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shesawriter39049 · 3 years

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|FEVER| M|

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

About- Namjoon just has a kink for letting you do whatever the hell you want with him...Whether that be putting him in a hot pink suit shirtless! Or, telling him he’s a good boy as he fucks you into oblivion!

OR- Namjoon and yourself hooked up 5 months ago when the boys were in London on Tour, and you were the creative director for there British GQ & Harper’s Bazzar Cover! Now, months later he’s prepping to release his second mixtape “RM vs Rap Monster”. Opting to go a complete 360 from his first release Mono in all realms. So, with that being said BigHit thinks he needs someone with a little more... “umph” Take a wild guess as to who they call...

WC:1.2k (Sneak peek)

WARNINGS: Switch OC (Top & Bottom...but there's no real dom/sub tones here) Service top/power bottom Namjoon, praise kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex(Back shot), come play, dirty talk, light choking, light overstimulation, (This is lowkey a little softer than it sounds) The OC kinda leads this, but Joon isin’t the cliché “sub” he just likes letting her take control.

NOTE- Just my take on the OG cliché Artist X Stylist AU (Though she’s more of a full package, Art Director/Stylist/Photographer ETC) I have tried to add some minor elements to make it a little more realistic. I will say I typically stray from “Idol-verse” just because if we’re being real, the cultural difference alone sometimes stunts my creativity...BUT I just had a little fun with this one...so I hope you all enjoy it. Also, I don’t go into much physical details but in my mind regardless of race, aesthetic wise the OC is a huge contrast to what he’s use to which is part of her appeal. I picture a tatted Barbie of some sorts...

SIDE NOTE: No shade, but shade, I was lowkey inspired to write this bc I have very strong opinions about the creative team at BH....

*** Let me know if you guys want the full thing or not...I kidna flaked on posting because it is such a cliché lol

SONG- FEVER DUA LIPA FT ANGELE

~~~~~~~

“Well, it’s a yes for me” Eyeing him in this Hot pink-fitted Burliti suit, which you paired with a very sheer black Arnar Mar turtle neck. The minute you saw the piece on the runway you’d been dying to get it on someone with melanated skin, and it just so happens, the boys are fresh off the US leg of their stadium tour! So, lucky for you, baby boy’s been in the sun a lot, and Namjoon’s currently a sinful shade of brown and you're totally here for it…

Then to top it off, the mesh material of the turtle neck creates the perfect silhouette around his offensively toned chest, outlining the muscles sinfully. Eternally snorting at the way the fans are gonna thank and curse you out all at the same damn time once they see the looks you’ve pulled for this man!

And yes, you had your crew bring extended shades of foundation and concealer, because his face and neck will match if your name is going to be attached to these damn photos!

Head tilted to the side as you silently observe the way he rakes over his reflection in the mirror, it’s a sixth sense you’ve acquired as a stylist at this point. Half of your job is essentially being a hype man/self love coach, real shit, a lot of these artist aren't always as...confident as one may think!

And just like clockwork Namjoon runs his palm down his thighs, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on his pants for the umpteenth time in the span of oh I don’t know 30 seconds? Which in turn prompts you to say….

“You look good Joonie...” Musing over your second glass of Don, the compliment was genuine, tone warm, soothing even, not a hint flirtation insight because that wasn’t your motive. You weren’t trying to get him flustered you’re just trying to gas him up a little, you wanted to see Namjoon get alittle cocky and feel himself!

Ears perking up like an overgrown puppy, head whipping in your direction “Yeah?” The way this man’s eyes just lit up like the soul skyline. I just-goddamn, an almost bashful smile toys on those plush lips of his, and you can’t help the way your chest flutters with nothing but fondness.

“So fuckin cute” Flutters off your lips, as you hide a smile of your own behind a half empty whine glass. The delivery was so faint it almost go lost in the background music floating through the air. However the slight flush hitting his cheeks let you know Namjoon heard you whether he wanted to admit it or not!

”Mmmhmm, the color looks fuckin insane against your skin, not to mention, the way everything's going to pop once we tone your hair a little! “ Eyes drinking him in from head to toe, though there was nothing suggestive playing within your iris. Very much aware of time and place and right now your genuinely looking respectfully! Seeing if any alterations are needed, making sure you like where everything sits along his frame. Making notes in your phone of places you want to pin and adjust later...snapping a couple shots here and there.

Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the lapels on the blazer “But like-I mean-I- dont’-It doesn’t look like I’m... trying too hard or anything?” Brows furrowed in the center of his face, jaw tight, wincing slightly at his own words, almost as if he was afraid of your response. The vulnerability within his delivery was more than evident, and no matter how common this is with artist, it’s still just as devastating! Regardless of how much he tried to play it off as if he was just making casual conversation, you can see how blatantly uncomfortable he is . Gazing back at you wide eyed, and uncannily exposed, pointing at the outfit in question. Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the the blazer, switching posses subtlety trying to get a better feel for the suit.

You stayed silent for a minute, taking the time to actually process before speaking which is rare, not gonna lie. Gaze piercing as you hop off the bed, wine, and accessories in hand, swaying closer. “It’s fashion”. The baited pause almost implied that’s all you had to say, as if one-word was self-sufficient, and in your mind it was...but you knew better than to just leave it at that.

“Art at its finest Mr. Kim” You smile something a little devious, and he flushes even deeper as you slowly start to invade his space eyes locked with him meaningfully. You can physically see the shift, the closer you get, Namjoon starts fidgeting slightly under your gaze but he doesn't back down.

“It gives you room to play, create...it’s something that let’s us connect to people without saying a damn thing.” Suddenly the hand that wasn’t holding your alcohol has become a prop, flailing around haphazardly as you spoke, pointing at the various pieces hanging on clothes racks in your suite! The penthouse has essentially been transformed into your own personal walk in closet for the next 5 or so days! “It’s a statement. A opportunity to tap into a side of yourself that maybe you can’t always verbally articulate to the world around you! More importantly, it’s supposed to be fun, it’s literally something that can be removed within seconds! I mean we all have to wear clothes so why not just enjoy it?” Head cocked to the side as you appraise him, brow quirked, eyes warm, yet there's a clear challenge playing within your gaze.

Namjoon’s watching you intently, almost as if he’s taking mental notes as you speak...the heaviness within those dangerously honed eyes of his could almost be unsettling to some, but you quite like it. Made you feel as though he actually gives a flying fuck about what you’re saying.

“In my opinion the only time it looks like someone’s “Trying too hard” Making little air bunnies with your spare hand “Is if they look uncomfortable in what they’re wearing, confidence is key, and I know you know that better than anyone RM!” You muse batting your lashes in Namjoon’s direction, and he dimples back at you, eyes sinking into tiny crescents, face rivaling the color of his suit, trying to hide said smile behind his own glass of champagne.

“I could put you in a damn clown suit...” Words trailing off your tongue lackadaisically as you grow distracted searching the bar for a specific chain from John Hardy. “Which” Focus snapping back in his direction making the later splutter a little “Would be fire as fuck if I did by the way, but-” Namjoon ended up cackling midsentence, almost choking on his drink in the process, fist pounding against his sternum.

Yeah..killing the leader of Bangtan wasn’t really high on your list tonight....

“Ayee, none of that shit...” Smacking him in the back a little more so just to be an ass because he wasn’t even choking anymore “Don’t die on me until we at least get this damn photoshoot done, I had to cancel my trip to Jamaica for this shit!”

Now he’s damn near choking and his laugh was contagious, it’s just.. loud, carefree so yes, your cackling, and there's nothing cute about it. But you honestly don’t care, you let yourself get lost in it! Finally able to feel the atmosphere in the room start to shift to something a little less scripted and a little more organic...

Throwing his hands in the air as If he’s waving a nonexistent white flag “I’m sorry, noona” There’s a pout playing in his lips, not exactly aegyo per say, but it’s fuckin adorable “Blame PD-nim, it’s his fault we had to do this so last minute” Wheezes from his throat, in the form of a slight whine, almost rivaling Jimin if I’m honest.

You already know he was laughing more so due to your delivery, specifically, your casual use of profanity over anything else. This is actually something you use to be self-conscious about, especially at your first shoot with the boys, at the shoot for GQ . Well aware it wasn’t as common in Asia for people especially women to use “fuck” like a comma. So you were hoping they wouldn’t be offended, or uncomfortable by your dialect, and, thankfully they didn’t seem to mind. Much like Joonie over here, they found it entertaining over anything.

“Yeah, a huh, sureee...” Eyes rolling to the back of your head playfully as you start lightly altering the suit in question with clips and pens. “Stay still babe” The pet name slipped off your tongue effortlessly, honestly, that's what you call most people in your life. However you were far too focused to notice how wide eyed and flustered the man before you became upon hearing it directed at him so casually.

A faint little “Sorry” muses off his lips as he gnaws on his inner cheek, trying to stay still as you ghetto-rig hems into place until you can get this under your sewing needle.

“ No, but real shit…” You sigh, taking on a slightly more serious tone “If you step in front of that camera like you own the bitch, regardless of what your wearing..., then they can’t tell you shit! If your comfortable there’s no such thing as trying too hard” You shrug nonchalantly like that was the simplest concept known to man, downing the rest of your drink “Alright, that’s all, thanks for coming to my Ted talk” Waving him off as if you’re about to leave the room and he pouted playfully, jokingly begging you not to leave him yet...it felt good to be able to banter like this. The shift continuous shift within the atmosphere was more than welcomed…

Hesitantly you watch his eyes find their way back to the full length mirror, which promptly smacks you back to reality!

Unfortunately you didn't fly all the way to Seoul just to drink, and shoot shit with Namjoon for hours on end, your actually here to work…

Sooo...

“Alright” Placing your arms on his shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze as you peer over his shoulder. Meeting his gaze through the glass, chin resting gently against the blade. “Back to the reason you came Mr. “I’m sooo anxiously” Shooting him a teasing little smirk in the process “The suit, yay or nay”

So, here’s the thing technically the official fitting is tomorrow, and as far as his team knows he’s in the studio with Yoongi and Hoseok finishing up a song!

Which of course raises the question as to why he’s here..alone..mind you..no staff or security in site.

Just Kim Namjoon and yourself.....

~~~~

Heyyyy, Lemme know if you guys want this or not, it will leave kinda open ended because it was supposed to kinda be a 3 part mini series initially. Part 1 ends the morning of the shoot, the full thing is set to be around 6/7k! Spoiler, the company is going to want to keep her around for more than just Namjoon’s solo project....

Also, YES...I did see that they actually put Tae in that Burliti suit (I wrote this long before that shoot was released)...I actually hated the way it was styled it though...I never thought I’d say this but MGK’s team did a better job than BH....

#Namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon x you #kim namjoon #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon smut #bts #bts smut #bts au #kpop #kpop smut #kim namjoon x you

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dallonm-archive · 3 years

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HOW TO SWALLOW MATCHSTICKS | SHORT STORY UPDATES #5 & COLLECTION INTRO

[image description: a pale orange sky with dark orange clouds. In the middle, in white text, reads “HOW TO SWALLOW MATCHSTICKS”. /end id]

Hello y’all! Since I already mentioned this briefly, and I’m in a really good place with it, I thought I’d quickly actually introduce my collection title and talk about what it’s about!

Originally, I was going with the working title “How I Break My Bones”, but I didn’t like that the “I” suggested a singular POV in a title for the collection. Whilst brainstorming titles I came up with the line “I swallowed your matchsticks but you still set me alight” and was like what the fuck, that sounds like a poem line [I didn’t wrote poetry back then :)] but I loved the imagery so I just! Smacked them together! Also matchsticks apparently matchsticks are poisonous and that really enhanced the meaning. Funnily enough, the fact that matches start fires isn’t central to the title; fire isn’t an important image in the collection (except for one story), however burning is? But the burning imagery usually comes from mentions of sunlight rather than actual fire, which I think is very interesting and fitting for the collections Vibe.

I’m letting the collection grow thematically with the stories I write, but the central idea is self destructive behaviour, and decisions that are very very irrational to literally anyone except the main character(s). Some of them get to this from being pushed to their limit, but for others there’s a more continuous sense, that what we see is just part of a chain of self destructive behaviour that’s their normal. Lemon Teeth especially is interesting in that sense because there’s this general idea of “hey how the fuck are these two still alive”, whereas with, Tabby, the narrator is pushed to a limit they’re not even aware of until there’s consequences. The title plays with this idea of self destructive behaviour that’s actually out of defence: someone swallows matchsticks so they can’t be burnt, but the matchsticks poison them (the severity of that is also dependent on how many you swallow! I think my google history is really concerned that I’m eating matchsticks!). Your perception of reality tells you to do this irrational action so one consequence can’t happen, but you snap back into reality and realise the consequence of that action is actually far greater than the original fear, but it’s too late to reverse it. Also! A lot of WLW/femme NB characters is the goal, on the grounds of Haha I Do That.

I try to keep this collection very fluid where all the stories are very individual, but are similar when it comes to core themes and it’s been very fun to develop! I also feel like visually this collection is very orange and red? Do NOT know what that means yet <3 but a lot of the stories are visually very hazy and sometimes dreamy, but the content itself is very dark. I’ve been playing around with this idea of “injecting” haziness into a narrators POV so their perception of reality warps and intensifies as the story progresses and we end up in High Reality Territory. I’ve talked about some of these before, but I’m going to go through the current stories I have in here in their current order under the cut - mainly because I find it very interesting to actually see them all in one place and how they function as a collective, and also to see how much it changes! I also won’t have a taglist for this WIP, as I just use my general taglist for short story updates, so if you want updates then you can join that!

general taglist ; ask to be + or -! @kowlazovdi @avi-burton-writing @ryns-ramblings @kitblogsthings @ezrathings @aetherwrites @radiomacbeth @bijouxs @bookphobe @haldimilks @alicewestwater @bookpacking @shaelinwrites @harehearts @amnestys @onlyganymede @theelectricfactory @write-like-babs @oceancold @veiliza @sidhewrites @wolf-oak @feverdreamwritings @oasis-of-you @coffeeandcalligraphy @cecilsstorycorner @howdy-writes @keira-is-writing @flip-phones

content warnings for the stories in order that they appear: murder (ammonite) / fire (lemon teeth) / car accident (how to relax on class A) / toxic relationships (the name i gave her) / cults (and saturn, too + church mud). nothing is talked about in detail.

Disclaimer: These stories are my original work - plagiarism and any form of copying will not be tolerated.

[image description: two large rocks in the ocean, with waves crashing over them. in the middle, in white text, reads “AMMONITE (LAND’S END)”. /end id]

After finding washed up bones on the beach, Dennis pretends they belong to his missing wife Melody - and as he continues to talk to her, his innocence is brought into question.

This story means a lot to me because it was the first one I drafted post writing hiatus that felt like it actually resonated with the way my writing has changed. It was one of the easiest first drafts I’ve done, and editing is going pretty smoothly as well! I loved playing with the moral ambiguity element and creating this very eerie balance between “cold blooded killer” and “grieving husband” and as the author! I do not know whether he actually killed his wife or not! This is one of three stories that I should start submitting this month.

[image description: a black background with 4 lemons in the centre - 3 whole, one cut in half. In the middle, in white text, reads “LEMON TEETH”. /end id]

A house narrates the night its inhabitants burn it to the ground, and tries to understand the human condition from their toxic, tangled relationship.

I drafted this after Ammonite and it ~sucked~. I went to edit in January because I wanted to submit it to a magazine ( <3 missed the deadline <3) and ended up rewriting the whole thing and it is SO much better. It’s gotten quite surrealist but I’ve never written surrealism so I don’t want to call it that yet? But I mean, some of the imagery + the fact that the narrator is a house experiencing complex thought is v surrealist! I want to fine tune that element more because when it comes to submissions I’ll need to actually determine whether it’s surrealism or not but I’m very excited to because out of all the stories this is the one I want published the most! I love it so much. I loved turning a bunch of wood into a character (they’re so sarcastic and mean?? love it), and Lawrence and Frances are perhaps one of THE most fucked up relationships I’ve written so far <3

[image description: a silhouette of a cat against a dark orange background. In the middle, in white text, reads “TABBY”. /end id]

A reclusive man who’d rather exist as a phantom than a human notices the neighbours aren’t feeding their cat, and is sucked into a world that breaks the stillness of his own.

This is the only story here that has an update post that’s not outdated so you can check out more about this story HERE. In hindsight, I think this is the one that really drove where this collection is going the most; I had a lot of different thematic ideas in my head and drafting this naturally organised my thoughts and highlighted the most important ones to me. This also really helped me figure out the perception of reality in this collection and that’s also a central idea (and one of my favourites to explore). I’ve always said I love writing things that feel hazy, feel dreamy, but this story took that took a new level and I feel there’s a lot more depth now? Tabby felt neither like high realism nor realism, it felt like reality with this “glow” that only the narrator seemed to be aware of. This glow reels the narrator into this dreamlike perception of reality to the point where he can’t distinguish the real world from his perception of it, and ends up doing things that he otherwise wouldn’t do had he had a clearer perception of what’s going on. It’s like dreamy reality: make it insidious! I read back on this draft the other day and I’m really excited to start editing, this is the third out of the 3 stories I’m aiming to get published first!

[image description: a single car in the middle of the road on a foggy night, with bright orange headlights. In the middle, in white text, reads “HOW TO RELAX ON CLASS A” /end id]

Whilst trying to manage a bad trip, our narrator makes an unlikely friendship with the driver who just hit his best friend.

I’m currently drafting this, and will likely make an update post for it soon so I won’t talk to much about the story itself here. But if you want to know how the draft is going: it’s sure going! This is in 2nd person instructional which I’ve never written before and it is very difficult at times but also very fun. I can already tell this is the story that’ll need a lot of fine tuning and editing but I really love the premise and where it’s going. This is sort of an evolution of a short story I wrote in 2019 that sucked <3 but I only got the actual idea for the plot a couple months back. My only complaint right now is I’d like a new title because I don’t like this following the “How to __” structure when the collection already does that.

[image description: A black night sky. In the middle, in white text, reads “THE NAME I GAVE HER”. Below the text is 6 moons in different phases, all glowing yellow. /end id]

A woman tries to see her relationship outside of the rose-tinted glasses the night her and her girlfriend fake their deaths.

I wrote this around October but never finished it, and I think I still haven’t figured out the crux of this story or even how it’s meant to be told but I love it too much to let go and really wanna make it work. This is the first WLW story I wrote that’s like, clearly a WLW couple but it’s not about that, and that meant a lot to me. Like I always knew I could just write WLW characters existing but to actually write that, especially with such emotional complexity and also pain that’s not tied to their sexuality was really freeing for me. Also lesbians really are like “damn I need symbolic imagery in my queer story :/” and just write about the moon like the way this story is JUST a bunch of moon imagery and is also structured around the phases? Very sexy

[image description: the view of an orange and purple sky, with the sun rising behind a darker purple mountain. A tree’s shadow takes up the right side and bottom left corner. In the middle, in white text, reads “AND SATURN, TOO”. /end id]

I haven’t drafted this yet (I plan to after HTROCA) but it’s lived rent free in my head long enough to know I want it in this collection. This story chronicles our main character - an ace lesbian who might not know she’s ace yet?? - as she spends the summer on a commune her parents sent her to and I for one am loving having a second cult-y story to explore (although this isn’t explicitly a cult, it just has the undertones and the narrator makes it very clear how she feels about that). This was originally going to have a romance, but lately I’ve been really into the importance of presenting lesbian and sapphic identities beyond the relationship aspect and the element of personal/individual identity. Like HTROCA, I want to have a full update post on this story one day so I won’t talk much about it now, but I am currently brainstorming it and I’m! Very obsessed with it!

[image description: a close up photo of an eye rotated sideways. The photo is filtered red and repeated and on the left hand side, flipped the opposite way. In the middle, in white text, reads “CHURCH MUD”. /end id]

We’ll pretend I didnt spend the last month talking shit about this title BUT for those who don’t know the origin story of my novel Revelations, Revelations is that it was meant to be a short story for my dissertation that quickly unravelled into what it is now. Since I’d already presented the concept to my advisor, I decided to turn it into a sort of “RR But With An Alternate Timeline/Inciting Incident” where Felix and Dorothy escaped the cult at the same time, at the height of their conflict and it got fucked up REAL quick. It was actually so fascinating because whilst it was definitely intentionally heightened, it felt like I was exploring both of their “dark rooms”, exploring a possibility that they would both happily ignore, but was very much almost a reality. I’m no longer doing Uni this year because of covid (I couldn’t stand another zoom lecture), so I don’t know if I can use this story next year but I really want to turn it into something. I just have to strip the RR elements from it and turn it into its own - my <3 third cult story <3.

And that’s where we currently are! I’m not sure if I’ll do collection driven updates, since I just write whatever short stories come to mind and if they fit then great and if they don’t then great, but I might do one say 6 months from now just to see how much it’s changed. This is my primary WIP this year, as 2021 is the ~year of submissions~ for me and hopefully I’ll be able to share some of these stories with y’all soon!

#short stories #atlastracking #wip intro #how to swallow matchsticks #me introducing my collection after roman introduced theirs i am just a SHEEP!!!!!!

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kessielrg · 3 years

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[Kingdom Hearts] Old Habits, New Reasons

Summary: Three times in which Namine shies away from social functions just to draw, and the one time someone joined her. [oneshot][character study][NamiXi if you really wanna squint][also Namiku if you squint a little less]

Rating: K

Word Count: 3,469 words

If you liked this story, please reblog!

---

Their question had thrown Namine off slightly. She sheepishly looked down at her small sketchbook as if it could answer the question for her. The white page stared back at her in silence.

A part of Namine knew this would happen eventually. There was always that fear that someone would follow her, ask her what she was doing, and then tell her to rejoin the others. But that wasn't what they were asking, was it? They wanted to know why she was drawing. It was a simple question, and it was a bit odd that someone would have lugged a caboodle of art supplies with them to a banquet.

"Well?" the other girl asked. "Is there someone who would get mad you're drawing, even if you did it around your friends?"

"I don't think so." Namine decided, slowly. "But sometimes... it's just easier to draw without other people around you. And sometimes, when people find out that you're good at something, they make you do that something for them. It's not very fun."

"Do you always leave to draw, though?"

At first, Namine wanted to disagree with all her heart. But in introspection, it was more of a vice than she cared to admit. She loved drawing, but didn't like others watching her as she did it. When did that happen, she wondered. That didn't used to be the case...

"Sometimes." Namine finally said. She held her sketchbook a bit tighter before adding, "But only on certain occasions."

"Like?"

Namine looked over at the other girl with curiosity. She was greeted with a look just as inquisitive as her own. Maybe even more so. There was a genuine interest; that much was certain. Maybe there was a budding artist in their midst?

"Well..." she carefully said, moving her sketchbook a bit to flip through the earlier pages, "There was this one time..."

. . .

It was a small comfort that, while she wasn't a Keyblade wielder herself, the others considered her when they all got together. She still made sure that her presence didn't disturb anyone. Being quiet and observant was Namine's most reliable vice. That, and drawing. There wasn't much else she knew how to do. Her time as a Nobody barely ranged a year, and after that she was placed safely inside Kairi's heart until recently. Being a Somebody was... confusing, to say the least.

Being asked to join in on a slumber party with Kairi and Xion had been a surprise- perhaps even more so because Master Aqua herself gave her the invitation. Namine certainly didn't expect it to take place in the Land of Departure either. The world seemed far too grand to her -far too important in the history of Keyblade wielders- that it could be used for anything beyond a training arena. She was proven wrong after entering the Great Hall with Kairi. Aqua had given them a spot in front of the thrones, already decorated with sleeping bags for all four of them and a small assortment of snacks.

"I've never got to have a proper slumber party before, since it was me and Terra for most of our childhoods." Aqua admitted at some point. "Feels weird having one with you guys now. I feel like a mom."

It was Xion who, without skipping a beat, cheerfully declared, "And you're the best one I'll never have!"

"Xion!" both Aqua and Kairi declared, each with their own level of bewilderment. Namine only offered a stifled laugh. So proud at their reactions, Xion gave them all a smile so big, it almost rivaled Sora's.

After that, they started to talk about various things since they all met together. Apparently everyone's training was going rather well. Kairi was beginning to get a handle of second tier elemental magic, while Xion was working on personal techniques on and off for the past week. It was around this time that Namine politely excused herself from the others. They had been so caught up in their conversation that they didn't even notice.

Namine went to where she and Kairi had placed their personal things to find her caboodle. The caboodle was a neat little box with drawers that opened the same time she opened the lid. She was able to put all her art supplies in it. Most of them, anyway- her normal sketchbook was too large to fit. Instead, she used a smaller pad that was placed where the mirror in the caboodle was. Once Namine made sure she had everything, she carefully found a spot far enough away from the others so she could draw them. It honestly wasn't very far, but it was still far enough away that the other three didn't really notice her. That was fine. If anything, it was perfect.

The sounds of the others almost masked the sound of her pencil against paper. Spending most of her life locked away with nothing but drawing to distract her gave Namine a slight skill in speed drawing. However, she took her time when she started to work on her friends. She wanted as much detail as she could.

But she didn't bother to sketch her own sleeping bag. She tried to tell herself that it was because it ruined the composition. But deep down she knew it was because she didn't fit with the others, and so it didn't need to be included.

Namine finished her drawing without the others ever knowing she was gone. She placed everything back in her caboodle, then went back as Kairi went into a long story about Tidus and Wakka back on the islands. It was nice; the sounds of friendship. Namine had been the first to go to sleep that night.

. . .

At first, the only response she got was a quiet, "Oh..."

"It was a really fun time!" Namine quickly insisted. "And it really was a treat to be included."

"But you drew yourself out."

Namine flinched slightly. "It worked out better that way. From the angle I was at, it would have looked weird because I had the really light sleeping bag, and everything was so dark anyway..."

The other girl only looked more guilty.

"Do you still have the picture?" she wondered.

"I think so." Namine agreed. She adjusted herself so she could better go through her sketchbook before flipping through the earlier pages. "Here," she then offered as she handed it over.

There was a small hum as the other ran her fingers over the drawing. Namine had made deliberate choices in lighting around the three Keyblade wielders- light coming off of them as if they were lighting up the whole room. If you looked ever closer, you could see the detail of the castle's floor, and even make out the silhouettes of the three thrones in the background.

"Does anyone know that you go somewhere away from everyone to draw?" the other girl asked, handing the sketchbook back to Namine.

Namine gave a fond, almost bashful smile.

"There is someone..."

. . .

"There's a lot of people here." Namine noted as she tried to look over the crowd. Riku wasn't making the same amount of effort. Instead, he just casually looked on with a hand at his hip. Curse him being a full head taller than she was.

"Aqua said that Disney Town holds the Dream Festival every year." Riku agreed with a small nod. "Can't be that easy since Queen Minnie has almost been reigning the kingdom alone for the past few years. The effort is definitely amazing though."

Namine agreed with a nod and a small noise of affirmation. Disney Town looked absolutely splendid for the festival. All the colors, and the smells, and the energy was enough to put anyone in a good mood. The grip Namine had on her caboodle tightened slightly. A frown crossed her lips as she considered that there might have been too much commotion. There wasn't a good place to just sit and zone out without some kind of noise maker going off.

Riku must have noticed this. He looked over at her, and quickly saw her firm grip on the caboodle's handle.

"Are you sure you don't want to leave that in the Gummi Ship?" he asked. He even made a mild gesture to the box, which only made Namine hold it closer to her.

"No. I'm going to use it." Namine insisted. "I just... I just need someplace a bit more quiet..."

Riku nodded. He looked up again to see that Queen Minnie had taken the stage. The queen looked as beautiful as always in her formal pink and red ballgown. The jewels on her crown glittered under the multicolored overhead lights. Everyone cheered at seeing her- the love and admiration they had for their leader was enough to be felt from miles away. Minnie was a good queen, there was no contest about that.

As Minnie tried to settle the crowd down so she could speak, Riku bent down a bit to quietly tell Namine something.

"There's a sewage grate somewhere behind us. If you take it, there's a gizmo that will lead you up to one of the buildings overlooking the racetrack. Don't know about you, but a good aerial shot might be something to capture for later."

Namine grinned. "Thank you Riku." she said before giving him a small peck on his cheek. The young Keyblade master's face gleamed with a humble blush as he stood tall again, almost as if he had never moved at all. Namine laughed a bit at it before leaving.

Finding, and getting into, the grate had not been an issue. It did take her awhile to navigate the gizmo, though. But it was all worth it once she got to the top of a particular building. Namine let out a soft 'Oh...' of wonder as she sat down near the edge facing the racetrack. Riku was right- this was a good place to work. If only she was able to use larger sketch paper in her travelling kit.

When she was finished, Namine very quickly tried to find Riku again. She shouted his name after spotting him. He barely had time to turn around before she proudly displayed her new drawing to him.

"Do you think Queen Minnie will like it?" she asked, rather breathlessly.

Riku looked at her before looking down at the drawing. He put on a wide smile before telling her, "She's going to love it. It's perfect."

. . .

That story had brought about a rather brighter mood in the other girl.

"Did Queen Minnie like the drawing?" she asked. "You did give it to her after the festival, right?"

A sense of pride welled in Namine's heart, leading her to sit a bit straighter. "She loved it." she grinned. "She immediately had the brooms take it to the gallery to be expanded and mounted. You should have seen the look on Riku's face. He was as proud as I was, and probably more surprised!"

"I could only imagine." the other girl laughed. "Oh!" she then said, "Have you ever gone someplace with a view so nice that you just couldn't replicate it no matter how hard you tried? It's hard to recreate any atmosphere, in my opinion. I wanna know if you ever tried to as well."

Namine let out a soft hum as she thought about it. She let out a small noise of realization when it came to her.

"I did once before, yes." she agreed. "Since Kairi's parents don't mind me staying with them, I was able to join her, Riku, Wakka, Tidus, and Selphie to a beach party they had. It was still summer vacation, if I remember correctly. And Tidus really wanted to have a girls versus boys match..."

. . .

"Head's up!" Tidus shouted before serving the volleyball over the net.

"Cheater!" Selphie shouted back as Kairi managed to spike the ball back. Tidus only gave a rather sinister cackle back. However, at that point, no one was able to break their concentration just to smack talk each other.

Namine watched as Kairi and Selphie worked against Tidus and Riku in a rather well matched volleyball tourney. Wakka wasn't too far away- he had lost a bet earlier and had to make food for everyone. The smell of pineapples and fish hung in the air. It was the warmth of the midday sun that Namine loved the most. The feeling enveloped its way around her like a comforting hug. She let out a soft sigh as she got a bit more comfortable.

The sudden urge to draw made her fingers twitch.

This wasn't a good spot for it, though. She was too close to the others for anything but sand to get onto the paper than color. As much as she loved watching the volleyball match, it was still a bit too distracting. Namine started to get up and casually looked around for a better spot to draw. It didn't take long for her eyes to train to a crow's nest not far from the shore. It was part of a large treehouse that seemed to encompass the island. She looked back at her friends for a moment before quietly leaving them. If anyone noticed she was going, they certainly didn't question her about it.

After getting herself situated at the higher point, Namine found herself gaping at the scene below her. Her friends happily playing on the beach, the light reflections off the water, and even the island holding the paopu tree providing a view so beautiful, so rich, that she wasn't even aware that she was opening her caboodle at first. Seeing the Destiny Islands through Sora's heart was nothing compared to the real thing. Was it possible just to freeze time here and let everything else wash away? She smiled a bit to herself. She did have a way to freeze time, in a way.

The only unfortunate thing was that she wouldn't be able to capture it all. She couldn't encapsulate the smell of the sea, or the sounds of Tidus demanding the girls had leverage over him for some reason. She gave a small smile as she continued to work. Most of her effort was spent trying to reflect the sea around them. A certain impatience came over her as she carefully did each detail. You always had to start with the big stuff, then go down smaller. She was just so eager to capture this moment, anyway she could, that she was always picturing this drawing when it was done.

Namine had to force herself to stop after an hour. Her hands were starting to hurt, and her stomach was growling for food. She cracked her knuckles, barely relieving the tension in them, before putting her stuff away. There would always be time to clean the picture up later. For now, she needed to rejoin her friends.

. . .

And so, we were brought back to our initial setting- the banquet in Radiant Garden.

Namine had thought at first that this would be the perfect opportunity to work on drawing food. But the actual banquet itself had a lot more activity than she was anticipating. There were too many people at the tables to have space to stand at for a few minutes, and she had tried to get a plate for herself to take elsewhere- the allure of delectable aromas wouldn't let her go far without wolfing everything down. So she decided to get a higher view.

To her luck, there was a balcony overlooking the main area. It wasn't blocked off or anything, so Namine quietly crept her way to the top. She found a place to carefully overlook the area and found herself at awe. Even if she was aware that someone was behind her, she probably wouldn't have known it at first.

"Namine!" a voice suddenly said in surprise. Namine jumped a good foot before turning her attention to the newcomer. She relaxed a little when she found it was just Xion.

"Xion..." the blonde girl sighed. "It's just you."

"Am I interrupting you? I'm sorry. I'm not interested in food, and the boys are really going at it, so I really wanted to do this writing exercise where you describe an atmosphere, and..."

"No, no, no. You're fine." Namine insisted. She moved her stuff a bit before gesturing for Xion to sit down next to her. "Here," she offered, "Sit next to me. The view is nice from this area."

Xion smiled in thanks before carefully sitting down. She looked out over the balcony and gasped.

"You're right, this is a good view!" Xion marveled. Her eyes expanding in wonder. "This is the perfect place for Ebba to plant a listening device onto an enemy!"

"Ebba?" Namine wondered. "Who's Ebba?"

At Namine's confusion, Xion's face lit up in a deep scarlet.

"She's my... I think Pence called it 'self-insert.' It's a character that's based on me, but sometimes has a few differences. I've based most of the stories I write on stuff I did in the Organization. It's helped a lot with trying to cope with it. You know?"

Namine shrunk a little. "Yeah..." she agreed in a tiny voice.

"But it's real fun too!" Xion told her, trying to divert the heavy topic a bit. "I base everyone in story with someone in real life! You should see the guy I based on Xemnas... I do a lot of mean things to him."

Namine let out a small chuckle. But then a thought occurred to her.

"You based the characters in your story on us?"

"Of course I did!" she happily declared, her blush growing a bit, besides. "Roxas is Lucas, Master Aqua is head knight Meikai, I even have Pluto as the brave pup Mercury!"

"Do... Do you have someone based on me?"

Xion paused for a moment. Her face going still. However, just as quickly, her smile came back as wide as ever.

"Not yet, but I can!" she decided. She hummed a bit as she thought it over some more. "But I don't have to if you don't want to. I think I'll call her... Syrena."

"Syrena..." Namine hummed in thought. She then gave a bright smile in appreciation. "I like it."

"Great!" Xion beamed. She let out a rather contented sigh before asking, "What about you? Why did you come here?" She looked down at Namine's sketchpad and art supplies for a moment then added, "Did you come all this way just to draw?"

After some hesitation, Namine told her. Carefully, and in her own time. Xion listened intently- only asking questions when Namine was done relating a certain day. When the subject came back around to where they were, Xion seemed to understand much better.

"I get it now." she said.

"You do?" Namine wondered.

Xion gave a thoughtful little nod before explaining, "It's easier for you to draw when it's more quiet. That was how it was before. I think it's great that you're still drawing, even though you started because you were held hostage by the Organization. But the Organization didn't give you the skill you have, Namine. That’s all your own. Kinda like how writing is my special thing. We have ways to just... be ourselves, you know? It's comforting. It's like knowing that, even though we didn't start out in this world with our own goals or ideals, we can make them on our own now. We're free now, Namine. Free to do whatever we want."

Namine absently hugged her sketchbook. "I like that thought." she admitted. "I never really saw it that way before, either. Drawing is something that I know I can do. Something that won't harm others. But you are right- it's what makes me... me. Thank you."

Xion grinned. A wide, bright grin that could have lit up a room. It gave Namine an idea.

"What does Ebba look like?" she questioned, at the same time she pulled out one of her sketching pencils. "Does she look just like you, or are there a lot of differences?"

There was a moment of confusion on Xion's face, then a bright flicker of joy. Not a second after, she burst into a long babble about her character. She even used her arms to illustrate certain concepts and mannerisms. Namine laughed, and did her best to keep up. Xion was so passionate about her characters- it almost made Namine jealous. For the next few hours, Namine did a blend of Xion's idea for Ebba, while Xion herself got to writing about how Ebba got to meet a new acquaintance; a mysterious girl named Syrena, who -while mostly shy- was very well loved.

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sophiethewitch1 · 3 years

Text

Meteoric Chapter 1 - A New Life, A New Me!

Death should be simple, you think.. You die, and that's it. However, considering how much pain and nausea you feel at the moment, you can guess that it’s not actually that simple. Your eyes open slightly, the bright light blinding you.

So, wait… what happened after death then?

Your eyes finally adjust to the bright light, and you realise you’re lying on your back staring up at a white-haired toddler.

Hold on… it’s… flying? It’s flying. What the hell.

You blink up at the floating thing in front of you, shock evident on your face. It's… It’s floating. You don’t think you can understate that this small child is floating. It’s floating. FLOATING! It frowns at you, and you think it calls out to you, but you’re too busy turning onto your side and throwing up absolutely nothing but water because god wants you to suffer. Did you drown? Who knows.

...Okay so heaven has been ruled out, not much surprise there.

The thing cries out in shock, moving closer to you patting you on the back and moving your hair out of your view. Finally, you stop retching up, breathing heavily and coughing the l. You roll away from the toddler and are shocked by the view in front of you. You’re at the beach. Maybe you did survive, you think looking at the cliffs and the ocean in front of you. Did you get swept away by the ocean to some strange land?

You turn back to look at the floating thing and realise, yup they are most definitely defying gravity.

What the hell is going on.

You then notice something incredibly strange.

It’s… Paimon.

Paimon? Paimon. That is most definitely Paimon. From the halo to the cape to the little star clip in her hair, everything about it is most definitely Paimon.

What the actual hell.

“Aether! She’s woken up!” it says in a voice that sounds absolutely like Paimon.

You think you’re going to pass out.

“Really? About time,” you turn your head to look at the voice and you shouldn’t be surprised really, but right there is definitely the male MC from Genshin. The same long blond hair in a neat braid.

And that’s when you finally recognise your surroundings.

You… are in Monstadt. Specifically, the starting beach where the game begins the tutorial. You look past the beach and squint, barely able to make out the silhouette of the secret island you spent thirty minutes trying to get to with Kaeya since you fell and drowned at one point.

Damn you really wish you got Venti, you could’ve just flown there if you had.

Wait…

Is Venti… real?

You look back at Aether and Paimon, eyes wide. You played with Lumine so you didn’t often get to see Aether but you knew what he looked like from online. You knew it was him, and yet…

You couldn’t quite believe it.

“Aether… Paimon?” the words come out of your mouth unprompted and you wince, realising that there's no real way you should know their names.

They blink, shocked like you expected they would be, and glance at each other. You notice the familiarity in that action and remember at this point they’ve been adventuring together for at least two months now.

“How long… have I been asleep?” you ask, your voice is quiet and hoarse from your coughing. And there was a salty taste at the back of your throat too, likely from the water. You really must’ve drowned then.

You think you really did die.

Paimon hesitates for only a second before speaking.

“We don’t know! Aether saw a shooting star fall near here and we came to investigate… and we found you in the water! Thought you were dead but we checked your pulse and found it still beating. And then you woke up and coughed up all that seawater!” she says, her hands clasped behind her back and her whole body tilted to the side slightly.

You look to the side, quiet. You don’t know what to say. You were a talkative person when you felt comfortable, and right now you were definitely out of your comfort zone.

Silence.

“...How did you know our names?” Aether asks, breaking the fragile quiet, and you want to sigh in relief. That is until you realise what he asked and freeze, not knowing how to answer him.

You continue to look off into the distance, the midday sun sitting above the calm waters of Monstadt.

“...Well then! Paimon thinks we should be headed off, we should get you to a doctor too! Let’s get going!” she says, pointing towards the edge of the beach where a teleport beacon sits. You get up, brushing the sand off you and are shocked when you stumble forward slightly.

Aether moves forward to help you, grabbing your arm and stopping you from tipping over, you laugh and he looks at you weirdly. You felt dizzy, like the air was lighter here... like you were lighter. You couldn’t tell if you liked it or not, but you did know it was strange.

You were starting to realise you were actually in a different world.

You shake your head, your laughter tapering off.

“Are you alright?” Aether asks, and you look up to him.

He was slightly taller than you, which was strange because in your last life you were definitely not near the same height as Aether was, he seemed way shorter than you. Once again, it’d make sense since this is a different world.

Whatever, you could process this all later, for now, you just wanted to find somewhere safe to cry.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m perfectly fine,” you lie through your teeth, and you think he can tell. You pull away from him, and he lets go without any hesitation.

This was all so strange.

Paimon calls the two of you over to the beacon, and you approach it with awe. Aether reaches a hand towards the stone and it turns from red to blue, a symbol of its activation.

You find it’s familiar blue glow somehow surprising you. It really shouldn’t, since it is such a common sight in the game but… it’s floating too. You come to realise physics should stop being a top priority of yours here. If any of this is actually real.

Hm. Maybe you were dreaming? You heard that there was this theory about after your death where you would dream for the few milliseconds before your brain completely shut down.

Well, it made more sense than being reincarnated into a video game…

You follow the two of them passed the point and reach the cliff, Paimon says something about having to climb it, and Aether scales the small stone wall easily. You stare at it. You’d done indoor rock climbing before, but they all had obvious and brightly coloured hand-holds. Your eyes move up from the wall to Aether and Paimon staring expectantly down at you.

Well, here goes nothing.

You jump up, grabbing onto the edge of the stone, pulling yourself up. Luckily the wall is angled slightly away from you, so it’s easy to get your weight up by leaning on it. You pull yourself up again, moving your feet up until you finally grab Aether’s waiting hand and pull yourself up.

“Wow, you’re not much of a traveller are you? Not too fast with climbing,” Paimon says, and you have the urge to punch her out of the sky.

But all you do is awkwardly laugh, and rub the back of your neck. Whatever, emergency food, neither of us are the star of this show and you know it.

Aether ignores the two of you and keeps walking on, stoic and cool, which was unlike what you expected. When you played Lumine she was an absolute mess, and you thought there wasn’t any difference in their characters, but this wasn’t the game, so it made sense. It was either a very strange ‘life-flashes-before-your-eyes’ moment or reincarnation.

You didn’t like either option, to be honest.

“Okay, let’s take the route we planned!” Paimon says, floating past you quickly towards Aether, “We’re off to… a statue of the Seven! Which of the Seven are you looking for, exactly?”

It is very surreal to hear her dialogue lines in real life.

Aether keeps walking along, paying no attention to the beautiful scenery around you. You, however, are staring in complete awe at the gorgeous greenery and cliff faces surrounding you, you even spot a waterfall!

Striding purposefully along, you can barely keep up with him. Evidently, he wasn’t a ‘stop and smell the flowers’ type like you were, so you run to catch up with him.

“Oh wowwww!” Paimon coos, and you can’t help but agree with her. In front of you is a gorgeous view, the cliffs at the side of your gaze moving your eyes naturally to its centre where a lake sits, a statue of The Seven in the centre of it. In the background, you can barely make out Monstadt, with it’s Church and windmills. Some birds fly across the canyon, adding to the wild beauty of the place.

Wide-eyed, you stare.

Yeah, this might just be real.

“That’s the statue of the Seven!” Paimon points down at the statue, a beacon of light piercing the sky. She drops her hand, “There are a few of these statues across the land to show The Seven’s protection over the world. Among the seven gods, this god controls the wind. Paimon’s not sure whether the god you’re looking for is the Anemo God, but…”

She clasps her hands behind her back, looking worryingly at Aether.

“Paimon’ll take you to the Anemo God first and there’s a reason why~”

You can’t remember what the reason is, so you just nod along. Not adding anything to the conversation, not that Aether was either.

“Let’s go,” he says, which you find hilarious. A true silent protagonist, all stoic and mysterious… You really couldn’t take him seriously. He starts running down the mountain, and you follow after him as fast as you can.

“As we all know, poetry and language flow like the wind…” you always loved that part of Anemo, you were a hopeless romantic so such a lovely element had your heart quite quickly simply because of that. It was the element of freedom, and you always wanted to be a free soul.

“There’ll definitely be someone there who knows about your sister. At least, that’s what Paimon thinks! Whether the Gods actually answer you is a different story. You never know unless you try,” she turns to look at you, floating next to the two of you running down the hill.

“And there will definitely be someone here who can check up on you! You’ll be in good care!”

You smile at her, a little wobbly since you were still running along at a speed you were definitely not used to.

“Thank you,” you say, almost tripping over a rock on your way down.

She nods at you, a closed-eyed smile on her face.

“So let’s hop to it!”

You finally get down to the little lake and Aether doesn’t even hesitate before diving into the water after Paimon. You scowl, following through with them. You notice you’re still wearing your camping gear, if not a little more worn and torn. Oh, does that mean…? You wiggle your finger in your pocket and frown when you find the hole still there.

Whatever, keep going.

You move forward, wading through the water, and swimming the small distance to the island. You get out of the water, sopping wet and grumpy, but your mood quickly changes when you look up at the Anemo Archon’s statue in front of you.

It feels like it’s… calling to you.

Aether steps forward and lays a gloved palm upon the golden insignia at its base, turning the glowing light from faintly yellow to a brilliant aqua. Your eyes follow the aqua light until you focus on how its forms in the Barbatos statues hands. The light grows brighter and brighter, till an anemoculus pops out and floats down into Aether’s chest. The ghostly symbol of Anemo fading away and being absorbed into the boy's form.

He looks around, eyes curious and open. It’s kind’ve adorable.

He lifts a hand up to grab a wisp of light but it’s gone by the time he opens his hand.

“Ooh! Did you just feel the elements of the world? Seems all you had to do was just touch the statue to get the power of Anemo!” Paimon says, holding her chin in the ‘I’m-thinking’ pose.

You take a step towards the statue, the words of the two behind you starting to drown out. You can hear something, it almost sounds like… a violin? No… a lyre.

A flash of Venti appears in your brain and the hand hovering above the statue freezes. You turn to look at Aether. If he can get his powers due to being an Outlander, wouldn’t that mean…

You step back from the statue.

You almost hear it whining out your name, which is incredibly silly. It’s just a statue, a statue of immense power, but a statue nonetheless. It can’t yearn, and certainly not for you.

Another step backwards, and that tugging feeling in your chest disappears. You can’t stop thinking about the statue, so you focus on Aether and Paimon calling you across the water. You swim through it again, not worrying about your wet clothes this time.

You follow them, watching Aether use his new powers, the obvious wonder painting your face. Magic… he’s got magic. Watching the wind release from his hands and sword in controlled blasts is surprisingly the first thing about this endeavour that made you happy.

You’d always loved magic, you’d gotten involved in earth’s version of it, but you could never do anything like this… He aims a blast at another slime and then swiftly cuts it in two, and you smile.

“So she can actually smile,” Paimon says, crossing her arms and smirking at you.

Your smile quickly turns into a frown.

“I’ve smiled at you…” you say, staring at her. Your voice hurts a little less than earlier, which is a relief. No permanent damage to be seen, it seems.

She rolls her eyes and places her tiny hands on her hips.

“A real smile, silly! Not one of your sarcastic laughs either! I seriously thought you were a huge debbie-downer!”

You laugh and Paimon grins in triumph. She didn’t know what was wrong with you, but she knew something had happened. She wanted to help.

A growl sounds from above you and a giant shadow swiftly passes over your head. Your eyes snap up, and to your never-ending shock, a familiar blue dragon flies past. You barely get a glimpse, but you see it’s gorgeous butterfly patterned wings and it’s long elegant tail soar over the canyon. Both Aether and Paimon gawk up at it as well, and Paimon says-

“Wow! What is that?!”

Dvalin. It’s the legendary dragon Dvalin.

“There’s something huge! In the sky! It’s headed towards the heart of the forest. We must proceed with caution,” she warns, and you follow after the path Aether leads, your eyes still flickering up to the sky.

You’d be meeting the dragon soon.

And a certain mischievous God too.

Well, this was going to be a long day…

Unknown to you, a power simmered. Rejected and angry, it’s strength gathered, hoping to lure it’s chosen closer. It is determined, all for it’s beloved.

A statue along the coast begins to crack.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #anime x reader #multichapter #fem reader #female reader

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pollenat · 3 years

Text

NCT 127 Returning to you from the war

➛ Note: Inspired by American war movies, so I had the times of World War II in mind while writing this. This is in no way meant to romanticize war. I wanted to focus on the reunion part - something that I do consider romantic. Some are lighter, some are more serious. All according to my imagination.

TAEIL

The waiting was the worst. Surrounded by a large crowd of people similar to you - impatiently expecting the train to appear - you felt small and useless. The vehicle’s interior possessed something of the utmost value to you, a part of your heart, and so with each passing minute the half that remained kept beating quicker as if it could feel the other coming closer. Your chest was about to get torn apart by the strength of gravity pulling you to your celestial body, Moon Taeil. Somewhere someone yelled, somewhere else another person sobbed and you couldn’t decide whose behavior fitted your feelings better.

As soon as the train stopped on the station, people started pillowing each other, everyone trying to climb the living pile of human beings. Your own best bet was a metal fence just asking to be climbed. Hands glued to the railing, you watched over heads of different shapes and sizes. The sobs and screams raised in volume. Men dressed in green rolled out of the train’s exit. They were too far away for you to make out their features. Somewhere in the back of your head a voice was telling you that it’d be impossible to miss Taeil, and yet, the minutes passed and no man reminded you of him. People screamed, either from happiness or relief. Some more impatient spectators tried pushing through the crowd. The living wall turned out to be too thick.

“Bobby!” an elderly woman screamed from somewhere to your right. Startled, your eyes darted in the direction to find reunited mother and son.

Someone laughed warmly next to you. A strange, but familiar voice. In a state of shock, you looked back, to where Taeil stood to your left. He was smiling widely. His cheeks were hollow. One of them had a razor cut on it. His right hand landed on your back. He seemed awkward, unsure how to react to your frozen state. A thumb rubbed your back.

“Taeil!” Perhaps an eternity passed before you realized.

You jumped off the railing and straight into his unprepared embrace. Taeil had to take a step back under your weight, but your tight hug made sure to keep him in place. You were both much weaker versions of yourselves, compared to how you were two years before. But with adrenaline pumping your blood, your arms gained something of a superhuman strength.

“So you were waiting for me after all?” He teased, but his strengthening arms told you just how relieved he was to see you. And you understood. Joking was his way of dealing with tension.

“How did you find me? I was searching for you in the crowd and couldn’t spot you.” Neither of you weakened the grip.

“You were sitting on a railing. Of course I noticed you.” His voice came out muffled, as he hid face in the side of your neck.

Someone elbowed you while pushing through the crowd, and you cringed in Taeil’s hold. His head quickly left the hiding place, as if to tell the stranger off. You saw a rare grimace of detestation decorating usually gentle features. But he didn’t snap at the woman who paid you no mind. Instead, he pulled you to the exit, arms still circled around your features.

“Let’s get out of here, hm? I’m never looking at a train again.”

“Even when we go on holidays?” Taeil looked at your face, the remnants of grimace now nowhere to be seen.

“Ask me again in a week.” Although people were screaming and weeping in the background, you heard his laughter loud and clear.

JOHNNY

Someone called for you. Busy cleaning your shelves, you welcomed the new distraction with a sigh. The past few weeks you’ve been doing nothing, but keeping yourself busy. Anything would do, as long as it kept your head away from the contents of the letter. The last one Johnny has sent you, two months before. You’ve written him back twice, and neither of the messages were answered.

Conclusion seemed obvious, though you’ve never received the bad news. You were kept in the dark, and you’ve welcomed it with last bits of hope that he’d return soon.

With one last glance at the room, you walked downstairs.

“There’s a package for you at the doorstep.”

“And you couldn’t just pick it up?” Your sibling smiled a little, though they quickly bit their lips to hide it. “What are you being so weird about?”

Opening the door, you expected a postman in his dark blue uniform. Not someone dressed in dark green and reminding you of a familiar face. A tall silhouette with wide shoulders and a flirty smile. It quickly dropped the teasing facade to spread into a wide sign of genuine happiness.

“Get it? I’m the package!” You didn’t, but stunned into silence, you could barely understand what was happening.

Johnny brought you to his chest, cheek to cheek, as he hummed happily to himself. As if he had a melody on mind, trying to lull you into sleep. You’d eventually wake up and realize that he was just a dream, because though you hoped, you were sure he was dead.

“You always laugh at my jokes, what’s with you today?”

“Pinch me.”

“What?” Johnny looked at you as if you had lost your mind. But who knew, maybe you did.

“Pinch me.”

“Babe- This is pretty public-”

“On my face.”

“Ah, alright I guess.” Two of his fingers pressed at your skin, signaling your brain through the nerves that indeed, you were awake, and Johnny was very much alive. Even more! Standing in front of you!

“Why would you scare me like that?”

“You asked me to pinch you-”

“No, I meant the letters! You didn’t answer!”

“You see, it was the element of surprise.”

“You and your surprises!” You mumbled against his skin, now returning the embrace with newfound strength. “I thought you were dead.”

Johnny calmed under your tight grip, mumbling sorry’s back to you. It was as if you were writing new letters, now on each other’s skin with whispers and few happy tears. Your hands crawled around his silhouette, forming a picture before you could take a good look at him. To be honest, the picture didn’t matter, just the fact of him being with you.

TAEYONG

It took you a few weeks, but eventually you got used to the woman’s chatter. She’d tell you about her war theories, what her youngest did when she wasn’t around, what her husband liked to eat for dinner. She needed to talk, and you just nodded every now and then, asked a question when something she said was actually interesting. The polite atmosphere had to be upheld - you were working right next to one another. There was no place for feuds.

“I’ve heard some of the boys are already returning.” The woman told you. She was standing behind as you fixed the threads.

“Sounds too good to be true.” Had the machine turned on a second earlier, you’d have had one finger less. “Shit.”

“Have you got someone returning? I hope they let my oldest out.” She made no comment regarding the almost-an-accident. After all, it was just another day at the factory - things happened. Someone in a row in front of yours has even lost a leg. But that was just an unpleasant memory at this point.

“Yeah, I do have someone.”

She kept insisting on sharing that part of your life with her, but you didn’t know what else to tell her. It’s been months since your last letter from Taeyong. At that point, you were trying to get used to the thought that the news could have been bad. But they’d have told you, wouldn’t they? The possibilities were hard to gulp down, and so you returned to work.

Not long after, a wave of talking disturbed the production hall. You dropped the shears and looked around, trying to catch whatever made everyone so talkative all of sudden. Down the corridor, made in between stations, you caught a glimpse of green, so uncharacteristic for the browns and grays that workers wore. The green moved down, closer to your row. It had a spring to its step, an enthusiasm of a child.

You abandoned the material in another hand, now curious who had the courage to pass the factory’s gates. Silence took over the hall, and echoing steps joined a duet with the machines. It was coming closer and closer, until from behind the ragged material, a face appeared. Big eyes placed on thin features. An excitement written all over bitten lips.

“Taeyong?” Hardly believing it to be him, you didn’t call aloud. The woman you worked next to walked to your side.

“He’s yours?” You didn’t answer, eyes stuck on him only. It was as if you tried to find a reason not to believe in his existence. A flaw that would tell you it was all just a hallucination. It made no sense for him to be there - neither the place, nor the timing was right.

When he met your gaze, it was as if someone turned the lights on. Everything became clear. His cheeks spread under the weight of a smile. The spring turned into a run, and soon enough, your limp body was locked by a key to it all - Taeyong.

“You’re back.” You stated the obvious. Taeyong pulled away to look at your bewildered face. A shadow of doubt clouded his forehead, as if your disapproval was a possibility. “Oh fuck, you’re back.”

He didn’t answer, there was no time for him to do so. As soon as you swore, you pulled him back to you. The hollowness he left filled once again. This time, hopefully, for good.

YUTA

“Have you seen him?” A friend asked you. Reading through a wrinkled newspaper, you almost didn’t catch their words. But the question’s sense was enough to bring your heartbeat to speed up.

“Seen who?”

“Oh, come on!” They grabbed the paper straight out of your hands to hide it behind their back. “You know I’m talking about Yuta. Everybody knows about the two of you!”

That’s a story from two years before, when the man mentioned was just a neighborhood’s troublemaker and no soldier. And it’s not like there was any depth to you and Yuta. He has clearly shown it by the lack of communication you’ve suffered. Yes, there was never a label put on the you two, so distancing yourself from the mess would’ve been a logical thing to do. But somehow, as the time passed, you felt longing. You missed his teasing, dirty jokes, flirty smile, and just the sight of that beautiful face of his.

“And what exactly do they know about the two of us?” The friend opened their mouth. “There’s nothing to know, because we’re nothing.”

“So, like you didn’t send each other steamy love letters or something?”

The question made you laugh, partially because of the bluntness, partially out of bitterness. No letters. No communication. Nothing. You didn’t even know he came back.

“No? Search my drawers if you want to. There’s not a single thing with Yuta written on it.”

“Oh, come on!” You turned to play with the fountain’s cold water. Despite the gloomy aftermath of the war and a busy everyday, you’ve found some time to celebrate the Summer. “(y/n)-”

You hummed at them to continue, but no words came out. Irritated by their silence, despite the clear sign for continuation, you looked up to see them staring at the space behind you.

A pair of hands landed on your shoulders, joined by a scream meant to scare you. Surprised (alright, terrified), you were quick to turn around. The person responsible was none other, but Yuta himself. So he really was back.

His wide smile shone next to the Sun, a welcoming gift he offered you. One of his hands remained on your shoulder, as if it was completely okay to touch an almost-stranger like that.

“Look who’s that.” Yuta turned to the side, his smile turning cold at your friend. His head motioned for them to leave. They were quicker than your reaching hand - abandoned you alone with the man as if that was okay. Yuta sat down next to you on the fountain’s edge. “My favorite neighbor.”

“Oh, am I? Do you even know my name?” But he didn’t grow annoyed at your tone. If anything, your words have made him even happier.

“So you did miss me!”

“Why would I miss you?”

“Because I’m me and you’re crazy in love with this guy.” There he motioned at himself. “

“We’re not even friends, so relax. Welcome home, or whatever.”

Yuta was watching as you stood up and walked away. As far away from him as possible. That meant few meters, until he caught up to you and pulled you through the bushes to a small private space. Somewhere you’ve used to meet. His arms circled around your waist, but you didn’t stop him.

“Don’t be mad now. I needed to see whether you’d miss me.” “I mean two years is enough to get over someone.” “And did you?” “Hm? “Did you get over me?”

You had no answer to that. Because yes, you still felt it. Your silence was enough for Yuta. His grip tightened and he pulled you closer to his face.

“It’s alright. I didn’t get over you either.”

DOYOUNG

After a couple of days of constant rainfall, you’ve forgotten what a sunny day looked like. The gray sky has loomed over your head as if in sync with your anxious thoughts. A companion to your walks in the mornings and evenings. At least it has somehow made you less alone. If you were sad, then the world was too.

The Sun’s return felt like a promise. Things were going to be okay. Eventually, hopefully. Its rays woke you up and walked you home, a substitute companion. It has taken over the gray sky’s role, but did better. The blinding sunlight was drawing a smile on your face with its warmth. It carried your body in a light step, made it take up a longer route home.The world seemed much more enjoyable than it really was.

The house you’ve lived in stood in its place. The white wall now slightly yellow, while the light bounced off of the windows. It felt like a proper home. Like it’d shield you from the doubts and wrongs of real life.

Stepping inside, you caught the sound of your grandmother’s voice. She didn’t tell you about a guest, did she? You were in no state to appear in front of others. Your shirt had a dry oil stain on it.

“Oh, it must be (y/n)!” She sounded excited. “Where have you been for so long?!”

Her voice was floating from the dining room, and so you headed towards it, right after taking off a bit too tight pair of shoes. There was no escaping now that she heard you making a ruckus in the hallway. The guest would have to deal with your tragic state.

“At work! Where else-”

There, in front of the old woman, was a male silhouette. A thin and tall person with wide shoulders. His shoes were black and tatty on the tips. Trousers were somehow too long, so their dirty ends pooled behind his heels. The jacket could use some proper ironing, but it didn’t matter because your eyes reached where the collar made space for the neck. A pointy chin, opened lips, hollow cheeks, the tip of a nose and finally, the dark eyes.

A long year has passed since the last time you’ve heard him say your name. It was hoarse, filled with disbelief and quiet. Nevertheless you could hear him well.

“Doyoung?” He closed the distance, never looking away from you.

His arms have always been strong, but now you could feel more muscles than fat. His cheeks, although always slender, were now sunken, dark. He smelled of sweat - his favorite cologne nowhere to be found. Hugging him didn’t feel the same to what you were used to, but you were more than ready to make new customs.

“Why didn’t you let me know you were coming back?” He leaned back, so you could look at one another.

One of hands let go to wipe a smudge of oil off your cheek.

“It was meant to be a surprise.”

“You big old goof.” He faked a frown. Faked, because his wide smile couldn’t be hidden.

JAEHYUN

Hugging yourself tightly, you scanned the crowd in search of the promised land, or at least the one Jaehyun has told you about before he was shipped off to fight for the country.

From all you remembered, it had dark eyes, a handsome face and strong arms. The rest was an unknown you were willing to find out, had it been the same as you’ve seen it last, or different, as an effect of its stay. Frankly, you didn’t care how much he has changed - you just wanted him back.

Someone ran past you, screaming incoherently. The motion of a person moving so close made you take a step back, straight into a stranger’s chest. Or maybe not a stranger’s.

“Sor- Jaehyun!” He laughed, proud of his little prank. “How long have you been standing here?”

“For quite some time? I was waiting until you’d realize.”

There was a desire to punch him in the shoulder, but you busied your hands with embracing him instead. It was even better than getting an offended yelp out of him. Although you’ve been crying over how little you remember of his hugs, having him in your hold again made every fact came back. The way he liked your hands the best. How long he needed the embraces to last. Where his nose needed to hide, before he could sigh happily.

Jaehyun promised you a land you were looking forward to, but knew all about.

The only surprise was a weird texture of his skin at the back of his neck. One of your fingers played with it when the man in your hold shivered. The time for welcoming embraces ended.

“What was that?”

“Ah, nothing.” Jaehyun looked to the side, but as soon as he realized that it was like showing you the place he didn’t want to uncover, he put his arm there.

None of his tactics worked. The redness of burns ended at his jawline. You could see it clear as day.

“Don’t be weird about it. I can see your scars.”

Jaheyun groaned in frustration, changing sides so you couldn’t see a thing. He stood in stubborn silence, waiting for the end of whatever he thought needed to end. Nobody spoke for some time, until you couldn’t hold it in any longer and asked “Are you that ashamed of them?”.

“Am I still handsome with them?” His question was a laughing matter. How could a scar make him any less beautiful? “What are you laughing at?”

“Haven’t you heard that scars are considered very attractive?”

Jaehyun looked back at you. The arm he was using to hide his neck dropped to the side, and he seized your body questioningly, as if there was an answer to all the things that bothered him. Well- who knows? Maybe there was?

“Are they? I thought that was just a myth, you know, to make people feel better.”

You smiled teasingly, looping fingers at the edges of his belt.

“Well, I would most certainly disagree with that being a myth.”

He nodded, considering your words. At a silent question of your raised eyebrow, Jaehyun exhaled, grabbed one of your hands, and pulled you towards the station’s exit.

WINWIN

Sicheng stood in his bedroom with an expression one could only call unreadable. He felt weird without his uniform, regular trousers and shirt irritating his tormented body. They should be his solace, solid ground to stomp on with the war behind him. And yet the material was an unwelcome texture that covered the visible marks of his maturity. He wasn’t a boy anymore, like his room presented - with its childish wallpaper and a small collection of toys placed neatly on the shelf. Sicheng was a man raised by the military. If there had been something he was the best at, it would be shooting and carrying out the orders.

That’s partially why he was wary of coming face to face with his old life. Realizing how twisted he had to be now in comparison to his younger self was something he wanted to avoid. Of course, he failed the task as sentiment took over him as soon as he saw his plastic horses on shelves. But the picture he was now looking at, tucked in the frame of the big mirror, was even more overwhelming. He didn’t remember why it stayed at home instead of being in his pockets through it all. The nervousness of leaving must’ve made him forget about it.

After a longer moment of hesitation, his hand abandoned the safety of his thigh to grab the photograph and look at it from a smaller distance. Slick paper was aging quickly, but Sicheng couldn’t find it in himself to curse whoever did such a poor job for the large amount of money he had to pay. You were smiling fondly at him from the picture, and he imagined you doing the same once he would see you. Sadly, doubt had a strange habit of returning to him so often these past few years that the dreams of your grin quickly turned into ones blurred by his own tears. What could await him by your side?

Both excitement and dread pushed him to leave his house behind and ride a bus to find out how disturbing the reality was. Many things stayed the same, like the raw walls of your flat’s corridor or the depth of your neighbor’s wrinkles. Only little things changed and yet they were difficult to spot.

In front of the old doors he had second thoughts and was close to turning around. As soon as he did that, his usually steady hands let go of the bouquet of flowers, and he made too much noise gathering them together.

The entrance behind him was opening in sync with his legs straightening, so when he stood up, your eyes were already watching his. In all honesty, he expected you to look alien, as if it was the first time he has ever seen you. But it was completely different. You were familiar in every possible aspect of existing. The changes were like in your surroundings - little, invisible to someone that didn’t know you as well as Sicheng did. The man in front of you could instantly point out the difference in your hair’s length, a new scar decorating your face, how thin you’ve become thanks to the harsh years of war... All of these brought him both sadness and happiness. Sadness, because you were affected and happiness, because the memory that kept him sane at night was identical to the reality.

He was so lost in the sight of you, he didn’t even notice how strange he looked to you, although your face was an open book just for him to read. Maybe if he had noticed, he would lose all of his courage and eventually escape the daunting atmosphere.

“Hey.” He managed to say in the softest of tones that remained the same even after the war. His hand gripping the ruined bouquet of flowers shot in your direction to offer the small gift. “It’s been a while.”

His words sounded so dumb to you, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to hold the laughter back. Not at them, but rather from happiness you felt. Sicheng smiled shyly when your fingers skimmed his meanwhile taking the flowers. One could say that you were magnets - naturally pulling towards one another after just a simple exchange of touches.

In your embrace, he didn’t think about the doubt, he thought about you. Just you in general. Happy, teary-eyed, with harsh hands and soft kisses, in your lowest low but on the cloud nine as soon as he returned into the picture. How could he feel doubt when your salty lips were endlessly smooching his dimples?

JUNGWOO

Your first thought seeing the boy you used to know, was just a confirmation that somehow you’ve lost any certainty about him.

Kim Jungwoo has changed in almost every possible aspect. There were shadows of wrinkles on his forehead. Hair that he used to wear long was still short from the army. Cheeks, usually full and pushed to the sides by a genuine smile, were now thin and falling in on themselves. Lips looked pale. Though you couldn’t see their texture, you knew they had to be dry. Only his eyes remained somehow similar as they held the last bits of innocence. Brown orbs were swinging between focus and the lack of it, easily getting distracted by the simplest things. Jungwoo’s body language was similar - he would either attempt the bad-boy-leaning-against-a-counter pose or catch himself returning to standing straight as his head turned to look at something. Two men that he was with were bent over their drinks, talking to one another without paying too much attention to their third companion.

“Is this really Kim Jungwoo?” A friend spilled her blond locks on the table as she positioned herself to take a better look at the young man in question. “My my, hasn’t he changed a lot?”

Her wide eyes turned to yours. The message she was trying to send you wasn’t clear. What did she expect you to say in return?

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m a little surprised too.”

“A little? You’ve been basically drooling for at least ten minutes now.” Blonde slapped your arm teasingly. “But hey, not judging. Little Jungwoo sure turned into a dreamboat.”

Embarrassed by her words, you turned your head away. You were unwilling to admit she was right. Because yes, the innocent boy that has always been incredibly shy, changed into an attractive man with confidence radiating off of his body. You couldn’t accept the change both in him and the way your own eyes were yearning to look at his features.

When his eyes met yours, you froze in the seat, a sheepish smile turning into a straight line. Jungwoo didn’t wait. A wide smile blossomed on his face, and he instantly walked over.

Without anything else to do, your gaze landed on Jungwoo’s on. He must have been as shocked as you by the chance meeting. His lips were parted and thick eyebrows have risen high up. None of them overshadowed an evident smile.

“Jungwoo!” Your friend sang from the spot next to you.

The young man spared her a single glance as he welcomed her, but quickly returned to stare at your face. You could feel the knowing gaze your friend was giving you. After few awkward seconds of some sort of a staring contest, she elbowed you to do something.

“Maybe you should go and catch up?” The girl offered with clenched teeth.

Startled, you finally pushed yourself up and out of the crowded booth to stand next to Jungwoo. Slightly intimidated by his bold gaze, you asked “Want to go for a walk?”

The laughter he answered with was bold and confident, but Kim Jungwoo wasted no time in offering you his arm.

“Happily.”

MARK

The first thing his sleepy features did, was frown. The headache was painful, but seconds later it left, as he remained frozen in place. You wouldn’t have noticed, had it been not for your position. His face was in your peripheral vision, just above the book you were reading.

It came out of nowhere. Nobody knew when he’d wake up. All you had to do was wait, because he could breathe. As a very tired doctor has repeated to you every day - time was the best remedy. And so you waited. The fact that he finally woke up? You didn’t believe it. Frozen in place, unsure whether to stay or call for a nurse, you waited. If the time was the best remedy, then it had to be the best judge as well.

Mark’s eyelashes fluttered before he allowed the world inside. As soon as he did, he closed them as well. On and off again, he blinked rapidly, trying to get used to the light. The book closed in your hands. His nose scrunched. Fingers straightened at his sides. An inaudible voice told you to reach for them, but you gripped the book tighter instead.

“Is he waking up?” You looked back at one of the five men that were all locked inside the hospital’s room. His left arm was gone, but it didn’t stop him from looking positively at the world. Every then and now he’d busy you with a small talk, and you’ve grown sympathetic towards him.

“Yes.” Upon turning back towards Mark, his dark eyes met yours. His face didn’t change an expression, but you knew he recognized you. Something about the sparks in his eyes that every author loved to bring up.

A small smile of relief blossomed on your features. The spreading warmth told you - it’s going to be alright now. If Mark had woken up, then he had been on the road to fast recovery.

“Hi.” You knelt down by the side of his bed. The corner of a nightstand pressed painfully at your body, but you wanted to be as close to Mark as possible.

Still sleepy, with eyes half-closed, he smiled back. His hand moved a little in your direction, but it was too weak to reach it. Not the one to deny him, you beat the distance yourself, transporting his hand to your face. It felt cold against your cheek.

“Hi.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Hmm-” a yawn blocked him for a moment. “Tired.” His voice was hoarse, as expected from someone who has slept for almost a week.

“That’s alright. You’ve been out of it for quite some time-”

“Have I? How long?”

“Six days.”

“Ouch.”

His reaction made you giggle quietly, and his small frown was quickly replaced by another smile. You couldn’t stop yourself from placing a comforting kiss on his forehead. Mark watched you silently, his eyes still glossy.

“I should go and call the nurse. They need to give you a good check, now that you’re awake.”

“You’re going?” He looked as if you have kicked his puppy. Fingers attempted to lock around your hand, but it was fruitless. Mark was weak, and he couldn’t even hold a limb up.

“I’ll be right back.” Before he could say anything more, you left. Although aware that nothing felt real, you didn’t want to start the topic of war. The time would come. For now, you’d like to act as if it has never happened.

HAECHAN

The concrete blocks felt hot under the palms of your hands. Compared to the pleasant warmth seeping through your trousers, the firsthand contact felt like touching lava. You wouldn’t have known, but you could only guess it had to be as painful.

The radio speaker has been repeating all day, like a mantra, the weather was a gift at the end of the war. You didn’t feel like the hotness was any sort of a gift, though you haven’t decided yet, whether you loved it or not. The last year was nothing, but a series of undecided opinions. Lonely, watching as your entire neighborhood disappeared, you felt like the whole world has died. Now, all that remained just broken shells of tortured souls.

You remembered the past. The games of hide and seek, limited only by the crossroads at the ends of your street. Stolen cigarettes smoked behind the closest factory. Rumors repeated every time you saw someone, because there was not much happening in the lives of teenagers stuck in their little world.

The noise of an engine filled the street’s void. A woman hanging laundry on a balcony on the other side of the street, looked down to search for its source. Your head turned too, but the hotness bouncing off of the asphalt made it impossible for you to make the features out. Only one thing was sure - a car was coming your way. You didn’t want to stand up for nothing, so you placed hands on your feet as if to nail them to the ground.

“Where is the orchestra? Where are the balloons?”

It couldn’t be- could it? He had to be a mirage. The last time you saw Lee Donghyuck was a year ago, when he sneaked into your bedroom in the middle of the night. The next morning he was supposed to leave for the war, so he decided to kiss you goodbye. One small kiss that tasted of cigarettes was all you remembered him for. And his striped pajamas. A stark contrast to his current green uniform.

The man jumped off the car’s back and waved at the driver to go. The other man honked before pressing the accelerator on.

“You won’t even stand up to welcome me?” His words made you push yourself up.

For some reason, although he stood in front of you, real, he didn’t feel right. There had to be a hook, a switch that would make him fade away into oblivion once the wrong motion was made. You wanted to believe in him, but the loneliness you experienced has left a mark on your mind.

“What’s up with you?” He took your sunglasses off. “Oh, you’re so happy to see me, I left you speechless, right?” A brilliant and cocky smile lightened up his features.

Stuck in a loop of opening and closing your mouth, because you had so much and, simultaneously, so little to say, you never answered. Instead, your eyes wandered around his face, taking in all the signs of change that the past months have left on him.

Donghyuck was missing an ear. Where your eyes were used to seeing a shell-like organ, there was nothing. Your fingers reached for the empty spot and rubbed at the still delicate skin.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Although he tried to sound brave, you caught the glimpse of uncertainty in his voice.

He has rarely shown insecurity, so the idea of experiencing that new part of his- Perhaps the whole idea of being able to experience him, made you finally smile.

“It’s super cool.”

“Yeah, I know. Captain said I will be getting a medal for my service.”

Laughing to yourself, because that was such a dumb thing to worry about in the present moment, you embraced Donghyuck’s frame. He returned it instantly, locking his arms so tightly around you, it hurt. But- You know what? There was no but. You accepted the embrace laughing.

➛ pollenat’s list of headcanons

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

➛ pollenat’s list of scenarios

#that moment when instead of doing what you must do you scroll down to your oldest draft and finish it #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop fanfiction #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct au #nct fanfiction #nct x reader #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 au #nct 127 fanfiction #pollenat's scenarios

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alistonjdrake · 4 years

Text

Adapting Historical Fashion for the Fantasy Eye

I’m back. Why? Because we’ve seen a resurgence of people talking about corsets and whether they were the death traps some would like you to believe (they weren’t and we’re not here to discuss that but I beg you to do some research), people not knowing that there is a vibrant and active historical fashion community who either engage in history bounding (dressing up in period accurate clothing) or add elements of it to their daily lives, and just as always people not knowing the difference between stays and corsets.

But, June, you say. You’re a fantasy writer. What does historically accurate clothing have to do with anything? Historical accuracy is for losers. And to that I say, you are correct. But if you’re using something that has a heavy historical context (like clothing, technology, etc) you might as well know a thing or two about the subject before looking a fool. If only because readers like me notice the small things and cry OR because the aesthetics are cool but knowing where they come from and how they can be changed to fit your world is even cooler.

Fashion defines a society. Fashion defines a culture. What garments are important? What garments are the same among the upper and lower class? Do their roles as garments change depending on class? (ex: stays were often wore “out” for working class women while upper class women would see them strictly as undergarments) How do fashion trends define the eras? It’s not hard to notice that throughout history nearly every decade as a definite silhouette. It’s not hard to tell the difference from a regency era gown from an early Victorian gown to a late Victorian one. They all look vastly different.

I’m not asking anyone to know the ins and out of historical clothing but it doesn’t hurt to read up on it or look at some existing examples. To know the anatomy and construction of what would make a complete outfit (or to read about what people might wear for a given situation if no artwork or garment exists). It all feeds into how your characters hold themselves, how they might be able to move. It’s not so much that people were just “Shaped Differently” back then. Their clothes were constructed with a certain poise or look in mind. And y’know. I just want to stop seeing modern underwear in fantasy underneath historical clothing while we all pretend the undergarments don’t contribute greatly to the finished overall look.

But again, you’re right. We’re not writing historical fiction here. We don’t need to have every mention of clothing in our fantasy novels be completely in line with the point in time we might be basing our setting off of. This is about adaptation.

Adapting Historical Fashion for Non-Historical Purposes.

I’ve said it a bunch by now I’m sure. My books take place in a world based off the late 18th century. Why? I dig it. As such, when I first started putting together the aesthetics of the world that period was also my go to. I know I already did a whole thing on culture and society but really this is more or less just about how fashion can amplify those two things. I mentioned setting and what fabrics might be commonly used or found. And what might make sense to use (lighter, breathy fabrics for hot climates vs thicker fabrics and furs for cold ones) vs ones considered high class and enviable or with trends that might be coming from other countries that have stronger influence.

When I take real life fashion and shove it into my world (give or take a few changes) I usually ask myself a few things first.

1. Who controls the fashion trends?

The younger generation, the monarchs, a group of travelers who just look super stellar? Who is the rest of the community following when it comes to the newest look and what elements of it are they trying to steal/adapt? What element is the thing that really catches on?

Anyone who knows me knows I’m a huge fan of waistcoats and breeches and stockings, tailed coats with flaps (although anyone who reads my book will also know I axed powdered wigs. Because I could.) But to just copy wouldn’t say much about the opulent and flamboyant Escana. To increase the idea of the vanity and the peacock attitude of the younger, partying courtiers I have young men who usually dye their stockings to match their waistcoats (because colored socks > white or black socks) and forgo the coat to show off sleeve details as well as lose some of that “seriousness”. It says a lot about them while still remaining in a circle that gives readers a clue as to where my inspiration came from.

2. Who disagrees with the fashion trends?

And how does their disagreement influence the perception of certain garments or the people who wear them? Just read one thing about how evil corsets are and how crinolines are literally cages for women and how many of us go around thinking Victorian ladies fainted every time they opened a window and understand these perceptions can be long-lasting and completely change an outsider’s opinion on how people lived. Granted for world-building or story purposes hopefully these will be happening currently instead of being a huge misunderstanding of history.

Over and over again I say things like cultures not being monoliths but neither are generations and there’s nothing that makes a world feel more lived in and full than people who don’t all wear a uniform based vaguely on what the author thinks a medieval gown looked like. It’s just also sometimes nice to get tidbits like a character wearing a scandalous or pricey color just to look good even if they can’t afford it. Is it usually super vital to the plot and story? No. If used sparingly can it be fun background information to how the society your character lives in works or views things? Sure.

3. Colors and fabrics and spares, oh my

Okay. That’s not a question. But it’s an umbrella for me to put my thoughts under. Because I live in the 21st century I don’t often think about things like dyes or luxury fabrics but this would be front of mind for most of my characters. Not everyone can afford to wear certain colors, or certain colors come with a context that means they shouldn’t be worn for certain situations or for certain people and the same could be said for fabric. We live with these fashion rules now (although I’m not so strict in my memory of them because my current life doesn’t depend on it, but I do write about princes and courts so it’s more important for a courtier to not wear a happy color to a funeral than for me. Or things like no white after labor day).

Hand-me-downs. I grew up wearing them. They were common in history and should be more common in fantasy. If a family was not wealthy they could only afford so much fabric or to follow fashion trends for their eldest. It wouldn’t be unheard of for a family to still be wearing clothes considered “outdated” and it’s not like we all just throw our clothes out when they get old. While a trend might have moved onto a new silhouette or something, someone with less means might still be wearing decades-old clothing that have held up well (these clothes were built to last. Fast fashion could never) or could have chosen not to jump on the trend at all. In my book, the opulent courtiers and royals of Graza Palace dress completely different than some traditionalists who wear garments more native to Escan before it was an empire that are completely different from the suits and 18th century gowns I’ve borrowed. They’re timeless and probably see a lot more turnover from one family member to the next than a gown that could be out of style in a year.

4. And lastly, making sure I’m not turning it into a costume

This becomes important when taking garments that have a cultural context in the real world and using something similar to it or basing another garment off of it. I would start with this for the purposes of using culture clues to ease someone into what actual culture the fantasy one is taking inspiration from to give them a taste of what certain things might look like without going into full detail but it’s key to then know what makes these garments...these garments so you’re not bastardizing them. Why do people wear them? (especially if a form is still worn in modern times) What are they usually made out of? What are the occasions they are worn for? A respectful nod to something will just add to your world building, a costume rendition with 0 understanding of how certain garments will work will just make it seem like all your characters are in cosplay.

So in conclusion: No, I’m not advocating you be historically accurate for your already not historically accurate but it pays to look into why your basing clothing off a certain period and what goes into making that piece of clothing...that piece of clothing. Why it looks that way, how someone wearing it would look/hold themselves, and what it means in the context of your setting as well as things you might change and take extra liberties with for the purpose of storytelling. Clothing can add character and it could be just as useful a tool in world building (in my biased opinion) as language given that fashion can have such a huge impact on people but it can also fall flat.

#june trash #world building #worldbuilding #tss trilogy #thanks for letting me rant #I'm glad I got that out #never post another picture of a robe a la anglaise and say something about corsets again if you wish to live

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fruitsvillage · 4 years

Note

Could we please get a tutorial on how you did your latest lookbook? Ily 💌💌

ok this is gonna be a long post so under the cut is a general tutorial, i cant go step by step exactly as i did it since i didn’t save the editing file, but here’s at least my basic process i always start out with, plus how to do the silhouette effect i used in the last example!! also i’m not sure about your experience level re: image editing or digital art so i’m going to try and explain it in a way that hopefully anyone can understand but please feel free to come to me with more questions!! Also my screen res is very wide but I wanted to be able to show off where all the menus are, so clicking on the images for full view may be necessary for you.

OK so step 0 is gathering materials- you will need a photo that you want to edit plus an image editing program. You can easily get photo’s from your switch with the switch’s built in image sharing mode, either by posting them to facebook or twittter, and then saving them to your computer from there. Or if you have a computer that can read a microsd card or you have a microsd card reader you can plug into your machine, you can transfer images that way. The only other thing we need is an image editing software. I will be showing you my process by using Clip Studio Paint but you don’t need to use this specific program. I personally recommend using a program that allows for transparency even if the end result isnt transparent because it’s easier to move layers and elements around but that being said you COULD edit images with a program as simple as microsoft paint. There are free more advanced softwares out there like krita, gimp, fire alpaca, etc.

Step 1) While this step isnt necessary, I personally run my images through a filter to reduce the JPEG noise, to smooth out edges and to make the image clearer. You can also use websites or apps that do this for you like waifu2x or yome2x if you want.

Step 2) Isolate your subject from the image’s background. You can either choose to just erase away directly on the image layer or you can use selection tools to choose the parts of the image you are going to separate first. I prefer the selection method because then I can use a masking layer which I’ll get into in the next step. You’ll want to erase or select out everything except for your character (or other photo elements you want included in there too like if you decorate a bit). There are many different ways you can use the selection tools depending on if you want to opt for speed or for the cleanest possible edges. I usually use the magic wand tool to get a good chunk of my selection and then go in with the selection brush for precision.

Step 2.5) If you have opted to select out your desired subject then the next step is to create a masking layer. The easiest way to do this is to finish your selection and then to hit the Quick Mask button circled in yellow, it is represented in my version of CSP as a rectangle with a dark circle inside. This will automatically create a mask including everything except your selection, making those unselected elements completely transparent. The mask if shown to the immediate right of the affected layer. The black bits are what is hidden and the white is what is shown. You can edit the mask using the brush and eraser tools- the brush will expose hidden bits of the layer and the eraser will hide. You can also create a layer mask by opening the Layer menu at the top of the window > Layer Mask> Create from Selection. This is how it works in CSP, other softwares may not make use of the eraser tool but instead only the brush tool will be needed to edit a mask. I encourage you to search the web (google, duckduckgo, etc) “masking layer + (your drawing program)” for specifics on your particular program.

Step 4) Now comes the silhouette effect specifically from my lookbook post. Duplicate the character layer. This will create an identical layer for us to edit.

Step 5) Create a new empty layer and make sure it is on Top of yhe layer we just duplicated in the above step. Then create a Clipping Layer using the empty layer. Clipping layers will chain to the layer immediately below, and allow you to create effects that only affect the layer it is attached to. You may chain multiple clipping layers to a single layer in order to layer almost infinite effects.

Step 6) Using the fill/Paint Bucket tool, fill the empty clipping layer with your preferred color. Notice how the layer is technically completely filled with yellow, but it only shows up in the actual image as the shape of the layer the clipping layer is attached to!

Step 7) Reorder your layers so the original layer we started with is displayed on top.

Step 8) Use the move tool to drag either the copied layer or the original layer around to a position of your liking. You can then repeat this process as many times as you want, using whatever colors or gradients or brushes or textures you like.

Step 9) Draw or import textures or clip art* or literally whatever to decorate your image how you like. Elements from this piece include a heart shaped brush that came with CSP for free, a polka dot screen tone brush I downloaded for free from the CSP shared asset website, and hand drawn elements and lettering done by me! *When using materials you find on the internet for your edit work please, please make sure you have permission to use it. Don’t take art from people’s art blogs and turn them into stickers or whatever unless u have permission. If you dont want to draw it out yourself i recommend searching the web for royalty free clip art or textures. Hopefully this tutorial was what you were looking for! If not you can always ask me more questions and if it’s helpful or interesting for anyone out there the next time I make a lookbook edit I can record that as a video so you can see my step by step process as I actually create the image,

#long post #chatter #anon #acnh lookbook #tutorial #Anonymous

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helenazbmrskai · 4 years

Text

YOONGI AS A MERMAN💜🧡❤🧜‍♂️

• The lake deep in the heart of the forest is a 15-minute walk from the city

• You always thought that place holds a supernatural beauty to it and you liked how mysterious the atmosphere felt there

• every brush from the wind on your skin or how the lake's surface shake with every movement a leaf landed on it

• It was not something most people found breathtaking the lake's water is muddy and not see-through but pretty flowers swimming on the veneer makes up for that

• You felt like you were being watched by someone the presence felt nice despite how uncomfortable you felt the first time you discovered this place

• After that, you didn't show up for two weeks but the image of the lake at the back of your head never left your subconscious so here you were

• This city was unfamiliar to you the only purpose why were you here is because this town has a good psychologist and you are determined to pick up your pieces

• Asking for help is never easy but after months of sessions you felt better after a long time you wanted to think about your future and you were not afraid anymore to look back to your past

• You sit down at the nearby rock you always occupy when you visit this place

• After a minute or two, you can feel eyes locking with your form you are still not sure if it's just your mental state playing a cruel joke with you or someone is really there

• You tried to talk to the person even though he never replied but you never stopped despite the lack of response you talked about your progress you shared your thoughts with the mysterious shadow lurking in the background and talked about your daily life what you like to eat what is your favourite colour you shared anything you can think of at that moment

• But this time you remained silent you come here every day for at least the past 2 weeks and no one responded so far to your aimless bubbling

• So you just watched the scenery taking in the wet mud and the scents of the blossoming flowers by inhaling deeply

• You liked the smell of after rain when the soil is soaked it makes the view more dreamy

• "Why aren't you talking human?"

• A voice broke the silence and a head appeared from the muddy water you almost fell of the rock and hit your head on it but you could stabilize yourself in the last moments before the disaster would eventually happen

• "Why are you in the lake? You will catch a cold!"

• The man laughed shaking his head to the side that this is the first thing that pops up in your head of all the things you could say

• "No need to worry about me. I am living in this lake."

• You regard him for a couple of seconds not quite understanding the whole 'I live in this lake' concept

• "Are you a swamp monster?" Your eyes widen standing up from your sitting position to getaway

• "This is the most insulting question I was ever asked in my long lifespan. For your information, I am no monster. I am a merman or mermaid, choose what you want."

• "A m-mermaid? Am I dreaming or hallucinating from the anti-depressants?"

• The merman rolled his eyes at your comment swimming elegantly closer to the grassy edge the lake water clearer at that part and you can see the silhouette of a big tail guiding him through the water

• "You were the one stalking me then, all this time?"

• He groans offended by your every word

• "I am not stalking you. This is my lake. You are the one stalking me."

• "I am not!" You protest and it's earned a toothy grin from the mythical creature.

• "Why are you looking like that? Do you have a fever? You're as red as a sea worm."

• "I can't believe a merman said I look like a worm! You take that back!" You yell at him offended by the indication even forgetting the fact why were you so embarrassed that your whole face turned red.

• "I didn't say you look like one just as red as one."

• He had the audacity to roll his eyes again at you like you are some kind of moron

• "I liked you better when you were silent." You sit down again to the same rock and the boy you still don't know the name of swims closer

• "Wait. I am coming here for two weeks now on a row why are you appearing in front of me now? And do you have a name or should I call you fish guy?"

• You call me that again and you'll never see the sight of me, I dare you!"

• "Ok, ok I understand. No need to be this rude. God. What a grumpy merman."

• " I am not! My name is Yoongi so make sure to use it."

• After the faithful encounter, you guys are becoming closer your visits to the lake expands in time because you no longer the only one talking to yourself and Yoongi even bother to ask questions he seems curious about you in general

• You nudge him to tell you elements about himself saying that you were talking for two weeks and now it's his turn

• At first, he seemed shy to tell you about his life he enjoyed more when you were talking and he listened

• "Yoongi." You call out his name your mood is gloomy and you know Yoongi noticed it as well but didn't comment on it

• for the past few weeks, you had a good spirit and you were cheerful but not today

• "Yes? What is it?"

• His elbows firmly set on the grass beside you his head is positioned in his palms looking into your eyes concern swimming in his warm expression as he waits for you to speak what is on your mind today

• "This is my last week." Instead of his eyes, you look up gaping at the different shapes of clouds littering the sky even the weather is grim not just your mood. The sun is hiding behind those fluffy looking white pillows.

• "What do you mean?" Yoongi touches your thigh want you to look at him instead of the view.

• "You know why I am here originally right?"

• You obligate locking gazes with him he mirrors the sadness you feel right now

• "You're getting treated your depression here."

• You nod. He suddenly realizes what you mean. If your session is over this week that means you have no reason to stay here and you're going back to where you came from.

• "Are you leaving this week? Saturday? Sunday? When?" His palm is firmer against your skin until now it was a lingering touch but now he is holding onto you like you can disappear before he can get the answer to his question.

• "At the end of the week. That's when my therapy ends."

• After you leave that day you feel something is squeezing your heart painfully

• You turn up the next day and the next day spending time with Yoongi as much as you can this week almost every meeting ends up finishing when the sky is no longer ruled by the sun but the moon is peeking and stars illuminating the lake and the two of you talking

• You don't mention the topic which obviously weighing down both of your hearts and he doesn't talk about it either

• But Sunday comes sooner than you wished to

• You had your luggage with you when you went to see Yoongi for the last time

• You abandon your spot when he appears above the water and you crouch down to be closer to him you know you should say goodbye but the only thing you can do is look into his eyes

• "I have to confess something before you leave. I wanted to tell you this for a long time now. I was about to tell you what's on my mind lately that night you said you're going to leave so I thought I shouldn't make things harder than it already is. But I feel I could die if I can't tell you."

• Yoongi clasped your hands in his holding them gently but fixed you would normally laugh at that a seaweed is glued to his wet fingers but not now when he is wearing such a pained expression

• "I love you, my human. Even if you leave my feelings won't change towards you. I hate that it will make parting ways more painful but I just needed you to know that you are so dear to me."

• "I love you too Yoongi. I won't leave you. I don't think I can handle that I want to be by your side." You hold him closer hugging his body flush against you not caring that you'll get soggy.

• "B-but your stuff is there." He can't believe what he is hearing his eyes trained on the luggage you left behind.

• "I had to leave the facility because my therapy is over but I maybe bought a small house at the foot of the forest at the last moment instead of a train ticket and I just wanted to see you as soon as I packed up. So here I am."

• "You silly human. You got me miserable for a moment. I really thought that's it for us."

• "But I am your silly human." You smile at him but you are soon muffled with a wet kiss against your lips.

#merman!yoongi #yoongi aesthetic #merman au #bts mermaid au #merman #yoongi imagine #min yoongi #yoongi drabble #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #merman!bts

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ablogcalledrevenge · 4 years

Text

Potential (A General Hux x Reader Insert Multi-Chapter Fic, Rated T)

Chapter Four

The sex did help, infrequent as it was sometimes. It was easier to talk once the clothes and pretenses had been removed and the both of you were more relaxed. It felt safer, in a way, to engage in pillow talk. It was easier to talk about everything, from your treasonous plot to the shipment of fruit that the ship received.

Because you and Hux still fought, still argued. True, you hadn’t had a fight like that first one. You were grateful for that. But you and your husband were both headstrong people with specific wants and ideas. Arguing about it made sense, but there was an underlying respect there that wasn’t present before. The fights never went on too long, or got too vicious. Usually, after getting your initial frustration out- sometimes through yelling and sometimes through sex- you were able to figure out a solution.

Hux was trying, and you could appreciate that. You did appreciate that. You understood his background, the way he had been raised. Sympathy you had in spades for him. So to have him take a breath before responding in cruel anger, or thank you for something you did, meant the world to you. There was a vulnerability he was starting to let show. Only visible in the darkness of your bedroom or the steam from the shower. It wasn’t a quick or perfect process but he was trying. In return, you were too.

You were trying to be less stubborn, less haughty. You’d been crafting these ideas and plans for so long but you had to be open to change and collaboration. That’s why you got married after all. You wanted someone to work with. You didn’t want to be alone. You’re surprised you didn’t realize it earlier, but neither does Hux. You’ve both been denied so much in different ways that perhaps this marriage was always going to happen. You’re not ashamed or embarrassed to admit how much you need him now, how much you want him. Thankfully, he echoes your sentiment and his genuine affection for you is visible in every space you share together.

You hear several beeps as you get dressed, memories from the night before dissipating in your head. You’re about to turn around from your bureau to see the cause of the noise when it reveals itself in the form of a fast wheeling mouse droid quickly zipping back into it’s charging post. Then, as if on cue, your Tooka bounds out from under the bed. You snatch her up before she attempts to attack the poor droid.

“Now Millie, we’ve talked about this. No hunting the droids. You have plenty of toys to chase after, leave Messy alone.” You scold, placing her on a tall carpeted ledge. Meowing once, she stretches languorously before curling up on her perch. Shaking your head, you playfully swat at her bushy orange and white tail before continuing your morning routine.

Your husband had asked you to accompany him on the bridge today. This was both to learn more about his job and the ship you lived on and to have you present for a council meeting later. It was a good idea, you concede as you put on your shoes. Shouldn’t a wife be interested in her husband’s work, especially when it surrounded their lives? Shouldn’t a wife of a high ranking general get to know her husband’s superiors? If you were also going to be analyzing each and every one of them for weaknesses, well, that was just between you and your husband.

Getting rid of an entire High Council is not an easy or quick task but you’ve always been patient. The Council has 7 members, all older Imperial officers, with no one waiting in the wings. It’s honestly very telling that these men consider themselves so powerful and irreplaceable that they have not provided someone to step into their roles should something happen. But their folly was your gain and you revel in the exploitation to come.

“Well Millie, what do you think?” You ask the kitten, twirling in a small circle. Though she does perk up at the mention of her name, she barely spares you a glance. Much like the person who gifted her to you, she is not very interested in fashion. Still, you think your outfit is appropriate today.

Your dress is surprisingly simple and modest. You want to be able to blend in behind your husband, something easily passed over and ignored. You don’t want your presence to keep the Council from holding their tongues. The gown is a plain blue-gray jaberwool with a silk lining and thin leather belt to almost pay homage to the specific silhouette of First Order uniforms. Perhaps the only thing that sets it apart from the bland clothing of officers was the neckline. Instead of fitting snugly around your neck, the collar pulled out over one shoulder and down past your clavicle in both an elegant and risque cut. If the open neck also happens to show off a lovely little purple bite mark your darling had left the night before, all the better.

The last thing you do before leaving your quarters is put on a pair of pearl and diamond drop earrings. You decide to forgo your tiara or circlet today, instead braiding your hair up and back in a raised dome. It reminds you a little of an Alderaanian style, long since passed. The earrings start off dark gray, the same color as your dress before fading slowly into pure white with each level, small sparkling diamonds separating each change. They exude your status while also being less noticeable than a crown, and satisfied with your appearance, you leave your quarters to find your husband.

The bridge is bustling and noisy when you enter, everyone doing their jobs to ensure the might of the First Order and keep things running smoothly. As you approach your husband, grimacing at something on his datapad like always, the click of your heels stands out among the sounds. He turns and sees you, a small and rare smile gracing his lips. Holding out your gloved hand, he grasps it lightly, bringing it to his lips for a respectful kiss. Then he surprises you by tugging you towards him and placing a chaste kiss on your temple.

“Hello my dear, looking lovely as ever.” He says as his officers scurry below you. His eyes roam up and down your form approvingly before zeroing in on the open neck and the mark displayed there. You give him a cheeky smile when his face pinks for a brief moment.

“I’m glad you think so darling. I wanted to match your officers in a way.” You explain, hands still clasped together in their respective leather gloves.

“You do in a remarkable way, and yet, I shouldn’t be shocked that you’ve managed to tweak it to your own extravagant nature.” He teases as he walks you over to a screen. It’s displaying all kinds of data and statistics. The Order is looking for a new base, wanting to introduce land troops and influence over various populations without having to fly down stormtroopers every time there’s trouble. Your husband had been going over various planets for days now, nixing some outright while spending hours comparing others.

“Any luck finding a base?” You ask, eyes flitting over the numbers. Hux shrugs and releases your hand to fiddle with the controls, pulling up the image of a forest planet.

“We’re still looking at a few contenders but right now Serenno seems to be the best option. The population is mostly humanoid and easily suppressible though they have had a bit of bad luck with their economy and may welcome us and the jobs we create. The soil there is nutrient rich and we could use the farmland as well as the various sources of energy the planet provides. It’s not official yet, but the terrain and atmo would be perfect for a stationary base and training facility.” He says, pulling up pictures of the bright forests and rolling fields. You didn’t particularly care about where the Order places a base, but you knew it was ultimately important to Hux.

As the day progresses, he takes you to the various departments of the Order, introducing you to all the team leaders and heads. Your husband seems particularly excited to visit the engineering department and it unlocks something in your chest to see him ask such specific questions and offer suggestions that work. There are so many strange sides to him, it’s enjoyable to have them appear.

It also is quite the boost to your ego, being shown around the ship like you are. Everyone knows who you are and what you represent and the amount of congratulations and gifts you receive during the day is touching. There was a part of you, in the early days of your marriage, that worried about whether or not the First Order would love you as much as it did Hux. You were under it’s banner your whole life, but you were also very unmilitary. So to have your husband’s subordinates welcome you so obviously and kindly, eased those worries almost instantly. Perhaps they saw in you a return to the glory and sophistication of the Empire or perhaps they just noticed the half smiles your darling graced you with or the lack of dark circles under his green eyes.

It’s quite a wonderful day, meeting everyone and learning how such an imposing ship was run. It was invigorating to see your husband in his element, commanding troops and issuing orders. No one could say that he wasn’t good at his job, that much was for certain. The admiration he gains from his officers on the bridge, and from you in private, is well deserved.

After a quiet lunch, which devolved rapidly from getting your stubborn husband to try your more palatable food to an indulgent makeout session against the wall, it was time for the meeting with the Council.

Adjusting your husband’s collar and smoothing back his hair, you enter the long meeting room following him as he sits in his appointed chair. The Council was not on board; were rarely on board, so instead of everyone sitting around the sleek paristeel table, they sat only on one side. General Hux, because of rank and respect, sits in the middle seat, while the rest of the majors and captains sit next to him. You choose to stand behind your darling, blending in with the walls and providing a figurative and literal hand against his back.

Just before the meeting starts, the doors swish open and Kylo Ren storms in, his dark cape fluttering behind him. Like you, he chooses to stand, but unlike you he stays in the corner almost fully disappearing into the darkness. He’s still so strange to you, so unpredictable. But, whether he wants to or not, he invites curiosity. You want to get to know him, learn more about him. Your husband speaks disparagingly of him, but you were sure there was more hidden under the surface. That was something to explore later, you thought, as the screens in front of you flicker to life.

The meeting starts with roll and the expected topics of conversation. It follows with circular arguing and tedium. You understand the reasoning behind group decision making and a forum of discussion, but when you take over, these will be the first things to go. Your husband will have advisors of course, but he will make the final choice and none but you shall question him. A movement catches your eye just then, Lord Ren crossing his arms, and you quickly try to clear your mind. How foolish of you to forget the Force user in the room, to forget who he reported to. The last thing you needed was an errant thought to ruin you. You clench your hands in your gloves and hope he’s focused on the more powerful men and women in the room.

The topic eventually and thankfully changes to where the Order base should be stationed. Various officers speak about their preferred planet, providing slides and information to explain their choice. Hux goes last and it is very clear after a few minutes that he has won the support of his fellow officers around the room. The Council will make the ultimate decision after speaking with the Supreme Leader, but it’s obvious your husband has done his research and is passionate about his choice. You beam with pride at his confident tone and crisp speech.

The Council weighs their decision, speaking of the pros and cons of each planet, with Hux’s suggestion of Serenno being the favored one. But then Allegiant General Pryde speaks up and you barely resist the urge to groan.

“I’m not convinced that Serenno would be the ideal place for a new training facility. It has many favorable qualities, but the other planets brought up do as well. Despite General Hux’s notes, I see no reason why we should pick it over any other. Fondor has our shipyards already in place and Subterrel has mining opportunities. Although if the Council is to truly give their opinions, I still say Exegol is an excellent choice for a new base.” He suggests, the flickering video giving him a blue tinge.

“While I don’t deny that Fondor or Subterrel would work fine, they already have their uses. Fondor is a shipyard, there’s limited space for courses and gyms and the constant machinery and flying around would mess with the cloaking devices and intelligence satellites. Subterrel is a mining planet, the terrain is too rocky and fragile in places to build permanent structures onto and the climate is too unpredictable. They could work, but Serenno is perfect in it’s simplicity. It has fields for farming and forests for shielding and training. The weather is temperate and there are no truly vicious species that would attack us. It is in the Outer Rim which provides an excellent spot in between various trade routes. It even has ties to Count Dooku, if you’re looking for something more spiritual and Separatist.” Hux explains, growing frustrated. It seems that Pryde is aware of his hold over your husband and enjoys exerting his power. His condescension practically leaks out of the video screen as the General continues to defend his ideas.

“And as for Exegol, that pathetic bastion of Sith energy, it is too unknown and unstable. The weather is almost always a downpour and would scramble any incoming or outcoming transmissions. While I hold little stock in the Force, you can not deny that the air is oppressive and dark there. There is something not right about that planet and I will not put my troops in danger out in the Unknown Regions! It has no trade routes, no resources, barely any lifeforms. With all due respect, Allegiant General, I don’t know why you continue to bring up that storm planet when everything points against it being even remotely useful. There is nothing there but old scraps of Star Destroyers and a failed Sith legacy!” Hux continues, getting more agitated. You step forward and place a hand on his shoulder, keeping him from leaping out of his chair. It calms him down a little, and he gathers his papers together as a way to center himself again. There is quiet in the room, everyone taken aback by your husband’s sudden ferocity and a few members of the council clear their throats in the awkward silence.

“All of you have provided excellent choices for the new base and I think I speak for the Council when I agree with General Hux about his choice. Serenno seems to have everything the First Order could need for a new permanent base and, once we receive confirmation from the Supreme Leader, construction and deployment can start right away. This concludes our meeting and the secretary droid will be sending you all the minutes shortly. You are dismissed.” The head of the council says, focusing the attention. He is a very old man, having started his career as a Lieutenant in the fledgling Empire and working his way up. It was time he retired, you thought offhandedly, watching him shakily raise a glass of water to his lips before signing off.

Other officers gather their things and exit, more screens turn off. The secretary droid makes a few beeps and exits as well; leaving only you, your husband, and Pryde’s image still in the room. Pryde is leaning back in his chair, eyes focusing intently on you. His gaze lingers on your neck and the bite mark and you can feel his stare as you swallow in trepidation.

“I’m surprised to see your wife here General, I was under the impression that she was not enlisted personnel.” He sneers. Hux bristles so minutely that it doesn’t show in his face but you can feel the insult under your palm.

“My job is one of my biggest concerns and I spend most of my time on the bridge. Any wife that I have would be remiss not to learn more about the things I consider important. Who am I to deny her the opportunity to learn about the Order?” He says casually, barely giving Pryde the courtesy of his attention.

“Although I will admit a lot of the conversation flew over my head. I have a lot to learn it seems.” You pipe up, smiling brightly at the image of Pryde. He smirks in response.

“As nice as it is to see you Lady Hux, let’s not make this a recurring appearance. I’ll speak with you shortly about the base plans, General.” With that, Pryde signs off and his image disappears. You let out an audible sigh of relief and sit down in a chair next to your husband.

“Stars I hate that man! I feel like he’s always looking at me, it makes my skin crawl.” You complain, taking off your gloves. Your darling chuckles and leans back in his chair as well.

“I can tell, he bothers me too. He was friends with my father growing up and I think it infuriates him that I’m General and my father is dead. Perhaps he’s mad he can’t shut me up the way he used to.” Hux muses, looking over at you softly, reaching out and taking your hand. He doesn’t have to say how Pryde used to silence him. The proof is in the faint scars on his back, the ones you have only seen a few times before, the ones you kiss in the hopes that your adoration will melt them away. If there was no other reason to get rid of Pryde and the Council, those scars would be enough.

“His obsession with Exegol is unusual and confusing. A Sith planet should not interest him so much, especially one that the Supreme Leader disregards.” Lord Ren says from his corner and you jump in your seat at the sound. Hux doesn’t react, used to the other man sulking around in strange places. You wonder if you should be afraid that he heard you speak against Pryde, but your husband hasn’t reacted much beyond a tightening of his jaw.

“Lord Ren, forgive me! I didn’t realize you were still here.” You apologize as he approaches the both of you. From your seated position he looks even larger than normal, the black of his uniform subsuming the lights in the room like a black hole.

“Don’t fret my dear, Ren was the one hiding in the shadows like a Mynock. He should apologize to you.” Hux drawls, glaring at Lord Ren’s helmet. There is a stand off between the two men and the air in the room grows thicker and thicker until it finally dissipates with Lord Ren speaking.

“You should consider being more agreeable like your wife. For once I am on your side, I too think Serenno is a good choice. The other planets are unworthy and useless to your cause. The Supreme Leader has many plans I am not privy to but none of them should involve Exegol.” The modulated voice says.

Hux nods his head and raises his eyebrows in acquiesce. You’re sure your face matches his.

“You have my thanks Lord Ren. I’m glad we’re seeing eye to eye on this matter.” He says diplomatically. The leather of Kylo Ren’s gloves creaks ominously in the pause though he doesn’t seem furious. In fact, his hidden gaze lasers in on you and your husband’s held hands.

It is safe to say you are surprised by Lord Ren’s behavior and the mystery of who he is grows deeper. You long to see what’s under the helmet, imagining that it must be absolutely hideous and monstrous. That to look upon the Knight’s face must cause madness or combustion. It must be awful. He turns to you then and your eyes widen with the realization that he has been divining your thoughts.

“It’s worse.” Is all he says before exiting the room. You let out a breath and glance sideways at your husband and smile.

“Oh, I like him.”

Hux rolls his eyes and leads you out of the room to continue his shift.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later in your quarters, you and your husband are enjoying dinner. Your meal is a delicious baked fish with seasoned vegetables, the scent wafting pleasantly around your head. For once, Hux has gotten the same thing as you, his immature palate enjoying the lighter fare of fish and vegetables over some of the heartier things you had before. You had to go slow with it, otherwise he could make himself sick with the richer flavors.

Millie has finished her dinner and now sleeps happily on top of your feet under the table. Messy, your affectionately named mouse droid, hasn’t left their charging station but you hoped she wouldn’t terrorize the poor metal thing for much longer. It was hard to send messages when your droid wouldn’t even cross the living room floor. But she’s quiet and still now, her purring is soft background noise to the conversation you’re having with your husband, recounting the day's events and making plans for tomorrow.

It isn’t until dessert; various fresh fruits in an attractive display, that you bring up something more serious.

“I don’t know if we’re going to be able to do this quickly. Killing the Council members all at once will look suspicious and treasonous and it will be harder to stay anonymous.” You breathe out, forking a piece of melon. Hux nods but doesn’t look worried. You feel guilty for being apprehensive, but seeing all the men together and safe in their homes makes you anxious.

“I knew that this would take the longest and that it would have to be done slowly. As much as I want to just open fire on the whole stupid lot of them, we must remain as distant from their deaths as possible. But I don’t think we have to tick off each member one by one over the course of several years.” He says, before popping a dark purple berry in his mouth. His lips twitch at the tartness of the fruit and a spark of desire ignites inside you.

“The death of their fellow members might make a few of them retire for their safety, that would take care of a few. But I’m also worried that if we rapidly take down a chunk of them, the others will respond with heightened security. I’m not a trained hitman, I can’t go up against higher protective measures.” You stress, wiping your mouth and pushing your plate away. Hux looks confused and you’re not sure why.

“What do you mean you’re not a hitman? You’re going to be the one to kill them? Absolutely not! I won’t allow it, I won’t put you in danger. I thought we’d hire a Mandalorian or some upstart Trooper.” He snaps, brows coming together in anger. Carefully pulling your feet out from under your cat, you get up and go to your husband, kneeling on the floor next to his chair. It’s a supplicated position, but you knew how to appeal to his ego.

“Darling I have to. We can’t involve anyone else in our plans, it’s too risky. Someone who can be bought may not care about our reasons but they also will divulge them to the highest bidder. We need to be overseeing everything and what better way than to do it ourselves. While I wasn’t out training with guards, I have taken courses in self defense. I know how to protect myself.” You say, clutching at his sleeve. He looks down at you, forehead relaxing.

“I don’t want you to get caught or hurt, (Y/N), it’s dangerous. Let me do it, I would certainly have reasons to be in close proximity to them.”

“No darling please, I have to do it. You have to stay as far removed as possible. You can’t be linked at all. You just need to look innocent. You need to be perceived as taking the power they leave behind with resigned confidence. It will endear you to the masses to view you as someone not grasping for power, but instead stepping up to be a leader. Coups can work, but this is not the right one.” You plead as he brushes his fingers across your brows and against your lips.

“Don’t you think my being married to the murderer connects me?” He asks, his voice growing fond. You turn your head to kiss his fingertips and the flame of arousal grows within you.

“Only if I get caught.” You counter and he leans forward to kiss you. You get back to your feet and he follows you, lips never leaving each other as you blindly move towards the ice blue couch where you straddle him. It’s a pose that reminds you of your first real memory of him, all those months ago in your parent’s estate. He still grabs and grips your waist with intensity and his eyes still hold such a calculating appraisal when he opens them in between kisses.

Your hands come up to run through his hair as you curve towards each other, breaking up the gelled strands. Your sister had recently become engaged to a businessman, some kind of droid oil mogul, and having seen a picture of the man you can’t help but admire your own husband’s appearance. The warm lighting of your quarters and impassioned down time only benefit him, making him look less wan and pallid than before. While you haven’t discussed it yet, and you aren’t ready for them, you hope your future children will have his looks. You briefly imagine a little boy with red hair and your husband’s dimples, something you had only seen once in the whole time you were married, and the thought causes you to sigh in happiness. Hux relaxes deeper into the couch and you unhook the top of his uniform tunic, your fingers splaying wide on his cool skin. It warms quickly under your touch. He pulls away after a few more moments of this, work always coming first.

“It may not surprise you but many of the Council’s members are incredibly corrupt. Skimming off the top, abusing officers, one even owns pleasure slaves if the open secrets are to be believed. I think with the right kind of publicity, we could spin this. Pin the deaths on a team of justice seeking vigilantes intent on exposing the truth. At the end of all this, we can even ‘discover’ the culprits to be the Resistance and stage an attack without recourse. There’s no downside for us. The Council is gone and with it, we can criticize their behavior and come out looking more worthy of support and praise. We pin it on the Resistance and take out a few of them in justifiable revenge. If you can kill these disgusting, useless men, I can make the Order love you for it.” Hux says and you surge up in a quick kiss before breaking it to tell him some very exciting news.

“I was invited by Colonel Paru’s wife to spend a long weekend at their estate. I believe several other members of the High Council will be there. Shall I come back with their heads for you?” You whisper, your lips moving against his in an almost kiss. You share the same breath and every time your husband leans forward to take them, you pull back imperceptibly.

His hand travels up your side and over your breast to your open collar. His thumb pushes against the bruise he made only the night before and you gasp at the touch.

“Heads seem too messy and hard to display. I don’t need proof of your success, just you.” He says, catching you off guard with tenderness and capturing your lips with his own. He tastes like victory.

Chapter Five Coming Soon....

Tagging: @babbushka, @livy1391, @renaissance-mama, @girl-next-door-writes, @peqchynero, @the-temple-pythoness, @cupofmoonlighttea, @sincerely-cronch, @brujademente, @potato-ren, @ah-callie, @rosirinoa, @niniita-ah, @lwtficrecs, @theold-ultraviolence and please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

#potential #my writing #self insert fanfiction #general hux x reader #general hux imagines #reader insert fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #general hux #i know i said not to expect it but here it is #also i have a pinterest with the fashion of the fic #if anyone is interested #fanfiction

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150289city · 3 years

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HND1 – MOVING IMAGE {RESEARCH TASK}

Task #1 Research a selection of memorable adverts that have stuck with you since your childhood. • Describe what it is that you think makes these adverts so successful; • Study the way your chosen adverts have been shot and edited and the important role that sound and narration play in the production of these Ads.

Red Bull advertising has been with me for many years. It seems to me that its effectiveness lies in a short cartoon film that reproduces children's drawings and is funny in its own way. I remember that each time I was curious what cartoon movie would be the next time.

The sound and narrative was always perfectly suited to the people who were talking and the moment that was at the moment. here is a link to one of the many Red Bull ads

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SHdL4BgSz_U

Task #2 Research a variety of Moving Image techniques: - Camera movements: panning, tilt, zoom, tracking, dolly, pull focus; Composition: a} Focal length, long / standard / wide; b} Viewpoint, high (birds eye), eye level, low (on ya hunkers); c} Action, identify what is moving in the frame (to aid the transition 'cut on a move') • Now go back to the adverts you have selected and try and see if you can match the camera movements and compositions with the various shots utilised within your adverts.

The simplest movement - pan. This is the simplest camera rotation on the tripod head. The camera does not change its position here, but rotates along the axis. Movement in the image left-right (in the case of reportage it is the rule in accordance with the reading direction - if any text appears in the frame, it will be readable). It has to be smooth enough for your viewer to see the details of the surroundings, or very fast if you want to blur the background (and use it for a creative transition to another scene). Panorama is useful to, for example, track a moving object in the frame, show panoramic scenery or the distance between given objects.

Tilt As before, the camera does not change its place, but rotates in the up-down axis. With this movement, you can show how tall a given object is (e.g. a building or a tree) or show the entire silhouette of the figure (from head to toe).

Dolly The camera moves along with the operator on rails and moves closer or further away from the object in the frame. Of course, you can try to make such a move not only on a wheelchair on rails, but even on an armchair with wheels or a skateboard (I saw it in action). This movement allows the viewer to literally "enter" the action, gives the impression of following the protagonist and going deeper into the scene. With a small camera and a short distance of movement, you can use the slider. It is also visually much more plastic and natural than the zoom effect of a lens. If you combine the approach of the camera with the zoom, you can get a very interesting background effect, literally falling on the hero's head (the so-called vertigo effect).

Zoom (aka Transfocation) Here the zoom is caused by the change of the focal length of the lens, the camera does not move. Once often seen in movies, today rather in television reports. The camera approach looks more natural. Telephoto shots give the impression of standing right next to the figure in the heart of the action.

-zoom in - for example, by filming the full set of a person reading a book, and then zooming in on the book itself in such a way that the viewer can read the title and author's name from its cover.

- zoom out - here it can be the other way around - it starts with the detail, i.e. the book, then you move away and it turns out that the book is in the hand of a girl sitting on a park bench!

Raising-lowering (pedestal) This time the camera rises or lowers vertically along the axis. You can show, for example, the height of a basketball player or lower the staff by filming kids.

Truck driving As before - the camera moves on rails (or wheels), but this time parallel to the scene. In this way, we can follow the action like an outside viewer from the side of the stage. It is possible to use a slider at a short distance.

Camera crane (jib) The camera at the end of the long arm of the crane (typically 2 to 10 meters) moves a great distance and height. This is often used for coverage of events, concerts or sports events, the camera then flies over the audience's heads and hovers over the stage.

Handheld In fact, maybe I should say that this is a basic shot, since it only requires a camera and operator. The operator holds the camera in his hand and can move freely with it. On TV, shoulder cameras are used in this way for quick interviews and reportage, and in the cinema, sometimes the camera effect is simulated by hand to give the pictures credibility and the impression of someone watching the action. Dynamic action scenes (e.g. in war movies) are also filmed in this way to conquer the drama even more. When shooting handheld, it is worth remembering not to use a high zoom, it is better to stay in wide-angle shots. First, the image shakes much less then, and second, it looks more like something that can be observed naturally.

Shots with mechanical (steadycam) or electronic (gimbal) stabilizers. Thanks to such devices, the movement of the camera held by the operator is extremely smooth and is not limited by the range of rails or slider. A great technique to follow the action, sometimes the operator can literally run after the protagonist deep into the stage, but without a shaky image, which would not be too much to be seen in such a run. The movement of the camera is not only suitable for making the materials more dynamic, but it can also be used consciously to present information, show viewers the space where the action is taking place, make them “voyeurs” or be drawn into the very center of the plot.

Focal Lenght:

Long – This type of focal length gives the photographer a close crop effect and can be useful for nature and close portraiture (without the need to be right in at your subject’s face). Best used for: Bring far away subjects closer to the camera Emphasize blurred backgrounds Longer focal length is great for portraits Great for landscape photography.

Standard - These lenses offer natural-looking perspective. They’re good for two-shots of people, and mid shots (hips to head) but they give slight distortion if you use them for closeups. 50mm prime lenses are usually small and ‘fast’ (they have a wide maximum aperture to let in a lot of light).

Wide - lens is any lens with a set focal length that is shorter than the length of the sensor or film. For full frame sensors, a wide angle lens would be any lens with a focal length equal to or less than 35mm. These lenses are very useful for filming master shots of a whole scene, or getting in close and working in cramped spaces. They’re easy to handhold, perspective looks dramatic, and there’s good depth of field (a lot of the shot is in focus at the same time). The big drawback is that closeups will be distorted. If you want to shoot with just one prime lens, this may be the one to have.

Viewpoint - The position of the camera in relation to the subjects can affect the way the viewer perceives the scene. A scene may be shot simultaneously from multiple camera angles to amplify the cinematic effect and the emotions.

High (birds eye) An overhead shot is from way up high, looking down on your subject and a good amount of the scenery surrounding him or her. This can create a great sense of scale and movement.

The Eye Level Shot. When your subject is at eye-level they’re in a neutral perspective (not superior or inferior). This mimics how we see people in real life -- our eye line connecting with theirs.

A Low angle shot frames the subject from a low camera height looking up at them. These camera shots most often emphasize power dynamics between characters. A superior character with the upper hand is often framed from down low. This makes an inferior feel like they are looking up to them.

Camera framing is the placement and position of the subjects in your shots. Shots are all about composition. Rather than pointing the camera at the subject, you need to compose an image. For filmmakers and videographers, a major consideration for framing is the number of subjects you feature in your shots, and their physical relationship to each other and the camera.

Considerations when camera framing a shot: Size — the size of your subject has a direct relationship to the importance of that subject. Relationships — when we see more than one character in a shot, we are meant to acknowledge their relationship (romantic, contentious, etc.) Balance — a "balanced" frame includes elements on the left and right side of the frame.

#preproduction #movingimage

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solynaceawrites · 4 years

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Wires [4]: Frustration

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M Fandom: Devil May Cry Relationships: Dante/Original Female Character(s), Implied Nero/Kyrie, Implied Vergil/Original Female Character(s), Implied Lady/Trish, Dante/Lirael Thorne, Dante/Lir Characters: Dante, Morrison, Nero, Original Female Character(s), Lirael Thorne, Lir Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Violence, Gore, Dark, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Serial Killers, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut Summary: In Red Grave City, a serial killer stalks the streets. Lirael Thorne, recently transferred from Fortuna and looking for an escape from her past, winds up on his trail. Hunting him with her veteran partner, Dante Redgrave, they try to piece together the wires that bind the three of them together. In a race to catch him before he leaves more victims in his wake, the things thought buried will come to the surface, tearing lives and comfort apart.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“Death and life are the same thing- like the two sides of my hand, the palm and the back. And still the palm and back are not the same . . . They can neither be separated, nor mixed.” —Ursula K. Le Guin

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Lir takes Simon Marson’s statement with a grain of salt. It’s not that she doesn’t trust him—she doesn’t trust lawyers as a whole, but nothing so far has given her a reason to believe he’d outright lie—just that she’s learned firsthand how memories get clouded and fuzzy, particularly about routines. Sure, their victim worked for him. And, yes, she probably did the exact same thing every day, going to her paid internship at her father’s office Monday through Saturday, taking Sunday off, and spending Friday night bar-hopping with her friends. Yet there’s simply too much Marson was unaware of. The questions of who her friends are, what she did when she wasn’t working, her hobbies, any potential lovers, hell even where she lived, are all ones he provided no answer to or understanding of. To him, Sophie truly existed only in the hours between 8:00 am and 6:30 pm. Which isn’t exactly unusual, but it makes her job of following those leads harder, and she ends their interview feeling more irritated than she had when she started.

Dante, too, must be frustrated, because he says nothing at all to her when he leaves the observation room to join her at their desks, merely clacking angrily on his keyboard as he types his report. Lir does the same, transcribing the interview with Marson and her notes to send to Morrison later. A stiff drink is what she needs, maybe a call to Joan for a bit of relaxation, but she settles for chewing aspirin and drinking the bitter coffee unique to precincts. By the time she’s done recounting the events of the last thirty-six hours, her fingers are stiff and the throbbing in her temples has turned into a fierce clawing that makes her eyes water, and she’s keenly aware of the fact that they’re fast closing in on the forty-eight hour mark and how much more difficult this investigation is going to be beyond it.

“You eaten?” Dante asks. Lir shakes her head, and he picks up his phone, dialing quickly. “Me neither. ‘Bout to keel over, if I’m honest. You good with pizza?”

“Sure. Whatever toppings are fine.”

He flashes her a grin before speaking into the receiver, and Lir uses the time to read back over Trish’s findings. They aren’t pretty. While there were no ligature marks, showing that Sophie was neither restrained nor strangled, there were heavy levels of Rohypnol in her blood, meaning she would have been unable to do anything at all. In fact, Trish notes that the dose probably would have been fatal, given the fact that Sophie was well over the legal limit for intoxication, clocking a BA of 0.16%, putting her at the threshold for alcohol poisoning. Did she normally drink so much? Lir runs her fingers over the paper, frowning slightly as she thinks. Joan hadn’t said much more about Sophie’s habits other than her cocktail of choice, and they hadn’t asked for a receipt, a stupid oversight that needs to be corrected. Because if that much liquor was’t common for Sophie, it means either she was drinking a lot more, which could lead them to recent stresses.

Or that the killer was feeding her margaritas all night to make sure she was too weak to fight him.

“There was no phone recovered from the alley, right?” she asks. Dante gives a grunt as he hangs up the phone, and she leans back, stretching to relieve the tension in her shoulders. “We’ve got to find her friends, talk to them.”

“What about the mother?”

“Gone. Parents divorced when Sophie was . . .” Lir checks her notes. “Six. The original custody agreement was for the mom to have supervised visitation, but she went no contact when Sophie was twelve. The last Marson heard from her, she was living with her new husband in Portland.”

Dante whistles. “No contact? Think Marson was abusing her?”

“Maybe. But why would Sophie hang around, if that was the case? You watch your dad beat on your mom for six years and wind up working for him?”

He grunts and leans back, crossing his arms over his chest and staring thoughtfully at a spot just over her right shoulder. “Abuse doesn’t always make it to the kids,” he says after a moment. “Sure, maybe pops was an asshole, but he was probably smart enough to keep it behind closed doors. Or maybe there wasn’t anything goin’ on other than two people who didn’t want to be together anymore.” He pauses to take a sip of coffee. “Could have been mom, too.”

“Right.” Lir massages her temples, and the pressure there subsides enough that she no longer feels like her eyes are going to burst. A migraine is the last thing she needs right now, but that’s exactly where she’s headed if she doesn’t get some sort of rest soon. “So, we have a victim whose father knows nothing about her personal life, a killer who was smart enough to make sure we couldn’t trace her beyond the bar, and, after nearly forty hours, no real answers.”

“Sounds about right.” Dante’s grin is bitter.

“Fuck.” She drums her fingers on her desk. “Crime scene still roped off?”

“As far as I know. You plannin’ a visit?”

“Yeah. I need to get some air, and I want to take it in now that it’s quiet.” Lir grabs her coat from the back of her chair as she stands, sliding it on before leaning to open her desk and grab her gun and badge. Fastening them to her belt, she mutters, “Maybe something got missed.”

Dante gets up, stretching with a loud yawn. “Alright. I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t need—”

“I’m not babysittin’ you, Lir.” His eyes are somehow both grave and mocking, and she’s not sure which irritates her more. “There’s a killer. None of us should be goin’ out alone, especially with the statistics about who else might show up there to get their jollies.”

That gives her pause. “Right. Okay. You driving?”

He dangles his keys. Lips twitching, she turns and heads down the stairs and out to the lot, listening to the quiet thumping of Dante’s shoes as he follows her. For someone so big, he doesn’t make a lot of noise when he moves, and she wonders idly if it’s a force of habit or just how he is as she slides into the passenger seat of his car and fastens her seatbelt. Like always, he flicks on the radio and finds a classic rock station before starting the drive, and he ignores her popping two aspirin into her mouth and chewing them dry.

The ride back to the alley passes in the silence between them. Lir looks out of her window, the rain sliding along the glass turning the world outside to a muted painting of blurred shapes and bright flashes of color on an otherwise dreary background, and thinks. Sophie Marsons had gone to the bar, as was her usual weekend habit, and ordered her preferred drink. Had she gone with friends? Had they danced, and laughed, until a stranger stole into their group, with eyes only for Sophie, eyes full of murder that she might have mistaken for desire? Despite what she had said to Dante about their victim being chosen randomly, Lir has little doubt that she knew her killer. Statistics point to it, the inevitable need for the comfort brought by familiarity that a new killer needs to do his work. Statistics, the voice of her old academy instructor rasps in her mind, are statistically incorrect.

If Sophie wasn’t the first, then there’s another victim out there.

Cold, bitter rain lashes her as soon as she steps out of the car. Huffing, watching her breath condense and twist in the air, Lir pulls her hood up around her face and tucks her hands into her pockets, wishing she had a slicker even if the garish yellow color of it would make her stick out like a sore thumb. Dante joins her, grimacing as he sets a black trilby on his head, water dripping from the brim steadily. “Good thing we already got forensics,” he mutters.

“Mm.” Making a non-committal noise in her throat, she ducks under the crime scene tape and walks into the alley, where she stands and takes it in. Without pedestrian and vehicular traffic on the street, it’s unnervingly quiet; is this how it was at four in the morning? Nothing but silence as the dull oppressiveness of the city while Sophie was carved open like livestock?

Lir is moving towards the dumpster when something rustles behind it. Pausing, she stares at it, her brow pinched and her hand moving slowly to her gun, waiting. Cat, she thinks, or rat. Something digging for scraps now that humanity has gone away. But the silhouette she can just make out on the other side is too large, and, as she watches, a tanned hand grips the edge before a rain-soaked head pokes cautiously around, the eyes that she sees wide enough that the whites are like spotlights. Behind her, she hears Dante hiss, the faint splash of water as he slowly comes up beside her. Looks like he was right. Someone else had shown up, and now all that’s left to do is figure out whether or not they’re the murderer.

“Police,” Dante barks. “Don’t move!”

The man jumps to his feet and takes off, and Lir lets out a string of curses as she darts after him. They always fucking run, guilty or innocent, because seeing a cop always makes them feel like they’ve done something wrong. Bearers of bad news, thugs with guns, she’s heard it all, and she wonders how this guy thinks of the police even as she chases him down the winding alleys of a city she’s already growing to hate. “Thorne!” Dante shouts, his voice dwindling as the distance between them grows. “Goddamnit, Thorne!”

Up ahead, the black coat swirls as the man rushes through the maze. Sometimes all she has is a glimpse of fabric as he turns a corner, others, on the straight, narrow stretches, she can make out more of him, and her mind catalogues these snapshots. Slender build. Dark jeans. Heavy boots. The glint of a ring. A pair of wild eyes peering over his shoulder. Despite knowing she should draw it, Lir leaves her gun holstered. Don’t you ever, her instructor had said gravely, take that thing out unless you intend to shoot, and she’s got no desire to fire a bullet that would at best embed itself harmlessly into a wall and at worst ricochet and cause more damage.

Her hood falls back, rain plastering her hair to face and neck. In her chest, her heart is a drum, and her blood roars in her ears, equaled only by the low whistle of her breathing as she tries to control it to fight off fatigue. Keep moving, she tells her legs, don’t fucking stop until you know who he is.

At her hip, her radio crackles, only to be ignored. Right now, it is only her and her prey, locked in the chase until one of them is forced to stop. Guilty people run, sure. So do frightened ones. Which is he? Killer or morbid onlooker, dangerous or afraid?

Lir never gets the chance to find out. They burst into a side-street, the cars around them blaring horns of fear and anger at this sudden intrusion, and a hand clamps onto her shoulder and yanks her back as a truck passes through the space she’d been about to step into. By the time it and its trailer clear out, the man is gone, and a scream bubbles in her throat that she fights to swallow. She knows who grabbed her—the scent of Dante’s cologne, muted by the rain, wafts into her nose, accompanied by the spiced, salty blend of sweat and deodorant—and she allows him to lead her back to the sidewalk, where she doubles over with her hands on her thighs and struggles to slow her breathing from the harsh, jagged pants to something close to normal. At this angle, she can make out the way water has turned the leather of his shoes a dull brown. Never gonna look nice again, she thinks, and closes her eyes against the swell of nausea that comes from exertion on an empty stomach.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Dante growls, his voice rasping and hoarse from chasing her. “You ever stop to think for a damned second that we’d need backup? Or that chasing that idiot could have gotten you killed?”

The scolding makes her angry all over again. “I’m sorry,” she snaps, straightening to glare at him. “Should I have let our only lead so far go?”

“If it meant surviving? Yeah, you should’ve. Or were you hoping to wind up like Marsons?” His eyes are cold with fury, his cheeks flushed with it. “I told you, I fucking told you—”

Lir’s phone rings, cutting off whatever tirade he’d been heading towards. Scowling, she answers it. “Thorne.”

“You with Redgrave?” Morrison asks, crackling with static.

“Yeah.” Dante makes an impatient motion with his hand, and she holds up a finger in the standard request for a minute of silence.

“Get your asses over to Tellula Park. He’ll know where it is.”

There’s something so foreboding about Morrison’s tone that Lir knows the answer to her question before she even asks it. “What’s there?”

Morrison sighs. “Another body. Looks like our killer didn’t want to wait for us to catch him.”

“We’ll be there.” She hangs up, then looks at Dante, frustration and defeat welling within her to make her voice curiously flat. “There’s another victim in Tellula Park.”

Dante curses. “Our guy?”

“Morrison said it was,” she replies.

He glances around, studying the street sign at the intersection. “C’mon. Car’s about two blocks away. We’ll have to book it if we don’t want Morrison to rip us new assholes for taking our sweet time.”

Lir nods. Dante turns and starts down the sidewalk, and she follows, craving a drink and a good night’s rest and maybe a bit of company, angry to have wasted time on some idiot onlooker when the killer was busy leaving them another corpse, another family to notify, another twisted web. I didn’t know, she thinks, and that just makes her feel worse. Tunnel vision, that’s what she had fallen into, too focused on what was in front of her nose to take a second to really contemplate if a killer who took such care not to be noticed would have been so stupid as to come back to the scene of his crime in the middle of the day with cops still around.

They’re sweating and miserably damp by the time they reach the car. Dante pulls towels from the backseat for them to sit on—something her father had done, to keep water from damaging the seats—and turns on the heater to fight some of the chill. It’s only once they’re on their way to the new scene that he says anything at all. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Lir’s head snaps towards him at both the words and the sympathy within them. Not that it’s unusual for cops to know how their partner feels, but usually that takes years of working together, not days, so either he’s particularly good and reading the people around him or he’s projecting. “What?”

“The new victim,” he explains. “Wasn’t anything you could have done. We had and have nothing to go on, and you chasin’ that guy didn’t get this one killed. Or,” his mouth twitches, “do you think you’re better than every other cop on the force?”

“Of course not,” she protests hotly. “I just . . .”

Dante cracks the window and lights a cigarette that he pulls from the pack in his door. “Look,” he says, exhaling smoke, “I get it. You’re new, gotta prove yourself, and this guy is a pain in the ass. But you ain’t got any control over him, or what he does. Only thing you can do is learn, be better, so you can catch him.”

It’s spoken in the same tone he might have used to console a weeping toddler, and she bristles. “You don’t know me.”

“No, but I read your file.” He glances at her as he tosses the cigarette, still half-lit, out of the window. “You know what was top and center on the behavior section? Empathetic. You feel things, Thorne, feel ‘em deep, maybe, and that’s great for gettin’ inside the head of whoever’s doin’ this, but it means he can get inside your head, too, if you let him.”

She sinks into her seat, thinking of her dream, and gooseflesh breaks out across her arms despite the warm air blowing from the vents. “So what’s your drive, then? Fame? Promotions?”

Dante snorts. “Nah. Just don’t like bastards who hurt women, that’s all.” He pauses, then exhales slowly. “Look. I’m not gonna rat you out to Morrison. You made a decision that anyone else would’ve made. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t a fucking stupid decision, but . . . It stays between us. Right?”

There’s a rush of gratitude that she hates feeling. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay,” he agrees amicably.

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