself back into the estate. I'm not even sure if I'm written out of the will yet, and I'm praying that this whole 'changing' thing won't take so long that the idea is going to be thrown out the window."

"I really don't hate you, I just want people like you to be more aware of what's going on in the real world. They all view the lives of people like me through a sheer shower curtain with diamonds and pearls wrapped around their bodies, laughing away. It's like you don't see the problems we face everyday."

"And as much as I don't want to do that, let that be part of the deal. Get one 'ignorant' rich guy out of that stereotypical pool, and teach me how to be better. Then, I'll also be on the road to being a more... empathetic and educated man."

Puffing up your cheeks, you look away for a brief moment. “I still want some time to think about this.”

“That’s fine. But also, one more thing.” You turn your gaze to fixate back onto him. “Yeah?”

“Don’t eat alone if you don’t have to. Call me, I’ll keep you company.”

"... So I asked her to be my fake girlfriend." Jungkook ends the story of how your ‘fake love’ blossomed under the fluorescent lighting and smoke from the grill at a barbecue shack hidden in an alleyway.

Hoseok's jaw drops to the floor. "W-What?" He stutters, appalled by Jungkook's proposal for you. How could Jungkook just bring up an arrangement like that so effortlessly? Without even a second thought? "And what did she say?"

"That she needs to think about it a little more."

He sighs of relief, pushing his hair back through his fingers. "Good. Because she has a horrible history with guys. It always seems to go down in flames. I could only imagine what it means if she dated you."

"It's a fake relationship, what could possibly go wrong?"

"You might fall in love with her. Or worse, she'll fall in love with you. Literally every fanfic and romance movie trope that has to do with fake dating. Plus, imagine if she fell in love with you." He shivers at the thought.

“What’s wrong with me? Why are you making it sound like it’s the worst thing ever if she even so likes me like that? I don’t even think she’ll fall for me anyway. The mere thought of me seems to disgust her.”

Grabbing another box of cereal to restock, he rolls his eyes. "You really don’t get it, do you? It’s more like... you're not going to be serious about her if she did. You don't even know what it means to be in a committed relationship, let alone know how to handle a fake one. If she falls in love with you, she's done for. Then her guy streak really is horrible. You’re putting her in a tough spot, Jeon."

Tearing open another cardbox box full of inventory, Jungkook frowns in thought. What if you did fall in love with him? How would he go about that? Would he still invest in your business then? Taking a moment to let the ideas sink in, he’s already decided. "I'd still invest in her." He concludes. "Isn't that part of the journey? Learning how to be professional? If she falls in love with me, I'll give her space. But I still believe in her business and her goals to open one."

"But you don't even know her," Hoseok reminds him, stopping in the midst of his actions. "She really needs this. If you so much have any doubt of leaving this plan, she'll be devastated. Everything that she has worked hard for has to be halted because she trusts you. You can't play with people's lives like that."

"It's just a business," Jungkook clarifies, but Hoseok shakes his head in dismissal. "This is her life's work, Jeon. Have you even really talked to her about this? You need to either call this off or have a written contract or something because you're not only diminishing her love life, but her dreams too. So really think about this."

Jungkook slouches, body barely standing up against the shelves. “She still has time to decide. Trust me, Hobi, if she does fall in love with me, I’ll take care of her and make sure that she’ll still be able to have the business.” Hoseok eyes Jungkook in disbelief. “You found out she’s younger than you, didn’t you? I can already hear it in your tone. Don’t overlook the age, she’s still lightyears of experience ahead of both of us combined.”

unknown [6:22PM]: so, what’s the verdict? unknown [6:23PM]: my fault, it’s jungkook.

Letting out a large exhale, you shut your lids, phone in the palm of your hand after viewing the texts, allowing your body to fall against the wall behind you.

It’s another late shift at the coffee shop, one that ends around 2am before the cycle of waking up for an additional eight hours at the Jeon market. Although the bags and dark circles that begin to reside underneath your eyes are evidence to your exhaustion, gradually taking a toll on your body. The days were getting shorter, nights stretching longer, and you weren’t sure when your next day off would even be.

Then the thoughts of your loans come to mind. There was another email sent to your mailbox, reading that the next bill was approaching and due soon, causing the weight on your shoulders to inflate. If only the figurative load built your muscles because then you’d be able to pick up a job on a construction site, possibly making a bit more money than you do now with both jobs combined.

You glance at Jungkook’s text again.

The belief that you were independent goes out the window if you cave into Jungkook’s premise. You were practically selling your body at that point... but your personality was part of the package as well. Then there was the lying— you admit, being yourself around the Jeons was easy, but having to lie to them about dating Jungkook seemed... difficult. They were relatively smart people, what if they’re able to see right through your act? And what about Jungkook’s past? Would it continue to haunt you during the relationship?

For instance, what about the women he dated? Rephrase: slept with. There’s pretty much a guarantee that scandals would arise with the announcement that Jungkook was going steady with someone who wasn’t an aristocrat, a child of money. What about you stood out that Jungkook would fall for you to convince other people that you were good enough to be part of their world?

But you go back to your debt.

The biggest regret yet also your biggest accomplishment was going to college in New York.

The expansion of knowledge you were able to obtain during your years there was irreplaceable. If anything, really, it molded you to the person you are today. But at the same time, the debt was like a dark, rainy cloud that followed you around wherever you went.

Having to plan your every expense week by week was draining.

Declining meetings with friends because you couldn’t afford to pay for your portion of the meal, let alone for everyone else.

Jungsik offering to pay for dinner despite your inclination to decline and pay for yourself was a blessing. Veritably thankful that he didn’t take your ‘no’ as answer and left his credit card, if you were being completely honest, you wouldn’t have picked that location if you knew he wasn’t going to pay for it. It’s been a while since you were able to afford KBBQ.

You weren’t poor, no, or at least, you believed yourself not to be. Just... all your money seemed to go toward your debt and savings account for the bakery.

Feeling demoralized, you’re tempted to text Jungkook to let him know you’re surrendering, but he beats you to it.

unknown [6:30PM]: i just want to be able to help the both of us. you can lead the relationship, i’ll follow. i know how much your independence means to you, so... i’ll bottom. unknown [6:31PM]: be mine? you [6:31PM]: 🏳️ (white flag)

Sliding your phone back into the back pocket of your jeans, you make your way back behind the counter with two girls who studied at the university nearby, giggling and slapping each other’s arms elatedly. You’re slightly envious of their lighthearted laughter, wishing that you could do so freely without this heavy feeling in your chest, yet you push those feelings aside anyway, a smile tugging on the edges of your lips. “What are you two laughing about?”

“Jiwoo has a crush!” Injae exclaims, pushing the aforementioned girl to the side with a cackle. “She saw him working at the supermarket you worked at the other day and I swore I saw her staring at him in awe, a river of drool coming out of her mouth. Should’ve put a wet floor sign—“

“Injae!” Jiwoo whines, bottom lip jutting out. “Stop embarrassing me in front of Unnie. She probably thinks we’re immature.” Not really. You kind of wished you had a crush too. The butterflies in your stomach, hands palmy and cheeks flushed pink. Eagerness to see the person; each touched exchange making your heart race faster... “Who’s the guy?”

Injae glances over at you mischievously as you watch her prepare to get hit by Jiwoo. “Jeon Jungkook—” Slap slap slap. Injae’s arm is definitely going to be red tomorrow morning if not right now. But oh, Jungkook? The one you just agreed to date about 5 minutes ago over text?

“I think he has a girlfriend.” You respond uneasily, chewing on the nail of your thumb anxiously. “Who?”

“Hey,” The three of you turn to the customer, quickly straightening your postures and aprons until your eyes meet his, halting your breath. Jungkook has a knack for timing because there he stands, hair disheveled from probably rushing over, in a grey hoodie and baby blue jeans with tears at the knees. “What’s good here?” Yet his gaze doesn’t shift from you. Legs rooted into the ground, mouth parted in surprise, you finally shake yourself out of ice before clearing your throat. The girls seem to be just as stunned as you are because they haven’t moved an inch.

“Cold brew is my personal favorite. But if you want a safe option, americano is great too.” Logging into the iPad, you’re ready to tap in his order but grabs onto your wrist and you grimace. “Can we talk?”

“... You could just say that and not grab me, Jeon. Not everything has to be a K-Drama moment.” In all honesty, you were kind of embarrassed of the girls knowing your newly found relationship with Jungkook. He was definitely not your kind of guy, his brother Jungsik probably being closest to your ideal type and even the girls knew that.

Sitting by the window and across from Jungkook with your fingers tapping against the plastic cup with your cold brew inside, he continues to observe your face briefly while drinking a sip of the americano. You don’t even take a second to look at him, rather your attention is glued to the crescent moon out the window. “White flag? That’s all you can say?”

“How did you want me to respond?”

“Yes or no? Are you usually such a dry texter?” He rebuttals, prepared for anything you throw his way. He’s learning, you take note, because he usually just stands there dumbfounded whenever you’d shoot back with a response.

“Yes, it means yes, I surrender and I agree to your terms. We can date, I’ll be your girlfriend, you can be my boyfriend, blah blah.”

“Not my terms,” He says, rephrasing his text. “Your terms. You’re leading this relationship, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable just because I suggested the idea. I’m not a jackass, you know. I don’t even sleep with women who say no.”

“Are you supposed to get a ‘congrats’ or reward for that? Because that’s the bare minimum, Jeon.”

“You know what I mean,” He retorts back. “I respect women.”

“But lead them on and sleep with them even though you know that you don’t want a relationship with them but they want a relationship with you—“

“Now I have you.” Jungkook interrupts firmly. “I’m having a serious, committal relationship with you. No more of those girls anymore.” You nearly felt your heart swell out of your chest cavity but you remember that he’s just saying it to convince you to date him, despite the fact that you’ve already agreed to it.

“I don’t get where you’re going with this conversation. If you got the answer you wanted and expected to hear, I’m leaving. I’m still on the clock, you know.”

“Quit then.” You scoff at his swift resolution. He’s too impulsive. “I can’t just quit. I need the money.”

“I said I’d help you pay for those things, did you already forget? That’s what this arrangement is all about.”

Rolling your eyes, you stand from your seat, snatching your drink along with you. “In case you forgot, you don’t have the money yet. I agreed to be your girlfriend, happy?” He looks like a puppy with his round eyes peering through his shaggy hair, grin stretching from cheek to cheek. “I am. This means you have to let me do boyfriend things for you.”

“Fine.” You respond through your gritted teeth. Truth be told, you want him out of the café as soon as possible because the college kids behind the counter were starting to whisper. “But you still have to treat this professionally when we’re at work.”

“Deal, love.” His teeth are peeking from his excitement. You squint your eyes at him. “Jungkook.” You warn.

“You’re at work, I’m not.”

You’re going to strangle him.

Walking out of the supermarket after another long night shift, you’re stuck between Jungkook and Hoseok as they exchange stories of parties they previously attended, emitting a sigh from you.

“Tired of our old shenanigans, baby?” Jungkook teases, tugging on the sleeve of your jacket. Hoseok shoots Jungkook a glare. “You’re going to die tonight if you keep that up, man. She’s scary when she’s mad.”

“Oh please. She likes it when I play around.” The innocent smile on his face makes you want to punch it in. “No,” Hoseok says, pulling Jungkook over to his side and looping his arm with yours. “She’s hungry. Let’s go tame this beast.”

Jungkook just stares.

The three of you are at a 24 hour convenience store just outside his house, three bowls of ramen prepped at the table while you all sit on the stools provided. “What’s this? How was it made so fast?”

“It’s ramen, dumbass,” You hiss, breaking the wooden chopsticks that Jungkook watches in reverence. “It’s literally called instant ramen. You’ve never had it before?”

“I’ve had ramen in Japan.”

“Oh, dude, you’re going to be so disappointed when you have this then.” Hoseok laughs then winces when you kick his shin underneath the table. Gesturing the bowl and Jungkook to Hoseok, he frowns, tearing the paper wrapping off the chopsticks and hands to the younger male. “Do what she just did. Break it.”

“Break... this? Chopsticks? Who invented these?”

“Does it matter?” You chime in. “Just break it. Hurry up, we’re trying to show you how this works so we can eat. Why are you acting like an alien? You’ve seen chopsticks before.”

“Well, honestly, at the Jeon estate, we only use—“

“Fuck what you use at the Jeon estate. We’re at the...” Turning to look at the sign above the store, you point to the logo. “... KTH 24 CONVENIENCE. They’re telling us to quickly break our chopsticks so we can go nomnom.” Rapidly, he attempts to snap the chopsticks, only for it to crack unevenly and you stifle a laugh.

“... Good try,” Hoseok shakes his head, tearing the rest of the lid off of the bowl. “Maybe you’ll be better next time. You’re stuck with your screw up now, but least you can still enjoy your shitty bowl of ramen noodles.”

Jungkook swallows. The sight of the noodles floating in soup that looks painfully diluted with water, the aroma from the bowl was still alluring. Stirring the soup, he finally picks up a portion with his wonky chopsticks, blowing on it before taking a bite.

It’s... actually not bad.

“How is it?” Your voice is calmer and much more soothing than it had been a minute ago, but he makes the assumption that it’s because you’ve finally gotten food in your stomach. He takes note of this for future reference. “Oddly enough, not bad. I kind of like it.”

“Well, get used to it. It’s cheap and efficient. You’re part of the broke squad now, Jungkook.”

Broke Squad. Feels nice to be part of something.

#jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #gyukultfics

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ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole · 3 years

Text

A spa(r) day you say?

“So, we’re all in agreement that we’re having a girls spa day tomorrow, followed by pizza and films at mine afterwards?”

Steph’s voice carried out of the library and down the hall just as Jason was walking past. ‘Spar day’ hit his ears and he perked up. That sounded like an awesome idea. He loved a good spar. It had been a while since the guy’s had done something like that other than training. This though was making it to a fun event, rather than Bruce critiquing their techniques. And the girls were planning one for tomorrow. Mind made up, he needed to wangle his way into their plans. It was an opportunity to show off to Marnette who he might or might not be soft for. On top of that Steph couldn’t really argue with him joining as she had announced to the whole house with how loud she was talking.

“I’m in” he stated as he walked into the library to find Steph sprawled across one of the sofas, Marinette was locked into a sketch she was working on with Cass sitting behind her playing with her hair.

“You’re in? In what Jay?” Steph looked at him puzzled. “Your spar day. I want to join in! It’s been ages since I’ve had a good spar day” he replied.

“You want to join our girls spa day? Since when do you like spa’s? You teased me last time I had one.” Steph bemusedly responded. Jason looked aghast, him, not enjoying spar’s, teasing her about sparing, what rock is Steph hiding under?

“Steph, No offences but what the fuck!? Of course I love a decent spar. If I was laughing at you last time its cos you were making a fool out of yourself and need to brush up”

Cass hummed to herself and continued playing with Marinette’s hair watching the verbal blows exchanged between Steph and Jason with amusement. The pair were funny to observe, though the words were mean, there was no heat or hurt behind them. It was more aggressive banter.

“M, should we let Jay join in our spa day?” she quietly whispered in the girl’s ear. Mirth filtered in her voice “It might not be quite what he is expecting though”

Marinette jolted out of her design flurry back into the real world by Cass’s whisper, and quickly observed Steph and Jason trading insults and quickly understood what Cass meant.

“I’m ok with Jay joining us if he is that desperate”

“Desperate! YOu think I’m desperate?!”

“How else would you describe the battle of words between you and Steff to allow her to let you join in?”

Jason could only splutter at that. How could Mari betray him like this.

“Urghhh! Fine! Since Cass and M have agreed with you joining us… I guess you can join in! But you’re not invited to films and pizza night though! That is sacred ‘Girl Time’ which you will NOT encroach on. I don’t care how much you claim I’m hogging M, you’ll already be crashing spa time AND the fact that you’re crushing on her won't sway me! I’ll text you the location of the spa. Meet us there tomorrow at 10.00. Remember to bring the stuff you need.”

Steph pouted, while relenting to Jason’s demands since her chosen sisters were allowing it. In the corner of her eye she could see Cass grinning with mischief and Marinette smiling with amusement. Maybe letting Jason join them won’t be too bad since Cass seems to know something that has going over her head.

Jason’s ears tinged pink. He could see Marinette and Cass smiling at what Steph had said, how dare she bring up his (not so) subtle crush. Ok he would have done the same but still. Rude!

“We’re not sparring at the manor?”

“No, Jason. If you used your ears you’d know that we spa-ing it elsewhere. Like I said bird brain I’ll text you the details.”

“Fine, you better” Jason muttered before storming off. He didn’t need the teasing from Steph, or for Cass to join in in front of Marinette. He was glad he left when he did as the cackling laughter that erupted from the library moments later wasn’t something he fancied facing. At least he would be able to get his revenge on Steph in a few Spar matches tomorrow.

……………………………………………………….

Jason had been played. He knew it well and truly. It was partially his own fault. Steph had sort of tried to discourage him but hadn’t actually stopped him. Cass had a look of chaos when she said to let him join, that should have been a huge warning sign. They were key elements he should have noticed. Then not “sparing” at the manor was another big hint. Him not researching the location Steph texted him was another huge mistake. Meeting them there rather than beforehand to see that the girls were NOT in fact wearing gym clothes again probably was on him as well. Still, he was going to blame Steph for relenting and letting him join. It was her loud mouth's fault in the first place he was here, therefore all her fault.

It was because of Steph he was in a Wayne Hotel and SPA and not a gym for the day. And it was painful!

He had to cope sitting with Cass, Steph and Marinette, who all wore swimwear (unlike him having to refashion gym shorts) and dressing gowns, all having manicures and pedicures, him included.

It was torture. He had admired Marinette’s physique before wearing normal clothes and her wearing her ladybug outfit was a distraction at times. Here and now sitting with his traitorous sisters was physical torture. Bikinis allowed way too much muscle to show. Her hidden strength was on full display. That was not fun.

He also had to suffer through mud pack facials, while dealing with Steph demanding “photo time”. It wasn’t photo time at all. It was her method to extract black mail evidence.

He might admit the back massage could have been nice, if Steph hadn’t booked a sports massage. No, she had planned her revenge to craftily with Cass, and maybe with Marinette.

He may have enjoyed the lunch if there was more of it. It was like the gala’s with the tiny pretentious food, taste nice, looks good but hardly counts as a meal.

Listening to the girls gossip about everything and anything was not something he wanted to listen to.

He could be easily convinced Steph had designed the day to make him feel miserable, if it wasn’t for the fact the trio of girls looked like they were having a blast. It could have been at his expense, you could never tell with Steph.

The only enjoyable part might have been the steam room and sauna. But again he was there with his sisters and Marinette with their bodies on full display. This resulted in him being on hyper alert to protect their modesty by glaring at creeps so not really enjoying the heat from the rooms at all.

This whole day was a Dick thing to do.

He was confident he could honestly say he hated Spas after today.

……………………………………………………….

“Thank you Jay for coming with us, that last guy was really unsettling. It was nice having you there to scare him off. Not that I didn’t not enjoy having you around all day. If that makes sense?”

Marinette sweetly said while walking towards where Alfred was parked waiting to take them back to Stephs.

“I so needed this day, Stephie! Thank you for organising it” You could physically see the stress and tension the girl had had disappeared. Cass smiled, twirling her as she guided her out, nodding in agreement giggling at the girl antics. Marinette's high spirits were contagious.

“No worries, M. You were overworked. Plus it was fun being with you all. Even bird brain here. Now for pizza and cheesy films at mine!! Lunch was nice but too small for my liking. Onwards to Alfred”

Steph declared. Jason watched, as he escorted them to Alfred, the trio bounce and dance around each other. Ok he might have not enjoyed the torment he went through today but seeing them content and happy might slightly make up for it. Marinette’s beaming happiness was worth it.

After greeting Alfred, Marinette turned and gave Jason a kiss on the cheek, while the double trouble pair climbed into the car. “Really... Thank you for today. It was fun with Cass and Stephie but, I really did enjoy spending it with you too” a slight blush graced her face, before she ducked into the car and waved bye as Cass and Steph turned on her to find out details.

Jason waved at them in a daze as Alfred drove off. The kiss was unexpected and blush so cute on Marinette. Her antics definitely didn’t help his heart and falling for her. Shaking his head as he returned to reality he walked off towards his bike to leave.

He might consider changing his mind. Spas were ok if Marinette was involved.

...............................................

Masterlist

#maribat #jasonette #well hinted at #jason x marinette #marinette x jason #steph x marinette #marinette x cass #same pronunciation different meaning #miscommunication #maribat au

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anonymous-tals · 3 years

Text

Oops, I projected my mental health issues onto a fictional character that is similar to me. Time to write fanfiction, I guess!

TW: Eating Disorders. If you are struggling or are in recovery from an eating disorder, here’s a big ol’ trigger warning. There are no numbers or specifics about anything but it does center around Brad Bakshi of the show Mythic Quest struggling with his eating disorder.

This is not in an attempt to glamorize eating disorders(not that I wrote anything that would but just in case someone misinterprets this). Eating disorders are not cute or quirky. They are serious illnesses that lead to death. If you are struggling with an eating disorder, you deserve recovery. Please reach out for help to a trusted adult.

National Eating Disorder Association 1-800-931-2237

One last trigger warning for eating disorders before we begin! I hope the writing isn’t trash. If you have any critiques, feel free to comment them. I hope you enjoy the story(if this is cringey, future me, you have permission to murder me right now):

Brad’s eyes opened, squinting as he tried to adjust to the harsh lights. He looked around the room, confused as to where he was. After a couple of seconds, he identified the room as a hospital room. There was a lady sitting on a chair by the door reading a book. Adjusting himself, Brad slowly sat up, his head aching as he did. The lady perked up as she noticed Brad had awakened.

“Oh! You’re awake!”, she said, calmly, putting down her book.

“Where-Where am I?”, said Brad.

“You’re in the hospital, sir.” Brad looked around the room. The walls were a cool green. Typical nature photos shuffled through on a tv that was mounted on the wall in front of his bed as it waited to be used. There was a thin door that he guessed was either a bathroom or a closet. Brown cupboards lined the walls. He moved his arm only to notice there was a tube attached to it.

“What the hell happened?”, he thought. The previous day, or what he presumed to be the previous day, had been foggy. Well, pretty much everyday lately had been a blur.

“I’m going to go tell a nurse you’re awake so we can do weights and vitals.” A pang of fear struck him at the sound of the word weight. Someone else was going to see what he weighed. His thoughts were racing.

“Just take a deep breath.”, he thought. He tried to calm himself down by looking around the room. He noticed there was a card on the counter beneath the cabinets. Curiosity got the best of him and he stood up. Stars popped into his vision and he steadied himself before making his way to the counter. The tube was just barely long enough for him to reach it. The cover read, ‘Get well soon!’. Brad walked back to the hospital bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. “I wonder who it’s from?”, he thought, opening the card. “I can’t believe you are in the hospital! You appeared so healthy. Get well, soon, motu.”

“Brad Bakshi?”, a nurse called from the doorway. He looked up, tossing the card into a trash can by the bed. The lady who had been sitting in the room with him walked in and sat down again, opening her book. “Hello, I’m Amanda Armstrong and I’ll be your nurse today. Do you know why you’re here?”, she said.

“No.”, Brad replied, shortly.

“Well, you were brought here by…”, she looked down at a clipboard she was holding. “...Ian Grimm? Does that name sound familiar?”

“Yes, he’s my boss.” Brad kept his voice calm but his heart was starting to quicken. Memories from the day previous began to surface.

“Well, he said you had fainted while walking up a flight of stairs.” Brad’s calm demeanor cracked as the memories flooded back.

“Oh...yah. I remember that.”

“Yes, well, you got a concussion. Thankfully, it isn’t too bad.”

“When will I be getting out?”, Brad said, shaking away his feelings of anxiety.

“Well, let’s take your vitals first and then we can discuss that. Come with me.” Brad followed Amanda out into the hall. They didn’t walk for long but the environment made him feel uneasy. There was something surreal about it. Or maybe it was the fact that he felt a little light headed that made everything feel a bit off. “We’ll be in here.”, said Amanda, opening the door. Brad entered the room, surveying his surroundings. It looked like a typical room for check-ups. Amanda made her way to the computer sitting on the desk and started logging in and opening a file. “Ok, let’s do your vitals. I’m going to ask you to lay down and stay still, please!” She walked over to the wall where a weird machine stood. “I’m just going to put this on your arm, if you’d roll up your sleeve for me.” Brad rolled up his sleeve and she velcroed what appeared to be something relating to blood pressure. “Ok, I’m going to need you to answer honestly. Have you had any feelings of depression or sadness?”

“Excuse me?”, said Brad, startled, sitting up.

“Please lay down, Mr.Bakshi. Begrudgingly, Brad lay down.

“Why on earth are you asking me this?”, said Brad, frustrated.

“Well…”, she hesitated. “Ok, I’m going to be direct with you here. Your boss reported that you hadn’t been eating much and you have been appearing to be quite fatigued and dizzy. Right now, we’re doing your vitals to see what we’ll need to do.”

“Are you implying that I have an eating disorder? I’ll tell you right now that I don’t.”

“Well, the lanugo is telling a different story. Now, please, let’s go through the questions.” The nurse asked the questions while doing the vitals despite Brad giving short, passive aggressive answers.

“Ok, time for weight and height.” Brad's heart quickened.

“Do we have to?”

“I’m going to have you turn around. You won’t even see it!” He stepped onto the scale as he tried to hide his growing panic.

“You fat idiot. If you restricted more, maybe you wouldn’t be so anxious right now. You wouldn’t even be here, I bet! You fat, stupid, fatty-”

“Ok, you can step off!” The nurse's voice interrupted his thoughts and he stepped off the scale. Ok, let’s do your height.

She measured his height and then went over the computer and input the information.

“Ok. So, here’s what we’ve got going on here, Mr.Bakshi. Your vitals are showing symptoms of anorexia and so is your BMI.”

“BMI is garbage.”, Brad said dismissively.

“Well, that doesn’t disregard any of the other information. I can’t force you to do anything since you’re an adult but I would highly suggest going into inpatient care.”

“For the last time, I don’t have an eating disorder! Sorry, I care about my health! I thought losing weight was a good thing!” The nurse sighed before closing out of the tabs on the computer.

“Well, you can think it over during the next couple days. You’ll need to stay here to make sure your head is okay.” Rolling his eyes, Brad scoffed.

“Fine, whatever. My decision won’t change, though!”

They headed back to the room and Brad sat down on his bed. He stared at the tv. It had just faded to a picture of a monarch butterfly on a purple flower. His gaze travelled across the room until it fell onto the card he had thrown in the trash can.

“I bet I wouldn’t even get diagnosed with anything. I’m too fat. I need to be thinner. I’m not even that bad. I need to be that bad, though.” Just then, a sharp knock on the door halted his thoughts in their tracks. Brad looked up to see David standing at the doorway with a balloon and a gift bag.

“Great, just what I needed.”, said Brad, sarcastically.

“Nice to see you too, Brad.” Brad rolled his eyes in response. “The office was really worried about you! You sure took a tumble. Anyways, here’s a balloon! And a gift! Courtesy of your friends at the office!”

“Interesting. I didn’t consider you guys as friends.”, Brad replied coldly.

“What do you want me to say, then? Huh? Courtesy of everyone you annoy and pester?” Brad looked away, not responding. He was finding it harder and harder to keep his emotions hidden underneath.

“Listen, David. I don’t care about you guys and you guys don’t care about me and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“I’m sorry we’re decent enough human beings to care about other people.”

“Pshh, you don’t care about me. You just want to feel good about yourselves so you can feel like you’re a decent human being. So you can stop pretending you care about me because you don’t, ok? No one does.” His emotions were slipping through. He could feel his eyes welling up but he wouldn’t allow the tears to fall.

“Come on, Brad. Of course people care about you! Your brother for example! He’s a great guy! He threw you that awesome birthday party, remember?” Brad sat still, not responding. “Earth to Brad, anyone in there?”, David said, giving a small laugh.

“Shut up!” Brad shouted loudly, causing David to wince. “My brother is a horrible person. He has gone out of his way to ruin my life. In fact, he is ruining my life right now.” His voice cracked as a tear broke through.

“Brad, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-”

“Just leave, ok? Please just leave.” Brad’s heart began to beat faster. “You idiot.”, he thought. “You let him see that you’re weak. You are weak. You’re just a fat, weak, pussy.” His breathing was getting quicker and quicker. The room started to spin. It felt like everything was happening all at once. Just then, he felt a hand on each of his shoulders.

“Take a deep breath, ok?”, said David. Brad hesitated before taking a deep breath in and letting it out. “In, 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3, 4. In, 2-” Slowly Brad began to calm down. He opened his eyes, not even realizing that he had closed them. “Better?”, asked David, taking a step back. Brad looked towards the window, avoiding eye contact, wiping the tears from his face. He tried to think of something witty to say but he was too tired. They were both quiet for a bit before David broke the silence. “Well, I have to go but I-”

“Stay. Please.” Brad didn’t break eye contact with the window.

“I...I guess I could stay.” David pulled up the chair that the lady had been in earlier. They sat there in silence for a while before David grabbed the remote for the TV. “Are you good with me putting something on?” Brad stayed quiet. “I’ll take that as a yes!” He scrolled through the small selection of movies before choosing something and relaxing into his chair.

…

They sat there for a while. Movies played while David talked about what had happened at the office that day. Poppy and Ian created an obstacle course to see who was better. Not better at one specific thing. Just better in general. Brad didn’t respond but every once in a while, a small smile would crack through.

“Well, it’s getting late so I think I should actually get going.”, David said, standing up and started walking out the door. Just before he left, Brad spoke.

“Thank you...for staying and all.” He, once again, wasn’t making eye contact.

“Of course, man. It’s no big deal!” There was a pause before Brad spoke again.

“They want me to do an inpatient program.”

“Oh? For…” David trailed off.

“Yah…” Brad started fidgeting with the corner of the blanket on the bed. “I don’t know what to do. Whether I should go or not.”

“Well, I’d say you should do what you think would benefit you best.”, said David, taking a couple steps towards him. Brad was silent.

“...Thanks, David.”

David gave a small wave as he walked out the door. Brad sat there awake for a while, unable to sleep. He sat there, listening to the sounds of the hospital through the door. A woman, presumably a nurse, poked her head in the room. “Would you like to order dinner?” Brad shook his head and the nurse left. He then spotted the gift bag that David had brought. He picked it up and removed the tissue paper stuffed in at the top. Inside there was a pig plush and a card. The plushy was adorable and very soft. He pet the pig plush, enjoying the soothing texture, before placing it in his lap and moving onto the card. It was your typical get better soon card. On the inside, there were either signatures or little get well messages from everyone. It seemed like the pig plush was Jo’s idea. Brad leaned over and placed the card on the side table next to his bed. He looked at it for a minute before grabbing the pig, getting under the covers and falling asleep.

#brad bakshi #brad bakshi fanfic #is this cringey? i can't tell.#mythic quest fanfic #mythic quest

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ginkgomoon · 3 years

Text

Gavin’s Mini House In Detail 🏡

During the Mini House special events, I obtained all the furnishing items and had already unlocked all the furniture in the home so I thought for Gavin’s Birthday Week, I would share all of the little secrets it contains!

Gavin has four sections of the house including-

Living Room

Loft

Courtyard

Basement

This post also includes MC’s commentary and quotes from special happenings associated with Gavin. Special furnishes will have the coziness points indicated next to its name.

Please enjoy!

Living Room

Soft Stool

The white soft stool next to the tea table.

This stool is a must when Gavin watches soccer games.

The leather surface is very soft, and its height is just right for watching TV on.

Want to know the trend of the soccer lottery recently? How about asking about it?

It seemed to have won all the recent games, and is both happy and lonely.

If his favourite team loses, Gavin will sit here alone. (#sad)

White Sofa

With so many pillows, you don’t have to worry about having no support behind you.

Is the white sofa difficult to clean?

The bolsters are very comfortable.

Curled up on the sofa with soft ginkgo aroma.

“Gavin, do you remember what you told me?”

“I just want to be with you, just like this...”

“You still remembered!”

“I won’t forget what I’ve told you.”

“Then... Do you have anything you want to tell me this time?”

Gavin kissed MC’s forehead gently.

- This special happening (Starry Sky) refers to the Furniture City Date!

White Table

“Gavin’s Pad is placed here too.”

(It has a photo of MC and she says she will change it into the both of them next time.)

“I can add a snack box, but Gavin doesn’t really eat snacks.”

Hallway Cabinet

“Gavin waters the plants regularly.”

“These are often loose change on the cabinet which we can take before going out.”

“The silver ornament is a souvenir I bought when we went to Disneyland.”

The “Wavy Thing”

“I noticed a little “go for it” written on the most recently scrawled page of the notebook.”

“I found a magazine that puts people to sleep in a second, which was necessary for insomniacs.”

Zoombot

The black Zoombot.

Today I’m again busy all over the place saving Zoombot.

It’s a bit stupid and often gets stuck after hitting the furniture.

Makes a buzzing sound when working.

You threaten it: If you hang again, I’ll replace you!

Music Stand

The music stand bought by Gavin.

On it are sheets of music scores printed by Gavin.

It will sometimes think that the small black table next to it is a bit short.

Sometimes Gavin uses in in the hanging chair to record melodies.

Gavin will print the music scores and put them on it to practice.

Flowers on the Wall

Each flower is carefully selected by Gavin.

The front wall stores a variety of flowers.

The flowers on the entire flower wall are all preserved fresh flowers.

Black Table and Seat

Looking at it closely, it is the song that Gavin played last time. (Music score sheet on table.)

It is also very comfortable with the little black seat cushion next to it.

The soft black cushion stuffed with cotton.

My exclusive seat for Gavin’s recital.

I bought it with Gavin when we were shopping at the furniture market.

Hanging Chair/Rose Hanging Chair (Coziness 88)

A great napping spot.

Here in the Leisure Time special happening, MC and Gavin talk about the swing they had in high school. MC is surprised that Gavin knew about the view of the sunset when being on it. He says he “passed by” sometimes. MC notes how the ginkgo leaves danced in the wind. He says, “they were gifts from another person”.

Heart-Shaped Chair (Coziness 28)

A cute small stool and a convenient storage box.

Gavin’s expression was a bit subtle while he sat on it first.

Alternating blue and pink hearts, as it’s a Valentine’s Day limited edition.

Surfboard Cabinet (Coziness 42)

It’s a new surfboard. Bring it next time we travel.

There are also other surfboards. Guess where they are?

It says fly on the surfboard, like I can leap through waves with it.

(THEIR CUTE SHOES ARE NEXT TO IT AHHH)

Blue Lamp

A lamp that always blows bubbles from the bottom to top.

It’s beautiful and dreamlike when switched on at night.

Black Table on the Left

“This looks like the score that Gavin played on the beach last time. I suddenly feel a bit nostalgic.” - This refers to the Slightly Drunken Date!

“I found a picture of an asleep Gavin. He was sleeping soundly.”

Claw Machine and Carpet

A dream-like claw machine. Gavin will add new dolls in it.

The inserted game coins can be taken out from the back of the machine and then reused.

A small black carpet in front of the claw machine.

I bought it together with the large carpet.

Red Bunny, White Bunny, Pink Bunny, Red Bunny, Grey Bunny.

Motorcycles

The blue motorcycle sometimes want to compete with the opposite motorcycle.

The colour of the motorcycle displayed is sky blue.

Maybe its name will be “Azure”? (because Gavin uses colours to individually name items.)

Spring Landscape Display

The landscape has been embedded into the window, like beautiful paintings.

Maybe there is a new world inside.

I can't help stopping to enjoy the view each time I pass.

Is designed for a wider view, improving your mood even when you're tired.

Winter Landscape Display (Coziness 61)

A corresponding landscape should be changed into winter.

Such heavy snow! Frozen river! Unfortunately, they are all fake.

You can enjoy the red maple leaves and snow even at home, isn’t it wonderful?

Loft

Painting

This is a word map that covers the entire wall.

Looking at it, Gavin and I have already been to so many places.

If you want to travel, you can find the destination on it in advance.

I'm willing to create memories with him in many more places.

Chandelier

The current iron style design is really cool.

Shines warm yellow when turned on, warming our hearts.

Display Cabinet

It should have been a wine cabinet, but Gavin doesn’t drink, so it became a display cabinet.

The ‘little things’ between me and Gavin are displayed inside.

It looks empty now, but it will slowly be filled up in the future.

Black Tea Table

A black low table in front of the sofa.

I occasionally work here.

The star and moon deco piece is very beautiful, I picked it with Gavin.

You can put fruits and snacks on it while reading.

The wood texture had a matted quality with the black coat of paint.

Art

Looks cold but is artistic.

Seems useless, but also seems cool.

Greenery

A corner with blooming flowers all seasons, is warm and restful to the eye.

Outside the window is a huge ginkgo tree, and the fallen leaves are like brocade.

I feel like it’s always spring with all these flowers around.

It compliments the scenery outside the window. (They have a ginkgo tree right outside their home!)

Cabinet

Photo framed have karmas from the Starry Date and the Romantic Date!

Decorative Cabinet/Snowman Closet (Coziness 49)

The two little snowmen stared at each other throughout the winter. (Cute little reference to the CN Recovery ASMR.)

It looks like a window at first glance, but it’s actually a cabinet if you look carefully.

And you could open it. Didn’t see that coming right?

Starry Sky Wall (Coziness 52)

Today’s wish… I hope that Gavin…

I will accompany you to see the meteor rain which falls on this Earth.

Every moment a wish is realised, there will be a meteor streaking across the sky.

Dandelion Lamp (Coziness 43)

The lamp looks exactly like the grapefruit during Mid-Autumn Festival.

Like a burning sparkler, shining brightly.

Six light sources, not too dazzling nor too dark.

Festive Decoration Table (Coziness 57)

Although there are two cups of drinks, we can still drink from the same cup.

The sofa in the corner always makes people feel safe.

Although we are only two people, I still chose two long couches.

The letter under the ginkgo biloba leaf, writes a love poem.

All the shopping bags represent his most flawless love.

The wide view allows you to see the scenery in the yard.

The soft white mat was added afterwards.

But it’s always hot under the sunlight, so the curtain is often pulled down.

Basement

Security Camera

You are in a monitored area, please mind your actions.

Bulletproof Glass

It’s not a normal screen, it’s bulletproof.

It's not often that one gets to see such a cool and HARD-CORE transparent screen.

Anyways, curious what’s in this wall.

Sci-fi glass wall in the movies.

The engraved badge is Gavin’s silent pride.

1-2-3... still shorter than it!

Gingko Tree

Seasons slip by soundlessly.

No matter how small their wishes are, they will become seeds and eventually bloom in gold.

All life’s little joys turned into gold.

It guards the serene life here quietly over in the corner.

(Gavin makes ginkgo bookmarks with them for MC. CRIES.)

Corner Resting Area

These action figures are actually pretty fun!

The puzzle is all grown up. It should be able to piece itself back together. (LOL)

(Puzzle) Maybe finish it while Gavin’s gone?

(Table) It sometimes thinks the table is a bit short.

(Chair) It looks hard but it’s actually comfortable to sit on.

Very spacious, but looks a bit empty.

Some decorations should be displayed here.

Sitting on a blanket is also very comfortable. You can also lean on the small pillow.

(Carpet) This is a carpet. You can’t tell, right?

The advanced smart carpet that is warm in winter and cool in summer is awesome.

(The book on the table is called ‘Kritik Der Urteilskraft’- The Critique of Judgement by famous German philosopher Immanuel Kant. It follows after the Critique of Pure Reason and the Critique of Practical Reason- the First and Second Critiques, respectively. The Critique of Judgment constitutes a discussion of the place of Judgment itself, which must overlap both the “understanding” and “reason”.)

“You need to take better care of your health.”

“Who was the one working overnight over the proposal the other day?”

“Alright, we’re birds of a feather, so... so both of us should look after ourselves for each other!”

“Rest assured, I will. After all, it’s different now. I have you by my side.” -Harmonous Compa Special Happening

Gavin’s Workspace

Accompany Gavin though every sleepless night.

This seems… No, I’m seeing things.

All folders are neatly organised and arranged.

A spacious table, with files and reports spread all over when busy.

I no need to worry about waking up from naps due to cold late at night.

I was reminded of some criminal investigation shows I have watched. Come on, Officer Gavin!

If this complicated case is made into a movie, it will be an exhilarating one.

(Computer) A customised large-screen UHD model customised for work purpose.

(Computer) Work exclusive computer, only connected to intranet.

(Computer) The three auxiliary monitors can help keep the data safe.

(Chair) If you want to protect your waist, you should first have a comfortable cushion.

(Chair) if you work long hours, be sure to work in a comfortable chair.

(Board Area) What does it say? Ermm… Cats have nine lives?

“Found a girl crookedly drawn next to a work record when he reached a bottleneck.”

Airplane

This airplane model was assembled by Gavin himself.

The computer says- Agent B-7

Team Operator S.T.R.I.K.E

Location Tracker

S.P.Y Camera

U4V Commando

Gunship Operation

Motorcycle Repair Area

Every vehicle is so cool in its own way!

Hello, you are... Little… Erm… Let me think…

With the strength to lift mountains and the spirit to take on the world! Ha!

The robot arm is actually a simple robot.

For your safety, please don’t linger below it

(Motorcycle) I would like to greet my seniors.

Electronic Control Pad

Responsible for controlling the rising, descending and switches of the entire area.

On Spring Festival, it will say: Happy New Year, Sir!”

Sooner or later, fully automated smart management will be achieved.

Radio Office

It’s an important communication device, and the only disadvantage is that it’s a bit heavy.

It’s actually a satellite phone, and it can receive signals everywhere.

Looks like the palm phone in the 90s. Oh no, I’ve exposed myself.

It looks like an electrocardiogram.

Don’t know how to use this weird device.

A thick laptop that it’s properly shut when not in use.

A cool eagle logo is printed on it.

Gavin used it only for special tasks and it will not be brought out.

LMAO MC DOESN’T HAVE ACCESS-

Courtyard

Corner Seating Area

A courtyard in sunny or snowy days are interested in their own ways.

Sometimes the unfrequented bolsters will envy the knee pillow.

It's’ wonderful when two people are sitting here reading, even if they don’t talk.

Standing barefoot on the soft lawn is very comfortable.

There's nothing nicer than basking ourselves when its sunny.

Binoculars

The white binoculars which you can see things several miles away.

You can use it to watch the stars when it’s not too cloudy.

But star-watching is clearer mid-air.

Seems to be the same binoculars as those in the scenic area.

The binoculars in the scenic area require coins, but this one doesn't.

Outdoor Lounge Chairs

The new furniture I asked Gavin to buy.

Can enjoy the sunlight spa comfortably when relaxing.

Closing my eyes, I feel like I’m lying on a beach.

The soft breeze and warm sunshine. This is life.

Lying on it and looking at the blue sky and white clouds, your mind goes blank easily.

The blue and white clouds-

Leisure Table/Romantic Table (Coziness 52)

Lace tablecloth… I can’t imagine that it was chosen by Gavin.

The elaborately prepared dinner and roses, just for today.

A large sunshade on the balcony. (Black large umbrella.)

Bird Nest (Coziness 37)

Once it was a pair of binoculars, now it’s a bird’s nest.

I bought it just because it was cute, but I’ll consider having pets in the future.

Birds flying by can also have a free meal here.

#mlqc #Gavin's birthday #mlqc mini house #love and producer #mr love queen's choice #mlqc gavin #Gavin week #happy birthday Gavin

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feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years

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Do you have any personal headcanons about Celebrimbor's mother and her relationship with Curufin? I always thought that it's weird we don't have even the barest information about that considering Celebrimbor's unique position as the only next gen Feanorian. (Sorry if you already talked about this somewhere!)

thanks for the ask! i have, but i'm not going to pass up an opportunity to blather on about my ocs for several paragraphs

curufin's wife (she lacks a name because i hate giving characters names and will delay it until i absolutely have to) is noldorin, she lives in valinor in the years of the trees. i haven't thought much about her family, but i suspect they're middling nobility at the highest the did-valinor-have-social-classes debate is a whole different rabbit hole. she's a metalworker like her husband (she probably specialises in a slightly different subcategory but idk enough to say what) and is a member of the same tirion artisan guild. it's in that context that they meet and begin their Intense Crafting Rivalry

you know that trope where a pair of rivals are so obsessively devoted to one-upping each other it's blindingly obvious that what they actually want is to kiss? that's them, that's their relationship. their specialties are just similar enough they do a lot of the same stuff but just different enough their approaches tend to be radically divergent. what starts as the two of them trying to prove the superiority of their own artistic circle or whatever evolves into them trying to show up him/her specifically, s/he's wrong about x and i know i can do better, why does my family keep asking if we're dating yet????? their competition gets absolutely ridiculous in ways only a pre-scarcity society can get, like building an entire fountain out of solid silicon specifically because he said she couldn't do it (he actually said shouldn't but screw him (not literally cousin oh my valar))

but yeah. their relationship grows an undercurrent of the-only-one-allowed-to-push-around-my-archnemesis-is-me, and they find themselves fighting back to back (occasionally literally) when tirion guild politics takes a turn for the tirion guild politics. they just slowly come to trust each other, more than anyone else, and soon there comes an appropriately dramatic moment for them to suddenly kiss. they're still always trying to out-craftself each other, celebrimbor grows up in a house that's about 70% forge to the background noise of his parents insulting each other's work, but they're comfortable with each other in a way neither of them could have imagined in the early days, and when things get rough they always have each other's backs

things do, in fact, get rough. maglor won't meet his wife until beleriand, caranthir's relationship with his spouse slowly falls apart along with the political situation in tirion, but curufin's wife is loudly team fëanor. she suffers from an acute case of finwean spouse disease, she thinks going to middle-earth to build their own world is an awesome idea, she's deeply embedded in the tirion artisan scene with an entire social circle as think the same way, and when the inevitable civil war flares up she'll probably be even more eager to fight the fingolfinians than her husband. she goes with him and their-still-pretty young son to formenos, and when the trees get eaten and fëanor does the speech she prepares for the adventure of a lifetime

then, alqualondë. i stand by my conviction that nobody on the noldorin side walked in planning to steal the boats, let alone murder the teleri, but it was dark and the world was ending and everybody had sharp things. like everybody else involved in the first kinslaying, curufin and wife got caught up in the battle because somebody shouted 'they're attacking us!' in the distance. she is at first more trying to stop them from stabbing her, obsidian fishing spears glancing off ornamental steel, but then she lashes out and she hits someone in the chest and -

there was this recurring trope in her and her husband’s endless mutual critique. she’d create something beautiful, artfully devised and elegantly constructed, showing off a whole ton of design principles and doing things with the material no one had ever done. he would look at it skeptically and go ‘okay, but what use is it? what is it for?’

red liquid running down the fuller of the exquisite sword she forged herself, light guttering out of another elf’s eyes as he coughs up blood, she knows, sure as once were the light of the trees, what the piece of metal in her hands is for

the next few moments are a blur. she threw the sword into the water, she knows that. somehow she wound up running out of alqualondë, tears streaming down her face, as buildings burned and people screamed behind her. she found a concealed spot by the road, tore off her armour, peeked outside, and watched. when the fires were dying down and the boats were clearly gone, she mustered her courage and went to save her family

in the centuries to come, very few people believe celebrimbor when he tells them his mother tried to get his father to come back by, among other things, appealing to his better nature. nobody believes that it almost worked. but curufin was still only starting out on the road to hellbeastery, and his wife was his eternal partner-in-crime. right there at the beginning, staring out over a burning city, she saw where the road the noldor were walking would eventually lead them, no matter how much they tried to deny it. no dreams could be worth that, she told him. no ideals. and she was always the idealist, wasn’t she?

she was. maybe that’s why he, who had so very few ideals to mark his path, refused to abandon this one. their discussion rapidly devolved into a screaming argument half the camp could hear, much like curufin’s last argument with celebrimbor, centuries later. soon enough, though, it became clear that he wouldn’t turn back, and she refused to go on, and neither of them could change the other’s minds. the only thing left between them was celebrimbor

celebrimbor was eight (-ish in elf years), and completely freaked out, and eight, and knew almost nothing about what was going on, and eight, and had grown up listening to his grandfather’s dreams, and eight, and was surrounded by adults who very loudly thought going to middle-earth would solve all their problems, and eight, and couldn’t tell why his mother was abandoning them. panicking, on the spot, he buried his face in curufin’s smock to wipe away his tears. when he looked up, she was gone

so yeah, curufin’s wife went back with finarfin, that’s why she didn’t go to middle-earth. she initially stayed with nerdanel because almost everyone else on both sides of her extended family remained by (and later burned) the boats, i’m only just realising the horrible curufin argument probably wasn’t even the only one she went through that night, jeez. also she really needed a hug. the sun rose, alqualondë started rebuilding, and she ended up head of her and her husband’s former mutual craft guild, mostly because nobody else with the skills to do it was left. decades turn to centuries, news slowly filters back from beleriand, and her worst nightmares are proven so awfully right

probably the biggest emotion she feels towards curufin in the aftermath is betrayal. they were partners, in every sense of the word, they took on the world and they did it together, using their constant competition to drive each other to ever greater heights. they listened to each other, they trusted each other’s judgement, and she knows he understood the point she was making. him continuing on anyway, and diving face-first into the void - the elf she thought she knew would never have done that. as time passes by, the grief and the loneliness get subsumed by a deep abiding rage. if she ever sees the thing her husband let himself become again, she’ll throw a welding torch in his face

but that anger, that heartbreak, none of that applies to her son. when the hosts of valinor began gearing up for war - she’s the leader of tirion’s most prominent metalworking guild, she can’t not go. while they’re unloading supplies and siege equipment and stuff onto the isle of balar, she happens to pass by this relatively short dusky-skinned noldo hauling some smithing equipment about. as soon as he gets a proper look at her, he gasps. she looks back in confusion, and then she meets his eyes

later, she’ll hear his tales of his adventures in the hither lands, all of the hardships, yes, but also all of the brilliance. later, she’ll learn about the person he’s grown into, someone she can be unreservedly proud of in his choices and works. later, they’ll talk about the future, about his ambitions of making his grandfather’s dream come true, but with open hands and a light to be shared with all the peoples of middle-earth. for now, though, she wraps celebrimbor in a massive hug, and lets the tears flow down her face, because no matter how much they’ve lost, no matter how deep the darkness around them, right here and now, her son is alive

#my terrible ocs #ask #minkasartyplace #curufin #celebrimbor #assorted textual ghosts #noldor #look with all the shit that's gonna happen to tyelpe the least he deserves is a hug from his mum #i was gonna write that he ~never saw her again but then i realised there's no way she wouldn't join up with the war of wrath army #she was aware of the possibility that the nargothrond thing was a front and he'd been as corrupted as his father #she was studiously ignoring that possibility until if and when it became relevant #which it didn't #i feel like seeing the person celebrimbor became softens her opinion on the exiles #probably makes up with some members of her own family #anyone who's involved in the later kinslayings is still bad people though #she glosses 'feanorian minions' as 'target practice'#she's a reasonably prominent leader of the noldor what stayed behind #specially the ones who would have been feanorians if they'd gone #which is a proportion of the population that shrinks and shrinks as the ages roll on. by the third age she's middle tirion's craft granny #in the kidnap-dads-all-the-way-down au she's perfectly happy to mother celebrimbor's sisters #sometimes i think about making her part-telerin but i feel that undermines her choice after alqualonde #half wanna write an au where baby tyelpe stays with her now #jk i do not have the time #but i had a lot more to say about her than i expected. thanks for asking!

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themollyjay · 3 years

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Dune, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Trash Fire

So, this blog has mostly been focused on writing, and that will probably continue, but there is a topic I want to address. We’re coming up on the release of the third live action adaptation of Dune. I’m writing this on September 10th, 2021, and Dune is scheduled to release on October 22nd, 2021. Now, I will tell you up front, I am ridiculously excited for this movie, because I have read Dune multiple times, and I honestly love the story.

The thing is, for a long time, I struggled with that. Not for the reason you might expect. A lot of people decry Dune as a Mighty Whitey/White Savior story which, if you’ve only watched the David Lynch version, is a valid criticism. The thing is, if you’ve read the books, you know that Dune is actually a deconstruction of those tropes, and an open criticism of the human tendency to fall in line behind charismatic leaders. What always bugged me about Dune, and indeed a lot of classic science fiction (I’m looking at you, Lensman), is the sexism and gender essentialism that are often baked into the setting.

For those of you who don’t know, at the center of Dune is the Bene Gesserit Sisterhood and concept of the Kwisatz Haderach. In the Dune series, the Bene Gesserit is an organization of women who have had special education which allows them full control over their bodies and a number of special abilities. Two important abilities for the Bene Gesserit are the ability to see into ancestral memory, and the ability to see into the future. The thing is, the Bene Gesserit can’t see into male memories, and their ability to see the future is limited, so they have spent thousands of years on a breeding program to produce the Kwisatz Haderach, which is a man who can survive the process the Bene Gesserit undergo in order to gain these two abilities. A process which normally kills men. This is considered desirable because a male would be able to look at both the female and male pasts and see into the future with far greater ability than any female ever could.

Sexism. Gender Essentialism. Right there, wrapped up in one of the central premises of the story. There’s something similar in the Lensman stories, where women just don’t have the killer instinct necessary to become Lensman, although eventually there are female Lensmen, this is framed as the end result of a long breeding program necessary to create those traits in a woman, and the women who can wield the Lens are depicted as more evolved than regular women. For the record, I also love Lensman and I had the same struggle to come to terms with it that I did with Dune.

But how is it that I can sit here and love stories where some the central premises of the story run counter to my lived experience as a trans woman? That’s a good question, without an easy answer. The short version is, “Not uncritically.” The long version is, well, long.

Something that a lot of people don’t understand is that when you engage with any piece of media, you’re not engaging with that piece of media in a vacuum. Media exists in context, and in a very real way, media exists as part of a dialog. People will write stories, and other people will write stories in response. Events happen in the real world, and people will write stories in response. People will bring their own culture, their own societal preconceptions, and their own personal beliefs into their writing.

This is a lesson I learned largely by looking at the way my writing changed as I progressed long my journey toward coming out and going through transition. As I went through that process, my view of the world changed, and the things that went into my writing, the things I wanted to put into my writing, changed with it. That realization and understanding allowed me to go back and look at works like Dune, Lensman, Star Wars, Star Trek, and a whole host of other things, and see them not just as a product of their times, but as a product of the people who created them, and all of the things those creators brought to the table.

To be clear, I’m not saying that when something was created should insulate it from criticism. Far from it. What I am saying is that media isn’t some timeless thing that can be judged against absolute standards of right and wrong that exist outside of the context of the society in which it was created and the society in which it was later consumed. We have to view media in the context of when it was created, while critiquing what it says in the context of the society in which it is consumed. We have to look at works like Dune and ask, ‘What was the author trying to say in the language and context of 1965 when the work was created’, and then ask, ‘How does what the author was saying apply to us, now in 2021?’. Are the things the author/creator said valid? Are they worth applying to the modern world?

But more importantly, what I’m saying is that in order for any art to have lasting value, that it must be okay to find joy and value in things that are imperfect by today’s standards, because I promise you the things we create today and the art we leave behind us, will be found similarly wanting by tomorrow’s standards. All we can do is try to create with compassion, understanding, and acceptance, and hope that history judges us on the good we tried to do, rather than by failings we don’t have the language, mindset or understanding to avoid.

So, with that in mind, come October 22nd, I will sit in front of my laptop, with a huge bowl of microwave popcorn, and I will watch as an amazing cast and an incredible director give new life to a story that I have loved for decades. I’ll roll my eyes at the sexism and gender essentialism baked into the story and the setting, while I watch to see if this version has captured the warnings that Frank Herbert wove into the original story. Based on what I’ve seen so far, I suspect I’ll love pretty much every minute of it, even if it’s still a Trash Fire.

#writing #media #criticism

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randomposterofstuff · 3 years

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Soldiers by Choice - Chapter IV

Author's Note: Hi, all! I'm back with a new chapter. Real-life priorities still continue to demand my attention. Lol. In any case, here's Chapter 4.

Chapters: I | II | III

Also available on Ao3. Check my tumblr page to click on the 'Archive of Our Own' tab!

CHAPTER 4: Draws and Positions

Summary: Levi and Mikasa perform an exhibition exercise for the new recruits of the Survey Corps. Erwin deliberates on Mikasa's current role.

Year 847

---

“I would like to officially welcome you all to the Survey Corps.”

Rows of faces, most of them young, some of them slightly older than the others, look up at their Commander from his place on the raised platform. Behind him, his officers are standing in attention.

The sun has just begun to rise over the flag of the Survey Corps, which sways from its place on top of the main fortress of the regiment's headquarters. The Wings of Freedom fly in the sky overlooking the cemented courtyard where the soldiers have assembled.

“You have all accepted the responsibility of being humanity’s vanguard against the Titans. And for this, I commend you all for dedicating your hearts.” Erwin raises his right fist to his chest, saluting the new recruits. “It takes great courage and resolve to endure your fears for the sake of forging a better path for humanity. We are glad to have you fight alongside us.”

The Commander then brings his fist down to assume a more neutral stance. “At the end of the month, we will be venturing into Titan territory to establish more bases and reclaim more lands.” Erwin’s voice resounds in the open area, with its standard tenor of solemnity. “That being said, today is not only your first day as official members of the Corps. It is also your first official day of training as such. You will undergo routine drills in preparation for the expedition. My officers will oversee and assess your performances.”

“And to better prepare you for what to expect in the Titan Forest, Captain Levi and Lieutenant Mikasa Ackerman will perform an exhibition exercise once you finish your drills.”

At this announcement, awe and astonishment color the features of the new recruits. Several pairs of eyes widen, and excitable murmurs can be heard amongst them.

“You guys are in luck!” Hange cheerfully announces from their place in the officer’s line. “You all get to see Humanity’s Strongest and the Woman Worth a Hundred Soldiers in action!”

Awestruck gazes then find the captain and lieutenant at the far right of the line of officers.

“It’s really them!”

“The Ackerman duo in the flesh!”

“They say they’re the strongest in the entire military!”

Levi resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Tch. Starry-eyed brats.” He mutters, looking at the rows of recruits.

Beside him, Mikasa stands with her arms crossed behind her back, likewise observing the newest members of the Survey Corps. “I thought that after a few years, you’d eventually get used to these reactions.” Although her expression is neutral, there’s a humorous lilt to her voice.

“Annoying brats are always going to be annoying.” He grouses. “I don’t have your level of tolerance.”

She hums in amusement. “In any case, I look forward to settling the score later.” She shifts her gaze to him, a glint in her dark orbs.

His eyes reflect the same gleam. “We’ll see about that.”

Their rivalry began when they had their first sparring match together.

---

- 3 years ago -

Levi flew through the air as he watched Mikasa swerve herself around a thick tree branch using her steel cables. She used the impetus of her movements to propel herself towards him to attack. But before she could reach him, the captain re-shot his hooks to maneuver himself upwards and create more distance between them.

The lieutenant gave chase. And the moment she reached the same aerial height level, Levi aimed his cables at a branch behind her to launch himself forward with great speed, taped blades ready to strike.

But they only sliced the air where her head had just been a second ago. Mikasa quickly bent her torso back to dodge. She then flipped her body downwards mid-air and allowed herself to fall backwards for a few seconds before shooting her cables below her. The hooks latched onto a branch beneath her, and she used her momentum to swing over and under it before launching herself at Levi with her own taped swords. He blocked her attack with a swift parry before pivoting away to calculate his next move.

Wanting to see how his then-newly appointed lieutenant would fair against him, Levi had challenged her to a spar. Mikasa had accepted, similarly wanting to test her strength against his. He had suggested that they train “Ackerman” style. Intrigued, she had agreed.

And so, they trained in the way of their clan – by dueling in the air with 3DM gear. The Ackerman clan prides itself in training its members to be prepared for any threat – whether it be Titan or human, under any circumstances. In the course of their duel, they had traversed all over the forested areas of the headquarters’ training grounds.

The spar had lasted over an hour and eventually ended in a stalemate when they were forced to stop due to their gas supplies almost running out.

“It looks like we’re going to have to call this a draw.” He had remarked as they regrouped onto a large branch. Once they landed, they both took a moment to catch their breaths – the match had left them fairly winded.

“You’re a good fighter.” Levi said as he sat down across her on the branch. “But your technique could still be better.”

Mikasa raised her brows, curious about his assessment. “How can I improve?”

“The explosive power of your attacks is impressive.” He commented, remembering the nearly overwhelming force of her strikes against his taped swords. “But you need to move more quickly when avoiding a hit. It’s easier to evade and parry on the ground because you can control your center of gravity. But when using 3DM gear, you have to exert more effort in controlling the execution and speed of your movements.” He continued, recalling how she would barely evade his attacks at the last moment before they could land on her.

“Your reaction time is good, and so are your reflexes. They let you dodge in the air effectively enough. But you can still do better.”

She nodded at his comments, filing them away in her mind for future reference. “I see. Thank you for the feedback.”

“Sure.” He replied. “You got any comments on my technique?”

Mikasa’s eyes widened subtly at the question – mildly surprised that her captain would ask her to critique his technique. She took a moment to think.

“Your attacks are swift, and you use your momentum well to your advantage.” She replied after a few seconds. “Your speed also gives your strikes the natural force needed to land hits on an opponent. But I’ve noticed that you mainly rely on this natural force to attack. Conversely, you consciously apply more strength into your parries.” She explained, remembering that she received more feedback from his blades when he blocked her attacks than when he struck against her swords.

“Your natural offensive power is already strong on its own, but if you were to consciously apply more force to your strikes like with your blocks, they would be more powerful and more difficult to repel.”

"Hmm." When she had finished, Levi lifted one of his taped blades and gave it a small swing, contemplating her comments. "Duly noted."

Levi re-sheathed his swords before speaking again. “The next time we spar, there will be a winner.”

Mikasa hummed. “Definitely.”

There was an underlying challenge in her otherwise neutral voice, and the corner of his mouth curved upward almost imperceptibly as he quietly accepted it.

---

The early morning sun steadily rose up in the sky as the new recruits performed their drills. On his horse, Mike oversees those who were running the obstacle tracks. Halfway to the end, some recruits were beginning to fall behind under the weight of the packs on their backs. “You need more stamina than that if you want to survive beyond the Walls!” The section commander gruffly yells, steering his horse alongside the struggling soldiers. “Keep moving!”

Hange and Moblit stand on a large branch in the forested areas as they observe the recruits racing against each other in 3DM gear. “Come on, you guys!” The Titan-scientist calls out to them. “Titans can run at speeds faster than this! You need to go quicker if you don’t want them to catch you!”

They see one soldier finally reach the checkpoint serving as the finish line. “Moblit, how many minutes did it take for him to finish?”

The executive officer checks his hand watch. “9 minutes and 17 seconds, Section Commander.”

Placing their hands on their hips, Hange throws their head back as they sigh loudly. “Not fast enough!”

---

Hours later in the afternoon found the recruits crowding at the edge of the forest.

“The exhibition shall begin momentarily.” Erwin announces. “During expeditions, Titans can and will approach from any and all directions. So, to have a more effective simulation, a handful of soldiers have been assigned to launch flying targets from different areas in the forest. Captain Levi and Lieutenant Mikasa will dispense of both flying andstationary targets. They will traverse through the forest, so we will keep track of their progress by following them at a distance with 3DM gear.”

More excitable murmurs once again erupt from the crowd.

“Flying targets? No way!”

“We never dealt with those during cadet training!”

Levi tsks as he adjusts the straps of his 3DM gear. “Shadis and the others should make flying targets a standard part of their training.”

“To be fair, Hange only came up with the idea 2 months ago.” Mikasa comments while securing the tie of her short ponytail; she had let her hair grow just past her shoulders over the years. “It’s likely that none of the Commandants have even heard of it yet.”

Levi only gives a non-committal hum as they proceed to their respective starting lanes.

Mikasa stops at the right-side lane while he walks further to the left lane.

“Looks like they’re ready!” Hange says, observing that the two Ackermans have already drawn their swords and grapples.

“Very well. On my count.” The Commander announces. “3, 2, 1. Advance!”

Both dark-haired soldiers shoot their hooks at the exact same moment and propel into the forest. In his lane, Levi sees a few targets positioned some distance in front of him. Angling his blades sidewards, he increases his speed and twists from left to right, effectively beheading the stationary targets in the blink of an eye.

In the other lane, Mikasa slices through the neck of one mannequin and sees a shadow flash in her periphery. She promptly maneuvers herself upwards to the sky and she shoots her hooks into the wooden body of the airborne target before swerving towards its nape. As she dives back to the forest, she sees its severed head free-falling and Levi decapitating another flying target some distance away from her.

They continue flying through the forest, leaving scattered trails of severed wooden heads and destroyed targets in their wake. A lone target then sails towards the sky, nearly halfway in between their lanes.

They propel towards it, with Levi’s grappling hooks latching onto its left side and Mikasa’s onto its right. Realizing that they’ve both claimed the target, they share a quick look mid-flight.

Synchronizing their timing, they angle their blades and simultaneously swerve. Twin streaks of silver fly across the sky from both directions as they strike the nape and send the head hurtling off the body.

A yellow flare is then shot upwards in the wake of their attack – indicating that it was the last target, thus signaling the end of the exhibition.

As they descend back towards the ground, Levi turns to Mikasa, a knowing look in his eyes. She smiles slightly.

It’s another draw, then.

---

“Woah. Did you see that?!”

“They’re amazing!”

“The Ackermans really are the best!”

Murmurs of praise flow from the recruits scattered amongst tree branches at the end of the exhibition. Amidst the awestruck commentary, Erwin quietly observes as his best soldiers make their descent.

From behind him, Hange and Mike have their own exchange. “I’ve seen them in combat countless times already, but I can never get over just how good they are together!" Hange says, a broad grin on their face. "Before, I thought that no one could ever keep up with Levi. But then Mikasa came along!"

“I’ll say.” Mike comments. “Ackermans are really something else.”

Their Commander hums, catching their attention.

“Something on your mind, Erwin?” The Titan-scientist prompts.

“There is.” Erwin confirms. “I think it’s about time we have another meeting with the other section commanders.”

---

THE NEXT DAY

“Captain Levi. Lieutenant Mikasa. May I come in?”

Levi briefly wonders why Moblit is alone at their door before responding. “Come in.”

The door opens, and the Executive Officer enters and salutes them. Both Levi and Mikasa return the gesture from their respective desks.

“What does Hange want?” The captain asks, noting that the section commander would send Moblit to them if they were too busy with research or anything Titan-related.

“Section Commander Hange is with Commander Erwin and the other section commanders, Sir.” Moblit explains, his hands clasped behind his back. “I’ve been ordered to come get you and the Lieutenant.”

Mikasa raises her brows in mild surprise. “What is this meeting about?”

“I wasn’t told, Ma’am. Section Commander Hange merely told me to escort you to the strategy room.”

“Tch.” Levi grumbles. “Typical of Hange to keep us in suspense.” He then moves to stand. “Well, we better go and see what they want.”

---

Once they enter the room, they are greeted with the sight of Erwin seated in the middle of the long strategy table. Hange, Mike, and the other section commanders occupy the seats by his sides.

As per protocol, both Ackermans salute the Commander, who raises his own fist to his chest.

Erwin then gestures to the vacant chairs in front of them. “Have a seat.”

“So, what’s going on?” Levi asks once seated, crossing his arms over his chest. “Looks pretty serious since you called all of your section commanders, Erwin.”

“It is.” Erwin confirms. “We’ve been discussing Mikasa’s current position.”

The captain’s eyes widen slightly, not having expected that. His lieutenant wears a similar expression. “What about my current position?” She asks, a tinge of uncertain surprise in her tone.

Erwin’s expression remains level until the curve of his mouth slightly tilts upward. “It’s been decided that you are now ready to be a captain.”

Mikasa’s eyes widen even further at the news, a layer of astonishment on her features.

“So, you’re taking my lieutenant away from me.” Levi says dryly. In the back of his mind, he recalls that Mikasa was partnered with him to prepare her for the role because she was too young for it 3 years ago.

He looks at the soon-to-be captain. While Levi agrees that she’s now ready, he feels a twinge of disappointment. “I suppose good things have to end at some point.”

“Actually…” Erwin’s slight smile remains. “…I’m not.”

The Commander’s response simply served to perplex the two Ackermans. Mikasa’s brows furrow in confusion. “I’m sorry, but I don’t quite understand.”

“Me neither.” Levi narrows his eyes, bemused. “Tch. Always the cryptic.”

Erwin lets the small smile linger for a moment before resuming his level expression. “It’s been agreed that Mikasa is ready for more responsibility.”

The Commander then turns his attention to the woman in question. “Mikasa, your performance, both as an individual soldier and as Levi’s lieutenant, has been exemplary. You can keep a calm mind during the direst of situations, you also possess good strategic acumen, and you are undoubtedly one of our best soldiers. We all agree that you are ready to be a captain.”

“The usual protocol would be to give you command of your own squad. But it’s been agreed that keeping you and Levi together in the same unit will be more strategic and beneficial in the long run.”

Erwin goes silent for a moment, gauging their reactions. Levi’s expression is mostly neutral, save for the annoyed tilt of his brows – no doubt a response to his earlier ambiguous answer. To his right, Mikasa sits quietly, waiting for him to continue.

“We’ve reviewed past expedition reports and evaluated both of your performances. You match Levi more closely than any other soldier in the legion. In the past, no one has been able to coordinate with him in attack sequences because of the gap in skill levels. But your respective abilities complement each other in battle, and your teamwork is remarkable. The success rates of missions you’ve had together are also the highest in the entire Survey Corps.”

“You guys are obviously the dream team!” Hange chimes in. “We’d never dream of breaking you up!”

Though Mikasa maintains her calm demeanor, she allows a small smile at the assessment. “Thank you. But I still don’t understand how me being made captain relates to all of this.”

“You performed very well as a lieutenant. And your talents will be better utilized if you were given more responsibility.” Their superior explains. “So, it’s been decided that you and Levi will be made co-captains.”

Mikasa’s lips part slightly in surprise. Their Commander continues to deliver more unexpected news.

“Co-captains?” There’s skepticism in Levi’s tone, but it’s not unkind. “How will that work?”

“You will both have the same level of authority, but your areas of responsibility will be delineated to avoid conflict.” Erwin replies smoothly, having planned the details carefully. “Your respective authorities are autonomous from one another when dealing with your corresponding obligations. But if either one of you is unavailable, the one present will also assume the former’s responsibilities.”

Levi remains quiet for a moment, contemplating the news. “Hmm. That makes sense.”

The Commander makes another slight smile at the remark before turning back to Mikasa. “Do you have any concerns or questions about this arrangement, Mikasa?

She glances at Levi. He’s watching her as he waits for her response.

“None at all.”

---

Levi sits on the common sofa back in their office as he pours tea into two cups before handing one to Mikasa.

“To your promotion.” Gripping his own teacup by the rim, Levi raises it to her, a small smile on his face.

She takes a moment to silently marvel at the rare display of social geniality from her now co-captain before smiling. She clinks her cup against his, careful not to hit his fingers.

When she takes a sip of her tea, she raises a brow at the taste. “Did we run out of chamomile?”

Levi takes a drink before replying. “No. There’s still plenty.”

Her brows further rise upward in response. The tea of the day depended on who was preparing it, so Mikasa was mildly surprised that Levi brewed something else other than his preferred blend.

Seeing her confusion, he elaborates. “Black tea isyour favorite, right?”

Surprised, Mikasa blinks at the comment before nodding. “It is.” She smiles at the thoughtful gesture. “Thank you.”

“It’s your promotion, after all.” He says before taking another drink.

She chuckles lightly. “We’re finally equals now.”

The remark was meant in jest, but Levi stills briefly at it.

“We’ve always been equals …” he states evenly, lowering his cup from his mouth, “… barring the formalities in rank.”

He meets her gaze. “Have I ever treated you as anything less?” He asks, voice serious.

The question causes Mikasa to pause. Even though Levi had a higher rank, he always asked for her ideas and considered her input. And despite having more experience, he never once underestimated her skills.

She shakes her head after a moment of contemplation. “No.”

“Well, there you have it.” He says, holding her stare for a moment longer before he resumes drinking his tea.

Mikasa likewise returns to her cup, sipping the warm liquid. “I’m glad we’re still in the same squad.” She admits, tone soft. They had built a unique rapport over the years, and she realized that she would miss it if she was re-assigned.

Another small smile flits across his face. “Same here.”

---

End Note: I've come up with a lot of ideas for this fic. And it's gonna take time for me to fully flesh them out. Haha. That being said, I really can't guarantee regular updates because of real-life stuff. *cries* But I will try my best regardless. Let me know what you think so far! Comments and reviews would be very much appreciated!

#rivamika #rivamika fic #mikasa x levi #levimika #levi ackerman #mikasa ackerman #levi x mikasa #aot #snk

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osakaso5 · 3 years

Text

La Danse Macabre

Episode 29: A False Heaven

Chapter Index

Reue: I demand an explanation!

Misericorde: ...Hmm. You're acting unusually unruly, Commander.

Reue: My... my subordinate, Schau, is dead!!!

Reue: Why did he need to lose his life to capture the Celestial!?

Reue: What are you people hiding..!?

Misericorde: Hmm. You leave me with no choice...

Misericorde: I suspect you'll hit me if I stay silent. Ah, how very frightening.

Reue: Bastard..!

Misericorde: Where is the Celestial?

Reue: He was injured... We treated the worst of his wounds and locked him in a cell.

Reue: He's dangerous. I know you might call what I did blasphemy, but it had to be done.

Misericorde: I care not. You won't hear such critiques from me.

Reue: ......?

Misericorde: Allow me to explain to you the long and victorious history of our church.

- - - -

Arme: ...I'm back on the Ark.

Arme: Back in a small box of a room. ...It brings back memories.

Arme: Ow...

Arme: Oh, right. I was shot. ...I suppose I've gotten used to being in pain.

Arme: .......

Arme: ...I want to go outside.

- - - -

Reue: I-it can't be...

Reue: The Celestial was a weapon created to destroy other nations...

Misericorde: We've a decisive lead compared to the world below. The Celestial has lost its original purpose.

Reue: But, Schau...

Misericorde: Short exposure to the Celestial should bear no ill effects. He must've received the full brunt of the curse when the Celestial was injured.

Reue: Why... why didn't you say anything..? If we'd know, we could've dealt with him appropriately..!

Misericorde: Fool. Do you truly think we'd let such sensitive information fall to the hands of just anyone?

Misericorde: The Celestial is now an object of worship. Its divinity must be preserved.

Misericorde: We can't have people finding out that its true nature is that of a deadly poison. Why, it'd lose its holy status in an instant.

Reue: .......

Misericorde: There's also the matter of our city's blood-soaked history.

Misericorde: Who would want to hear of such a thing? Atrocities committed by their beloved home?

Misericorde: 'Tis much better to tell them we've always inhabited the sky. Create a myth, with the Celestial at its center. ...Uhuhu.

Misericorde: After all, we're an entire millenium ahead of the world below, in terms of technology.

Misericorde: If they were to develop culturally, we'd simply destroy them, leaving no people or records behind.

Misericorde: The agricultural techniques used to sustain us at a low cost of resources, our industrial machinery, and our science. To those beneath us, they are as miracles.

Misericorde: 'Tis a man-made Heaven. But it needs a Hell below to prosper.

Reue: Good lord...

Reue: ...But wait, that doesn't make sense. If the Celestial is so dangerous to everyone around him, why hasn't he harmed any of your people?

Reue: ......! Or Qual! As the Celestial's attendant, he was raised alongside the boy.

Misericorde: You're a smart man, and as such, I urge you to think harder still.

Misericorde: What do we all have in common?

Reue: ......!

Reue: The Mark of the Saint.

Misericorde: Very good.

Misericorde: As the Celestial's attendant, Qual was made to join the church.

Misericorde: Because of this, he has been given the Mark. The Mark being the only way to stave off the curse, of course.

Reue: .......

Misericorde: What's the matter? You have an awfully sour look upon your face.

Reue: Our peace was sustained by this lie all along..?

Reue: And you've been using a young child to kill people..!?

Misericorde: Oh? ...Huhuhu.

Misericorde: Yes, 'twas all a lie... A falsehood passed on by our forebearers.

Misericorde: I wonder, what must you do now that you know the truth? We need faith in the Celestial in order to preserve our society.

Misericorde: You already know, don't you? After all, you've spent all these years managing the city with your helpers from the Unity Order, have you not?

Reue: .......

Misericorde: If you were, hypothetically, to expose the truth to the believers... What then? How would you subdue the ensuing chaos, and how would all those people live their lives afterwards?

Misericorde: ...Herein lies the reason I've told you the turth. 'Tis because I know you'll choose to maintain the status quo.

Misericorde: I've come to know you well over the years. You're a fine man...

Misericorde: ...And so consistently unable to pick a side.

Reue: ......!

Misericorde: Uhuhuhuhu. I know you did not want this burden to bear.

[Tap]

Misericorde: .......? Who goes there!?

Reue: ......!

[Creak]

[Slam]

Reue: They're gone...

Misericorde: Goodness, did someone eavesdrop on us?

Reue: ........

- - - -

Arme: It's so noisy...

Arme: What's going on?

[Thump]

Arme: .......!

[Crash]

Arme: ...Ah... ah...

Qual: ........

Arme: Q-Qual...

Qual: This whole time, I've been thinking.

Qual: What was I doing? What was I after?

Arme: ........

Qual: I never did find the answer. I pondered Libel's words again and again, but it felt like my mind was stuck in a labyrinth with no way out.

Qual: But now, I know the truth. All the things that tied me down were meaningless...

Arme: ......?

Qual: Which is why I'll obey my own will from now on. I'll do what must be done.

[Clang]

Arme: Eek..!

- - - -

Unity Order Troop: C-Captain Qual! What are you doing!? Return to your cell, or--

Qual: I can't do that.

[Thud]

Unity Order Troop: Uaargh!?

Arme: ......!?

Qual: I'll...

Qual: I'll help you. ...Arme.

To be continued...

#idolish7 #la danse macabre #translation #event story

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renaxwrites · 4 years

Note

Hello! May I ask scenario about the Nekoma manager at the national training camp (where Miya, Kageyama, Hoshiumi etc.)? She was called there as the best manager. And Atsumu fall in love with her.

Nekoma Manager Pt. 2

- (Atsumu)

a/n: lol y’all probably thought this would be a short scenario but nope I like to write long stuff hehe so here ya go!! I hope you enjoy it 💘 pt. 1 pt. 3 pt. 4

Life as the Nekoma manager was steady. Hectic, and practically babysitting twelve hyper menaces, but steady. You had become the team’s backbone, the one they would turn to to make sure things were up to par.

At this point in time, it was pretty evident that your analytical talent had begun to shine through. It had gotten to where coaches from other teams would seek you out to ask for quick guidance, whether it be for a specific player, a play they used, or on the team’s connectivity overall. Many knew you by name.

On one particular day, came a couple of surprises.

“Alrighty boys, huddle up! There’s a couple of announcements to be made,” the coach boomed. The team quickly circled around you and the coach.

“As you know, the All-Japan Youth Training Camp is coming up. Luckily, we’ve been fortunate enough to have one of our members be extended an invitation!” the coach beamed. The players excitedly began to exchange looks, as if they already knew who it was. You were curious as well, with a few possibilities running through your mind as to who it could be.

“Now, this member hasn’t been with us too long, but they have definitely made their mark on the team, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that I am very proud that their talent is being recognized. So, without further ado, go ahead and give your congratulations to y/n!!”

It took you a second to process, and within that one second the whole team managed to suffocate you into a giant group hug.

“Congrats y/n-chan!!” “You’re the best, you deserve it!!” “We love you y/n!!” “Remember us when you’re famous!!”

Once they release you and allow you to finally breathe, there was one more surprise.

“Congratulations, kitten. The team is so fortunate to have you as a manager, and as both a thank you and congratulations, the team decided to pitch in and get you this,” Kuroo hands you a thin wrapped box.

The team is eager for you to open it, and inside you find a sleek, brand new iPad along with an Apple Pencil.

You tear up, “This is for me? You guys didn’t have to!”

Lev pipes up, “All of us felt bad about your hand cramps and paper cuts from hand-writing all your notes. You always care for us, so we wanted to do something for you.”

You’re speechless, a tear slipping in gratitude. Instead of thinking of what to say, you take the iPad out of the box and tell everyone to scooch in for a team selfie.

“Everyone say Nekoma!” “NEKOMAAA”

You made it your wallpaper.

A few days later, you’re on the train on your way to the training camp. Just as you worry about being alone in the sea of people, you spot a familiar face.

“Tobio-kun!”

The blueberry-haired boy turns toward the sound of your voice. “Oh, hello y/n-san. Where are you on your way to?”

You look down at your directions. “I’m on my way to the youth training camp! I actually got invited to help manage. They want me to analyze their players, kinda what I do now, but a little more intense. I hope I’m going the right way though,” you nervously laugh.

Kageyama reassures you. “Oh, I’m on my way there as well. Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure we’re going the right way...this should be interesting for the both of us then.”

Turns out, you did go the right way. You’re soon met with the coaches in charge and introduce yourself, eager to get started.

Once the formalities were out of the way, one coach began to introduce you. “This is y/n, who is not only Nekoma’s manager, but one of the best in volleyball analytics we’ve ever seen so far. She has the same level of authority of any of us coaches. She is here to benefit your growth, therefore, if she wants you to do something, you need to do it. Understood?”

Everyone in the line nodded. Soon, you were going down the line of players, having them state their name, year, school, and position. You had uploaded pictures of each player that the coaches provided, and jotted down the general info underneath. God, this new tablet was so convenient.

Things were running smoothly until you reach the last player in line, a confident one with a lazy smirk plastered on his face.

Atsumu Miya. Second year. Inarizaki High School. Setter.

You’re scribbling out a couple of footnotes when you hear, “So, you’re our personal cheerleader for the most part, right? Well, you don’t have to critique me too much, since I was number one high school setter and got ‘best server’ at the Inter-high. Just in case you wanted to write that down too,” you look up to meet a sly wink and grin.

You put your tablet down at your side and the other hand on your hip. Everyone had their eyes on you before, but they were definitely paying attention now.

“Atsumu Miya, is it? Listen. This not only goes for you, but for all the players here. I may know a couple of you personally, but the second drills start, I’m observing each of you as if I’m seeing you for the first time. So anything you’ve done before stepping foot in here, you need to leave at the door. I’m going to analyze every single one of you with the same level of intensity to be fair. So I’m more of a coach than a cheerleader, I think.” Your statement wiped the smirk off his face, but there was still a glint of amusement in his eyes.

You turn and walk back to the coaches, who now give the vibe that they take you even more seriously. The main coach turns to you and suggests, “On that note, I think we should start our warm ups. How should we start?”

You think for a moment, and propose, “I think we should do some across-the-floor serves just to get them warmed up, and so I can see them individually.”

“Alright, you heard her! Let’s line up and begin!”

The first day came to a close, so you began to help some of the boys pack up the equipment. You’re taking down the net with Kageyama and Chigaya, who had reunited. They’re careful with their words as they bring up the earlier incident. “You know, if he ever bothers you again, just let us know.” “Yeah, it won’t sit right with us knowing if you’re ever uncomfortable.”

You wave your hand in dismissal. “I’ll keep that in mind, but it’s okay. I can handle it.”

Out of nowhere you hear, “Just know if you ever want me to teach him, let me know. I’ll clean up that little filth. Only real scums disrespect women.” You turn around to find Sakusa tenderly looking at you, only to turn to Miya’s direction and stare daggers into his figure.

“It’s okay boys, I’m fine, really. If I ever feel uncomfortable with anyone here, I’ll be sure to report it to someone. Okay? I do appreciate you all,” you reassure them, just in time to have the coaches summon you to start their strategy meeting.

Later on at dinner, you’re sitting with the coaches, exchanging funny and wild stories of things you’ve seen at matches. Kageyama and Chigaya sit together, eating and making idle chit-chat, when Atsumu goes and pulls up a chair to join them.

“So, Kageyama. You know y/n, don’t you?” Miya inquires.

Kageyama finishes chewing. “Yeah, Like they said, she’s Nekoma’s manager. She’s a pretty good friend to both myself and Karasuno. Really nice. I’m not surprised she got invited here. Extremely accurate in what she does.”

Miya chuckles. “You seem to know her pretty well. Do ya know if she’s single, too?”

That catches Kageyama off guard. “Well...uh...I’m not sure. I think so, it might have been mentioned at the summer camp...I don’t think we should talk about her business like that, what’s it to you?”

Once again, Miya has a lazy grin on. “Relax, it’s just general curiosity. At what I said to her this morning, it was only to get a feel for her vibe. That’s the first time a girl genuinely challenged me, most girls usually flirt when I talk to them. Now that I know she wasn’t, I’m kind of interested. She’s got that spunk ya hardly find, ya know?” He looks at you thoughtfully.

Kageyama snorts. “Yeah, good luck at that,” Chigaya shakes his head.

The next couple of days go by. Miya may have seemed to be joking, but he was actually serious when he said he was interested.

At first, it was innocent. He apologized for what he said, and made sure to let you know that he takes you seriously in your position. He then began to take good note of your critiques, immediately correcting anything that you suggested needed to be improved.

At some point, his interest began to grow. The two of you began to converse a little more, starting to get to know each other a little more personally. It was then he would offer you sweet compliments and subtle flirtations. These would go over your head, thinking he was just being polite, but the rest of the players deemed it obvious, and began to be a little protective.

There were times when a slight spark was shared. When Atsumu would accidentally brush against you, or when you would adjust his hands to make sure they were in the correct position for the drill. You didn’t want to put too much thought into it, but you could feel yourself blush every time. You usually would counter it by saying something sarcastic. But if only you knew that your playful teasing was watering Atsumu’s growing feelings.

“Y/n-san, have you ever been on a date before?”

You’re caught off guard from Miya’s question, and look of from the plays you were studying.

“Nope.”

“Really? You mean to tell me that someone as feisty and exasperating as you has never gone out with anyone?” you can hear the teasing in his voice. And a hint of something else, too.

You roll your eyes and push his shoulder with yours. You fail to notice how he leaned in a little more than before.

“No, Miya-kun. As hard as it is to believe, no one has ever had the courage to ask me.”

He presses his shoulder to yours in return.

“Well, what if someone at this camp wanted to take you out? What would you say to them?”

You feel his intense gaze on you, so you turn and stare just as deeply back.

“I would tell them that they need to beat Nekoma in order to take me on a date.”

He smirks, his eyes lingering on your lips for a split second. But it was long enough for you to notice. “Sounds like a deal to me, then.”

You raise a brow, “Oh? And who’s asking?”

Atsumu gets up and begins to stretch. “Just curious, is all.”

The camp had come to a close, and you were all bidding your good-byes. Kageyama and Chigaya offer to walk along with you back to the train station. You begin to walk out the doors when you hear someone call out your name.

You look back to see Miya raising his hand to you in farewell.

“Just so you know, y/n-chan, I plan on beating Nekoma very soon. Start thinking of somewhere you’d want to eat!”

You giggle and wave your hand in return. “We’ll see, Atsumu Miya.”

#haikyu!!#haikyuu!! imagines #miya atsumu #atsumu miya x reader #nekoma #all-japan intensive training camp #rena imagines

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nietp · 3 years

Text

I haven't yet read the story in question so I won't say anything about it. What I want to talk about is what aesthetic theory the author of that article is pushing, and using that Isabel Fall's story as a springboard for, by defending artists against "Puritanism". She warns us against the following, "moralistic" way to judge art : "It’s a reflexive model of critique, a rejection of evaluating art on its own merits. In a way it takes the place of criticism entirely, ignoring aesthetic concerns in favor of moral ones." I'm sorry but when are we going to move on from this cold cold take that gets reheated every 6 months? Yes twitter stays unwilling to read and couldn't find 2 critical thoughts between all its users but this "moral/ethical criteria entirely replace aesthetic criteria and deprive critiques of that good good complex art" complaint is reheated and agitated as a grave danger each year, and that complaint is portrayed as progressive when it is, quite literally, just a reconduction of the Kantian aesthetic judgment. Let's not even get started on the fact that the author of the article conflates tweeting vitriolic hate about a book you didn't read with criticizing the overwhelming amount of sexual violence and rape in TV shows and movies (namely here, in Game of Thrones) and how it contributes to normalizing that violence. Game of Thrones features 50 acts of rape in the show, 200 in the books but somehow that shouldn't be seen as normalizing rape? "A full decade of highly publicized moralistic opposition to the blockbuster television program Game of Thrones has helped to further mainstream such conflicts. The show’s depictions of rape and other forms of sexual violence drew frequent assertions that even portraying such actions equated to endorsing them." In itself, obviously portraying rape doesn't equate to endorsing it, but portraying it repeatedly, gratuitously and without dealing with it in a critical manner does normalize it and yes, does make the creators look like they're endorsing it, I don't feel like that's such a crazy puritanical assumption. Such "mainstream" conflicts also didn't stop the show to go on for 8 seasons so I think it's fair to think that the "moral concerns" haven't taken over entirely yet huh... How come saying we should allow art that makes space for "life’s intrinsic complexity" (which is all well and good) somehow immediately means that artists have no "responsibility" over their work and that any moral concerns should be dismissed when it comes to art, otherwise it's a "retreat into the black and white moral absolutism of adolescence, or theocracy"? She follows that Game of Thrones rape scenes comment by saying: "That someone reacts with hurt to art doesn’t make that art dangerous, and claiming that all art that’s capable of causing pain is inherently toxic is a solipsistic nightmare in which a reader’s personal experience becomes an act of violence committed against them by an author whom they likely do not know." Again, I don't see how a trans woman writing a story that was interpreted as transphobic is in anyway similar to a cis straight man creating novels where women are repeatedly raped, but besides that, it's a bit absurd to argue that because our experience of an artwork is personal and we don't know the author, the fact that art can be hurtful is therefore solely on us. How can you argue that we shouldn't let moral concerns cloud our aesthetic judgement, and in the same breath argue that we need "painful, difficult art", stories that "constitute an outlet for the suffering of marginalized artists raised in bigoted, imperialist cultures, a way to process the poison we’re spoon-fed from birth", aka a moral justification of that kind of art? This is so painfully close to the Claire Bishop debacle all over again, arguing that most participative art is too "PC" and "Christian", and therefore aesthetically worthless, unlike art that provokes "discomfort, frustration, unease", COMPLEX ART that is always SUPERIOR. Guys this is literally just Kant. You're just being Kantian. 🤪

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

Text

The Dragon Egg (Parts 19-25)

Another set of chapters for @secrettunnelatla’s event.

Chapter 19 Leather For Sequin

She should be eating better, should be better hydrated, should bathe more, should exercise more, should be sleeping better. She finds it harder to do these things at all, much less to an optimal degree. Sleeping is especially hard, having favored doing so on her belly. It helps little that the baby seems to be particularly active when she is trying to sleep with its kicks and squirms. She still can’t get used to it, she doesn’t think she will. It leaves her feel queasier than the morning sickness ever had.

Even if she were as physically comfortable as possible she doesn’t think she’d sleep. Her mind is stuck on Seicho and on all of the articles she has scrolled through during the past few days. Articles that drag her name through the mud and articles that praise Blue Talon for things she should be credited for. She lies awake, staring at the ceiling, hands clasped over her belly. She finds the baby’s foot--or maybe it is a hand--and rubs over the spot, a fruitless attempt to get her to settle down. All the while her mind runs in circles over the headline, ‘Fire’s Reign’s Fire Lord Ozai Denounces Pregnant Daughter’. She didn’t think that he would so publicly condemn her. She should have; he does, afterall, have an image to protect. As if he hasn’t already tarnished it with his binge drinking. She imagines that Zuko is probably getting a good kick out of it. She brings her rubbing to a stop and closes her eyes.

She gets little sleep, but enough of it that she has to be woken by Zhao. She doesn’t know why he bothers, it isn’t as though she will make use of the day. But the man is annoyingly persistent, refusing to leave the living room until she declares that she has to get dressed.

She slips into one of Koemi’s dresses. Eventually she is going to have to pester Zhao to help her buy at least one outfit that suits her aesthetic more, his wife’s attire is absolutely gaudy. Today’s disaster is orange with a sunflower print, which might not have been so horrible if the sunflowers weren’t purple and pink in color. She feels more ridiculous than usual when she emerges into the kitchen.

“I have some good news for you.” Zhao smiles.

“You’re going to take me back to that volcano you hated so much and pitch me into it.” She mumbles.

The man looks horror-stricken. If she weren’t so low she certainly would have laughed.

“I managed to get you a record deal under a new label.”

“Please tell me that it isn’t Uncle Iroh’s sketchy basement recording studio.”

“It isn’t. It is another label that I work for.”

“And which one is that?”

“WSLSE.”

Apparently her reaction isn’t satisfactory.

“Wan Shi Tong’s Library Of Sound Entertainment.” He clarifies. “You left a good impression on the man. Raava has also been speaking fondly of you.” He slaps a print out onto the table and pushes it to her. “You have been visiting the wrong websites.”

Her brows crinkle. “You have no right to…”

“Monitor my children’s browsing activity?” He asks. “My children still listen to Happy Hei Bai and my wife doesn’t follow music news. That leaves one person who would search up Blue Talon over and over again.”

She folds her arms. “What of it?”

“You’re making yourself miserable.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “All of this talent is just...confined to a couch.” He pauses. “Which is why I took it upon myself to get you signed to a new label…”

“With what band, Zhao!”

“You’re a soloist now.”

“A soloist?” She sputters.

“You don’t exactly mesh well with people.”

No doubt he had overheard her screeching at Seicho. “And yet, I can’t seem to do without them.”

He chuckles. “That’s where we disagree. You have a divine voice, to have it buried under wailing guitars and pounding drums is a shame. The idea I pitched is to have you go acapella and truly showcase your voice for everything that it is.”

Azula’s face pales. “In other words, there’s no room for error. Mistakes are easily detectable.”

“You aren’t one for mistakes and error.”

She frowns rather deeply and gestures to her bump. Ever the gentleman Zhao tiptoes his way back a statement or two. “You won’t be alone, you’ll have a team of fantastic producers and a very talented manager.”

Azula inhales through her nose.

“I dropped Blue Talent to focus on this new project…”

“Me.” Somehow she manages to frown more deeply still. “You dropped a band with a perfectly flawless trajectory for me. Since when do you take risks?”

“Since I found someone worth placing a bet on.”

“That’s what I am to you, a bet. A product.”

“A child.” Zhao cuts in. “I’ve known you since you were as young as my own little ones.”

She massages the bridge of her nose. “Zhao, Audio of Agni is a battle of the bands.”

His smile falters. “I am working on that.”

“Spirits, Zhao! What’s the point of putting me back in the studio if--”

“You don’t need Audio of Agni to make it big.” He mutters. “I don’t know what it is with you youths and hinging your entire careers on it. We didn’t have battle of the bands when I got into this industry. The Tui La’s didn’t part-take until the fourth event.”

“Zhao…”

He cuts her off once more, the audacity of the man. “We’re going to make a name for you regardless of Audio of Agni. And we’ll do it on raw talent alone.”

“Acapella artists never do well.”

“Acapella artists seldom do well. Most of them are generic. Their voices don’t stand out without instruments.”

“I’m known for metal music…”

“And you’re capable of ballads and operatics. With this project we’re going to put emphasis on your clean vocals. Once that takes off, we can take more risks--you can try doing acapella with those screaming vocals…”

This time she cuts him off. “What about piercings and tattoos says, ‘acapella and opera artist’?”

“Your vocals don’t have to match your looks. But if you must have it that way, we can swap out some of your piercings for less...bold ones. We can cover the tattoo. Your pregnancy might help with this new image.”

She cringes though she isn’t entirely opposed to a more elegant style of dress; she enjoys the glitz and glimmer every now and again. But, Agni, she can’t pull it off not when she has let herself go like this.

“Your first session will be tomorrow, I’ll send my wife shopping with you, you could use a wardrobe for photoshoots and what not.”

She only agrees so that she won’t have to beg the man to buy her better clothes.

Chapter 20 Dragon Tongue

It is daunting to see one of her monikers in the headlines again. To see it there in a more neutral, speculative light. ‘Blue Talon Vocalist Flies Again as Dragon Tongue’. She wishes that she could feel something other than dread, a growing sense that she is only building up momentum for a mightier, more embarrassing fall than her first one.

The announcement of her new single is daunting. And attempting to record a whole new extended play before Audio of Agni and the birth of her baby is twice that. Hama is adamant that she should be taking it much easier, especially since finding out that her baby might be born with an unusually low weight.

She thinks that she should be taking it slower. And yet she can’t afford anymore slacking. She has already wasted so much time sulking and moping and making a deeper mess of herself.

And so she is in the recording booth again and with new material. Material and lyrics that are so much rawer. So much more painful to sing through. They are confessions of shame and inadequacy. Laments of betrayal. And ballads of loneliness. And she can’t hide any of the pain behind indistinguishable growls or loud guitar shreds. It is all crisp and vivid. Open. Naked. She isn’t sure that she wants to do this anymore. Not when every session brings her closer to tears. Closer to a total meltdown.

Every session reminds her of what she lost. Every session reminds her that what she is doing now is nothing compared to what she could have been doing. Every session reminds her of Mai and TyLee and of Seicho.

And when her mind isn’t ailing, her body is aching. Aching in ways that she hadn’t anticipated. Her feet hurt so bad, they hurt when she is sitting down. Her ankles are swollen--Hama assures her that this is normal. As normal as the persistent ache in her back and the odd nose bleeds and congestion that she gets every now and then. On those congested days, she can’t even work.

On other days she finds herself short of breath. Her growing baby is pushing against her lungs. On those days her voice is so weak and breathy. She records regardless. Perhaps she would have allowed herself a break if Zhao weren’t so adamant that the breathy quality gives her a one of a kind sound. An ethereal sound.

She is inclined to disagree. She just sounds weak and weird. She pushes through, she always pushes through.

She promises herself that, whatever she does, she will not read the critiques of her new work. Her self-esteem is already in tatters. They talk more about her pregnancy and what it is doing to her body than they do her work. In that regard she almost hopes that Dragon Tongue is such a flop that it will eclipse that sort of talk.

It is well into the evening. The studio gets so much quieter in the evening. And in the silence her loneliness is emphasized. She remembers late nights of purposely poor vocals and drinking. Of idle chatter between songs. She remembers the crashing of a drumsets when Chan forgets to watch where he steps. She remembers stupid cover songs when they had time to kill. She remembers laughing. She remembers happiness. She remembers friendship.

Chapter 21 A Phoenix In The Winter

His world is in a perpetual winter. A little is no longer enough. He no longer needs food or love or inspiration. He no longer needs a band. He only needs a white winter and his presents come in pouches and needles.

He is losing his senses; of time, of himself, of everything really. One day is the same as the next and none of them bring him any closer to true stardom. His bursts of artificial energy only result in disjointed lyrics and half-assed ideas.

There is no organization and no real attempt to turn them into full songs. He has missed shows to the point of his tour being cancelled. It is so much money down the drain that even Iroh has turned his head. And when the word ‘rehab’ falls from his lips, Zuko runs. Perhaps not literally, but he hasn’t spoken to his uncle since, snubbing all attempts at conversation.

He is perpetually twitchy and agitated and Iroh makes a mistake. He enters the room, guns blazing, “Zuko, get in the car.” It is firm but not firm enough for him to put the needle down. The man sighs, “alright, nephew…”

The minute his hands take him by the shoulders, he is on the ground and Zuko is standing over him seething. “Don’t tell me what to do! What are you, anyways!? A fat, lazy, washed up rockstar! I don’t need advice from you!” But he does, he needs it more than ever. He yanks Iroh up and drags him to the door. He knows that uncle is holding back. He would be flat on his own ass if he wasn’t.

“Zuko, don’t do this. Let me help you get off of this path.” He hears as the door slams.

He is already too far down this path. His only option is to keep on walking. Walking down his cracked and lonely, frigid path. It is desolate now that drumsets, guitars, and microphones no longer clutter the street. He doesn’t pass many people. It is just he and the snow and it is falling thicker than ever.

Iroh hasn’t dropped him from the label yet, but he isn’t making anything of it and so it comes as no surprise to him when TyLee informs him that she would like to try her hand at the school’s gymnastics squad. He lets her go because she can have something. She can make something of herself.

He is less surprised when Mai declares that she is going to write a few poems or, “maybe just focus on school.”

It is fine with him, he doesn’t want to drag them under with him. And so he sits alone in the dark, huddled in a corner rocking back and forth, enveloped in a drug induced anxiety. A state of panic and paranoia that he can’t seem to stave off.

He is deep into it when his phone rings. “We need to talk.” Says the voice on the other end.

“Not right now, Mai. I can’t talk right now, Mai.”

She exhales long and audibly. “Yeah, that’s just it, Zuko. You never want to talk. You never want to do anything…” she backtracks some. “You only want to do one thing. You’re high right now aren’t you?”

“Yes...no?” He doesn’t remember. He isn’t sure if he is coming down or in the middle of a bad trip. “Mai? Mai, are you there.”

“I was there, Zuko. But I’m not now. Not anymore. I can’t be.” The line goes dead.

Phoenixes aren’t meant for snow. It is no wonder he is dying.

.oOo.

The school has been closed for hours now. The windows are as dark as he feels within. He scales his way up the roof. Up to the place where his hopes were born and discussed. He can practically taste the cigarette smoke, the anticipation, the energy that came with a dream in the making.

In its wake is a stale taste, he will drown it with another. He pops the cap off of his beer and gives it a good chug, music blasts loudly and aggressively through his headphones. He drapes them around his neck so that he may hear the cars below and the wind around him. It rustles his flannel shirt.

It’s a nice night, clear and warm. Spangled by a vast array of stars that he can’t seem to reach no matter how high he climbs, no matter how far he reaches. He lays back, he wishes he could relax but he doesn’t have enough coke in his system for it. He sits up for another good drink and then another until he feels a buzz. He doesn’t have enough bottles to take him any further. He supposes he doesn’t really need the help, he has his own woes and hopelessness to propel him the rest of the way.

He stands up and makes his way to the very edge of the roof. He swings his arms back and forth in preparation. He takes a deep breath, the song drones on. He takes another breath. Swings his arms. He’ll finish the song and that’s it. Then he’ll take flight.

He inhales deeply as the song fades out. His phone buzzes in his pocket. He takes it out, inclined to throw it as hard as he can; at this point, Mai can go fuck herself. But it isn’t Mai’s name that decorates the screen. It isn’t TyLee’s. It isn’t even Iroh’s.

He doesn’t know why, but he picks up the phone. For a moment he only hears breathing, breathing and perhaps sniffling. It takes him a moment to realize what he is hearing, but before he can make anything of it, she speaks, “Zuzu?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Zuzu, I really need someone. I need you.”

Chapter 22 The Dragon & The Phoenix

His chest constricts and he grits his teeth. “I need someone too.” He turns off his music and kicks the empty bottles, they shatter upon the pavement below. “Where are you?” The line goes dead and a text comes through.

By all means, he shouldn’t be driving, but he climbs behind the wheel of Iroh’s car. Spirits, he hopes that he doesn't wreck it. Iroh is already furious.

Truth be told he hadn't known what to expect. Throughout the drive images flashed through his mind, each of them involving a drunkenly enraged Ozai and Azula huddled in the corner. When he reaches the studio he does fine her in the corner. But she is alone.

Alone and very heavily pregnant. He thinks that he remembers reading about that somewhere but, like many other things, it had slipped his mind. For a moment he thinks that he got the wrong address, he doesn’t recognize her with her belly so big and her expression so tired and defeated.

Even if he did have the wrong address, he wouldn’t have left. He couldn’t have. He can’t remember the last time he had sobered up so abruptly. With fumbling fingers he ties his headphones tightly around her arm just above her wrist.

Her other hand comes to squeeze his own wrist. “You don’t have to, it’s not that deep.” She mumbles softly.

“Not that deep!?”

She doesn’t meet his eyes. “I changed my mind. It’s...it’s really not that deep, I just need a bandage.” She gestures vaguely towards the door. “There’s a first aid kit in the lobby.”

He gets up to leave and hesitates, casting a look back at her.

“Go on, Zuzu. I’m not going to do anything else. I...I don’t want to die.”

He wishes that he could say the same. He comes back with the first aid kit and begins bandaging her wrist only to have her slap his hand away with a curt, “I can do it myself.”

He scoffs, “then what the fuck am I here for?”

She flinches. “Nothing, never mind. You can go.”

He rubs his hands over his face. He hasn’t spoken to her in so long, he’d forgotten how she can be. Even when she’s asking for help she can’t swallow her pride. Even when she’s asking for help she’s intolerable. He almost does leave but he thinks that if he does she might just change her mind a second time. He sighs, “why did you ask me to come here if you don’t want my help?”

She holds her silence until he is on the very edge of frustration. “I want you, Zuzu. I don’t have anyone to talk to.”

“So I’m your last resort?”

She nods. At least he can commend her for her honesty.

“I think that I need to talk to you specifically.”

His brows furrow, “why do you think that?”

“Because you would understand.”

He tilts his head.

“What failure is like.” She elaborates.

He feels as though he has been punched in the gut. “Seriously, you called me here to insult me? I don’t need this shit right now, okay!”

She shakes her head vigorously. “I--no, that’s not what I meant.” She rubs her hands over her face. He cringes at the smear of blood she leaves behind. He doesn’t think that she has noticed. If she has, she doesn’t bother to wipe it away.

“What else can you mean?”

She thinks for a moment, “Empathy. I’m empathizing?”

He has to laugh. He face falls. It is his turn to clarify, “we’re a pathetic duo, aren’t we?”

She nods, “very.” She wipes the remaining tears from her eyes. “I suppose that it’s the rockstar lifestyle. The parts they don’t talk about…”

“Or it’s the father that raised us.” He grumbles. For once she doesn’t protest this. He wonders just what the man did to her. “What happened? You were doing so good.”

“So were you.” And with a shake of her head she adds, “no I wasn’t.”

“Neither was I…” He trails off.

“What happened…” she repeats the question back to him and then she rubs her good hand over her baby bump.

“Right. Yeah. That’ll do it.” He frowns. “Chan’s?”

“How’d you know?”

“He’s a total tool.” Zuko shrugs.

She laughs, a very quiet and sad sort of chuckle but a laugh no less. “What about you, Zuzu. I haven’t heard a thing about From Ashes To Phoenix since…”

“Since I went berserk and got arrested at my own concert? Yeah. Because there hasn’t been a thing to talk about since.”

“Not even one new song?”

“There’s no time for songs when you’re...when you’re…”

“On drugs?” She finishes. “Zuko, what happened to us? How did this happen?”

“It just did, I guess.” He frowns. It is much more complex than that. “Are you still with father, I’m sure that Iroh wouldn’t mind letting you stay with us. He probably needs a break from me.”

“I’m staying with Zhao. He got me a new record deal and…”

And Zuko is once again furious. Even when she’s falling, she’s still on her way up. She still has something going for her. She’s probably still getting good publicity. Hell, even bad publicity can take her far. It’s all about the spotlight and she decided to open her wrists. And with a baby in her belly. Perhaps that is why she changed her mind so quickly. Perhaps it is why she had made her initial decision. The anger passes as quickly as it had come over him. “I’m angry all the time.” He doesn’t mean to cut her off, it just falls from his lips. He hasn’t really gotten a chance to get it out.

“I can tell.” She replies. “It’s in your eyes.” She seems to hum to herself. “But you have Mai,TyLee, and Iroh, right?”

He shakes his head. “They’re all disappointed, mad, both?”

“Everyone, except Zhao--I guess--is angry with me.”

“For being pregnant?”

“For being...unbearable. You don’t even want to be here, Zuzu. I can tell.” “I don’t want to be anywhere, actually. It has nothing to do with you. Really, it doesn’t.” He pauses. “I was about to jump.”

“Why did you change your mind?”

“I was interrupted.”

She nods and then her eyes widen, only briefly, with understanding. “Why didn’t you call me?”

He almost tells her that it is because she is her. Instead he responds, “I didn’t think about it, I guess. Drugs do that.”

She nods again. And then her eyes light up. “You can record things with me! I won’t be alone anymore and you’ll be able to get back on track!”

“I can’t focus on music right now.”

And her face falls again.

“But you can still talk to me. I can go with you to appointments.” He offers.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Can I come with you to rehab?”

He rubs his hands over his face. “I guess. If Uncle is still willing to take me there.”

“He’s uncle. Of course he’ll still take you.”

Chapter 23 Life In The Embers

She feels both better and worse all at once. In a sense it had been liberating to let her emotions flood over, to get them out, to let herself reach the very bottom. There is a sense of calm that follows in its wake. A sense of calm that has compelled her to call Seicho and ask her if she could meet her in the recording studio. Only after the girl had said that she would think about it did Azula send her, her schedule for that week.

At the very least, she can talk to Zuko now. Even if much of their conversation has been getting him through the first stages of withdrawal. Truthfully it was nothing like she had expected.There was no shaking, no vomiting nor sweating. If she didn’t know him she would say that he wasn’t going through withdrawals at all. But she does know him well enough to know that he isn’t himself.

It has been six days since he’d found her with her bleeding wrists and five days since she’d accompanied him to his first rehab visit. Five days since Iroh, for the first time, looked at her with care and trust. Five days since she realized that she might not be left on her own with this baby. Five days and she is due to check in on Zuzu, if only to intimidate him into keeping on track.

She removes her studio headphones, hangs them up on their designated rack, and exits the recording booth.

“Done for the day?” Zhao asks.

Azula nods, “I promised Zuzu that I would meet him at The Serpant’s Pass Cafe. I’m ahead of schedule anyhow.”

“Very ahead. You’re only a song away from a full setlist.” Zhao agrees. “How about you take the day off. If you’re up for it, I can try to get in touch with a director and we can discuss a music video. It doesn’t have to be fancy…”

“I think that simplicity will work well for this new sound.” Azula agrees. “We’ll talk, Zhao.”

For the first time in a while, she leaves the recording studio with a smile. A smile and a sense that things will come together as they used to. She slips her sunglasses over her eyes and makes her way across the street as hastily and discreetly a possible. People are paying her attention again and it comes in the form of photo op and autograph requests and an occasional paparazzi intrusion. For now she evades their lurking.

She finds Zuko sitting at the corner most table of the cafe’s patio, already well into an appetizer. She slips into her chair only to find that it is not an appetizer at all, but spicy wings. “You started eating without me?”

He shrugs, “want one?”

She shakes her head.

“But you love spicy food.”

“The baby doesn’t.” She frowns.

“Well I already ordered the rest of our food.” He gestures to the waiter heading for their table with a rather absurd amount of platters. Between her pregnancy and his withdrawal cravings, she and him are a horrid duo in this regard. She thinks to question it only until Zuko begins tearing into his meal.

She rolls her eyes, “don’t be sloppy.” At least she can handle her liberal appetite with poise and grace.

“Don’tell me whadda do.” He grumbles through a mouthful.

She cringes. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

He repeats himself. When he finally swallows the rest of his food he asks, “how have you been holding up.”

Azula sighs deeply, “I can’t breathe properly and I’ve had this annoying itch.”

“An itch.”

“On my belly.”

“Is that...normal?”

“Hama, my physician, says that it is. Something about skin expanding and dryness.” Nevermind the technicalities, the results are very mildly agitating. “And you, Zuzu?”

He frowns, “it’s hard Azula. You can’t even imagine.”

“You look better.”

“But I feel...restless and anxious. And depressed--I’m not sure if this is the drugs though.” He pauses. “I’m tired all the time and the nightmares don’t help.”

“What sort of nightmares?”

“They’re intense. Everyone is reminding me that I’m not going to amount to anything. Dad is always there. He...does things to me in these dreams. Worse than the real stuff.”

Azula nods.

“And Mai is there. So is TyLee, but she’s...weird. She contorts in ways that are crazy even for TyLee. I also had a dream that Aang, you remember him, right?”

“The neighbor kid with the big dog who liked to eat glue? I remember him, yeah. Why?”

“In one of my dreams he had these wild powers and there was this comet and Aang had to stop our father from using it to set the whole world on fire.”

Azula blinks, “Zuzu, there are corners of your mind that disturb me.”

He laughs. Admittedly it is nice to hear him laugh and nicer still to know that she has helped him laugh--a far cry from the distress she used to cause him.

“I suppose that I wouldn’t sleep easily either if I was dreaming about the glue kid getting superpowers.”

He laughs again. “Thanks for coming here, Azula. It’s nice to have someone to keep me company while I go through this.”

“Don’t get sappy on me, Zuzu.” She roll her eyes. She knows that if he does and starts hitting the right cords that she’ll probably start weeping, a humiliating mess of chaotic hormones. “I suppose that I share the sentiment.” She taps her fingers nails against the tabletop, they have grown increasingly long as of late. “You should try to get in good graces with Mai and TyLee again.”

“So should you?” He quirks a brow.

“They’re your bandmates and you still have a chance if you get it together. You already have enough material for Audio of Agni, you just need some publicity. Good publicity.” She pauses. “Of course, you’ll need a band first.”

“Azula, I’m still going through withdrawals.”

“All the more reason to do it. You could use a distraction.”

“You’re a distraction.”

“A bigger distraction. I can’t be here all the time, I have doctor appointments and a career to keep on top of. I’ve only just started getting back on front pages…” for good reasons, she nearly adds, “I need to keep my momentum.”

“So you’re choosing your career over me.”

“I’m choosing my well-being, my baby’s well-being. I don’t really have many other options, a successful solo project is my best chance to provide for this baby.”

“Have you considered adoption?”

It comes like a slap to the face, though she doesn’t think that he means it as such. She bites back her initial scathing retort. “I’m not going through all of this discomfort, disowning, and humiliation just to give the baby away. It’s mine. I want her.”

Zuko lifts his hands, “alright, sorry.” He puts them back down. “I was just really hoping that you’d be here more. I know, I’m surprised too; you’re insensitive and kind of the worst.”

“You’re a funny man, Zuko.” She responds dryly. “I’m not going to abandon you, not when you’re this pathetic. I just think that you should have more support than just me.”

“Do you have any other support?”

“Seicho, hopefully.” She pauses and pushes her final plate aside. “I’d also like to speak with Mai and TyLee again.” She stands up and pushes her chair in.

“I’ll try to talk to them.”

“Make sure to mention that you’re in rehab and that you know you’re an asshole. The asshole bit is especially necessary with Mai.”

“I’ll call you and let you know how it goes?”

“It better go well.” She wishes herself the same luck.

.oOo.

Azula looks much better now, happier, healthier, stronger. There is a radiance about her, something subtle but still present. And it is no wonder; she is back in the press again and much of the headlines predict a groundbreaking and unexpected comeback. The boast of a fallen vocalist whose flame is rising again despite it all. Seicho wonders if the girl is even aware.

“Thank you for meeting with me, Seicho, it is nice to see you again.”

Seicho nods. “Sure, Azula.”

Her gait is rather awkward as she walks alongside her. It prompts Seicho to inquire, “are things going well with the baby?”

“Mostly, yes. Hama has a few concerns.”

“You look a lot better.” Seicho remarks.

“Ugg, if only I felt that way.”

It comes to Seicho then, that the girl is breathing quite heavily, “do you need me to slow down.”

Azula nods, “a little bit yes.”

Seicho chuckles and slings her arm over Azula’s shoulders. She wishes that the girl weren’t so endearing, maybe then she could have drawn her resentment out longer. As things are, Azula is quite precious with her semi-clumsy gait and that genteler twinkle in her eyes. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I would like you to consider not being angry with me anymore.”

Seicho bursts out laughing. “Azula, that is the worst peacemaking opener I have ever heard.”

“How am I supposed to do it?”

“‘I’m sorry that I went off on you for no reason’, would be a good way.”

Azula’s cheeks flush. Seicho thinks that hers might be growing pink as well. She’s adorable, unquestionably so. “I...don’t usually...apologize to people.”

“I can tell.”

Her entire face is red now.

“You’re doing pretty alright.

“Does that mean you are considering my proposal? To not be mad at me?”

Seicho rolls her eyes. “Yes, that’s what it means.” That hopeful little smile seals the deal. “You wanna tell me about your new song ideas? This new concept is...different.”

“Do you like it?”

“I think that it suits you well.” Seicho replies. “You have a pretty voice. I didn’t realize that you had that kind of range. The breathing techniques are really bizarre but they sound neat.”

“Oh, those aren’t techniques. That is me suffering while I try to sing with this baby crushing my lungs.” Her eyes go wide for a flicker. “You’ve been listening to my new music?”

“N-no, well, it’s been on the radio so I couldn’t avoid it!”

She shakes her head, “you listened enough to be able to give me a review.”

“Fine, I’ve been listening to your new material. But I was still mad the whole time, okay? I was listening with resentment.”

Chapter 24

With a new digital album release and a highly anticipated music video in the works, Azula is growing confident again though Audio Of Agni still seems to be far out of her reach. If she makes the right moves and if her pregnancy doesn’t spring up any surprises, she might just be able to make it without the competition. It isn’t ideal and it is terribly frustrating, but at least she doesn’t feel so helpless anymore.

Mostly she feels drained and achy. Her sides stitch from time to time and her entire lower body is growing sore from carrying so much extra weight around. She exhales, she isn’t sure how much more of this she can take. Hama had warned her about the small contractions but they still take her by surprise every time.

They happen now, and when she could really use a break from them. She is just thankful that she is through with recording. From the looks of it, she will have to find a way to shoot the music video mostly sitting or laying. She has passed several ideas onto Zhao, her favorite being a trip to the local theater where she can perch herself on a stool and sing to an empty venue. They can make use of dramatic lighting and add glitter or glow effects electronically. It is simple and will rely on old time Noh theater aesthetics and a stunning costume. She anticipates that the mask will be the most expensive piece. The simpler, one location video will leave plenty of room in the budget for that.

She casts a look at the door. “They’ll be here soon.” Seicho assures her.

“But what if they decide not to come? Mai, TyLee, and I haven’t parted on good terms.” She rubs her hand over her belly.

“You’ve been helping Zuko out so much, you practically saved their band, how mad can they be?”

She isn’t sure that she wants to find out. Not that she has the chance to retract her invitation she hears a knock and climbs to her feet. Her bump lightly knocks against the table as she does so and she curses to herself. “I can get it, you know?”

Azula waves her hand dismissively. “I’m pregnant, not useless.”

.oOo.

Zuko hadn’t realized just how much a few weeks could change a person. Her cheeks are rosier and the bump is bigger still. In spite of it all, her look of prowess and determination has returned. She wears her pride as though it had never slipped from her grasp at all. Frankly, he hadn’t realized that it was truly missing until having seen it returned.

“Oh wow, you’re so big!” TyLee comments,clasps her hands, and holds them to her lips.

Azula’s face, already flushed lightly, grows redder still.

“How far along are you?” TyLee asks.

“Month six.” Azula huffs as she gestures them inside.

“Congratulations?” Mai quirks a brow.

She clears her throat, “thank you.”

He watches her make her way to her seat. She backtracks to fetch her water bottle and semi-clumsily saunters her way back to her seat.

“Still adjusting?” Mai asks.

“Constantly adjusting.” Azula grumbles before taking a drink. She rests her free hand on the bump. “You’re mostly done going through withdrawals, yes, Zuzu?”

He nods. “Sometimes I still really want to use again. Badly. It’s unbearable...it would be if I didn’t…”

“Take my advise and get back into the music industry? Yes, I am aware. You are welcome.” He has to laugh at her audacity, at least these days it is somewhat endearing. “You look a lot better Zuzu. Your eyes don’t have bags that reach to the floor anymore.”

“I don’t know if you’re trying to compliment me or insult me.”

“It’s a compliment, I’m saying that you don’t look like a walking corpse anymore.”

Somehow, he does feel a sense of pride in that. It is progress. Progress that he has made. Progress that he is still making. And she isn’t the only one who has noted these changes. Azula has certainly changed radically in the past few weeks, but he can’t deny that the changes in him have been just as dramatic even if they are less outwardly perceived. He does feel better about himself; he feels more inspired than ever, more creative and, for a change, it isn’t synthetic. It is all him, his mind, his...brilliance. He thinks that he can consider himself smart, at the very least he can consider himself not dumb.

She pulls out a pen and a sheet of paper. “So let’s start talking about music. I read over some of your new lyrics, they are rather solid they can just use some fine tuning and better penmanship, I don’t know what this is supposed to say.” She gestures to the worst of his chicken scratch.

He finds himself beaming regardless. She had given him a real compliment. He has written something worth singing. He could cry...

“Azula, can we just...be friends again first?” TyLee asks.

Her brows furrow, “you want to be friends again.”

TyLee smiles and nods. “To be honest, I don’t really even remember why we were fighting.”

“Because she kept picking on my boyfriend and working us to exhaustion.” Mai shrugs.

Azula’s expression darkens again.

“To be fair, she’s been working herself to exhaustion.” Zuko steps in.

She shrugs again, “I suppose that I don’t know many other people who work this hard six months in.”

“I have a lot that needs to be accomplished.”

“And you only have until battle of the bands to do it?”

“Solo artists can’t join.” She frowns, only to perk up again when adding, “but I’ve already written a setlist and a few ideas just in case.”

Zuko laughs, “of course you did.”

“Who is this?” TyLee points to Seicho.

She looks up from her phone, “I’m Azula’s girlfriend.”

“You are?” TyLee and Azula ask at once.

Seicho looks at Azula, “I thought that you knew that.”

“Azula is clueless.” Mai rolls her eyes. “You can take her on as many dates as you’d like, you can kiss her several times--”

“I have! Mostly in the recording booth between songs.” She declares.

“--And she still won’t put two and two together until you tell her that you’re dating.”

Seicho drapes her arm over Azula’s shoulder and pulls her closer. Her other hand reaches for Azula’s. “I go with her to her appointments too. I figured that she can pretend like I’m the baby’s father since Chan is an ass.”

“It’s Chan’s?” TyLee gasps. “He said that--”

“He lied. It is easier to make me out to be...dangerously promiscuous.”

“Oh Azula, I’m sorry.”

Azula offers only a dismissive wave. “Enough baby and drama talk. We need to start discussing music before the studio closes for the night. They lock up on Mondays for cleaning.”

.oOo.

All in all the night has been a success on a musical level and on a social level. The departure of Mai and TyLee is such a stark contrast to their last one. They part with an offer to team up with and do vocals for From Ashes To Phoenix should they make it to Audio Of Agni as well as an offer to invite her to game night at Iroh’s.

“I don’t know, card games, potato chips, and a super campy horror movie sound great!” Seicho declares. “Do you think that they’ll be down for basement tattoos?”

“Probably.” Azula answers nonchalantly. “Exactly how do you plan to get this past your parents? The last time I checked, they said that they didn’t want you hanging around some tramp.”

“They’re never home.” She shrugs. “And when they are, they don’t really pay much attention to me. They didn’t even know that I was a tattoo artist until I came home with a sleeve.”

“I see.” She replies. “Am I dropping you off at home or are you coming with me to Zhao’s place?”

“Zhao’s place! He makes a bitchin’ yakitori!”

Chapter 25 A Phone Call

If Iroh has an issue with the blearing music, he keeps it to himself. Azula reaches for another chip. “Hmmm...truth or dare, Azula?” She puts down the chip.

“Dare.”

“You’ve been picking dare all night!” She frowns, putting her hands on her hips.

“What can I say, I’m a daring person.”

“You just don’t want to tell the truth.” Seicho nudges her.

“I dare you to pick truth next time someone asks you to.”

“That’s cheating.”

“Mm mm, it’s not.” TyLee shakes her head, “we didn’t establish that rule when we were establishing the other rules.

“Truth or dare, Mai?”

“Dare.”

TyLee puffs out her cheeks. “You guys never pick truth!”

“I dare you to be the first one to get a tattoo tonight.”

“I’ll get one right now.” Mai shrugs. “I’ve had one on my mind for a while now.”

“Kickass! What can I get for you?” Seicho asks. “You can sketch it out while I get set up.” She leans in to kiss Azula on the forehead before getting up.

“Truth or dare, Zuko?”

He glances at TyLee before choosing dare.

“I dare you to…”

Azula leans over and whispers in her ear.

“I dare you to prank call Zhao.”

He punches Zhao’s number into the landline pinpad. “Hello, is this Zhao?”

Azula, Mai, and TyLee lean over his shoulder.

“Yes, this is Sokka. I am interested in getting a record deal.” He clears his throat. “Sorry, I’m nervous, I’ve never asked for a record deal before. But I have this great concept its...uh…” He looks at Azula. “It’s uh...okay, picture this, seven minutes of dog barks with occasional bursts of that noise you hear when you’ve lost TV signal.” He listens. “No, no! This is a totally serious pitch! I’ve even named the track it’s called, ‘Bark At The Static’ and I think that I’d be great touring with that guy who dresses up as a cabbage and Yodels.”

TyLee snickers.

The line goes dead and Azula sits down to finally have her chip. She dips it into the salsa.

“Okay, truth or truth, Azula?”

She rolls her eyes. “Truth number two.”

“Hmmm, do you miss being in Blue Talon.”

“A little, I suppose. I don’t think that I’d like to go back to them though. They lack integrity.” She scoffs. “They’re using my story to sell the band.”

“Your story?” Mai asks.

“I wrote about father before I was kicked out of the band.”

“I write about him too.”

“Yes, Zuzu, I’ve been helping you write those songs.”

“Right.”

“Everything’s all set up. You didn’t sketch, did you?”

Mai fishes through her bag, “I did a while ago.” Azula looks it over. It’s a darkly alluring sketch of a hand holding a punctured heart, weeping roses and thorns. “I want it on my left shoulder blade and a simple throwing star on the right one.”

While Mai gets herself comfortable in Seicho’s makeshift chair, Azula reclains and reads through the newsfeed. Blue Talon is still soaring high as ever, but From Ashes To Phoenix is already garnering heavy attention with their new single announcement. The whole thing was rather sappy story about Zuko’s recent rehab struggles and an apology for acting out on stage. And for herself, Dragon Tongue is finally being praised for her stunning vocals and her soft, divine sound.

Azula is still rather conflicted about how quickly they were to turn from accusing her of pregnancy being obscene and raunchy to them gushing about how a baby on the way is the finishing touch on her new, soothing sound. She supposes that she should be thankful that they are speaking well of her again, regardless of hypocrisy. She wonders if her father is reading these headlines; wonders if her is proud or if he is seething--fuming because she is still rising despite his efforts to snuff her flame.

“What sort of tattoos were the rest of you thinking of getting?”

“I just want a cute little cherry blossom on my pinky!” TyLee answers.

“A broken chain.” Zuko replies. “On my bicep.”

Azula thinks for a moment. “I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out. I have to wait until after the baby is born.”

“Oh, right!” Seicho replies. “Maybe I can help you design one.”

Her phone vibrates in her hand, the number on the screen is unfamiliar. “Hello?”

“Azula?”

“Yes.”

“This is Raava.”

“Raava!?”

She hears the tattoo gun flick off and four heads turn in her direction.

“You have a gift and it will be heard at Audio Of Agni. I’d like to talk with you about a loophole that I found.”

“What sort of loophole?”

“You have done work with From Ashes To Phoenix, yes?”

“I will be recording with them soon.”

“I am going to extend a formal invitation to From Ashes To Phoenix. Given their cooperation, you will perform two of three songs with them and one solo.”

She hadn’t expected to cry that night, but she does. She feels like a fool crying in front of all of them, but she is so relieved. Relieved and hopeful. She hasn’t lost her dream.

It will be an absolute treat to see the shock and horror radiate off of Blue Talon when she makes her appearance. And a larger treat to show her father that her worth is beyond what he can give her.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Azula/Cupholder girl #Zuko #Mai #Maiko #TyLee #Fanfiction #Very Long Text

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