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kaylinalexanderbooks · 3 months

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OC questionnaire

Thanks to @elsie-writes here, here, and here, @illarian-rambling here and here, @willtheweaver here, @ceph-the-ghost-writer here, and @mysticstarlightduck here!

I've somehow been tagged more than this somehow, but this post is so long I've decided to cut it off here.

Rules: answer the questions as an OC, then leave three new questions for the people you tag!

Past questionnaires: masterpost for round one

Tagging @mk-writes-stuff @elsie-writes @katwritesshit @rickie-the-storyteller @cherrybombfangirlwrites

+ ANYONE ELSE

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites

I have done all TSP characters I can answer for. Everyone else is not important enough for me to leave a response. SOTL doesn't have enough yet.

Under the cut: Tyler, Gwen, Liam, Noelle, Akash, Robbie, Sam, Ewan

#1- Tyler

Who is the most memorable person you've ever seen? Why are they so memorable?

“One guy I met a few years ago, Anathi. He was interesting. A little, uh, repressed due to having never really interacted with anyone for three years. Um. He was an ultimate, but like way taller than average, so also physically memorable. Haven't seen him in years though. So, anyway, did you know the human mind can never forget a face? And it also can't make up one, either. So, if you see someone you don't know in your dream, you have to have seen them on the street at some point!”

What stresses you out most?

“Stupid and lazy and incompetent people in charge. Like, who gave that idiot so much power? A bigger idiot??? So an even bigger idiot has even more power. Awesome. Fantastic. It sucks.”

What is your favorite holiday?

“Halloween. It is fun to dress up as whatever I want. And plan a decent costume with makeup. It also pisses off Medina. And Dr. Asghar. Those are always fun.”

Other Tyler: questionnaire one, two truths and a lie

#2- Gwen

What is the most important thing someone can receive?

“Love, friendship, support, compassion.... I think I will go with support. Support in all areas of your life I find important.”

What was your favorite age of your life?

“I like being twelve. But I miss being six. When my grandfather would read to me.”

How do you like your coffee (or tea)?

“Preferably, not at the same time! Haha. ... Did I tell you about that? Yeah, I accidentally made my coffee with a tea bag. It...was surprising, for sure. Awful, but I couldn't stop drinking it. May make it intentionally again. I usually just take my coffee with sweet cream.”

Other Gwen: OC in three, OC in fifteen, picrew, kiss, two truths and a lie, questionnaire one, OC interview

#3- Liam

What's your go-to beverage?

“Water. And I'm not saying that to be boring. It's just objectively the best beverage. It keeps you healthy, hydrated. Why waste money on carbonated garbage? Everyone should be drinking water. It does nothing but help you. Except people who are allergic to water, but that is an incredibly rare condition.”

What's the stupidest argument you've ever gotten into?

“There is literally no such thing as a stupid argument. However, I did get punched in the face when I lectured this one kid about how landings didn't count as steps. Of course, they do, but I thought it would be funny if I tried to convince him they did not. Apparently I pissed him off.”

How do you act when you're over-tired?

“I become more easy to distract. Overwhelmed, maybe anxiety. More reserved. I also start noticing my mistakes more. I also keep thinking I'm sick. That's much better than some. Think about it: I could be yelling and screaming at everyone. I could become an evil dictator. But I don't. I just affect me, and in the end, that's much better.”

Other Liam: questionnaire one, interview

What would you do if you found someone's wallet and ID on the floor with no one in sight?

#4- Noelle

“I would look at the ID and figure out a way to give it back to the person who lost it. Depending on where I am, I'd give it to proper authorities. At school, the front office. Police if I'm out. If all else fails, I suppose I could ask Lexi to teleport me to them.”

Can you swim?

“Of course I can. It doesn't make sense not to learn. My mom taught me when I was really young.”

If you were an animal, what would you be?

“What a stupid hypothetical question. I'm not a shapeshifter. *Sigh* Okay, fine, I'll try. Um... Owls represent intelligence so maybe that? I think I'm smart. Wolves are loyal to their family. I'd call myself that.”

Other Noelle: OC in three, OC in fifteen, Picrew, Bingo, questionnaire one

#5- Akash

What is your idea of a romantic date?

“Oh, man. Everything! Dinner and a movie. Holding hands as we walk through an art exhibit. Strolling or hiking through nature. The classic stuff! That reminds me... I need to plan something for Gwen... A bit nervous to ask her out, to be honest, but Robbie says she won't mind what we do as long as we're together. I dunno, man, first dates seem so crucial to get right.”

Can you be trusted to keep a secret?

“Yes. [Pause] I mean, I've kept my own, so I'd completely understand, and would respect your wishes. But just so you know, I hate lying. Despite doing it. But I fixed it! So yes, I can, but I'll hate every second of it. Although it will not make me feel guilty like it was when it was mine! But uh... Don't ask me to keep it from Robbie... Y'know what? Don't tell me. Sorry.”

What is one thing that makes your blood boil?

“Well, uh... I hate not getting respect. It's not like I think I'm entitled to it, but... I do still want it. People with no compassion for each other, it... It pisses me off a little. I hate seeing it.”

Other Akash: OC in three, OC in fifteen, Picrew, kiss, questionnaire one, two truths and a lie

#6- Robbie

Which weirdly specific superpower would you prefer: ability to cook eggs in any manner and have them turn out perfectly, or ability to always recommend a piece of media someone else will enjoy?

“Eggs. Gonna be honest, I almost want the second one, but I can already do that! I have excellent tastes. Although maybe that is, like, a superpower or something and it would go away when I get the eggs power. Hm. Eggs because I genuinely also want to help my mom out in the kitchen. I mean, I can already make eggs, but I get overwhelmed most of the time, so I stick to scrambled just so I know I'm doing it right. So yeah, eggs. If my media powers go away, I don't care, because I'll still love my stupid cartoons.”

Most awkward conversation you've ever had?

“Oh, God. Why. Why must you make me remember this?? Sooo I had this playhouse I went to as a kid. One of my friends there was this girl Ava. We went to that playhouse for years! And one day, she came to my seventh grade play on The Secret Garden. I was hanging with Akash and another kid in the play, Bryan. Ava comes up to us after the play to congratulate me and say hi. And then I said, 'Bryan, let me introduce you to my old friend...' and then I blanked for a solid 17 seconds on her name. It was awful. I said, 'Ava' at the same time Akash did to cover for me. It was... So bad. I tried to pass it off as me being overly dramatic with a pause and that I wanted Akash to say her name at the same time. But. I think she knew.”

How accurate do you think your zodiac sign is?

“Apparently, I'm a Taurus. And according to Google... This is literally not me at all. Like, it says I'm super sensual and grounded. [Pause] Me. Sensual and grounded! What even?!”

Other Robbie: OC in fifteen, OC in three, Picrew, two truths and a lie, questionnaire one

#7- Sam

What is your favorite drink?

“Ooh, lemonade! I love lemonade!! I always wanted to have a lemonade stand actually. I like all kinds of lemonade. Canned or homemade or whatever!! I usually have a can after dance class.”

Do you know how to dance?

“I do! I'm in a class that I go to weekly! We do ballet and tap dancing. It's so fun! I could dance all day long!”

What would make you never forgive someone?

“I'm not sure. I like moving on and pretending the bad stuff didn't happen. But I guess... If a friend did something awful to another.”

Other Sam: questionnaire one

#8- Ewan

What is your favorite small nature item? Pinecones, rocks, leaves, seashells?

“I like rocks. I have a rock collection. I think it's pretty cool.”

Do you have a go-to or favorite idiom?

“Huh. I've literally never thought of this before. I guess I like 'cross the bridge when we get there.' It's kind of a mantra for me. Worrying about the future, y'know? I don't like waiting until we get there to cross the bridge. I want to be prepared to cross the bridge. At the same time... I'm bad at preparing cause I'm not proactive. So I use the idiom to get out of the stuff I don't want to do now. I have a complicated relationship with this idiom....”

What is your favorite fruit?

“No, don't make me choose!! I guess... Cantaloupe. You probably weren't expecting that.”

Other Ewan: questionnaire one, kiss

Your questions:

What's the last thing you replaced, and why did you have to replace it?

Where's a place you've been that you felt out of place?

Do you trust your instincts?

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thepodcasthoard · 8 months

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How to Start a Podcast

Part 1

The second article Sydney kindly gave me is How to Start a Podcast by buzzsprout. Buzzsprout is also a hosting site, which you need when you start a podcast, so they have to know their stuff (according to the article, since 2009 they've helped three hundred thousand podcasts launch, which is impressive).

Buzzsprout breaks the process into ten actionable steps.

Develop a concept.

Define goals

Pick a theme/topic (they provide a whopping seventy-five in this article linked)

Find a niche

Name it (they have provided this article for further reading)

2. Choose a format

I didn't think about this before I read this article, but there are different ways to present podcasts- the article mentions interview, cohosted, scripted non-fiction, news, educational, and scripted fiction (and I will provide audio drama help as I conduct my own research and get information from podcasters about it).

The article goes over the 'optimal' podcast episode length, with some statistics, but the only thing that seems to be important they put in the first sentence: "Make your episodes as long as they need to be and no longer."

They also talk about an episode release schedule, with more stats.

3. Set up recording equipment

Of course they talk about microphones, including another article all about that aspect of podcasting, but apparently there are different types of microphones. I never knew that. They go somewhat in-depth about the different kinds, so I'll leave the technical reading to you.

4. Choose software

The article also talks about different software, from recording to editing. They give a few different options in the article, with links to each. I'm not sure if they get commissions based on how many people click through, so I'll leave you to go there to give them some love.

5. Record your first episode.

The article further breaks the process into smaller steps.

A) Write an outline (with further reading that includes templates)

B) Pick your recording room wisely

Before Sydney's post, I didn't know that sound travels different off of hard and soft surfaces, though I guess in retrospect I should have figured (echos in canyons, for example). I didn't realize it would make a big difference, but I guess it does.

C) Connect your equipment and set up your software

This is important- make sure you hit 'record' and everything's plugged in, folks.

D) Microphone technique

If you're going to speak into a microphone, learn to do it right.

E) Test different recording styles

Test for quality.

6. Edit

They provide an article for further reading. In the main article, they break it into broad steps.

A) Make sure the intro and outro are engaging

Hook the listener right away.

B) Edit for content, then everything else.

Start with big cuts, then move smaller.

C) Fade between tracks

Apparently, cutting audio can sometimes make clicks and pops in the recording. Who knew?

D) Create a punch list

I guess this is a to-do list.

Then when all that's done, you export it! They throw a bit of technical jargon at you (what the heck is an ID3 tag?) but thankfully, it seems to be fairly simple with this podcasting host site. I'm not sponsored by them, it just seems easy enough for beginners.

7. Create podcast artwork.

They also include five tips for that.

A) Visually communicate the subject

B) Design for a variety of sizes

C) Don't use too many words or fonts

D) Avoid 'podcast imagery' (microphones, for example)

E) Keep your brand consistent

They provide a few sites for people to create artwork, so that's cool.

8. Set up podcast hosting

To be honest, this confused the Hell out of me. But there are a few videos about it they linked at the end of the step, so feel free to read the full article and watch them.

9. Get listed in podcast directories

More technical stuff, but I guess that you need the last step- hosting- to actually get onto Spotify or Apple podcasts or any other site/app.

10. Launch and grow

The article goes over two ways to launch- grand and soft- and a few other things like imposter syndrome. It talks about seven marketing tips.

A) Tell friends and family

B) Create a buzzsprout ad

C) Post episodes on social media

D) Join groups and forums

E) Cross-promote with other podcasters

F) Overcast ads

G) Create a call to action

The article also recommends celebrating, and I'm always down for a celebration. Don't be embarrassed it's about your own achievements, or feel like it's needlessly self-congratulatory or self-centered. It seems like a ton of work, so give yourself some credit!

#podcast help #beginner podcaster

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gibbearish · 16 days

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"Am I Trans?" UQuiz Masterpost

hey there folks, my pinned was getting a bit unwieldy so i figured itd be prudent to set up this landing pad for uquiz visitors. this is not the FAQ, that is still in the works, this is just the intro stuff moved to its own post.

so, with all that out of the way, welcome! my asks and messages are currently OPEN and response times are SLOW. i will be updating this post on a regular basis, so if that says open then you can rest assured it is still current. or if it's not and i forgot to update it, that's on me, not you.

before anything else, i do just want to make it extremely, deeply, incredibly, achingly, transparently clear that i am not in any way a certified / licensed gender therapist. i do not have any training, nor is there an ethics board with which you can take up a complaint if i end up misreading things. i am simply a trans person on the internet who noticed a couple years ago that there were pretty much no "am i trans" quizzes that i could find that werent uhhh let's say unhelpful, and so i made my own, using my own feelings and experiences as a starting point. i may misread you, i may project myself or previous visitors onto you, i may get frustrated with you, i may be wrong about you. i ask that you try to give me grace, to remember that i am human, and to proceed at your own risk.

i take these conversations very seriously and want to be as thorough as possible, but that takes a good deal of work / effort / energy to do well, and as i am currently over a year into a massive depressive episode, that all compounds into long response times. which i do understand can be frustrating, feeling like you're waiting for someone's permission to be yourself (although if that is how it makes you feel, consider what that might say about the answer - i am not actually holding you back from anything by not responding. you can be trans, you don't need my permission or anyone else's. only your own), but i ask for patience, and that you please refrain from spamming me every time i come online. playing stardew valley is a lot less taxing than doing bootleg internet therapy. i haven't forgotten about you, i just havent found the right words yet.

in the meantime, i would recommend a quick scroll through my #uquibberish tag, which contains any asks from other uquiz visitors as well as posts i think are thematically relevant to a lot of these conversations. who knows, maybe you'll find that the answers you seek are very similar to the answers i've given another.

one thing to note is that asks do take a good deal less mental energy to respond to given the more one-and-done nature, so responses to those will likely be faster than for DMs, however i won't be able to get as personal (unless you give me a lot to work with, please do not feel self conscious about sending long asks/messages, they really are quite helpful in terms of giving me stuff to analyze). i also sometimes get a little silly with the ask responses, however i will still always make sure to include a real answer of some sort in the tags.

that all being said, i really do need to stress the fact that i am a real person you are talking to. i am not a gender therapy chatbot and i am not paid to do this. i do this because i want to help, but in order to do that successfully, i need your help as well. i do not know you as a person beyond the things that you tell me, and i am both unable and unwilling to simply assign you a new gender, to pluck your "true" gender out of your head. usually, all i really end up doing is pointing out what things are holding you back from the answer you already know. if you are unwilling to tell me anything about your thoughts and feelings, then i'm sorry, but i'm just. not going to be able to help you out very much. figuring out who you are is something that is difficult and takes a lot of introspection, and is something that you may even never actually get a solid answer on. the question you should be asking is not "what am i, really?" but "what do i want to be? what would it make me happy to be? how would i like to exist in my time on this earth?"

now, with all of that out of the way, i do also know that it can be difficult to know where to start, so here is a rough list of things that i've found helpful in the past. you do not need to provide any of these if you are not comfortable doing so, they are here exclusively to give ideas on where to start. now, with that out of the way:

- age range: to be clear, i do not need to know your exact age and you should always be wary of someone who asks for that. that being said, a general range can be pretty helpful for me to contextualize your message to your stage of life. like, think "middle school vs. high school vs. college or older" type general range.

- similarly, what country/state you live in, and if non-US, a bit about your local political climate vis a vis trans people. once again i do not want or need your exact location and you should be wary of those who try to get it from you, but for a lot of people, the main thing holding them back from transitioning is that the world simply isn't a safe place for trans people at the moment, so knowing if that is in play can be very helpful. I am a USAmerican and have a pretty good grasp of which way the states here tend to lean, and have a much rougher grasp on other countries. I don't want to go into this with some wildly propagandized version of your home in my head and would much prefer to get my information about it from you, the person being actively affected.

- your quiz answer and how it made you feel: with this one the important part is really the second part. i said this in the quiz itself but it bears repeating, i do not have any knowledge of how to properly weight the answers in a personality test, i assigned each answer a result (or multiple results) based entirely on vibes. that being said, if you are now having a lot of complicated feelings about your result, those feelings are the ones we're going to be examining. whether you've been having these feelings for a long time or they only just recently started, if you've been quizhopping searching for an answer (and if there's been a common denominator among those answers that you're avoiding looking in the eye), what the shape of those feelings are, that's the kind of thing we're going to be looking at. don't feel bad if you can't see the feelings themselves yet, this is an exercise in finding the negative space. the thing about facing the things you don't want to face is that you don't want to face them, which sounds obvious put like that, but like. you can't look straight at the sun without the right glasses. not without hurting yourself. the things your brain hides from you, takes away your ability to look at, are hidden for a reason, there is something that is scaring you, something you are defending against, a knot that must be unraveled before we can continue unwinding the thread. it's ok if all you can do for now is point to where the knot is.

- what name you used on the quiz and what day you took it: uquiz allows you to view individual quiz taker's results so if you are comfortable with it, i'm happy to take a peek through to see if there are any trends. as i write this the quiz is sitting at good god, 13000 takers, so if you keysmashed a name unfortunately it has probably been lost to the sands of time :( that being said...

- any questions / answers that hit especially hard: here is a link to a google doc where i've compiled all the questions and answers as reference, so this way if we can't find your quiz or you don't want to share the whole thing, we still have a pretty good starting point on which parts apply to you (side note, i also have a feedback form, however i couldnt think of very many specific questions to ask so just put in two textboxes for you to put your suggestions in)

- family dynamics: as with the country of origin question, something that can hold a lot of trans people back from transitioning is pressure from their family to. well. to not do that, so knowing if that is contributing can be very helpful

- friend dynamics: same as above, some people are held back by the potential reaction of their friendgroup, or alternatively are certain their friends would react positively but still can't shake that feeling, and figuring out if that fear is warranted can be a huge stepping stone in this.

that's all i have for now, though this post may be subject to changes as time goes on. as i said before i am also (slowly) working on a FAQ, so hopefully soon we'll have a way to bridge the response time gap. in the meantime, i hope this was helpful, and i do again highly recommend taking a look through the #uquibberish tag to see if any past questions/answers might apply to you as well. thanks!

(last edited 9/8/24)

#origibberish #uquibberish #/long post #long post #trans

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twilitty · 3 years

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Moonlit ch.1

This is the first chapter in my new fic Moonlit, it will be posted on Tumblr, ao3, and ffnet. New chapters uploaded every week and a half. Message/comment to be added to my tag list.

3k words

big thank you to my beta reader @effervescentlyirrevocable who has given me the absolute best criticism and helped make this chapter so beautiful :)

Bella moves to Forks Washington, her first week is uneventful. This fic has aged up characters, making them all at entry-college level ages.

Chapter One

My senses are sharper in Forks than they were in Phoenix, I’ve only been here a handful of days yet everything seemed brighter, louder, more alive than my past home. There was something here for me, something that made me feel more alert than I have in years.

The sound of heavy rain slowly pulls me out of my restless sleep, an elbow is thrown across my eyes in an attempt to keep the real world at bay. It’s always raining, the mist layering the ground never abandons its post, and the chilly air seemingly lasts indefinitely. The rainy town of Forks Washington sooner resembles my personal hell than it does a sleepy old town. The forest that borders the town at each cardinal point is layered in green moss, damp dirt, and an endless supply of fresh animal tracks. I’d moved to Forks only a week ago, the sum of which was spent unpacking dreadfully thin clothing and acquainting myself with the few stores and public access areas the town has to offer.

My father, Charlie, has had little to do with this process apart from moral support and the occasional bag of fast food that he’s picked up while on shift. Charlie is the town's police chief, a job that both seems ill-needed and also unbearably boring. How much crime can be committed in a town of fewer than ten thousand citizens? Other than the odd tag on a school building or bush party, what does his shift consist of? I have yet to bring my insulting opinions on his career to his attention, and likely will never do so. He’s a good man with a heart of gold and a passion for the judicial system, which is ever-present in his TV browsing as he cruises through endless episodes of Law & Order.

I’m not a big TV person, even back home in Phoenix, I preferred reading to the television. Perhaps this was related to my mother’s endless stack of yoga DVD’s that seemed to consume our viewing; her in a downward dog position gossiping about her latest advancements at her newest club membership, me sitting on the couch finishing a craft for her so she won’t be late submitting it. My favourite of her crafts was embroidery, one month I embroidered nearly two hundred dandelions on a pair of jeans for her. She gave them to the club administrator as an apology before she quit.

Regardless, at night when the TV is blaring the intro theme to a cop show, I am curled in bed with a book under my nose and headphones in my ears. Blocking out the rain is a full-time chore.

This morning is a particularly eventful morning, not because of any specific events, but rather the events that will be set into motion because of this morning. Today is the first day of my online college courses. I’m currently enrolled in an undeclared major. My hope is that the three courses I’m taking this spring term will help me decide on what I want to do in the future.

Charlie had given me a new laptop upon my arrival in Forks, a current model with modest upgrades to “enhance my academic experience”. Or at least that’s what the box boasted. I am not entirely convinced that a larger memory will miraculously cure me of my educational despise. High school was tortuous, I had few friends and fewer interests outside of my mother’s hobbies. I had no extra-curricular activities that were not synonymous with financial responsibilities. The monthly budget book was mine to care for, as was the constant, intrusive phone calls of the bank when my mother got too engaged in a store. She’s a gullible woman if nothing else. If a store clerk tells her a blouse suits her figure, she’ll purchase ten colours in the article along with two in a size lower just in case she finally loses the ten pounds she’s been trying to shed.

My eyes have barely opened, the down of my forearm just a fraction away from my pupil when Charlie pounds against my door. You’d imagine I was fostering a fugitive in here with the noise he’s making, but this is just the way my father is, loud noises and soft voices. I wonder, idly, if perhaps he has minor hearing loss from spending so much time around guns.

“I’m up!” I call out, my voice is thin and calloused with morning sleep. I clear my throat as the knocking cuts off, “Good morning, Dad.” Charlie doesn’t like me calling him Charlie.

“Morning, Bells,” he calls back through the door, quiet enough to not be taken as aggressive yet loud enough to sound authoritative. He is a father, my father, at heart. He pauses, and it’s as if I can hear the mental gears shifting in his mind. He hasn’t had to be a father since I was a baby, after that Renee was the parent. Charlie was the summer distraction. “Don’t be late for school.” I grunt a response, reaching for the alarm clock on my nightstand and groaning at the early hour of the morning. Barely eight, class doesn’t officially start until noon. I guess there’s nothing wrong with logging in early, although I’d much rather catch up on the sleep I’ve lost to the thunderous storms we’ve been experiencing recently.

As if he could sense my intentions, Charlie knocks against my door again. “Bella, I mean it. You didn’t come here to slack off, now.” No, I think nastily, I came here for peace and quiet.

Between unpacking my belongings and touring the town, I’ve developed a routine in my new living situation. Charlie is fond of my company, enjoying having a woman in the house outside of his ex-wife, my mother and ex-roommate. Although, his fondness of my presence does not directly translate to time spent together. He makes me breakfast, occasionally placing it in the oven to keep warm, and then immediately heads off to his family that is the Forks police station. We meet again for lunch, depending on our individual plans for the day, and then reunite again just in time for dinner. Food really is the great American pastime.

I dress in jeans and a light blue sweater that smells mysteriously of mildew although it’s a recent purchase and has yet to be worn outdoors. I suppose the rain permeates every available space, closed windows be damned. My socks are tall and I have to roll my jeans up at the bottoms to accommodate for the thick, high fabric of them. It’s a trick Charlie taught me for wearing rain boots, the higher the socks the less likely they are to run down to your toes as you walk. Immediately after that trick was taught I went to the nearest hiking store and purchased a pair of rain boots. My first pair of rain boots at nineteen years of age. Unfathomable yet ironic considering my lineage marks back to the wettest town in the continental US. My ancestors roll in their graves every time I step outdoors and forget a jacket or umbrella, I’m sure of it.

Charlie is waiting for me downstairs, both a surprise and unwelcome presence. I had a battered copy of Dorian Gray under my arm, I was expecting philosophy and moral ambiguity, not idle conversation. Before the chief notices my book, I slide it over the back of the couch and enter the kitchen with a polite smile. There’s bacon frying on the stovetop, the police chief is dressed in uniform already, but has a stained white apron tied around his neck. “Dad?”

“Oh,” he turns around and gives me a tight smile, “Excited for your big day?” You’d imagine it’s my first day of preschool with the amount of enthusiasm he’s trying to keep hidden from me, not my first day of online school. I don’t say anything to dampen his mood, I’m glad he’s excited about something. His life is repetitive, if my existence here proves to be no more useful than just disrupting his schedule, it will still be a success.

“Yeah, I guess.” He turns back to the bacon and shifts it around quickly, the grease snapping up at him. If it burns him he doesn’t show it, just maintains the stiff-backed posture of a respectable police officer cooking his daughter breakfast. “I’ve gotta ask, what’s up with the apron?” I stifle a giggle behind a bite of the toast that’s sitting in the middle of the small table. He shakes his head in faux annoyance.

Charlie takes the pan off the hot element, sliding the bacon onto two plates and pouring the grease into an open can. The second trick he taught me since arriving here: never pour grease down the drain.

“I’m in uniform, it would be disrespectful to the badge to stain it.” He slides a plate of bacon in front of me, sitting down in his designated seat across the table. “Besides,” he takes a sip of coffee from his to-go mug. “Can you imagine walking into a police station smelling of fried pig?”

Breakfast ends quickly. We each eat a piece of toast, Charlie stuffing a second piece into a plastic bag “for later” and heading out the door. I still have half a plate of bacon in front of me after he leaves, the maple glaze filling the small kitchen with its smell.

After my Mom and Charlie got married, Renee redecorated much of the house. Her lace curtains still hang in the master bedroom window, constantly drawn closed. The rest of the house has been minorly updated with age, the TV got bigger, the couch more comfortable, new bed linens and even newer rocking chairs on the porch. I had asked Charlie if they were Moms when I first came up to the house a week ago.

They were rocking gently in the wind, the wood seemed to be polished as it shined in what little light filtered through the depressive clouds. They were sitting side by side, matching pillows on them both, a coffee table in the middle with a stack of coasters. It was an old person's porch, where husband and wife would sit all grey and wrinkled, waving at the neighbourhood kids as the bus dropped them off from school. I could almost picture Charlie and Renee sitting there, her knitting a scarf and him content to just watch her and the scenery.

He informed me that they were relatively new, a purchase from a shop down on the Reservation. We haven’t spoken about them since, but I wonder if perhaps he wishes he had someone to sit out there with him.

I spend the morning before class doing odd chores around the house. It’s nice living at Charlie’s, nicer than I had expected it to be. I’m not a fan of the weather or the fact that I currently have no social life, but it’s nice to just sit. I throw my laundry in the wash and manage to get the kitchen cleaned up with just enough time left over to sit on the couch and read a chapter of my book before class.

School has never been my strong suit. That’s not to say I get poor marks or intentionally skip classes, I just never found it as fulfilling as my peers seemed to. I never woke up and looked forward to the social or academic aspect of high school. Perhaps this contributed to me postponing my college experience and only starting it now when I should already be a year into my program.

When I log into my schools online database and click on my first class, Social Psychology 1001, I’m immediately transported to a screen filled with windows and the faces of my classmates. “Hello, class!” The professor's voice calls out over my computer. Perhaps online school won’t be my strong suit either.

Class ends and the next one starts, and I get through all three classes and an hour's worth of homework by the time Charlie pops in for dinner.

“Hey, Bells,” He calls as he opens the front door. I can hear him from where I sit in the kitchen, hanging his gun belt up by the front door and kicking his boots off into a heap on the floor. I imagine Mom back in Phoenix, walking into the house with arms full of bags and tossing her flip flops onto her pile of shoes beside the coatrack she used for purses. Some things won’t ever change.

“How was work?” I ask. He pauses to poke his head into the kitchen, moustache moving as he chews on his lip. I can’t remember when Charlie initially grew out his moustache, just that one summer I arrived and thought could he look more like a cop?

“Good, good, just some meetings. New family moving into town, all foster kids around your age.” He takes pause, staring off into some middle ground in the hallway as if deep in thought. His eyebrows furrow, “Don’t want any trouble makers coming in, but the father seems nice. Respectable.”

“That’s nice,” I contribute conversationally. Charlie and I rarely have material conversations, always just idle talk of the weather or what's for dinner. I’m not entirely sure how to approach this topic, which clearly seems to be occupying his mind.

“Yeah, he’s a doctor.” He grins at this, toothy and a little crooked to the right side. A pang of embarrassment settles in my chest before he speaks, as if knowing where this will turn. “Perfect for you, considering how often your clumsiness-” I wave a hand over my face, grimacing at his words. “Don’t speak it into existence,” I mutter with a half-hearted plea underlying my words. He chuckles, disappearing up the stairs.

I hear the shower turn on after a few minutes of him fumbling around, presumably trying to get undressed. I’m sure once he’s showered and in sweatpants it’ll be twenty questions about my day of school. I’m not sure I have the heart to break the truth to him: it absolutely sucked.

The material was interesting enough, psychology has always been close to my heart. I loved the idea of people being more than their actions and thoughts, that there was something making them say that or something making them act that way. Perhaps this was yet another symptom of having Renee for a mother.

I sit at the kitchen table for a moment longer, my computer is closed in front of me and my pencil case- dreadfully unnecessary with school being online-sits closed and untouched. I haven’t made any friends in my classes, not that I had expected to. Twelve years of public school and no friend group to show for it, just a few texts every couple of weeks. Why would I have believed college, and an online college at that, would be any better?

Having enough with my thoughts, I get up from the table and pack my things into my bag. I’ve completed enough work for today, the rest of the evening I’ll spend either with Charlie or in my room. I’d rather not be nose deep in pdf textbooks and youtube videos constituting as follow-up lectures, I’ve had enough of that today. As if sensing the immediacy of my departure from the kitchen, the shower cuts off and I hear the bathroom door squeak open. For a man who, until recently, lived alone with too much free time, you’d imagine he’d have taken better care of the house. Nearly every door, except my own, creaks open and closed. I made sure to oil my hinges nearly immediately after moving in, I didn’t want Charlie to wake up every time I sneak downstairs for a comfort snack or warm glass of milk to help me sleep. He’s lived alone for nearly twenty years, he doesn’t need his sleep schedule disrupted now.

“The game is on in-” Charlie pauses as if double-checking the times mentally, “- an hour and a half. Are you interested?” He’s calling from up the stairs. I wonder if he truly wants me to watch the game with him, whatever sport it may be, or if he’s only being polite.

“Uh, I was just going to organize my room right now and then maybe make something for dinner,” I say in response. The floors don’t make a noise and I know he’s heard me, but he doesn’t respond. A lump forms in my throat, perhaps he really did want to watch with me.

“That’s fine, but if you want we can order in?” The lump passes and I convince myself that there is no reason to avoid the TV. It’s not like I’ll be a disruption, if I get bored I can read on the couch. I’ve only watched TV with Charlie on a few occasions since my move here, and each time I strategically saved my questions for the commercial breaks.

“Sure! That works.” The floorboards creak and I hear him retreat into his room, the door closing with a pitiful squeak.

We eat pizza on the couch, a large meat-lover for the carnivorous father and a small vegetarian with extra mushrooms for the daughter who cares about her cardiovascular health. We eat slowly, occasionally Charlie will make a face at the television or mumble something under his breath, but other than that we’re quiet. The sport turns out to be baseball and I recall a few of the basic rules from the tragic gym classes of my past. It’s not disastrous in any way, and surprisingly I don’t get bored. There is something relaxing about the repetitive nature of the game.

After the game ends we box up the remaining slices and put them in the fridge to be eaten tomorrow, say good night, and go our separate ways at the top of the stairs.

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kbstories · 4 years

Text

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Post-Kamino Arc, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff and Recovery, The Boys Discovering Unbreakable Via Questionable Training Methods

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Content warning for nightmares and generally traumatic experiences (both only mentioned). Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

Three days into U.A.’s new dorms, Bakugou hasn’t crossed Kirishima’s path a single time.

Don’t fuss, Kirishima had reminded himself that first night, crimson eyes following Bakugou as he slinks off to the elevators. Hands in his pockets, duffle bag slung over one shoulder, his typical slouch executed to perfection – the same as always yet achingly out of place against the buzzing excitement of the dozen and a half heroes-to-be at his back.

Under his breath, Kirishima muttered, “Give him space”, as he heaved boxes of manga, multiple sets of weights and his punching bag into his room before dedicating all his attention to stuffing a suitcase worth of brightly patterned shirts into the standard issue closet U.A. provided them with. He worked for hours and hours, unpacking and reminiscing and decorating until the room was satisfyingly his and the gel in his hair drooped with how sweaty he got.

It’s fine, he thought, pinning the last poster to the wall he shares with Bakugou. It hadn’t quite sunken in yet that they’re neighbors, now. Bakugou is antisocial on the best of days. He’s fine.

The thought of the white headband he’d lost had been fleeting at most, a lamenting little sting as he wiped his brow and saw his roots were starting to show. It came back full force as he stepped out to join the others in the common room and found an identical one hooked on his knob, the tag still attached.

Right. Kirishima gave the door to his right a soft look, firmly shut as it was. The tag was snapped off with ease and the headband was back where it belonged.

It goes on like that for a while. With the administration accommodating their move and the new term weeks away, Kirishima invests his free time into catching up on his gaming hangouts with Kaminari and the re-watch of Fullmetal Alchemist he started with Sero before everything went haywire. He helps Mina sort through the abundance of gossip flooding in with everyone’s mundane habits and routines suddenly much more apparent, and talks to classmates he hasn’t had the time to get to know all that well over shared breakfasts and class-wide movie marathons.

It’s like he gained a whole new family overnight – a notion that’s healing in and of itself, the rift that disastrous training camp tore into them scarring shut with every moment spent together.

(Still, Kirishima misses his moms and Riot something fierce. Their goodbye had featured a total sum of zero dry eyes between them; Kirishima’s face had been a blotchy red mess for hours afterwards.)

And then there’s Bakugou.

The guy is like a ghost, those first days, his absence felt as much as the odd trace of his presence he leaves behind. A mug drying next to the sink in the mornings; the thrum of guitar riffs and double-base beats muffled to indistinctness by the thick concrete between them; carpet-dulled footsteps down the hallway, that stomp familiar even without an intended audience for its passive-aggressiveness.

Little bits and pieces of evidence Kirishima takes note of and memorizes just for the sake of it. For the moments that’s not enough, he texts.

Best Bakubro 💣💥

baku my man (sent 13:05)

got too many dorayaki by accident, u want some? (sent 13:05)

(from the store) (but still pretty yum) (sent 13:05)

nah (received 13:11)

ok no probs ❤️ (sent 13:11)

One time, he couldn’t come up with a valid enough excuse and spent minutes agonizing over the empty text box only to type a short u good bro? that was answered with an equally short fine a while later.

Kirishima is very, very glad Bakugou has dropped the habit of leaving him on read. This way, his frayed nerves only have to withstand the background stress of what if he’s downplaying it that seems moderate in comparison to–

Yup, not thinking about Kamino again. Moving on.

“Is he like… okay?”, Sero asks him eventually, YUI’s Again playing as they wait for the episode to start. He’s lying belly-down on his bed, his laptop positioned in a way Kirishima can see the screen from his chosen spot in the hammock. “Not gonna lie, it’s a bit freaky how quiet it’s been. When he’s around at all, which isn’t much.”

Not moving on, then.

Kirishima doesn't need any clarification who is meant. Sero isn’t the first (or the last, most likely) to approach him about this; for once, even Midoriya has been beaten to the punch by Todoroki. It doesn't matter who it is, though, the answer is always the same:

“I don’t know.”

A little hushed because it’s the truth and a confession at the same time. The mild surprise on Sero’s face makes Kirishima look down in search for words, his hands wringing the pocket of his threadbare hoodie just to have something to do. Half the intro flickers by in silence.

“Baku isn’t exactly a people person, y’know?” Kirishima scoffs at himself. What an understatement. “He likes to do stuff his way and fight his own battles, lone wolf style. So, it’s been a bit, uh, stressful for him. To have everyone – and I mean everyone, heroes, police, the media, you name it – be in his business and then have all of us around all the time, too.”

That’s pretty much what he can say without outright speculating or infringing upon the things Bakugou told him in confidence. No matter how much Kirishima appreciates Sero as his friend, his lips are sealed unless Bakugou decides otherwise.

About two minutes into the episode, Sero hits the space bar. The screen pauses on a frame of ambiguously European-looking buildings.

“Okay, sorry, it’s just. How is Bakugou the one with the biggest cryptid energy in 1-A right now? Even Tokoyami emerges from the shadows sometimes and being a cryptid is like, his whole deal.”

Wrapped in humor as it is, Sero’s concern brings a smile to Kirishima’s lips. It’s good to know he – and Todoroki, and Midoriya – care, even when Bakugou is being elusive and hard to reach on purpose. It’s what makes all the difference, sometimes.

“Dunno, he’s a pretty complex guy once you give him a chance. Plus, I’m pretty sure he spends 90% of his time either training or studying or thinking about training and studying so it’s not like he’s not doing stuff. It just doesn’t really involve any of us.”

A thumb on his chin, Sero muses: “Not a cryptid but a closet nerd, huh? That… makes a lot of sense actually. I always thought he’s some kinda genius but I guess even geniuses have to work hard to get good.”

“Dude, he’s such a nerd”, Kirishima agrees with an enthusiastic grin. “Like, I’m pretty sure he wakes up with the sun and gets right to it. Being around him is so motivating, I wanna shoot for the stars and achieve my dreams simply because he’s doing it, too.”

“Okay, I get it. Blasty’s the best.”

Kirishima nods so hard the hammock moves with it; Sero snickers and shakes his head. His smile dims, then, more pensive than before.

“Listen, man. I know it’s over and done with and like, getting bent out of shape over what ifs is pointless but – I wish I’d been there.” Sero traces the borders of his laptop, a repetitive and thoughtless motion. “To help him, I mean. Watching him fight for his life on TV was really freaking miserable, I was shaking the whole time. To think you guys were there as well and how much worse it could’ve gone… How bad things are, even now… I don’t know. It’s haunting, honestly.”

It’s entirely silent, for a while. Kirishima’s mouth is dry, his eyes starting to burn with how quiet Sero’s voice got towards the end there.

“I’ve, um. I’ve had nightmares about it, actually.” Admitting it feels right, despite the heaviness that doesn’t belong in a room smelling of fresh paint and new beginnings. “I don’t know how much I’m allowed to say here. It’s all a blur anyways, I was freaking out until we got there and once we had him we just ran. But… We were there, hiding behind this wall with Midoriya doing his mumbling thing to figure out what the fuck to do. All for One was there, too.”

Just the memory makes Kirishima want to hurl. Images flash before his eyes, there and gone and seared into his retinas all the same. He looks at Sero, at eyes gone wide with worry.

“That guy’s presence… It felt like dying. I don’t know how else to describe it, it was like standing on a cliff knowing you’re about to lose balance and go splat and it wasn’t going away. Katsuki talked to him directly, fought villains outnumbered six-to-one with him right there.”

Somewhere in their periphery the laptop’s screen flickers to darkness. Kirishima takes a deep breath, mentally counting down on the exhale.

“I’m worried, too. I’m trying not to fuss because it makes Bakugou uncomfy when I do but it’s hard. He’s answering my texts, at least. And he, uh, didn’t mention all the embarrassing shit I sent him while he was gone. So, that’s something, I guess.”

That makes Sero’s brow perk up from a somber frown to vague curiosity. “Embarrassing shit?”

“Really embarrassing shit.” Kirishima’s face flushes so hard his cheeks practically glow with heat. “Full on you-might-be-dead-and-I-don’t-know-how-to-cope-with-that embarrassing. I was a total mess, dude.”

Sero breathes a sympathetic sort of noise. “Oh, that.” He reaches over to pat his head. “Yeah, you kind of were. It’s okay, though, Kiri. I’m pretty sure you’re allowed to be a mess when your best friend– Well, y’know.”

“Mmh”, Kirishima makes, his hands framing his own face in a bid to cool it down a bit. “I swear if he ever brings it up I’ll perish on the spot. Goodbye sweet world, it was nice knowing ya.”

“Pressing F hard for you, man.” Sero nods along solemnly. “Don’t worry, I’ll let Riot know you loved him.”

“Thanks, bro!”

They share a grin, not as bright as it could be. Given the state of the world, it’s a damn miracle it’s there at all. Kirishima sighs a little and juts his chin at the laptop.

“C’mon. Let’s watch the Elrics do cool alchemy stuff and/or cry about how depressing their life is.”

Sero finger-guns at him, “You got it”, as a line of tape goes for the touch pad and the freeze frame comes unstuck. The rest of the night is lost to the comforting nostalgia of a story they both know by heart.

Best Bakubro 💣💥

u ok? (sent 22:00)

yea (received 22:02)

oh!! ur awake (sent 22:02)

? (received 22:03)

hhhh isn’t it way past ur bedtime? (sent 22:03)

💦💦 (sent 22:03)

🖕 (received 22:11)

GASP (sent 22:11)

did you seriously just type out “gasp” (received 22:11)

uh yea??? this is an important moment (sent 22:12)

i’m so proud of u (sent 22:12)

fucking hell (received 22:12)

go to sleep already (received 22:14)

aaa ok (sent 22:14)

night nitro!! (sent 22:14)

🔪 (received 22:17)

❤️ (sent 22:17)

The alarm jolts Kirishima out of fitful sleep.

A hand searches the bedframe with clumsy pats, eyes squeezed in a bleary squint as the screen flashes to life in the dark. The notification reads Gym w/ B!!! besides a big, glowing 5:00.

Kirishima groans. It’s a critical hit to his still-recovering sleep deprivation, making his arms bend like limp noodles under his weight. He crashes back into bed and lets the void swallow him.

Knocking. Hard, incessant, escalating in volume and frequency until–

“Oi! Shark Teeth! Get up already!”

Kirishima is ripping the door open before he’s even aware he’s on his feet and awake enough to do so. A breathless “Bro!” fills the space the knocking occupied a moment before.

“About fucking time.”

In the shy light of a sun peeking over the horizon, the phantom of the 1-A dorm becomes solid and real in the shape of one grumpy-faced Bakugou Katsuki: a towel over his shoulder, a bottle of water hanging from two fingers by its handle, looking whole and rested and average amounts of ticked off and oh, Kirishima missed Bakugou.

Kirishima’s also staring. Which he realizes because Bakugou shuffles in place, gaze drifting to the side, a hand scratching his neck. “It’s Saturday”, he says a little awkwardly, offering nothing else to follow it up with.

Saturday. Gym day, which Kirishima’s phone remembered and Kirishima did, too, the night before when he’d wondered if that’s still a thing now that they moved together and Bakugou went into stealth mode and everything is constantly shifting under their feet.

Not everything. Most things, apparently not this one, this thing that’s been theirs since the start. Kirishima smiles, bright and relieved. He promises:

“Be right there. Two minutes!”

He runs because what if Bakugou changes his mind? What if he decides to go ahead without him, and Kirishima loses that glimpse only he gets, of Bakugou being in his element and relaxed and happy?

Then he’s back and Bakugou is still there, leaning against the wall and scrolling on his phone while he waits. A glance, lingering on the all-caps SWEATING print on his red tank top over neon aqua shorts – Kirishima flexes to show off his outfit properly. “Pretty rad, right?”

Bakugou blinks, slowly. The verbal jab Kirishima expects never comes. Instead, he gets a low, “You done or what?”

“Yeah, man! Let’s go.”

Maybe Bakugou missed him, too.

“Push it!”

Kirishima clenches his jaw, the serrated line of his teeth grinding to the point of pain. He pushes, skin pulling tight and muscles screaming as they bunch up and split apart in harsh ripples. His vision fractures into two, three distinct shards.

The blast engulfs him between one heartbeat and the next. Nitroglycerine-fueled flames lick over every inch of exposed skin, his arms and face and chest registering the heat before the pain, dull and frustratingly there.

It’s over in a flash. Bakugou wipes sweat off his chin with his arm, palms still smoldering. “And?”

“Still feelin’ it”, Kirishima rasps out. His quirk drops, leaves his body softer and aching; breathing is a bit of a challenge, inhales and exhales coming quick and hard. Arms crossed over his head, he lets out a groan, his voice dipping into a growl.

“I can go further! I know I can. It’s right there but I can’t. Quite. Grasp it. Urgh!”

“Fuck”, Bakugou mutters with feeling. Exactly, Kirishima thinks, fuming at himself. Fuck.

They’ve been at it for hours. Gym γ is in ruins, which is fine since Cementoss can fix it up in seconds once they’re done but still. By this point, Kirishima expects more progress than aggressive indoor renovation via explosions.

A hero’s Ultimate Move is supposed to be this grand, show-stopping technique to turn the tides and save the day. Finally, finally, they’re in the clear to develop their own. There’s an idea in Kirishima’s head, a concept he’s worked on for almost as long as his aesthetic as a hero. An extension there-of, in a sense.

It’s badass, it’s manly, it’s invincible–

It’s not this. Kirishima is starting to doubt he’ll ever get there.

“What’s wrong with me, man? Like, I see you coming and my quirk kicks up a notch ‘cause it’ll hurt if I don’t harden enough and then it just. Stops? Before it gets where I want it to be? Are explosions to the face not dangerous enough, or something?”

Bakugou is shaking out his hands and loosening his shoulders, a wince making his nose scrunch a little. “You’ve taken more of ‘em today than you could at the Festival”, he notes in that neutral tone he uses when he counters Kirishima’s whining with facts and logic. “Pretty sure any of the other extras would be dust by now, including that steel fucker.”

Kirishima appreciates the Bakugou-version of a pep talk, he really does, and he’s probably right (he usually is). But it’s not what he wants. He wants his Ultimate, and he wants it now.

And, eyeing Bakugou’s grenade bracers, he might know of one way to get there.

“Use those.”

“Hah?”

Kirishima pats one of the clunky devices, hand hardened just in case. Bakugou bares his teeth at him but doesn’t pull away. “These. Hit me with ‘em? Full blast.”

Bakugou’s expression sobers. Dead serious. “Don’t fuck with me. They’re not made for people.”

(And Midoriya is what, a house plant? Kirishima doesn’t voice that thought out loud. He has some sense of self-preservation, thank you very much.)

Besides, Bakugou didn’t say no. The possibility is there, if heavily guarded – and where there’s a chance, Kirishima will always at least try.

“Look, dude. For better or for worse I’m too used to anything else, and adrenaline alone is clearly not cutting it right now. I’m…” Kirishima laughs, a little embarrassed despite himself. “I remember what that explosion did to Ground β. Not gonna lie, it was pretty wild and I’m a bit, uh, scared. But I’m also ready. I can take it, I know I can.”

Bakugou is looking at him, intense in a different way, searching Kirishima’s face for… something. “You’re scared of me?”

What? Kirishima rewinds what he said in his head and oh no. He waves his hands in front of him, like he can physically wipe away the notion. “No. No, Katsuki, I’m scared of what I saw back then. You, I trust. With my life.”

Which is a sappy thing to say, even Kirishima will admit that, but it’s also true. Asking Bakugou to use the bracers on him is literally placing his life in his (very lethal) hands.

There is a line between sparring and actual combat, and while they’ve come close to it, have toed it and tested its give in pursuit of greater heights, they’ve never taken that leap. They’re back at it now, balancing on that edge, and Kirishima can guide Bakugou there but he won’t push him across because Bakugou is hesitating.

“Once I pull the pin, I can’t stop it”, Bakugou says, locking Kirishima’s eyes with own. “I can redirect the blast but it won’t stop.”

Kirishima nods. “I know.”

“They’re all the way full. It’s gonna be brutal.”

“I know”, he repeats, chest warm despite the tingle of nerves in his gut. “I can take it. I swear.”

Bakugou spits on the ground. “Fine. Fuck it. You better fucking push it this time or you’re literally dead.”

“Oof, did you have to put it that way?”

A cold look is all he gets. Kirishima stands a bit taller on instinct. No time to joke, got it. Bakugou rolls his neck and explosion-jumps a good twenty yards away before turning back towards him. His right bracer is checked over in brisk and efficient moves.

“Get ready. I’ll count down from five. On go, you go. Plus fucking ultra.”

Legs apart, knees locked, back in a straight line. The stance comes to Kirishima as easy as breathing, as does the rigid feeling of his quirk taking hold. He braces his arms, hands up with his fingers sharp and claw-like.

A grim smile. “Plus ultra”, Kirishima confirms.

The safety slides off with an audible click. The pin emerges, Bakugou’s index limp on the trigger. “Five.”

Inhale.

“Four.”

Kirishima knocks his hands together, the rock-like smack reassuringly familiar.

“Three.”

Exhale. His limbs go stiff, his skin having long lost feeling as the keratin in it grows solid. Tough. Bulletproof.

“Two.”

Harder. Harder. Like a mountain. Like granite. Like raw fucking diamonds. Harder than that.

“One.”

Inhale, inhale, inhale. Kirishima’s chest locks into place, his heart pumping away as his innermost remains unchanged and everything else goes rigid. Be strong. Be invincible–

“Go!”

A hiss, a spark, flames – the explosion roars to life and Kirishima roars back, sees it coming in a wave of light and destruction coming for him and only him. It’s not enough, more, more, but his quirk is buckling as it crashes into that wall inside him he can’t break–

“Push it, Kirishima! Push it, damn you!!”

He’s in Kamino, back to the wall and head full of death. Himself, dead, his classmates, dead, Bakugou, dead dead dead–

Never!

A second before impact and it fractures, splits apart. Time passes in slow motion as his vision bursts into a thousand unique and unknowable shades and–

Everything is so sharp, fragmented and crystalline and bright. The explosion hits, a kaleidoscope of red-yellow-orange that makes sense, somehow. Kirishima watches as it rolls over his hands and wrists and arms; it pushes against his chest like a gust of wind, playful, almost, like it could carry his weight if he leans into it, so he does.

One step. His body is heavy, so heavy, rumbling and grinding against itself at every point of contact – at his joints, between his fingers, along the knife’s edge of his teeth. Another step, again, again, moving through it like it’s the ocean lazily lapping at his legs in molten waves headed to shore.

It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds. Kirishima doesn’t register it’s over until he catches a shouted “Eijirou!” and Bakugou is there, sliding to a stop right in front of him. There’s shock written all across his face.

“Holy shit.”

Maybe Kirishima died, after all? It’s hard to tell with him being head-to-toe numb – he is pretty sure that feeling in his chest is his heart beating like the wings of a caged hummingbird. His lungs are screaming for breath, actually, and Kirishima tries but breathing is not working right now, which is fine. He opens his mouth all the same.

“Did it work?”

His voice is this low rumble that he himself barely recognizes. It’s okay, Bakugou understands him. Bakugou laughs, in fact, a short, incredulous huff of air.

“Did it work?! Did it fucking–”

A gasp, like Bakugou realized in that exact moment it’s Kirishima in front of him. Then he grins, big and toothy and so excited it’s making Kirishima dizzy.

“Holy shit, it worked! You fucking survived! And you’re a dragon! Or something! You have claws and fucking fangs and– That’s so badass, what the fuck!”

“What?!”

“YEAH!”

Kirishima looks down at his hands – his claws, long as daggers and curved inwards. “Oh fuck. Is it cool? Dude, I can’t see myself! Is it cool?!”

“You’re a fucking dragon of course it’s fucking cool”, Bakugou yells at him in one breath. “Shit, wait. Wait, wait, where the fuck is my–”

He takes off his cloves and fumbles for his pockets, like fumbling is something Bakugou does. The world is still weirdly precise and crystal-like and starting to spin, uh oh, that can’t be good. Bakugou’s got his phone out and Kirishima smiles, a Pavlovian response to being in front of a camera, and his jaw creaks with the movement.

Creaking is not a noise a human body should do. Then again, surviving a blast like that is also something that should be impossible.

Holy shit indeed.

“I made it.” Kirishima continues to stare down at himself, at the jagged plains of his chest where he tore through his shirt. It doesn’t feel real but it is. “I’m alive. I got my Ultimate.”

Bakugou is back and closer than before, his face mere inches from Kirishima’s. “Fucking woah, dude. Not a single scratch. This is insane.” The grin is still there, his voice quieter and dripping with pride. “Did ya feel it at all? How’s your mobility? Is there a time limit to this or–”

It’s getting hard to focus, Bakugou’s words running into each other and flying right by without his brain processing any of it. His spiked vision is blotted out in places, increasingly stained in black ink dots.

“I think I’m… I’m about to pass out.”

“Wha– Drop it. Kiri, drop your quirk!”

I’m trying, he wants to tell him but there’s no air left to say it with. Kirishima goes to his knees an instance later, his stiffened body resisting the way he wants to fold forward. Sounds are muffled, the darkness closing in–

By impending unconsciousness or by command, it doesn’t really matter: Kirishima feels his quirk fade and his entire body soften. He’s falling over until he’s not, strong hands catching him around the shoulders. A moment later, a semi-gentle slap to his cheek reminds him that there’s something he should be doing.

Kirishima breathes.

It feels really good, even if it hurts, too. His chest is flexible enough to expand now but clearly not happy about it while his lungs lurch for every bit of oxygen they can get. Breathing is a lot of work, then, but it’s worth it. Kirishima has an Ultimate Move, and he knows how to turn it off. Kind of.

“Why didn’t you tell me you can’t fucking breathe in it?!”

“Ah”, Kirishima mumbles, in-between pathetic pants of air, “That would be… because… I didn’t know… I couldn’t… Wow, I’m so dizzy.”

Bakugou groans. “Yeah, it’s almost like you just nearly suffocated yourself to death. Sit your ass down, idiot.”

A flick to Kirishima’s cheek has him whining. Every inch of himself is prickling with oversensitivity, the polar opposite to how it felt to exist in that explosion.

Because he did that. That happened.

By now he’s aware he’s leaning on Bakugou, his legs wobbling even as he’s held steady until he can plant his butt on the floor. Bakugou doesn’t push him off after he sits right next to him, either; he nudges him aside to take off his bracers and his collar but otherwise, Kirishima is free to stay where he is.

Kirishima takes the invitation for what it is and lets himself rest against his shoulder, thoroughly exhausted. “It felt so cool”, he tells Bakugou once he can inhale without shaking out of his own skin.

“Like. My vision went nuts just before the blast hit, I think that’s when I activated it. Everything was all bright and, like, broken apart? Kind of like shards of glass or something, it sounds weird now but it made sense in that moment. I was standing in the explosion and it barely moved me.”

Bakugou’s eyebrows go all the way up. “Seriously? That shit usually levels a whole building.”

“Yeah! I walked a bit, too, so that’s what I’ll work on next. Breathing would be good as well, I guess. Just have to get used to, well, everything.”

Looking down at his naked arms and the red outline around his right wrist, Bakugou nods, pensive. “Were you scared?”

Kirishima winces. Still thinking about that, huh? He almost regrets mentioning it at all, even if it’s the truth and part of them. Their starting point, all those months ago.

“At first, yeah. And then it was gone. Like, I feel I can face down anything when I’m like that, y’know? I won’t break no matter what. It’s exactly I wanted.”

Kirishima’s laugh comes out wheezy. There’s a headache pounding away at his temples, his throat raw from yelling and everything else. “Unbreakable. That’s what I called it when I thought of it. And it’s reality now.”

“You’re fucking crazy.” A shake of Bakugou’s head. He digs out his phone again, flicking to the most recent entry in his camera roll. “Here. That’s how it looks like.”

What he sees wipes the smile off Kirishima’s face entirely. He gestures to the phone and Bakugou shrugs, dropping it in his hand. Kirishima holds it close to his face, almost cross-eyed with his need to drink in all the details. The red spikes of his hair. His eyes all intense and turned to stone. The teeth, holy hell. Layers and layers of armored skin shifting over each other like tectonic plates.

No wonder he sounded like rocks tumbling down the mountainside in that form.

Bakugou nudges his side. “Okay, spill. What’s the sad face for this time?”

“I don’t know.” Kirishima swallows. “It’s scary, isn’t it? I know why you got dragon from this and it is cool. It feels cool, too. But is it something people would feel safe around?”

“Uh, yeah?” The device is snatched back. “Civilians are morons and fickle as fuck but if this is standing between them and certain death, fuck yeah they’ll feel safe. Besides, you’re like Riot.”

“The dog or the hero?”

“Fucking both but I mean the dog. You’re like, stupid friendly and all”, a vague gesture to his face, “wholesome and shit, whoever doesn’t immediately get ‘hero’ from that is dumb as hell and deserves to die.”

“Okay, okay, I hear ya.” Kirishima chuckles, rubbing the back of his head under the praise. He hurries to say: “Well, minus the wishing-civilians-dead part.”

“Nope. They can definitely die.”

“Dude.”

Bakugou is grinning, though, knocking his phone against Kirishima’s forehead. “Get your head outta your ass already. That Ultimate is badass as fuck. We’re trying my AP shot on it, next time.”

“You mean the one that goes through concrete?”

“Ye-up, that’s the one. Now get off me, you’re all sweaty and gross.”

Kirishima oofs as he’s pushed to the ground. He stays there, for a minute or two. Staring up at the far ceiling and musing how okay things feel right now. Hoping that they’ll stay that way, for a little while at least.

Then Bakugou is standing over him, offering him a hand. “I’m not carrying you back, asshole. Get up.”

Kirishima groans as he’s pulled up. The tingling has firmly settled into soreness and it’s everywhere. Still, when Bakugou makes to let go, he holds on tighter.

“Bro, wait.”

A questioning glance.

“We gotta do the thing!”

The glance turns almost concerned, a silent have-you-finally-lost-your-marbles sort of look. “The… thing?”

“Yeah!” Kirishima imitates an explosion between their hands. “The sparking off thing!”

All confusion disappears. “Ah”, Bakugou says. Then he turns around and marches right out the gym.

“Baku, no! Don’t leave a bro hanging like that!”

(In the end, Kirishima gets his handshake. Bakugou complains about his ‘shitty ass puppy eyes’ being ‘effective as all fuck’ the whole way to the dorm.)

>>Chapter 7.

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #kiribaku #bnha fanfiction #i have so many thoughts on unbreakable yo #this fic is also on AO3!!#reblogs appreciated as always c:#my stuff

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silverwhiteraven · 5 years

Text

Borne of the Stars - Chapter 4 - An MLB Kryptonian AU

Tag List: @eve-valution @weird-pale-blonde-person @kris-pines04 @soulmate-game @abrx2002 @amayakans @vixen-uchiha @heldtogetherbysafetypins @raisuke06 @dorkus-minimus @captainartsypants @mopester-is-here @moonlightstar64 @annabellabrookes @daminett4life @toodaloo-kangaroo @the-navistar-carol @elspethshadow

[ Posted on Ao3 ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 3 ] [ Chapter 5 ]

[ A/N: Alright! The Metropolis ‘Intro Arc’ comes to a close, and leads right into a bit of time-skipping! Chapter 5 begins Marinette’s journey into gaining superpowers in strange ways. ]

[ Summary: Answers are given and some backstory is filled in, but blanks still remain. It’s time for new friends to part ways. ]

“Meteor shower?”

Marinette looked quizzically towards her parents, knowing nothing of such an event ever happening. But she also knew there was a chance it had happened before they had ever met her.

Sabine stepped up, a more passive, if not helpless, look of cluelessness on her features. “No, as far as Tom and I are aware, she wasn’t. But, perhaps, she may have been. You see,” she began to elaborate, wrapping a reassuring arm around her daughter alongside her husband, “Marinette is adopted.”

Supergirl blinked at that, and Tom continued where Sabine left off before the superhero could ask any premature questions.

“There was some kind of accident that happened with her original parents. Not her birth ones as far as the adoption agency knew. They claimed the DNA didn’t match any of the residents where she was found, and there was no birth certificate.”

Tom patted his daughter’s head and she smiled reassuringly. She knew the story, and came to terms with it long ago. It had never really been a crisis for her, it was simply a fact of her life.

Marinette decided to pick up the tale herself and explain the rest.

“They don't know what exactly caused it, but the whole building had collapsed, and I was the only survivor. They suspected some kind of explosion from the debris.

“The people who rescued me from the aftermath knew my name was Marinette because of a note that I had been swaddled with, but that was it. The note was too damaged to read anything else, but they suspect it may have been a simple baby-care to-do list for new parents.

“So, I guess to answer your question… We have no clue. Why? You said you saw something, an old injury, could it have been debris from the accident?”

Tom pipes up once more to fill in more blanks and open more questions. “There was no report of injuries from that, just your pre-existing scars.”

“And I don’t think they ever checked those,” Sabine adds, “likely assuming they were taken care of before the accident.”

“Scars…” Supergirl mused, looking Marinette over once more. “Marigold, they wouldn't happen to be over your right shoulder, back, and leg, would they?”

The Dupain-Chengs’ eyes were wide as they looked at each other before Marinette stepped closer, pushing down the right shoulder of her re-dawned over-shirt and the shirt underneath, twisting around to be able to show the faint scarring there in strange jagged, spotty patterns. It definitely looked like it had been something done by multiple culprits such as a dense scattering of tiny meteors. Or shrapnel from something much closer.

Supergirl’s resolve seemed to solidify at the sight and nodded, stepping up closer and pointing to one of the largest of the scars between her shoulder and collarbone, then another at her shoulder blade. “Your back and leg have big ones like these too, right?” A nod in response, and she continues.

“All of those spots have large chunks of crystals that I suspect might be from… a place I call home. I felt them when I helped you out back there.” Marinette furrowed her brow, wondering if that seeming uncharacteristic weakness and tiredness of the two superheroes had been because of these hidden crystals. Did she somehow really have a weakness to the indestructible heroes just sitting around inside her?

“Oh, sorry for being snippy back there by the way, I thought the crystals had been put in you on purpose, it didn't help that I recognized that other guy, too, I hope you can forgive me, Starshine.” Marinette flushed at the attention, not expecting the apology and another nickname, but she nodded in affirmation to the apology. Supergirl then stepped back as she continued on with a returned nod, and Marinette took it to put her sleeves back in place.

“Anyways, I’ll bet my hat, metaphorically of course, that all the smaller pieces were removed by your body naturally as you grew, but the bigger ones stuck around. Get those checked out, long term exposure of my homeworld’s rocks can have bad effects on humans. To have none so far, you're lucky. Well, as lucky as you can get with already having, ya’know… Yeah…” The hero looked sheepish now, and Marinette just laughed softly, Tom and Sabine chuckling behind her.

“We’ll be sure to get it taken care of,” Marinette nods glad to have gotten help for something she hadn't even known was wrong. “Thank you, Supergirl. For everything.”

“Hah, it was nothin’,” the hero grins, reaching up to touch her hair, and instead clocked herself in the temple with Marinette’s sketchbook that she still held. “Owch! Oh! Ha-hah, that- that's definitely not mine, here- Actually…” Before she hands it back, she pulls one of the pencils out from between the bindings and scribbles down into the blank spaces between the Superman sketches.

When Marinette finally takes the sketchbook back, there's two names and two numbers. The first, situated below the most detailed of the Superman designs, is the name Clark Kent, and a number labeled personal cell. The second number is vertically written between the Supergirl skirt and the sash design Supergirl had been admiring, and the name was Supergirl, also labeled with personal cell.

Marinette’s eyes go wide at both, and she slams the sketchbook closed to hide them from prying eyes. “But these are-! You-! I can’t-!”

She’s cut off by a full and gleeful laugh from the superhero. “Geode, It’s fine, don't worry ‘bout it! Really! Superman already told me to give you Kent’s for your reporter friend, the other one you can just consider an emergency contact for anything about those crystals you’ve got. That's acceptable, right? Good!” she beams when Marinette gives a speechless nod, and the designer could swear that Supergirl was actually doing something to make herself glow with the sun framing her from above her head.

“I should be heading off then,” the superhero continued, and her glow dimmed with it, but she stayed grinning and proud, more content in the moment. “Think you need anything else or we good?”

Having a quick thought, Marinette reached into her back and slipped out one of her home-made business cards. She never actually used them, she wasn't ready to start her own business just yet, but they were convenient if she ever needed to give her contact info to anyone. This was as good a time as any to put them to use.

She stepped up quickly and grabbed Supergirl’s hand in her own, slipping the paper into the other teen’s fingers.

“Thank you again, Supergirl, I mean it. Thank you.”

The hero softens just a bit as she looks back at the bright, dirt covered girl she rescued from the Daily Planet’s main symbol. Her grin returns full force and she winks. “Any time, cutie, it’s what I do.”

Marinette let's go with a laugh at the superhero’s antics, and finally releases her hand.

With a wave from both Supergirl and the Dupain-Chengs, they part ways.

A few things happen for Marinette after that day in Metropolis.

First, after Marinette got back to the hotel her family was staying in, she made a call to Alya back in Paris. She told her about the villain attack, the destruction, and the heroes rescuing her. She made sure to spare any and every personal detail, both of her own and of the heroes’. Marinette didn't want to be teased or prodded about it, and she strongly guessed the heroes didn't want the wrong things getting out. Alya had dropped her phone upon hearing about her getting not just the contact for a well known reporter, but also securing a promise for an interview in her name. Alya at least gracefully respected that Marinette refused to give up the number, and planned to set the interview up herself to make sure she didn't break their trust in her.

After that, Marinette and her parents discussed the whole alien crystals in her body thing, and decided they should get them removed as soon as they returned home, not wanting their daughter recovering from surgeries like that while travelling. Figuring Supergirl would be too busy to answer a call, she sent a text instead about the decision. A fitting string of emojis followed by a ‘sweet! update me soon, ttyl’ was the reply.

Marinette didn't encounter either of the Super-Duo for the rest of her trip, but she texted the teen again a few days before they were set to leave. She asked about music recommendations, stating a desire to get a gift of CDs or records for one of her long-time best friends back home. Not only did she get a good long list of album recommendations, but also a short list of the best music stores in the city, in order of ‘best to still-best-but-slightly-less-awesome’, as Supergirl put it.

After the Dupain-Chengs returned to Paris, the renovations of the bakery almost complete, they set up everything they needed for the removal of the foreign crystals. Once more, Marinette made sure to text Supergirl. And this time, they did see each other again. The American hero flew all the way to France to bring Marinette something, a Non-Disclosure Agreement for the doctors handling Marinette and the crystals. Apparently, her and her cousin used them in emergencies to keep their identities safe, and their weaknesses out of the wrong hands, as best they could. It only confirmed for Marinette that the crystals were indeed weaknesses to them, and she vowed to keep them secret.

Supergirl stayed in Paris to oversee the surgeries, despite how much it embarrassed Marinatte to have a superhero acting like a bodyguard at the hospital, let alone how much the girl told the hero it was alright to leave her on her own. Yet again, Marinette vowed to never tell Alya. She made the hero swear to it, too, though she was sure that promise wouldn't hold if Alya ever got an interview. Truthfully, she wouldn't really hold the other teen to it anyways, but it was nice to know Supergirl would still make the effort to keep it the promise.

After the crystals were removed and Marinette was home free, Supergirl handed her a leather-bound wooden box, decorated in brass bands and studs, and lined on the inside with lead and velvet. Inside sat several chunks of glowing, ethereal crystals. Most of them were shades of green, but one sat in the center and radiated a brilliant gold. Each had been carefully coated in something clear, meant to prevent skin-to-skin contact when handling, without diminishing the beauty.

“Kryptonite,” Supergirl confessed with a sheepish grin. “Pieces of Krypton, the home planet Kryptonians like Kal-El and I are from. You kept them safe without even knowing it, I can’t imagine how safe they'll be now that you know they're here. Better than being anywhere near us or our enemies, am I right?”

Marinette had laughed, exasperated at Supergirl’s antics, but decided, for once, not to refuse the gift, and accept the new responsibility that came with them. It was the least she could do for a friend from an ocean and a few galaxies away.

After a few weeks in Paris, Supergirl had to go back to Metropolis a week before Marinette’s last year of collège started, admitting to needing to return to start her first year of high school.

Her final statement to Marinette had been to make a bet.

Marinette had laughed and fallen down giggling when she first expressed her want to make it. She was so used to Kim and Alix doing the same thing, realizing that they would get along well with Supergirl if they ever met.

“Geode!” She had called out and declared with the largest air of confidence she could muster, “Geode, Blue Starshine, Princess, Macaroon, Cookie Dough, Buttercup, Blossom, Lil’ Butterfly, Darlin’, Cutie. Marinette! I mean it, and this is my bet! I am going to learn French! It’s going to suck, and I’m going to hate it, but you learned English, so I’ll try to learn something else, too, and maybe I’ll do it in time to surprise you with how awesome I am at it next year.”

“And if you can’t do it?” Marinette had giggled, the last of her laughter simmering down after the bold declaration.

“I won’t,” was the answer. Yet she still added, “But if I do fail, I’ll take you to the one place only Kal and I can go, a little piece of Home on Earth. Deal?”

Marinette softened at the whole thing, and nodded with a soft smile.

“Deal.”

#Kryptonian AU #Karanette #Borne of the Stars #maribat #crossover au #miraculous ladybug #dc super hero girls #dc superman #kara danvers #marinette dupain cheng #willowbendt #supergirl

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cbspams · 3 years

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iKON - Love Scenario + Killing Me

I'll specifically be referring to each member by the name they're using in Kingdom subtitles, so like Jinhwan instead of Jay, Donghyuk instead of DK etc.

Damn these are long lol, thank god for read more cuts

Sarangeul haetdaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa 🎶🎶🎶

I'm honestly so happy they did Love Scenario. I mean it's one of their most famous songs for sure but like, I would've been really sad if it wasn't performed at least once on Kingdom I think, just because I was so curious how they would spin it.

I will say that I would not consider this performance as a "mash up". Now in Round 2 the only groups who do mashups are iKON and SKZ as far as I'm aware, so I'm also taking some of the mash ups used in RTK (Pentagon - Shine/Spring Snow, ONF - We Must Love/Moscow Moscow, It's Raining) as reference to why I would personally call this a "set" rather than a "mash up".

So Love Scenario is a pretty classic mellow song, one which is beloved for obvious reasons of being fun and cheerful but in a quieter, soft vibes way. I loved that they took the melody and made it even more cheerful, adding in those trumpet/saxophone tones and bumping it up to a musical tone song. I especially appreciate that they made it so bright because the other performances are so dark (ATEEZ included, though theirs was more forceful and powerful than dark). It's just really refreshing to hear.

Going back to mash ups though, I'm not sure if I could consider this a mash up in my mind? Here's the thing, I don't actually consider Shine/Spring Snow (Pentagon) or We Must Love/Moscow Moscow (ONF) as mash ups wither. To me, those are more like "sets", in which the songs have similar vibes or transition really well into each other. Shine/Spring Snow being a special stage to send of Jinho, the transition wasn't just a musical flow through but a small "cut". I can't really judge this one as a mash up because it's not a performance for the stage but for the heart but if you watch it, you can clearly see where Shine ends and where Spring Snow begins right? Even if the songs bled into each other though, the way they arranged Shine and Spring Snow, I think it would've been a flawless transition in.

Separately, consider ONF's spliced set in which they do nearly all of We Must Love and then tag Moscow Moscow in towards the end lyrically. Because both songs carry different vibes originally, the arrangement became really important in order to splice the songs together and make the transition seamless. And that arrangement did a wonderful job! If I didn't watch those songs beforehand, I wouldn't even have been able to tell that there were two songs in the performance.

So then what's a mash up? A mash up in my mind is more similar to SKZ's Jasin or ONF's It's Raining. It's where the songs and melodies are arranged together, splicing together lyrics and melodies to become one song completely. There's no telling where one song ends and another begins because they're integrated together. ONF's It's Raining is actually a really cool example of this, where they mashed up It's Raining (Rain) with their own song Complete. They keep all the lyrics of It's Raining but add in their own jaunty vibe with the fun saxophone, changing the song entirely. Similarly, SKZ's Jasin (which I will also analyze later), has God's Menu and Side Effects spliced together to become a new song. Obviously SKZ's is different from ONF as SKZ produce and arrange their own songs already, but the end result is the same: a completely new song despite carrying lyrics and melodies from the components.

In this way, I would define iKON's performance as a "set" over a "mash up". The songs align together to tell a story and have a relatively seamless transition, but they do not incorporate each other to become a new song. I think that as far as arrangements go, this is decent and like in Shine/Spring Snow or We Must Love/Moscow Moscow, it's not a bad idea but it feels "weaker" because it's more like just lining the songs up together instead of actually "mashing" the songs together.

Wow that's a lot of talk on something that's not even actually the performance kdjfhk

BACK TO IT.

Because their theme is a breakup and dealing with what comes after, I think their intro is incredibly strong. Like the others said in the episode itself, Bobby's opening shot captures attention immediately. I love that they used a sort of, older black and white movie set with and actual The End card. I think the kind of jazzy vibes go right with that opening shot, the set designer and costumer definitely knew what kind of image they were going for. The movie end card as well as the girl disappearing clearly defines the performance as a breakup illustration, and the mellow vibes perfectly fit the kind of nostalgia that Love Scenario talks about. For anyone who doesn't know, Love Scenario is actually a post-breakup song that reminisces on the good times they had in the relationship. Bobby's verse in particular mentions that it's good they cut it off when they did, even though it hurts.

I also want to mention that I love how individual Bobby is. It's clear in every performance that he's a quirky one and I'm really impressed how he carries it in each performance, because this performance requires more cohesion as a story and yet he still adds little flairs of his own to make the performance more engaging and also more representative of iKON's hip hop style.

Donghyuk's acting and dance sequence flows so well! It's smooth, tells a small story of how they were close but drifting apart and I think his flair with the trench coat works wonderfully as far as visual effects go. There's just something so satisfying about watching the coat go whoosh hehe

THE CHORUS!!! Yo this totally reminds me of like, old broadway in the 1920's. The gold lights, jazzy tone, even the trench coats which I believe are iconic of old movie detectives and gentlemen-esque figures. Kinda reminds me of like black and white detective movies? The thing is, even if you don't know exactly what the outfits and such remind you of, the fact that they invoke that memory is awesome. I love costume design specifically because you don't always have to be detail for detail. It's enough if you can invoke a specific image in the mind of the audience. Junhoe really rocks the look in particular.

The choreography is also very reminiscent of musical theater! Obviously all of kpop is coordinated to be group based and there's always been formations that are similar to what iKON did, however the slide and arms out movement is very much so a musical theater thing. The flashing hands thing is as well! They really nailed down the idea of musical theater, and I love that so much! It's a sort of genre bend you might not expect from kpop but iKON's out here showing you that it is possible.

I love the lighting sequence. The blue and purple are so good, and once again it just invokes that older musical theater style because even as there's color, there's also a lot of clear white/yellow light. Choosing just two colors can be really impactful as the fewer colors there are, the more concentrated the stage looks. Consider for example, Pentagon's Follow stage in RTK. Choosing to only go with gold light and then using other lights as accents really enhanced the theme as well as made the stage easier to follow. Humans are designed to track movement and flashing, so having fewer things to distract us means we focus more on iKON's performance and less on the entire set.

I'll skip to the transition here just because the rest of the muscial theater sequence is very similar to what I've already said.

The transition is a bit jarring if I'm being honest. I think the fact that everyone else reacted like ?! as well means that the transition isn't as smooth as it could have been, especially considering the next song is Killing me. I mean it's pretty straight forward story wise: you fall in love, you undergo the break up and you're hurt but you're happy that you loved. But then still you feel regret and pain because you broke up. I think what would've made this smoother was if DK had one more dance sequence with the female dancer from the beginning. If she walks away from him and then he falls to the floor and has that heartbeat moment, I think that would've helped ease into the next song much easier.

The fact that they end on the line You’re too precious to just leave in the past though is a good transition point. It then bleeds into how in Killing Me, the lingering memories stick deeply. So lyrically it makes a lot of sense. I just don't like how the arrangement just switches off so suddenly, from cheerful jazz to then a rain fall heart beat thing. There's just something missing in between, visually or auditorily.

Something I've noticed about iKON is that they really like using their arms. In Rhythm Ta (intro stage), this stage and later in Inception (Round 2), iKON always has a dance sequence that involves moving arms, kind of like snakes? But as trees? Tree branches as snakes? Yeah. But I literally adore this kind of consistency. It's really cool to watch especially because as the rounds go on, they do it with more people so like obv the 100 sec intro was just the members of iKON but then round 1 had more and then round 2 was literally so many people!! It creates such a cool visual effect! For this performance, I do wish the lighting wasn't as dark as it was. I think some flashing black light would've made this awesome but it's still cool as it is.

PLEASE THE DANCE BREAK IS SO CLEAN. The move where Yunhyeong moves his arms in a circle and the members mirror that (screen left goes from low to high while screen right goes from high to low) is really pleasing to see. I could already tell from the 100 sec intro performance but iKON is has really good bounce to their movement. They pull off the isolation and popping that everyone else does but they do it so smoothly.

I think part of what gives iKON their bounce and flow is that when they stop for a second, it's very clean. There's no extra wobbling that happens with others. And again I really do think their dedicating to using their arms in wide gestures helps contribute to that contrast, because when you go wide movement to stop to wide movement again, your eyes get tricked into thinking the stop is a lot smoother than it could actually be.

I already could tell from before but Donghyuk and Jinhwan really are amazing dancers. Donghyuk is a master of more technical aspects but Jinhwan is really elegant in his moves? That little body roll he does just before Chanwoo's part is so good.

Chanwoo's acting!! Specifically his lines go "Why did I meet her? / Why did I choose this break up?" And then the next part that they all sing in is "I loved her to death / The extinguished fire is burning up again" which makes the fire lighting up so much more obvious. I also think that the fire stand area kind of looks like a coffin so lighting it on fire is a way of mourning the relationship? It visually looks awesome and connects really well to the story line itself, especially since it's a very intense moment to a soft drop in the song. Contrast creates focus!!

And then we have the literally name brand stuff iKON is made out of: bouncing hip hop. It fits them so well, it really does!

Gosh okay I know iKON hasn't been ranking very high and on initial impact, they honestly rank about mid to low for me as well but the more I watch their performances, the more I recognize bits and pieces of artistry they put into their performances. I really start to think like, no wonder they have so many award winning songs. I'm not really sure if they're suited to the way that this competition show works? Because I think first impressions are everything, and although obviously the kingdom judges will understand the lyricism and view the set designs and such more clearly, iKON's performances are still better suited to being watched repeatedly. Their first impression is always good but curiously not enough as far as initial impact goes. It's kind of like it just sticks to you so you want to see it over and over again. Which is really not great for competition shows like this where first impression and impact are everything, which I get but also it lowkey sucks because you miss a lot of details and it sort of forces everyone into the highly impactful performances rather than nuanced ones.

I've mentioned this before but because Kingdom has so much more for set design, costumes, lighting, it can be really distracting from the groups themselves. I think iKON actually does really well with having "still" sets, in which they're the focus, but I feel like that leads to more people picking out their flaws? I dunno, I really like iKON's performances so much and yet I can't find it in my heart to rank them higher than 3rd at any given point. I do just think it's the style of competition.

STILL, it means so much that they stick to their own identity rather than conform to Kingdom's standards. And clearly as they rise through the ranks, more people are recognizing that. So iKON! Fighting!!

#admin talk #kingdom commentary #kingdom performance comments

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until-the-sun-rises · 5 years

Text

Virgil’s Promise

AU Intro Post

AU Creators: @a-valorous-choice and @ironwoman359

Summary: Virgil, his mother, and his little brother Thomas have been living in the woods since a virus outbreak wiped out most of the population, including Virgil’s father. Life can be bleak, but they make the most of what they have. However, when Virgil’s world is turned upside down again, will he have what it takes to keep his little brother safe?

Content Warnings: Apocalypse AU, angst, character death, death of a parent, guns, knives, violence, mentions of blood, zombies (called terminals in universe), mentions of eating people (in a zombie sense, not a cannibal sense), crying, grief, sympathetic deceit, sympathetic remus, cursing, bittersweet ending. PLEASE let us know if you need anything else tagged, and stay safe! There are moments of comfort sprinkled throughout but this is mostly an angst piece with, again, a bittersweet ending. Do what you need to do to protect yourselves <3

Word Count: 5,464

Read on AO3 Here

Author’s Notes: Here it is, the first installment of the AU! I had such a fantastic time writing this, I’m really really proud of it, and can’t wait to hear what you guys think! Looking ahead, you can expect more introduction fics like this for our other main players, then we’ll get into other details of the main plotline! In the meantime, asks are open if you’d like to scream at us about the AU, we’d love to scream back! Love you guys, thanks so much for the support! -Taylor ☕️

--- --- ---

“Mom, I found more berries!”

Virgil looked up to see his eight-year-old brother holding out a handful of dark purple berries with a wide grin stretched across his face.

“Thomas, put those down!” their mother Emma cried, rushing over to Thomas’s side. “Those are pokeweed berries, honey, you can’t eat those. They’ll make you very very sick if you eat them, okay?”

“Oh...okay. Sorry.”

Thomas’s lip wobbled a little, and Emma smiled, smoothing back Thomas’s hair.

“It’s okay, sweetie, you didn’t know. They’re very pretty berries, aren’t they?”

“Uh huh,” Thomas agreed, nodding. “That’s why I thought they were fine to eat.”

“There’s lots of things in the woods that look pretty, but not all of them are safe, okay? Pokeweed berries are never fine to eat, they make you really sick. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Good boy.” Emma smiled, and pointed over his shoulder. “Now, see those white flowers behind you?”

“Uh huh.”

“Those are Queen Anne’s lace flowers. And their roots are actually wild carrots! Why don’t you go over and dig some up for us, okay?”

Thomas nodded eagerly and skipped over to the patch of flowers. Emma sighed in relief, and sat back on her heels, smiling fondly as she watched her son.

“I thought pokeweed was okay sometimes?” Virgil asked, coming up behind her, causing her to jump a little.

“Virgil! You startled me, who taught you to move so quietly?”

Virgil grinned.

“You did. When you insisted you take me paintballing for my sixteenth birthday.”

“Fair’s fair,” Emma laughed. “What did you ask me just now?”

“Pokeweed,” Virgil repeated. “I thought you could eat it sometimes?”

“Ah, I see,” she said. “Well, that’s true, but never the berries, or the roots. You can eat the leaves sometimes, but only if the plant is young. If you see the berries start to form, even if they’re still green, you shouldn’t even try. And you should boil the leaves first too. If you’re not careful, you could get vomiting or diarrhea...and that’s something we want to avoid when we’re fighting for our lives, isn’t it?”

She said it in an upbeat tone, but the sombering nature of their reality couldn’t help but settle over Virgil’s shoulders anyway. He tugged the sleeves of his hoodie down over his hands, gripping the soft fabric tightly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Emma said softly, and Virgil shrugged.

“S’not your fault. The whole world is kinda upsetting right now.”

It had been three months since the outbreak, three months since Virgil’s father had died and he’d been on the run with his mom and brother, trying to stay alive. Fortunately, Emma was an avid camper and lover of the outdoors, so the three of them had been able to avoid towns for the most part. Sure, staying away from civilization meant that they were living off of mostly foraged plants and birds eggs, and it’d been ages since Virgil had taken a real shower, but those were small prices to pay for being able to mostly avoid the terminals. Thy tended to be in larger groups closer to towns and cities, so sticking to the country meant fewer encounters with the deadly infected creatures.

People, Virgil thought grimly. They may be like monsters now, but they used to be people.

“I know it is, sweetheart,” his mother said, pulling him from his thoughts. “And it’s not fair, how fast you’ve had to grow up now.” Emma sighed, looking over to where Thomas was eagerly digging up roots for their supper. “You should be enjoying your summer, deciding on a college or a career...not this.”

Virgil shrugged.

“I didn’t really know what I wanted to do anyway.”

“I know that,” Emma said, giving him a sad smile. “But you had time to figure it out, to explore the world and decide what kind of man you’re going to become. Now that’s a luxury you don’t have anymore.”

Virgil looked down at his shoes, swallowing nervously. It wasn’t like his mom to be so openly melancholy; if anything, since they’d gone on the run she’d become even more upbeat and cheerful than usual. He had a feeling that she was trying to keep a brave face up for him and Thomas, but just because he knew it was partly an act didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate it. Some days he could almost pretend that this whole thing was just an extended summer camping trip, and then they’d go home and their dad would greet them at the door and they’d tell him all about it while sitting on the sofa in front of the TV.

That illusion shattered every time they came across a terminal.

“Virgil, listen to me,” Emma said, and there was an urgency to her voice that made Virgil look up. “Right now, the only thing we can be certain of, the only thing we can rely on, is each other. It’s my job to look out for the both of you, and it’s your job to look out for Thomas. Protecting him has to be the top priority, alright?”

“Yeah,” Virgil nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I know, Mom. I...I won’t let anything happen to him.”

“Oh, honey, come here,” she said, and Virgil let her wrap her arms around him.

He felt exceptionally small in his mother’s embrace, but not the bad kind of small where he felt powerless and afraid. He felt safe, protected, shielded from all the horrors of the world. Her grip tightened, and Virgil realized with a start that she was trembling.

“Mom?”

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered. “You’re so strong, and so brave. Thomas is lucky to have you for a big brother.”

Virgil didn’t feel strong most days, and he certainly didn’t feel brave. Most of the time he just felt scared; strength and bravery were attributes he’d be more likely to apply to his mother than himself. But the way she held onto him now, as though he’d disappear if she let go for one second made him realize that she was also scared. Scared for herself, but scared for him, too, and for Thomas; scared that she couldn’t keep them safe in this new world full of dangers.

Virgil may not have had much faith in himself, but he had faith in his mother. And she was putting her faith into him, and he’d be damned if he let her down.

“I won’t let anything happen to him, Mom,” he repeated, hugging her back tightly. “I promise.”

--- --- ---

Virgil’s heart was pounding so heavily he was sure it was going to burst out of his chest. Wouldn’t that just be his luck, he’d escape being eaten by terminals only to fall over dead from a heart attack. His lungs were on fire, and his legs threatened to buckle underneath him more and more with every step. But then Thomas whimpered in his ear, burying his face deeper into Virgil’s neck, and Virgil took a deep breath. He adjusted his grip on Thomas’s legs and pressed forward, his mother’s instructions echoing in his ears and urging him onward.

The old cabin had seemed deserted enough, with no trace of the previous inhabitants anywhere, so they’d gotten a little too relaxed as they searched the building for supplies. But it turned out the area wasn’t as deserted as they thought, and the sound of his little brother screaming had brought Virgil barreling out of the bathroom and into the main room to see three terminals bearing down on his family. Virgil’s mother was gripping a tire iron like a baseball bat and standing between Thomas and the advancing creatures.

“Virgil,” she’d said in a low voice. “Take Thomas and get out of here, now.”

Virgil hadn’t wanted to leave her, but the look in her eyes had left no room for argument, so he’d scooped his brother up piggyback style and fled towards the back door, wincing as he heard his mother let out a primal roar, followed by a sickening *thwack*.

Virgil didn’t stop running until he stumbled back into the clearing where they’d made camp, collapsing to his knees and letting Thomas climb off his back. Every muscle in his body ached, and for a moment he just stayed on the ground, gasping as he fought to get his breath back.

“Virgil?” Thomas asked, voice wobbling, and Virgil looked up to meet his brother’s tear-filled eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Virgil gasped, managing to give his brother a small smile. “I’m...I’m okay...just...just catching my breath.”

“Is Mom okay?”

Virgil opened his mouth, then closed it again. Part of him wanted to lie, to promise that their mother would be just fine and would come and get them when the scary monsters were all gone. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, and he met his brother’s gaze with a grim expression.

“I...I don’t know, Thomas.”

Thomas fell silent, and for a moment neither of them moved, Virgil still gulping down breaths of air, trying to get his wind back. Then, so suddenly that it made Virgil jump, Thomas crawled forward and nestled himself into Virgil’s lap, wrapping his arms around his middle and laying his head on Virgil’s chest.

“Your heart is beating really fast,” he said, and Virgil nodded, wrapping his arms around Thomas and drawing him closer.

“Yeah, it is, buddy,” he said quietly.

“You should count your breaths like Mom says to do. Okay?”

“Okay, yeah. That’s a good idea,” Virgil said, grateful for something that could distract them both. “How about we do it together? Remind me how it starts again?”

Thomas scrunched up his nose as he thought.

“You breathe in for four counts, right?”

“That’s right, good job. Let’s do that together, okay? In, two, three, four…”

Virgil led them through the rest of the breathing exercise over and over again until Thomas drifted off to sleep, exhausted by the stress of the day. Virgil wanted nothing more than to join him in a nap, but he couldn’t sleep now, he had to stay up and keep watch, to see if their mother...or anything else, would approach the camp.

He waited for what felt like hours, every sense straining for any sign that somebody was coming. Finally, just as the sun was starting to dip in the sky, he caught sight of someone slowly walking towards the campsite. His heart leapt as he recognized his mother’s silhouette, short but strong with hair pulled up into a high ponytail.

“Thomas?” he murmured, giving his brother a small shake. “Wake up, Mom’s here.”

“Hmm?” Thomas asked blearily, still half asleep.

“Mom is…” Virgil trailed off as he looked back towards where their mom was walking.

Something was wrong.

Oh no...oh god, no, not this, please not this…

“What about Mom?” Thomas asked again rubbing at his eyes.

Oh god, I can’t do this, I can’t deal with this, please…

Virgil’s grip tightened on Thomas, and he scrambled to his feet, backing away while keeping his eyes trained forward.

“Virgil, what’s–”

“Thomas, listen,” Virgil said urgently, setting his little brother down. “I need you to hug this tree here and close your eyes, okay? Whatever you do, whatever you hear, don’t open them until I tell you. Do you understand?”

“Virgil, is Mom–”

“Do you understand?” Virgil asked desperately, and after a beat, Thomas nodded. “Good,” Virgil breathed, pressing his forehead against Thomas’s for a moment and taking a deep breath. “Close your eyes now,” he whispered, and he stood back up, turning back towards his mom.

No. That’s not Mom. Not anymore.

The woman that was lumbering towards him moved her limbs in broken, jerky motions, as though she was a poorly controlled marionette. Her eyes were bloodshot and empty, and saliva drooled out of her open mouth. A low moan escaped her lips as she came closer, and Virgil’s heart tightened in his chest. He’d seen terminals before, knew how they worked and how to kill them. But this...this was different.

This was his mother, and now she was a monster.

Virgil scrambled towards the log at the edge of their campsite where they’d stashed their supplies. There wasn’t much there, just one change of clothes, a few handfuls of food, the last of their bandages, and...there. His mom’s .22 rifle.

“We only have one bullet left, Virgil. So until we can find some more ammo, we’re not going to hunt or travel with this anymore, okay? We’ll keep it here in case there’s an emergency.”

Virgil’s hands shook as he pulled out the gun and checked to see that their last bullet was properly loaded. He’d never cared much for shooting, but after they’d made a run for the woods, his mom had insisted he learn to use it, teaching him how to hunt rabbits, possums, and other small animals that she’d then showed him how to clean and skin before cooking.

He’d never shot a terminal before.

Realistically, one of three things would happen. One, Virgil’s mother would attack them and he and Thomas would die, leaving their mother to feast on their remains. Two, Virgil’s mother would attack them and he and Thomas would turn terminal themselves, which basically boiled down to being brain dead while your body shuffled around in search of food. Or three...

Virgil raised the rifle up, tucking the butt to his shoulder and blinked away the tears that were forming in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, then he squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot echoed through the forest, and though Virgil’s ears were instantly ringing, he could still hear the sound of Thomas’s scream from behind him. Everything seemed to slow down as Emma’s body dropped to the floor of their campsite, instantly going still. A blur flew past Virgil, and he just barely dropped the rifle in time to catch Thomas as he rushed towards their mother.

Thomas struggled desperately against Virgl’s grip, sobbing as he tried to get free and run towards her. Virgil just held him tighter, ignoring his own tears as he pulled Thomas away.

“Thomas,” he choked out as Thomas kicked and struggled. “T-thomas, no, it’s not safe...th-they can still turn you when they’re dead if you’re not careful…”

Thomas just kept kicking and sobbing, and Virgil could do nothing but hold him back, even as his own tears fell. Eventually, Thomas went limp against him again, though his little body still quivered with sobs, making Virgil’s heart ache even more. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball with his baby brother and sleep, sleep until all the anguish bled away and left him empty.

But a steely voice inside him insisted that no, he couldn’t do that. The terminals were drawn to loud noises, and the gunshot was sure to attract more of the creatures to this spot. They needed to move, and quickly, if they wanted to avoid any more confrontations with the creatures, and with only his hunting knife left to defend themselves with, Virgil would rather avoid running into more of the terminals.

“Thomas,” he said, drawing away to look his brother in the eyes. “Thomas, look at me.”

Thomas looked up, his eyes puffy and red with tears trailing down his cheeks, and Virgil had to resist pulling him close for another hug. There would be time for grief later.

“I need you to go to the log and gather up all our things, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“M-mo...M-mom–” Thomas choked out, and Virgil cupped the back of his head, pressing their foreheads together.

“I know, Thomas, I know,” he said, more tears pooling in his eyes. “I am so, so sorry, but it’s not safe for us here. More of them will be coming, and Mom would want us to get far, far away so that we can be safe. Okay?”

Thomas sniffled, but nodded, and Virgil smiled at him through his tears.

“There’s a brave boy. Now go gather up our things, we need to move.”

Thomas stumbled over to the log, and Virgil took a deep breath before turning towards his mother’s body in the clearing. His stomach churned as he approached, and he swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat. It wasn’t pretty, but he knew what he had to do.

Virgil pointedly kept his gaze away from his mother’s face and carefully knelt down, sliding the straps of her knapsack off her shoulders. He took care not to touch anywhere near her now foam filled mouth, remembering what the news reports had said about the creatures when the outbreak had first occurred...back when they were still running news reports.

The virus is transmitted via bodily fluids; even if the infected subject is deceased, their corpse may still infect others if their blood or saliva comes into contact with open wounds.

Virgil tugged the bag out from under her, stepping away as she fell back against the ground. A quick rifle through its contents revealed most of the supplies that they’d gathered from the cabin, and his heart twisted again in his chest. By the looks of things, she’d managed to fight off the three terminals from the cabin and had stayed herself long enough to gather up their supplies and head back towards their camp. She probably hadn’t even realized she’d been infected until it was too late.

Virgil took one last look at his mother’s body, and paused as he saw a glint of gold around her neck. He looked over his shoulder to where Thomas was packing up their bag, then bent down and quickly pulled a heart-shaped locket from around his mother’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, allowing himself one brief look at her face. “I’ll look after him, Mom, I promise.”

He slipped the locket into his pocket, then turned and walked over to Thomas.

“Hey, buddy. Got everything?”

Thomas looked up at him and nodded solemnly.

“Good. It’s time for us to leave then, okay?”

Thomas looked over at their mother one last time, then back up at Virgil.

“Can you carry me?” he asked.

Virgil could already feel exhaustion creeping over him, and his limbs still ached from their earlier escape, but right now? There was no way he could say no to his little brother.

“Sure, buddy. I’ll need you to carry the backpack though, okay?”

Thomas nodded, and after Virgil had helped slide it over his shoulders, Thomas climbed up and linked his arms around Virgil’s neck. Virgil gripped Thomas’s legs and stood up with a grunt, taking a moment to readjust his hold now that he was standing.

“Ready?” he asked, and he felt Thomas turn his head to look behind them again. His chest ached, and he reached up and gave Thomas’s hands a squeeze.

“Yeah,” Thomas said eventually, laying his cheek against Virgil’s back.

“Okay,” Virgil murmured, grabbing hold of Thomas’s legs again and stepping away from their campsite, one thought repeating over and over again in his mind as he walked.

I’ll keep you safe, Thomas. I promise.

--- --- ---

Keeping an eight-year-old alive and safe in the woods during the apocalypse turned out to be harder than Virgil had anticipated, and it wasn’t long before he was completely desperate. He’d tried to replicate the traps his mother had set, and tried to fish using makeshift spears or reels, but he was either doing something wrong or had horrible luck, because the traps remained empty, and he was unable to catch more than one or two tiny fish per attempt. It wasn’t long before their meager food supplies ran out, and eating roots and leaves could only satisfy a growing boy for so long. Virgil was out of options.

So he found himself here, gripping Thomas’s hand and standing on the outskirts of a small town at the edge of the woods.

For most of their time living wild with their mother, they’d avoided towns. Areas that were once populated may have meant more supplies, but they also meant more chances of running into terminals, and Emma had wanted to avoid that at all costs, choosing instead to rely on her history of camping rough with her family as a child for survival.

But Virgil simply wasn’t good enough to scrounge up enough to feed the two of them from the forest alone, so here they were.

“Okay, buddy, remember what we’re looking for?” he asked, looking down at Thomas.

“Canned food, clean clothes, blankets, and medicine,” Thomas rattled off, and Virgil smiled.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said. “Now, anything you find, you bring to me first to check the expiration date first, okay? We don’t want you eating something and getting sick.”

“I can read the dates myself, you know,” Thomas muttered, kicking at the pavement. “I’m not a baby.”

“Right, of course,” Virgil agreed with a smirk. “You’re not a baby, you’re just a pipsqueak.”

He reached down to ruffle Thomas’s hair, but his brother ducked away.

“I am not!” he huffed, glaring up at Virgil, and Virgil held his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, whatever you say. Just let me look at the food before eating it anyhow, okay?”

“Fine,” Thomas grumbled, and Virgil held back a sigh.

The two of them had been on their own for just about three weeks now, and while some days were perfectly fine, other days there was an unmistakable tension between the two. It was worse when they were hungry, and with nothing but flower roots to eat for the past three days, it was fair to say they were pretty hungry now.

“Thomas?” Virgil said, kneeling down so that he was eye level with his brother. “Can you look at me?”

Thomas glanced over at him, and Virgil offered up a small smile.

“I’m sorry if I seem too...overbearing. You know why that is, don’t you?”

Thomas shrugged, and Virgil placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s because I want to make sure that nothing bad happens to you. I know I’m not always the best big brother to have, but all we’ve got is each other now. So if I...make some mistakes along the way, just know it’s because I want to keep you safe, okay?”

Virgil was expecting Thomas to nod and move on, so he grunted in surprise when instead Thomas threw his arms around Virgil’s neck in a suffocating hug.

“Okay,” he whispered, and Virgil didn’t care that he could barely breathe, he hugged his brother back just as tightly. “You were wrong about something though,” Thomas added, his breath tickling Virgil’s ear as he spoke.

“Oh? What’s that, buddy?”

“You’re the very best big brother to have,” Thomas mumbled into Virgil’s shoulder, and suddenly Virgil was blinking back tears.

“Thanks, Thomas,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling Thomas closer.

He was about to let go when suddenly Thomas gasped, his whole body tensing up. Virgil’s eyes flew open in an instant and he stood up on instinct, gathering Thomas into his arms as he did so. There, barely a hundred feet away ambling into the street from behind one of the houses, were two terminals. It didn’t seem like they’d noticed the two brothers just yet, but searching the houses on this street had just become last on Virgil’s list of things to try that day.

“Don’t make a sound,” he breathed in Thomas’s ear as he slowly stepped away.

He tried to turn back the way they’d come, but froze as he saw three more staggering towards them from that direction. He spun around, his eyes scanning the street, and his heart slowly sank into his stomach. There was no way out of this neighborhood that wasn’t blocked off by private fencing or didn’t involve going past the growing number terminals.

Well.

Not for him anyway.

“Thomas?” he said quietly. “Listen very carefully, okay?”

Thomas nodded, his cheek brushing against Virgil’s, and Virgil held his breath for seven seconds.

“I’m going to put you down,” he said slowly. “Then when I tell you, you're going to run straight down the street back the way we came, do you understand?”

“Virgil?” Thomas asked, and Virgil pried him off his neck, setting him on the ground and staring at him intently.

“Do you understand?” he asked, and Thomas’s wide eyes filled with tears, but he nodded. “Good,” Virgil whispered, squeezing Thomas’s hand.

The terminals were ambling closer now, and he straightened up. He allowed himself one more squeeze of Thomas’s hand, then he let go and opened his mouth to scream.

All of a sudden there was a *thwap!* sound that came from between the houses, and then the terminal closest to Virgil and Thomas had an arrowhead sticking out between its eyes. The creature fell forward and Virgil froze, too stunned to move.

“Woo hooooooo!” a voice yelled from the direction the arrow had flown from, and the terminals turned towards the new source of sound. “Perfect headshot!”

“Virgil?” Thomas asked, and Virgil dropped to the ground again, gathering his arms around Thomas and pulling him close.

Another arrow flew into a nearby terminal’s chest, accompanied by more cheers, then a wild looking man in a dirty green t-shirt with a white streak in his hair burst out onto the street, a machete gripped in his hand.

Virgil barely had time to wonder where on earth that maniac had gotten a machete before he was charging the terminals with it, squealing with delight every time his blade connected with a creature’s neck or head. It wasn’t long before every last one of them was no more than a bleeding corpse on the ground.

“Coast is clear!” he called over his shoulder, wiping his blade off on his already filthy pants. “Oh, no...wait,” he added as his gaze found Virgil and Thomas crouching beside a house. “Looks like we’ve got a live one, Dee!”

Another man emerged from across the road, a yellow beanie on his head and a bow and quiver strapped to his back, though Virgil’s eyes were first drawn to the large burn scar covering the right side of his face.

He approached calmly, ignoring the way Virgil scrambled to his feet and shoved Thomas behind him. He stared at the two of them for a moment, at Virgil’s narrowed eyes and Thomas’s hand clutching at Virgil’s leg before turning to his companion.

“Remus, put your blade away, you’re scaring them.”

The wild man, Remus, apparently, rolled his eyes but slid the machete into a sheath on his back and gave the pair of brothers a toothy grin.

“Whoopsy! Wouldn’t want to give off the wrong impression. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you, as long as you’re not a terminal or about to turn terminal or about to steal our stuff or hurt our friends or just be a dick in general!”

“Forgive Remus, that’s just how he greets new people,” the man with the burn said, rolling his eyes in a fond sort of way. “He really does mean no harm...as long as you don’t fall into any of the aforementioned categories.” He raised an eyebrow at the pair. “Do you fall into any of those categories?”

“We’re not thieves, if that’s what you mean,” Virgil growled, and the man raised his hands.

“No need for the hostility, how about a ‘thank you for saving me and my…’” he raised a questioning eyebrow at Thomas, and after another moment of silence, Virgil mumbled,

“Brother. I’m Virgil, and this is my brother.”

“I see,” the man said, then he surprised Virgil by squatting down so he was at Thomas’s eye level.

“What’s your name, little man?”

Thomas looked up at Virgil, who placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a small nod.

“Thomas,” he whispered, and the man smiled.

“Thomas? That’s a wonderful name. How old are you?”

“Eight,” Thomas said, then he puffed out his chest a little. “Almost nine.”

“Almost nine, my my! So grown up!” he smiled, then glanced up at Virgil. “And what about big brother?” he asked, standing up.

Virgil frowned, and pulled Thomas a little closer to his side.

“What’s it to you?” he growled, and the man quirked an eyebrow.

“Just wondering if big brother is grown up enough to take care of an almost nine-year-old all by himself.”

Virgil should have found the question insulting, but oddly enough, meeting the stranger’s eyes, Virgil didn’t sense any malice from him.

“I’m eighteen,” he admitted quietly, and the man nodded.

“Got anyone else in your party?” he asked, and Virgil clenched his fist at his side.

“No,” he said, forcing himself to keep his eyes dry. “Wouldn’t be trying to scavenge alone with an eight-year-old if I did.”

“Almost nine!” Thomas insisted, tugging on Virgil’s pants, and Virgil allowed a small smile to pull at his lips.

“Okay buddy, almost nine,” he said quietly.

“Right,” the man said, a smile flitting across his face as he looked down at Thomas. “Well, if scavenging alone on the streets with an almost-nine-year-old is getting a bit much to handle...I may have somewhere you two could stay for awhile.”

“You’re offering them a space at Eden?” Remus asked behind them, shaking his head. “Wade’s not gonna like that much, Dee.”

“Fuck Wade,” the burned man grumbled. “If he doesn’t like it, he can leave and they can take his bed. They’re just kids, Remus.”

“Hey, I didn’t say I had a problem with it,” Remus said shrugging. “And I’ll take any opportunity to fuck Wade. Not the fun kind of fucking, mind you, the violent kind.”

“Virgil, they said a bad word,” Thomas whispered, tugging on Virgil’s pants again, and Virgil didn’t know whether to attempt scolding the strangers or to laugh.

“Seriously, though,” the man called Dee said, turning back to Virgil. “We have a place out in the woods. Nice and secluded, hardly any terminals around, and plenty of people to fight them off in case a few do show up. We don’t have much, but we can offer you a warm bed and a roof over your head.”

It sounded tempting, Virgil had to admit. He could barely remember what it felt like to sleep under a roof, let alone in a bed, but he was skeptical.

“What’s the catch?” he asked. “What do you have to gain by taking two strangers in?”

Dee shrugged.

“We’re not a charity, if that’s what you mean. You’ll be expected to pull your weight around the place. But if you’re up for that, then you’re welcome to join.”

Virgil thought it over, but it didn’t take him long to come to a decision, really. He couldn’t ensure Thomas would be safe and fed every day if he stayed on his own. If there was even a chance that what these men were saying was true, Virgil would have to take it. He leaned forward, fixing Dee with a glare.

“Anything happens to him and I’ll kill you, you got that?” he asked in a low enough voice that Thomas didn’t hear.

Dee grinned, not unkindly.

“Got it.”

“Okay.” Virgil took a deep breath, then looked down at Thomas. “What do you say buddy, do you want to go somewhere safe with these, uh, gentlemen?”

Thomas seemed to consider it, staring up at Remus and Dee, then his stomach growled audibly.

“You have food?” he asked, and Dee chuckled.

“Yes little man, we have lots of food.”

“I wanna go then,” Thomas said, and Virgil smiled.

“Okay then,” he said, holding out a hand to Dee, who shook it. “We’re in.”

“Yay, new friends!” Remus said cheerily, bouncing on his heels. “This is gonna be fun, it’s been way too long since anyone interesting joined the camp, it’s no fun having only stinky Wade to share patrols with…”

Remus continued rambling on, about what exactly Virgil wasn’t sure, but he didn’t really care. He looked down at Thomas’s hand in his, then up at Dee who was watching the two of them with an unreadable expression, though it morphed into a smile when he saw Thomas looking up at him.

“Thank you,” Virgil mouthed at Dee, and the man nodded back.

Virgil couldn’t say exactly what he was getting himself into with these two, but he hoped that whatever it was, it would mean he could keep his promise. He slipped his free hand into his pocket, fingering his mother’s locket.

I’ll keep him safe, Mom. No matter what.

--- --- ---

Until the Sun Rises Taglist:

@the-permanent-fixture @maybe-i-like-the-misery @paint-in-flames @antisocialdragonenby @certified-demon @nonasidesstuff @idiot-annonymous @weird-spooky-broody-dude @ao-koshka @viana-dascolli @snail-giggles

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #deceit sanders #sanders sides apocalypse au #sanders sides au #ts fanfic #until the sun rises #story #blood #character death #minor character death #violence #apocalypse au #zombies #zombie au

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phoenixfell · 4 years

Text

Protecting Yourself & Creating a Good Experience

An unfortunate post necessitated by recent events. The unfortunate truth of reality is that we, as non-psychic human beings, are unable to determine with certainty the motives of other humans around us. If someone claims to have good intentions but are hurting you, are they simply presenting themselves poorly or are they lying entirely? This is a question you can never truly answer, but here I will guide you through some ways to protect yourself while being kind to yourself and others.

You may reblog this if you’d like.

Although this post was created specifically in response to the turmoil in the Avatar: The Last Airbender fandom, it’s not specific to this exact situation and the purpose is not to take a side. The purpose is to encourage everyone to do their part in ending hateful behavior and crafting a good community.

Contents:

0. Don’t send mean asks to people 1. Install an IP Tracker on your blog. 1.a (How to) Install an IP Blocker on your blog. 2. Curating your Experience 3. Making First Contact 4. Analyzing a Message 5. Fiction as Fiction VS Fiction as Reality 6. The Author’s Duty 7. Echo Chambers & Lateral Thinking 8. Accepting Differing Opinions 9. Good Intentions (Pave the Road to Hell) 10. Being Mean is Fun (so do it in non-harmful ways) 11. Morality (Personal, Community, and Legal)

0. Don’t send mean asks to people.

You know, I saw a post some time ago on the internet that basically said: Why do we see so many posts teaching people how to avoid being raped and virtually nothing telling people not to rape others? So, as obvious as this may sound, I’m going to give you a gentle reminder to not send mean asks to people.

Perhaps you are angry. Perhaps something else is bothering you. Perhaps you honestly feel like you are doing the right thing. These feelings are entirely valid and I understand. However, being mean to someone else on the internet is not going to solve anything. At best, it’s going to get you ignored and at worst, it’s going to actively escalate things.

If you feel down, depressed, or upset, consider this service: https://www.crisistextline.org/

US and Canada: text 741741 UK: text 85258 | Ireland: text 50808

It’s a confidential service that will help support you.

On the other hand, if you feel like you genuinely have a bone to pick with someone, take a step back. Get a cup of coffee, or tea; watch a YouTube video, and later on in this post we’ll discuss cooperative problem solving, the importance of word choice, and how to deescalate a situation.

1. Install an IP Tracker on your blog.

This is a very simple and completely legal process. The easiest way to do so is to sign up for Statcounter. This is a website for market and visitor analysis, but it does IP tracking for free, which is what we’re looking for. The site will even guide you through installing it. However--do not post it into the description. In my experiences, this does not work. Instead, click Edit HTML, search for <body>, and paste it directly underneath that.

For this to work most effectively, make sure that you have the Timestamps extension enabled within the inbox in XKit. If you do not have XKit installed, you can find directions on their Tumblr page, here: https://new-xkit-extension.tumblr.com/

1.a. (How to) Install an IP Blocker on your blog.

Although Tumblr claims to give you the ability to IP Block through the inbox by blocking anonymous asks, many people have expressed doubts that it actually works. Therefore, here’s an explanation showing you how to do it yourself. There are three steps to this, all taking place in the Edit HTML section we’ve left off in last section.

Directly below where the web analytics code above ends, paste this:

Directly below the previous command, paste this:

function ipBlock() { var ip = userip; //example: "0.0.0.0", "5.5.5.5", "3.3.3.3", var bannedips=[ "155.555.55.55" ]; var handleips=bannedips.join("|"); handleips=new RegExp(handleips, "i"); if (ip.search(handleips)!=-1){

window.location.replace("http://www.tumblr.com"); }

} </script>

You can customize this script in a few ways. First, bannedips needs to be the ip(s) you wish to block. You can add more by separating them by commas and enclosing them in quotes, as the example shows. Secondly, in the window.location.replace line, you can insert any valid address. Here are some suggestions I give people:

Tumblr homepage. Basic and effective.

A link to a Google search of something, e.g. How to not send mean asks on the internet

Your own tumblr blog, so they get stuck in a refresh loop

A similarly spelled but nonexistent blog, to give the illusion you deleted/moved

Finally, add onload=“ipBlock()” to your body tag:

That should be everything to get it working. If you want to test it, click the link in step two, copy and paste the IP address that is displayed into the bannedips, save, and visit your blog. If it’s working right, you should get thrown off.

If you don’t want your IP Block active, just remove step three and return your tag to <body>.

2. Curating Your Experience

Although Tumblr itself does not allow the functionality, there are ways to ensure that certain words do not appear on your dashboard. XKit has a blacklist feature which will hide posts containing certain words. Also of note is the wildcard feature, which is accessed by adding an asterisk after the word, ex.

nsfw -> Only blocks exactly that word and that tag nsfw* -> Will block any word or tag containing that phrase

However, I would like to gently notify you that there is significant research that actively avoiding content does more harm than good! Only you can know what is best for you, but there is a such thing as excessive avoidance.

3. Making First Contact

If there’s anything you take from this post, please let it be this one thing:

Always be kind. At first. Then tear them a new one if necessary.

The inevitable happens. As far as you can tell, you’re minding your own business on your blog. Your ask box lights up and you perk up, wondering which of your friends is reaching out to you.

Instead, the message is nasty, condemning you for your support of your favorite ship and the theme of your blog.

You’re upset, of course! And you have every right to be! You put a lot of time and effort into this blog and your ship, and to have someone so coldly butt in--you can feel the frustration mounting! Tears are glistening and your body trembles as you type up a strongly worded essay and--

Stop.

It’s okay.

Take a deep breath and step away from your emotions for a minute. Your emotions are valid-- but so are the sender’s.

Instead of starting a fight, be kind. It may hurt. You may not want to be, but I promise you it’s worth it. Here’s a template response:

Hi, anon. I’m really sorry that you feel this way about [thing] and will gladly take it into consideration in the future. Could you please tell me more about why you dislike [thing]? If you’d like to take some time to gather your thoughts, I’d be happy to discuss this issue with you.

Let me confess something. I don’t suggest this out of pure kindness. I suggest this because their response will tell you what you need to know. Remember how the intro talked about how people’s intentions are incredibly hard to figure out? This is a little trick I like to use to get them to play their cards.

There are three possible responses: They respond angrily, they respond kindly and respectfully, or they don’t respond at all.

In the first case, you may get something that resorts to expletives. They may call you names. They may tell you to delete your blog or any other amount of nasty things. It’s very likely that your very attempt at kindness will anger this person! This is a troll/bully whose sole interest is to get you upset and get themselves attention. At this point, you can safely delete and ignore the messages without any guilt.

In the second case, you have a person with a genuine grievance who just happened to address it poorly. Both of you have a duty to humanity to resolve the problem respectfully and politely. You’ve avoided escalating the conflict, you may learn something new and you may even make a new friend!

This also applies to reaching out to someone for the first time. You see someone doing something you don’t like. Oh, it just makes you blind with rage!

Again. I’m going to advise you to stop. Take a deep breath. No one responds well to name-calling and being condemned. There’s a few techniques you can use (see if you can spot them in the template message):

Listen to their opinions

Actively ask to hear their opinion

Ask for clarification

Validate the way they feel

Avoid casting blame

(These techniques work a lot in real life, too!)

Again, there are some genuinely scummy people in life! But, there are many, many more ignorant people. A gentle pointer goes much further than yelling and screaming.

4. Analyzing a Message

We’ve all been there. We’ve gotten a message and we’ve panicked--do they hate me now?! Is this a troll message or genuine criticism?!

Again. Relax. Push aside your emotions and focus on the logical words as they appear before you. Ask yourself if you are reading a tone that doesn’t exist. For example, not everyone puts active thought into choosing between “ok”, “Ok”, “okay”, “Okay”, “ok.” etc. Sometimes an ok is just that. An ok.

Break the message into parts. Find the logical structures and decipher them piece by piece. Someone who throws some very hurtful words into a message may indeed have a point, despite coming off as very crude. Accept that different parts of a message may mean different things. The world is very complicated and multifaceted. Try to avoid sticking labels to things.

5. Fiction as Fiction VS Fiction as Reality

I’ve seen a lot of arguments floating around recently that seem to think that these two ideas exist in a vacuum. It’s simply not true. The ideas are entwined intrinsically--Fiction is both fiction and reality. Fiction was created to mimic reality yet extend it far beyond what can happen in the confines of reality. What happens in reality impacts fiction and what happens in fiction impacts reality.

This is undeniable.

Both of these ideas exist, and as the author it is your duty to figure out what that means for you.

You cannot hide behind Fiction as Fiction to ignore your responsibilities as an author.

You cannot hide behind Fiction as Reality to promote censorship.

Both of these ideas are far too simple for the complicated world we live in. A complicated concept requires complicated solutions.

Every word you write has an impact on the people that reads it. This is the very definition of writing. We use writing as a tool to share emotions. Extend empathy. We use writing to make people cry, to make people laugh, to make people angry.

To deny that this impact exists is to deny what writing is.

But censorship is not an option. Censorship prevents these stories from being told, and quite frankly, no one should have the right to decide what story should and shouldn’t be told, regardless of what is in that story.

What is the solution then? There is no easy answer.

6. The Author’s Duty

When you put words before another human being, it becomes your responsibility as a moral individual to give your best effort into ensuring that those words have a positive impact on the individual.

This doesn’t mean not making them cry. Or not making them upset. It means ensuring that the morals you impart on them are sound and logical.

How one achieves this is up to you.

In general, tone makes all the difference. Writing murder in a positive light versus writing murder in a negative light can drastically alter how the audience perceives your scene.

Empathy, too, can help sway your audience. If your writing must involve racist police officers stopping a young black man, make sure you delve into how unfair this is, how terrifying it is, how this needs to change. Do not normalize it. Do not let it go by without a somber note indicating your awareness of the topic.

Sometimes, the solution is to simply avoid the issue. There are certain topics that only some individuals should write about, and that’s just how it is. This isn’t to say that you can’t write about it, but keep that writing private.

Most importantly, do your research, and ask for help and keep an open mind. It’s a grave responsibility and you may not do it right and that’s okay! Everyone is capable of learning. Everyone is capable of changing.

7. Echo Chambers & Lateral Thinking

An echo chamber is a phenomenon where an individual’s exposure to certain topics becomes self-enforcing because they don’t see, or actively avoid, differing opinions.

Echo chambers are also exactly what happens when a rift this massive opens in a small community.

When Orange blocks Green and starts posting about it, all of Orange’s friends decide whether they agree or not. The overwhelming majority, due to peer pressure, will agree. Many of them will then block Green and the users directly associated with them. In retaliation, Green will defend themselves. Because Orange’s group had already blocked Green, Green’s friends only seen Green’s point of view and will rise in response to the perceived slight.

What results are two heavily biased groups of users that refuse to communicate with one another and many individuals swept into the mess because they don’t wish to be isolated.

Even worse, it turns a complicated and multi-faceted issue into a binary issue. Either you agree with Orange or you agree with Green. The world is not this simple.

Instead, I would encourage everyone to practice lateral thinking of their own accord. I would encourage you to make your own decisions, rather than blindly supporting or condemning the people around you. Everyone has their own opinions about what is or isn’t okay, and that’s perfectly fine. Even your closest friends will have different opinions than you.

8. Accepting Differing Opinions

Once you’ve accepted these different opinions (good on you!) what do you do now? Simply put, the choice is on you! There’s a few options:

Quietly accept it

Respectfully debate it

Avoid it

Escalate it

The first two are pretty obvious, and the third one is where blocking people and the blacklist comes in.

The fourth one is extreme and only recommended for activities causing active, known, measurable harm to other people.

This involves actively seeking a legal entity to handle the issue.

Being mean to people on Tumblr is not a solution. Tumblr is not a place to pursue a justice agenda. There are bigger issues in the world, and I encourage you to find ways to make a difference that will actually be fruitful. Donate to charities. Extend yourself as support to victims. Contribute to research.

Changing the mind of strangers on the internet is not a good use of your time.

9. Good Intentions (Pave the Road To Hell)

This has been a phrase for a very long time.

What does it mean?

Well, I’ll offer my own interpretation.

It means that people often become absorbed with the idea that they are doing the right thing and forget to be mindful of the true consequences of their actions.

It doesn’t mean to not do good things. It means that good is relative and not everyone will find your actions good. It’s important to keep an open mind and realize that just because you think something is good, doesn’t mean everyone agrees.

10. Being Mean is Fun (so do it in non-harmful ways)

Yeah.

It’s okay. You can admit it.

Being mean is fun!

If it wasn’t fun, people wouldn’t do it! In fact, this very blog was created because I found that writing the character being mean was very enjoyable and cathartic!

So, if you find yourself tempted to be mean to people in your life, maybe find another way to get those emotions out. Hell, people on tumblr just might appreciate you taking up a nasty, villainous character that’ll tear their character up...

People love angst. You can take this bad thing and twist it into something good.

11. Morality (Personal, Community, and Legal)

Bringing this long post to a close, I would like you all to end by thinking about what morality really is. In particular, I’d like you to think about morality on three different scales: Your personal morality, the morality of the community you’re in, and morals as described by laws.

You’ll find that these morals don’t overlap.

Or, at least they shouldn’t. Please revisit section 7.

Being aware of morality in these three ways may help you determine how to proceed when going forward.

Do I personally agree with this? Does the community I’m in agree with this? Do the laws have anything to say about this?

None of these are right. Everything has different morals, and it’s up to you to find the exact opinions that fit you.

Don’t let people blindly tell you how you should and shouldn’t feel about a topic, and don’t let people bully you into changing your morals to fit into their perceived moral high ground.

But at the same time, be open. Extend yourself to new ideas. If enough people tell you that something is wrong, it just may be time to listen.

Be you.

Be unique.

Be safe.

And above all, be kind.

Have a nice night, everyone. I hope we can all work to a brighter future.

#{}.{{ OUT OF CHARACTER }}.{}#{}.{{ IMPORTANT }}.{}#ok to reblog. }}.{}

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diamondcamefromhell · 5 years

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Timeless love

Jaskier x Female Reader series part 1

[again a reupload because the first time, tags decided to not work, fun times ~] [ reuplaod x2 POOPDIE DOOBTIE tags just dont want to work these days, do they]

Summary: This is an AU, where Y/N is a young woman, trying to make ends meet with her freelancing writing job. She lives in her small Nottingham studio apartment along with her cat Apollo. Things change when one evening as she is waiting for her taxi, she meets what she thinks is Joey Batey, but the man in front of her is convinced he’s Jaskier, a character from her current favorite show. Y/N now has to figure out what to do.

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 1,413

Note:

This is just an intro kind of thing, setting the setting (wow, great wording me) and Y/N first meets Jaskier. I had this idea at work, and I really want to write it, I know it may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but if you find it interesting, you can ask to be added to a tag list! Other parts will be longer, posted every two days. I will continue doing other random imagines as requests are still open, but this will be a multi-part thing going on.

ALL feedback is appreciated. You can leave it anonymously on my ask page.

ENJOY! xxx

I click off Netflix, with a warmth filling my heart. I just finished rewatching The Witcher for a second time already. I get up to clean my room, gently humming Toss a Coin to Your Witcher to myself. I live a small studio apartment, a struggling artist is what I should call myself.

I specialize is writing, and as a freelance worker, I get to do works on anything, from how to grow your peas to why foot fetish is good for your health. A weird bunch of people come to me, influencers preaching nonsense. What I truly enjoy, however, is poetry. Writing art, not whatever people bark at me.

But I have to make a living. I made a promise to the stars I would make it on my own.

I glance back at my laptop. I enjoy my days off, treating myself to fine shows like The Witcher. I go play the song I was humming, and it fills my apartment, as I clean the kitchen counters and do the dishes. I decide that I might go out tonight, I need a break from this small room. I need to breathe.

I have this sense of adventure, wanting to do something - anything. Watching people go on adventures for eight hours straight makes my life seem so boring and bland. Much like Jaskier, I wanted to be heard. I wanted someone I could write about, and the world would be forced to listen. The world couldn’t help but fall in love, too.

Hours pass by, as I begin to get ready, applying gentle makeup on my face. I throw on a flowy skater style dress, that’s pale blue. I smirk remembering Jaskier wore pale blue, and then cuss myself out for getting so enticed in fictional character. I can fall for someone who isn’t real, not again. I’ve been the girl with a helpless crush on many characters.

Won’t happen again. I am content with being single. Plus, I have my cat. I glance around my apartment, looking for Apollo, my ginger boy I named after my favourite Greek God. I see him on a windowsill, staring out into the world. My beautiful boy. Roach to my Geralt.

“Be good tonight, Apollo.” I say, but the cat pays little to no attention to me. “Mommy will head out.”

I let out a sigh when Apollo doesn’t even look at me. Being a cat mom, you get used to it, but I prefer it when he’s in his happy mood. Then, I can’t get him off me. I whistle, making him look at me. His green eyes scan me, as if asking why I dared to disturb him.

“Keep our home safe, okay?” To my surprise, he meows in response, before looking out the window again.

This cat never ceases to amaze me.

I make sure to leave enough food and water for him, before I leave the apartment. The smell in the corridor makes my nose physically hurt, and I wonder if Dave, my neighbour, is passed out drunk somewhere again. I sigh, rushing from my third floor, to get relief of fresh air.

The streets are dim, but not too dark. I clutch my purse tighter, knowing there still are some sketchy people, even if it’s still light outside. I call a taxi, glancing around the empty streets. Until I hear someone grunt behind me. I turn on my feet, reaching for pepper spray in my purse, but get struck by a surprise.

Before me stands a man I just spend hours watching. Or the guy who plays him. Joey Batey. Dressed in full Jaskier attire, though. The red matching set he wore in episode six. He has his lute in his hands. Our eyes meet, and he looks scared out of his mind.

“Joey?” I ask, trying not to attack the actor with fangirling, who looks around, to see if there is someone else behind him. When he realizes it’s just us, he raises his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry?” He asks, looking around some more. Confusion paints his face as he looks at me once more. “Where am I?”

“Nottingham.” I say, but it doesn’t seem to clarify anything for him, as he raises his eyebrows even more.

“What is this Nottingham?” He takes a step back. “Who are you, exactly?”

“My name’s Y/N.” I raise my arms in the air, showing I mean no harm. “Joey, are you okay?”

“Who’s Joey?” His voice shakes. “I’m Jaskier.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Now I’m the one, raising my eyebrows. My phone beeps, informing me the taxi will be here in 5 minutes. Joeys, Jaskiers, eyes drop to the gadget, as he looks mortified.

“What is that?” He scoffs, taking a step back again. “You’re a sorceress. This is an illusion. Bloody witches keep ruining my days.”

“I am not a witch, Jo… Jaskier.” I correct myself but I can tell he’s not convinced. He grips on his lute tighter, eyeing me down.

“Where’s Geralt?” His voice is quiet. I feel dizzy, wondering if someone was smoking something funny up in my apartment building.

“Not here, as far as I know.” I squint, looking around, trying to see if I see Henry, dressed as Geralt just wondering the streets of Nottingham. My phone beeps again. Taxi is three minutes away. I see Jaskier stare at it again, so I slide it in my purse. “We can go to my place, you could rest, see if you feel better tomorrow?”

“I am not going anywhere with you, witch!” He puts on a brave face. I watch him turn left, as his face drops. He has no idea where he is. What exactly did he smoke?

“Jaskier. Please.” I plead, not sure what to do. I can’t pull out my phone and google ‘how to help people who are high off their mind’. That would probably give him a heart attack. “Trust me.”

“How can I trust someone who put me in this mirage?” Shit. I guess I will have to play along.

“I don’t know where I am either. I woke up in here, and I tried to find a way out. Until I just settled.” I say whatever comes to my mind as I see Jaskier slowly relax. How naïve of him, “If you are here too, maybe we both can figure something out. Maybe Geralt and Yennefer can help.”

“You know Yennefer.” His voice grows cold and I realize I messed up. I stare at him, not sure how to get him on my side again. The taxi is probably a minute away, and I cant leave Joey alone, not when he is this much out of his mind. But I cant take him clubbing either.

“I know the Continent. I heard your songs, Jaskier.” I plead, looking around. I don’t hear a car just yet. “Toss a coin to your Witcher, o valley of plenty.”

“You know my songs?” He seems to relax again, and I become anxious to get him off the street.

“Please come with me.” I plead, rushing to him.

Before he can respond, I grab his hand, dragging him inside. I hear him grunt, at what I can only assume, is the smell. My phone begins ringing, alerting that the taxi is here. I don’t stop, dragging him to the third floor. I struggle at the door, as my hands shake. When I eventually get the key in, I practically push him inside, locking the door behind us.

I take my phone out, answering.

“I am so sorry, sir. I changed my mind, my um, cat, started throwing up.” I blabber as Jaskier is fearfully looking around. “I might need to take him to the vet, I can’t go out. Please charge my card for your time to come here and have a nice evening.”

I hang up, my heart beating slower. If any sane person saw us, especially saw Jaskier, they might have called ambulance or police. Imagine the news.

“The hit show’s “The Witcher” star was found high out of his mind in the streets of Nottingham. Joey Batey, reportedly, kept saying he is Jaskier, calling everyone sorceresses.”

Wonderful. I look at him now, not sure how to refer to him. My phone dings again, and I look at it, swearing. But it’s a notification. From Instagram.

Joey Batey just updated his story. I open it, to see it’s a picture of him and Henry, with a caption ‘catching up before season 2’. I lift my head, swallowing hard. Jaskier turns around to face me, and my heart drops.

What is going on?

[PART TWO]

#who cares tags dont work anyway #jaskier #jaskier x reader #witcher #fluff #angst #you know the drill #like literally why am i even tagging this if it literally doesnt matter #oh well #guess ill die #witcher au #i really want for people to read this but i guess it wont happen #thanks tumblr #i hate it

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agelessrp · 4 years

Photo

yesterday, we posted our site buzz schedule, and now it’s time to kick off the first event! today, we’re opening introductions! with this first introduction, you earn a freebie face claim reserve. you must have your introduction posted before you can submit a reserve to us. we are also opening up posting requests! we figure it’s okay to do this early since you’re already going to be thinking of your characters, and we’d love for our community to already begin forming connections.

for more information on introductions and reserves, please look under the cut! ♡

RESERVATIONS

prior to sending in a reservation, you’ll need to fill out the introduction form below. once you have posted your introduction, you may send us an ask with your reservation. messages sent through the im feature or submit will be ignored. we operate on a first come, first serve basis. you are welcome to send in a back up face claim though just in case. there’s really no specific form to fill out, but if you do not provide the name you will be reserving under, we will not grant your reserve.

we also ask that you double check the reservation list for aliases. if someone else is already using the name you’d like to use, you can come up with a new alias or just add a number to it.

INTRODUCTIONS

make sure to post this form in our tag (#losagelessrp) as well as tagging our blog! just type the @ and start typing our url, and we should be able to ensure that we see all of your posts, even if tumblr is making the tagging system a struggle. if you don’t do this, we can’t guarantee we’ll see your intro and grant you your reserve. we will reblog your intro on the main page to help people connect with you ahead of time as well! you don’t need to wait to send in your reserve after we’ve reblogged it. if you don’t have a tumblr, you can submit your introduction to us. it should allow you to do that with an email.

name:

age:

pronouns:

timezone:

discord: truthfully optional, though it will help people connect with you!

what are you most excited for on los ageless?:

favorite types of plots:

favorite face claims:

favorite fictional character:

if you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?:

a gif that represents you:

#announcement #losageslessrp #intro

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outspokens-ar · 5 years

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new york’s very own devin bahar was spotted on broadway street in louis vuitton ankle boots. your resemblance to bella hadid is unreal. according to tmz, you just had your twenty-third birthday bash. while living in nyc, you’ve been labeled as being a workaholic, but also loyal. i guess being a libra explains that. three things that would paint a better picture of you would be messy silk sheets, red wine, and staying in on a saturday night. ( female & she/her ) + ( katie, 21, she/her, est )

I’m incredibly excited for this to be back so, hello, hello, I’m Katie and here’s a long ramble about my bby bean Devin !

BACKGROUND ;

Devin I. Bahar was born to Isabella Corine Bahar, an ex-model who retired when she got married, becoming far more attracted to the ‘rich housewife, bow down to me’ aesthetic than continuing to work, and Damian Ethan Bahar, a lawyer coming from a long line of family lawyers that were known for working important, high-profile cases.

The relationship she holds with her mother is strained due to the woman’s materialistic nature and her goal of marrying off her daughter for as much money as possible. Her eyes are always on a far bigger and shinier prize, no matter how good her life already is.

Her relationship with her father, miraculously, is healthier than the one she has with her mother, simply because she has absolutely no relationship with the male. He took off when she was younger, cutting off all contact with his daughter without a second thought and he hadn’t bothered to make any effort to try and have a relationship with her.

In fact, when she had attempted to start some form of a relationship with him after she turned eighteen, he completely rejected her and wanted nothing to do with her and it ripped her apart far more than she was willing to admit to herself or anyone else.

Even now, she isn’t sure if the complete cut in contact is due to her mother or if it was simply because she didn’t live up to his expectations, didn’t deserve his love. Either way, she has attempted to move on from it after the rejection, even if she still has that small hole in her heart over it.

Due to how strained her relationship is with her mother, she moved out of the household the day she turned eighteen, having managed to save up enough money to support herself, wanting to get away from her as soon as possible. However, the woman is still her mother and she does still attempt to have some form of a relationship with her, even if it sends her into a horrible mindset whenever she has a conversation with the woman.

CAREER ;

She first began modeling at the age of 16 for a commercial project. She also starred in the "Swan Sittings" by Lesa Amoore, alongside actor Ben Barnes, before appearing in "Smoking Hot" by Holly Copeland. She also modeled for Hanna Hayes' F/W 2013 collection, alongside various other commercial projects, including campaign work for Chrome Hearts during 2013 and 2014.

She was then signed to IMG Models in 2014 and her career started shooting off from there.

She never actually planned to become a model, she actually wanted to be a photographer when she was younger and planned to go to school for it. When it came to the point where her focus turned towards college, she ended up heading towards visual arts, fashion design, and graphic design. Out of that, she discovered her passion for clothing and that’s what began her journey of designing clothes, a project she started along with her modelling career.

Since the start of her career, she has won over a dozen different awards that range over her multiple different career-interests. Managing to make a name for herself as a model and fashion designer.

As much as she enjoys photography, she puts most of her focus onto modelling and continuing to add to her own clothing line full-time. This leaves photography for her spare time as more of a hobby, however, she does step in to help other high-profile photographers from time-to-time.

PERSONALITY ;

She identifies as pansexual and has always been very open to sharing and talking about her sexuality.

Has always put her foot forward to support charities, organizations, and projects that support the entire LGBTQ community. Along with making sure to put her focus into other charities and organizations, she’s always been the type of person to ‘give back’ and to put her support into the things she believes in.

Devin suffers from intense depression and anxiety. For the most part, you would never know, she does well but, every once in a while she goes into a deep rut. She won’t talk to anyone, doesn’t want anyone around, generally entirely depressing and doesn’t want to bring other people down when it comes to it. It takes a lot of trust and a special type of friendship for her to allow you to be around during that time considering, most of the time, she’ll go completely off the grid the entire time. However, at the same time, she openly talks about her battle with depression and anxiety. She doesn’t ever want anyone to feel alone and she tries to involve herself with as many campaigns and projects that involve supporting those with mental illness as possible.

Along with this, she also has this back and forth with affection. She either hates being touched or gravitates towards it, it really depends on her mental state at the time and the general relationship she has with the other person involved. It can be difficult, one day she’ll be ready to give you a bear hug and the next day, she’ll shake if you try to shake her hand.

On a more positive note, she tries to be as positive as she can, to a reasonable extent. She never wants to take life far too seriously but, obviously, doesn’t want to take it for granted either. She’s the type of person you go to if you want clear-headed advice but you don’t want to be talked down to at the same time. Or if you want ridiculous jokes while also getting some kind of pep-talk.

Really the mom-friend but probably won’t ever admit to being the mom friend.

EXTRA INFORMATION LINKS ;

blog’s full navigation;

you can find links to just about everything here.

full about page;

if you want statistics, a more in-depth background, extra facts, and some other things, you can find a bunch of stuff here.

spotify playlist;

a mess but, ay’ check it out.

pinterest board;

a highkey mess but, ay’ check it out too.

connections page;

my page with connection ideas, some are specific but most are really used as templates for plotting. i’ll also update this with any taken-current connections.

wanted connections tag & side blog;

i’m also terrible with coming up ideas so, I have a sideblog to reblog things for wanted connections ( the top link will lead to the tag ), but it also has a tag for extra muse posts if you’re interested.

This is officially too long for an intro so, I’m gonna’ end it there, but if there’s anything else you’d like to know about my bby bean that wasn’t on here or on any of her other pages, absolutely hit me up because I can ramble for hours tbh. And if you’d like to plot, 100% slide into my dms and we can figure something out, or if we had a plot before the revamp and you want to keep it — let me know and we can keep rolling with it ! Also, feel free to hit me up here or on d*scord @ katie#7666 for plotting and such !

#wealthyhq:intro #as always; i make no promises any of this makes sense

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missdaviswrites · 5 years

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Fic Writer Intro--MissDavis

I just got back from @ficwritersretreat2019, where we talked about ways to support and promote other fic writers. One idea was to write introductory posts for ourselves, then reblog each others’ posts to spread the word to all our followers. Below I have tagged the other writers who went to this year’s retreat, but even if you’ve never been, feel free to introduce yourself and your own writing. If you tag me, I'll reblog your post, too!

I’m MissDavis and I've been writing BBC Sherlock fic since shortly after s3. Most of my work is Johnlock with some occasional Johnlockary thrown in for good measure. Here’s the link to all of my writing. If you’re looking for something specific, here’s a breakdown by ship and length, along with summaries from AO3:

Johnlock:

Long fics (50-100+K):

Breakable rated E After John is seriously injured, Sherlock struggles to figure out how to help him, keep himself sane, and maybe, just maybe, get their life back to the way it’s supposed to be. Part 1 of the Breakable Not Broken series.

Full Court Press rated E College basketball AU: Sherlock is the team’s best shooter. John is the team’s best ball-handler.

Side Effects rated E WIP, currently 10/17 chapters now complete! Sequel to Breakable. Life is a lot better for Sherlock and John than it was a year ago. Yes, John still can't walk and Sherlock is still on antidepressants, but they're married now, and almost everything else is back to their version of normal. They have a dog. Sherlock's solving cases again. But when Moriarty learns of their marriage, he escapes from prison and takes it upon himself to make their lives miserable. Is Sherlock really up to the challenge of catching a criminal whose only goal is to make sure that he and John don't live happily ever after?

Mid-length fics (10-35K):

Chaperones rated T "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie’s class and you won’t have to share a room with a stranger?“

Christmas With You rated T Watch Sherlock, John and Rosie over the years as they celebrate the season as only they can.

Welcome Christmas rated T Join John and Sherlock at Baker Street as they celebrate Rosie's first Christmas and beyond. From Rosie crawling around the flat as they tiptoe around each other en route to their first kiss, to a happy retirement with a young grandson who wants to be just like Grandad and Papa, this fic shows how Sherlock and John celebrate Christmas together through the years.

Breaking Christmas rated M Join me in some established relationship Johnlock as I attempt to make Sherlock and John participate in some Seasonal Fucking Cheer. Ficlets that are part of the Breakable Not Broken series.

So This Is Christmas rated T Sherlock, John and Rosie celebrate the Christmas season with the rest of their family. It's not always perfect, but they all do their best. Most of the time. AKA the Christmas ficlets that include Eurus.

Clutter-Free rated E 5 times John made Sherlock clean up the flat and one time he didn’t have to.

Short fics (2K-9K):

The Librarians of Baker Street rated E Sherlock is a cataloguer who's forced to work the reference desk once a week. Which he hates. Or at least, he used to hate it, until the library hired a new reference librarian. Guess who?

Just a Touch rated E John has trouble falling asleep these days. There’s one thing he can do that always seems to help, but he’s stuck in this hotel room with Sherlock and doesn’t think he’ll get the chance. How will he ever find relief and a good night’s sleep?

If You Lead Me rated M Enough time has passed since Mary’s death that John is finally ready to start a new relationship. With Sherlock, he hopes. But given Sherlock’s stated aversion to romantic entanglements, John is a bit worried about being rejected, and doesn’t know how to proceed. Fortunately, there’s someone who can help him along.

Sherlock Is Actually a Cat Person rated E John brings home a kitten. Sherlock is not okay with it.

The Last Time Alone rated E But it wasn’t enough, not for John. He needed more. He needed someone to hold besides a child, and someone to kiss on the lips and not just the top of the head. He needed sly looks across the dinner table and to know if he put Rosie to bed early he might emerge from her room to find a candle lit and dessert served just for two.

The One Where No One Proposes rated G Sherlock inherits his parents’ wedding rings. It’s ridiculous that they mean something to him. He doesn’t plan to do anything with them. Sentiment.

Equal Footing rated E Sherlock had certainly never shown any interest in women’s footwear, or in seeing John appear as anything but fully male. But five extra inches—that opened up all sorts of interesting possibilities.

Very short fics (under 2K):

Dirty Laundry rated E If they got far enough along, John knew he would stop noticing the steady clanking thump of the washer, but so far he’d been unable to keep himself from being distracted.

A Boyfriend in Need rated G John's in medical school now, but it's Sherlock who's taking care of him today. A sequel to Full Court Press.

Rosie and the Rainbows rated M Sherlock isn’t exactly opposed to Rosie joining the Girl Guides, but he doesn’t really see the appeal, either. It ends up being much worse than he imagined.

To a Better Year than Last rated G After the life-altering events of the last twelve months, John is more than ready for the new year to begin. Short sequel to Breakable, from John's POV.

Training rated G Sherlock had terrible running form; they would have to work on that later. For now, John just ran, happy that for once Sherlock was the one chasing after him.

Honey Bee rated G Rosie gets stung by a bee. It’s not a big deal, except that it is.

He Sees You When You're Sleeping rated T Sherlock and John return to the Holmes’ family home for Christmas to find that Mummy has redecorated.

Wrong Disc rated G Two years later and DVDs that Mary made before she died are still showing up every now and then. Thankfully.

The Cute One rated G "This post says that whenever there are three people, there must be one who's the clever one, one who's the cool one, and one who's the cute one.” Rosie looked from John to Sherlock and back again. “So which of us is which?”

Better rated G Sometimes the world just calls for a bit of comfort. A 221B ficlet.

Let's Go on a Family Holiday (& Then Not Leave the Room) rated T Sherlock looked up, noting that John’s bare chest lacked the glossy sheen of suncream that he had been anticipating. A 221B ficlet

Johnlockary

Could Be Fun 36K words, rated E This is the first fic I started writing when I got into the Sherlock fandom. John, Sherlock and Mary embark on a new stage of their relationship. Nine chapters of smut and snark, canon-compliant through series 3.

The Life We Choose 16K words, rated M Based on the "30 Days of Sherlock Challenge,” a series of ficlets from the points of view of Sherlock, John, Mary, and, of course, Alice Watson: I have three parents. Some of my friends have three, too, or even four, but none of them has three who all live together, which makes me the luckiest out of all my friends.

Imagine the Christmas Dinners 15K words, rated M A series of Christmas-themed ficlets, featuring Sherlock, John and Mary over the years, with appearances by Baby Watson, Mummy Holmes, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade.

Better Off Together 9K words, WIP, now complete at 16K! Rated M What if everyone lived happily ever after? Yes, I’m still writing this, maybe 1 or 2 chapters left to go!

An Afternoon Interruption 7K words, rated E Still the only John/Sherlock/Mary/Sally fic on AO3!

The Clothes You Once Wore 4K words, rated E Mary took a deep breath and conceded to herself that maybe she did want to put on the assassin outfit and tie him to the bed and have her way with him. Maybe Sherlock had just known it before she did. Possibly my favorite short fic I’ve written.

Got You Pegged 2K words, rated E Sherlock could think of six different ways they could make it fit using common household items he had in the flat, but he didn’t think he could wait that long.

The Space Between 2K words, rated E This one is really more Johnlock than Johnlockary. Written as part of the Come At Once 24-hour porn challenge.

Safe Not Sound 2K words, rated E "Oh, come on. I'm willing to put up with all this 'gun safety' nonsense you and John are insisting on, the least you could do is give me what I want in return."

Brand New Day 1500 words, rated T Breakfast, babies, and three people trying to do their best.

While You Were Sleeping 1K words, rated E “We—” Mary started and Sherlock pressed his fingers a bit harder against her leg. She inhaled. “He’ll wake up.”

Storage Space 695 words, rated M Sherlock has his own space at John and Mary’s house now. The first fic I ever posted!

Bed rated T It’s a bit tight, but they all fit. A 221B ficlet.

Other Ships or Ship-free

All We Have 5K words, rated T, Gen. My angsty, pre-series 4 interpretation of what might have happened to a third Holmes brother.

One Night, Twenty Weeks 4K words, rated E, Mary/Molly. Mary has a problem. Molly helps her out.

Actually, the Baby Sits on You 3K words, rated G, Gen. Sherlock watches the Watsons’ baby for the first time.

Tea for Three 2K words, rated E, Mrs. Hudson/Mrs. Holmes/Mr. Holmes. Mrs. Hudson had been with many men over the years—older, younger, single, divorced, married and seeing her on the side either secretly or openly—but this was the first time she had ever been with a man while his wife lay right beside them.

Tiny Little Pieces 1594 words, rated G, John/Mary. They watched to the end of the DVD; Sherlock smiled and winked at them and John flicked off the screen again. “So. That’s Sherlock.” He gave her a smile that was even more forced than the one Sherlock had just displayed. “It’s funny. I’d almost forgotten what he sounded like.”

Not in the Job Description 1,505 words, rated E, Sherlock/Sally. The case has Sherlock stumped, and John’s not around to help him focus. Someone has to step up and help him clear his mind.

Once He Is Gone 1K words, rated T, Gen. John is fine at Sherlock’s funeral. Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s been to funerals for so many of his friends. Why would Sherlock’s be any different?

When Mary Met Sally 766 words, rated G, Gen. Sally stops by Baker Street with a case but finds out that Sherlock isn’t home.

Kick Gen, rated G. Mary is pregnant, John’s not speaking to her, and Sherlock’s still in hospital. A 221B ficlet.

-------------------------

Tagging: @hubblegleeflower @pipmer @pippn-frodo @totallysilvergirl @daringlydomestic @prettyrealisticjohnlockfanart @cumberqueer @addictedstilltheaddict @disaronnus @weneedtotalkaboutsherlock @quantum-sparrow @blogstandbygo @amindamazed @fearlessdiva930 @onwallsiwrite

and tagging *anyone* else who wants to share--really, feel free to promote your fic!

#fic writer intro #sherlock fic #johnlock #johnlockary #my fic

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overloveds-archive · 4 years

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❛ ✶ ( kelsey merritt, cis female, she/her ) — did you see elle vera walking around campus earlier? i hear a lot of people talking about the twenty one year old junior. from what i know, they are studying english and are a part of sigma epsilon chi. they come across as +gracious but also -inflexible, which makes sense because on their instagram ( @cinderelle ) it says they are a taurus . when i see them, i think of missing someone you haven’t met yet, an empty stomach filling up with butterflies, staying up all night and telling secrets you swear you’ll keep.

alright hello i’m b twenty three and i never fuckin learned how to write so i am sorry about this. i’d link you to a wanted connections tag but i got one post n that won’t be any help n i do have a biography written for elle but most of it revolves around her secret so i won’t link it yet either :p haha so far so good amirite?? you probably will figure it out anyway once you read the rest of this post... under the cut is me doing my best to be vague, bare with me because i can’t wait to start writing with u guys.

statistics.

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: elle winnifred vera 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒: ellie, vera 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌: kelsey merritt 𝐀𝐆𝐄: 21 𝐃𝐎𝐁: may 1 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍: taurus 𝐌𝐀𝐉𝐎𝐑: english 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘: sigma epsilon chi 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍: greenwhich, ct 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄: cambridge, ma 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: student 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: maxwell vera, elizabeth pruitt-vera 𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: kevin vera, lily vera 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄: gracious 𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄: inflexible 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑: beige 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍: autumn 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆: fake smile by ariana grande 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊: wuthering heights 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄: clueless 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒: anna karenina, annette hargrove

breakdown.

elle has a good home life, it’s not the best but whose is?? her father is a successful businessman and her mother is a small time fashion designer. she has an older brother and a younger sister that she doesn’t have the best relationship with but she tries.

the family has money, but they’re from new money and her dad is constantly working and her mom still has this dream that she’s going to be the next coco chanel so she’s always away working on that dream.

her dad is very strict with her brother because he’s the first born and they have expectations for him to take over the business and they never put that kind of pressure on elle. her brother resented her for being cherished and loved unconditionally by their father and as much as elle tried growing up to bond with him, he wasn’t having any of it.

after the they had elle, her mother was ready to get back into the fashion industry but less than a year after having elle she was unexpectedly pregnant again and her dream was once again put on hold.

elle’s sister was a tougher baby to care for and that on top of having to stay home, her mother blamed her sister. this put a strain of elle’s relationship with her sister too because her sister was jealous of how great their mother treated elle. her brother and sister connected over the bad relationships with their parents and evidently isolated elle.

elle doesn’t blame her siblings or her parents for the lack of relationships with her brother and sister, she doesn’t really understand why things are the way they are, and she’s still trying to forge a bond to this day.

the next 4 bullet points are taken from her biography because i don’t know how else to word it.. again i am sorry... :p regardless of not having the best relationship with her brother and sister, it was easy for elle to make friends. she’s beautiful, elegant, and her family has money— anyone would be stupid to turn a friendship with someone like her down.

elle’s father also talked her up with colleagues. before she could speak for herself, she already had this pristine reputation. you’d think she would hate living up to that and yet it was the opposite, she loved being known as her father’s sweet daughter because that’s exactly who she is.

elle is lucky enough to be the person she wants to be; kind, compassionate, and never taken advantage of, thanks to the reputation her father provided her. everyone views her as perfect and she lives up to the title.

at home, she’s admired and all the other girls are constantly comparing themselves to her. and thus, she has it easy. so easy that she’s grown comfortable living a certain way of life. end scene.

a lot of people come to elle for advice especially since she’s been with her boyfriend for 5 years and she loves being that person for those she cares about but shes also that person that gives out advice and never takes it

speaking of her bf... he’s a grad student and he’s known around campus but he doesn’t come around very much which i’m sure is suspicious to elle’s friends but he’s the guy that is like my studies are more important than going to a stupid party with u.. and elle understands because she’s elle

she’s not exactly a pushover but she does like to make people happy. but if it’s a serious matter she won’t be afraid to say something that the person doesn't want to hear. she never does with her bf though because she believes he’s right... and doesn’t want him to break up with her

because her bf doesn't come around much she usually attends events to take care of her friends or she just stays home. it’s hard to convince her to do things without him. gags

she’s an english major and because her parents adore her they don’t mind that she’s picked a career path that won’t eventually lead to big money and honestly they’re not worried about her being able to provide for herself since she has her bf whose family is rolling in money and they assume they’ll end up together and she’ll be taken care of.

elle picked english because she loves it. she loves reading and escaping her own problems through the stories in the thousands of books she owns. we love healthy coping mechanisms.

i think that is it?? i know i ALWAYS forget something but if you decide to plot w me i’ll make sure to let u know anything i haven’t added here.

i CAN link a social media page that isn’t much but it’s something...

for the smart people who skipped to the end here is a quick summary: she’s the poster child for the perfect rich girl and it’s not even an act! she’s that person who you meet and realize that home can be a person and not a place. legend

now i am going to go finish reading your intros and laugh as i think back to the mess that this is <3

#𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑: 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚 › intro.#bu.intro #also my theme takes 30 years to load #i have a lot of things to be sorry abt #i'm so sorry

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whereisten · 5 years

Photo

Traces

Summary: Violet is a blossoming filmmaker with her own demons. When man of the night Taeyong comes into her life, she realizes that demons are very much real. She will have to endure the consequences of trusting the one person she should’ve steered clear from.

Genres: Romance, A Pinch of Smut, Fluff for Days, Comedy, Drama, Angst, Thriller, Horror, Fantasy

Cast: Taeyong, Yuta, OC (the bad bitch that you’ll get to know as Vi)

WARNING: Mentions of Death, Language, Alcohol, Addiction, Violence (this writing in no way represents the members mentioned, all events are fake).

________________________________________________

CD 1: Intro - Track 1 - Track 2

Word Count: 7.7k

It was a busy Friday night at BOSS Karaoke Bar, my dad’s place. He was out for the night and entrusted his official manager Hani and assistant manager me for the weekend while he was out of town for a bar owners’ convention in Newark.

BOSS Karaoke Bar was located smack dab in the middle of Sunset, Florida. Sunset was a coastal, metropolitan town with high rises and trains running for hours on end. Celebrities and other prominent figures resided and visited all the time so it was always a pleasant surprise to see a popular basketball player or an international music artist come to BOSS. It definitely helped business boom and thankfully, BOSS was stronger than it had ever been.

Dad built the business from the ground up from the time he immigrated to the States. He worked as a dishwasher, a waiter, and a bartender among other odd jobs until he was able to attain citizenship and attend the Sunset University for Business Administration at the age of 28. He met my mom around that time and after his graduation, mom had me and a year after that, she had Janine. My dad worked his way up in management at bars and restaurants all over Sunset. Then, he discovered karaoke when mom suggested it for one of their date nights. And well, the rest was history.

“Hey, Vi. Do you think you can take over for a bit while I make a few phone calls?” Hani asked me. No doubt Hani was going to juggle her several gentlemen callers for the weekend and she had to iron out some details.

“Sure!” It wasn’t even that crazy at the moment. I checked the upcoming reservations for karaoke for the next hour and saw that there were only two parties I needed to check in. It was 10:30 PM and sometimes there were walk-ins.

A few minutes passed when Hani returned to her post. “What do you think? Should I give Joshua or Hansol a shot?” She asked as she adjusted her sky high boots, earning an admiring look from two girls who were headed to the restroom.

I’d been through this with her several times and while it was humorous, I wanted the best for her. “You know I can’t answer that.”

Hani laughed, music to everyone’s ears. “Sure you can! I’ve been wracking my brain over it for weeks now and they’re both starting to get...on edge.”

“What…”

“Let’s just say the three of us aren’t welcome to Whole Foods for the next month.”

“Really?” I shot her an incredulous look.

“How was I supposed to know that they both liked to buy their orange juice from the same place I do?”

One of the karaoke rooms, although muddled, became significantly louder as the group all sang along to “Sorry Not Sorry” by Demi Lovato.

I thought about Hani’s dilemma. I never understood love triangles. They were fun on TV shows but in real life, I couldn’t imagine being torn between two people. Torn between two snacks at a vending machine? Yes. Torn between two movies? Absolutely. But two different people? No. I think I would just know when I got to meet that certain someone.

“Hani, if you can’t decide between the two of them, then maybe...you don’t like either of them enough to really decide?” I asked.

A group of men and women came into BOSS and approached the front desk. At the forefront was an attractive dark brown haired man with piercing brown eyes and a jawline that could probably slice me up into delicate slices if I rubbed him the wrong way. Something about him had me on edge.

Maybe it was just the jawline.

He smiled at me and my thighs pressed harder against each other. Well, that was new. It had to be a record to turn someone on with just a look.

His smile made me feel like he just ripped off my black top and slacks and he liked what he saw.

Uh oh.

“Hi,” he said. Jesus, his voice was like velvet.

“Welcome to BOSS,” I croaked. Get it together, I told myself.

From the corner of my eye, Hani chimed in, “I think you can handle this, Vi. Toodles!” She sauntered off to the employees’ lounge.

I turned swiftly to Hani. “Think about what I said!” I doubted she heard me.

The man laughed, almost like he was in on what Hani and I were talking about.

“Sorry,” I said as I reluctantly turned back to him. He was so pretty it hurt to stare at him for too long. Not like I had the nerve to do so. I felt like I would turn to stone from maintaining eye contact for too long. Once I let myself meet his eyes...he had a hold on me. I couldn’t explain it. “Do you have a reservation?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” He said as he proceeded to eye me up and down. Shamelessly.

My cheeks, typically flushed because of genetics, were blazing now. Hopefully, my foundation concealed that fact but by the trace of humor in his expression, I knew I wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Do you guys have any EXO songs?!” One of the man’s friends, a bombshell in a wine red skin-tight sleeveless number, asked me. She was buzzed but friendly enough.

I answered. “Yes, we do. Would you guys like to make a walk-in reservation? We have rooms available.”

The man nodded. “Yes, please. We would like the VIP lounge experience if that’s possible.” The VIP lounge experience included unlimited drinks and food platters of their choice. It also included up to 3 hours of the karaoke room.

Of course, they were rich. Or maybe they were just really treating themselves. Dad reminded me that there were people who were willing to pay a lot for the VIP experience and we more than embraced it for the business. “Okay, awesome. How would you like to pay?” Anxiety had me a little less than thrilled that there were 10 people that may want to split checks but the man interrupted my inner reverie.

“Under Taeyong Lee.” He pointed at himself and grinned, possessing a boyish charm in that instant.

I was thankful I had my computer as a distraction because I was about to melt under his stare. He was paying for the whole group? “All right. That will be $1,480. How will you be paying?”

Taeyong handed me his American Express black card. I took it from his hands and incidentally, his fingertips touched mine.

His conspiratorial smile never left his face as he watched me charge his card.

I printed out his receipt so he could sign the merchant copy of it. I handed him his card, the receipt, and pen for him to sign and feared he would touch me again when he handed them back. I was about to get a nosebleed, I could feel it.

He swiped the receipt and pen back across the counter to me. “Thank you.” He smiled more softly.

Well, that was a little better. I was still turned on but I wasn’t about to come in my pants. He was probably a huge flirt at whatever conglomerate he worked at because, getting a better look at him, he wore a well-fitted black suit and tie. He was a little too formal for a karaoke bar. Maybe he was coming from somewhere else? I wondered where-

“Um...Violet?” He read my name tag.

I blinked a few times in succession. “Y-yes?”

“Are we good to go?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah! Let me take you guys to your room.” I got the key to VIP Room 3 out of the secured drawer and stepped out from behind the front desk.

“Follow me, please,” I said, quickly so I wouldn’t keep questioning if Taeyong was eye fucking me.

I could feel him right behind me as we walked through the dark hall, illuminated by a subtle starlight effect and some strobe lights shining from the karaoke rooms’ windows.

We reached the VIP lounge. I unlocked the door for them and motioned for the group to enter. Once Taeyong headed in, I let out a breath of relief as the rest of his friends walked in. They were all attractive, with luminous skin and elegant clothes. They were all from high society and my guess was that they came from some charity function.

“Okay, so you guys are set. There are thirteen mics and there are three song selection tablets on the table by the TV screen. The menus are also available to you. I’ll have ViVi come and take your orders in the next few minutes. So make yourselves comfortable and enjoy!” I went through my awkward spiel, only to realize Taeyong was the only one paying attention.

Some of Taeyong’s friends yelled out “thank you” and “gamsahamnida”. I nodded as I left and shut the door. I sighed as I pressed my back against the wall adjacent to the door. I could finally process what happened. I knew that wasn’t all in my head. Taeyong was flirting.

And it probably meant nothing to him.

I walked back to the front desk where Hani was speaking to a few regulars. They left shortly after.

“He was interested.” Hani said conspiratorially.

“In the drink selections, maybe.” I checked my phone for notifications. I had a countdown app installed in my phone. I was two months away from attending the Thorne Gala. That sent a ping of excitement down my spine.

“Come on, Vi. I could sense the electricity.” Hani placed her hand on my shoulder.

“Some would say my awkwardness is palpable,” I shot back.

Hani rolled her eyes. “I bet he’ll come visit us before his reservation ends.”

“Oh, well that’s not fair. He’ll probably have a question about the-”

“Excuse me,” a third voice interrupted.

Like clockwork. Taeyong was back. I wondered if he meant to look at us like he wanted to hook up or if that was just a default setting for his features.

And then he smiled. I felt a sense of warmth radiating from him that I didn’t expect. I gulped.

“How can I help you?” I asked.

Hani muttered. “Eager to ask, aren’t you?”

I elbowed Hani’s side while Taeyong spoke, “I think this is yours.”

He brought his hand out to show my mood ring. The left half of the ring’s center was shaped like a crescent moon and the right half was shaped like the sun. In between the sun and moon was the gem that changed colors. My maternal grandmother gave it to me before she fell ill and shortly after passed. I rarely took it off.

Then I recalled I was fiddling with the ring in my hands and must have slipped it into my pants pocket. It must have fallen out while I was taking Taeyong and his friends to their room. That was odd. It was second nature for me to always put it back on my right ring finger.

“Oh, wow thank you.” I reached my hand out to take the ring back. He dropped the ring in my hand. I was so relieved to have it back in my grasp, putting it right back on. I glanced up at Taeyong. He blatantly stared. “I have to be more careful.”

He nodded. “You should.”

Hani lifted her eyebrows. “How did you know it was hers?”

Taeyong widened his eyes as I came to that realization.

“Lucky guess.” He shrugged immediately after but there was a trace of mischief in his eyes, if my suspicions were correct. And with that, he returned to his room.

A few hours went by and Taeyong’s group was the loudest of the bunch. It was to be expected. They just wrapped up an awe-inspiring performance of Ring Ding Dong by SHINee.

Hani yawned as she organized some files at the desk. I was tapping my recently done nails against the marble.

I was surprised that Hani didn’t press me about my nerves and how I wanted to see Taeyong again. The look he gave me when we asked him about my ring was an indicator of something. I just couldn’t figure out what that was.

Hani exclaimed. “Holy!”

I yelped. “What is it?!”

“Your little boy toy just showed up on my timeline.”

“My little…” I began skeptically as Hani shoved her phone to my face to show me a picture of Taeyong attached to a Korean news article she found on Tweetness.

“Lee Taeyong is the heir of Seoulmate Entertainment,” Hani explained to me. The article highlighted on Taeyong’s US adventures. Before Sunset, he was in Los Angeles. Before LA, it was Nashville. Before Nashville, it was New York City. He was a busy bee.

I gasped. “Wait, Seoulmate Entertainment? As in South Korea’s number 1 entertainment company? That Seoulmate Entertainment?”

Hani nodded. “I knew he looked familiar. I just didn��t think he would ever come to this part of the States. He and his inner circle usually go to Los Angeles. That’s the American hub for K-pop.”

“Then what brings them to Sunset?” I wondered.

“Sunset is a growing town with a lot to offer. And there was probably some shindig downtown. Did you see that Oscar de la Renta tux?” Hani’s eyes had a glimmer in them. Fashion was everything to her. She knew all of the brands and kept up with all of the latest lines. I knew the difference between a skirt and a skort and that was enough for me.

I had no idea how Hani knew Taeyong’s tux was Oscar de la Renta. I was still processing that he was a prince of the K-Pop kingdom. If not, the prince.

Fantastic. Another intimidation factor.

Just as we were digging deeper into the Taeyong topic, we heard a crash from one of the rooms. I jumped.

Hani huffed. “It better not be one of the champagne glasses.”

We were used to hearing glass break every now and then. I never enjoyed it. In this business, though, we had to be prepared for some drunk and rowdy customers.

I left my post to see what all the fuss was about when I heard glass break again and discovered that it was coming from Taeyong’s group. A wave of dread came over me.

I opened the door carefully, hoping no one else would throw anything.

I got a good look at the room. There were two broken champagne glasses on the floor, alcohol splattered all over. One couple was making out in the corner. One group was arguing while another was singing an OST. And in the left corner of the room, Taeyong was comforting a girl seated beside him. She was completely wasted, slumped over but still breathing. Taeyong looked tense as he ran his hand up and down her back. Once he saw me, his expression darkened. Like he was caught doing something I shouldn’t have seen.

I asked, “Everything okay? I’ll have someone come and clean up the mess. I have to charge the broken glasses to your account. Please step away from the-”

“No, that’s alright. We’re okay for now...We’re leaving soon. I’ll pay before we leave. I’m sorry about this.” He tried to sound casual, shrugging, like it was just one of those days that happened every now and then. How it couldn’t be helped.

And I could tell he wanted me to leave. I could see the pleading in his eyes.

I eyed the group warily. “Alright then…”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you.”

I returned to the front desk. “Well, Final Fantasy and his friends are having quite the night,” I said.

“Oh? Do tell,” Hani prodded.

“It’s a party in there all right. One girl, especially, is drunk out of her wits. And there’s some drama. I wouldn’t know what it’s about but if you have the balls to go and check again after Taeyong told me to skedaddle, be my guest.”

“Sounds like Master of the Universe is hiding something,” Hani said.

“If something breaks again, I’m gonna have to do something. I don’t want to charge him for more broken property or call the cops.” I could feel the tension in my jaw from clenching my teeth.

“Trust me, he’s not worried about paying for a couple of champagne glasses. And he can make bail, too,” Hani pointed out.

That didn’t impress me one bit.

After another hour, now 1:30 AM, nothing else had escalated. When I was about to ease up, the group exited the VIP lounge. I could hear some of them arguing in Korean. Taeyong was directing his frustrations at another nicely dressed man who had the supremely drunk woman on his back. The man yelled back at him and nearly lost his balance.

Why would any of them trust a drunk man to carry a drunk woman? It was ridiculous.

Taeyong made an attempt to pull the woman off of the man’s back but the man went ballistic, exclaiming what I would guess were profanities.

The man finally dropped the girl and I was close enough to catch her. Hani was right beside me to help her up. The man was squaring up for a fight with Taeyong as he started throwing punches in the air and finally landed one neatly in Taeyong’s perfect face.

Hani exclaimed in Korean. What she said must have been along the lines of “get the fuck out”.

The man was about to throw another punch when Taeyong grabbed his fist and twisted his arm. Taeyong pulled the man to him and muttered a few things into his ear. The man slouched as Taeyong released him. The man was now silent and oddly enough, compliant. I frowned, more confused and frightened by Taeyong.

Taeyong’s disturbed demeanor shifted as he apologized to us. “I am so sorry about my friend. He had too much to drink tonight so he lost his cool for a moment. He should be fine now. We’re leaving. May I?” He nodded towards the drunk girl.

I eyed him and his friends warily. “Is she safe with you?”

Taeyong nodded. “She was a little in over her head tonight.”

“No kidding,” I replied. I winced when the girl shifted in my grasp. I needed to lift weights more often.

“I’ll drive her home,” Taeyong insisted.

“How do I know you will?” I demanded.

“What do you mean?” His eyes got a little bigger and I was even more confused about his true nature. All I saw was contradiction upon contradiction.

“I don’t know if she’s going home with someone she can trust.” As enticing as Taeyong was, I knew better than to blindly trust a pretty face.

“I’m a man of my word, Violet.” There was no trace of the humor and charm he carried when he walked into the bar.

I didn’t relent. “Why should I believe you?”

He sighed and deliberated for a few seconds. “If it puts your heart at ease, come with me.”

“What?” I asked.

“You can drive with us. Make sure Miri gets back to her apartment and I don’t take her to my sex dungeon.”

I wouldn’t put it past him to have one.

“Taeyong.” I gave him a pointed look.

“Will you?” His eyes were doe-like.

“I-“ I started.

Hani warned, “Vi, you just met the guy.”

My shift doesn’t end for another 15 minutes. And to go with two strangers? Granted, one was drunk. But as for Taeyong...

If I looked up “lethal” in the dictionary, I’d be sure to find his picture.

I wanted to make sure this girl made it home safe, though. And beneath my hostility and nerves, I hoped to get a further glimpse at the enigma before me.

I asked Hani. “Will you guys be okay to close without me?”

Hani was about to protest again but stopped. “Text me, please. Your dad would kill me if anything happened to you.”

I nodded. Hani let Taeyong and me carry Miri. Taeyong was on Miri’s right and I was on her left. She was a little off-balance considering the height difference between Taeyong and me. It was a good thing I wore my wedges today or else we would’ve looked even more ridiculous.

I looked up at Taeyong. “All right, here’s how it’s going to go. We go in my car. You give me the directions to Miri’s place.”

Taeyong raised a slit eyebrow but he accepted. “You got it.”

Hani warned, “Be careful.”

I smiled at her reassuringly, “Nothing is going to happen, except...Taeyong?”

He adjusted Miri on his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“That will be $150 for the broken glasses.”

“It’s bold of you to go out with a stranger, isn’t it?” Taeyong asked from the backseat. I pulled out of my parking spot in the parking garage adjacent to BOSS. He provided me with Miri’s address that I put on Good Maps.

I rolled my eyes. “This is well past my comfort zone, sure.”

“Can I go home now?” Miri asked.

Miri sat in the passenger seat. She was now more tipsy than far gone. She had long thick brown hair that fell way past her shoulders, down to her hips. Her gorgeous bronze skin was adorned by the reflection of the street lights and neon signs.

“Don’t worry. Taeyong and I are taking you home,” I said.

She grinned. “Aren’t I lucky? What happened to Baekhyun?”

I assumed Baekhyun was the drunk guy who punched Taeyong.

Taeyong replied, “Shownu took him home. Baekhyun will text you in the morning.”

Miri nodded. “Sounds good.”

I raised my eyebrows at this exchange.

I could feel Miri stare at me. “I don’t know you but...I like you.”

Taeyong chuckled at that.

My eyes never strayed from the road but I replied. “I’m Violet. I’m just making sure you get home safe.”

“Thanks Violet...Taeyong’s a nice guy...Stuck up but nice…”

Taeyong scoffed at that.

“Well, that’s what you get for wearing that suit,” I muttered after we reached a stoplight and met his stare in the rearview mirror. His eyes were sharp and alert. Like he wouldn’t dare look away from me. It sent pleasant shivers down my spine, I admitted.

Taeyong asked, “What was that?”

I blushed. “Nothing..”

Miri giggled. “Keep your eyes on the road, Violet. Or else Taeyong is gonna land you a ticket.”

I faced the road again. Taeyong cleared his throat. The light turned green again.

“So Violet...how do you know Taeyong? Are you maybe one of his…” She started giggling.

“His…?” I wondered. Was I one of his playthings?

Taeyong cut right in. “No, Miri. She’s not. We met tonight at BOSS. She works there.”

“Oh yeah! You were so nice! And you’re really pretty.” Miri said as she laid her head against the window. She fell asleep not too long after.

One long agonizing minute passed. All the while, I had music quietly playing in the car from my recently played playlist. The song was “Amigos con Derechos” by Reik and Maluma.

Taeyong exhaled like he was just as tense as I was. “So Violet, what’s your story?”

“My story?”

“I’d like to know more about the pretty stranger in the driver’s seat.”

I nearly sputtered. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I do. You caused quite the scene back there. So...I’m intrigued.”

Did he really just say that?

“Oh, I caused a scene?” I asked a little too quietly.

“Yes?” He sounded unsure now that he heard how annoyed I was. It was refreshing to hear him like that. Contrary to how he seemed: confident and owning any space he existed in.

“It was you and your friends that made a mess,” I said pointedly.

“What? I paid for it.” What a response.

“Are you kidding me?” I laughed.

“What?” He was even more confused.

“Why make a mess if you don’t have to? Do you know how much of an inconvenience it is for the staff to clean what you left behind and recover the losses from those champagne glasses?”

“I paid for those and I apologized. I’m so sorry again.” He meant it.

“Your friend was a real jerk. Being so irresponsible. Not looking out for her.” I nodded towards Miri. If I could get that jerk alone, I’d give him a piece of my mind. Even if he didn’t speak a lick of English.

“Violet, calm down.” I dared to think Taeyong was nervous.

“I hate what alcohol does to people who don’t know how to control their intake.”

“Violet.”

“And your other friends? None of them seemed to care. Someone should’ve told her to slow down.”

“Violet, stop. I get it.”

“You guys should be more careful next time.”

“Violet,” he said, emphasizing every syllable, snapping me out of my reverie.

“What?”

“Calm down.”

“I’ll calm down when you wake up!” When those words left my mouth, I remembered something I wanted to shove back into the recesses of my mind.

“I’ll calm down when you wake up!”

“If I’m asleep, Violet, then I never want to wake up!”

I didn’t realize I gripped the steering wheel so hard then.

Miri whined. “Can you keep it down?”

I winced at my outburst and pulled over to breathe.

Taeyong gave me a few moments before he carefully whispered, “Violet?”

In. Out. Dr. Mendes told me to breathe.

“Violet, are you okay?” He asked.

In. Out. I felt the pressure on my chest leaving.

I rubbed my hand over my face. “Yeah. I...got carried away.”

Silence followed. “Someone to Spend Time With” by Los Retros was playing quietly on the stereo now.

Taeyong started, “You’re right, you know...About my friends and me.”

I laughed weakly. “That’s music to my ears.”

“I’m an ass.”

I played with my hands, avoiding his gaze. Embarrassed. Even if Taeyong was an ass, I didn’t think it was right of me to snap at him like that. “Go on.”

“I’m sorry.” His tone was somber. Repentant.

He sounded much closer than he did so I turned around. He leaned on the driver’s seat. My arm bumping into his hand, which he’d placed on the shoulder of my seat. Like he wanted to touch my shoulder but was smart enough not to.

Taeyong’s face was very close to mine. The frustration I felt quickly transformed into a different kind.

“Thank you,” I said, my cheeks aflame.

He smiled warmly. His sharp features softened to show a cuter and more innocent side of him. He didn’t feel the tension I felt, it seemed. And that disappointed me.

I didn’t know what was up with me. Maybe my hormones were just out of control. It was just a few days before my period. Maybe it was because I haven't been with anyone in five years.

I put the car in drive. We were back en route to Miri’s house.

“So...Do you still want to know my story?” I asked, aiming to lighten the mood.

“Absolutely,” his voice was dripping with honey.

“Okay. But in return, you have to tell me about yourself. And what happened with your pal. Baekhyun, was it?”

He went silent when I said “Baekhyun” but then he relented. “Fine.”

I began, “Well, I was born and raised in Sunset. I went away for college in Atlanta before deciding to move back.”

“Why did you come back?”

“I wanted to work on my filmmaking career and earn money on the side.”

“Filmmaking?”

I nodded. “I’ve been into filming and editing since I was thirteen. I put those dreams on the backburner when I went to college. It was my junior year when it hit me. I wanted to film. I wanted to make something I could be proud to call my own. To see my own movies on the silver screen? That’s my dream.”

“That’s great. What are your movies about?”

I answered quickly, “Love.” I was a little too eager on that delivery.

Taeyong hesitated. “Love?”

“As flawed as people are, they deserve love. And there’s just so many kinds of love. Between friends. Family. Lovers. I want to focus on the ups and downs of all kinds of relationships. I want my audience to connect with what I create. If a thirty five year old man wants a love story about him and his podiatrist, I would make it.”

“A foot doctor?” Taeyong laughed.

“Everyone has a story, Taeyong.”

He pondered. “You’re right.”

I realized that I really poured my heart out to him then and proceeded to turn bright red. “Sorry, that was a little much...”

“Nah, it wasn’t. You really lit up when you were talking just now. I like seeing you that way.”

I wanted to turn around and lock lips with him.

He continued, “I’m happy for you. It’s beautiful...Your dream. You know what you want.” He sounded almost melancholic. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say his case was different.

I coughed as Miri tossed and turned in her corner. “Thank you.”

He grinned at me through the rearview mirror. “Now you can ask me some personal questions.”

I laughed at that. “Oh, I will. So...Where did you study? And what’s your biggest dream? It’s only fair you answer these since I exposed myself to you.”

We were both stunned to silence when I realized my choice of words.

I added, “You know what I mean.” My blush was just going to be my best friend tonight. Might as well own it.

“I attended Seoul University, majoring in business administration and music composition.”

I remembered the article Hani showed me. It was no wonder he was studying both if he was going to inherit his father’s company. “That’s awesome. You’re versatile. There’s so much you can do with both majors.”

“Yeah...Honestly, I prefer music composition. My father required I major in Business Administration.”

“I see...So are you expected to take over your father’s business?”

He asked, “How did you know about my father’s business?”

I choked. “Well...Hani and I looked you up...On GoodSearch.”

“Oh?” Why did it sound like he was smiling?

“Hani thought you looked familiar so we looked you up. But don’t worry we didn’t go too deep into it. Who knows what we could uncover?”

“What are you implying?” He asked, suspicious.

“Oh, nothing at all,” I teased.

He laughed. His laugh was rich and warm. Not like the teasing laughter I’ve heard.

He continued, “But yeah, since my parents found out I was a boy in my mother’s womb, my fate was sealed.”

“That’s...intense.”

“You don’t know the half of it…”

And with that, there was another silence. What could I say to that? It wasn’t like I could relate. Plus, he didn’t seem like the type to enjoy pity.

I said, “Alright, next topic…What is your biggest dream?” I cringed. Maybe that question was too cheesy. But what other way was there to say it?

“I don’t have a damn clue.”

I gaped. “Nothing?”

“It feels like I’m on autopilot. Like I’m living by a schedule and I’m just expected to show up wherever the schedule tells me to.”

I hesitated but gave into what I really wanted to know. “You don’t want to inherit your dad’s company...do you?”

He thought about it for a moment. “I’m not sure, Violet.”

We pulled up to a high rise in North Bay Village and parked in the guest area.

Taeyong said, “Alright, Miri, you’re home! Wakey wakey.”

I tapped Miri on the shoulder and she groaned, “Five minutes, Baekhyun.”

Thanks Miri for reminding me of why exactly I couldn’t trust Taeyong in the first place.

Taeyong got out of the backseat and opened the passenger door.

I got out of the driver’s seat and stood beside Taeyong.

I asked. “How are we going to do this?”

Taeyong replied, “Let’s grab her arms and go from there.”

So we did. Miri laughed. “Guys! That tickles!” She finally stood up.

“Can you stand on your own?” I asked.

She attempted to walk and wobbled so Taeyong and I caught her before she face planted against the concrete. “If I lean on something, yeah…”

Taeyong and I gave each other a look.

“You take one side and I’ll take the other,” he said.

“Sounds good.”

We got Miri to put one arm over my shoulders and the other over Taeyong’s. “You guys are amazing. Thank you sooooo much for bringing me home. I promise to invite you guys over soon and make you some lasagna,” Miri said as she nuzzled Taeyong and then me.

I laughed and asked, “Where are we going?”

“Miri, what floor are you on?” Taeyong asked.

“Sixteenth!” She exclaimed.

“And...you have your keys, right?” Taeyong eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, they’re in my purse. Can you check for me?” Miri asked me.

I checked her neon pink handbag. Thankfully, the keys were there. “Yup.”

Miri yelled, elated. “To the sixteenth floor, gentlemen!”

We stopped at Miri’s doorstep as she fumbled with her keys. She handed them to me. “Will you be a doll and open my door?”

I unlocked her door and we brought her in.

“Jesus Christ, Miri. I thought you weren’t going to be home for another two hours!” A female voice piped up from one of the rooms.

“Sorry to interrupt your ME time, Barbara! Your solo stage. Your me, myself, and I!” She erupted in laughter. “Do you want to meet my friends?!”

“Fuck, Miriam. You have people over?!” Barbara didn’t sound thrilled.

We helped Miri to her bedroom and she plopped onto her bed.

Miri said, “Thank you guys. I’m sorry for all of the trouble…”

Taeyong shook his head. “As long as you’re okay.”

“Do you need some water or anything?” I asked her.

“Nah, it’s fine. Babs will take care of me. She owes me.”

Taeyong and I walked out of the high rise. As we walked back over to my car, I remembered his interrogation wasn’t over.

“So what happened tonight? Broken glasses. Yelling. A fight that almost made me call the cops on your asses.”

Taeyong met my eyes for a moment before staring off in the distance again. “Baekhyun had too much to drink and lost control. We’re not the best of friends but we run in the same circles.”

“Is he Miri’s boyfriend?”

“I wouldn’t say that. They’re pretty casual. I got pissed because he wasn’t really looking out for her like he should’ve.”

“I see…Well, you did a good thing.” I felt like an ass for thinking he didn’t care about her. He wasn’t perfect but I shouldn’t have written him off the way I did.

He put his hands in his extravagant pockets. “Yeah?”

“You were quite the gentlemen,” I admitted.

He chuckled. “You went out of your way to help a stranger. It was very noble of you.”

“You think so?”

“Now don’t act modest, Violet. You know you did a good but stupid thing tonight.”

I was floored. He was right about that.

Up until this point, Taeyong didn’t show any signs of snapping my neck and leaving me for dead. But I wouldn’t confirm that until he got out of my car when we headed back.

Taeyong continued, “You let two complete strangers into your car. A personal place...” He moved himself closer to me. “And you don’t even know me.”

“That was stupid. But...you don’t seem that dangerous to me. Foolish? Yeah. But dangerous? I don’t think so.” Oh, if my parents could hear me at that moment.

We reached my car. He paused and got a good look at me. “It’s sweet of you to think that.”

Taeyong sat in the passenger seat this time. He gave me his phone. “Play anything you want. Do you like K-Pop?”

“Do I? Oh ho ho let’s see what you’ve got.”

I scrolled through his Berry Music streaming app and was shocked to find SHINee’s upcoming album.

“No fucking way. You have access to SHINee’s new album? It doesn’t come out for another two weeks!”

Taeyong beamed. “Being my father’s son has its perks.”

“God, would it be okay if we listened to it?”

“My library is yours, Violet.”

We drove, heads bobbing to another SHINee triumph. We talked about what SHINee songs were our favorites and talked more about music. We liked a lot of the same artists. And somehow ice cream came up in the conversation and he admitted he had the biggest sweet tooth. It was so contradictory to his persona but I liked it. The ride back was faster, I was disappointed to realize. The traffic, unfortunately, died down real quick.

But when the last song played, the atmosphere shifted. It was a sensual song. I didn’t need to know Korean to know that. It was in Taemin’s voice. And the infamous bedspring sound effects SM was known for. And the English phrase: stay with me tonight.

The head bobbing stopped and I felt like the oxygen was quickly escaping from my car.

We reached a stop light that I knew ran pretty long so I took the chance to look at Taeyong.

I regretted it.

Because he was staring. Hard. His eyes were lustful and he gave me a half smile. He bit his lip and I wondered if we could pull over into the Target parking lot and just be wild animals.

A car beeped me out of the temptation. The stop light was green now. Eyes back on the road.

We arrived back at the parking garage. It was almost empty. BOSS was closed and everyone had gone home. I parked beside Taeyong’s Maserati and shut the engine off.

“So…” I began.

“So…” He mirrored.

“I guess this is...goodbye.”

“Yeah.” He looked sad, defeated even.

I forced a smile because even I was supremely bummed at not seeing this gorgeous specimen again. I felt like tonight was the beginning of something. What that was...I didn’t know. But I wanted to.

“Thanks for the ride back, Violet.” And he just stared at me. Kind of expectantly.

I avoided his stare. “Good night.”

“Good night, Violet.” He opened the passenger door gently. Was I crazy or was he slowly getting out of the car?

He got out of the car and shut the door.

Oh, fuck it.

I pulled my keys out of the ignition, shoved them and my phone in my front jeans pockets, and got out of my car.

“Taeyong!” I yelled. My voice echoed in the garage but I didn’t care. He was about to open his car door but I ran up to him before he could.

“What’s up?” He asked.

I got up on my tiptoes, pulled his face closer, and kissed him.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I just had to know what his lips would feel like. If there was a connection there.

Instantly, he took my face into his hands and deepened the kiss. I allowed his tongue into my mouth and our tongues were fighting it out over who could die from arousal. I ran my hands through his hair and he was caressing my upper body. He cupped my ass and picked me up off the ground. He moaned and so help me, it was the hottest thing I’d ever heard. I could feel his member rising against my pelvis. And I knew he could feel how soaked I was.

I needed air so I relinquished myself and Taeyong groaned.

Traces of my lipstick were on his lips. I giggled as I wiped them off.

Taeyong looked impatient. “Can we-“

My phone vibrated in my pocket. Taeyong, his hands very fond of my ass, glared at my phone as I grabbed it from my pocket.

It was Hani. Crap, I never texted her.

I answered, “Hey.”

Hani almost destroyed my right ear drum. “Hey? HEY?! Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve been worried! Are you okay? Where are you?”

Taeyong watched me, the lust very palpable. Radiating off of his luminous skin. The typically unflattering parking garage lights couldn’t do anything to this man.

I gulped. “Hani, I’m so sorry! I’m okay. I was dropping Taeyong off at his car. We’re in the garage.”

Hani let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God! I could kill you!”

Taeyong adjusted himself and he was getting very needy. Everything about him was.

“I’m going home now, don’t worry.” I said, lying. Half feeling bad and half wanting to hang up.

“Is he still with you?” Hani asked, not hiding her disgust and annoyance.

I froze before I let out, “Y-yes.”

“I’m just gonna take a wild guess. You’re gonna hook up with him. If not, you’re in the process...And I’m interrupting.”

I hesitated.

“So which one is it?”

“It’s the second,” I admitted.

“Oh...Oh!!!!!” Hani laughed. “So...I’m guessing he checks out then?”

I blushed. “Yeah.”

Taeyong gave me a playful annoyed look. He could hear everything Hani was saying.

Hani sighed. “Text me when you get home. Don’t stay out too late.”

“All right. Good night, Hani. And I’m sorry again.”

Hani tsked. “Just don’t leave me hanging. As long as you’re okay, I’m happy.”

“Thanks Hani.”

“Good night, purple moon.” She said suggestively, using one of my nicknames. She hung up.

Taeyong grabbed my phone out of my hands. He stuffed it in my pocket. He pulled me closer and initiated a kiss.

He was so strong and commanding with every movement. He held me tightly and securely. I knew he wouldn’t let me fall. It was like I didn’t weigh much to him. He was stronger than I imagined.

He moved his lips down to my neck, peppering it with kisses and looking up into my eyes with so much affection. And then he sucked at my neck. I moaned so loudly that I could hear the echoes. I took off his jacket and he chucked it back to the hood of his car. I ran my hands all over his abdomen. Rock solid to no one’s shock. I began unbuttoning his dress shirt and could see tufts of his chest hair peek out. I wished my hands could work faster.

And then, once again, we were interrupted. Taeyong’s phone rang. He grabbed it out his pocket while handling me with one hand.

Taeyong spat out something in Korean before he answered.

Answering, he bit out, “What?”

Whatever the other person said on the other line, it annoyed Taeyong.

He responded in Korean, leaving me confused and impatient. Now I knew how he felt when Hani called. Only I felt worse because I didn’t know what he was saying and I didn’t know what was going on.

Taeyong ended the call and he looked bothered.

“You okay?” I asked him.

His features relaxed when he looked at me. “I could kill Shownu.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I have to go,” he said. “Baekhyun’s being a lousy drunk.”

“Oh.” I looked down, not wanting him to see my disappointment.

He tenderly took my chin and lifted my face up to look at him. He kissed my nose. “I’m sorry.”

I sighed. “Me, too.”

He put me down and he walked me back to the driver’s seat of my car. I got in, fastened my seat belt, and turned on the engine. Taeyong hung out right outside the door, lingering.

“I guess it wasn’t meant to be,” I said, “But...it was nice while it lasted.”

“I don’t think nice is the right word,” he said as he gave you the same look he did during that SHINee song.

My throat dried up. “You should go.”

“Not until you give me your number,” he said.

I did a double take. “Really?”

“Yeah.” His sexy smile graced his well-sculpted face.

“O-okay.”

We exchanged numbers. I gave him my phone so he could add my number. He even took a picture of himself for his contact photo, making a goofy face.

I laughed and did the same when he gave me his phone. I looked at my selfie. I cringed. I should’ve just tried doing a cute pose.

Taeyong was very close to me as I carefully analyzed my photo. “Cute.”

I yelped and he laughed.

“Relax. I don’t bite...Unless you want me to,” he said.

“Ooookay! Well, here’s your phone back!” I avoided his glance. “I gotta get going.”

“Okay.” His smile softened. He gently took my hand and kissed it.

“Sweet dreams, Violet.”

;;

Intro: Epilogue

(A/N: the following conversation is in Korean so think of this as a translation)

Taeyong was cursing himself for leaving Violet to go tend to his idiot friends. And Baekhyun wasn’t even a friend and acquaintance was too nice of a title to bestow on such an unworthy person. He parked in the driveway of his beach house in Sunset Shores and entered. He went up the stairs to Baekhyun’s room.

Taeyong knocked. Shownu answered, noticing how Taeyong’s hair looked disheveled and how flushed he looked. He didn’t want to pry. He motioned for Taeyong to come in.

Baekhyun was inside, his arms handcuffed to the headboard of the bed. The handcuffs were made to keep people like Baekhyun from moving too much. “Taeyong, you little shit. Get me out of these.”

Taeyong sneered. “After what you did tonight? Nearly blowing our cover? What were you thinking?”

Baekhyun stammered. “Miri said I could so I went for it! There’s no issue.”

“I had to have someone break into the surveillance room and manipulate the footage, you moron.”

“Taeyong-“ Baekhyun started.

“You need to get it through your thick skull that we can’t afford to let anyone know the truth about us. Not if we hope to claim what we want.”

Baekhyun laughed. “What we want? This isn’t about any of us. This is about your vendetta against your ex.”

Taeyong moved closer to Baekhyun and pressed the cuffs harder against Baekhyun’s skin, causing him to cry out in pain.

“You want my protection? A piece of my wealth? Then do as I say, Hyung.” He spat the last word, knowing it humiliated Baekhyun to be subject to his junior.

Taeyong turned to Shownu, who waited for his instruction.

“Shownu, he’ll be fasting for the next week,” Taeyong said.

Shownu, not really one to display intense emotion, blinked in surprise. Baekhyun yelled, “Do you want to die, Taeyong?”

Taeyong smiled. “You should be asking yourself that.”

Track 1 (Coming Soon)

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