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bibbykins · 4 years

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Tandem Heartbeats and Close Calls

A/N: Hi everyone! I had started this little drabble forever ago and recently finished it in a half-asleep stupor, so I hope you can forgive the quality. It’s not my best work, but I do want to give the time I spent finishing it justice by posting. Also, I know a ton of people want some sort of part two or continuance for Embroidery, and I do too, so until I can muster a proper part-two, please enjoy this drabble... which is also me committing myself to a series of fight/make up drabbles for the soft yan boys. Either way, I hope you all enjoy and have a lovely day/night!

Pairing: Soft Yandere! (Embroidery) Kim Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: toxic relationship, unhealthy relationship, panic attack, sensory overload meltdown/reaction, mean/degrading words, dissociation (kinda), emotional manipulation- this is not a depiction of a good or healthy couple this is an installment in the dark romance that I write for a mature (18+ since the first installment is rated as such) audience and do not wish nor intend for anyone to glorify or strive for this kind of relationship and I do not think anyone in BTS would act like this at all IRL, this is a work of fiction depicting a relationship that could not exist as such or functionally IRL,I could go on for days about this but please know that much. Also if I left out anything else I should add in the warnings I am so sorry and please let me know.

Summary: He just wanted to stand up for you and you just wanted to stand on your own. The thought of you doing anything on your own, without him, shakes him to his very core.

You hated tension. You hated anger and the silence that came from having no words to properly express emotions. Yet, here you were with Taehyung, sitting in his living room as he paced wildly, the both of you still in your work clothes. The disagreement turned full-blown fight stemming from an issue that seemed so silly to you.

You looked at your nails, chipping off the polish as you spoke, “I don’t see why you’re overreacting to misogyny in the workplace like this.” You mumbled, "And mad at me for it." You huffed, only earning a scoff from the pacing man.

“I don’t see why you’re so intent on being pushed around by lazy workers.” He seethed, “Youngmin knows better than to throw his work on you, he’s a production manager!”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at this. You already knew that. You were just about to tell Youngmin that before Taehyung stepped in needlessly. This had definitely not been the first time people dumped work on you purely because you were a capable secretary and someone who looked like a pushover. You knew how to handle these situations, regardless if you ended up doing the work. Taehyung, however, seemed to not have any such faith in you considering the scene he made on the entire accounting floor, embarrassing the life out of you.

“That doesn’t give you the right to make a scene on my behalf.” You hissed back, "I can stand up for myself, if you just gave me the chance."

Taehyung scoffed and it made your eyebrow twitch at his patronizing demeanor, “Well, what else do I do if you’re being pushed around?” You huffed at the comment.

“I’m not being pushed around.” You tried to reason but Taehyung wouldn’t have it.

“Well, I’m the one making sure of that!” You flinched at the volume of his voice, but he didn’t catch it from his pacing while you stood, making him freeze.

“Then why are you the only one pushing me around?!” You huffed, tears in your eyes while Taehyung felt his heart crack. You had never yelled at him before, let alone cried because if him. The same realization seemed to dawn on you as you faltered for a moment, “I-I can handle things myself sometimes, you know.” You spoke incredulously, “I was a person of my own before you, do you not get that?!”

“Oh yeah? Who?” He snapped and you gasped lightly. Is this what he genuinely thought about you? Did your own boyfriend think so low of you and you couldn't see it, “I just remember you being a receptionist that cried on the phone and couldn’t be bothered to so much as make her own lunch, so what were you, if not mine?” He finished his words with a hard glare fixated at you which immediately softened at your glassy eyes with betrayal lying in your pupils

"How could you say that to me?!" You seethed, your eyes void of any affection or love for the man before you, making him freeze, “Do you know how hard I’ve worked to be who I am, and that person is not just your girlfriend, do you want me to prove it?!" Your words felt like a veiled threat, like you would leave him and he felt your words like a spear to the heart.

He could not let that happen, under any circumstances. You could not leave him. He could never allow it. You were his world, his everything, his reason for existing.

Going into panic mode, the man spoke in a hushed tone “Baby, I didn’t mean-

You held your hand up, silencing him as you shook your head, “I need some time to, you know, figure out who I am." You spoke sarcastically but voice quiet as you shuffled to the door.

"W-What do you mean?" He tried to keep the panic in his voice at bay as you slipped on your shoes.

You shrugged, "I don't know." An honest answer did make the situation less frightening for the both of you. What the fuck did you mean? What the fuck were you going to do by yourself?

Wrong answer. In order for you to leave this place, he had to know you loved him and would still continue to do so.

"You know I love you, my Venus, right?" His restraint was hanging by a thread as he watched you slip on your shoes.

"Right." You spoke, barely above a whisper.

Strike two. You didn't say it back. Why would you not say it back? How could you not say it back?! Taehyung watched his nightmare unfold at his own hand. You were slipping away from him, and for the first time, he had no idea what to do.

"I don't want you to go home this late, my love." He took slow steps toward you as your shaky hands tied your shoes, not accustomed to this kind of conflict, "I can just sleep on the couch, and you can..."

You whimpered as you couldn't tie your damn shoes. Your hands were shaking along with the rest of your form as you couldn't focus on the task at hand. You were overstimulated to say the least by everything. From the work day, to the scene, to the fight, to the brokeness of everything around you. Taehyung and you rarely ever fought and each time it was mentally exhausted, but it had never been this bad. You had never felt so sub-human and worthless. Were you just an accessory this whole time?

Had Taehyung loved you or just your company? You felt like a burden to him and just like a shitty excuse of a human all around. What the hell are you if not his? Maybe he was right.

A whine sounded from your closed lips as tears fell to the ground. Your shaky hands had paused on your laces completely, the knots tangled and resembling nothing like the bunny ears you needed. Goodness, you couldn't even tie your damn shoes correctly.

Taehyung's words evidently fell on def years as only distressed sounds and whines came from you. The word was blurrying from your tears and just being overwhelmed all around as your chest squeezed around itself and you opened your mouth to choke on a sob before two hands covered your ears, pushing your face into a familiar chest.

You fought against the embrace before falling on your bottom and defeatedly ceasing your struggles as you focused on the quickened heartbeat your partner had. Why was he so panicked? Surely you were not significant enough to make the ever cool Kim Taehyung's self-confidence shake, right? His heart was pounding furiously, just like yours, though. You thought back to his comment about tandem heart beats on your first night together. Now, the reasoning didn't sound so crazy as the synchronous heartbeats you both shared resounded between your forms. Your sobs evolved into just heavy breaths as your shoulders relaxed a bit, signaling the man holding you to pull back a bit. His hands slid down to cup your cheeks and stroked them softly, a sad smile adorning his beautiful face.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay, hm?" He kissed your forehead, eyes glossy as he pulled back, laying his forehead on yours, "I'm so fucking sorry I was being such a piece of shit." His voice shook, "Fuck, I never meant to hurt you like that, I didn't even mean what I said. I was just fucking projecting because I was nothing until you came into my life-"

"What a lie." You sniffled, "You have always been Kim Taehyung, campus prince, successful businessman, a fucking CEO- board member- whatever." You sighed out, "You've always been something-"

"None of that meant anything to me, barely does now, I never cared about anything until I met you." He breathed shakily, "I love you so much and you brought so much color to my world and I felt like all I had to offer you was protection and I have no damn idea how to be of use to you while you're so effortlessly the focal point of my existence."

Your breath hitched at this, "I-I… What the hell are you talking about?" You huffed out, "This whole night I have felt like such a burden, like I was just a pet for you to look after, like I would be nothing without you- like you said-" Pain flashed across his face. He did say that. He didn’t mean it, but he said it and it affected you.

"Shit, I did not mean that at all, please believe me." He begged, voice cracking, "I am nothing if not yours, I can't take care of myself without you, my life is nothing without you in it." You opened your mouth to protest but he continued after a heavy breath, "I remember you as the receptionist who didn't care who liked her and who didn't, but you were still so shamelessly human and it was, and still is, fucking beautiful to see, you are so dedicated and hard-working. I felt the only way I could even get involved with you was through anonymous lunches because I was too cowardly to just approach you. Why would you like me to begin with? You never once needed me, but I have spent years now, needing you so shamelessly and it makes me feel so small when you don't need my help and I lash out like a child about it and say things I don't fucking mean, at all." He took a deep breath, "I love you more than anything, more than life itself, and I never want to make you feel like anything less than a fucking goddess and I'm so sorry I fucked up so bad." You couldn't find words as he gave you a short kiss on your nose before pulling away, averting his eyes as his cheeks glistened and he focused his hand on your shoes, "If you still need time on your own, I understand, and...and I will respect that." He spoke softly, defeated, as he gently undid the tangle of knots on your left shoe before beginning to tie it correctly, "Is that too tight?" He murmured.

You shook your head, tears heavy on your cheeks, "Stop, Tae-Tae." You pleaded softly but he could hardly register your words until you laid a hand on his, making him look up at you.

You studied his face, tears fresh on his cheeks with stains beginning to dry from previous ones, "Baby?" His voice was so broken.

"You can just take off the shoes, I-I want to lay down." You looked at him as he met your eyes with hopefully ones, "With you. I want to lay down… with you." He nodded before gingerly taking your shoes off, as if to give you time to change your mind, "I love you Tae-Tae, I really fucking do, and it's so scary because I want to be perfect for you like you are for me and I feel like I keep falling short and so to hear you say that earlier it just…" You shrugged, not sure how to vocalize how you felt.

He sighed, "I really didn't mean it, but it doesn't change the fact that I said it." He began to take off the other shoe, "I do think you're perfect and I need to be better with my stupid fucking insecurity about it and stop being such a dick." He slipped the other shoe off before pulling you into a tight embrace, "I love you, so much, and I would give up everything in a heartbeat just to be with you." You held him back, giving him peace of mind after being so vulnerable.

Your body was exhausted as he carried you to his bedroom. You could barely help him as he dressed you for bed and tucked you in carefully before sliding in next to you. He cradled you delicately in his arms, not squeezing until you held him against you tighter, "I forgive you." You whispered against his chest, "I love you, I really do."

"Thank you so much, my Venus." He sighed in relief at your words, "I love you too, so fucking much." He leant down as you kissed his lips softly.

Taehyung lightly admonished himself for a moment. He nearly lost you. He could never let that happen again from his own foolishness. He couldn't live without you. He would never fuck up like that again, and he wouldn't. He vowed to never make a scene like that. He had to do that shit in private, obviously. He slipped up, but he would not be so obnoxious again.

Before he could continue to curse his stupidity, you snuggled against him, "G'night, my love." You murmured and he relaxed instantly, head cleared with only thoughts of how much he loved you.

"Sweet dreams, my Venus." He kissed the crown of your head and you hummed in delight at the gesture before he joined you in closing his eyes and drifting away into a peaceful sleep after one of the scariest nights of his life.

Thankfully, Taehyung never made the same mistake twice. Especially a mistake so critical. Who knows what he would’ve had to do if you were dead set on leaving him? Again, thankfully, neither you, nor Taehyung, would not find out. Not that Taehyung planned for you to ever find out just how far he was willing to go to keep you with him, to keep your requited love, to keep both of your hearts beating, together.

Masterlist

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#bts #bts fanfic #bts series #bts drabble #kim taehyung #bts v #soft yandere bts #yandere bts #bts angst #bts fluff #yandere bts drabble

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taeescript · 3 years

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VI. Script of the Angel

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 >> This is the story of three very different people. A successful novelist, a blossoming artist and a dedicated cop. They seem to have nothing in common. Yet, they are continually drawn to each other. It is as if their fates have been intertwined. Written. That they must meet.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> ft. jungkook and jimin primarily.

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 >> policeman!jimin, author!jungkook, painter!reader, serialkiller!XXX; a classic game of cat and mouse

𝔴/𝔠 >> 2.3k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> mature themes depicted. due to the explicit nature of the topic (serial killers, murders, violence, sexual content, infidelity etc.) this is rated 18+. to spare storytelling: please consider yourself warned.

𝔞/𝔫 >> there is a lot going on tumblr these days, and a lot of things just going on in life right now. i still hope to continue to share chapters with you although they may all be a little shorter than usual now. nontheless, i hope you enjoy (:

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Wax – a diverse class of organic compounds which are hydrophobic, malleable solids at ambient temperatures. Typically containing melting points above at 40 C, they are obtained from multiple resources such as animals or plants. Wax can also be extracted chemically in petroleum. There are many uses for wax such as the manufacture of candles, final coatings on wood products and thickening agents amongst others. One of the most popular artistic use of waxes is the creation of statues from Madame Tussauds.

“Another what?” Jimin asks when he is dragged out of the interrogation room again by Namjoon.

“Dispatch just gave me a call. They want the homicide team on site because…well, you know the reason each and every time we’re called into site,” Namjoon runs his hand through his hair. The news had come as a shock to him as well. “You’ll have to release him, Jimin.”

Jimin shakes his head. “No, Namjoon. I was in the middle of something with him.”

“Jimin, be reasonable here! There’s another murder that’s been committed while you were here questioning him. It’s quite obvious that he couldn’t have killed this person.”

“I’m so close to cracking him!” Jimin yells in frustration. “Beside, how do you know he hadn’t gone and done this before he came in?”

Namjoon has to bite back his words.

“Fuck!” Jimin kicks the door. He doesn’t care that Jungkook could hear how angry he is on the other side. There really isn’t anything to hide between the two of them anyways.

After a minute, Jimin has calmed down. “I’ll meet you on site,” he says to Namjoon.

Namjoon doesn’t leave.

“Look, I promise, alright? I’m just going to send Jungkook off properly and then I’ll drive straight to the site. Text me the address,” Jimin says.

He only has one choice so Namjoon nods and leaves.

Once Jimin is left alone in the room, he punches the air blindly.

Jungkook sits calmly inside the room. It seems that luck is on his side. Perhaps whatever this case was would have Jimin off his back. It would be a little hard to continue any of his extracurricular activities if Jimin continuously monitors all his actions.

“You’re free to go, Mr. Jeon,” Jimin opens the door and speaks without looking at Jungkook.

Jungkook raises his hand and the handcuffs that link him to the table clang as metal hits metal.

Jimin walks up to him and opens the lock. Jungkook rubs his wrists and picks up his jacket on the way out.

“I really do hope you catch the killer, Detective Park,” Jungkook gives a light pat on Jimin’s shoulder.

...

Jimin recognizes her when he brushes under the caution tape onto where the rest of his team stands in a circle. It is not so much that he recognizes her facial features, but it is the outfit she is wearing. The same black and blue leggings.

“Fuck me,” Namjoon says the instance Jimin slides up besides him, “Fucking bat shitting balls.”

Yoongi has one hand placed over his mouth and his index finger pressing against his nostrils. There is a strange smell emitting off the corpse.

“A missing body part, again?” Jimin says. He swallows the bile that threatens to rise. The forensics team does not need to tell him what part is missing this time. It is glaringly obvious to the observer.

Replacing where it usually sits on the body is the head of another species – a buck’s crown with antlers and all. The girl is still standing although it is clear that she is deceased. Her body had been manipulated such that it looked like she was mid-sprint before being shocked by her attacker. She was a live manifestation of a deer caught in headlights.

“Let’s see if we can move her; bring her back to the lab for analysis,” Namjoon barks an order at the forensics team. They nod and move towards the body. Right as they put their hands on her, a loud voice yells,

“Don’t!”

It is too late, however. The team has already lifted her an inch off the floor. At his shout, they drop her immediately and that is when she crumbles, literally, at their feet. Jimin stands as her foot rolls in front of him. He stares at the shoe and foot that has been broken off at the ankle.

“Fuck!” Namjoon exclaims in alarm, jumping back.

Taehyung stands with his arms at his side, defeated. “You shouldn’t have tried to move her,” he mutters.

Namjoon’s face conveys both astonishment and confusion as stalks away to find somebody who could clean the body parts and move them back to the lab.

Jimin carefully tiptoes around the fragments of her body and walks up to Taehyung. “What the hell just happened?” he demands.

Besides being the team’s blood spatter analyst, he was an expert on a multitude of other subjects. “You saw how her body was positioned, didn’t you? Usually, victims are sprawled on the ground because gravity pushes on them, and their muscles have collapsed. She was standing. Something is keeping her muscles rigid post mortem,” Taehyung explains.

“Kim!” someone calls amidst the rubble. The victim’s body had been broken at most of the joints and a gathered team was currently packing each section in a bag.

Both Taehyung and Jimin walk up to the jacketed individual who had called out. She is bent over what looks like the forearm. A brown, semi-clear substance is pooling around the limb.

“This started seeping out all of a sudden. It’s happening to a couple of the broken parts, although most of the liquid is contained in the bags that we have stored them in,” she tells the two of them.

Taehyung bends down to examine the liquid. He is wearing gloves and when he extracts his fingers from the surface of the substance, it is slightly sticky between his index finger and thumb. He wipes his hand on a piece of tissue before slipping that into the bag as well. “Take that and all the parts back to the lab. If you can get a vial of the liquid to analyze, that would be helpful as well,” Taehyung told the assistant. She nods.

As the scene is being cleared, Taehyung walks back to the patrol car with Jimin. “What are you thinking about?” Jimin inquires, seeing that the gears inside Taehyung’s head are turning.

“Tell me, what’s the temperature right now?” Taehyung asks.

Jimin checks his phone and reports, “20 C, but with sunshine it should feel like 24 C.”

Taehyung takes note. “Slightly above room temperature,” he mumbles.

“What was that?”

“Slightly above room temperature,” Taehyung repeats louder. He stops walking and faces Jimin. “I’ve got a theory on what that is, but I can’t be sure yet. I’m going back to the lab and once results are out, I will call you immediately.”

Jimin nods. “I wanted to take a look around the site anyways. I’ll see you back at the station.”

Taehyung waves before leaving.

By the time Jimin returns to the crime scene, the majority of broken body parts have been cleaned. There is only a lone photographer who is packing up his camera into his bag. He greets Jimin with a slight bow on his way to leave the site.

“Any witnesses?”

Namjoon returns by his side. He shakes his head, answering Jimin’s question himself. “This is not a common runner’s route. It’s a short cut from the left side of the park to the right so not a lot of pedestrians know about it.” He sees how Jimin is still standing there with an unreadable expression on his face. “Are you okay?” he asks Jimin directly.

Jimin taps the bridge of his nose. “I know that girl,” he says softly, “Not personally. But I bumped into her before. It was at the park near our station. I also saw – ” His sentence is suddenly cut off.

“Saw what?” Namjoon asks further.

Jimin cannot continue his sentence. He knows what Namjoon will say already. Besides, if he really wanted concrete evidence against Jungkook, he must absolutely make sure that Jungkook was there at the park when the running girl was there. “Saw a red bird. I think it’s called a cardinal,” Jimin lousily finishes his sentence.

Namjoon gives him a strange look. “I’ve never pegged you as a bird watcher,” he comments.

Jimin shrugs. “I’m heading back to the station. Taehyung also says he has something on the possible C.O.D.,” he reports to Namjoon.

“You’re leaving me again to handle the crowd? That happened last time with Sara Michel’s case,” he groans.

Jimin shrugs again as if to say, “Sorry, what can I do?” He gives a reassuring squeeze on Namjoon’s shoulder before leaving.

This time, he is going to find unshakable evidence.

...

“Welcome back,” you smile at him when he enters the door. You are sitting at the table, pencil and sketchpad in front of you.

Jungkook smiles ever so slightly back before bending down to untie his shoes. They needed to be placed in their usual spot; if they weren’t, he would feel the irritation spread throughout his body until he went back to fix it. It is better that everything is perfect the way it is the first time.

After he has made sure that his laces were also tucked into the shoe as was his preference, he walks over to you. He can’t help but muse at how exquisite you look whenever the afternoon’s sunshine would brush through your hair. You are like a marble stature carved by the Greeks and placed on display in the middle of a garden. He moves his eyes over you like a curator would when assessing a piece.

You have your back turned towards him and do not hear when he walks behind.

“What are you drawing?”

Immediately, you stand and hold your sketchpad to your chest. It shields your work from his curious eyes.

“Something!” you blurt, your face flushing.

He cannot read why you are acting so strangely so he does what he always does around you: smile.

You clear your throat and tuck your disheveled hair behind your ear. “A package came for you. I left it in your room!” you say the tumbling words. It is your lame attempt in shifting his attention away from you to something else.

Thankfully, it works as he nods. He sends you a last playful smirk before making his way towards his makeshift bedroom. It is tiny, as you had originally used it as your storage room for your art utensils, but they had recently moved a mattress into the room for him and it helped that he did not have a lot of personal items with him anyways. The said package sits just beside the doorframe to his closed room, and he wonders again of whether or not you are scared of him. You never seemed to want to enter his room and insisted on speaking to him from outside in the hallway.

The package is not heavy and rather small in his hands. He is able to pick it up with one and balances it on his left palm as he opens the door. The blue walls welcome him into his small, personal haven. Carefully, he tiptoes his way between the old canvases and dried paint palettes. He passes by the yellow smudge on the wall and then collapses on the mattress in the back of the room. His suitcase squeaks as the wheels press against the body of the case while being wedged in the small space.

Once he is comfortably sitting cross-legged on the bed, he carefully finds a cutter and slices through the masking tape that conceals the contents of the cardboard box. The movement is as smooth and practiced as slicing through butter to him – a flick of the wrist. Once the tape no longer holds, he pries the flaps open. There is another small box tied with a red ribbon. A single white card is attached to the side. This is what he first takes out.

The envelope is embossed with a strange swirling design. He breaks the seal with another slice of the cutter, sliding out the cardstock letter. It had been written in elegant matching swirling cursive with a golden fountain pen.

“I’ve been waiting for you. Welcome to my town. A small home-warming gift.”

It has not been signed and Jungkook wonders if the writer was the one who wrote the words; each letter had been carved so delicately onto the material. He tilts his head as he thinks of who may have sent this to him. He has not told anybody that he is planning to stay in LA for the time being. He had never been one to open his circle of acquaintances and thereby it had remained small. Digging through his mind, he comes up empty-handed on any of the known possibilities.

Well, there is one person who definitely would not be the sender.

The bow becomes undone by a light tug from his fingers. It falls delicately onto his lap like a ribbon of red liquid. At that, the walls of the box fall easily to reveal its treasure, akin to the opening of an oyster.

His usual stoic expression becomes all the more frozen on his face when he sees what the gift is. Somebody has been watching him. Somebody knows about him. Somebody is out there.

For a single eyeball, pupil and iris augmented in aquamarine and azure hues, stares right back at him. The crystalline gift plucked so delicately from the girl who he had been planned as his next angel.

...

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onebizarrekai · 3 years

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I think that lucia di lammermoor is one of my new favorite operas not just because of the mad scene but because the opera makes no sense whatsoever

there are literally so many plot holes in the libretto. there are so many unexplained facets of the narrative, unresolved arcs, dialogues that mandate copious creative liberties, things that only happen off-stage, and some unsolvable problems that can only be fixed by cutting things or directing things a certain way. there’s so much nonsense it’s actually hilarious. if you read the source story of the bride of lammermoor the opera diverts quite a bit, but the bride of lammermoor is actually even worse, so let’s put that to the side.

let’s just start from the beginning of the opera, paraphrasing as much as possible. lucia’s evil brother, enrico, is the first lead to greet the stage, minutes after his goony normano. normano tells enrico the tale of how enrico’s archenemy, edgardo, saved the life of lucia, and he reluctantly admits that they are now in love with each other and are secretly meeting up all the time. enrico flips his shit and sings about how he’s going to kill edgardo or whatever. bide the bent (aka raimondo, but schirmir really said bide the bent, whatever the hell that means) exists and does priest stuff because he’s a priest. by the way, there’s this whole thing about how the ashton family (aka lucia and enrico) are protestant and edgardo is catholic and that’s why they hate each other and that’s why there’s a priest.

anyway they all leave, and then lucia and alice enter. lucia is, naturally, waiting for her illegal boyfriend: edgardo. she is very scared because enrico is a piece of shit and wants to kill her boyfriend. alice is like “yo man this is a bad idea” and lucia is like “where’s edgardo” but lucia is also perturbed by something else. she has a ghost story to tell about this nondescript fountain and tells alice about the girl who was killed by her lover at this fountain, and then suddenly goes like “by the way the ghost of the dead woman appeared to me” and like wow ok lucia. after singing about all of the water turning to blood in her hallucination, she proceeds to completely change moods and sing about how much she loves edgardo because she is crazy. after all of this, edgardo finally arrives and tells lucia about how he actually has to go to france to do ambassador stuff and disappear for an indefinite period of time. he says that they should finally tell enrico about their relationship. lucia completely shuts him down, and then edgardo cries about how enrico has killed his family and how she’s the only light of his life. they end up deciding to keep their relationship a secret anyway and then vow to marry each other.

act 2, enrico has ordered normano to forge a break-up letter from edgardo to send it to lucia. normano shows up to give it to enrico, enrico summons lucia into wherever he is to tell her that he needs to marry her off to some other guy in order to save their family. lucia is like “but I’m marrying someone else” and enrico is like “oh yeah? read this” and gives her the letter, and lucia naturally breaks down because it’s a big lie about how edgardo has found someone else in france. she cries about it until this big fanfare plays to welcome her new husband, arturo. at this point lucia is singing about nothing except how much death would benefit her right now. enrico leaves after being an asshole for a few more minutes, and then in comes bide the bent to lecture lucia about the invalidity of her previous marital vows. she leaves to change into a wedding gown.

enter arturo, this random loser that enrico wants lucia to marry. his lines are so cliché that he’s probably reading them off a sheet of paper (which is exactly how we staged the production I am currently doing). somehow arturo knows about lucia’s affair with edgardo because those two were actually horrible at being secretive, but also he doesn’t care because he gets to marry a hottie. enrico tells arturo about how lucia’s mother died and that’s why she’s crying about the wedding. lo and behold, lucia enters and she is crying. they hold the wedding right then and there under the Authority™ of bide the bent, enrico forces lucia to sign the wedding documents, and then everyone is like “wait who’s at the door?” and then EDGARDO BREAKS IN and he’s like “EDGAAAAAARDO” and they sing a whole sextet that borders a confusion ensemble except it’s a bel canto tragedy.

edgardo is like “yeah man! it’s my right to be here since I’m engaged to lucia!” and enrico is like “PSH” and bide the bent comes up like “sorry she just signed this Other Marriage Contract” and shows it to edgardo and edgardo is like WHAT and he comes up to lucia like BRUH YOU DONE THIS?? and lucia doesn’t even know what’s happening at this point, she’s just like “yes?? but” and then edgardo takes off his ring and hers and then throws a temper tantrum before he gets kicked out.

behold the wolf’s craig duet, the most stupid and pointless thing in this opera considering what happens later. enrico barges into edgardo’s house and they sing about how they’re going to kill each other and duel at the graveyard. that’s it. there’s probably sexual tension.

after that, there’s a wedding party, except with a Horrifying Twist. lucia goes upstairs with arturo and fucking kills him. having lost her mind, she comes out covered in blood and sings for like twenty minutes in a very impressive manor. she collapses on the floor at the very end.

there’s a random recit right afterwards where enrico, bide the bent and normano briefly talk about lucia losing her mind. while enrico is crying about lucia, bide the bent literally blames normano of all people, who did exactly nothing, for every bad thing that happened to lucia.

the final scene begins at the graveyard. now, I know what you’re thinking. edgardo and enrico promised to duel each other here, right? right! so where the hell is enrico? I dunno, not here. edgardo is here, and he’s crying and stuff about his dead father. he’s very sad and probably wants to perish. a chorus shows up mourning something. edgardo asks about it and no one wants to tell him. bide the bent appears in all his priestliness and tells edgardo that lucia is now in heaven. how did she die? beats me. she died of insanity or something. edgardo has lost the final thing in his life that matters to him, so he decides to “go see her” and stabs himself.

the opera ends.

welcome to lucia di lammermoor. now, some of these plot holes are resolvable through directing. for example, lucia’s insanity is inexplicable in the libretto. nobody is just sad about their boyfriend and commits murder–granted, her first aria had her singing about a ghost and a fountain of blood. why’s she like this, though? she’s probably not ok. so like, some people explain this by making enrico way way worse than just a big liar. in the production that I’m doing, enrico is being depicted as sexually abusive towards lucia, and like, yeah that helps do some explaining. but you know what it doesn’t help? the parts of the opera that normally get cut, like the stupidass wolf’s craig duet that exists for no reason and usually gets cut because it makes no sense. also, the scene right after the mad scene where bide the bent comically blames normano for everything even though it is clearly enrico’s fault and enrico is randomly mourning lucia even though he was horrible to her for the whole opera. unfortunately, when you have companies like the met, which do full operas with no cuts, you get the whole, nonsensical story in its full glory, not to mention the met tends to shy away from taking creative liberties with the directing.

so like, why do I say this opera is a new favorite? well, aside from it being fun to sing, since I’m doing it for the first time, it’s absolutely hilarious to consider who the real mastermind here is, since for some reason, the librettist seems to think that it’s normano. you have to make up so much subtext in this story in order to even make it begin to make sense, so how far can you take it? how much nonsense can you create?

easy mode is assuming the mastermind is enrico. he’s a horrible person. obviously bide the bent accuses normano because he’s trying to divert the blame from enrico, who may or may not kill him if he says the truth. however, enrico does not go to the graveyard to kill edgardo and tie off loose ends (which I personally think he should have). enrico just kind of disappears, honestly, in spite of being the main bad guy.

bide the bent is another viable option. he blames normano to divert attention from himself. he plays the role of the peacemaker between edgardo and enrico during the sextet, but it’s all a sham. the reason bide the bent appears in the final graveyard scene is because he’s the true villain here. he simply took advantage of everyone around him in order to make sure everything went according to plan. enrico’s bs towards lucia, lucia’s insanity, edgardo’s depression, normano loyalty, the whole deal. he wishes to rise in power… perhaps the reason enrico does not show up in the final scene is because bide the bent has already disposed of him.

what if it was edgardo? what if he and lucia devised a plan to create an opening that would allow them to run away? what if arturo was in on it? lucia pretends to murder arturo, pretends to go insane, and the plan was to finally flee with edgardo… but then they were INTERCEPTED. their plan was ruined. lucia was disposed of by the enemy off-stage and it was too late. they claim she died of insanity, but she was killed by normano under enrico’s orders, or whoever else is the designated evil one here.

in the met, for some reason, they decide to have lucia’s ghost come in during the final scene and silently “coerce” edgardo into ending his life, which sounds cool, but it was ridiculous. I just remember the blood bag being in the wrong place so he had to stab himself in the kidney and lucia actually pushed the prop knife in like she wasn’t literally a ghost. there was also a ghost during lucia’s first aria that totally upstaged her. this opens up many stupid doors for directing such as arturo’s ghost returning as well if need be. anyone’s ghost could be there. ghosts canonically exist at the met. arturo could be fortnite dancing during the mad scene.

behold, a terrible take. edgardo is having a secret affair after all, but he’s having an affair with enrico. enrico is enraged when he discovers edgardo’s relationship with his sister because he thought that THEY had a thing. he vengefully tries to break them up by marrying lucia off to arturo. enrico and edgardo sing the wolf’s craig duet as a not-tragic breakup song.

honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in this goddamn cast was sleeping with each other. the possibilities are endless

during the staging period of the show, we all came up with so many stupid and hilarious ideas that we could stage an entire comedy version of this opera. maybe one day it could happen. maybe…

anyway it’s like midnight and I’m doing my cast’s performance of this opera in two days, and I just drove home a while ago from performance 1 today talking with my family about all of these stupid possibilities, so it’s all on my mind. at least the mad scene is fun to sing

#random stuff #me? going on a comical tangent about opera? more likely than you think #there's a lot of content warnings for stuff here but that's to be expected of opera #honestly I'll lose my mind for real if I have to do this show at face value #enrico isn't evil enough in just the libretto alone #see operas usually have pretty simple stories #and plot holes #but LUCIA #lucia is something else

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karliesbuzzcut · 4 years

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Kaylor´s Throwback Thursday: October 18th, 2018

Hello and welcome to the our second edition of KTBT. Because many of you asked for it, today we are putting on our fanciest gowns and travelling back to Karlie Kloss’ wedding.

To understand everything that’s been going on, we need a bit of historical context. Taylor Swift has just arrived in Perth, Australia, for her Reputation Tour and therefore, didn’t attend the wedding. The wedding per se seems to have been kept secret, although there were rumours about something going on.

Also happening around this time: Jamal Khashoggi, a Saudi journalist, was assassinated at the Saudi consulate in Istambul. What does something so horrible have to do with Karlie Kloss’ wedding? I’m not sure but TTB brought it up.

TTB’s confidence in herself is almost admirable. Not only to @ Karlie, Taylor, Tree, Penni and Karlie’s sister on her thoughts but also to use “stunt” as an adjective. Stunty... nice. By the way, that super official document she links also states that Josh was born on the 00 of June. Just thought you’d like to know that.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m sorry, I’m just too excited. Let me set the scene for you. It’s October 18th, 2018. Apparently Karlie had been “stunting” hard for a few days now... when the bomb drops. TTB receives a buttload of messages and do you want to know something? The messages aren’t even that exciting. I think the most interesting thing of going through those messages was noticing how Kaylors have clung to the same mantras they use today. You know what I mean, the “Karlie looks miserable!” “I have a second cousin who had a wedding and her wedding didn’t look like Karlie’s wedding so...” “You can tell it’s just a business deal from the way Karlie smiles”.

Anyway, what do you think happened the very next day? Spade stopped by, of course. TTB Spade can smell weakness on Kaylors and knows that nothing fixes the problem quite as well as some vague sentence. This time it was an answer to the question “When do you think we will receive the first Taylor Swift and Karlie Kloss friendship candid?” Which they simply answered with a direct quote from Call It What You Want “I recall late November, holdin’ my breath / Slowly I said ‘You don’t need to save me / But would you run away with me?’” Because why come up with your own shit, amiright. Either way, the legend says that if you’re very quiet at the end of every November, you can hear a disappointed Kaylor cry.

Soon after, TTB followed up. You can read the message yourself, I will post it here, but I can also summarise it for you in the form of a Haiku.

It did not happen.

My sources told me it’s false.

Hollywood PR.

If you pay attention, you can notice TTB’s very own stages of grief. First, she “threatened” Karlie’s parents (“All eyes on you Kurt and Tracy”). Then there’s denial (to be fair, there’s alway denial). And then, she resorted to guilting her subjects.

I mean, I just love that she keeps tagging Kimby here. “Kimby, your sister’s marriage is forcing people back into the closet. You better do something, Kimby... NOW KIMBY👏!”

And then TTB made a little test? I’m adding this post here, not because of it’s quality but because I’m a little bit confused by it. She listed a bunch of facts like the dress’ designer, the bridesmaids’ dresses, the cake’s brand and Jewish symbolisms. And I guess all of that is supposed to lead us somehow to the wedding not being real but to me it reads as “I watched a wedding once on TV, what is this?”

But let’s take a break from TTB and move on to thabrokegirl. She was definitely working through some feelings. I tried taking a picture of her entire manifesto but it didn’t fit my screen. I did select the best parts though.

The first one was mostly for my own amusement, not gonna lie. TBG goes on about how weird it is that it took 6 years for Karlie and Josh to get married. And here I am, older than Karlie, with a boyfriend I’ve been dating for almost 9 years... finding out today of all days, that I have problems... like commitment issues, this was never in the stars for us because it would’ve happened already. 😳

I don’t know how many Gilmore Girls’ fans I have in the audience tonight. But there’s an episode in season 7 where Lorelai is struggling to write a very important letter. She’s advised to write whatever comes into her head, to which she responds that it’s a bad idea and I cite:

Because my brain is a wild jungle full of scary gibberish. "I'm writing a letter. I can't write a letter. "Why can't I write a letter? I'm wearing a green dress. "I wish I was wearing my blue dress. "My blue dress is at the cleaners. "'The Germans wore gray. You wore blue. ''Casablanca'. "'Casablanca' is such a good movie. "'Casablanca.' The white house. Bush. "Why don't I drive a hybrid car? I should drive a hybrid car. "I should really take my bicycle to work. "Bicycle. Unicycle. Unitard. Hockey puck. Rattlesnake. Monkey, monkey, underpants."

And it is that stream of consciousness that thabrokegirl perfectly depicted on her piece.

Meanwhile, FemmeTay is surprisingly very chill about this.

Finally, there’s TallCurlyGirl, who made me regret the fact that I wasn’t around during her prime. After all, she wasn’t a shipper - she was just a regular tall curly girl burdened with the superpower of reading Taylor’s and Karlie’s minds and who -therefore- had the responsability of sharing her findings with the whole world... up until she got bored Karlie and Taylor broke up.

Please enjoy a vintage selection of ‘I Have Sources™’ which -as most things Kaylor- have aged hilariously bad:

My favourite part is PR people shitting their pants and calling Tree for help 🌝...

What was your favourite part?

*5 second silence while I look at your with dead eyes*

I like that part too!

#kaylor #karlie kloss #ttb #ktbt

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keelywolfe · 4 years

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FIC: Not What It’s Cracked Up To Be ch.4 (baon)

Summary: Edge and Stretch are finally getting back on an even keel. Edge’s broken leg is healing well, Spring is finally here and the flowers are close to blooming.

Be a shame if anything disturbed their domestic bliss.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Fluff, Chickens, Depression

Notes: As a heads up, this chapter includes a depiction of depression.

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

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Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Despite the night of broken sleep, Edge was up at his usual hour the next day, waking before his alarm could blare. He turned it off and slipped out of bed as quietly as he could, tucking the comfortably warm blankets around his still-sleeping husband.

He paused for a moment, looking at Stretch’s unguarded face. Last night they’d stayed in the shower together until their generous hot water tank gave up and the spray turned cold. By the time they were dry and in new pajamas, Edge was trembling with the effort of keeping them both on their feet, guiding Stretch to their bed and tucking him beneath the covers before joining him. They’d lain together in silence for some time, holding each other close before falling into what was for Edge a restless sleep.

In the dawn light creeping around the sides of the curtains, Stretch looked drained even in sleep. Stains of deep orange were shadowed beneath his closed sockets and his face was drawn tight against whatever dreams came. Much as it pained him, Edge left him to rest, heading to their closet to dress hastily and when he left, he carefully closed the bedroom door behind him.

Travel down the stairs was cautious but despite Edge’s sockets feeling gritty with exhaustion, his leg felt fine. He may as well be grateful for small favors, he supposed. The sun was cresting the horizon and he had things to do today.

In the backyard, the soft shoes he was currently forced to wear left the outline footprints in the damp grass as he walked over to the shed. Inside, the walls were lined with gardening tools. Bags of potting soil were stacked in a corner alongside mulch and fertilizer, everything carefully organized and in its place. On a wide shelf in one of the back corners he found what he was looking for; a long roll of landscape edging that he’d planned to use for a new garden bed. For now, it was getting called in for another use and he carried it out along with a hand trowel over to the fenced in area around the chicken run.

He could already hear Noodle and Dumpling caterwauling inside the coop. The sound of the patio door opening in the morning usually meant food and they were complaining loudly about their little door being closed. He left them for now, unwilling to be distracted from his task.

The chicken wire surrounding the run was already secured to the ground and now he simply needed to make sure that the soil itself couldn’t be dug out to make an entrance. This would be a temporary solution, as would locking the coop completely at night, but he wasn’t about to risk their remaining flock until the fox situation was taken care of.

It would have been faster with a regular shovel, another frustration cause by his injury, but the hand trowel worked well enough in the muddy dirt. He dug a trench along the fence-line, working until it was deep enough, then he set the edging into it. Five inches of hard plastic would be a decent deterrent against digging until he could come up with something better. He took special care in the place where a hole already existed, filling the hole up with a bitter satisfaction that made his soul feel as if it were smoldering. By the time it was properly buried and fastening to the chicken wire, he was muddy and weary, taking in the scene with grim satisfaction.

When he climbed to his feet again, his leg threatened to buckle under his weight and Edge staggered, cursing silently. He’d stupidly left his cane in the house along with his cell phone and the very thought of having to shout for help until either the neighbors investigated or Stretch woke up was humiliating enough for him to be very careful as he caught his balance. No matter, he was almost finished. He opened the fence door and went to the coop, finally unlocking the entrances, both big and small.

The chickens were all but pressed against their little door, Noodle and Dumpling tumbling out, scrambling over each other in their efforts to be first outside. They chuffed and strutted flirtatiously around his feet for a moment, but affection couldn’t compete with hunger. They made a beeline to the trough, inspecting it hopefully, unhappy clucking rising as they found it empty.

Normally, Edge would leave it be and let Stretch be the one to feed them, but today he only scooped out the pellets, leaving them to their breakfast. He did crouch for a moment and gave them each a gentle pat.

“I’m sorry,” Edge murmured. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect her. I’ll do better from now on.” Foolish, really. They couldn’t understand him and if they were grieving the loss of their friend, it didn’t show in the way they gobbled down their food. Yet, saying it aloud gave the promise more weight, a commitment to anyone who might be listening. Edge might not believe in the Angel, but childish superstition was difficult to shed.

He’d redesign the coop and the run today, Edge decided. His kitchen could wait.

Back in the house, the first thing he did was retrieve his cane, leaning on it heavily as he went back upstairs to wash up. He didn’t linger in the shower this time, hastily sluiced away the mud and grit. His clothes went down the laundry chute and once his leg splint was back in place, he limped to the bedroom in only a towel.

He opened the bedroom door as quietly as he could, peering inside. More light was coming in around the curtains, casting the room in shadows that fell across the shapeless lump on their bed. He couldn’t tell if Stretch moved at all while he was gone.

Softly, he called, “Love?”

No response, but the sudden tension visible in the blankets indicated that he was awake. On a good morning, Stretch was likely to roll over and make a languid attempt to entice him back into the bed. His success rate was usually determined on whether or not Edge needed to get ready for work. At the very least, he would mumble out a good morning and try to stay awake long enough for a quick kiss before Edge headed out the door.

That he didn’t move nor said a word spoke volumes of its own. This was not a good morning.

Edge sighed inwardly and went to the closet to dress again before heading back downstairs. The coffee pot he turned on and let brew, then he turned on the kettle to heat. Tea wasn’t as common a beverage in their house as coffee was, but Stretch drank it often enough that the steps to making it were automatic.

Bring the water to the optimal temperate of 180 degrees. Add the tea leaves to the pot and pour the water in, letting the leaves steep for three minutes. Pour the perfectly brewed tea into a mug and add enough honey to make his own tongue curl in disgust, thus rendering all the previous steps at producing a flavorful tea useless.

The entire effort might be a pointless one anyway, but if all he could offer was a perfect cup of ruined tea, then Edge would do that much. He only wished he could do more.

He carried the mug upstairs, tapping lightly on the bedroom door this time before he opened it.

“I made you tea,” Edge kept his voice low, mindful that Stretch sometimes got headaches on his bad days. He set the mug on the side table. “You can drink it if you want or you can leave it here and I’ll come back for it later.” There was no response, not a word or so much as a creaking bed spring. Edge hesitated, then added, “You don’t need to drink it if you don’t want to. Or if you want something else, I can get it. It’s no trouble.”

Nothing. There was enough light creeping around the curtains for him to see that Stretch was buried into the covers, only the top of his skull visible. Edge closed his sockets briefly and took a long, slow breath. Completely non-verbal was a very bad sign, one that hadn’t happened in a long time, far before Stretch started with his therapy.

But today was also a very bad day, he’d known it would be, and Edge refused to allow even the beginnings of fear to take hold. Stretch needed time to fight his way out of the black cloud of his depression and Edge was going to make sure he got it.

He still faltered, torn between asking questions that might make Stretch feel worse as he couldn’t answer them right now or taking liberties that he wasn’t sure would be welcome. What Stretch wanted or needed in these times could vary by the minute.

At last, he settled on, “I’m going back downstairs for now. I’ll come back in an hour to check on you.”

Before he could turn away, a skeletal hand slipped out from beneath the blankets and caught his sleeve. It wasn’t words but he understood perfectly.

Don’t leave yet.

Edge sat on the side of the bed and set a hand gingerly on Stretch’s back, rubbing his rib cage and spine gently through the layers of blankets.

“It’s all right,” he said softly. He kept his touch light, soothing. “You don’t need to say anything.” If Stretch didn’t feel up to speaking, that was fine. “Take today, take two days. Take all the time you need. If you need anything else, I’m here.”

The hand gripping his sleeve slowly let go and disappeared back beneath the blanket. Edge nodded, “All right, I understand. I’ll leave you be for now.”

He took a moment to make sure Stretch’s phone was on the bedside table and plugged in, took a small bottle of painkillers from the table drawer and set them on the nightstand along with a glass of water he retrieved from the bathroom. Small things that Stretch might want and couldn’t ask for right now.

It might be overstepping, but he leaned in to brush a featherlight kiss on the top of Stretch’s skull, relieved when he didn’t flinch away. Then he left before he gave in to the clamoring urge to pull Stretch into his arms, to hold him tightly as if his embrace could chase his demons away. He knew better, knew that Stretch did not respond well to having his autonomy taken away even if his coping mechanisms didn’t always strictly help.

That didn’t keep the urge from rising, demanding that he do something, and so Edge left before he gave in to it, making his slow way back downstairs.

It was time to start planning, Edge always handled this better when he had a strategy. If Stretch wasn’t improved tomorrow, he would contact Asgore and request a delay in his return to the Embassy. He could keep working from home for now. That might well add to Stretch’s guilt, but he wasn’t about to leave his husband alone here in this house when he was like this.

In the meantime, he would work on redesigning the chicken coop. His original model was more for the aesthetic and to make sure the chickens stayed in. The first two concepts still stood, only now he needed to make allowances for intruders from outside the fence. It needed to be sturdy, safe, and also something that Stretch would love. Something to make him smile.

Please, let him smile.

Edge sat down at the coffee table with his pencils and graph paper to begin.

By the time he’d drawn up a basic draft, a couple hours had gone by and his spine was beginning to protest being hunched over while he sketched intently. Edge climbed to his feet, stretching and groaning luxuriously as his joints popped, a good sort of pain. Enough time had passed that he could check on Stretch again without feeling as if he were hovering and he went back upstairs, lightly knocking as a warning before going inside.

The only real difference was the shifting light from the windows. The blankets were pulled in tighter around Stretch, less a covering and more a cocoon. A glance inside the mug showed the tea was cold and untouched. But the water glass was moved and so was the bottle of painkillers, and Edge clung to that small sign. Otherwise, there was little changed, and he couldn’t see Stretch’s face, not so much as a glimmer of his eye lights shining through the blankets.

He picked up the mug. Leaving it would probably only make Stretch feel guilty and he hardly needed an extra serving of misery today. Perhaps he’d bring up a glass of juice later, apple juice on ice, one of Stretch’s favorites even if Edge shuddered to think of watering down juice that way. Stretch liked it, said that apple juice was better when it was as cold as possible, and with one of those ridiculous curling straws that he liked, yes, he would bring that up later with a mug of warm broth—

He was so caught up in the tangle of his own thoughts that he jerked when Stretch spoke, his hoarse voice startlingly loud in the quiet room.

“babe?” The word was hardly more than a raspy whisper. “i’ll try…” Stretch’s voice his voice cracked, and he swallowed audibly before started again, “i’ll get up tomorrow. promise.”

Edge closed his sockets. His own soul was heavy in his chest, on the verge of manifesting in an involuntary response to his aching need to help. He suppressed it firmly and kept his voice even and untroubled as he said, “You don’t need to promise me, love. Take all the time you need.”

The blankets shifted, Stretch’s skull bobbing in a nod and that was it. Much as he hated leaving his love alone here like this, there was nothing to be done. Not until Stretch found his way out of the Möbius strip of his anxiety and depression.

All Edge could do was be here for him and wait.

He went back downstairs and to the kitchen, pouring out the cold tea and rinsing the mug mechanically. A search of the freezer revealed a container of broth, the date on the top in his own crisp handwriting was from two months ago. It was tempting to make fresh and Edge resisted. This would be faster and he wanted to save his energy. Just in case Stretch needed anything from him, anything at all so that Edge wouldn’t feel so…

Helpless. That described perfectly how Edge had felt for the past little while with painful accuracy. Helpless to help Stretch, to protect him, to save him from the world or himself. Inaction did not sit well with him; in Underfell, Edge worked to join the guard to better protect the people of Snowdin, on the surface he worked with the Embassy, came up with strategies for the betterment of Monsters living amongst Humans. Those methods wouldn’t work with Stretch, he wasn’t a puzzle or a plan, and strategies fell apart when applied to the unpredictable, a living, breathing person.

There was a sudden knock at the door and Edge frowned, cursing silently and hurrying to see who it was. If Stretch were sleeping, he didn’t want him to wake and if he wasn’t, the very idea of guests might ruin whatever progress he’d made in his own head. Edge yanked open the door, ready to tell whoever it was to come back another day.

Only to find one of the very last Monsters he’d expected to see standing on his doorstep.

Bruno was large even for a Monster, towering over Edge and his curling horns added another several inches on top of it. He was the perfect example of what Humans might picture as a Monster. Covered in short, dark fur, with fangs protruding from the sides of his mouth and large hands tipped with claws. He was also nattily dressed in one of his own creations, a three-piece suit, complete with a pocket watch chain and a pair of shoes modified to allow his clawed toes to poke out, topped with spats.

More than once Bruno bemoaned to Edge that they’d come to the surface far too late and all the very best in fashion had already been abandoned in the Human world while Edge nodded in pained agreement. His designs often added past trends to current ones in a way that was aesthetically pleasing to Monsters and Humans alike. It kept him very busy and as far as Edge knew, he generally did not make house calls. And yet here he was, garment bags in hand.

“Ah, good afternoon!” Bruno swept off his hat and bowed deeply.

“Good afternoon,” Edge replied cautiously, “Do you mind if we speak outside? Stretch isn’t feeling well, and I don’t want to wake him.”

“Of course, of course!” Bruno’s whispers were much like Papyrus’s, pitched only slightly below his already booming voice. “It is a lovely spring day, we can speak out here!”

Edge stepped outside and closed the door behind him. He winced inwardly to see the bags in Bruno’s hands; he’d meant to call the tailor yesterday and with everything going on, he’d forgotten. “You’ll have to forgive me, it slipped my mind to contact you.” He gestured to his leg, still firmly secured in velcro and fiberglass. “As it turns out, I can wear the splint over my clothing, so I don't need any trousers adjusted.”

“This is good because I did not do that,” Bruno said firmly. “An attempt was made and it looked horrible. It could not be allowed.”

He should have guessed. “Then what can I do for you?”

“I am so glad you asked. I have brought what your husband ordered!” Bruno held up one of the bags triumphantly.

Despite the misery and uncertainty of the morning, Edge found his curiosity roused along with his wariness. “My husband. Ordered clothes for me.”

“But of course!” Bruno leaned in with a conspiratorial wink, “It is one of my creations, but he seemed quite interested in it!”

If wearing it would bring Stretch even a scrap of joy, Edge wouldn’t care if it was a clown suit. “Show me.”

With the flourish of a true salesman, Bruno unzipped the bag and whisked the clothing out, holding it up with arrogant grandeur.

That…was not what Edge expected. He’d thought perhaps something similar to Stretch’s clothing from his abduction visit to Bruno’s shop. Khakis and a button-up perhaps, or a fine sweater. Maybe even something in leather, Bruno was not snobbish when it came to true fashion.

This was something else. The suitcoat was a deep black, the cut of the jacket higher than he’d normally wear and the sleeves were embellished with unusual square buttons, the cuffs cut on the diagonal instead of straight across. There was a vest to match and several ties in a variety of colors hung neatly over one shoulder. That he took in with a cursory inspection.

It was the lower half of the garment that had his attention. A kilt, he recognized, in a pattern of green and blue with narrow red and white intersecting lines. Subdued and tasteful, a different sort of elegance than he normally chose. Edge slipped off a glove and cautiously fingered the material, testing the fineness of the cloth. He was not at all surprised at the quality he found, that at least wasn’t surprising. That it was made for him at all, however—

“Stretch chose this?” Edge murmured.

“Ah! He chose the concept, but this he has not yet seen.” There was a certain predatory gleam in Bruno’s eye. “You like it.”

“I do,” Edge admitted. There was no point in prevarication, Bruno had hooked his claws into Edge’s wallet long before he and Stretch were past the stage of constant bickering.

“Excellent!” Bruno said cheerily. He slipped it back into garment bag, fussily arranging it to prevent any snags from the zipper and now it was the other bags in his hand took hold of Edge’s curiosity.

“What are those then if they aren’t trousers?” he asked, hoping he wouldn’t regret the answer.

“I also brought more clothes for Stretch,” Bruno said slyly. He tugged down the zipper on one bag, offering a glimpse of a creamy material trimmed with a rich blue that would be lovely coupled with Stretch’s magic. “His other outfit turned out so nicely that I thought to make more.”

Of course. That sort of cutthroat salesmanship would have served Bruno well in Underfell, Edge thought with a certain amused sourness. But he hesitated over accepting any new clothing. He never wanted Stretch to feel like he was trying to change him and yet, the memory of that last outfit, the way those trousers delectably fit against his slim bones. If Stretch needed wear something better than his normal track pants and hoodies, Edge’s clothes served for most things, and yet, they weren’t made for him like these would be, fitting him like a well-loved glove.

Bruno was waiting patiently, but there was no mistaking his knowing expression. A clotheshound always knew another of their kind .

"Add them to the order," Edge sighed. He could store them downstairs in the laundry room for now. If he left them in the bags, Stretch would assume they were his dry cleaning and perhaps someday, when the timing was better, he could ask? If that time never came, he would only be out the money, even if the sum on the bill that Bruno handed over made him wince slightly.

He took the bags that Bruno handed over without looking, though temptation was furiously strong. Better not to torment himself right now, he didn’t need the distraction.

“Thank you for your patronage,” Bruno called cheerily as he made his plodding way down the walkway. “Tell Stretch I hope he feels better soon!”

“You’re welcome and I will,” Edge replied, a touch dryly. If nothing else, he owed Bruno for the distraction, their brief conversation left him feeling calmer, settled. He went back inside and downstairs and he’d barely gotten the bags hung up in the laundry room when his phone buzzed. A quick glance showed the text was from his brother and Edge frowned, opening it.

There was nothing but an address for here in New New Home and the sharp swell of his annoyance far outstripped his brother’s action, but today, Red’s cryptic nature was more than a little unwelcome.

He sent a curt message back, I am in no mood for a scavenger hunt.

A return text came swiftly. trust me.

Edge stared at those two words, unblinking. It was something Red said often, carelessly tossing the words out with a smirk and a wink, all sly insinuation and mocking. And yet at the end of it all, as much as Red infuriated him and antagonized him, he did. Edge did trust his brother.

Edge left the message unanswered, allowing himself that much petulance, and made his way back upstairs. He’d check on Stretch once more and then go see whatever it was his brother wanted to show him. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take long and wouldn’t end with any other problems to weigh on him. Edge had more than enough on his plate right now.

~~*~~

read next chapter

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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teaveetamer · 4 years

Text

My Issues With TFioS (and Other Elements of John Green)

Alright I’m just going to preface this with two things.

It’s been about six years since I’ve read the entire thing through, so my points are probably not going to be as detailed or precise as they were when I first read it.

If you enjoyed the book, identify with the fanbase, or like John Green in any capacity... Great! You might want to skip this one. This is definitely not the post for you. I’m going to put all of my more controversial thoughts under the cut so if you don’t want to see them you can just move on.

I brought up the book in that other post because I felt it had relevance to the discussion of “authors using characters as a mouthpiece”, but that’s only a small part of my issue with the book itself. I suppose I could have used a fanfiction example, since there’s more than enough fodder there, but I brought up The Fault in our Stars specifically because I feel comfortable criticizing a book in a way that I don’t feel comfortable criticizing fan works. John Green is a public figure that produced a paid product, made money, and does this professionally, while most fanfic authors are amateurs that provide free entertainment and just do it for fun.

Now with that said, we move on to the meat of the post.

Some Background

Perhaps this is not a little known fact, but I absolutely adore love stories. I don’t have incredibly high standards for them by any means, and in fact I actively enjoy them even when they aren’t the deepest, most thought provoking pieces. Someone got me a copy of Red, White, and Royal Blue for my birthday this year and I read the entire thing cover to cover in a day (and I seriously recommend if you’re looking for a pretty easy read with a lot of gay).

The only thing I love more than love stories? Tragic love stories, of course. If anyone has followed my fanfiction or main blog for any amount of time then you know that I love a little bit of tragedy. Usually with a happy ending, but not always. So when one of my friends shoved (and I mean literally shoved) The Fault in Our Stars into my hands and billed it as a “tragic but heartwarming love story” I thought it would be perfect for me.

I was sixteen at the time, the target age demographic, and I was always looking for books with smart, well written teen characters. At this point in my life I’d never heard of John Green or his fanbase before. I tell you this because I disliked the book as I read it, but I think John Green and his fanbase are a major factor in why I disliked it so much I’m willing to sit down and write a blog post about it six years later. Granted, that’s not all on the book, but it is a factor.

Needless to say, I was not all that impressed by it. At some points I was downright infuriated, really.

My Issues With the Book

In summary, it feels very meh and overly pretentious. After about two chapters I just wanted to put it down, and the only reason I pushed through is because my friend insisted that it got better. She said it was funny, relatable, and intelligent, but I found it to be none of these things.

The impression I got was that the author, whoever he was, fancied himself terribly clever and he wanted everyone to know it. You know the type, the kinds of people that go around and assure everyone of how smart they are? It feels like it was made for haughty teens to brag about how intelligent they were because they read a “deep” book. The book itself, despite being a surface level of “witty”, didn’t really have anything to say. In the end it reads like a thirty-something year old man bragging about how smart he is and waxing philosophical about the nature of life (and... Breakfast food..?) and using a fictional teenage girl to do it.

That’s why I brought up the “mouthpiece” thing. I didn’t want to read a book about a thirty-something dressing up his thoughts as a teenage girl. I wanted to read a book about a teenage girl.

Speaking of Hazel Grace… I don’t know if this is a common experience, but can anyone else tell when a man writes a female character? I find that I usually can. Men have a particular voice when they write, and especially when they write women. Every single page hammered me over the head with the fact that this was a man who was trying (and, in my opinion, failing miserably) to write a relatable teenage girl. And, in my opinion, he parroted a lot of very upsetting, dangerous mentalities for young women.

There were quite a few “I’m not like other girls, and not just because of the cancer!” moments (a mentality that I find wholly problematic coming from other women, let alone a man writing for a woman) that just had me rolling my eyes straight out of their sockets. She doesn’t care about shoes, see! She reads books! Isn’t that awesome and unique? Because, apparently, women are not allowed to do both.

These problematic mentalities extend into the book’s romance plot, too. Augustus is, frankly, one of the creepiest motherfuckers I’ve ever had the displeasure to read about. Not only is his aggressive creepiness portrayed as romantic, but Hazel reacts exactly how men wish women would react to their advances. Unfortunately I don’t have a copy of the book in front of me so you won’t get much in the way of direct quotes, but some examples include:

He stares at her, completely unblinking, for the duration of their cancer kids support group meeting… before they’ve even so much as spoken a word to each other. Which also features this gem of a quote: "A nonhot boy stares at you relentlessly and it is, at best, awkward and, at worst, a form of assault. But a hot boy . . . well." which just perpetuates the disgusting misconception that women are okay with being creeped on as long as a guy is attractive. Spoiler alert: We fucking aren’t.

He repeatedly refers to Hazel as “Hazel Grace”, despite her introducing herself as “Hazel” and asking him to just call her “Hazel”. And not only does he ask for her full name, he demands she give it to him. This rings all kinds of alarm bells for me, because you know who else does that kind of shit? Christian Grey. And it’s manipulative, disrespectful, and downright rude. It is essentially saying “I hear your desires, but I would prefer to address you how I want to address you, not how you would like to be addressed, because my ego is more important than your comfort”.

Hazel is perfectly fine with getting into a complete stranger’s car and spending time at his house mere minutes after meeting with him and after all of the questionable shit he just pulled.

Continuing this book’s litany of problems with women, let’s talk about Isaac’s (ex)girlfriend. The book treats their breakup as this massive betrayal, then even goes on to justify vandalizing her property because of it.

I’m sorry, but no.

You, as an autonomous human being, have the right to end a relationship with someone else whenever, wherever, and for whatever reasons you designate, regardless of previously expressed emotions or promises. How and when she did it was not the most ideal, but she’s an emotionally immature teenager, and there’s never going to be a good time to do something like this. What was she supposed to do, keep pity dating him because she felt sorry for him? Wait until someone invented technology to cure blindness? Assuming she did actually break up with him because of his disability… Are her reasons shitty? Sure. But she’s allowed to have them.

And you know what? He’s allowed to be mad about it. His anger might be completely understandable, if not totally justified. But you know what else? That does not give him the right to take revenge on her by vandalizing her property.

I would have no problem with this scene if it were honest about what it was: a bunch of teenagers with under-developed frontal lobes that are angry and feeling vindictive. But it’s not that. It’s depicted as not only completely justified, but heroic. I’m sorry, no. You are never heroic for harassing another human being.

And Augustus’s dumb little speech to her mom is such garbage. You really expect me to believe that a grown woman was so pwned by some jerk teenager’s super witty justification for destroying her property that she just went inside and, idk, watched TV? Didn’t call the police to report the crime that he and his friends were actively committing against her? Bullshit.

Speaking of bullshit, that scene is pretty egregious, but that doesn’t even begin to cover my issues with this book’s pretentious dialogue. If you told me that they ran every word in this book through Thesaurus.com then I would believe you without hesitation. The one hook, the draw, the thing that kept me reading was supposed to be the relatable characters, but they just aren’t relatable. They’re not realistic in the slightest. Seriously, go read any line of this book out loud and tell me how ridiculous you feel. I kept expecting Augustus to pull off his skinsuit and reveal that he was secretly a robot trying to imitate human speech the entire time.

I’m not sure how far I can go into this point without giving you direct quotes, but half the stuff that comes out of these characters mouths is pseudo-intellectual nonsense. “Put the killing thing between your teeth so it can’t kill you”?

It’s not a metaphor.

Putting an unlit cigarette in your mouth is still stupid. I guess it won’t give you lung cancer, but really? It’s still not a great idea.

Augustus has to go buy these cigarettes, which means he’s actively going out and giving money to an industry that has been funding pseudoscience and suppressing health initiatives that would prevent people from suffering what he did (i.e. fucking cancer).

Here’s a clue: Tobacco companies don’t actually care about what you do with the cigarettes. Their transaction stops as soon as you put the money in their hands. I could purchase a hundred packs and throw them in the garbage, and the only thing they know is that they got about $600 from me. Way to “stick it to the man”, asshole. You’re not clever.

With the exception of the Isaac’s-girlfriend thing, all of that is in chapters 1-4, by the way. This book turned me off so thoroughly that early.

So by the time the Amsterdam trip rolled around I was already not enjoying this book, but then this thing happened and it was just the final nail in the coffin for me. You probably know what I’m talking about already, but if you don’t… The Anne Frank Museum kiss.

I honestly cannot even articulate how incredibly tasteless and disrespectful I find the entire thing, and not only does that happen, but it’s followed by an r/ThatHappened “and then everybody stood up and clapped!” Seriously?

There are smarter, more well-versed people than me that have covered this topic, so I’ll leave the analysis for why that’s all kinds of wrong to them.

Those are really my big gripes, though there’s a few smaller ones (like Augustus throwing a pre-funeral like are you a psychopath? Why would you put the people you love through that???) that I’m not going to touch on because they weren’t all that instrumental in putting me off. Instead I’ll move on to the external factors.

The Fanbase

So I finished the book, a little miffed at having just wasted my time, and immediately told my friend that I didn’t like it much, and that I would be returning her copy the next day. Feeling pretty meh-to-slightly-negative about it, but whatever, it happens.

I was essentially met with “wow I can’t believe you didn’t get it.” and “Oh well maybe you’ll finally understand how deep it is when you’re older” from my friend. Which is really just one step away from the wow can’t you read?! BS that I’ve been seeing more and more frequently these days. So immediately I was pissed. All that aside, I was sixteen, the target age demographic? If I didn’t ‘get it’ then John Green was doing a pretty piss poor job of conveying what it is.

So I went online seeking something. Either validation that I wasn’t wrong and that I didn’t miss the point, the book just wasn’t great, or an explanation of what this it was that I’d missed. And let me tell you... Spotting a negative opinion of this book was like looking for a unicorn. There were a few, and many of them were met with the same kind of thing I had experienced. Vitriol, insistence that they were stupid or that they didn’t get it (again, with no explanation of what it was), and, apparently, a lot of harassment and threats.

I discovered that John Green’s target audience had a tendency to be… A bit obsessive. Lots of young, impressionable teenagers that were willing to jump on an opposing opinion with zealous outrage. If I had any interest in pursuing any of John Green’s other works or John Green as an internet personality any further, then it died in that moment. Absolutely nothing turns me off like a rabid, spiteful fanbase.

Now by this point I was already in the rabbit hole, and I began encountering a lot of criticisms of John Green and the things he’s said and done in the past. I did not like what I found.

John Green Himself

To be extremely blunt, the guy put such a bad taste in my mouth that it retroactively soured my opinion of The Fault in Our Stars even more. Since this is a post about my opinions on the book, I’m only going to be discussing things that affected my view at the time I read it. These are all things that happened six years ago, and I have no idea what this man has been up to or what he’s said about any of these topics since.

Let’s just get this out of the way… John Green writes the same book over and over. There’s always a quirky, nerdy white boy that is invariably cisgendered, and almost always straight. He is always an outcast with only a few friends, though apparently never directly bullied. He always meets an edgy girl that he falls in love with the idea of. Usually there is a road trip somewhere in there too.

The Fault in our Stars admittedly doesn’t follow the exact same framework, but it’s close enough in a lot of ways. Instead of the Quirky, Too-Smart-For-His-Own-Good cisboi being the PoV character, it’s the love interest (Hazel also fits this description, albeit a female version). Hazel and Augustus are both still outcasts. Hazel is attracted to Augustus because he’s Deep and Edgy and A Little Larger Than Life. The road trip is a flight to Amsterdam.

Looking at the man... Yeah the entire premise starts to come off as some weird self-insert fanfiction. I can feel the “I was a quirky, bullied teen and I wish this is how my high school life had been!” energy coming through absolutely every pore and every molecule of ink. Every character reads like John Green. John Green has written book after book and the main character always appears to be John Green in a slightly different teenage skinsuit.

And that’s fine, I guess. A little lazy, but I guess it’s working for him since he’s making hella bank? It’s certainly not enough to put me off the guy, just not something I’m interested in reading, and not something I find compelling.

What put me off for good were some of his comments. Dude skeeves me the fuck out. I’ll just go over some of the highlights I found at the time, and why they upset me so much when I heard them.

“Nerd girls are the world's most underutilized romantic resource.”

As a nerdy girl that has been stalked and harassed by men because I’m “good girlfriend material” (aka I like video games and traditionally masculine stuff and I’m pretty! I must be a unicorn!), this statement is disgusting.

I don’t care if it was a joke. I don’t care if he wasn’t being serious. This is the kind of shit that men think is a compliment because they think it makes “quirky” girls feel “unique” and “special”, but that “complement” is also an insult. You know why? Because it makes female interests all about how men perceive their sexual or romantic viability.

John Green’s penchant for writing “special” and “unique” girls (while simultaneously shaming “typical” girls, but I’ll get to that in the next point) and depicting them as the ideal woman just reaffirms my feelings about this quote. I think, on some level, John Green has no idea why this is such a bad take. And that’s not even getting into the fact that he called human beings resources. Women are not objects that exist to be a plot device or for your gratification. Fuck right off with that shit.

“She was incredibly hot, in that popular-girl-with-bleached-teeth-and-anorexia kind of way, which was Colin’s least favourite way of being hot”

This is just one quote of many that shames people with eating disorders and weight problems (on both ends of the spectrum, “too fat” and “too skinny”. Another fun one being: “there’s the weird culturally-constructed definition of hot, which means ‘that individual is malnourished, and has probably had plastic bags inserted into her breasts.’")

Know what this line is? It’s called “negging”, and it’s a popular tactic of incels because it works. You make someone seek your approval by intentionally giving them backhanded compliments to undermine their self esteem. The idea is that the more you insult them, the harder they’ll work to try and impress you. It doesn’t work on everyone, but you know who it does tend to work on? Insecure younger people (usually girls). You know who John Green’s target audience is? Insecure teenage girls.

As for the actual substance of the quote… I hate it. He’s shaming a woman for the choices she makes over her appearance. Which are, fun fact, none of his damn business. Also the idea that “skinny” and “anorexic” somehow need to go hand in hand is just wrong, insulting women for a mental health disorder they have no control over is offensive, and using a serious mental health disorder (did you know that anorexia is the most deadly mental health condition?) as an insult is disgusting.

Coming back to my earlier point about shaming “normal” girls, this quote is just the tip of the iceberg. He repeatedly shames women in his books for looking or behaving “typically”, while quirky girls are lauded as the ideal. Quirky girls are “weird and interesting” and normal girls are “boring”. If this was intended as a compliment, it’s a shitty one. If you have to shame one group to make another feel better, it is not a compliment. You are lowering all women when you pull that shit. You teach them that in order to feel good about themselves another group has to be made to feel worse.

And hey, maybe the pretty girl likes her teeth bleached because it makes her feel confident? Why can’t bleached teeth girl and anime t-shirt girl both be beautiful and unique and confident in their own right? Why is it “powerful” for anime t-shirt girl to wear her nerdy clothes, but scorn-worthy for bleached teeth girl to like bleaching her teeth?

What John Green is doing is simply replacing one ideal (skinny pretty girl) with another (quirky cute girl), and then he pretends like his version is somehow “woke” because it’s not based on physical appearance (though all of the women in his books are also physically attractive. Hmmm. Guess “nerd girls” are only “viable resources” when they aren’t hard to look at?).

And trust me, I’ve been down this path. I’ve been taken in by guys who try to make me feel ~special~ by putting down other women, and it leads to absolutely nothing good. It doesn’t make you feel better. It just makes you feel angry and resentful, and that’s not a place you want to be in. In fact, this was a mentality I had recently escaped from around the time I picked up this book. Seeing someone with as much influence as John Green parroting this specific brand of toxic shit to exactly the audience that would be most likely to feed into it? I was never going to be able to like the guy, sorry.

I know some people are able to “separate the art from the artist”, and I might have been willing to do that had the book actually been good… but it wasn’t. So in the end the book just looked worse for all of the author’s shortcomings.

So yeah, in summary: The book was mediocre at best, the author pushed all of my angry feminist buttons, and elements of the fanbase were annoying, condescending, and spiteful. I didn’t like the book in the first place due to the myriad of problems plaguing it, but everything else just made it look so much worse in hindsight.

Anyways, this probably got kind of ranty, but it was cathartic and I did make this blog to vent about dumb stuff. I think this qualifies.

#Personal stuff #TFioS Opinion Piece #Sorry it took so long #I had a lot to say #A little ranty

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casuallydeliciousphilosopher · 5 years

Text

Things That Go Bump In The Night Pt. 1 of 2

This is my contribution to the @thedeckerstarnetwork Helloween Gift Exchange! I wrote this for @missielynne and my original prompt was the beach, blue, and vampire. But, missielynne gave me the option to go off track and come up with whatever sparked my fancy! I did keep the vampire element though! :D

This fic is rated T for graphic depictions of violence. It has established Deckerstar, established Laze, and established Dan/Charlotte (they deserve to be happy, sue me). Set sometime after the season three finale, where all involved parties are ‘in the know’.

@missielynne I hope you enjoy your gift! I just wish that I had just a little more time to put into this (but alas, school has killed me this semester). I’ll have part two up by tomorrow at the very latest, sorry for the minor cliffhanger, but I promise you won’t have to wait long!

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Chloe drew in a deep breath of the crisp autumn air as she stepped out of the Corvette, the slight breeze sending fallen leaves and straws of hay skittering past her feet. She glanced over her shoulder when she heard the solid thud of Lucifer closing the driver’s side door of the car, watching as he fished a cigarette and a lighter out of his pockets with ease.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to light up here?” She asked curiously as she gestured to the ground and the thick layer of hay that resided there.

“Are you applying for the role of fire commissioner?” Lucifer chuckled before placing it between his lips. Chloe rolled her eyes at his quip, but before she could begin to think of a fitting retort a white SUV was pulling up beside her. She didn’t have to look twice to know that it was Dan, Charlotte, and Trixie. Right on time. Now if only she knew when Maze and Linda would show up.

“Hey, Chlo.” Dan greeted her as he got out of the car, shooting her a smile that she quickly returned.

“Morning, Dan,” She quickly replied, watching as he pulled the rear door open, letting Trixie rush out of the car in a jumble of frizzy curls and gappy teeth.

“Mommy!” The screech of her title came just before her daughter collided into her legs, pulling a huff of breathless laughter from her as she bent down to pull her daughter closer.

“Hey there monkey.” Chloe murmured into her daughter's hair, pulling back slightly and taking in the girl’s appearance as she asked, “How was your weekend?”

“Good.” She answered happily, glancing over at her dad before she quickly added, “Charlotte helped me make Halloween cookies!”

“Did she?” Chloe asked curiously, offering Dan’s girlfriend a smile as the tall blonde walked around the front of the car before winding an arm around Dan’s back.

“They’re in the car,” Charlotte explained as Chloe righted herself, stepping forward to give the taller woman a quick hug.

“Thank you.” Chloe breathed as she pulled away, she had to admit that even though she felt a little guilty for not being there to help she was glad that at least Charlotte had been there for her daughter while she put in hours on overtime, chasing down leads that all turned into cold cases. This October had been particularly bad for missing people and what seemed to be homicides, if the massive pools of blood at the scenes were anything to go by.

“Lucifer!” Her daughter's bright peal of the fallen angel's name drew her mind from her work as she watched the girl fling her arms around his waist, jostling him hard enough to make him lose grip on the cigarette in his hand. The glowing stub fell into the thick layer of hay, quickly catching onto the dry straws as orange blue tongues of flame quickly lapped up. Chloe tensed as she watched him quickly snuff out the growing flames with his shoe, a thin trail of smoke trailing up from the smoldering ashes.

Before Chloe could even open her mouth to scold him, a shiny charcoal sports car pulled up on the other side of the Corvette before quickly cutting the engine. “Who said you could commit arson without me?” Mazikeen’s voice rang out as she stepped out of the car, earning a long-suffering sigh from the devil as his shoulders slumped slightly.

“Very funny, Mazikeen.” The retort was dry, humorless, and for the hundredth time this week Chloe wondered what exactly had been weighing on his shoulders. He wasn’t his usual cheery self; he was stressed, aloof, tired. Something was wrong, but every time she asked he claimed that things had just been taking their toll recently. Chloe wasn’t sure whether or not she should believe him.

“So, who’s ready for pumpkins?” Linda’s bright and cheery voice broke the quiet as she got out of the sports car and clapped her hands together, quickly easing the tense situation away as though it hadn’t existed in the first place.

“I am!” Trixie shouted happily, drawing a strangled laugh from her mother as the woman shook her head softly. It seemed as though this would be the new normal for Halloween’s from now on.

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“So, how true are all of the Halloween myths?” Dan’s curious voice broke the content quiet with ease as the small band of friends slowly picked their way through the vast field dotted with bright orange pumpkins.

“Which ones?” Lucifer chuckled, a smirk filling his face as he stared down at the shorter man.

“The ones about monsters.” He elaborated, a playful twinkle in his eye as he quickly looked the taller man over.

“And demons,” Linda chimed in a moment later, wrapping her arms around Maze’s waist, earning a soft hum of appreciation from the demon.

“And the devil coming out to play,” Chloe chuckled, nudging her boyfriend with her elbow and earning a wide grin from him.

“The devil has been out to play for a while.” He purred playfully, his voice sending a delightful wave of goosebumps prickling along her skin.

“Monsters are demons, just reduced to human terms and descriptions.” Maze explained after a short beat of silence, and the group came to a stop around her.

“Werewolves?” Charlotte questioned curiously.

“A kind of demon.” Lucifer supplied simply.

“Vampires?” Linda asked as she released her hold on Maze’s waist.

“Another kind of demon.” The demon answered as she reached down and took the blonde’s hand in her own.

“Zombies?” Trixie’s bright voice inquired as the child practically bounced around the adults.

“A product of the human imagination.” Lucifer chuckled as he started forward, spurring the rest of the group back into motion.

“Is the veil really thinner on Halloween?” Charlotte asked.

“Yes, actually.” The devil answered, “Though not very much so. Only the really strong ones can get through.”

“And if they don’t get back over in time, then it’s game over,” Maze added, taking a finger to her throat and making a slicing motion. Chloe shivered slightly at the implications of the gesture, willing herself not to think too much about it. She was still trying to come to terms with dating satan himself.

“So how are you two here year round?” Dan questioned, quirking a brow.

“I’m an angel, Daniel.” Lucifer scoffed, “I’m not reduced to any of the rules that pertain to demons.”

“What about Maze though?”

“I’m one of the powerful ones.” The demon in question answered. “And Lucifer’s angel magic keeps the veil open for me. I’m sworn to him, I’m allowed wherever he is.”

“You’re sworn to Lucifer?” Linda asked curiously, something that sounded like jealousy spiking in the woman’s voice.

“In service.” Lucifer clarified a half-second later. “The servant of an angel can only be an effective asset if allowed the same jurisdiction over an area as said angel.” He paused for a long moment, letting out a soft chuckle before quietly murmuring, “I don’t think Dad ever expected a demon to serve an angel, though.”

“So you just have a demon swear their services to you and suddenly they can come topside whenever they want?” Dan pressed, earning a scoff from the devil.

“It’s a bit more complicated than that, Daniel. I’m only allowed one at a time, and I can’t appoint another until the current one dies.” Lucifer clarified, nudging the man in the side with his elbow before conspiratorially adding; “And if I’m being honest, we all know that Maze will outlive even me.” His quip managed to draw a few chuckles from the group.

“Mommy, I found one!” Trixie’s bright voice drew the adults from their conversation as they turned to glance at the child as she crouched next to a massive pumpkin lying in the dirt.

“That’s a big one baby,” Chloe stated as she bent down beside her daughter, carefully brushing some dirt from the side of the pumpkin. “What are you going to carve in it?”

“A black cat! Or a witch!” She exclaimed happily as Dan retrieved a pocket knife from his jacket and quickly sawed through the thick stem. “Or Maze!” The girl's voice grew even more excited as she smiled at her favorite demon. “And then you could carve Lucifer!” Chloe forced herself not to snort at the mental image. It wasn’t as though her boyfriend needed any more reason to be cocky.

Maze stepped forward as soon as Dan bent down to pick up the behemoth of a pumpkin, scooping it up as though it weighed nothing. “I’ve got this.”

“Maze, you don’t have to.” The man protested quietly, trying to take the squash back as Maze batted his hands away.

“Hush, I’m trying to impress my girlfriend.” Maze quietly whispered under her breath, and Chloe grinned at the statement, watching as Dan only nodded mutely as he lifted his hands in mock surrender.

“So, is there even a point to Halloween?” Linda asked curiously, glancing between the two hellions.

“No,” Lucifer answered simply. “You humans and your odd traditions are mostly meaningless.” He chuckled, quickly adding; “Not that I’m going to complain about Halloween. It’s one of my favorite ones.”

The small group didn’t manage to get more than a dozen paces before Trixie’s bright voice was ringing through the air once more, “Dad! Can we go to the corn maze?”

“I haven’t picked my pumpkin yet, monkey.” The girl's shoulders slumped slightly at the statement, a soft huff of disappointment escaping her tiny frame.

“I could take her,” Charlotte offered a moment later, and the child perked back up immediately.

“Are you sure?” Dan asked, earning a quick nod from his girlfriend.

“Of course,” She answered, quickly placing a kiss against his cheek before continuing, “Go pick your pumpkin.” She turned to the girl a moment later, holding her hand out as she playfully asked, “We need more girl time anyways, don’t we?”

Chloe watched as the two linked hands before quickly making their way over to the maze across the field. A small spark of jealousy threatened to flare up, but she quickly pushed it irrational emotion away. Charlotte wasn’t replacing her, and Trixie deserved to have a good relationship with the woman who would likely be her stepmom one day.

As soon as the two forms disappeared into the mouth of the maze, Linda shot Dan a sly smile. “So, when are you going to propose to her?” The doctor questioned almost conspiratorially.

“What?” Dan chuckled. Shaking his head as he stammered over himself, “I don’t - I’m not -”

“Daniel,” Linda pressed, a no-nonsense tone taking up residence in her voice.

Dan let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his hair as he quickly dropped the charade and admitted, “I was thinking around Christmas time…”

His admission drew a wide smile from the doctor, and Chloe had to admit that she was a little surprised at how quickly their relationship was moving. Though to be fair, her relationship with Lucifer had been moving at roughly the same speed. Linda coughed exaggeratedly before nudging Lucifer with her elbow, earning an eye roll and a chuckle from the devil. “How subtle, doctor.” He admonished playfully,

“I’m just saying, you’re not getting any younger.” Linda stage-whispered, and Chloe couldn’t help the blush that spread across her cheeks at the thought of her devilish boyfriend proposing to her.

“I’m also not getting any older.” Lucifer replied, gesturing to himself as he added, “Immortal. Remember?”

Linda fell silent at that for a long moment, finding her voice after a drawn-out pause. “That does beg the question, what’s going to happen with you two when...well, when you get old?” She directed the last half of the question to Chloe, and she faltered under the woman’s knowing gaze.

It was a question that she’d been trying to avoid. The thought of the inevitable. The biggest roadblock standing in the way of the relationship that she had with her boyfriend. “I - um…”

Thankfully, Lucifer answered for her. “Chloe will go to heaven.”

“And you?” Linda pressed, her eyebrows drawing together as she asked,

“Well, either father will let me back in, or I’ll have to start a war. Besides, the place could use new management.” He answered simply. As though starting a war between heaven and hell was the simplest thing. “Don’t you think?” He asked, directing the question at Maze who gave him a demonic grin that sent a small wave of shivers down Chloe’s spine.

“New management would be good.” She purred, something dark and promising violence sparking in her eyes.

“Dude. You’re talking about overthrowing God.” Dan deadpanned, giving the two hellions a stern look as he continued, “Isn’t that like...the stuff of apocalypses?”

“It would be, if I actually had any intention of causing humans harm,” Lucifer answered, waving his hand through the air as though he could wave Dan’s question away. “What’s the saying, live and let live?”

Chloe worried her lower lip between her teeth as she quickly focused on a nearby pumpkin, crouching down beside it as she easily pulled the subject away from her death and a possible apocalyptic war. “Hey, I found my pumpkin!”

Lucifer bent down beside her, holding one of his hands out as she quietly ordered, “Mazikeen.” A moment later, a shiny black demon blade was being placed in his outstretched hand, before he made quick work of the pumpkins stem, slicing through it with ease.

Before either of them could right themselves, Charlotte’s voice was ringing across the field, “Dan! Chloe!” The desperation in her tone was enough to send the detective’s senses on high-alert, but it was the next words out of the woman’s mouth that made her blood run cold. “It’s Trixie!”

“What’s wrong?” Chloe questioned as she stood up, and if it wasn’t for the hand Lucifer wrapped around her forearm she would already be sprinting towards the woman.

“I lost her in the corn maze, I’m so sorry,” Charlotte explained breathlessly as she came to a stop before the small group. “One second she was right next to me, and the next she was just gone!” Chloe could hear the near hysterics in her voice, and it only made her try to pull free from Lucifer’s grip. “I can’t find her anywhere!” It was like a nightmarish re-run of when Malcolm had taken her baby, and it sent her heart skittering in her chest.

“I’ll find her.” Maze spoke up, quickly placing the massive pumpkin in her arms on the ground before stalking towards the corn maze with determined strides. “Child’s play.” The demon threw over her shoulder confidently as Chloe tried to pry Lucifer’s fingers from her arm.

“Darling.” He spoke up gently, soothing a hand over hers. “Give Maze a chance, she’s one of the best trackers I know.” The statement didn’t help her nerves at all, she knew that Maze was the best, but she still wouldn’t feel alright until she had her daughter back in her arms. “She’ll find your little offspring in no time.” Chloe wanted to protest, but she knew that he did have a point. Maze was otherworldly, and there was no way that she wouldn’t find her daughter...right?

Every second that ticked by seemed to be its own short eternity. And with every passing minute, even Lucifer seemed to grow more and more antsy. Maze came crashing through the side of the corn maze after a few minutes, but the sight Chloe was greeted with only sent her nerves racing under skin stronger than ever. Maze’s hair was a wild mess, and her eyes even seemed to be sparked with worry, but it was the words out of her mouth that almost made Chloe’s world stop spinning. “Lucifer, we have a problem.”

Chloe was frozen in place as her boyfriend cursed under his breath, quickly making his way over to the demon with determined strides. Chloe’s mind finally kickstarted itself a moment later, every single one of her synapses going into overdrive as she sprinted towards the two of them. “What’s wrong?” She questioned, doing her best to keep the hysterics from her voice as she followed after Lucifer and Maze as they stepped into the corn maze. “Where’s my daughter?” She pressed, barely even aware of Dan, Charlotte, and Linda following after them.

“I found her last spot.” Maze supplied, but the vague answer did nothing to soothe the distraught mother.

“And?” Lucifer questioned, his voice as business as he easily pushed thick stalks of corn out of his way.

“And traces of demonic activity.” Maze answered, pulling another string of muffled curses from the devil as he pressed forward. “Probably the same ones you’ve been keeping an eye on for a while.”

The simple statement made Chloe falter, Lucifer knew there were other demons around? “You’ve been keeping an eye out on some demonic activity for a while, and you never thought to tell me?” She questioned, the pitch of her voice rising slightly with each word. He should have told her. Why didn’t he tell her?

“Darling, I didn’t want to worry you with it. I doubted that they would do anything, especially to me or mine.” Lucifer explained, but it was a poor defense when her daughter was missing...stolen away by demons. “This is...unorthodox.” He muttered to himself before quickly adding, “If I had thought that anything might come of it I would have told you.”

Chloe opened her mouth to protest that he should have told her regardless, but Maze beat her to it as they stopped in the middle of one of the maze’s corridors. “This is the spot.” The demon stated, and Chloe quickly looked around, finding nothing out of the ordinary. “There were three of them.” Maze added, and another icy chill seeped through the detective’s body.

Chloe watched as Lucifer crouched down, quickly drawing some foreign symbols in the loose dirt under his feet before pressing his hand against one of them. The symbols glowed a blinding white for a moment, and then the light seemed to sweep out in every direction, pouring against the ground and illuminating several inhuman footprints, the shoe prints left by her daughters light-up sketchers, and a few puddles of something staining the dirt. “Oh, bloody hell,” Lucifer muttered under his breath, running a hand across his stubble as he blew out a long, harsh breath.

“Life drainers.” Maze whispered, and the name only served to stir up more unease in the detective.

“What?” She pressed, her voice nearly reaching hysterics at the thought of something called a life drainer having its filthy hands on her girl.

“Vampires.” Lucifer clarified a moment later. “Or at least...what you humans call vampires.”

“Are you saying that a group of vampires has my baby?” Chloe questioned, and for a moment she swore that she was going to start hyperventilating. Why would they take her daughter? Where would they take her? What was the point of this?

“How do we get her back?” Dan asked, having fallen into full-on cop mode as he stared down at the devil.

“Maze does some searching, I go back to Lux and dig through some of my older books, try to see if I can figure out how to locate them,” Lucifer explained as he stood up, brushing his shoe through one of the elaborate symbols in the dirt, immediately causing the otherworldly light seeping up from the footprints to disappear. “We will find her.”

“And then I’ll kill the bastards that had the nerve to take her.” Maze growled darkly, and the promising threat of violence in her tone sent a shiver down her spine as she stared at the ground.

Lucifer must have thought that her shiver had to do with something else, because he quickly stepped forward, resting his hands on her shoulders as he spoke up, “Darling, she’ll be alright.”

“How do you know that Lucifer?” Chloe questioned, tears welling up in her eyes as she shook her head. Vampires had her baby girl, and she was just supposed to believe that she was going to be alright because Lucifer said so? For all he knew they could have already hurt her...or worse.

“Because they usually don’t go after children. There’s no point, not even a full meals worth of blood in there.” Chloe shivered at the blunt honesty in the statement. “They must want her for something else…” He muttered softly, glaring at the soil beneath his feet before Mazikeen’s voice broke the heavy silence.

“A summoning ritual?” Lucifer nodded at her question, and Chloe wondered whether or not she should even ask what a summoning ritual was.

“On Halloween…” The devil added quietly, something calculating taking up residence in his expression as he turned to face his right-hand demon. “We have four days, Mazikeen.” Lucifer’s voice held a steely note as he spoke, and Chloe couldn’t help but dwell on the fact that four days wasn’t a very long time to track down a group of vampires. “Get to work.” Maze nodded once at his order, turning and grabbing Linda’s hand before dragging the other woman away from the group without another word. “We’re going home,” Lucifer stated, his tone leaving no room for argument as he wrapped a hand around Chloe’s forearm and started after Maze and Linda.

“And what are we supposed to do?” Dan questioned, a hint of anger and desperation in his voice.

“Stay out of our way while we hunt them down,” Lucifer answered. “You’re human, you won’t do any good here,” Dan said something else in protest after that, but she wasn’t able to pick up what. Some small part of her recognized that she was going into shock, and Lucifer seemed to notice it too as he ran warm, reassuring hands up and down her arms.

“Everything is going to be fine, Detective.” He murmured, and Chloe nodded mutely even though she had a very bad feeling that nothing may ever be fine again. “I promise,” Lucifer added a moment later, and that helped to soothe her at least a little bit. He didn’t lie. Especially not to her. Maze was already working on it, and she knew that as soon as he dropped her off at home and made sure she would be alright without him that he would join the chase.

Regardless of all of that though, some small part of her felt like there was no way this could get any worse. Her daughter was missing. And her life was at stake.

#the deckerstar network #deckerstar helloween fic exchange #helloween fic exchange #missielynne #deckerstar fanfiction #lucifer fanfiction #deckerstar ff #lucifer ff #lucifer on netflix #lucifer morningstar #chloe decker #mazikeen #linda #Daniel Espinoza #charlotte richards #laze #otp: waffles #my fic

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pastaraa-blog · 6 years

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Even With The Enemy (Ch.2/?)

SUMMARY: A series of dead bodies turn up in Seoul and Inspector Min Yoongi is assigned to the case. The police are quick to assume that it’s a serial killer running loose but Yoongi has other ideas. There’s more to this case than meets the eye.

PAIRING: Kim Taehyung | V / Min Yoongi | Suga

!!WARNING for graphic depictions of violence!!

Also on AO3

CHAPTER 2 - JIMIN AND HANSUNG

Lee Jung In. 35 years old. His body was found in a back alley at 2 a.m. on Sunday. He had five stab wounds – one on each leg, one on each hand, and one on the chest, which directly pierced his heart and ultimately killed him.

Kim Byung Ho. 36 years old. His body was found floating on a river at 11 a.m. on Tuesday. He had multiple lacerations on his torso and back and exactly eight stab wounds, three of which hit major arteries and caused severe bleeding. He died from blood loss.

Kim Hyun Woo. 38 years old. His body was found in a ditch at 10 p.m. on Friday. His body had the most physical trauma among the three victims and showed clear signs of torture. All of his fingers had been broken and all of his nails had been removed. He had broken ribs, multiple lacerations and stab wounds, and a head injury likely caused by a blunt object. The cause of his death was a collapsed lung resulting from a stab wound on the chest.

All three bodies had traces of two chemical substances, one was designed to render the victims unconscious while the other one was a slow-acting poison that caused paralysis.

All three victims were members of the Baeksaja, a gang notorious for dealing in drug trafficking and the sex trade behind their ‘legal’ business of owning clubs in the red light district.

Yoongi closed the folder and leaned back in his chair. He looked at the clock on his wall and saw that it was half past midnight. He was probably the only one left at the station. He had been so absorbed in reading the file, he had lost track of time.

It had been a while since Yoongi came across a case as troublesome as this. All three victims were known gang members and undoubtedly had their share of enemies so narrowing it down was going to be difficult. The use of similar chemicals suggested that the crimes had been committed either by the same person or a group of people who had contact with each other. If it was a group, it could be the work of a rival gang like Yoongi guessed earlier, however, based on the reports, Yoongi was more inclined to think that the murders were committed by the same person.

According to the autopsy, several of the victims’ stab wounds were of near-identical sizes, indicating that at least one similar knife had been used on all three of them. Unless gangs were now giving out standard-issue knives to all their members, these near-identical stab wounds could mean that the knife used on all three victims may have been owned by one person.

A knock on the door interrupted Yoongi’s thoughts. He muttered a quick ‘come in’ and the door opened, revealing Namjoon.

“Hey, I’m planning to head out soon,” Namjoon said, “Are you going to stay here?”

Yoongi stretched his hands above his head and yawned. “Nah, I’m heading out with you.” He got up from his chair and gathered his things. “I’m done for tonight. This case you’ve given me has tired me out.”

“So I guess you’ve finished reading all of it?” Namjoon had the audacity to look apologetic after piling such a taxing case on Yoongi’s lap. “What do you think?”

“You couldn’t wait until tomorrow? I thought you said you were heading out.”

“Nothing comprehensive. Just your initial thoughts. I’d like to hear them while it’s fresh on your mind.”

Yoongi decided to give in. Denying Namjoon was difficult enough when he wasn’t bone weary. “I think our perp is just one person,” he said, “and this is more of a hunch right now but, judging by how the method of killing became bloodier and more gruesome with each victim, I think this was the work of someone with a personal vendetta. Either that or our perp is simply a sadistic bastard.”

“Hmm…” Namjoon nodded, “I thought the same thing, actually. Though you’re correct, it’s just a hunch right now, which is why I wanted you to take a look at the case. Hearing you say the same thing validates my initial assumptions.”

“As flattered as I am to hear that you value my opinion that much, my brain cells are pretty much dead right now. Can we save this conversation for later?” It was just as well that Namjoon and Yoongi had a friendly relationship. If this were anyone else, Yoongi would be receiving a stern reprimand for daring to talk to his superior officer in such a manner.

“Ah, sorry. I almost got carried away there. We should both get some rest. I have a feeling we’re going to have a long day tomorrow,” Namjoon stopped to look at his watch, “Or should I say, later today.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Dried leaves cracked under Jimin’s shoes as he trudged along the busy streets of Seoul. He tugged at his scarf and pulled his jacket tighter. It was nearing the end of October and the temperature had already dropped too much for his liking. Winter was going to be such a pain this year.

“Yo, Park Jimin!” A man on the street bellowed, catching the attention of bystanders. Jimin recognized the deep voice – would recognize it anywhere.

Jimin turned around to face the man. “Yo, Park Hansung! Don’t go shouting in the streets!”

The man, Hansung, gave Jimin a cheeky grin. “But you did too!”

“Yeah, but you started it!” Jimin replied, knowing full well that it made him sound like a child keeping up a stupid argument. He stopped walking and waited for Hansung to catch up to him. “What are you doing out this early? Doesn’t the shop open until later?” He asked once they were walking side by side, voice now down to an acceptable volume.

“Our vegetable delivery guy is out sick today so I’m supposed to pick up our supply from the market,” Hansung said through a yawn. He was cheerful like he usually was but now that Jimin was looking closely, it was apparent that he was tired.

“Didn’t get much sleep last night?” Jimin knew that Hansung worked multiple jobs to make ends meet but this was the first time he was seeing him this tired in the morning.

“You could say that. I haven’t had much time to sleep the past week.”

“You didn’t get another part-time job, did you?” Jimin asked, concern lacing his tone. “You can’t keep on pushing your body like that, Hansung-ah.”

“This coming from Park Jimin? The Park Jimin who stayed behind every day after training and pulled weekly all-nighters back when he was at the police academy? That Park Jimin?”

“That was a situation where only I could do something to improve my performance so I did it. This is different. If you’re short on money then you can always come to me. You don’t need to get another job. You work too much already.”

“I always say this but you’re too kind, Jimin.” Hansung gave Jimin a fond smile. “Thank you for offering but I can’t take your money.”

“Hansung, you don’t–”

“I’m doing fine on the money front, don’t worry. In fact, I didn’t get another job.” Hansung added a wink for good measure. “I was just caught up in things last week but I’m all good. I know how to pace myself.”

Jimin was still a bit skeptical – Hansung had a habit of making light of his problems so as not to worry others – but let the topic slide for the moment. “As long as you’re taking care of yourself…”

“I am, I promise. Buuut, enough about me! How about you? How was your first day at the station?”

Jimin swallowed the sigh that was his impulsive response to that question. That would only make Hansung worry. “It went well, actually. The Senior Inspector in charge of our station seems like a really nice guy and I met a Senior Officer who was very friendly and introduced me to everyone.” It wasn’t a lie. All of those things did happen on his first day and if Jimin chose to omit the part where his direct superior seemed to find him annoying and had been more than happy to foist him off onto other people as soon as possible, Hansung was none the wiser.

“That’s great! I’m happy that your first day went well. I remember you were worrying so much about your colleagues bullying you or something,” Hansung said with a teasing smirk, “I told you those stories were just made up to scare newbies and you didn’t believe me.”

“Hey, don’t make fun of me! Those things do happen! I’m just lucky I got assigned to a station with decent senior officers.” Senior Inspector Min seemed like he didn’t want to have anything to do with Jimin but he hadn’t been cruel. Gruff and aloof, maybe, but not cruel. Jimin should probably be thankful for that.

“Hmm, if you say so…” Hansung looked reasonably impressed, of what Jimin wasn’t quite sure. “But if anyone bullies you, just tell me and I’d go over there to give them a talking to!”

To anyone else, Hansung’s words probably sounded like a joke but Jimin knew that he was serious. “Hansung, I don’t think making a scene inside a police station is a good idea, but thanks for always having my back,” Jimin said. Hansung often had silly ideas but Jimin knew he always meant well.

Sharing a morning walk with his best friend was a balm for Jimin’s soul and he had arrived at the station in considerably high spirits. Unfortunately, not even the pleasant start to his morning was enough to shield him from the ominous air that greeted him when he stepped into Senior Inspector Min’s office.

In Senior Inspector Min’s hurry to get rid of him the day before, Jimin had forgotten to give the man a copy of his assignment papers. Jimin had thought it would be okay for him to drop by the Senior Inspector’s office early in the morning to hand the papers over but he hadn’t expected to walk into what appeared to be a very important meeting between Senior Inspector Min and Senior Inspector Kim. Judging by the clouded look on the two men’s faces, Jimin guessed that whatever it was they were talking about, it was a terrible situation that was way, way above Jimin’s pay grade.

“Were you eavesdropping?” That was Senior Inspector Min and he looked pissed. Granted, the man seemed to have a resting annoyed face but this time, Jimin could tell that he was really quite angry.

“N-no, sir.” Came Jimin’s quick denial. The last thing he wanted was for his superior officers to think that he was up to no good on his second day at work.

“Uh huh?” Senior Inspector Min didn’t look convinced. “So what, they don’t teach you how to knock at the academy?”

“Uhm, I – I was… ” Jimin felt like his heart was lodged in his throat. He contemplated the merits of telling Senior Inspector Min that he did knock before entering but the two senior inspectors seemed to have been too engrossed in their discussion to notice or to respond so Jimin decided to push the door just a little to see if there was anyone inside. It was just Jimin’s luck that Senior Inspector Kim opened the door at the same time so he had been dragged into the room without warning, effectively barging into the senior officers’ tense meeting. Jimin found the whole experience mortifying, really.

“Yoongi, please don’t scare him,” Senior Inspector Kim said and Jimin felt like he could kiss the man in gratitude. “Relax, Officer Park. I don’t believe that you were eavesdropping and I’m pretty sure forgetting to knock once in a while isn’t a punishable offense. I know I’m guilty of the same thing sometimes.”

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Senior Inspector Kim was one of the nicest, most respectable guys Jimin had ever met in his entire life. Jimin was blessed to have been assigned to this man’s station.

“Thank you, sir!” Jimin bowed ninety degrees. “And I’m sorry for barging into your meeting, sir!”

“It’s fine. We were done here anyway. I’m leaving you two.” Senior Inspector Kim clapped Jimin’s shoulder on his way out. “Yoongi, don’t be too harsh on him.”

Jimin only rose from his bow when he heard the door click shut behind him. Senior Inspector Kim was very kind about the whole thing but now, Jimin was alone with Senior Inspector Min and without a buffer, he might very well be put through the wringer by his direct superior.

Senior Inspector Min sighed. To Jimin’s relief, the words from Senior Inspector Kim seemed to have mollified him. “I suppose I should have told you this yesterday but, Rule Number One – knock if you want to enter my office. If you don’t hear an answer, don’t come in. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Rule Number Two, don’t ever eavesdrop on any conversation happening inside this office. Or any office for that matter. Clearances exist for a reason and there are things you don’t need to know.”

“Yes, sir.” Jimin felt that particular scolding was underserved as he hadn’t been eavesdropping but he wasn’t about to talk back to his superior officer like that.

“And Rule Number Three.” Senior Inspector Min rose from his seat and walked towards Jimin. “Don’t be so fucking meek all the damn time. I don’t appreciate insubordination but I hate mindless obedience even more. There’s a fine line between the two, learn to thread it, otherwise, you’ll never survive this job. Do you understand?” It was probably only Jimin’s imagination but there seemed to be a hint of concern in Senior Inspector Min’s tone.

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

to be continued…

#fanfic #taegi #bts #taegi au #bts au #bts fanfic #ewte

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thegingerlikes · 6 years

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Literal brOTP

My new favorite thing, especially in Marvel films, is family relationships. My favorite part of GotG2 is the Nebula-Gamora dynamic, my fave part of Spiderman: Homecoming is Dad!Tony and his Spiderson, and my favorite part of ANY Thor movie is the Thor-Loki sibling rivalry. I’m going to focus on the latter in this squeal-essay.

I have really enjoyed Loki and Thor’s development over the films, both separately and together.

Thor is my favorite Avenger now because he has gradually shed his brawn-heavy approach and become more of a strategist. That, coupled with his loyalty and his newfound selflessness, make him a great role model and a perfect foil for Loki.

In the first Thor film, Loki progresses from a restless little brother to a man obsessed with simultaneously proving himself to and defeating his adoptive father and brother. At the core, this validation is all he really wants, even more than dominion over others (though he might settle for widespread fame and adoration). In Thor: The Dark World Loki experiences the ACTUAL loss of one of his “false” family, and is actually affected by it. This surprises even him. This causes, I believe, for Loki to stop trying to kill Thor and Odin. In Thor: Ragnarok, Loki realizes he not only doesn’t want Thor dead, but he wants to be a family with him. I’ll delve into why later on.

As Thor and Loki evolve over the span of the films, so too does their relationship with each other. To me, this is the most interesting part of either of their characters: Thor isn’t as compelling without Loki, Loki is just another trickster without Thor.

Even in his initial jerk form, Thor is loving toward his little brother. Even when he finds out they aren’t related, he’s still loyal and believes the best of Loki. Pre-first film, I like to think this was a point of pride for Loki. He’s able to do whatever he wants and still retains the love of Thor. But since Loki is a trickster, he may think Thor only loves the mask of the dutiful brother he puts on. For a while this is partially true, and prevents Loki from truly connecting with his brother.

Loki’s family history is truly tragic. He was thrown away as a nuisance, picked up as a boon, and deceived his whole life. He has such low self-esteem that his first reaction to his Jotenheim heritage is to completely eradicate it. When a reformed Thor denounces the genocide, Loki is confused: didn’t Thor want war with Jotunheim before being banished? Then he realizes his brother has changed. What’s worse, he’s changed for the better, and Loki had no hand in it (this is why Loki is so bitter about Jane in Thor. Not because his brother was in love, but because Jane had accomplished in days what Loki couldn’t in years. Though, in reality, Jane didn’t do much to humble Thor). In his eyes, he’s not only lost his adoptive father to the Odin sleep, but he no longer knows his brother.

Thor, conversely, doesn’t ever consider Loki not his sibling, even after learning that Loki is a frost giant. But he also holds onto the brother he knew like a totem, not considering that Loki might have changed or, even worse, had always been different than the way Thor saw him. This blind love produces blind loyalty in Thor. Thor’s loyalty infuriates Loki. He wants to be the victim, wants to be completely justified in the horrible acts he commits. Thor’s love for him prevents that, in the eyes of others and even himself. So he denies Thor’s feelings as illegitimate, while simultaneously striving to make Thor hate him to kill off the last scrap of connection he has to his adoptive family.

Over the movies, he succeeds, to an extent. Thor holds out hope for Loki all through the murders he commits during the Chitari invasion, continuing to fall for Loki’s tricks because he still trusts him. Then Loki kills Coleson. After that, Thor accepts that Loki’s darkest side has consumed him: Loki is selfish, murderous, and without remorse. Still, he doesn’t hate him, doesn’t kill him. He never even comes close.

And Loki doesn’t, either. Upon rewatching Avengers recently, I noticed Loki’s hidden blade he stabs Thor with was very small. It would have been easy for Loki to carry a longer knife (heck, maybe he did), but his goal was to hurt Thor, but not kill him. Loki might tell himself he spared Thor because he wants his brother to witness his success, but really, he values his blond counterpart.

Loki’s dependence on Thor for validation becomes more obvious in Thor: The Dark World. This movie is a mess, but it does accurately depict how the Attack on New York would affect on the brothers. Loki has begun to realize his limits, and Thor has realized how dark and demented his brother is. At the beginning of the movie, both men are content to despise each other for all time. Then, Frigga dies.

Frigga’s death greatly impacts how each son treats the other. Thor’s opinion of Loki changes very little, but he does want to be reasonable with Loki, so as to honor their mother’s memory. Loki, on the other hand, gains a stronger appreciation for his family after experiencing how profoundly his mother’s death affected him. The viewer can see him wrestle with this during the film, as he wants Thor to trust and pay attention to him, but also does whatever he can to rattle Thor’s cage. And in a hilarious turn of events, Thor accidentally encourages this behavior by pulling tricks on Loki.

My favorite parts in any Thor movie are when Thor gets one over on Loki, because not only is it funny, but most of the time you can tell Loki loves it. Before, Loki played a one-sided, cat and mouse game Thor didn’t even know about. Now Thor is in on it, and Loki is surprised to find he likes the challenge. It also feeds into Loki’s pretty obvious masochism, but I won’t get into that here.

One of the obstacles to Loki trusting Thor is Thor’s blind faith in Loki. It’s not until Thor begins distrusting Loki and anticipating his schemes that Loki believes his brother could actually love the true him. The tables have turned: now that Loki has finally attained his goal of making Thor disillusioned towards him, he now he wants Thor’s esteem. We have to give the trickster some credit: he knows his brother, and he knows what works for him. But instead of playing the long game and slowly regaining Thor’s trust, he fakes his own death, banking on the moral benefit of dying for another, and the “absence makes the heart grow fonder” principle.

And that death scene. Oh boy. I acknowledge Loki’s main motivation in faking his death was to escape prison and be venerated as a hero on Asgard, but he put in the extra effort to be Thor’s hero specifically. He says he’s sorry (for what? It could be for “not listening”, it could be for all his sins in the past), then he admits he died for Thor, not Odin. When recounting Loki’s heroism, Thor would have left this out, and Loki knows this. He wants to show Thor his hope in him wasn’t unfounded. Thor, his loyalty for his brother renewed, accepts his death (again), not believing even Loki could pull off such a deception.

But of course, he does, and even succeeds to peacefully and deftly usurp Odin in the process. Then, in the last scene of Thor: The Dark World, Loki as Odin talks to Thor. He gives a very self-aware speech about being proud of Thor, which I know is mostly for the audience’s benefit, and Loki could have only said what he thought Odin would say. What caught my imagination was that Loki!Odin didn’t send Thor on some long mission, or banish him, or suggest he wasn’t ready to rule. In addition, Loki couldn’t have been sure Thor would reject the throne, so what if Thor hadn’t? I believe Loki would have relished being Thor’s mentor, of ruling Asgard with him. This ambition definitely comes across in the next film.

Thor: Ragnarok is the culmination and resolution of all the past development between the brothers. Thor, bless him, figures out Loki’s deception pretty fast because, as Neil Gaiman writes in Norse Mythology, “when something goes wrong, the first thing [Thor] always thinks is, it is Loki’s fault. It saves a lot of time.” Even though he thought Loki was dead.

So Loki is almost back to square one as far as Thor is concerned. Thor distrusts him, and is angry with him for hexing and sending away their father. However, Loki doesn’t comprehend how badly he’s screwed up until Odin dies and Thor get murdery-eyed on the Norwegian plain. In that split-second, Loki knows that Thor is dangerously close to hating him. Curiously, he doesn’t prepare for a fight, but looks as if he’s going to beg for his life. Who knows what would have happened if Hela hadn’t shown up.

To his credit, Loki doesn’t attempt to join her side at any time in the film. Loki continues to act like Loki, though, putting his best interests first and his brother’s second. But Thor is his second. On Sakaar, Loki immediately invites Thor to be his co-conspirator in a coup d’état, again showing his willingness to rule alongside his brother (even if Loki is first-partner).

However, this is all too soon for Thor, who still sees his brother as an adversary, not an ally, and he rejects Loki’s offer. During the famous elevator scene, Thor tells Loki he agrees they shouldn’t even keep up the pretense of being a family. While Loki is obviously conflicted about this, Thor’s speech also isn’t all that seems. In a role reversal, Thor how Loki thinks, and he knows Loki thinks he’s stupid, too stupid to manipulate him, or to know when he’s being manipulated. He carefully constructs his speech and responses in the elevator to push all of Loki’s little brother buttons (this coming from an older sibling with experience in this area).

Thor begins by telling Loki flattering truth: that he idolized him and thought they’d be together forever. This inflates Loki’s ego, as he always wanted Thor to recognize him as an equal or superior. In the same moment, he realizes this is no longer the case due to his actions. Thor then alleviates some of the burden, inferring with “you’re you and I’m me” that their separation was inevitable. This and the paths diverging statement are both beliefs Loki has held, but never wanted Thor to have. He’s used to his brother chasing him. In order to reinstate this status quo, Loki says “it’s probably for the best that we never see each other again.” He expects Thor to protest here. After all, Thor has crossed galaxies, fought armies, risked death to be with his delinquent brother. Thor doesn’t deny or affirm Loki’s statement, but responds with the piece de resistance: “It’s what you’ve always wanted.”

This is the ultimate challenge to Loki. First of all, Thor is presuming to know what he wants, which Loki doesn’t think Thor can know about him, which makes Loki rethink what he actually wants. His gut reaction is to rebel, to say “don’t tell me what I want!” but that would mean he actually wants to stay with his brother, to be a family. Is that what he wants? Maybe. Now that Thor accepts the idea of their separation, maybe being a constant thorn in his side isn’t a bad prospect. All this, of course, ends up being a distraction so Thor can put the shocker on Loki’s back, but that it distracted Loki at all is telling. In reality, Thor didn’t agree they should become strangers, but he knew framing it that way would make Loki consider becoming his brother again. And that’s sibling love right there.

Immediately after this heart to heart, Loki pulls another Loki and tries to betray Thor. Thor doesn’t even hold it against him anymore: he just thwarts his brother and carries on. Perhaps he knows Loki will show up when he’s most needed later.

He’s right, of course. And when he does show up on Asgard, he does so in typical Loki fashion: in a cry for attention. But that’s who Loki is: selfish, murderous, short-sighted, but sensitive and seeking acceptance. Thor has now accepted Loki for who he is, and Loki isn’t about to lose that. Not only does he go along with Thor’s plan for Asgard (and revels in his brother’s recklessness), but he recognizes Thor’s kingship for the first time. That moment when Loki looks up from the final battle to see Thor embracing his true power, and that pride on his face… oh, my heart!

If I were writing the continuation of Thor and Loki’s relationship, I would never give Loki a redemption arc. Loki is the god of mischief. Instead, I would make him a part-time ally, but only with Thor. He doesn’t do anything selfless unless he knows Thor would be disappointed if he didn’t. He still plays tricks on his brother and the Avengers, but he no longer commits major crimes in their jurisdiction. Loki is at his mildest when bantering with Thor, and at his fiercest when Thor’s life is threatened. This is all selfish, though: without Thor, no one would accept him or be his equal. Thor knows all this, and is resigned and secretly flattered. He takes their relationship from day to day, enjoying fighting side-by-side again.

After Infinity War, though, (God willing they both survive) I think Loki would strike out on his own for a little while, in search of what would make him “more than a god of mischief.” Because he sees his brother’s progression, and like a little brother, he wants to keep up.

PS I know I focused a lot on Loki in this essay. This was unintentional, but happened because Loki’s development as a character is more dependent on Thor than Thor’s is on Loki. Thor’s changes center more around Odin, Frigga, and Jane, and the loss of said people. However, I wasn’t writing about their separate development in this essay, but the progression of their brotherly relationship. I hope I succeeded.

PPS In lieu of the new “news” about Loki being on Thanos’s team, I have heard multiple theories, and here’s what I like:

Anything involving Loki being mind-controlled. It prevents the whole “Loki, again?!” reaction, and provides lots of nice conflict.

Loki being forced against his will in some other way.

I will say this: they better not kill Loki off, because that’s also cliche at this point. They should kill Thor, and have Loki go ballistic. And then bring Thor back in some later film. Because, once again, Loki isn’t himself without Thor, and Thor isn’t a hero without Loki.

#thor #loki #thor odinson #loki laufeyson #thor: ragnarok #thor: the dark world #marvel #infinity war #character development #opinion #essay

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parchment-and-petrichor · 7 years

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Look, publishing community. We need to talk.

About ten years ago, you let the Twilight series take over the world, and with it, naive young girls’ belief that overly protective stalker boyfriends were something to strive for. Since the series’ completion, readers and moviegoers alike have vowed to do better. We hoped to put these toxic ideals behind us with every conversation we had about the problematic nature of Stephenie Meyer’s books. We hoped in doing so, we could finally move forward to read and support more wholesome, meaningful content.

Yet somehow, you chose to invest your money in Sarah J. Maas, and unleashed a whole new, far worse beast upon the world.

Why are we still letting toxic romances dominate the YA genre? Have we learned nothing from the likes of Meyer at all?

Let’s take a step back for a moment. As with her first series, Throne of Glass, Sarah J. Maas set out to write another fairy tale retelling in her latest A Court of Thorns and Roses series. By the time Mist and Fury begins, we’ve all but cast the Beauty and the Beast pretence to the wind. In perhaps the most dull first third of any novel, Feyre is suffering extreme depression and PTSD following the trauma incurred at Amarantha’s wrath. I am wholeheartedly here for portrayals of PTSD in YA. In fact, I encourage it. And given how much of a non-entity it is in Throne of Glass following Celaena’s pre-series traumas, this almost seems like an improvement on Maas’ part. But not when it goes on and on and on for 200 pages. Reading about any protagonist moping in self-pity is a 50-page deal at most. I get we’re supposed to see Feyre’s lack of self-worth at the start of this novel. I get that her trajectory is clearly one of her realising her value and gaining empowerment. Fine. But you can tell that story in 150 less pages. Believe me, as someone who has opened a novel with significant scenes of abuse and trauma, I know what it means to cut back. It pays to trust your reader and rein it in sometimes.

Which comes to one of the most blatant transgressions Maas commits: her lack of editing. Sure, at this point, she’s kind of well-known for her signature long sequels. But larger word counts do not good writing make. This novel could have easily been a solid 400 pages without the faffing about she does in the beginning.

There are some books that really excel in being split into distinct acts. Separating segments via setting or plot shifts can really solidify the narrative, but Maas’ acts can be separated out according to isolated moments sliding along a scale of boring, great, horrifying, and dire. Which is not what you want out of a narrative arc.

I actually thoroughly enjoyed the middle of this novel. For 200 pages, it seems like Maas has begun to atone for all her grievous harm done in her previous works. She introduces some interesting female characters for Feyre to befriend. The friend dynamic of Rhysand’s council is easily one of the strengths of the series and I wish she could have introduced them by the end of the first book. Amren in particular is a fascinating character, who, for a hot second, seems like she might kick some ass in a dark, ruthless, gory kind of way. She and Feyre have a great scene where they’re given permission to go out on a mission and be badass. I was excited to see where this would go and I looked forward to seeing these new battle sisters doing some serious damage together. Unfortunately, there are once more, long interludes where Amren keeps herself locked up, decoding things while the others go out and do the exciting stuff. Until the climax of the novel, the best, most dynamic addition to the cast has been shafted. As are all of the female characters in this series.

Here’s the thing.

For the most part, I like the girls in this book. At face value, they’re great. Nesta, Amren, Mor, and Feyre could all hold their own in battle as easily as they could all have a slumber-party style ki-ki over wine together. But the patriarchal world they’re placed in does no favours for them. Maas’ faerie world is build up by patriarchal traditions, where the men are led by their territorial, violent animal instincts:

“What’s normal?” I said.

… “The … frenzy … When a couple accepts the mating bond, it’s … overwhelming. Again, harkening back to the beasts we once were. Probably something about ensuring the female is impregnated. … Some couples don’t leave the house for a week. Males get so volatile that it can be dangerous for them to be in public, anyway. I’ve seen males of reason and education shatter a room because another male looked too long in their mate’s direction too soon after they’ve been mated.”

This hyper-masculine tradition also happens to heavily feature treating women like commodities they can use and throw away whenever they like. Rhysand, a character Maas tries so hard to pass off as a celebrated feminist, even tells Feyre in the heat of passion that, “I want you splayed out on the table like my own personal feast”. Every single one of Maas’ male characters, including, and especially Rhys, is a product of this tradition. But instead of engaging with commentary about how toxic such a worldview is, Maas just lets her characters carry on in this reality without consequence, self-awareness, or rebellion against it, as can be seen by Rhys’ explanation of women’s place in the kitchen, and Feyre’s subsequent acquiescence to that role as Rhys' partner:

“It’s an … important moment when a female offers her mate food. It goes back to whatever beasts we were a long, long time ago. But it still matters. The first time matters. Some mated pairs will make an occasion of it– throwing a party just so the female can formally offer her mate food … But it means that the female … accepts the bond.”

This old-fashioned, dare I say, archaic misogynistic ideal is just treated as the norm, effectively cementing every other male fantasy writer’s depiction of patriarchal societies as the ultimate world-building feature of the genre.

I don’t know what Maas is thinking, but whatever it is, it’s not cute.

Why are we still putting fantasies set in patriarchal worlds on such a high pedestal? It’s fantasy! What’s more, it’s 2017! You can’t tell me it’s more realistic to write a patriarchal society than literally any other kind in a fantasy world. When Maas, a woman writer creating her own world from scratch, has the chance to do whatever she wants, this is what she gives us?

One of the most horrifying scenes in A Court of Thorns and Roses (which is also shockingly overlooked) is Rhysand drugging Feyre and turning her into his slave whore without her consent. Maas sweeps this under the rug with a quick explanation that is all justified to a.) save Rhys’ fearsome reputation among the other realms, and b.) protect Feyre from the horrors of Amarantha’s kingdom. Just when I thought this particular plot was given its much needed closure (shut it down, Sarah. Shut it down right now!), the slave whore plot rears its ugly head again:

“I had heard the rumours, and I didn’t quite believe him.” [Keir’s] gaze settled on me, on my breasts, peaked through the folds of my dress, of my legs, spread wider than they’d been minutes before, and Rhys’ hand in dangerous territory. “But it seems true: Tamlin’s pet is now owned by another master.”

“You should see how I make her beg,” Rhys murmured, nudging my neck with his nose.

Keir clasped his hands behind his back. “I assume you brought her to make a statement.”

“You know everything I do is a statement.”

The only difference is, Feyre’s aware and consenting this time. Still, the skimpy dress and incredibly graphic touching on Rhys’ part all in the name of creating a diversion isn’t good enough to justify his actions. Rhysand’s created a thinly-veiled excuse to once again, objectify Feyre, touch her inappropriately in front of everyone, and lay claim to her when she’s not his to claim:

“Try not to let it go to your head.”

…I … said with midnight smoothness, “What?”

Rhys’ breath caressed my ear, the twin to the breath he’d brushed against it merely an hour ago in the skies. “That every male in here is contemplating what they’d be willing to give up in order to get that pretty, red mouth of yours on them.”

…His hand slid higher up my thigh, the proprietary touch of a male who knew he owned someone body and soul.

His eyes on the Steward, Rhys made vague nods every now and then. While his fingers continued their slow, steady stroking on my thighs, rising higher with every pass.

People were watching. Even as they drank and ate, even as some danced in small circles, people were watching. I was sitting in his lap, his own personal plaything, his every touch visible to them.

This isn’t romantic, this isn’t sexy, and it’s straight up not okay!

At what point did this series just turn into a horrific Princes Leia/Jabba the Hut smutfic? I know the only ones imagining what it might’ve been like had Leia been chained to Sexy McSexMachine instead of a giant blob are usually the pervy weirdos. Meaning no one in their right minds would want that mental image. Absolutely no one. In fact, the moment that image popped into my head, the final implosion of Rhys and Feyre’s sexual tension was made all the more cringe-worthy. There’s a reason Carrie Fisher spoke so strongly against Jabba and the gold bikini. She knew what it meant to be objectified, something Maas does not succeed in exploiting with Rhys’ choice to put Feyre in these skimpy outfits not once, but twice in this series. While yes, putting her in these outfits is ultimately a con-game, why should he be lauded for still playing by patriarchal rules in the first place? Shouldn’t the correct course of action be to break down those gender barriers?

All I have left to say about that is, I’m sorry, Sarah. You wrote that Leia/Jabba fanfiction. You made your bed. Now lie in it.

I suppose it’s about time to address the elephant in the room: Rhys. Oh boy… I don’t know how someone can pull together a character’s development so offensively, but Maas somehow wins the prize. He spends the entire first book as a lackey to the villain, doing the best he can to humiliate and emotionally manipulate Feyre. Now, we’re expected to believe he’s not only Feyre’s true love (oh, sorry… mate), but a feminist icon? I’m sorry. No. Did we already forget that he drugged her and made her dance for him in Leia’s gold bikini? It happened. I’m not about to let people forget it…

Readers fall all over themselves over him for coming to Feyre’s rescue when she begs to be saved from her wedding to Tamlin. On the surface, he’s set up to directly juxtapose Tamlin’s controlling over-protectiveness by letting Feyre do whatever she likes. Yet there’s still an unhealthy amount of Rhys manipulating situations in order to do what he feels is best for her. Not what Feyre thinks is best for herself, but what he thinks is best. Every single decision Feyre makes is based on Rhys’ influence. Nothing she does is for herself. By making Rhysand’s word law, Maas effectively strips Feyre of her agency, ironically, the one thing Rhys has attempted to help her regain in the first place.

What’s more, I don’t know who any of these characters are outside of their relation to Rhysand. They all revolve around him, because in Maas’ paraphrased words, he’s the most beautiful, powerful, strongest male in the kingdom. I honestly don’t need this overcompensation to make up for how toxic he is as a person. Not to mention, his male friends are nothing but carbon copies of him. Cassian and Azriel share his colouring and Ilyrian wings. I’ve seen plenty of fanart out there depicting the full cast of characters and I can never tell one male character from the another, nor one female character from another. The men (Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand) are handsome and dark haired, the women (Feyre, Nesta, Elain, and Mor), beautiful and blonde. Again, the only stand-out is Amren, who is woefully underrepresented and poorly used in the novel. When you have a white cookie cutter template for every character in your patriarchal world, you’ve gotta step outside your box to deliver some diversity at some point. Otherwise, everything’s just vanilla with a side of racism.

If you think Rhys is the only male character abusing women in this novel, you would be dead wrong. Every single female character in this series has an honestly triggering backstory involving rape, whether emotional or physical. This novel is undoubtedly the sort of thing that should come with a warning. I’ve seen copies with warnings that the series is not suitable for young readers on the back cover, but it’s both irresponsible to then market it as YA, and not discuss rape and abuse responsibly. In fact, given how frequently Maas uses the rape card and how non-existent any discourse concerning the consequences is, I’d say this is a dire case of romanticising rape. And I’m tired of seeing readers obsessing over series like these en masse. It's doing nothing but perpetuating rape culture.

Mor in particular has a brutal rape backstory. This is made all the more upsetting by how eager her father is to sell her off to the highest bidder, and her desperation to lose her virginity on her own terms:

“I wanted Cassian to be the one who did it. I wanted to choose … Rhys came back the next morning, and when he learned what had happened … He and Cassian … I’ve never seen them fight like that. Hopefully I never will again.I know Rhys wasn’t pissed about my virginity, but rather the danger that losing it had put me in. Azriel was even angrier about it–though he let Rhys do the walloping. They knew what my family would do for debasing myself.”

“I wanted my first time to be with one of the legendary Illyrian warriors. I wanted to lie with the greatest of Illyrian warriors, actually. And I’d taken one look at Cassian and known. … He just wants what he can’t have, and it’s irritated him for centuries that I walked away and never looked back.”

“Oh, it drives him insane,” Rhys said from behind me.

What’s worrying here is that while the men are praised for playing the patriarchal system to protect their women, female characters like Mor aren’t shown the same respect for protecting themselves. Mor’s entire character arc is punishment for her female sexuality, kept completely out of her control. Not once does a female character speak out against her sexual abuse, nor do they seek justice for it.

In a recent interview, Maas has stated that she only writes sex scenes if they further the plot. When literally everyone’s backstory hinges on sex, whether consensual or otherwise, I find that doubtful. If there’s one positive thing i’ll say about Maas, it’s that i’m glad she’s leading the charge for sex-positive female characters. But empowering are these characters really, when they’re defined by their desirability to men and their past sexual traumas? Sure, Feyre has sexual agency, but what else does she have? Especially in a patriarchal world where this is expected of her, and she doesn’t even use this “power” to her advantage…

Look, I’m glad Feyre’s getting pleasured the way she wants it, when she wants it, and the detailed depiction of her sexual stimulation might help girls become more aware of their own bodies and sexuality. But when this is the highest profile series featuring female sexuality in the YA market right now, what kind of example are we really setting here?

Feminism doesn’t begin and end with sexual expression. It’s more than that and Maas’ characters have to join that fight. Especially given it’s one of the highest selling fantasy series in the market right now. Sarah J. Maas is not the feminist role model we need for this generation of girls.

We need more than this.

In short, I’m absolutely shocked and appalled that so many people blindly gave this book 4 and 5 stars. Even those who acknowledge how problematic Maas’ writing is. Is it really worth overlooking blatant normalised rape culture to call something your favourite series? As I said from the outset, we’ve already been there with Twilight. An entire generation of girls fell head over heels for Edward Cullen, a 100+ year old stalker who dictated Bella Swan’s ever action and motivation. Now, here we are again, encouraging a new generation of teens to swoon over this sexy, emotionally manipulative product of rape culture, without any acknowledgement of the consequences.

We need to do better. Starting with readers. Starting with authors. Starting with publishers.

It’s time to hold ourselves accountable for the content we praise and allow kids to read. Because toxic masculinity and rape culture are not values to uphold. We live in a world where the President of the United States can brag about grabbing women by the pussy without recourse. Where old, white men are constantly dictating women’s reproductive rights. Where women are catcalled in the streets and victim blamed for the clothes they wear. Where girls can’t even go out at night on their own without the threat of sexual assault.

Is this really what we want to teach our daughters, sisters, students, friends? That it’s okay, to allow passing men to objectify us, just because they have power over us?

Listen, girls. This is the thing: men have power over us so long as we give it to them. So long as we keep laying down and accepting that we’re weak and in need of defending, they’ll keep doing it. And people like Sarah J. Maas will keep holding to those gender expectations. They’ll keep defining romantic ideals based on hyper-masculine overprotective, possessive men.

It’s up to us to redefine romantic ideals. To tear down toxic masculinity and uplift healthy, equal relationships based on mutual respect.

Because you’re worth so much more than that. You deserve better than Rhysand. Align yourself with people who value you for who you are and not just your body. Listen to them when they praise you for your talents. Accept their recommendations when they stumble across media showcasing aspirational women rising above the status quo. You are more than just an object holding a man’s attention. You are yourself and you deserve the world.

Look beyond the smokescreen of Sarah J. Maas’ works and aspire to be something more.

#sarah j. maas #acotar #acomaf #anti-acotar #anti-maas #fantasy #feminism #YA #young adult #toxic masculinity #female sexuality #rape culture

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dreamersscape · 7 years

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Making Sense of S4 Jasper

This is just me trying to sort out all the bits of info we’ve gotten of Jasper in season 4, because almost all of it has either been very foreboding sounding or surprisingly positive. It’s entirely possible that what we’ll see onscreen won’t be nearly so contradictory–certainly I don’t expect most, if any, character storylines this season will be either All Doom and Gloom or Everything is Sunshine and Puppies–but right now, with just under a week left before 4x01 premieres, what we know about Jasper presents an interesting puzzle.

The Good:

We ended last season with a positive, Jasper not committing suicide and the tacit promise from the writers Monty that he and Jasper ‘will be happy again’.

In the only snippet of him in the trailer, he’s smiling and telling Clarke he wants to live (okay so this goes in the not-so good column too due to context reasons)

One of the people who received the first 3 episodes early as press screeners has teased that there are multiple upbeat/happy Jasper scenes in them

Apparently there’s even a scene where he sings

The third iteration of the Jonty high-five from a preview

Chris Larkin is on record as saying at Unity Days that he’s never felt more hopeful about Jasper ‘n’ Monty than this season.

The Bad:

It feels like we’re sorta back at square one in that although they decided not to go with the ending of season 3 where Jasper kills himself, he is pointing a gun at himself in the PS4 season preview. Don’t get me wrong, I very much do not want Jasper to be magically alright all of a sudden, but it does feel slightly stagnant character-wise given that I think it’s likely this footage is from 4x01 and we also had a clearly suicidal Jasper back in 3x01 as well and his experiences last season up until he took the chip seemed to be building away from that.

In the first S4 trailer, he’s smiling while holding up a cup (presumably filled with alcohol of some sort) and it’s implied that Jasper wanting them to live while they can is meant in a nihilistic/hedonistic/possibly self-destructive way. I’m afraid that this happy-go-lucky Jasper we’re supposed to see in the first 3 episodes is basically just a false cheer facade covering up a boy who still does not believe his life has any worth (which at the very least was confirmed to be the case in the 3x11 script). And while I realize that Jasper’s enjoyment of Monty’s Moonshine has been a thing right from the start, it makes me really sad to see him drinking again. Abuse of alcohol can really exacerbate the symptoms of PTSD.

Lack of presence in main trailer/scenes outside of Arkadia. Devon’s hinting of very little screen time for his character. (I don’t want to judge prematurely, but if this does prove true, I won’t be able to help but wonder why you would decide to keep Jasper alive and than not take advantage of all his character’s potential!)

Devon’s hinting at no longer being employed on the show; no indication that I know of that he’s filmed since 4x11 (titled “The Other Side” which might be in reference to Jasper’s repeated use of “See you on the other side.”). I’m not on twitter enough to ever catch Devon’s tweets that he subsequently deletes, so I can’t say this definitely, but it’s worth noting that his bitterness seems to have been confined to that week in December when the first S4 trailer was released. It’s hard to tell if his question about the S4 poster was posed sarcasticly or from genuine befuddlement.

And I should probably add Jasper’s depiction on the S4 poster on here too, because really, did they even try?

Okay, so coming off that list of negative signs, it might sound like I am rather pessimistic about Jasper’s chances of survival and quality of involvment in this upcoming season, and if you’ve seen my blog over the past month, you’ll know that I have admittedly been despairing on this subject. But I’ve actually reached this point of mingled denial & acceptance where there’s just enough of a glimmer of hope that I can go into this season ready to enjoy any good bits of Jasper we get without living under the cloud of terror I had dogging my heels for pretty much the entirety of last season. Mostly because I just flat out refuse to go through that again. Thankfully, I’m relatively sure I can watch terror-free until 4x11–at that point I’ll probably coIllapse in a panic again. *laughs sheepishly*

I really hope that if 4x11 is Jasper’s final episode, they’ll build up to it properly; that any “hero’s death” he may be given doesn’t come out of the blue with his having virtually disappeared for several episodes prior or anything like that. Jasper’s death is gonna be awful for me under any circumstance. A part of me is always going to feel cheated if Jasper’s ending in the show is not that he finds out the ground is survivable despite everything’s he’s been through. I know that’s not a fair standard to hold the show to; his character shouldn’t be essentially invulnerable just because he was spared at the end of 3x16 (and the time(s) before that). But I also hope, as I mentioned up above, they don’t allow Monty’s promise “[They’ll] be happy again” to ring hollow ultimately.

Anyway, I never got back around to weighing the overall tone of Jasper’s storyline this season. I could see it going either way. It’s just interesting that you could come to both conclusions based on how you interpret what we know from the preview material and other related indications. Sorry if you’re disappointed by my ramblings. I realize how unpolished this whole post is. I do want to say here thank you to @metastation and Robin, Brittany, and Sam for answering my Jasper questions on the latest podcast. I was very much relating to you, Claire, when they were teasing you about your Kane love, because I always feel very self-conscious about how often I bring up Jasper when I’m discussing the show. And while I knew you all would treat my questions as fairly as any others, I still felt really conflicted and anxious about submitting them, because there doesn’t appear to be a high percentage of the fandom that finds him as interesting to discuss as I or other Jasper fans do. Thank you all for sharing your Unity Days experiences, I can only imagine what a blast it was to be there considering how fun it was to hear about it. :)

#random musings of a personal nature #jasper jordan #the 100 spoilers

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