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sugadaily · 3 years

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On tvN’s You Quiz on the Block, SUGA told stories from before his debut. The period of his life when he struggled with how to live off his music. SUGA and BTS have kept going and going for eight years, and now he’s on their grounds, where he can do anything he wants musically. What began with that long journey is the story of SUGA holding his head up higher and staring at the future, reaching for it.

How are you feeling after your shoulder surgery? You’re doing physical therapy in parallel with work. SUGA: I’m all right. I’m keeping up with the physical therapy, too. I had surgery last year because I wanted to be able to go back to work sooner. I have nothing else to do except music.

You said that there’s nothing for you to do other than music in the “BE-hind Story” interview on YouTube, too. SUGA: It’s true. I tried gaming, but I have no talent for it. The people I play with online get so frustrated if I do. I mean, I’m working hard and got some recognition in my life, and yet people bash me so hard in games. (laughs)

I wonder if there’s a game you can do better in than you do in your career. You’re currently at your sixth week at number one on the Billboard Hot 100 [with “Butter, at the time of this interview]. (laughs) How are you feeling these days? SUGA: When we were at number one for two weeks straight, I was like, Wow, this is so amazing! But after the fifth or sixth week, we really started to talk about it between ourselves: I really can’t believe this. Anyway, I feel like I have a responsibility. And I think I’ll end up thinking much, much more when we get ready for the next promotion. Even if I just try to enjoy this situation, it hasn’t sunk in. We can’t leave the country, plus there’s lots of issues in the world right now that are much more important than how well we perform on the charts.

As you say, it’s a tough situation, all over the world. How do you feel about releasing “Permission to Dance,” with its positive message, at this point in time? SUGA: It seems like everyone around the world is really tired of this situation dragging out. I wanted to convey a message that tells people to keep hanging on to hope until the very end. Whereas we released the album BE in this situation, seemingly without any certainty, I believe things will slowly get better now. I don’t know if we can go back to the way things were before, but I’m still working with the hope that we can return to a situation that resembles what we had before.

Aren’t you tired of the pandemic being in this prolonged state? SUGA: I look at it as, when you lose one thing, you gain another. I ended up being able to see my family more since I’m in Korea. In that sense, I feel more stable, so I’m not so much tired as hoping each day that things will become okay soon. I keep moving back and forth between work and home, and I’ve started to reflect on parts of myself I didn’t know about before. Like that I feel somewhat comfortable when I start and finish work at a certain time. While I used to have to go to bed at a certain time for work the next day or else I had a hard time getting up early, now I know I’ve figured out what time I should wake up at to make sure I feel good all day. What I pursue in life is emotional stability, and I don’t think there’s really anything too exciting or sad happening these days.

What effect do those emotions have when you work on music? SUGA: They don’t have a big effect on it. I think it affects the way I write lyrics a bit, but I’m not working on any lyrics at the moment. I’ve been making music for a long time, so I think it’s possible for me to express emotions I’m not feeling in the moment. And it’s good that we released “Permission to Dance” in this kind of situation.

You sing rather than rap in “Permission to Dance.” In addition to rapping, you started singing more both before and after BE. What did you learn about your voice? SUGA: “Permission to Dance” was a little bit difficult. I don’t draw a line between singing and rapping or anything, but it was different from our usual style, and the vocals were a bit high, too. So even though it took a while to prepare for it, I worked hard, and even when I asked some older musicians for their opinions, they all said, “It’s good the way you’re doing it. Don’t try to sing better—just sing more.” I think my only option is to sing more, like they suggested.

As far as style goes, you’ve been doing a smoother kind of pop music. Did any differences arise as a result of these changes? SUGA: All things considered, the English was the hardest part. I paid close attention to my pronunciation in “Butter” and “Permission to Dance.” It wasn’t easy to capture that smooth feeling in the songs, so I practiced my pronunciation quite a bit. And I end up breathing a lot when I’m doing an English song, but the rap parts were a bit hard for that reason. There’s a clear difference from Korean songs, since English has so many syllables. But I don’t have any one method I stick with for my vocals yet, so I tend to try lots of different things out.

What do you make of BTS’s achievements over the past year with “Permission to Dance” and “Butter,” as well as the group’s change in style? In the space of a year, you’ve released songs in a style different from MAP OF THE SOUL: 7 or BE. SUGA: As a producer, I think reactions are important to an artist who works within the field of popular music. With that in mind, speaking as a producer, “Dynamite,” “Butter” and “Permission to Dance” were the best choices. And musical tastes are different from country to country, and the cultures are different, too. Given that situation, I think it’s important that we’re a group who can send such a universal message out into the world.

BTS has really grown and changed a lot, starting with “No More Dream” and all the way to “Permission to Dance.” SUGA: I think it’s a natural course of event for those of us who make pop music. Artists mix and match different genres as they grow, and the music develops as the people of its time listen to it. I’ve been listening to a ton of music lately, and thanks to the times we live in, if I listen to a song a few times, they recommend me more songs in a similar style. And after listening to them, I realized the style of hip hop is also changing and is splitting off into different offshoots. Other than hip hop, I also listen to a lot of instrumental music. I’ve always liked Hans Zimmer’s music. There have been many times where a movie I like turns out to have music by Hans Zimmer.

What is it about Hans Zimmer’s music that draws you in? SUGA: I like orchestral music. There’s a lot of pop songs that are under the three-minute mark now, and whereas it’s sort of predetermined that they’re always written with intros that are four bars long, orchestral music can do a lot within its framework.

But, as can be seen in IU’s song “eight,” which you both produced and featured on, you broke out of pop music’s typical composition style and tried out a highly condensed progression. The composition of the chorus is very straightforward. SUGA: Yes. I insisted that the flow be roughly cut in half from that of a typical song, and I expect more pop music will be like that in the future. And maybe even shorter as time goes on. I mean, these days there’s songs that are under two minutes, even.

Regardless, I felt the chorus in “eight” is extremely dramatic with its structure and the melody of the chorus. I thought it was rather grand in scale as well. Would you say that you’re attempting to mix your tastes and things you want to do into the structure of pop music? SUGA: As you know, I love hip hop, so when I was first making music I thought it had to be hip hop no matter what and that I had to take pride in my own ideas and not accept any compromise. But while getting some experience at the forefront of pop music, I figured out that you can keep being stubborn or inflexible because there are people listening to you. There was a time I made music without any listeners before I became a member of BTS. But if someone were to ask if I stopped being stubborn about the music I’m making these days, the answer’s no. As I grew up and became an adult, I came to realize that I have to negotiate between what I want to do and the kind of music the public wants without compromising anything. When I give up on something I wanted to do, I ask myself, What will I get out of this? And conversely, when I want to do something, I ask myself, What can I get out of this? That’s how I keep my balance to make it to where I am now.

You have no choice but to think about those things when you work on other artists’ songs, especially when you’re a producer. SUGA: I’m BTS’s SUGA, and I’m Agust D, and when I’m producing, I go by “by SUGA.” But when it comes to by SUGA, I make perfectly commercial music. I’m the producer for those songs, sure, but the owner is someone else, you know? In that case, they’re commissioning my work. But they wouldn’t think about just leaving it all with SUGA. The artist’s label has to think carefully about whether to commission me for producing and consider my situation, too, and those people must be hoping for something commercial. That’s the most important part of working with outside people. Actually, that kind of work isn’t much of a benefit to me, to be honest. Oh, he can write this kind of song, too. That’s all. The more valuable thing I can get from it is the recognition and records the artist or the company will get with the song instead.

As you noted in your previous Weverse Magazine interview, when you discussed your “interest in the music industry in the US,” you seem to constantly think about the things artists can do within the framework of the music industry. SUGA: I don’t know. It’s just that I’ve become more certain since the pandemic started that I’m the kind of person who always has to be doing music. That much I know for sure, so I want to keep on making good music. And the pop music market is something that came about because there were people listening, and there’s a long history to the US music market, and it possesses the most influential charts in the whole word. So then I thought, Wouldn’t they have gone through all the same things that we have? And really, whenever I talk to other pop stars, the situation is always similar. The US is also more realistic about commercial results than any other country. I wanted an accurate picture of how those people work. Right now, Korean pop music’s spread is in full swing and we need more good artists to keep popping up. From a producer’s standpoint, if that’s going to happen, I think the key is how well we can mix our music and the characteristics of overseas music industries overall.

How did it feel to be in the lineup for the Grammy Awards, one of the icons of the US music industry? SUGA: The feeling was less immediate because we couldn’t be there in person, and it wasn’t a huge distinction, but the performance made me think, This is different, because it’s the Grammys. What changed my view from the first time I went to an American music awards ceremony was, the first time I went, I was really scared of the world’s biggest music market. But when I look back now, I don’t think I had any reason to feel that intimidated. To be honest, I have only now begun to enjoy the awards ceremonies; I wasn’t able to then.

It’s no exaggeration to say that you’ve achieved most of the things that you can as an artist in the music industry. What steps do you think are necessary for the artists who follow after BTS? SUGA: The way artists work seems so difficult. They make an appearance on a different music show every day once the promotional period begins, meaning the exhaustion artists face is enormous, and that fatigue often results in injuries as it adds up. That kind of music show is for promotional purposes, so it’s not like the artists can earn a proper income from them. On top of that, despite all the promoting, there’s no visible outcome, so they inevitably lose morale. If possible, it’d be nice to have one of the performances be really high-quality, even if it’s just the one, but in this environment I’d say that’s pretty difficult. And since our job doesn’t fit the common conception of work, there’s ambiguous boundaries when it comes to issues of legal protection as well. We need a lot of improvements to be made to the industry and its system.

They demand a lot of things as collateral for success, yet success is extremely difficult to attain. SUGA: The great thing about the label I’m with is they listen to the artists’ opinions. I think both we and the label know to a certain degree what kinds of activities would be best commercially speaking. But the question is whether the body can endure it or not. If the fatigue builds up as you continuously do those promotional activities, it’s hard to do them the way you did when you first debuted. In that case, I think the label ought to actively accommodate the artist’s views about what they can and cannot do. An attitude that’s just like, Oh, we made you kids, and as long as you just do what we tell you to it’ll all work out, so just do it—I think that really doesn’t make any sense. Of course, there could still be situations where the label has to be pushy like that, obviously. But I heard there’s been times where a label will just say, Do it, without any explanation to the artist, or, Why are you talking so much? I think that’s the biggest issue and it’s destroying the industry. If you just see the artist as a product, how can they do anything creative? I really think it’s very contradictory to ask the people on stage to put on an enjoyable performance when they’re experiencing neither fun nor enjoyment.

That reminds me of the music video for “Daechwita” somehow. You appear onscreen as both a rebel character and a king, looking as different as your situation when you first debuted with BTS and your situation now. SUGA: There was a lot I wanted to do in “Daechwita,” not just musically but also visually, and a lot of ideas came to me as I came to reflect on who I am as a person while working on the music video. It naturally occurred to me to separate SUGA, by SUGA and Agust D. The character I played in that video who wasn’t the king was a stranger. It takes place during the Joseon era, but then there’s cars and guns, which of course don’t belong in that era. I think we’ve been living our lives that way. Right from our debut, a portion of the hip hop lovers criticized us by saying, They’re idols. But at the same time, we heard things like, They’re not idols. I didn’t know which drumbeat to march to, so I think that’s why each of our albums took a different direction than people were expecting. But I don’t think I can call myself a stranger in this situation anymore. So these days my main goal is to keep going with BTS for a long time. Having a huge audience show up at our concerts is nice, but I think the goal for all of us is to make sure the group can keep making music even as we get older. I think right now we’re thinking a lot about how we can have fun and be happy on stage.

What do you mean when you say fun and happy music? SUGA: I think people are happier the busier I am, so lately I’ve been thinking that I need to focus a little more. I figure we should do as much as we can for ARMY since they feel happy watching us. We’ll continue to try our best, so I hope they believe in BTS and keep their eyes on us.

So that’s why you do music. SUGA: This is the only thing I know how to really do. Other than music and BTS, there’s nothing special about me when I look at this 28-year-old Min Yoongi. That’s why I want to keep doing this.

#yoongi #suga #bangtan #bts #210730 #interview

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aerialflight · 3 years

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Fic Rec (it's been too long and I read a whole lot of fics)

I've read so many fics these past couple of months and my need to share them to the world has seized me by the throat. Please enjoy and support these fanfic writers! They are the best. XD

[Naruto]

Nine-Tailed Foxes are Dead by RowlettLesbian

Ship: Shikamaru/Naruto

For Konoha, it's been one month since the preliminary Chunin exams. For Naruto, it's been six. And he wasn't in Konoha.

At the end of his ordeal, Naruto walks into the Chunin Exam finals without his left arm.

Shikamaru is very concerned. And, eventually, very precious to Naruto as they work together to solve the mysteries of Konoha and bring kindness to the Shinobi world, one adventure at a time.

(I would die for this fic. I know the summary sounds doom and gloom but IT'S NOT. This fic made me fucking cry, I don't think I've ever read a fic that characterized Naruto so right. He's so full of hope and love and develops into the best version of himself and I'm so HERE FOR IT. And it's not just Naruto, Shikamaru is absolutely amazing here along with Kakashi and surprise surprise Ino, I can't BELIEVE it took me this long to stumble across this fic. Also THE WORLDBUILDING IS TO DIE FOR!!! And the plot! Is! So! Interesting! Just, everything about this fic is just amazing so please PLEASE read this!!!)

The End of the Uchiha by RowlettLesbian

Ship: Naruto/Sasuke

“I promise, little electric spirit of this shrine,” he whispered into the soft dirt and fallen leaves, “I will never gain the eyes. I will never pass them on. And I will make sure the eyes end in my brother, so that they can’t hurt anybody anymore. I will be the last Uchiha, and see to the end of the Copy-Wheel Clan. Then all of the hatred here can stop, and my family can rest peacefully. I promise, little shrine.”

Sasuke is more than his brother thinks he is. He's more than any Uchiha has ever been. He will kill his brother, but it will not be vengeance.

It will be mercy.

(Same author as the one above, they are the gift that keeps on giving. Seriously, HOW did I NEVER FIND THESE FICS before now??? One of life's greatest mysteries. The author's sense of humor is so on point here along with the atmospheric writing that's so vivid in the mind. Their writing style is so recognizable to me now and makes me fall into the world they're creating, it's stunning. Sasuke here makes me want to hug him and the idea of him living like a feral ghibli character has me LIVING. Check the tags of the fic, all of it is true, hand to god. Please give all of the author's fics a shot, it's a rabbit hole I'm thankful I fell into!)

mil fantasmas (gritan en calma) by LegaciesandMemories

Post-Tsukuyomi, something in Uchiha Sasuke's mind shatters. The same night, Yamanaka Ino falls asleep and doesn't wake up for 15 days.

---

In which Ino and Sasuke both wake from the aftermath of the Uchiha Massacre with the ability to see ghosts, and no one is prepared for the fallout.

(This fic has arrested my curiosity and eagerness to know what will happen next. These poor kids need so many hugs and Ino is getting the spotlight she deserves. I am so excited for this fic and what it has in store! Please read! XD)

Lichtenberg Figures by Asteroid_Duck (JustThatOneGirl1815)

Name: Kakashi Hatake Rank: Jounin Status: Missing Nin Missing Since: June 15th, 271 AD Note: Flee on Sight . . . Haburashi looked his team in the eyes— three, fresh out of the Academy genin— and resolved to teach them as best as he could. And right now, his lesson was simple: “Stay. Away. From. Kakashi. Hatake.”

(Dimension travel fic with a slice of Kakashi being an absolute troll and dealing with the shitty hand he's been dealt with. Seriously, the man has the worst luck in all of Konoha. Also, the mystery of the other Kakashi's history has me leaning by the edge of my seat, I need to know.)

The Governess by Ysmirel

Ship: Kakashi/OFC

"“What,” he finally asked, “is so funny?”

Ibara bit her lower lip to keep the chuckles in, still smiling and making absolutely no effort to get more space between them, seemingly perfectly at ease within reach of a trained shinobi. Her self-control wasn't all that good, as she ended up snorting and was overcame once again by another fit of laughter. “I just- It's just-” She struggled to speak, trying to catch her breath and wiping away tears of mirth with the hand that wasn't still holding onto his vest. Finally, she looked him in the eye and said, with a smile that was all teeth and without a hint of her previous drunken stupor, “and who's going to believe you?”

As he stood there, stunned by her words and change in demeanor, he realized with dawning horror that she was right."

In which Kakashi finds himself at the other end of the troll shtick, and he doesn't appreciate it all that much.

(It's so hard to find self-insert fics with a fresh concept these days, especially in the naruto fandom. Not that I don't enjoy and devour a lot of self insert fics like it's going out of style, but it's just so nice to find something new and shiny and really damn good. I'm so pumped for this fic and how it's going to develop so please join me in rooting for this fic!)

half a league (until the valley of death) by SpectersShadow117

Kakashi can think of no reason for Sasuke's inexplicable and drastic change in behavior. He doesn't like the desperate, haunted gleam in his student's eyes, and he also doesn't like the nagging feeling that he's missing something very important. Aka: Future Sasuke goes to Past Sasuke and gives him a reality check with Specific Intentions, but as with most Uchiha, his methods leave much to be desired. (Featuring: Childhood trauma FTW, Konoha's shitty care of orphans, and absolutely no one having a fun time.)

(Sasuke wanting to change the future out of complete and utter spite has me LIVING. Sasuke is such a Mess here and the twist on the time travel premise is so good and the kid is so Traumatized and Desperate and Not Having A Good Time. Naruto and Sakura developing as better ninjas and Kakashi trying his best makes me want to scream. Also, how Sasuke thinks about Itachi makes me want to cackle. I am 100% down for this. I am rooting for this kid, go get them! XD)

[Harry Potter]

fruit loops in time (circle around me) by justprompts

Ships: Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius

"This is Crabbe, and Goyle," the blonde boy says, pointing at the two boys next to him. "And I'm Malfoy, Draco Ma - "

Ron laughs, and Malfoy immediately bristles.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" Malfoy says, angrily. "No need to ask yours - "

"You're honestly so cute," Ron interrupts, yet again, shaking his head. "So tiny. And so angry, all the time. It's adorable."

Alternatively Ron Weasley, Time Traveller Extraordinaire, is stuck in the same seven year Hogwarts Loop, repeating the same thing over and over again. Naturally, he's so done with everything.

(This is the greatest hp fic I've ever read. I LOVE RON WEASLEY and by the time you read this fic SO WILL YOU!! This is the fic I WISH I have the ability to write. I read this entire fic aloud to my brother and we spent literal hours howling and talking about how utterly insane and incredible this fic is, it's amazing. This is hands down my favorite Ron Weasley. You Can Pry This Fic From My Cold Dead Fingers.)

[Boku no Hero Academia]

Kacchan's Cult by Ourliazo

Pro Hero Ground Zero is attacked, originally meant to be de-aged out of existence by a desperate villain but is instead launched into his 14-year-old self.

But Katsuki is a fucking pro so whatever, time to fuck up someone's day. And sure, maybe he's only one man, but that's why he conscripts the entirety of the UA student body into tearing down some criminal empires.

(It's time travel, crack, and Bakugou being his usual explody, competent self. What more in life do you want? Seriously though, please read. I'm obsessed with this fic and having a Good Time!)

Cleaning Crew; Teaching Kids to Value their Safety, for Fun and Profit by Reavv

Takenaka Hideo is a thirty-two year old, in mild desperation for money, who has just been hired as a new janitor for UA's support staff. He has a quirk that lets him find lost objects, a liaison with the police because of it, and desperate desire for competent co-workers.

Oh, and he's already lived a previous life, in a world where quirks and heroes didn't even exist.

Not a big deal, though. It's not like you ever see the janitor playing a big part in action movies. He's here to get paid, and that's it.

On the opposite side of the equation, class 1-A has to wonder at the new UA cryptid that always seems to show up when things are on fire, and who keeps trying to convince them to let the adults handle the fire extinguisher.

(A great deal of fun packed into one fic. That is how I title this fic and nothing will change my mind! Hideo just wants to quietly do his job and not get in the way. I Relate. Please read!)

Poltergeist by WriterGreenReads

Class 1-A is haunted.

Well, not really.

I AM dead, though.

World's friendliest poltergeist, at your service.

(I don't know how I got so sucked into OC fics, but I found some fantastic fics along the way so I have no regrets. The author really tries to push the premise and I just love all the interactions and dynamics that form as the fic gets further in. And the OC character and all the hijinks they get up to cracks me up! At the same time, it's pretty heartwarming and it's practically a friendships galore fic! Definitely recommend it!)

invincible by supercrunch for Engrin

Ship: Bakugou/Midoriya

This is the way the world works: the sun rises in the east. The strong come out on top. Bakugou Katsuki rockets through life like a comet and Midoriya Izuku stumbles after. If he believed in such things Katsuki would say it was written in the stars. That some god of war had looked at him and said this one. That he’d been passed along a line to get his blessings – genius, willpower, fearless ambition – and dropped off on earth.

Then, of course, there is the question of Deku. The spitfire runt. Deku, no matter what the world does to him, never stops hoping.

Until, of course, he eventually does.

(Katsuki broke him. Snapped him in half like a twig and now has to scramble to put Deku back together. “We can do this, Deku," he says slowly. "There are so many mysteries that never got put to bed. Criminals roaming around looking to hurt people and you and me, we can fix that.”

There’s a long pause. The comforter slips a little off Deku’s skinny shoulders and drowns him. “You mean like a team?”

In that split second, Katsuki makes a decision he’s never even considered. He swallows his pride. “Yeah, Deku. We’d be a team.”)

(If there was any other way canon could've gone, this is the story I would've wanted. It's perfect.)

Inadvertent Wilderness Therapy by Cacid

Following an unfortunate encounter with a teleporter on the last day of internships, Bakugou Katsuki and Hakamata Tsunagu spend some quality time in northern Canada.

In no particular order they will: build ugly survival shelters, stalk rabbits, run from polar bears, reflect on the chemical composition of trees, insult each other, and complain about krumholtz.

(THESE TWO. TOGETHER. IN THE WILDERNESS. IN FUCKING CANADA OF ALL PLACES. I still can't believe this fic actually exists and just how INVESTED I became in their relationship. Blue Jeanist instantly became my favorite ranked hero with this fic alone. HIS SENSE OF HUMOR IS TERRIBLE, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH FNIEWOPAF. BAKUGOU DOES TOO. IT'S FUCKING INCREDIBLE. *incoherent screeching into the wild*)

[Stranger Things]

Baci D'aria by RabbitDarling

“Love is worth the sum of itself, and nothing more.” ― Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic

Steve learned a lot at his Aunt's side before she passed but his favourite thing she taught him was baci d'aria; special little spells that you created from the heart and put into the food you shared.

In opening his heart and gifts to those around him Steve slowly finds himself a family in a way he never thought he'd get to experience. One by One he collects pre-teens to trail in his wake like ducklings and Steve can't even refute it by the time he realizes what has happened.

(This fic is so soft and Steve is just collecting people and winning them over with his magical food (literally). I am always a sucker for heartwarming, good for the soul fics so if you want to make yourself hungry and feel all warm and gooey inside, read this!)

(Don't Fear) The Reaper by TeaFourTwo

Ship: Steve/Billy

He looks down at the blood on his hands and on the floor and wonders why the memory hasn’t broken yet, why he isn’t back in Starcourt mall with control of his body again, wonders if he's even still alive at all. Is this hell then? Or perhaps purgatory? It certainly isn’t heaven, that’s for sure. None of this makes any sense…but then what's new—nothing in Billy’s life makes sense anymore.

Billy laughs then, loud and long and unhinged. It's the only sound in the whole house, and it bounces off the walls like a fucked up echo, like the world is laughing with him.

“Jesus christ you’re insane…” It’s Max’s voice and it’s shaking. It only makes Billy laugh harder, because Max has it all wrong. Billy isn’t crazy, it’s the rest of the world that’s insane.

Billy dies a hero of sorts. He wakes up back in his bed on Saturday morning, the third of November, 1984...nearly nine months earlier.

(Billy is stuck in a time loop and it's slowly driving him crazy. And the fic shows just how much influence Billy did have in the plot and how doomed the world is without him in it. Great character exploration with Billy's character and all the ways he's so messy and human. Definitely recommend it!)

[Knives Out]

The Road Less Traveled By by UisceOneLove

Ship: Marta/Ransom

If Harlan wants to leave Ransom to be on his own, fine. He'll show him just what Ransom Drysdale is capable of.

or, where Ransom chooses to prove his abilities through means of the non-homicidal variety and finds himself becoming exactly what Harlan was hoping he would.

(I found this fic out of sheer chance and god, Ransom is just, so fascinating to me as a character. Marta of course is the Best here and I will forever stan her. Seriously, this is such a good fic! Please read!)

[Haikyuu!!]

Sky Full of Stars by grilledsquids

The Hinatas are twins. They're practically identical.

But while Shouyou seeks out Karasuno's volleyball team to become the next Little Giant, Natsu is scouted to to play soccer for Shiratorizawa. While Shouyou sets his eyes on playing volleyball at the highest level possible, his sister wonders how much longer she can play soccer... and if it's worth it to keep going.

A Natsu-centric story featuring: Shiratorizawa VBC shenanigans, too many soccer OCs, mild teenage drama, a little bit of plot, and Semi Eita not knowing what a period is.

(It's just!! So cute and wholesome!!! The Shiratorizawa volleyball team is so fleshed out along with the OC characters for the girl's soccer team and I swear, it's been a long while since I've laughed this much at the sheer shenanigans that happen in a fic. It's surprisingly hard to find good gen fics in this fandom so finding this gem made me so happy! If you want a fic that brings a smile to your face, read this!!)

like water by speakingincode

Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says, and when Tooru looks at him, he can read My best friend’s an idiot off the crease of his eyebrows. “Are you telling me you spent the last three years weirdly obsessed with Kageyama – I still remember the time you made us play him on a dumb whim, you know – and now you’re at his beck and call? Are you okay? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m— I’m not at his beck and call! I said no last week. It’s… It’s like you said. I get bored easily. I saw him at the park a couple weeks after they played Nationals and called him a perfect little tyrant, and he pestered me into spending time with him after,” Tooru says. “I’m not a monster, Iwa-chan. If he wants the company of his cool, handsome ex-upperclassman that badly, who am I to begrudge him?”

Or: Oikawa doesn't know why Kageyama keeps asking to meet him on Saturdays. He also doesn't know why he keeps saying yes.

(The fact this fic is canon-compliant and covers post-canon too makes me want to shout to the heavens. Fucking incredible! One of the best Oikakage fics ever and it's a crime how it's not at the top of the ship tag. Please please read!!)

twist into your shape by kakkoweeb

Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama

The only thing better than sweets were sweets containing paper that told you whether your future would be good or bad--or in Kageyama and Oikawa's case, paper that somehow caused you to live inside each other's bodies.

(Everyone probably already read this fic but it needs to be said, you need to read this fic. How these two try and manage each other's lives and slowly start to care about one another is so beautiful and sincere and I am ready to wrestle anyone to the floor and comply them into reading this fic. Doesn't matter if you like the ship, you will become a fan if you read it, I promise. Please please read!!)

Take the Long Road Home by pepperfield

Ship: Kuroo/Sawamura

When Azumane Asahi goes missing before his engagement meeting with Kozume Kenma, what other option is there but for Daichi to impersonate his brother and fake his way through a first date with Asahi's fiance?

Okay, let's be realistic - there were probably at least four other options.

Unfortunately, Tetsurou couldn't come up with any of them either, so now he's here flirting with Kenma's future husband while trying to keep his web of deceit from collapsing.

It's going to be an eventful day.

(I got obsessed with this ship alongside Oikakage and SO WILL YOU. THE POTENTIAL. THE BANTER. THE FACT THEY'RE BOTH DORKS AND THE FIC HAS IDENTITY SHENANIGANS DANCING ALL OVER IT!! I had so much fun reading this and these two are MEANT TO BE FENIWPAF. If you don't see the potential of this ship, you will now.)

a misunderstanding a day keeps the boyfriend away by bartallen for betuls

Ship: Kuroo/Sawamura

Kuroo doesn’t fall in love hard and fast like many others do – he falls slowly, and very very softly. Most of the times he doesn’t even realise he’s in love with someone until it’s too late.

(Kuroo is the dumbest man alive and I've never related to someone so hard in my life. God help me.)

You like me. by roseknight

Ship: Daishou/Kuroo

Kuroo nearly lived a Daishou-free life, and sometimes he looked back and wondered how much better and how much worse that would've been.

(I didn't even know who Daishou was until I read this fic and now I can't unsee the potential this ship has. I'm a ruined woman and I regret NOTHING.)

Kings of the Road, Kings of the Universe by EzzyDean

Eight magical captains, one bus, an entire summer (and country) waiting for them.

What could possibly go wrong?

(The magic of friendship meets the magic of a summer road trip meets pure magic.)

(CAPTAIN SQUAD IS THE BEST SQUAD SOMEBODY PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SEND ME SOME CAPTAIN SQUAD FICS I AM SO IN LOVE WITH THIS SQUAD IT'S A PROBLEM AAAAHHHHHH!)

宿縁 : See You Soon by MissKiraBlue

Ship: Oikawa/Kageyama

Upon arriving at the train station of death, an impure soul is granted a second chance at life against his will. Reincarnating into the body of Kageyama Tobio, a 15-year-old boy who recently committed suicide. Tobio's soul will depart at death and the soul needs to slip in to replace it. If the soul's reformation succeeds, he’ll reenter the cycle of rebirth and regain the right to be reborn. He will have three months to accomplish this task.

“Even though you had enough of life,” the soul whispered into the void of the room, “you were still afraid to hurt your hands, Tobio.”

Afraid of giving himself a scar, if he survived.

He touched his pulse and grasped life and couldn’t help but pity Kageyama Tobio.

"You wanted to die and now I’m here making you live again," he whispered into the night.

(I'm not even exaggerating when I say out of all the fics in this entire goddamn, too long list, this is the fic I'm anticipating and heart eyeing the most. It's only starting, but I already cried on chapter fucking 2, the power of this fic, holy shit. The author also wrote the hq time loop Every Tomorrows series, which I have an undying love for and am full on praying for the day it updates, so you KNOW this fic will be just as good. (Anybody who hasn't read this series, where the hell have you been?? Read it!!) Just, everything about this fic hurts me and something in my chest just aches when I read this fic. Go into it blind with an open heart and I swear to you, it's going to change your life. I'm already calling it. Seriously though, please please read!)

[Crossover]

Learning to Fly by Asteroid_Duck (JustThatOneGirl1815)

Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia, Naruto

The number three hero is a walking (well, flying) contradiction in every sense of the word. This includes his teaching skills. Why had Tokoyami agreed to this internship again? Oh right. He’d thought he was actually going to learn something. …….remind him to never be so optimistic again. . . . OR, Kakashi Hatake is reincarnated as the pro hero, Hawks. Tokoyami Fumikage suffers as a result.

(The reincarnation fic I never thought I needed and it's so good!! I've never really paid attention to Tokoyami and this fic sent me headfirst into loving him. Their dynamic is so interesting and I just love how their relationship develops. Also, Kakashi trolling the poor kid made me cackle, it's great! Definitely recommend it!)

Si Vis Pacem by athenoot

Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia, John Wick

Everything has a price. That's what John has always known and will forever remember, even in death.

Which is pretty ironic considering his current circumstance.

Instead of a grown, scarred, weary body belonging to a man as cruel and broken as him, he's inhabiting a younger, smaller, unblemished one belonging to a child with strangely colored hair, and is living in what seems to be a superhuman society.

Well. May it never be said that John isn't a strategist. He can live with this. Maybe.

(Somewhere out there in the universe, he's certain he could hear the laughter of his enemies from beyond the grave.)

Or: John Wick is reincarnated as Midoriya Izuku. The world should probably watch its back.

(This should be one of the crackiest fics I've read in a while, but it's taken so seriously and I'm so HERE FOR THIS. John Wick being John Wick in a world of quirks and heroes is the GREATEST, honestly, he's so badass. Bakugou, I feel for you, you must be so fucking confused lol. Bakugou trying his best to be a good friend is one of the best things about this fic. Trust me, this fic will make your day, promise!)

A Girl's Mind is a Dangerous Place by clenastia

Fandoms: Naruto, Fairy Tail

Natsu wakes up in Sakura's body. It only gets worse from there. Also known as: In Which Natsu has No Idea what to do with Boobs.

(I binged this in two fucking days, I couldn't put it down. This fic reminded me why I liked fairy tail when I was younger and why Natsu is honestly such a great protagonist, god. And the fic does that thing, you know, the Thing where when two worlds collide, the characters struggle to acclimate and adapt to a completely another world with different rules and mindsets against their own. This fic is seriously one of the best when it comes to that aspect, it's incredible. I am going absolutely feral over here for this fic to update, I'm waiting in the wings, ready to pounce like a tiger, all the metaphors man. For the love of god, read this fic.)

Give me a landscape made of obstacles by Melise

Fandoms: Naruto, Natsume's Book of Friends

Kakashi Hatake isn’t who he says he is.

Because the truth is that he’s actually a youkai in disguise, a wolf spirit named Madara who stumbled across the Hatake clan during the Warring States Period. Intrigued by the shinobi he saw, he’d proposed a temporary alliance in which he would offer the clan protection in exchange for their teachings.

Decades later, Madara is surprised to find himself inadvertently summoned to Konoha by the last living member of the Hatake clan. Sakumo Hatake, who is mourning the recent deaths of his wife and stillborn child, doesn’t want to be alone anymore. So with his permission, Madara takes the place of Sakumo’s deceased son in order to watch over the last Hatake.

(Fusion in which the youkai of Natsume’s Book of Friends all exist in the Naruto world. No knowledge of Natsume’s Book of Friends required).

(Before this fic, I only had a very vague idea of what Natsume's Book of Friends was, and honestly, I still don't know much about it. But I didn't really need to know to get into this fic. I love the worldbuilding and the relationships Kakashi forms, both supernatural and mortal. I love how Kakashi's inhumane ways affect others around him, whether to stress them out or become used to the strange. You can go straight into this fic without knowing anything and absolutely still have a fantastic time. I definitely recommend this so please read!)

#Fanfiction #AO3 #Fic Rec #Fic Rec List #Naruto #Harry Potter #Boku no Hero Academia #Stranger Things #Knives Out #Haikyuu!!#Crossover #John Wick #Fairy Tail #Natsume's Book of Friends

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sagamemes · 3 years

Text

the sheridan tapes 📼 part two. here and under the cut, you can find over 130 lines of dialogue from the horror podcast the sheridan tapes, specifically from episodes four to six, edited for roleplay purposes. some of these focus heavily on survival, war, science, and spooky stuff, but a lot can be used by anyone. tw: war, unreality, a mention of cannibalism, implications of manic behaviour.

❝ god, i hate snowstorms like this. not just getting caught in them, but the storms themselves. it feels like the earth’s trying to bury me alive every time it locks in like this. like nature’s rightly pissed off at all of us and doing its level best to crush us to death. ❞

❝ that’s what yom kippur means: the day of atonement. ❞

❝ that wasn’t the first time i’ve caught him in my office, going through my stuff. ❞

❝ normally i’d be annoyed at someone calling me young lady. ❞

❝ thank you… you are so warm… thank you for letting me in. ❞

❝ suddenly, everything fell into place. i made more progress than i had in about half a year. ❞

❝ the thing i remember most was catching disapproving glances from my father every time i went to the library. ❞

❝ why does time only run forward? why does cause need to precede effect? ❞

❝ no one knows if they can trust me with casework or not. ❞

❝ i didn’t say i was interested. ❞

❝ [he/i] was taken off duty and sent for psychiatric evaluation the next day. ❞

❝ coffee. i was making coffee. ❞

❝ i didn't mean to get stuck out here. ❞

❝ that just goes to show how small humans really are in the grand scheme of things: take away our tools and our toys and our technology, and we’re still just as vulnerable as we ever were. ❞

❝ she was good at that: making you feel like you were safe, like you could open up to her. ❞

❝ i’m just going to cover that one up. no harm in keeping it out of sight for the moment. ❞

❝ maybe there was someone in the stairs. ❞

❝ i think i did the lion’s share of the talking, which almost never happens. ❞

❝ i couldn’t get to sleep... i figured i’d get a head start today. ❞

❝ i’m afraid i don’t have all of the details of your involvement with the… tragic events in [place]. and i don’t think i’m the only one. ❞

❝ i’m still not sure i understand the whole tradition. ❞

❝ whatever it is, it’s chasing me. i can hear it’s footsteps in the snow, i can hear it— ❞

❝ when you work nights here, the less you really think about them, the better. ❞

❝ honestly, i just can’t get it out of my head. ❞

❝ snow is one of nature’s simplest and most effective ways of killing you dead if you aren’t prepared for it. ❞

❝ i wish you’d tell me what you’re doing here. i could lose my job if anything gets broken or if you end up getting hurt in there… ❞

❝ would you say you… considered her a friend? ❞

❝ would you mind saying your name again? for the recording? ❞

❝ if that was true, then there was something—and as a scientist, i hate to say this—supernatural going on in that lab. ❞

❝ most of them didn’t make it. a lot of them died afraid and alone, too. ❞

❝ i know you don’t like listening to these things, so i just wanted to help you out with… ❞

❝ if i could sleep, then trust me, i would. ❞

❝ i’m guessing the new owners are trying to make this place seem less creepy than it already is. ❞

❝ my schooling was expensive and unremarkable. ❞

❝ a lot of them died afraid and alone, too: ideal conditions for the making of poltergeists, in my experience. ❞

❝ look, i’m sorry, but this really isn’t a good time for anything, so if you wouldn’t mind… ❞

❝ basically, i was picturing a slightly creepier morticia addams. i couldn’t have been more wrong. ❞

❝ now i have to deal with [name]’s aspirations to write drama.. ❞

❝ i promise i won’t get you sacked. ❞

❝ i’ve never been very religious, but for some reason… it made me think of hell. ❞

❝ i think it may have been a thank you. ❞

❝ i’m working the graveyard shift and i noticed the lights were on. ❞

❝ i shouldn’t be here. no one asked me to come in this early. ❞

❝ everyone around here looks at me like i’m some kind of leper. ❞

❝ i had to go home for a few hours. i’m already on thin ice around here, and i didn’t want to get in more trouble for screaming obscenities up and down the wall. ❞

❝ it was… darkness. no, that doesn’t do it credit, the whole place was dark. this was just... void. ❞

❝ if i’d seen her anywhere else, i’d think she was an athlete or a backpacker. ❞

❝ better scientists than me have been bashing their heads into that particular wall since 1927. ❞

❝ i just want you to know that… whatever you really are... you’re safe here. ❞

❝ goats being goats, it would just come back the next day looking for food. ❞

❝ i would like you to leave my office now… and i’ll ask you not to tamper with evidence in the future, understood? ❞

❝ no, of course, i don’t have signal out here, so i can’t just call triple-a. ❞

❝ what are you doing in my office—at four goddamn thirty in the morning? ❞

❝ you ever wonder where the line is? you know, between human and not? ❞

❝ the funny thing i’ve noticed about war: no matter how terrible the fighting is, there always seems to be too much waiting. too much quiet. too much sitting around, bored to tears between fits of chaos and violence, lost in routine while waiting for the other shoe to drop. ❞

❝ a lot of people condemn them for that. we’re so sure we’d never resort to that—that we’d rather die than cross that unspoken boundary. ❞

❝ i’ve been at the [workplace/institution] for ten years now. that’s long enough to know that the ones who ask questions are the ones who can’t cut it. ❞

❝ the program blew every fuse in the lab. including the lights. ❞

❝ it was soon after they left that i began to have trouble sleeping. ❞

❝ perhaps we never knew each other as well as most friends do, but… we cared for one another. ❞

❝ most of her questions are a bit above my pay grade. ❞

❝ i’m trying, i’m trying! i can’t get the door open! ❞

❝ i don’t know why she needed my help: i think she had a better grasp of it than most science fiction writers. ❞

❝ we both had places to be afterwards, so we kind of rushed. i really wish i’d taken the time to say goodbye. ❞

❝ i guess some things just… don’t want to stay buried. ❞

❝ it was completely against orders of course, but no one really noticed or cared that far from the front. ❞

❝ i offered to buy him a cup of coffee. ❞

❝ newspapers praised them at the time: saw them as heroes of exploration and paragons of pioneer courage. ❞

❝ i signed a lot of big, scary nda’s during my time there. ❞

❝ i did the only thing that came to mind: i took a grenade from my belt, removed the pin, and threw it. ❞

❝ i doubt this storm will last more than a couple of days, and once it lets up we can sneak out of here and get going again. very, very carefully. ❞

❝ given enough time, everything will rot away to its elementary components, and that, you can’t reverse. ❞

❝ i really can’t see anything from inside the van. ❞

❝ i knew there were a few experiments that dealt with some pretty high-level theoretical concepts, but i wasn’t directly involved with any of them. ❞

❝ it’s a strange choice, but then again, he’s a strange man. ❞

❝ i know, it sounds ridiculous. trust me, i’ve done everything i can think of to make that conclusion go away. ❞

❝ scared the bejeezus out of a bunch of skiers, but they were nice enough to let me in after deciding i probably wasn’t a ghost. ❞

❝ please… it burns my skin… please… ❞

❝ i forgot how fast storms blow in up here. ❞

❝ it’s not like i felt out of control: it felt more natural than breathing. ❞

❝ i didn’t know what i was doing, not at any conscious level. but one step seemed to lead to another, then the next, and then the next. ❞

❝ it’s called a butcher’s shop in some places, but a mortuary in others. as much as i’d love to imply there was some sweeney todd style recycling going on here, i think the place has just been a lot of things over the years. ❞

❝ god, these things are creepy as hell. ❞

❝ if you wouldn’t mind, please, tell us what happened? in your own time, of course. ❞

❝ it took a few long, nerve-wracking days to work up my courage and visit the section again. ❞

❝ it’s not that odd to think that people ate each other out there. ❞

❝ i didn’t think there was a ghost in my room or anything like that, i just kept hearing noises whenever i was about to fall asleep. ❞

❝ i downed half a dozen energy drinks at 6 and called it dinner—i know, i know, it’s a nasty habit i picked up in grad school. ❞

❝ they told me that the cpu and motherboard had somehow been melted into a solid lump of plastic and silicon. ❞

❝ i mean, [name] was a pain in the ass, but at least he didn’t… ❞

❝ my schedule was full, but i had something else fall through at the last minute. i had your number on my desk, so i thought i may as well call. ❞

❝ i wonder if it was afraid, or if it even realized what was going to happen. it probably didn’t. ❞

❝ i need to get more coffee. or punch someone. whichever’s more convenient. ❞

❝ god, if that’s really how i sound… ❞

❝ people think i write horror, but i don’t really think that’s true. i just write fiction with all of the comfortable little lies taken out of it. ❞

❝ i have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night. ❞

❝ i think he felt something about this place… some influence or power that needed to be destroyed, so he tried to do it the only way he knew how. ❞

❝ well, it’s a tricky thing. the more realistic you make them, the more… unreal they start to look. i think it’s something about the eyes. ❞

❝ i offered to stay late, just to smooth things over. ❞

❝ maybe i can get some writing done while i’m stuck here… ❞

❝ no child could grow up in a jewish home surrounded by books and not read at least one story about golems. ❞

❝ i just wasn’t a good student, despite my love of reading. ❞

❝ i have to say, i like your jane doe. ❞

❝ she was a scientist herself. maybe not formally, but her way of thinking, her insight, her methods... they were scientist’s qualities. ❞

❝ seriously, what do i need to do to get a little privacy around here, a little dignity? hang a ‘ do not disturb ’ sign on the door? change all my locks? ❞

❝ maybe it was stupid, but i figured, ‘ hey, early december, not a cloud in the sky—should still be fine, right? ’ ❞

❝ jesus, [name], i wasn’t born yesterday. ❞

❝ maybe doing this while it’s still dark outside isn’t the best idea. ❞

❝ more than a century and a half have passed, and this place is still just as dangerous as it was then. ❞

❝ now, [mr./ms./mx. name], i’m sure you know why you’re here. ❞

❝ the [event] was a bust—only about a dozen people showed up all afternoon. ❞

❝ i never put much stock in the idea of inspiration, but for the first time in my life, it felt like i wasn’t pushing myself through the muck of miscalculation and guesswork towards a solution. i was being pulled towards an answer that already existed. ❞

❝ it felt like i was a few steps from finding out something fundamental. some truth about our universe that no other scientist had ever dared to dream of. ❞

❝ huh. that’s… that’s weird. i could’ve sworn there wasn’t a sculpture back there before. ❞

❝ apparently, no one had told them what i was doing, and i wasn’t actually cleared to leave. ❞

❝ maybe he’s trying to make amends. keeping watch over these half-living things to make sure no harm comes to them. ❞

❝ i expected the building to be wreathed in shadow and overgrown with cobwebs, but it's actually really nice. ❞

❝ sorry, i was trying to get my recorder working, but it froze up on me so i had to find a tape for this old… ❞

❝ okay. just… don’t get me sacked, alright? can’t exactly retire on this salary. ❞

❝ but if it was real—i don’t know if i somehow created it, or if it was feeding me information about itself before it appeared. ❞

❝ i’ve never had a manic episode before, and i was well below the level of caffeine needed to cause intoxication. as far as i can tell, there isn’t a medical explanation for what happened. ❞

❝ i don’t get the appeal of meeting real celebrities. it’s just a cheap shock of recognition, and nothing more. ❞

❝ whatever this… thing was, it sounds pretty dangerous. ❞

❝ are you familiar with temporal asymmetry? ❞

❝ i just want to make that abundantly clear: this /wasn’t/ the plan. ❞

❝ right then, now let’s get started. please state your name and rank for the record. ❞

❝ though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light. ❞

❝ a cracker of a book, young lady. ❞

❝ no wonder they’re keeping them in storage. they’d give anyone nightmares. ❞

❝ i was just going to finish out my shift unless… you want me to stick around? ❞

❝ i went to the university, but don’t remember much of the years i spent there. ❞

❝ having to study textbooks and essays day in and day out took all of the joy out of reading for a long time. ❞

❝ we call paradoxes paradoxes for a reason: no matter how plausible they seem, they can never really happen. ❞

❝ i don’t know what happened to me that night. i still don’t even know if what i saw was real. ❞

❝ when we look into the void for too long, we find the monsters instead. ❞

#sentence starters #sentence meme #rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #rp meme #* sentences.#* meme.#sheridan #trying some minor new things w/ the formatting #especially for these longer #non numbered sentence memes

150 notes · View notes

inliar · 3 years

Text

timing

word count: 5.3k

jinhwan x reader

you have the uncanny knack of running into kim jinhwan exactly when he needs it. he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued.

a/n: support ikon on kingdom!

the first time you meet him, it’s at your friend’s debut stage. once upon a time, you and your friend, yerin, had been trainees together in a decently small company. but while her skills only grew over time, morphing into something fascinating and breathtaking that deserved to be shown to the world, yours had stagnated. it wasn’t for lack of effort – you had put just as many hours into dance and vocal lessons as the others – but it was, probably, for lack of passion.

at some point, you had stopped emphasizing with your fellow trainee’s heartfelt speeches on their dreams of debuting, and it was around then that you realized you weren’t meant to be an idol in the same way they were. it was alright, though, because if anyone out of the two of you deserved to debut, it was her. you’d never felt any regret after terminating your short trainee agreement with your label.

but your friendship had never ceased, and you’d kept in regular contact with yerin, as well as the other trainees set to debut in the rookie group. you often took to reminding them to eat their meals, or to take breaks in between lessons, because you’d experienced first-hand how thoroughly unchecked passions can blind a person to their obvious needs.

finally, their efforts had culminated into a debut, and you wouldn’t miss their first stage for the world. their manager, minseo (who, in a different timeline, might have been your manager as well) was kind enough to let you visit them face-to-face in their waiting room for the music program.

“nervous?” you ask, taking in yerin’s brightly-coloured romper and her bleached, curled, strands of hair. it’s such a far departure from the tracksuits and messy ponytail you’d often seen her sporting during early morning dance practices, but it somehow suits her better than anything else you’d ever seen her wear.

“excited.” she responds instead, with a frightening degree of certainty. it must be nice, you think, to have something you want so desperately and unfalteringly. but watching your best friend get to live out her dreams is almost just as nice.

you nod, feeling the corners of your lips quirk up. “have i ever told you how proud i am of you?” you say, lightheartedly, suppressing the urge to ruffle your hand over her well-styled hair.

“no, but since it’s coming from you, i know you mean it.” she says with such sincerity that you feel an unexpected surge of pride lodge itself into your chest.

you clear your throat. this won’t do. she hasn’t even performed yet and you’re already turning into a sentimental mess. “i’m going to go get myself something to drink,” you say, excusing yourself. “do you want anything?”

her eyes brighten. “ooh, can i have an orange soda?” she asks, before pausing and turning around. “wait, manager-nim, am i allowed to drink soda before a stage?”

minseo tears her eyes away from her phone and straightens up. “as long as it’s not something that will rapidly stain your teeth, it should be fine. are you thirsty? do you need me to get you something?”

you pipe up. “oh, it’s fine, i can get it. you should stay with the group, unni, you’re the manager.” then, you raise your voice and direct it towards the rest of the girls. “hey, guys, i’m getting yerin a drink from the vending machine. does anyone else want anything?”

“oh, can i have a canned coffee?” you hear one of the members – jiyoung’s – voice ask.

“me too!” hyemin’s voice adds.

“vitamin water, please!” mirae’s voice calls.

you tally the drinks up in your head. two canned coffees, an orange soda, and vitamin water. you hold up an ‘okay’ sign with your hand and nod. jiyoung jokingly salutes in return.

“can i pay you back?” minseo offers, pulling out a credit card that most definitely won’t work on the rickety vending machines you’d seen on your way to the waiting room.

you shake your head dismissively. “it’s just a couple of drinks, and besides, i have a ton of coins i need to get rid of. you can buy me a meal later, yeah?” you offer, and minseo nods. “at this rate, i’ll have to hire you as my assistant.” she jokes, lightheartedly, and you smile. you wouldn’t mind that at all.

you recite the list of drinks to yourself as you make it out of their waiting room and towards the vending machine. two canned coffees, an orange soda, and vitamin water. two canned coffees, an orange soda, and vitamin water. two ca—

thud.

the small sound shakes you out of your mantra and, instinctively, you turn towards the noise. judging by the obvious frustration radiating from the person in front of you and his relative position to the vending machine, you figure he just kicked the poor thing.

“are you alright?” you ask, tentatively, and the person in question turns to face you.

oh. it’s kim jinhwan. from ikon.

you try your hardest to suppress a smile. yerin loves ikon. she’d be so jealous to know that you ran into one of the members today, and in such an innocuous way at that.

“yes, sorry.” jinhwan offers, looking almost sheepish. “the machine stole my money, and-”

almost on cue, you hear a voice call out in the distance. “hurry up, hyung! you said it’d only take a few minutes!”

jinhwan’s expression instantly sours, and you nod in understanding. “what did you try to get, sunbaenim?” you ask politely, turning towards the machine and scanning its contents.

“just an energy drink. but i guess i’ll be fine without it.” he explains, trying a little too hard to sound lighthearted and unbothered.

you identify the drink in question and punch in its code. after feeding your coins into the machine, you watch as the suddenly functional appliance pushes the energy drink out of its row and into the bottom of the machine.

squatting, you grab the drink and hold it out. “please, take this.” you offer as you stand up, suddenly noticing how heavily the foundation under his eyes is applied. you inwardly frown. he must really need the boost. “it’s the one you wanted, right?”

he doesn’t take it, instead opting to stare at it instead. “i couldn’t, i don’t have any more change on me right now.” he says, despite eyeing the drink longingly.

“hyung! we have to go!” the voice from before calls out again, insistently. he turns towards the voice before turning back to you, conflicted. you put on what you hope is a reassuring smile before pushing the drink with a little more force into his hands. instinctively, he takes it.

“please don’t worry about it, it’s just a drink. good luck with your stage, sunbaenim!” you cheer, gently.

he looks at the drink, then looks at you, then glances behind him at what you presume to be his waiting room before looking at you again.

“jinhwan hyung!” the voice demands with an intimidating undercurrent of finality, leaving no more room to stall. you tilt your head towards it meaningfully.

“i.. thank you.” he finally says, tightly, before turning around and running away. satisfied, you turn towards the vending machine. what did your friends ask for? right, two canned coffees, an orange soda, and vitamin water. you punch the drink codes in, methodically inserting all of your loose change you had been trying to get rid of for so long, and add an extra coffee in for minseo for good measure. if she’s going to make good on her dinner promise, and you know she will, she should get a little something in return.

(you would have gotten her something even if you didn't coerce her into buying you food. a part of you thrives at the feeling of taking care of others, and you dimly wonder if that means anything.)

the next time you meet him is yet another case of being in the right place at the right time, for lack of a better phrase.

you’d spent a good portion of your school days active as a trainee. so, when you’d eventually exited the entertainment industry, you were strikingly behind all the other students your age in the cruelly competitive system that was korea’s education system. you were planning on taking a gap year to figure out exactly what you wanted to do with the rest of your life (which was generally frowned upon, as students were expected to naturally know these things), but minseo had saved you from that fate. “since the girls have been getting a little bigger recently, i’ve been given the permission and the budget to hire an assistant manager.” she had explained through a spontaneous phone call, her voice crackling over the receiver as you shifted your cellphone to your other ear. “if i can trust anyone to care for them the way that i do, it’s you.”

“will it be okay?” you had asked, not against the proposition but not wanting to get her in trouble. “i have no managerial experience, and i’m in the same age range as the members. i don’t want the company to come off as unprofessional.”

she had reassured you that you wouldn’t be working on anything that she wouldn’t teach you to do first, and that, as long as you didn’t boast about your age, it would be fine. “i was allowed to write the hiring criteria, and if you just happen to be the perfect candidate, then so be it.” she had said, and you could almost imagine the conspiratorial wink she would have shot in your direction if you were talking face to face.

and so your reentrance to the entertainment industry had begun; except this time, you were on the other, more secluded, side of the stage. you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t considered being a manager before; you’ve always been the type to take care of others, and when minseo had joked about taking you on as an assistant before, a secret part of you had taken it a little too close to heart. but you had never actually expected her words to become a reality.

the job isn’t too hard to pick up. you’re assigned a lot of small yet useful tasks, like calling the salons and confirming hair appointment times, or writing the minutes for meetings about comeback concepts. sometimes, your only role for the day is simply coaxing minseo unni into stopping and taking a lunch break. you’re busy, for sure, but not yet at the juggling-octopus level of the senior manager, who is somehow able to coordinate every other task and responsibility that involves the group simultaneously and all without fail. while you just have to confirm the things she’s already set up, she has to do all the preparation work. you’ve seen her meticulously arrange and assign each member’s schedules, all the while keeping an eye on album sales and concert venues and security payroll and feedback from their vocal or dance instructors. just by looking at her essay of a to-do list that’s propped up on her desk, you understand why the company gave her the permission to hire an assistant.

the most important responsibility she had given you, however, was to be the first line of contact with the members of the group. “you know them better than i do, so i think you’d do a better job of helping them out. they’re not too fussy, so it shouldn’t be too hard to work with them? just keep an eye on the members, and check on them every now and then. of course, let me know if you need any extra help.” a very harried minseo had told you, while on hold with the videography company who, annoyingly, hadn’t confirmed what time they were coming in tomorrow to film the dance video for the group’s upcoming comeback.

“yes, of course.” you had replied, fully intending to not do just that. you were going to avoid adding any responsibilities to minseo unni’s workload at all costs.

there wasn’t much that you needed to do. occasionally, you needed to get the members drinks or snacks while they were in their waiting rooms before music show performances, or make sure that they checked in with you before they went out anywhere. to help with this, you had gotten into the habit of carrying a backpack with you at all times, fully stocked with the necessities: an assortment of the member’s favourite snacks, an epipen for hyemin’s peanut allergy tucked in a small first aid kit, extra hair elastics, pads and tampons, and various sets of phone chargers.

“you’re already, like, one of those overprepared asian mothers that carries everything in her massive purse, and you’re barely an adult.” yerin had snickered one day while you reorganized your bag in their dorm.

you had grinned, teasingly pushing her away. “it’s this overprepared asian mother that has your precious pocky at hand, so watch it.” you’d warned, shaking the snack box in the air.

“don’t shake it!” yerin had yelped, cradling the cookie sticks protectively against her chest. “you’ll break them.”

it was the last week of promotions for the group’s third mini album, and you had just finished supervising the stage hands as they finished setting up the stage. satisfied, you grab your backpack from the chair it was lounging on, thank them for their hard work, and beeline for the exit, wondering if you can run into the girls before they get called down for their pre-stage interview.

“—ust going to have to wait, we don’t have any on hand right now.” you hear a gruff sounding voice say, and subconsciously, you look towards the source of the noise.

just across the hallway from you is what appears to be a very tall manager and a very short idol, judging from the casual apparel the taller is wearing and the shiny, glittery jacket the shorter one has on. the one in the glittery jacket is clutching at his shoulder in obvious discomfort.

“how long do you think it will take?” the shorter asks, letting go of his shoulder and rolling it back, and you’d recognize that voice anywhere. yerin had recently been studying his stage habits by watching his fancams on repeat, and at this point, his voice was engraved in the back of your mind. it’s jinhwan, again. (“i can’t believe you got to meet jinhwan sunbae before i did,” yerin had pouted when you had told her about your previous encounter. “but why did you call him sunbae? he’s not technically your senior anymore.”

“so i used to be a trainee, and old habits die hard. sue me.” you had defended yourself, protectively, before making a mental note to stop doing that.)

“i’m not sure. i’m not supposed to leave the shooting site, and no one else has answered my calls yet. do you think you’ll be able to do the stage without a patch?” the manager asks.

the idol who you now recognize as jinhwan winces, and you take that as your cue to dig through your bag. after finding what you’re looking for, you take a nervous breath and walk towards the pair.

“hello,” you greet tentatively, bowing. the two of them turn to face you, and politely bow back. you don’t miss the way jinhwan’s face grimaces ever so slightly as he does so.

“i’m really sorry if i’m being invasive, but i happened to hear what was going on.” you start. at that, you offer him the pair of pain-relief patches you were clutching securely with both of your hands. “please, take these.”

the two of them pause, taking a second to read the upside-down text on the packaging. in hindsight, you probably should have held it so the text was facing them. “won’t you need them?” the manager asks, eventually looking back up at you.

you shake your head in denial, eyes wide. “no, no. i always have extras in my bag. besides, the ones my members use most often are the ankle patches, so i won’t miss these.” you explain, taking a short, meaningful glance at jinhwan’s shoulder before pushing the packages into his manager’s hands.

he takes them. “thank you,” he says, gratefully, and you smile.

“yes, of course.” you reply, taking another quick glance at jinhwan. he’s staring at you, expression carefully blank, but, upon making eye contact. he bows his head. “thank you,” he says as well, and you pause. there’s something in his tone that sounds off, but you can’t quite pinpoint what it is.

you don’t have time to stand there and think about it, though, because your group is going to get called down for their interview any minute now. and while you don’t technically have to be there, minseo said that it would be a good idea for you to monitor them. “just so you can get used to your job,” she had said, and you agreed. it would be entirely selfish to back out on that now, just to stand and meaninglessly analyze a person you had no connections with.

“i … have to go now.” you begin, tentatively, ignoring the pressing feeling in the pit of your stomach thats begging you to stay and figure out what feels so wrong. “good luck on your stage, sunb- i mean! jinhwan-ssi, and i hope your shoulder feels better.”

you bow, reflexively, trying your best not to make a weird face out of embarrassment, and jinhwan bows back. “thank you, again.” he reiterates, and you turn to leave.

it’s only after you’re absolutely sure that you’re out of their line of view before you let yourself cringe. sunbae? you tried to call him sunbae? you really, really, need to get out of that habit. what kind of interaction was that?

‘but is he okay?’ a smaller, more insistent, voice in the back of your head asks, and you frown. you don’t know.

in between your last memorable encounter and the next one, you see him a few times. your group passes by him in a few music programs, you run into their group at a hair appointment, and a few other miscellaneous encounters as such naturally occur. but you never interact. as a manager, it’s not your job to play buddy-buddy with other idol groups, especially if they’re not even in your company. you’ve always done a very good job of staying out of the spotlight, and, as a manager, most people don’t spare you a glance. jinhwan doesn’t even look in your direction.

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed.

the third time you meet him is not, for once, at a music program. you’re in hapjeong-dong, meaning to visit a friend who’d recently moved into the area. but she’d last-minute changed her housewarming party time to a dinner party instead of a lunch meetup. by the time you’d got the memo, you were already halfway across seoul on the subway. since you hadn’t eaten anything yet, and you no longer had lunch plans, your first stop is at the first ramen shop you see after you exit the terminal.

“i’m afraid we’re a little full at the moment, ma’am, and the only seats available are at the counter. will that be alright?” the hostess asks, smiling warmly.

“yes, that’s great.” you say, and you let her escort you to the counter and hand you a menu. you prop up your purse and your housewarming gift on the chair next to you before taking it, thanking her.

as you’re flipping through the menu, mentally calculating how much more you’ll be able to spend this month, you hear the tinkling of the bell at the front door signalling another customer. a cursory glance around the relatively full counter area lets you know that there’s only one seat left, and you’re hogging it with your bags. you quickly take them off the only available chair and bend down to set them on the ground below your feet.

“... and here you go, sir, i’ll be back with a menu shortly.” the bubbly hostess says, smiling politely at the customer whose face you haven’t seen yet. you straighten up, taking a quick look at the hostess and the customer before turning back to look at your menu.

“yes, thank you,” the customer says, and you freeze. you must be hearing things. there is no way that you are eating lunch next to kim jinhwan in a random restaurant.

the customer sits down next to you, and you shoot another quick look at the man who is taking off his mask. who is most definitely kim jinhwan.

do you … do you say anything? idols deserve to eat in peace, so should you pretend not to recognize him? but won’t sitting in a stony, awkward silence as you eat next to each other be even worse? you contemplate burying yourself in your phone for the entire meal, before realizing that you left it in your purse. and there’s no feasible way that you can grab it without having to scoot back your chair, get off the stool to open your bag, and sit back up on it again.

unfortunately for you, he looks in your direction as you’re gaping at him, panic-struck. the resulting eye contact is unbearably awkward on your end, but he looks at you as if he’s trying to remember who you are.

“pardon me, but are you the one who … with the pain-relief patch?” he asks, gesturing slightly with his hands as he sits dodwn. it’s vague and awkward, and if he did that to anyone else they’d be very confused, but you know exactly what he means.

you blush a little. there’s nothing else you can say now. “yes, uh, i think that was me.”

“and … the vending machine?” he ventures.

your eyes widen a little at that. that was so many months ago. he still remembers? “the energy drink, right? that was also me. hello, jinhwan-ssi.” you offer, tentatively, bowing your head slightly. at this point, there’s no use pretending you don’t know his name. he bows his head in return.

“may i ask for your name?” jinhwan asks, tentatively.

“oh, ah, i’m ______.” you respond. “it’s nice to meet you, officially.”

jinhwan nods in agreement, seemingly taking in all the new information for a few seconds. after a short pause, he continues. “do you also work in the entertainment industry?” he asks, slowly.

“yes, i’m an assistant manager for kyubie, a new girlgroup at AB entertainment,” you introduce yourself. it still feels a little strange to say that title out loud. assistant manager. you’re an assistant manager.

“ah, i see.” jinhwan says, smiling a little as he processes the information, and you politely smile back. a part of you wants to help him carry this conversation out, but the other, more dominant part of you is just as socially awkward as he looks like he feels and is absolutely incapable of doing such a thing.

“you look quite young for a manager,” he offers, as an odd semblance of a compliment, and you take it in stride.

“i get that a lot! i actually used to be a trainee at AB, but i ended up becoming a manager inst!—ead …” you start, mouth running itself as it struggles to fill the awkward silence, before you register what you just said.

“i, uh, i wasn’t supposed to say that.” you mutter, loudly enough so its audible but quietly enough to express your regret.

jinhwan, for what it’s worth, only looks placidly amused. “don’t worry, i won’t say a word,” he assures you. he doesn’t ask for any more details or for an elaboration on why it would be a secret. you’re grateful for that.

“thank you,” you say, trying not to let the relief show itself too heavily in your tone. if he notices it, he doesn’t say a word.

“i should be thanking you. for the drink and for the pain-relief patches, before. i don’t think i could have done my stage without either.” he assures you, kindly. “i didn’t get to thank you properly before.”

you shake your head in denial. “no, no, don’t worry about it. i get what it’s like to always be running low on time. and you did say thank you! i didn’t feel underappreciated, or ignored, or anything like that.” you explain, letting out your first real smile since the beginning of the conversation.

(you miss the way his eyes linger on it for a beat too long.)

“i’m glad that you think that, then,” jinhwan says, faintly, as the hostess comes back with his menu that he barely even scans before ordering. you, too, order, ignoring the meaningful glances she’s throwing at the two of you. that’s a misunderstanding that can be resolved in the unlikely chance it becomes an issue.

“so,” jinhwan starts, “tell me about your group.”

and you’re gone.

conversation flows surprisingly easily once the two of you find your common ground. as a manager and as a friend, you have a lot to tell him about your members and how they act. “one of them, my friend, actually, she’s a really big fan of yours.” you mention, offhandedly. you’ve gone long past the point where you’re trying to filter yourself.

“is that so?” he asks, calmly, and you grin.

“yeah. she was really jealous when i told her that i met you before,” you laugh, “and she’ll probably be a little bit jealous that i met you again today.”

“what about you?” he asks, and then looks a little bit startled. almost as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“i’m sorry?” you ask, despite knowing perfectly well what he’d meant to say. you do your best to not blush.

jinhwan, having seemingly decided to just go with it, smiles. “are you a fan of mine, too?” he asks, and oh, your cheeks are not supposed to feel this hot.

“i, uh—” you flounder, trying to think of a way to answer this professionally, before a strangely brave crevice of your mind tells you to be honest.

“before? i don’t know. but now? probably.” you admit, which is good enough for jinhwan.

he doesn’t push it (probably because you looked like a tomato just then and he wants to save your blood pressure), and instead steers the conversation back to your life as a manager and his funny anecdotes in the entertainment industry. for someone who is so soft spoken and looked so thoroughly awkward when you first met, he tries incredibly hard to keep the conversation flowing and comfortable. you’re half in awe at his easy going nature.

you eat slowly once you get your food, selfishly wanting the conversation to last longer, but eventually there are no more noodles left in your plate and half of the lunchtime rush has already cleared out. jinhwan excuses himself to pay, asking you to watch his jacket, and you grab your purse and your housewarming gift from the floor while you wait. your phone tells you that it’s been nearly two hours since you entered the restaurant, and you must have suddenly forgotten how to read time, because there’s no possible way you had spent that long talking with jinhwan.

he eventually comes back. he puts his mask on and grabs his jacket from the back of his chair, and you take that as your cue to head to the payment counter. “i’m here to pay for my order,” you say, pulling out your wallet, and the checkout man shakes his head.

“you’re already paid for,” he explains, and you frown. “pardon me?” you ask, unsure if you heard him right.

“the gentleman who sat next to you has already paid for your meal,” he clarifies, and you stand there for a moment.

“are— are you sure?” you ask, confusedly. the checkout man nods. “here’s the purchase receipt if you want to be sure.”

the sound of the front door bell tinkling draws your attention, and you turn to see jinhwan’s figure leave the shop. “thank you!” you exclaim hurriedly to the counter, mindlessly stuffing the receipt in your left pocket before booking it out of there.

by the time you get to the outside of the shop, jinhwan is a good ten meters away. “jinh—!” you start, and then stop. yelling an idol’s name in public is most definitely not a good idea.

you’ve never been the most active, but you run after him anyway. thankfully, he’s not making an effort to run away from you, because you wouldn’t be able to catch up with him then.

eventually, you catch up with him as he’s waiting for a pedestrian walkway to turn green. “jinhwan-ssi!” you call, furtively, and the man in question turns around to face you.

" ______.” he says, curiously. “what are you doing here?”

“you paid for my meal.” you state, and he looks at you like it’s obvious.

“yes, i did.” he says, frowning a little. the pedestrian walkway turns green. he doesn’t make any effort to move.

“can i pay you back?” you ask, hand instinctively going towards your wallet in your right pocket.

he laughs a little at that. “why would you pay me back? this is my thank you for the favours you did for me.”

“you don’t have to pay me back! i did those things because i could. besides, a vending machine drink and a pain-relief patch costs much less than a meal.” you argue.

“then, consider it like i’m doing this because i can.” he counters, and its very hard to object to your own logic.

“can i at least buy you coffee or something as thanks?” you ask, as the pedestrian walkway turns red once more.

at this, jinhwan pauses, before he sighs. “i have vocal practice in half an hour, so i can’t right now. but—” he continues, seeing the look of disappointment you already knew was on your face, “did you get the receipt from the checkout guy?”

“the what?” you ask, confused.

his face pales. “oh no, did you not take it?” he asks, suddenly looking scared, and you remember mindlessly snatching the receipt from the checkout man’s hands. you clumsily pat through your pockets a little before pulling a slip of paper out from your left pocket. “no, i have it,” you say, holding it up, “but why?”

jinhwan sighs. “turn it over,” he says, and you do.

in pen, a phone number is scribbled over the back of the receipt. “jinhwan,” it says in neatly printed letters next to it, and you fight back the urge to smile. you probably do a terrible job of it, too.

“text me when you’re free, and we can do coffee sometime, yeah?” jinhwan offers. you can’t see his face well because of his mask, but the tips of his ears are red. it’s stupidly endearing.

“i will,” you promise, because how could you say no to that?

the walkway light turns green once again. jinhwan waves as he crosses the street, and you wave as you stay behind. its only after you’re absolutely, positively sure that he’s out of sight that you let yourself grin, burying your too-hot face into your hands.

if you just played your cards right, you have a date with kim jinhwan.

(you text him the very same day, and make plans for coffee the next week.

you treat him to crepe cakes and lattes, and he pouts, claiming that the crepes were too much and now he just has to take you out to make up for it.

before you can tell him that no, it’s fine, it’s your treat, he has movie tickets for two booked and emailed to your account.

you agree to go, but only if you get to buy the popcorn.)

#ikon #jinhwan #kim jinhwan #jay #ikon jinhwan #ikon jay #ikon fanfic #jinhwan fanfic #jinhwan x reader #writing

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fyeah-bangtan7 · 3 years

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SUGA: “This is the only thing I know how to really do”

#bangtan #suga #m:weverse magazine #210731

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melanielocke · 3 years

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Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 17

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

Previous Chapter: Chapter 16

Next Chapter: Chapter 18

Lucie spent the rest of the afternoon in the garden trying to figure out how to do magic. It didn’t help that she had no idea what she was doing or how magic worked and instead she was just trying some methods she remembered from her favorite books. So far, nothing happened. After some time, Jessamine came outside to watch.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

‘Trying to do magic,’ Lucie answered, a little frustrated with her lack of progress. ‘You don’t happen to have any clue how that works?’

Jessamine looked shocked. ‘About magic? Of course not, why would you think such a thing. I’m a good Christian.’

Lucie guessed she should have suspected such a thing. ‘Jess, in all the time that you’ve been here, was I the only one who could see you?’

Jessamine thought for a while.

‘Actually, no,’ she said. ‘There was someone else, years ago. The sister of Mr. Gray. She travelled to the manor shortly after my death, to express her condolences to my family, and she could see me and spoke to me.’

Mr. Gray’s sister… Her mother couldn’t see ghosts, but perhaps she was somehow distantly related to his woman and to Jessamine’s old suitor through her mother. Perhaps that power did travel in families.

‘And was there anything else she could do?’ Lucie asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Jessamine said. ‘Mr. Gray always thought his sister was odd, occupied with things not suitable for a young lady. She rarely came to balls, even if she was old enough to be out and looking for suitors. But he thought discussing what his sister was up to would be inappropriate for the proper ladies present, such as myself.’

‘She must have been a witch too then,’ Lucie speculated.

Jessamine looked horrified. ‘Witches don’t really exist, do they? Mr. Gray’s sister was certainly odd, everyone knew that, but I never thought she could be a witch.’

‘Jess, you’re literally a ghost. And I can see you and speak with you, just like Mr. Gray’s sister did. When I’m near you can pick up hair brushes, which you normally can’t.’

‘All this time, you’ve been bewitching me?’ Jessamine asked, her voice small.

‘No, not like that,’ Lucie said. ‘That wasn’t something I did intentionally, and I never forced you into anything. Although I’m thinking maybe I could. Jess, my friend is in danger and I need to save him. Are you willing to help me?’

Jessamine looked reluctant. ‘What will you do to me?’

‘Just test a few things, figure out what I can do,’ Lucie said. ‘I’ve always made you stronger, I have no idea what you could do with my help.’

She looked down, resigned. ‘Alright, Lucie. I will see what I can do. What is it that you ask of me?’

Lucie looked around, and noticed a stick lying on the ground.

‘Can you pick that up?’ she asked, pointing.

Jessamine looked confused, but bent down and picked up the stick, holding it in her hands. Usually, ghosts could pick up things they cared for around her. In Jessamine’s case, hairbrushes and dolls. Lucie didn’t think Jessamine cared much for sticks.

‘That looks odd,’ Thomas, who was sitting in a garden chair next to Alastair, commented. ‘Like you just made the stick float.’

‘Yes,’ Lucie said. ‘But that’s not exactly helpful, is it? Jessamine, can you touch Thomas? Usually you’d pass through him.’

Jessamine dropped the stick and rubbed her hand even if there was no dirt remaining on her ghostly form. She walked over to Thomas, who'd stood up out of his chair, and shook his hand, curtsying politely. Thomas yelped, which indicated that he could feel her. Interesting.

‘Do gentlemen not kiss a lady’s hand anymore?’ Jessamine asked.

Thomas turned red, and lifted his hand up, taking Jessamine’s hand with him, and kissed her. To Lucie, this looked relatively normal, but Thomas couldn’t see Jessamine. This had to be awkward. Jessamine let go of Thomas’ hand.

‘It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir,’ Jessamine said.

Lucie repeated Jessamine’s words to Thomas.

‘Ah, it is a pleasure to meet you too, miss,’ Thomas said, looking over her head instead of at her.

Lucie sometimes wondered if Thomas got neck cramps from having to look down whenever he was talking to other people.

Jessamine let go of Thomas’ hand. ‘In my day, the gentlemen certainly had better manners,’ she snorted.

Lucie started laughing. ‘Jessamine is not impressed by your manners, Tom,’ she said.

Thomas turned an even deeper red. ‘I am terribly sorry, miss, that my manners are not up to your standard. Wait, is she still there?’

Jessamine scoffed. ‘I’ll never understand the gentlemen of this century. If you can call them that. People are so contradictory. I always felt like public displays of affection are frowned upon nowadays, especially between gentlemen, even if they are very close friends. But your two gentlemen seem to be very affectionate and improper with each other.’

Lucie started laughing. She suspected Jessamine had seen Alastair and Thomas kiss each other the other day, she’d seemed very shocked by it, but Lucie didn’t realize she’d interpreted them as having a very intimate friendship. Some decades before Jessamine lived, such a thing had been more normalized though, known as the romantic friendship. Although Lucie suspected at least some of those “romantic friendships” were really concealed gay relationships. ‘Oh no, that is not considered normal in this day, but Alastair and Thomas are not simply close friends.’

Jessamine looked absolutely horrified and Lucie decided to change the subject. She did not feel like discussing sexuality with a ghost from the Victorian era, she didn’t think that conversation would end without anyone getting hurt or offended.

‘What did she say?’ Thomas asked.

‘Jess is very confused about the gentlemen of this day. Usually they are not so affectionate towards each other as you are with Alastair,’ Lucie summarized.

‘I,’ Alastair announced, ‘am very glad to live in this day and age and not whatever century this lady must have been from.’

Lucie could imagine, the modern day might still be a mess but she would certainly prefer it over being a 19thcentury lady. She imagined she would have married young, a gentleman she’d thought she was fond of, but didn’t really feel romantic attraction to, and then she’d be trapped. That wouldn’t happen to her main character Eloise though. Eloise and Mabel would find a way, although of course writing a story about a sapphic couple in the 19th century had its limitations in their happy ending.

‘So Jess can touch objects and people who don’t see her,’ Lucie continued. ‘Anyone has any other ideas?’

‘Could you make her visible to us?’ Alastair asked.

‘Jess, show yourself,’ Lucie said.

Jessamine frowned. ‘I don’t know how to do that.’

Nothing happened, at least not that Lucie could tell.

‘She looks a lot like I pictured her,’ Thomas said.

‘I thought her hair would be darker,’ Alastair commented. ‘I don’t think bleach for hair existed back then, and I’m pretty sure no one has hair that’s naturally this light.’

‘I think it depends on where you’re from,’ Thomas said. ‘Light blonde hair is more common in Northern Europe.’

Cordelia snorted. ‘Just because you used to bleach your hair, does not mean everyone who is blonde does the same.’

Thomas frowned. ‘You bleached your hair?’

‘I dyed it back to black, and it’s mostly grown out now,’ Alastair said. ‘It was too much effort to maintain, I had to touch up the roots every four weeks. It looked good though.’

‘It did not look good,’ Cordelia commented. ‘He looked like a turnip.’

Lucie’s eyes went wide. It worked. They were seeing Jessamine. Lucie was feeling a little faint, but did not let it distract her.

‘Come on, pay attention. You’re looking at a ghost for the first time in your life, isn’t that more interesting than Alastair’s hair?’ Lucie shouted.

‘Almost,’ Thomas said. ‘Have you seen Alastair’s hair?’

Alastair rolled his eyes. ‘Let’s pay attention to the ghost. Alright, blonde people are real. And her dress is very nice, I always liked the bustle style.’

‘You can see me?’ Jessamine’s smile lit up. ‘Oh this wonderful. It is such a long time since a gentleman has been able to see me. And it is a lovely dress, I had it made when I visited Paris with my mama.’

She pronounced Paris the way the French did. Lucie knew Jessamine loved to talk about her gowns, although she wasn’t fond of modern clothes. She wore a green day dress with a bustle, something Lucie imagined was a bit unpractical. So many layers. Not to mention the corset.

Alastair looked up thoughtfully. ‘How long do you imagine she’ll stay visible, Lucie?’ he asked. ‘What about if you step away from here? Go inside?’

Lucie took several steps away from Jessamine, taking hold of the door to open it.

‘She’s gone,’ Thomas said.

Lucie turned around and walked to Jessamine. ‘What about now?’ she asked.

‘Nothing,’ Cordelia said. ‘I think once she disappears, you need to ask her to become visible again.’

‘Show yourself,’ Lucie repeated.

‘There she is,’ Alastair said. ‘She looks surprisingly human. I always thought ghosts would be more transparent like in movies.’

‘If they were, do you think I would have mistaken ghosts for living people?’ Lucie asked. ‘If you look carefully, ghosts have a bit of a shimmer but beyond that they look just like people.’

‘Living people, that is,’ Jessamine said. ‘I consider myself a person still, thank you very much.’

‘Of course you are a person,’ Thomas confirmed, indicating that he could hear as well as see her. ‘It is odd to think you’ve been here for such a long time, and always invisible.’

‘It has been very difficult,’ Jessamine said. ‘For a long time, no one could see me until Lucie came here. And modern times are so confusing. Why do ladies wear clothes that reveal their ankles at all times? Worse, the knees? In my day, the occasional ankle slip was to be expected, of course, but visibility of the calves and knees was unheard of. Have people lost all sense of propriety?’

‘Because it’s more practical to not wear floor length dresses all the time,’ Lucie said. ‘Also, no one cares about ankles nowadays. Or knees.’

Lucie did like wearing dresses and skirts, but didn’t like them too long. She was short and therefore the hem always dragged over the ground, which meant she either tripped over the skirt or got it dirty when she wore it outside.

‘But it’s so improper,’ Jessamine insisted, horrified. ‘How could people just stop caring about such things? If this continues, it will not be long until humans go out with no clothes at all and society will fall into chaos.’

‘Now that is generally frowned upon,’ Alastair said. ‘I do not expect that to happen anytime soon.’

‘It would be uncomfortable,’ Cordelia added. ‘And also very cold. The point of clothes is to stay warm.’

‘Does anyone have an idea on how to open a gateway to the land in between?’ Lucie asked. ‘Because that is different from what I can ask of ghosts.’

Cordelia frowned. ‘Maybe you could ask Jessamine.’

‘Jess, can you open a gateway to the land in between for me?’ Lucie asked.

Jessamine frowned. ‘I’m sorry, I do not understand what you ask of me.’

That wasn’t it, then. Lucie guessed opening the gateway was something she’d have to do herself. Making Jessamine visible, that was also something she did, she commanded it and Jessamine could not do it without her. Then perhaps it was about commanding.

‘Or you could ask for a gateway,’ Thomas suggested.

‘Like, open sesame?’ Lucie asked.

‘Be specific,’ Alastair added. ‘What is it that you want to happen? Perhaps Thomas is right, perhaps all you have to do is ask.’

Lucie tried to remember what Grace said, that her magic was dark magic. Perhaps she needed to ask the darkness, or shadows, or something like it? Grace had hinted at this too. Careful what you wish, you just might get it.

‘Darkness, open a gateway to the land in between that is only open to myself, Thomas Lightwood, and Alastair and Cordelia Carstairs,’ Lucie said, remembering to be detailed. Perhaps that was what Grace had warned her about, that what she asked for would happen but not the way she’d intended. ‘A gateway that will not close until all four of us made it back safely to our world.’

It didn’t look like a gateway exactly. There was just a hint of shadow, and when it touched Lucie her friends disappeared. There were no ruins here, the change was subtle beyond her friends being gone. The air was just a touch darker, the breeze a little colder. Some of the color had faded, the grass was a bit duller. There was a fog hovering above the ground. The house was still there, but from here she should be able to see her father’s car and that was gone.

Cordelia, Thomas and Alastair appeared beside her, Cordelia with cortana in hand.

‘I don’t see any ruins,’ Thomas commented.

‘I think the land in between is layered over our land,’ Lucie said. ‘So perhaps to find those ruins, I need to open a portal around where the ruins are. Or I guess we could walk there, but then we’d leave a portal open here and we’d have to walk all the way back once we find it in this world.’

‘I imagine you could open another portal,’ Alastair said. ‘But finding the place the ruins should be in our world and then opening a portal is likely safer. Come, we should get back. This place doesn’t feel right.’

Alastair had a point. Lucie looked around to the way back. In their own world, the gateway looked like a shadow. Here it was a ray of light in an otherwise dark and gloomy environment. She watched her friends step into the light and disappear and then Lucie followed.

The four of them were back in the normal world, her parents both in the garden, concerned. The gate of darkness disappeared behind her. Lucie had asked it not to close until all of them were back, she guessed on its own it didn’t stay open for long and would close if she didn’t stop it. She made a mental note of that, she didn’t want to have to open another portal while they were being attacked by something. The portal closing behind her while all four of them were back was a good way to make sure nothing else came through.

She was feeling a bit more faint than before, light headed. She should have expected using magic would come at a price, but perhaps it was like exercise and she could improve her magic stamina.

‘Where did you just come from?’ Tessa asked.

Lucie looked around for help, but figured since this was her power she was to explain it. She started with Grace visiting again, with her telling her that she had more power than she knew and that she could open a gate.

‘I figured out how to do it,’ Lucie concluded. ‘So we can go into the woods and find Grace’ skin.’

‘Are you sure you don’t want us to come along?’ Will asked.

Lucie considered it, but it was a long time since her father had fought anything and her mother had barely any experience. It wouldn’t be safer with them there. Cordelia had a sword, Lucie was the only one who could open the gateway, and Grace seemed under the impression that it was also necessary for Alastair to come, that his memory would be essential. At least one person with the sight would also be useful.

‘I think it’s better if you didn’t,’ Lucie said. ‘But there’s something else you could do in the meantime. According to Cordelia and Alastair, their father has lots of notebooks from their ancestors, and one must have described a witch similar to me. Perhaps you could call Elias, or uncle Jem, and ask for them.’

Will frowned. ‘Do you think Elias would help us now? He was so opposed to Cordelia coming here with us before.’

Cordelia hadn’t been allowed to come at first, but then her mother had moved out and taken her children with her and her father couldn’t stop her anymore. Sona had decided it would be good for both her children to have some time away and had encouraged them to go. Lucie agreed it was unlikely Elias would be any help on his own accord. She couldn’t say she understood him or his relationship with his children well, all she knew was the damage it had done to Alastair and Cordelia.

‘Father does listen to Jem at times,’ Alastair said stiffly. ‘I think perhaps he could reason with him.’

‘I’ve been meaning to call Jem anyway,’ Will said. ‘If you do not return before dinner, we will come looking for you.’

‘I could leave the gate open for you,’ Lucie said. ‘But we cannot be sure about the time. It doesn’t run the same way, we could spend only a couple of hours there and we’d be missing for a whole day. We cannot keep track of time in there.’

‘Dinnertime,’ Will repeated. ‘I won’t blame you if you’re not back, but we will come looking.’

‘Perhaps we should go tomorrow,’ Alastair suggested and Lucie wondered if maybe after this morning, he did not feel up for it and needed rest. ‘I think it is unlikely we will finish before that time, and if we go tomorrow early in the morning, it is far more likely we can finish before dinnertime.’

Lucie had to admit his line of reasoning had merit, even if she was impatient to get out there. Besides, that gave her time to practice. Cordelia returned to her practice with cortana, whereas Lucie tried asking the darkness for other favors. She practiced opening and closing gate. The gateways all worked and did what she asked of them, but it was tiring though. After four more gates Lucie collapsed onto a garden chair and took to watching Cordelia practice, too tired to get up. Perhaps Alastair had a point in postponing going for the skin, and she imagined even if he was feeling better now that he was exhausted after this morning. She’d had a break down on a rare occasion, autism and stubbornness didn’t always go well together, but never as bad as Alastair had. She knew how exhausting it could be.

Cordelia’s stamina had to be a lot better than Lucie’s, because she kept going for a long time and didn’t seem to get tired. She certainly had a weak spot for girls with swords, and Lucie made a note to use that in one of her novels. Cordelia had tied back her dark red hair in a high ponytail, and was wearing a wide shirt tucked into a pair of jean shorts, something a bit more practical than Lucie’s yellow jumpsuit. Well, it was comfortable to walk around in, but a struggle to go to the bathroom. Cordelia had begun to break a sweat, a few drips on her forehead, but that didn’t stop her. Perhaps later she’d want to go swimming to cool down. Thinking of water, Lucie realized she hadn’t drunk anything in a while. And considering Cordelia had been training for some time, she had to be dehydrated.

‘Do you want something to drink?’ Lucie asked.

‘I could use a glass of water,’ Cordelia said. ‘I always forget to drink when I’m training.’

Fortunately, Lucie was there to make sure Cordelia drank enough water. She tended to forget herself too, especially when she was busy writing. Sometimes she’d complain of a headache, only to realize she hadn’t drunk anything since breakfast.

She went inside to find Alastair and Thomas were about to leave, both carrying a bag.

‘Where are you going?’ Lucie asked.

‘Just to the lake,’ Thomas said. ‘We won’t go too far into the lake, but it’s getting too warm pretty much everywhere. Maybe you and Cordelia can join us later when you’re done training.’

‘I’ll ask Cordelia,’ Lucie promised. ‘Have fun, in the meantime.’

She returned outside with two glasses of water, putting one on the table.

‘The boys have gone swimming,’ Lucie said. ‘Thomas said we were welcome to join once we’re done.’

‘Sure,’ Cordelia said. ‘Just let me finish.’

Cordelia went through a few more repeats of her training, and then transformed cortana back into its necklace form.

‘I get tired a lot sooner than you,’ Lucie admitted.

‘I can’t do magic,’ Cordelia said. ‘I have no idea how exhausting opening or closing a gateway is. I imagine it is a lot more work than simply swinging a sword.’

Lucie guessed perhaps that was true, magic ought to have some limitations. If not, then how could Cordelia’s ancestor have defeated the witch from Grace’ story? ‘I’m curious what else I can do. Grace said something about controlling the dead and making them fight, but that seems a bit unethical. Jessamine isn’t a fighter, and I’d never make her fight something on my behalf.’

‘It depends on the situation, I guess,’ Cordelia said. ‘We don’t know what it takes to stop Tatiana and save Thomas.’

‘No, but I do need to draw moral lines for myself,’ Lucie said. ‘I feel bad for that witch from the story, and I don’t want to end up like her. I don’t want us to become enemies.’

Cordelia took her hand. ‘I’ll never become your enemy, Lu.’

‘Then I guess I’ll have to stay on the safe side of that ethical line. I know how easy it can be, to have the end justify the means, but that’s something I’d rather save for my stories.’

#Lucie Herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Alastair Carstairs #Jessamine Lovelace #Lucelia #Thomastair #fanfiction #the last hours #tlh

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thewildwaffle · 4 years

Text

Haunted Houses

“You know the translators don’t work for written word right?” Danro grunted, eyeing the small tablet screen his human companion held out to him. It was displaying several small human glyphs.

“It’s just a waiver saying you’re okay with coming in, and that if you have any bad effects from the flashing lights or spooky stuff they use, you can’t sue them because you chose to be here willingly, blah blah blah.” Human Addy again held up the tablet. “Basically it’s just the legal-ese version of everything we talked about earlier. I can read through it for you if you really want.”

Danro let out a growling hum. “Just look through it and make sure there’s nothing in there that wasn’t what you told me earlier.”

“No prob.” Addy pulled the waiver back and scanned over it quickly, mumbling to herself under her breath as she read. Danro looked at the human working behind the check-in counter who was doing their best to not be obvious that they were gawking at him. Not that that bothered him or anything. Standing head and shoulders above most other humans and covered in long light brown and white fur, he certainly stood out from the gathered crowd.

“We’re good to go, everything checks out!” Addy declared, handing the tablet and stylus to Danro. “You just need to write a signature at the bottom and we can go in.”

“But I don’t know how to write in your language,” Danro glanced dubiously at the screen.

“Just take it,” Addy pushed the stylus into his large hands, “You can write in your language, it doesn’t matter.”

Danro doubted that. He sighed. Humans and their contracts. They were obsessed with them, and honestly, the more he got to know of their race, the more he started to understand why. Humans, for all their ingenuity and seemingly lovable natures, could be quite underhanded. They could think their way around and through most obstacles, especially when those obstacles were well-established but loosely-defined rules and expectations. Many a treaty or trade agreement had been swung wildly in favor of the party consisting of or including humans. It was like they lived for loopholes and variable interpretations. Intersystem lawyers have been scrambling to learn from and replicate the style humans wrote contracts. After all, only a human contract could (at least somewhat) confidently bind a human.

He scribbled his name in his own familiar letters, figuring that would have to be good enough. He trusted Addy when she said it was just a liability waiver after all. She had already signed one herself. After handing the tablet and stylus back to the kid working the booth, they were off.

As they walked around the entrance gate, Danro’s mind immediately went into overdrive trying to take in and process the scenery. The surrounding buildings creating the quad the event was hosted in were lit up with orange, purple, and green lights. Queues of patrons stretched along the concrete sidewalks that ran between buildings. They were watching costumed dancers in the middle of the quad as they waited to enter the “haunted” buildings. What looked like old metal trash cans had fires lit inside them with small crowds of humans and the occasional alien figure huddled around them. There were smaller lines in front of a few trailers and booths that looked like they were selling very aromatic foods and drinks.

An approaching figure caught Danro’s eye. It was almost as tall as him, draped in a raggedy shawl, and had a grotesquely disfigured face with lacerations running from the top of its head and across one eye. Danro sniffed. He saw blood, but he didn’t smell it. This must be a human actor in a costume, something Addy had warned him of beforehand. They were likely wearing stilts as they were almost eye level to him.

“My my my, what have we here!” The actor’s voice was both screechy and gravely, a combination that made Danro’s fur prickle slightly. "I've seen many a ghost and ghoul in these mansions, but I've yet to encounter any of the likes of you two." They made an exaggerated show of looking between Danro and Addy, as if sizing them up. “What do I call you two apparitions?”

Addy gave a small chuckled and gestured to herself. “I’m Addy, I’m a human. And this is Danro, he’s a kexi biet.”

“Mortals?!” The mask wobbled a bit as the actor stepped back dramatically and then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “I’d keep that information to yourselves while you’re here. Who knows what lurking terror might overhear and decide to snack on your bones!”

Danro smiled indulgently at the costumed human. They were certainly well in character.

“We’ll be sure to not mention it again,” he nodded.

“Be sure that you don’t!” the mask rose up so that the fake, glossy eyes were almost level with his own. “You are a brave biet, Danro. Brave, or perhaps foolish. I do hope you and your small companion survive. Come.” They turned and led them towards the center of the quad. They paused and waited for them to catch up next to one of the trash can fires. “Have either of you been here before?”

Addy nodded, “Yeah but it’s been YEARS.” Danro shook his head.

“What a treat, then.” They pointed to one of the closer buildings with a purple light out front. Danro noticed that the actor’s costume was detailed down to the largely uneven stitches on their sleeves. It gave their arm an odd shape. Or at least, he hoped the odd shape of their arm was just part of the costume.

“Each of these buildings is haunted, some more than others. They are color-coded by the lights of how ‘dangerous’ they are.”

“So is that one the safest?” Addy dipped her head to the building being pointed to.

Their guide only laughed ominously. “Present your passes to the attendants by the door. No running, no pushing, no flashlights or video, no explicit language as it disturbs our… residents, and keep your hands to yourself if you’d like to keep your hands.”

And without another word, their guide ambled off. Addy shuffled a little closer to the fire and grinned at Danro.

“Alrighty then! Which one do you want to do first?”

Danro looked around at the quad. The dancers finished their song and were now walking and milling away to tents to warm up or rest, smallish humans were carefully nibbling on a pink puffy food on a stick that looked suspiciously like hair. The buildings themselves loomed around them, lit by their colored lights and the flickering fires around the quad. Their boarded up windows gave no indication of what was inside, although they couldn’t quite muffle the occasional scream from within.

“I’d prefer it if we could find the one that’s the mildest first,” Danro admitted. “Kind of ease myself into this, if you will.”

“No worries, bud.” Addy started towards the building with the green lights. “I think that would be this one. Green usually means easy, or mild, or good or whatever.”

That’s not what green was usually associated with on his planet, but hey, trying to scare yourself as a method of amusement and recreation wasn’t really a thing back home either. This was all very new to him.

The line in front of the green building moved pretty quickly. As they approached the front, Addy put a hand on his arm and looked up at him.

“Hey, thanks again for coming. These things aren’t nearly as much fun alone.”

Danro smiled. “Thank you for the invite.” Addy had invited a few more from their crew once she knew they’d be planetside on Earth just before what she claimed was one of her favorite holidays. He had been the only one to accept. A few others had gone to a “corn maze” with another human from the crew. Apparently, it wasn’t “haunted” and so appealed to more crewmates. Danro accepted the invitation because it saddened him to think of Addy going somewhere scary alone. That, and afterward it would be known across the ship of how much more brave he was than those who were too afraid to come.

The attendants at the door reminded them of the rules, marked their passes, and opened the doors for them.

Once inside, the doors shut noisily and Danro could feel the confidence he’d held on to outside drip away. His senses were being thrown off in here. The lights were dim, which isn’t too bad, he didn’t have great night vision, but it was alright. But there was something wrong here. He couldn’t tell why, but he could feel it. As Addy started down a narrow corridor covered with cobwebs, he took a deep breath and told himself it was just his nerves. Or maybe, he thought as they continued down the winding corridor, it was all this smoke stuff. It wasn’t real smoke, it smelled different, like minerals instead of burned materials. That was also throwing him off. The first time he saw an amputated human arm dangling out of a bag, he nearly freaked out. It was only when they passed right by it that he realized he didn’t actually smell any blood. He clutched Addy’s shoulder ahead of him as they walked by.

Danro muttered to himself. “It’s not a real arm. It’s not real. It’s not real.” He was really just saying it to himself, but from the way Addy looked back and up at him, he knew she must have heard him.

The next room was divided by a series of ripped and filthy “curtains.” As soon as they entered, Danro growled. The lights here were flashing strobe lights, making it difficult to see. There were human-sized figures standing in the room. As they passed by, he realized they weren’t human, but some sort of mannequins. Good, he sighed. Some of them looked grotesquely mangled and mortally wounded. He was glad they weren’t actual humans. As they were deep into the large room, his heart nearly stopped as he realized that some of them were moving. No, he thought, no, it had to just be a trick of the strobe lights.

Near the exit of the room, one definitely moved. The figure jumped out at them with a gravely yell. Addy screamed and jumped back. Danro froze momentarily and had to remind himself to not attack. They weren’t in danger. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t-

Addy scampered through the exit without him. Danro did his best to maneuver after her. The figure that had scared them stared at him with white eyes. That… that’s not normal. Humans have colorful and/or dark eyes. They smiled at him, baring their teeth. Even when normal humans smiled like that, Danro found it disconcerting, but this was on a whole different level. This felt genuinely dangerous.

Addy was waiting for him in the next room.

“Sorry,” she panted. “Didn’t mean to leave you behind back there.”

“Their eyes,” he whispered loudly to her, as if worried they’d overhear and come after them from their room.

“I didn’t even see their eyes. Were they creepy?”

Danro nodded.

Addy smiled, without baring her teeth, Danro noted appreciatively. “This place has really stepped up their game since the last time I was here.”

They continued through, warily watching out for hiding figures, walking through narrow maze-like halls, over uncomfortably soft and uneven ground, and through a tunnel where the walls looked like they were spinning around them. He nearly lost his balance off the walkway. He could have sworn the ground was moving. Even after they passed through that and went up a flight of stairs, he could still feel the dizzying effects. Coupled with his sense of sight and smell being confused around nearly every turn, he was starting to feel the tendrils of dread creeping into his mind. As they rounded a turn, he immediately noticed a dark figure moving in the corner. They looked like they were climbing the walls. After a few heartbeats of analyzing its movements, he realized it was mechanical. Good, it was just a prop then. As they walked through the room, bright lights strobed and the figure on the walls flew at them. Addy screamed again and ran to the door. Danro jumped up and fell back on the ground. The figure jerked to a stop in the air a pace or two away, and slowly retracted back to the wall. As Danro scrambled back up to his feet, he noticed the folding metal lattice mechanics that moved the dark creature. As terrified as he was, he had to admit that that was quite a creative scare.

There were several other rooms they walked through with no actors inside, just creepy dolls and mannequins or unsettling objects that made Danro’s fur prickle. There was a long hall with poor lighting and a very low ceiling that even Addy had to duck to get through.

“I hope nothing tries to scare us in here,” Danro muttered as he squeezed through the narrow passageway. “I don’t think I’d be able to get away very fast.” “I don’t think there’s anything in here. Or at least there wasn’t when I came through here when I was in high school. I think this part’s mostly “scary” because it’s supposed to make you feel claustrophobic.”

Danro scanned the bare cinder block and exposed dim light bulbs along the narrow passageway. Well, he thought, it was certainly claustrophobic in here. He could feel his heart rate increase the longer they walked through here and was incredibly relieved when they reached the end. Addy helped him watch his step as he climbed down from the small exit and into the dim cellar-like room.

"Are you okay?" She carefully brushed some fake cobwebs from the fur on his arms.

“I’m fine. There aren’t any more small tunnels like that though, are there?” Danro, much like many biets, did not enjoy tight spaces.

“I think there’s another one in one of the other buildings, but it’s nowhere near as constrictive as that, or as long.” She looked up at him with a concerned expression. “Is that alright? You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Danro smiled and nodded. “I’ll be fine. I got through this so far, I can handle it. Plus, it’s more fun to do these things together, right?”

Addy’s smile was worth any fright this place could throw at him anyway.

They pressed on and got a few more screams out of Addy and a few more alarmed jumps from Danro. As they rounded another corner and entered another dark room, Danro paused, senses alert to the scene before them. Something felt off, though he couldn’t place the reason why. His fur stood on end and he swore he could see his and Addy’s breath. He could see places where actors were likely hiding in wait to scare them, but that wasn’t where his attention was focused. There was something different about this room and it made his heart rate skyrocket.

He thought he saw movement in the corner of his vision, but when he turned his focus there, expecting to see an actor sneaking towards them, there was nothing. Addy slowly crept deeper into the dark room ahead of him. Not wanting to be separated in a place like this, he tried to stay close. Halfway through the room though, he froze. Did he really see… he swore mentally. Was that a chirnu? What was a thing like that doing in a human attraction? What was it doing here at all? It had no right, no right to exist outside biet folklore and nightmares. The living shadow, or the fang of the shadows, depending on who was telling the story. Danro closed his eyes instinctively. Don’t look at it. Don’t look at it and it might not look at you.

“Danro,” Addy whispered, realizing she no longer felt his hairy bulk behind her.

He said nothing but willed her to remain quiet. The chirnu might hear her if it hadn’t already.

“Danro, we’re almost at the end, just a little further.” She reached back to put a hand on his arm.

A loud shriek and rush of movement made them both jump. Danro swept Addy into his arms and ran. To gadring with the rules! He ran! He could hear laughter behind him and taunting voices that may or may not have been human, at this point he didn’t know nor care. He could smell fresh air ahead and it seemed to be like a beacon of hope to him.

“Danro!” Addy cried out but was cut off by a loud growl to their left. A figure jumped out from the shadows, donned in a ripped cloak, and holding a weapon that Danro later realized was a human tool used for cutting lumber.

How the heck had this maniac gotten in here with that?! Danro dodged to the right. Addy screamed and held on so tightly to Danro’s fur that she might have pulled a few tufts loose. The maniac with the saw laughed and gave chase.

This was a mistake! This was a mistake! This was a mistake!

Maybe if he could just make it outside where the crowds were, they could lose their pursuer. Surely he wouldn’t give chase into public?

Danro barreled through the final door and out into the chilly air outside. Relief! The roar of the saw was still right behind, and so he kept up with his pace. Thankfully, their pursuer didn’t seem to be able to keep up and eventually stopped a ways outside the door to laugh and Danro and Addy ran around the corner of the building and back to the crowded quad area.

Once he was absolutely sure they were no longer being followed, he stopped only long enough to set Addy back on the ground before he started again for the main entrance.

“Hey! Wait, where are you going?” Addy bounded after him.

“We need to let someone know. They need to be warned before someone gets killed!”

“What? Wait, do you- do you mean the chainsaw guy?” Addy was now at his side, but struggling to keep up. “That’s just part of the whole thing, it’s a classic end to a haunted house. There’s no actual chain or blade or whatever, it’s safe.”

Danro slowed and turned to face Addy. He studied her face. She was smiling and didn’t seem at all worried that they had almost been killed by a psycho with a “chain saw.” He took a few deep breaths to slow his heart down. “It’s not real? We’re fine?” He finally managed to ask.

Addy smiled and nodded. “We’re fine. So, first time through a haunted house, what did you think?” Danro looked back to the building they had just run out of. He stared hard at it, trying to make sense of the whole experience. Or mostly, trying to make sense of what he had seen in that last room. Had he really seen what he thought he saw?

“Danro? Are you okay?” Addy’s worried tone snapped him back.

“I thought…” he was almost embarrassed to ask now. Admitting that he had seen what would be to her an alien monster, a mythical alien monster at that, seemed to be a bit laughable now that they were back in the safety of the quad. Addy continued to look at him though, expecting him to finish his thought.

“I thought I saw… a chirnu in there in that last room,” he admitted quietly.

Addy blinked. “Chirnu? What’s that?”

He grimaced. It was said that talking about them could help them hunt you down later. As briefly as he could, he described the monster that terrorized biet folklore.

Addy listened intently and nodded. When he was done, she hummed. “That does sound pretty bad. But I’m pretty sure we’re okay. I don’t think what you saw in there was a chirnu.”

Relief flooded Danro’s system. He felt silly even entertaining the idea that chirinu were for one thing, real, and another thing, here on Earth. Although, that did leave one question.

“Then what did I see?”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure. That last room was definitely creepier than the others. I think it’s genuinely haunted.” Danro tilted his head and Addy laughed. “Although if I had to venture a guess, from your description I’d say it was probably a giant rubber spider. That room did kind of have a spider theme if you didn’t notice.” “Spider theme?”

“Yeah, I think the whole building kind of had a “phobia” theme to it. Arachnophobia is the fear of spiders. Lots of people have it. I just didn’t know biets had it too.”

Danro straightened his back in mock indignation. “I’m not afraid of spiders.”

Addy laughed. “Okay, then you were just pretending back there?”

Danro frowned, but the human’s happy energy was too much and he eventually cracked and smiled back. He looked around at the other patrons, mostly humans, who were waiting anxiously in line. They came to be scared. They wanted to be scared. How odd. And yet, Danro could feel himself still riding the high of his fight or flight senses. From what he understood, humans experienced a similar feeling, heightened by the production of a hormone called adrenaline. He could see how places like this might seem attractive to those seeking that rush.

“Well,” he responded airily, “I thought the whole point was to pretend to be scared.”

Addy laughed and teased. He teased back, recalling and imitating her many screams. They continued doing so while they waited in line to buy a bag of what Addy called “popcorn” and two caramel covered apples. Addy said they were some of her favorites, and caramel apples were a fall tradition. Danro enjoyed both. He smiled as he listened to Addy continue on about things she loved about the season and upcoming holiday before they went to wait in line for the building with the orange light.

That night became, quite possibly, one of his fondest memories. Humans are weird. They think getting scared on purpose is fun. Maybe Danro was a bit weird too because he whole-heartedly agreed.

#stay spooky #halloween #humans are weird #aliens #humans are space orcs #haunted #writeblr

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adito-lang · 3 years

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Hey!

I was wondering, how did you go about it when you first started learning Japanese? Bc I’m a super beginner and I’m getting a bit overwhelmed. Also if you have any resource recommendations I’d be thankful.

Have a nice day

Hey! Ohh how exciting that you’re starting out with Japanese! I completely understand that it can feel overwhelming, so I'll try my best not to overwhelm you more with my response 😆 The following methods have worked very well for me, but you might have different needs and a different learning style.

Several years ago, I took two semesters of Japanese at university, so at that time I was learning the traditional way with a textbook and workbook. I’ve used both Minna no Nihongo and Genki and I preferred Minna no Nihongo because it doesn’t rely on English for explanations like Genki does.

But to be honest, most of what I've learned has been through self-study using other resources, speaking with Japanese friends and using Japanese to experience things love.

Can you read and write hiragana and katakana? In my opinion, learning them (more so hiragana) is a crucial first step in learning Japanese. I would recommend getting started with Tae Kim’s Japanese Grammar Guide to learn basic sentence structures/patterns, functions of particles, verb bases and endings, etc. It also has a section on the Japanese writing system.

Building on that, another resource that I personally love is Verbs and Essentials of Japanese Grammar because it’s so well-structured. You learn which endings are attached to which verb bases (there are seven) and what meanings these endings give the verb. I’m going to make a separate post about the verb bases and provide examples of endings for each base.

Also, I love picture dictionaries! You can find an online Japanese picture dictionary in hiragana here. While on the topic of learning vocabulary (especially verbs), I recommend writing down example sentences or chunks for each new vocabulary term, since many Japanese words have multiple meanings/nuances. I use the 英辞郎 online dictionary precisely for this reason.

In my opinion, recognizing kanji is more important than actively writing them, but learning how to write radicals (the building blocks of kanji) and basic stroke order is useful for when you need to look up kanji! Here’s an overview of how to use a kanji dictionary.

Grammar and vocabulary aside, what hobbies or interests do you have that you could combine with Japanese? Ghibli aside, I have never been into manga or anime, but a lot of people learning Japanese enjoy it. As for me, I’ve been a huge fan of figure skating for many years, and figure skating is HUGE in Japan, so I would watch Japanese broadcasts of competitions, listen to and read interviews with Japanese figure skaters, dream about marrying Daisuke Takahashi rant about figure skating with Japanese friends, etc.

Listen to a lot of spoken Japanese, even if you can’t understand very much - movies, podcasts, the news, Japanese Youtubers, ASMR (here’s a post listing some Japanese ASMRtists I like)... and music!!! Find songs in Japanese you like (of course I can help with that 😉 ) and let out your inner karaoke diva. I always loved looking up translations for lyrics and highlighting new vocabulary. As you progress you can practice translating yourself.

And practice speaking from the start, even if it’s just speaking to yourself. Talk about your day, things you like, list everything you can see in a room, give yourself directions to school/uni/work, etc.

Sorry that this turned into a somewhat incoherent rant... you can always let me know if you have questions or are looking for more resources. I hope that above all you have fun experiencing this beautiful language and its culture little by little ❤️

How about all of the people reading this? Any recommendations and resources (especially for kanji practice) for beginners that you’d like to share?

#asks #japanese #resources

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yellowocaballero · 4 years

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Bonus from Human Relations (Jello Salad, NASA, and Epic Jon Bitchery)

Short little thing thumped out in an hour last night. I was challenged to write a genuine argument and Elias eating Jello Salad. I succeeded in one of those things.

TW for discussions of, as you can probably expect, 1950s racism and maladaptive relationships

“Reservation for…”

The host stared at Jon blankly. Jon silently struggled.

“Reservation for Jo - uh...John? No…”

“Perhaps you are in the wrong restaurant,” the host hinted, somewhat forcefully.

“No, I’m quite confident I’m at the right place. Hold on.” Jon struggled with his briefcase, withdrawing an invitation scribbled on stationary paper. A large, embossed header at the top read in sprawling letters US DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE, and the host blanched. Jon quickly scanned the paper, taking a minute to translate his own shorthand before brightening. “Ah! Yes, Salle du Bois, at seven pm, March 2nd. With...yes, a Sir James Wright.” Jon folded the paper one-handedly and stuck it into his jacket pocket. He smiled brightly at the flummoxed host. “Well? Will no one take my coat?”

“Reservation for…”

The host stared at Jon blankly. Jon silently struggled.

“Reservation for Jo - uh...John? No…”

“Perhaps you are in the wrong restaurant,” the host hinted, somewhat forcefully.

The name must have been familiar, carrying its own power - honestly, a peerage, man was annoying every time - because a waiter appeared from nowhere very quickly to take Jon’s hat, coat, and briefcase. Jon took the opportunity to straighten his fine suit and tie, and glance around the room.

Part of him couldn’t help but be proud: barely four years ago, it would have been impossible to step foot inside the finest restaurant in Washington, DC. Senators dined on these tables, creating backroom deals and manufacturing methods of state and politics, and Jon had been forced to rely on some creative means to work himself into those deals. These days, it was as simple as walking in through the front door. Of course, the entire room was staring at him extremely pointedly, but that was what the peerage, money, and reputation was for. Jon never much cared if people disliked him - he tended to only concern himself with people who could do something about it.

Everyone of import in Congress knew Jonathan Sims. A whisper on the wind, a knife in the dark: that had been Jon, always. It still was. But now, people looked at him with respect. Everyone did.

Everyone except, of course, the young man sitting at the pristinely white table that the waiter lead him to. Utterly unrecognized, but dimly familiar in the way that the endless parade of Jonah’s bodies always was: a thin, emancipated type of look, in his early twenties, with a thin but healthy comb of blonde hair and light muscle that would soon go unattended under Jonah’s careful attention. Hilariously, he was still short - would that man ever find a body over five feet seven?

Jonah smiled as Jon and the waiter approached, waving aside the waiter’s silent question of if it was really Jon that he had been waiting for. Honestly, the more things changed.

“Jonathan,” Jonah said warmly, “how long has it been?”

“Too long to say in polite company,” Jon said lightly, shaking his hand tightly. He was waiting for public hugs between men to go back in style. He missed it, slightly. “You look...different.”

Of course, Jonah noticeably preened. “I think this one has a nice, strong jaw, don’t you?”

“It’s...the jaw that the English peerage is famous for,” Jon said tactfully, sitting down on a delicate and fine chair. “What brings you to DC, Jonah? Normally you can’t be pried away from London with a crowbar.”

Jonah gleamed a bright white smile at him. “Can’t a man miss his close business partner after so long apart?”

“That would imply you’re capable of human emotion.”

“True, my mistake.”

The waiter appeared, and Jonah ordered something carelessly expensive and good wine as Jonathan carefully ordered a very refined and dignified cut of filet mignon. The wait on the food was short, of course, and Jon and Jonah wasted time by chatting about their business ventures. Jon’s was going extremely well, obviously. Jonah’s was extremely boring and slow, obviously.

“This industry boom is incredible. The technological innovation, the jump forward in progress, the persistent fear that it will all be taken away the minute we step out of the conformist line…” Jon picked up his fork as the plates of steaming and small portions were slid onto their table. “Mark my words, Jonah. 1953 will be our year.”

“My good man,” Jonah said sympathetically, “it’s well into 1957.”

“Years should be longer. Simon agrees with me.” Jon frowned, picking up a fork and cutting into his meat . “We’re investing in Simon and his projects, by the way.”

Jonah smiled over the rim of his wine glass, raising a delicate blonde eyebrow at Jon. “Wonderful of you to make these decisions for us.”

“When you insist on spending all of your time in the crude and backward England, I shall do as I please,” Jon said haughtily, only to see Jonah snicker into his glass. “I’ve been working with him to push his little initiative through Congress.”

“How quickly the prodigal son shuns his motherland.” Jonah ate slowly, never once looking away from Jon. He had never forgotten that tendency of Jonah - to keep his eyes always, always on Jon, as if keeping an eye on a dangerous predator. But in that hooded, dark gaze, a half-smile always tugged at his lips. In his better moments it seemed like fond indulgence; in his worse it appeared closer to a child watching his kitten chase a dangling piece of string. “A decade or two in the land of tomorrow and you’ve adopted a new home country?”

“It is a land of progress,” Jon hissed, jabbing at Jonah with his fork. “England is stagnant, putting on airs of civility and progress when it does little more than languish in its former greatness. Look what happened with the mess in India. What do we have left? A few impoverished African territories? Yemen? We have lost all ambition. The English still fancy themselves the greatest population in the world, when they’re little more than a bombed out shell. At least America had the decency to profit off war.”

“War is fairly pointless if there’s no profit in it,” Jonah agreed mildly. He sipped his wine again delicately. “So you figure that space is the next frontier, then?”

“The pursuit of knowledge is always in our best interest,” Jon said primly. “I was skeptical too, Jonah. But I met this lovely young engineer, a Ms. Johnson, and she’s opened my eyes. NASA is the future, and NASA is here. Only habit keeps you in England, now.”

For the first time, Jonah’s eyes narrowed slightly. “A respect for history is far from a habit, Jonathan. Have some respect.”

“Your history, not mine. And you’re ancient history too,” Jon pointed out. He calmly ate his filet as Jonah sputtered. “Admit it. You’d walk around in the cravat you were buried in if you could.”

“The cravat is dignified. It’s hardly my fault if young men these days flaunt themselves in those dirty blue jeans.” Jonah sneered the word with marked disdain. “I can see their calves.”

Despite himself, Jon smiled into his filet. “Did it give you a case of the vapors?”

Jonah reversed his grip on his fork and held it casually within stabbing distance of Jon’s hand. “Do not get us kicked out of this establishment.”

“Were you forced to recline on your fainting couch with your smelling salts?”

“I have propiety,” Jonah hissed. Hilariously, his new body had the tendency to flush a little, and his ears were noticeably red. For the first time, Jon wished that he owned one of those camera things. “At least I don’t while away my hours with your harlot of a girl.”

Almost immediately, Jonah seemed to recognize that he had gone too far, and Jon was distantly aware that his neon green eyes had taken on a dangerous tint. Jonah leaned back a little from where they both had been unconsciously leaning in, and Jon carefully readied his grip on his steak knife. “Watch how you speak of my wife.”

“Wife?” Jonah crossed his arms, tone dripping with condescension. “When did you marry that gold digger?”

“Thirty years ago,” Jon ground out, and Jonah blanched. “You were there.”

“Ah.” Jonah paused a beat. “Well, you know how time gets away from us.”

“You were my best man.”

“Maybe we can Christmas together!” Jonah said, faux-brightly. “Christmas has become quite popular lately. I can buy her one of those dishwasher things suburban women are always losing their minds in Macy’s about.”

“We have people for that,” Jon said condescendingly. “And we don’t live together, anyway. She’s experiencing the beatnik lifestyle with that little gang she runs around with. I think they write novels.”

Jonah stared at him blankly. “What is a beatnik?”

“I believe they’re similar to bohemians? I don’t understand either.” Jon wiped his mouth with the napkin again, having cleared his plate. He replaced his napkin, carefully keeping the grip on his knife. On the other end of the table, Jonah’s grip on his fork was just as tight. “She expressed no desire to be a politician’s wife, and I have no expectation of her being so.” Jonah snorted - quietly, subtly, but visibly. Jon narrowed his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re always a gas, Jon.” Jonah’s own plate cleared, he flagged a waiter to take their plates away and refill their wine. “A politician’s wife.”

“I am a politician,” Jon said testily.

“Mm-hm.”

“I pushed a large bill limiting freedom of speech just last month.”

“Of course.”

“I’m close, personal friends with Senator McCarthy.” Jon’s grip tightened on his knife until the wood bore into his palm. “Even if it’s in no - no official capacity, I’m making a real impact here. My service to ou - God has been extraordinary. Unlike you.”

There it was - a hit scored, a gauntlet thrown. Jonah narrowed his eyes. “Yes, because doing your job and collecting records for the Institute is a waste of time that has no relevance to God. As opposed to what, Jonathan? Wearing fine suits and putting on your own airs?”

Bright, sparking irritation flashed through Jon’s chest, but it was laced with something more. A hard defensiveness, bared teeth, curling up to prevent a weak belly. “I’m allowed the fine suits, Jonah! I am allowed to have this!”

“They’re just suits, Jon,” Jonah said condescendingly, eyes a mirror of false pity. Always pity, always false, always pretending he was weak, or - or -

“I have fought for everything, and -”

“Oh, not this drivel again.” Jonah wiped his hands on a linen napkin and balled it up, throwing it on the table and leaning back. “Yes, yes, you suffered, whatever.”

“Whatever?”

“You’re so boring. Maybe it’s the nature of Archivists to be incredibly dull. My new man, Angus...whatever, he’s unbearably bland.” A glint of humor shone through his casual airs. “We’d benefit from you.”

“Oh, here it is again,” Jon said, perhaps a bit too loudly. He threw his hands up. “Every time, you harangue me, tell me my work is meaningless, and try to drag me back to your boring and tepid old library -”

“Who are you fooling, Jonathan?” Jonah retorted, also perhaps a bit too loudly. “Nobody but yourself, and you know it! You aren’t a politician. You aren’t anything.” At Jon’s deranged look, Jonah quickly backtracked. “You aren’t anything without God. Everything you have is because of it.” It was something that couldn’t be argued, and Jon huffed out a breath as he untensed. Jonah smiled faintly, lowering his hands as if he was placating Jon. “Not to say that you aren’t doing any good. I’m sure you’re doing the best you can. But aren’t you more interested in being where you can do the most good? In being in the place of your highest productivity, your most effective worship? I understand America is...new, but it’s a dalliance. An infatuation. Which is more meaningful, Jonathan? A summer fling with an attractive woman, or a faithful wife who maintains your home and heart?”

Jon squinted at Jonah. “Georgie doesn’t like maintaining homes.”

“I do not understand your relationship with that woman. She hasn’t even given you any children, for lord’s sake.”

They were both incapable - how could an Avatar of the End give life? - but it was another tasteless thing to say, so Jon glared Jonah into submission over it again. For all Jon constantly heard praise over how impressive and charismatic and charming Jonah was, he was insufferably rude and tactless in reality. “Neither of us are very much in the business of allowing society to tell us how to live our lives. Society will pass, age, and die before we do. Why bow to it?” Jon smiled coyly. “Why bow to anything that ages?”

“You’re lucky you’re useful, you slimy little -”

But Jon just laughed, because he had won: Jonah had raised his voice in righteous anger that echoed across the suddenly deathly quiet restaurant, and the maitre’d was walking towards them very quickly. Jon laughed even longer as the waiter spoke in smooth, ubiquitous, but firm tones to Jonah: do try not to cause a disturbance with your companion, sir, this is a respectable establishment -

“As respectable as you when you cheated on your wife with the housekeeper?” Jonah snarled, and the maitre’d blanched. “Get out of my sight. Don’t come back unless you’re bringing us a plate of Jello salad.”

Jon laughed harder as Jonah sat back down, huffy and embarrassed. His ears were red again - how quaint. Jon had the feeling he’d grow to enjoy this James Wright body - as much as anybody could enjoy Jonah, of course. “Jello salad? Is that the nasty preserved food you people are all eating?”

“It’s modern cuisine,” Jonah said stiffly. “It’s quite good. Aren’t you the one who’s so fervent in preaching the gospel of modernism?”

“Not if it comes in Cool Whip and bologna, I don’t.” Jon pulled a mock sympathetic face. “You ought to be more careful, Jonah. It’s worth keeping an eye on your health. I heard that bologna helps promote aging.”

“I will spear you with this fork and cook you over a fire,” Jonah said pleasantly.

“My, are you balding so soon -”

In the end, they were thrown out anyway. It was for the best, anyway: Jon had no intention of eating that suburban trash.

That day was the last he ever saw of James Wright. It was the last he saw of Jonah Magnus, too - at least, until he received a phone call in 2015 saying that Gertrude Robinson was dead, and that he was required home to select a new Head Archivist.

It stood to reason that Jon wasn’t really necessary for the process. He had no part in choosing that woman Archivist - why would he be necessary for the next one?

“I am beginning to think,” Jonah said over the phone, voice strange and uncanny with Jonah’s familiar cadence in a reedy and light voice, “that I am incapable of appointing controllable Archivists. Every one you’ve picked has been blissfully, wonderfully boring, and the ones that I pick defy me, ruin my plans, and try to kill me. Get back here and choose one yourself.”

“But Jonah,” Jon had said, delighted, “you choose me as your Archivist.”

“I said what I said. Get back here, now. Please.”

And that, in the end, was what brought Jon home: the fact that Jonah hadn’t cajoled, manipulated, or tricked. It was the fact that he had asked. Had said please.

He had never said please to Jon before.

But maybe it was pointless anyway: Sasha James was no more malleable than her predecessor had been.

#georgie shows up as a beautiful but aloof woman in On the Road who won't sleep with sal because she's too beautiful and free #i'm trying to reconcile here 'jon & jonah like each other and are family'#with 'jonah has a paternalistic and controlling attitude where he just thinks jon should spend all of his time working for him #and when he inevitably wants independence and freedom they fight #still working on it!#tma #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfiction #my writing #human relations #jonathan sims #jonah magnus #*breakdances* literally every relationship in HR was controlling and manipulative and I have feelings about this

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relatablegenzwriter · 4 years

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heya~ bit weird but do you have any advice for outlining? I always outline but half way through actually writing something I realise I've not thought of something (OTL) Thanks in advance!!

Advice on Outlining

I honestly never thought I’d see the day someone asked me for advice on outlining. When I was about ten and aiming to be the world’s youngest published novelist (lmao look how that turned out), everyone who knew me as a writer also knew that I would never, ever outline before I wrote something. I argued that it sucked all the fun out of writing. I couldn’t let my characters do whatever they wanted if I had to stick to a script. I would have to spend more time planning that I could’ve spent on actually writing my stories. I’d see all the gaps and places where my story was lacking in its plot. I’m not selling this outlining thing well, am I?

As I’ve written more, I’ve also warmed up to the idea of outlining. I’ll again preface this by saying I have never finished a novel, despite having started countless, so I can’t speak to how outlining has helped me throughout a project. But I do have a general sense of what works and what doesn’t, at least for me, so I’ll do what I can.

After some careful thought, here’s my advice on how to outline.

Don’t outline.

At least, not right away. I’ve found that I need to know my story, its characters, its ~vibes~, etc. before I can really make an accurate outline. A common concern with outlines is that you’ll make people do things out of character, or that the story won’t want to go in the direction you tell it to. Test out the waters a little bit first. Write that one scene that’s been in your head–you know which one I’m talking about–and figure out the style, the main characters, the mood, everything you really need to get the feel of your story. I like to write a bunch of beginnings, which can be helpful even if you don’t know where to start your story. Some people like to do character questionnaires so they know who they’re dealing with. Others will have that one scene that they think of when they think of their story, and will write that first to figure out where to go from there. There’s a lot of ways to warm up to the story, so play with a bunch of them and figure out what works for you. The point I’m trying to get across here is that you can’t successfully outline if you don’t know your story well enough. Fortunately, that’s an easy problem to fix.

What’s next?

That depends. If you look up “outlining methods”, you’ll find hundreds of lists, questionnaires, and weird diagrams that look like they came straight out of high school English class. There is no magical way to outline. With that being said, I’ll describe the way that I outline my work, and then add some general tips at the end.

2. The basics.

Trying to write out every little detail from the beginning will likely overwhelm you and create writer’s block before you’ve even started writing.

don't do that.

Instead, get your basics all in one place: who are your characters? Where is it set? What is the premise? Once you do that, make note of the events that you know will happen. “Lily dies”, “Sam and Evan kiss”, “Aiyana confronts her family”, etc. I sometimes like to fill this out on paper or on a whiteboard like a timeline. Otherwise, making a bulleted list in a digital document also works. The one thing I’d advise is not to make this kind of list on paper, because as you start to insert more events between others, it’ll start to get really crowded.

3. Fill in the rest!

Start to generate scenes and events that go between the ones you already have. Some things to consider:

what propels the story from point A to point B?

what needs to happen to further your characters’ arcs? (a follow up: do you know how you want your characters to grow throughout this story? what needs to happen in order for them to change?)

what could POSSIBLY happen?

is there a character who’s not doing enough yet who you want to give more attention to? something that’s not highlighted much in your list that you want to focus on more?

And essentially, you’ve made an outline! I know, so few steps. But this is actually going to take a while. This method may not work for you, and you’ll have to find other ones (that I’m not going into detail about because I don’t use them or know much about them). You’ll have to take some time to get to know your story. Step three WILL give you writer’s block, and as always you’ll be able to break through it, but don’t expect this process to be easy. But it is worth it!

And finally…

4. Change it.

Once you sit down to write your story, chances are you’ll run into a plothole, or something you want to do differently. You asked about this in your question, and all I can say is yes! You’re right! For my oldest WIP, which has been around for almost six years, I can recall four specific outline revisions where I wrote the whole outline again from scratch. (This particular WIP has given me SERIOUS trouble, so take my experience with a grain of salt.) What I can say is that every time you revise your outline, it will get stronger, you’ll know your story better, and you’ll have more opportunity to be creative and revisit your story. I don’t understand why it’s considered the norm to outline once and then move on with a project, when it should be perfectly acceptable to pause your writing, say “that doesn’t look right”, and outline the story again. Your story, especially in the early stages, is fluid! You’ll actually be surprised by how long it remains that way, too. Point is, it’s okay for things to come up in the writing that don’t make sense with the outline, as long as you’re willing to revisit your original plans and reassess. I haven’t seen this approach discussed much if at all, so there’s a very good chance I could simply be a very disorganized writer who hasn’t made much progress on her big projects. But there could also be some legitimacy to this word jumble, so take what you will from it.

5. Other outlining exercises…

Try to map out individual character arcs as part of your outlining. That way, you can make sure that their development lines up with the events in the story and the development of other characters.

If you’re a visual person, writing plot points on sticky notes and arranging them on a wall is very useful and also makes you feel like This Man.

Free write (no erasing!), by hand, a summary of your plot–no detailed prose or dialogue, just a straightforward description of what happens. If questions come up, write them into the outline and keep writing. Once you finish you can go back and highlight all the questions you wrote.

Speaking of questions: when one comes up, really dive into it. What I like to do is write the question on top of a piece of paper and make a bulleted list of all the possible answers. Dive deeper into the ones you like, maybe combine a few. You could also do one of those web diagram things (those ones that look like clouds) if you’re the diagram type.

As your outline evolves, reassess why each scene is there. If it’s only purpose is “I like writing it”, maybe it’s time to write it for you and cut it out of the story. (Side note: this still applies to That Scene. You know the one.)

Call someone and explain the plot to them. They don’t necessarily need to be a writer, just someone who’s willing to listen to you relay the plot of a whole story to them. They can give input if they like, but the purpose of this is for you to have to explain your plot to someone else. It’ll be more obvious to you when something doesn’t make sense or belong in the story if you’re explaining it to another person. Especially note any clarifying questions or moments of confusion that they have. If you don’t have a person willing to do this, record yourself talking about it to your phone/camera/tablet/computer.

Don’t be afraid of the dramatic. When you’re first coming up with an outline, you’re exploring ALL possibilities. Even if your answer to “How does Aoife end up at Shauna’s house?” ends up being “She took the bus” instead of “The mailman, who is actually her estranged uncle, kidnapped her from her home and hid her in Shauna’s basement because Shauna and her uncle were having an affair”. You get to be creative, have fun, and even if you take the more realistic route, you’re reaffirming that that’s the direction you want to take.

Best of luck to you!

#writing #writers #writing tips #outlining #answering asks #my advice posts

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dropsofletters · 4 years

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the perks of loving in return

title: the perks of loving in return pairing: wong kun hang/reader genre: childhood friends!au/bridesmaid!au/groomsman!au summary: kun hang has always bled into her life, imprints of images in the back of every moment she has lived. something about him is always present in her, purely stuck to her soul in the most mundane of ways—two strangers united by fate. perhaps, it goes in hand with the fact that he is her cousin’s best friend, but their relationship has never gone past simple conversation. fate takes care of that along with her cousin’s rushed, out-of-the-blue wedding, basically pushing the bridesmaid and the groomsman together once again. type: fluff/romance/humor word count: 12,025 ⚠️ disclaimer: this is part of the love diaries, my valentine’s day project with wayv, if you want to read the rest of the members’ stories, you can click here and find the masterlist for it.

In her life, the concept of time is so tight that she barely had time to breathe. Still, she is one of those people that continues to use watches, the accessory an excuse for her to continue looking down at her arm, rushing from one place to the other, living her life in such a hurry that she barely got time to stop and stare at the beauty that surrounded her.

January is as beautiful as she remembered it, with its mornings that feel like will never come thanks to the Sun taking a little bit more time to awaken and the breeze that clings to her clothes, the perfect mixture of warmth and coldness. Then again, the heat may come from the fact that she is always running around from her campus to her workplace, forgoing the taxis and the helpful car rides to simply take a walk to whatever place she needed to be. She’s punctual, over all, loving when the clock indicates that she is ten or fifteen minutes earlier, indicating that she is even faster than responsibility itself—it brings her pride, taking the few minutes she has to take a break. This eventful morning, she gets to lean against a wall and look at the beauty of the city, how people seem to be slower in this time of the year. Everyone is still dizzy from the holidays, or perhaps putting their health first in the first month of the year, but it is rewarding in every possible way.

Waiting for ten minutes is one thing, but waiting for twenty becomes unbearable for her, growing tired of the glances people thrown her way and the ache that now settles on her fingertips thanks to the coldness around her. After all, being in front of a wedding venue in the middle of her busy day is not exactly what she had envisioned to be doing on her Saturday morning. She could have taken this time to rest before she had to go to her shift in the record store she worked at, or perhaps her fingers could have picked at the edges of her textbook, getting ready for yet another test…instead, she was there, staying after such a long while thanks to her cousin’s quickened and utterly pointless decision of getting married to high-school sweetheart. Surely, she is happy for them…but her back that is now practically glued to the closed door of the wedding venue they were supposed to be checking out is telling her to simply leave as is.

To hell being a bridesmaid. The weather is perfect to sit with a cup of hot chocolate, coated in marshmallows and ready for her to sip on as she thinks of her duties of the morning. Her agenda must welcome her with something new to do and the pleasure of crossing an activity with a bunch of lines after finishing it could never compare to anything else. She is a lover of organization, of color coding and planning the entirety of her life.

Speaking of lovers, someone who is the epitome of a million hearts drawn in a sheet of paper, red and palpitating even in its static figure, is nearing her with quickened steps. The black strands of his hair fell in wavy lines to frame his face, his most delicate features coming from his thin set of lips and playful eyes, like he is mocking the wind for not being able to stop him. Her mind recognizes the slim figure of him, the width of his nose, the shape of his smile when he sees her, one hand lifting up in the air to greet her with a wave, though it may as well be a warning for her to go. She likes to call him ‘lover boy’ with how loving and doting he looks, earning the appreciation of people for as long as she has known him—and it has been a big chunk of time since the first time she got introduced to him—. Life falls in love with him, people cannot figure out how anyone could hate him and she admits that she does not hate him, either, even though their conversations have always been somewhat shortened by reality.

She may call him lover boy in her head, but his real name is Kun Hang. The once youthful teenager that she had met in her cousin’s fourteenth birthday party, the same one that took the time to sneak snacks around during that fulfilling night for her to have and the one who whined when she had to go back home. From then on, she only saw him the year after that, on her cousin’s fifteenth birthday party and soon after, it became more common to see Kun Hang. Her cousin’s internet connection just happened to be faster and whenever she went over, she would be met by the sight of the sun-kissed boy that would always be worried about the amount of time she spent on homework or how she would hunch over when she was writing a paper, but other than that…the further away she got from her cousin, the less she heard from Kun Hang.

Though, she always knew everything that happened in his life—gossip of mouth coming from her cousins, or simply because she saw it on social media. Kun Hang, the ever loved guy, who had gone through a skating phase and fell in love once or twice before he fell to dull silence. Sometimes, when she saw Kun Hang in their spared time together, she wondered if he was part of her imagination, a memory that lingered on the back of every picture or the one voice she heard during birthday parties when she was helping up with the cleaning. Perhaps, Kun Hang came to her when time felt like it stopped, releasing her name in a breathy sigh when he stands in front of her.

He is significantly different, nothing she has not seen in pictures, but it has been well over eight months since the last time she saw him. Athletic in his clothing, his bomber jacket on top of his typical white t-shirt and jeans just exudes his name, it reminds her that Kun Hang has changed little to nothing since the moment she met him when he was just thirteen. If she is a lover of organization, Kun Hang adores to destroy it all—getting to a wedding planning meeting ten minutes late is so likely to be done by him, definitely unexpected from the couple who are actually getting married…but what else can she expect from her cousin?

“Is your cousin not here yet?” Kun Hang asks, trying to calm down his breathing by the time she shakes her head. She feels like she wants to run away, mainly because she has way more important things to do than being stood up by her cousin and his fiancé, but she opts to keep the man company for a little while, taking in the way he leans on the wall beside her. “Damn, and here I was thinking I got here pretty late. I had to park two blocks away from here and run all the way.” He speaks a little too quickly, turning to look at her before giving her a toothy grin. “Hi, by the way, I forgot to say that.”

Unlike her, Kun Hang has always been the calm type. Not exactly in the delivery of his jokes or in the way he dances when he is in the middle of a party, but with time. He thinks he has all the moments in the world to do everything and anything, even leaving some things for the last few hours he has before it needs to be delivered, but she is the complete opposite. “Hello,” She utters, crossing her arms over her chest after she says that. “I think it is the first time seeing you rush for something.”

“I am the groomsman and I can’t do my best friend dirty by not helping him out along the way.” In all honesty, she doesn’t think she has the most excellent of relationships with her cousin. They get along well, but she has always been a bit against his style of living. For her cousin, everything needs to be done and decided in just one second, and planning seems like a stupid way martyrs try to make their lives more difficult. Their argued words are respectful, but in the depths of her brain…she wondered if Kun Hang ever thought the same about her, that she had lived her life in such a methodical manner that she was merely existing. “What are you doing here? He didn’t tell me you’d be coming here.”

“He texted me last night. Said his fiancé wanted me as her bridesmaid.” She rolls her eyes, unaware of why she has to be one of those cupcake-looking individuals that stood behind the couple in the wedding pictures, but after giving it some consideration and being almost physically unable to say no to free food for an unlimited amount of time, she opted to come to this place and expected to get some planning done, as well as having the couple decide where their wedding party was going to be located.

Kun Hang seems delighted, though he quirks his eyebrows at her words. “You? As a bridesmaid? I don’t see you in the spot.”

“Ha! Me neither.” She scoffs out the answer, earning a laugh from Kun Hang. Something about her has always been funny, she found out earlier in her life, as if her imminent sarcasm is the newest of joking forms to him. Sometimes, she believes he just does it because he is like that—the Kun Hang that comes with no warning signs, the young man who will cage anyone in with his charms, and that almost caught her once or twice when she got a good look at him. Most of the time, she refrained herself from talking too much to Kun Hang; though a great man, she knows exactly what would happen with her brain if she got to know him better. It would find the charm in him and twist it to something that would linger fearfully in her heart, like a crush but worse.

Rolling on his side so only his left shoulder is resting against the door, he takes his phone out of his pocket before pressing down on the screen quickly, as if writing a text. “Well, I’m not sure, I haven’t seen you in long…” He comments and with a glimpse at his screen, she gets to see that he is texting her cousin. “Maybe, you’ve changed and now you’re into parties and formalities.”

A chuckle comes from the depths of her soul, feeling her stress dissipating to only a glimmering light in the back of her head. She turns slightly, as well, eager to get a good look of him when he finally lifts his gaze. “Never.” She claims, knowing full well that she would rather spend her free time snuggled up against her bed or simply catching up with music that she has yet to listen to, taking the time to relax rather than stressing out about clothing and talking in social events. “Besides, it has not been that long since you saw me last. It was eight, nine months ago…” The few lights in the sky shouldn’t touch his skin so marvelously, it shouldn’t make him see like he is in the utmost relaxed state, but he is. It shows in the way he simply enjoys the conversation, not even glancing at the time once.

“You keep track.” Kun Hang points out, his lips puckered up in a smile when she widens her eyes.

“Uh, not really…” She whispers, embarrassed from his words before turning her body away, looking ahead of her instead of basking in the warmth of his gaze. “I just know.”

“Right,” He adds. “Sometimes, I forget you really are a know-it-all.”

“Am not.” Argue is what she does, stepping away from the door to stand in front of him. She stretches her arms over her head, wanting to move a bit to feel like she is being useful with her time. From so much running and so much planning, she starts to feel like a marathoner, searching for a free day only to be met with more deadlines. She convinces herself that if she stresses out today, she won’t have to worry the next day, but it has been like that for quite a few years. She is used to it. “I just know that you are always there if I go to my cousin’s or anywhere he’s at.”

Kun Hang shrugs his shoulders, nodding his head at her words. “I am kind of his husband by now, that’s true.” He comments, moving his fingers as if he is playing a piano in the air or simply typing something in the breeze. “Don’t make me remind you that you are always in a computer like this. Last time we saw each other; you didn’t even greet me. That’s why it seems like it has been ages.” When he stops his motions, his talent of speaking as if he has a pout on his face when he is actually smiling surprises her.

“I— You didn’t say hello, either.”

“I am always the one to say hello.” The man indicates easily, a reminder that, indeed, she has always been too busy or embarrassed to spare him more than a glance and a simple wave, but the one that started the conversation was always Kun Hang. He is the party maker, a shade of red that is almost obnoxious, passion in human form. Even in his quietest of states, he manages to have people entertained by him…or at least, drawn to him. “Am I right or not?”

Keeping her mouth shut, she mouths a small: “I guess.” Before Kun Hang claps his hands together.

“I am so right!”

“…I am just so busy.” She comments, trying to defend herself with hard work and pointy facts, but her words are cut short when Kun Hang battles back with facts of his own.

“Do you ever plan to take a break?”

“I don’t.” She answers, a small smile displaying over her features. “I was just about to leave before you got here. I don’t have time to waste.”

“Ooh, sassy.” Kun Hang plays around with his tone, raising one hand in the air for her to high-five and once he does, she can simply bask on the sight of him. So happy, like he is genuinely glad that they get to talk without having anything interrupting them, or where she actually gives him more than one word answers. “Good thing your cousin is already here—” His finger points behind her and clearly, she gets to see the sight of her cousin’s old Volkswagen, obnoxiously yellow and bright, a shade that almost has her closing her eyes. When she hears Kun Hang’s voice, it is mostly teasing, though awaiting at the same time. “Well, now that you are a bridesmaid and I am playing the groomsman role, I feel like I can teach you a thing or two.” She looks at him, frowning at his words before huffing. “I am serious! I will teach you how to relax and enjoy life.”

Shaking her head, she greets her cousin with a wave of her hand. “Get over here, you’re late!” She exclaims, though she lowers her voice to speak to Kun Hang. Mischief is over his features, fixing the bucket hat on his head when she speaks to him. “Take me by surprise. I doubt you will get me to relax.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Hell yes.” She comments, nodding slightly before she pulls the sleeves of her coat down on her hands. Nervousness is brought upon her when she realizes just how much she had talked to Kun Hang in such little time, wondering if she made a fool of herself or if she came off too rude, but instead, lover boy takes his hat off, placing it upon his chest and holding it in place with one hand, closing his eyes thanks to his delighted thoughts.

“I swear I will, I swear over my own name.” He tells her, opening his eyes and quirking an eyebrow soon after. “You just watch.”

Thankfully, the sound of her cousin’s voice is enough to distract her from the promise Kun Hang had just made. In reality, it is probably a play of his words, something that he says to sugarcoat her like he does to everyone else. Maybe, she won’t get to see him until more months and this is just her fix of Kun Hang for the year. Wondering is not something she does, but she acts upon what she actually has planned, which is entering the wedding venue and seeing just how good it is. The only difference is that he has a man by her side, constantly trying to make conversation with her.

It is just one morning with him, she is sure of it. Kun Hang has never been more than just a yearly acquaintance; he won’t be able to actually relax her, take her away from her city-girl lifestyle…but he does an excellent job that day.

📹

On the second week after her first meeting with the soon-to-be-wed couple, she thought she’d be a little bit more lightweight, able to simply text her cousin’s fiancé about the dress and how against she is of wearing tight fabrics, or any skirt for the matter, but that is not the case. Instead, she finds herself in the middle of a dancing class, the sound of some salsa tune reverberating on every corner of the room, holding on to her fingers to keep her sanity. Her legs are constantly moving and not with the need to repeat the steps that the loud dance instructor had indicated, but with the need to run away. If parties are not her scene, much less is an entire dancing routine as the entrance of the groom and bride the passage that she wants to take part of.

She could have said no—but then again, there is something about her that pushes her to finish something that she has already started, like the fear of failure sticks so badly to her skin it is unbearable to keep it there. Think of working out for long hours, only to stop midway through it because she cannot do it anymore, that is simply not her style. Instead, she rushed out of her workplace and took the biggest t-shirt she owned and a pair of those yoga pants she never got to wear in the first place, entering the dancing class that her cousin had talked so excitedly about. At the beginning, everything had been absolutely peachy, two steps to the right, two steps to the left and one to the front. Whatever it was, it was easy enough.

Until she got paired up with Yu Yan’s little brother, the exact replica of her cousin’s fiancé but in male form and definitely more annoying. His height could give have led him to believe he was an adult, a smirk practically plastered on his face when the instructor indicated that they needed to dance together. He really thought that when her back is filled with sweat and her head is thinking of all the possible ways to escape such place—through the window, the door or even by hiding, she doesn’t care at this point—, she is going to stand his…ignorance, his incompetence, his smug face as he makes yet another mistake and they have to go over the routine once again.

The truth is…she is not in the mood. She never wanted to be a bridesmaid on the first place. She would have been fine without the free dinner her cousin had offered whenever she wanted…but her curiousness had won over her, her need to do everything and anything, and now she was stuck with the same annoying tune repeating on her head over and over again.

Pulling away for a brief moment, with the excuse of having to drink water, she pushes her hair away from her face, trying to remember the breathing techniques she once learnt from some online article. This is what wasting her time does to her, when she feels like she is stuck doing something that is not productive. Sometimes, she knows it is important to take a break or two—which she does whenever she can—but this is entirely ridiculous. For someone who spends her afternoons in between punk enthusiast and rock fans selling records in a mall, and who works her hardest in college to get somewhat acceptable grades—with the occasional cry from bad results—, this is the lowest blow to her ego. A reminder that it only takes a single salsa class and an ineffectual dancing partner to reduce her to absolute insanity.

When she twirls the lid on her water bottle, taking a sip of the remaining liquid inside, she notices she had just finished it. Great, exactly what she needed when her mood is going through a volcano and burning itself alive in so much hatred that she could scream. She doesn’t, luckily or not, she is capable of keeping her lips shut when she feels someone’s cold bottle pressing to the side of her arm. When turning around, her mouth is already opening to snap at the individual who had done such an atrocity, but her words die down in the back of her throat when she sees who exactly was trying to bother her.

And the sight of his innocent smile, though a bit mischievous, is enough to have her question if there is one good thing that can come out from this dancing class…

Only one, though. One in the shape of the lover boy that is always a pleasure to talk to.

He chuckles, so heartfelt that happiness suddenly feels to be defined by his name. Kun Hang was in her peripheral vision earlier in the evening, his footwork smooth but also funny when he needs to ease the tension around the air. Something about him makes her feel like there are a million worries in the world, but now—this present that she is living—is just a second. In the blink of an eye, something could happen, something could change, the world will look unaffected, but there are thousands of matters taking importance in people’s lives. For every worry, there is a smile, there is a new beginning, there is a person out there who is trying their best…there is joy. From the early mornings in which she craves coffee more than the sunlight itself, she takes time for granted, planning days ahead, years ahead, always thinking of moving forward and forward and forward. Kun Hang is one of those people that live the moment. “I have some bottled coffee, if you want.” He offers, earning a surprised gaze from the woman in front of him. “Or you can lick the edge of the bottle to see if there’s a little bit of water there. Whatever floats your boat.”

Giving in, she takes the bottle from his hands, almost untouched, the iced coffee nicely welcomed in such a hot day. Kun Hang looks at her when she takes the first sip, hearing her rough voice soon after. “Thank you.” She tells him, pressing her hand against her forehead before sighing. “I really needed the coffee. I feel like I am about to lose my goddamned mind.”

“Is dancing not your thing?”

She takes a glance at the groups of people there, all paired up and conversing, getting ready for the absolute embarrassment that they are going to go through once the wedding comes around and they do a whole salsa routine as an entrance. If outdoing celebrations deserved an award, her cousin and Yu Yan are getting first place. “I have nothing against dancing,” She starts, reminiscent of the moments she danced in her room to the sound of her favorite song or the times in which dancing with her friends just seemed like the only way to stress about something else that wasn’t being better at anything she did. “But fuck, it is difficult when I have a sixteen-year-old boy telling me how a million girls would like to be in my place for dancing with him.” Her nose scrunches up at those words, watching as Kun Hang’s eyes widen, comically but also sweetly. “My question is: do all teenagers have to go through that cringe-worthy phase? Because his is hitting strong, and I am not having it.”

“I didn’t go through it.” Kun Hang says, earning a muffled laugh from her…because she truly remembers that phase that Kun Hang had gone through, in which every videogame he played deserved to be printed in a t-shirt and worn by him until the logo was imperceptible. “I didn’t!”

“Yours wasn’t as strong as mine, I’ll admit that.” She recalls, looking at Kun Hang with adoration in her gaze. The reality is that Kun Hang reminds her of the happiest moments of her teenage years, when all the pressure did not build up with the idea of the future and not becoming a memorable person, but he was always there…static, greeting her even if she was having a bad day and smiling even when she was awestruck by some crush in her high school years. Kun Hang exudes so much whole-hearted contentment, like all he wants to bring to the world is a smile. “This coffee is so good, by the way.”

“Thanks. One of my friends is a barista and I always have him making me the best of the best.” He comments, taking a good look at her before she takes another sip. The bottled drink is given to him, his smile changing to a confused expression almost instantly. “Uh, no, you can have it all—”

“I feel bad taking your caffeine intake away from you.”

“You really think this is my first cup of coffee?” Kun Hang asks, giving her the bottle back before scoffing. “I have at least two cups of coffee floating around this beautiful body of mine.” So energetic, lively, yet so softened in his own way. In the eyes of the world, Kun Hang is the type of guy to love during the summer or to talk to during boring days. He is a party in the form of a nice looking guy, exciting, yet not…what she is used to.

“I didn’t know.” She comments, taking one last long sip before putting the lid on and twisting it around in a secure place. “Unrelated, but sometimes when I have too many cups of coffee, I end up falling asleep.”

“You do?” Kun Hang asks, only to have her nodding as they walk towards the center of the dancing room. “I think it’s just your hard work that is making you fall asleep.”

Chuckling, she responds. “You’re not the first person who tells me that.”

“But it’s true! I would be surprised if you even sleep for five hours.” Guilty, she shrugs her shoulders, earning a small push on her shoulder coming from the man in front of her. “You don’t?!”

“…I don’t.” She announces, looking over her shoulder to see that, not too far but neither too close, there is that stupid teenager waiting for her to dance with him again—stupid and young, taking everything like a joke, imagining himself like the young Leonardo DiCaprio of his generation. “This guy is so annoying, what a fucking imbecile—” She speaks lowly, only to have Kun Hang humming, trying to understand the piece of her mind she had just given to the world. An awkward giggle leaves her lips, wondering why in the hell her patience has to be so damned short and why she can’t keep her mouth shut when she really needs to.

“Bo Jing is the imbecile?”

“…Yes.” She sighs, wondering how long it would take her to have to stand such extravagance for a mere union, but there is still quite plenty of time for it to end. February is just around the corner, Valentine’s Day the moment his cousin decided to marry the woman of his dreams. Does that term even exist in this world? A dream is a goal, for her, what appears in her mind that seems to be appealing enough, she reaches—love has never been that important. Overrated, no one is perfect, no one should be treated as so.

“Hey, Bo Jing!” Kun Hang speaks loudly and her eyes widen at the thought of the boy who exudes the definition of love being naïve enough to talk to Bo Jing about her distaste for him. In reality, the teenager simply raises his head, the eyebrow with a shaved slit lifting up at the sound of Kun Hang’s voice. “I’m dancing with her. You’re taking too long to learn the steps.”

Bo Jing’s face falls at those words, laughing slightly though his face reddened. “I—Uh, I was not, it was her fault.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Kun Hang tries not to pick a fight—much less with someone who is clearly underage and has the ego of a damned celebrity. Instead, he opts to make him feel better, taking her by the arm as he speaks. “Is that so? Then, I’ll have to teach her the steps.”

“Okay, that’s good!” The instructor says, clapping her hands together to start with the class once again. Kun Hang gets in position along with her, though the closeness is unbearable. His breath fans over her face, eyes glistening when he smiles down at her. His grip was not strong, neither was it delicate, it just seemed to be like it was meant to feel like this—with his hand grasping hers at a certain angle from their faces, his legs parting slightly, crooking underneath his weight thanks to the dramatic concept of the dance. She tries to do the same, bubbling up with laughter when he tries to muffle his. The lack of space is not something she would have ever imagined could happen with Kun Hang, and though it is merely for entertainment purposes when the wedding does arrive, she knows that she shouldn’t feel half as affected as she is when his chest press to hers when his other hand rests on her waist. His knee bumps against her, fixing the movement of her knee.

“Thank you for saving me,” She replies, adding exasperation to her tone. The dramatics of her tone fit Kun Hang more than it would ever fit her; he has always been like that—not the type of person to demand attention, but that gets it naturally. Flowers bloom from him, in all shapes and colors, sometimes funny, sometimes beautiful, sometimes there to remind someone in the middle of their hectic day that there is youth in all of us. Immature, Kun Hang is, in the most delicate of ways—he is leaning more towards childishly happy than anything else. “And thank you for cracking all the bones in my body with this position. It really helps as a reminder that I’m getting older.”

“Chiropractor Wong Kun Hang at your service.” The comment sounds so oddly funny in his lips, making her throw her head back slightly as she laughs. Hearing the sound of the music starting, moving the moment Kun Hang starts with the steps. The fluidness is there, though there are still some moments in which they bump against each other or that they laugh when they steal glances and realize that this is way too serious. Unnecessarily so. With his hand now resting on her back and their cheeks practically squished together thanks to the dance, speaking to her even through the music. “Fourteen-year-old me would have screamed if someone ever told him he’d up dancing salsa with you.”

The meaning is ambiguous, perhaps because he truly just did such thing because he didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable with another person…or because he truly enjoys the pace, the natural enchantment, the weightless feeling of being around each other in such a different way. They have been acquaintances for as long as they can remember and still, there is still so much to peel and uncover from the other. “Fourteen-year-old me would have cringed.” She says after he raises her back up from leaning her against her back, the vibration of his laughter matching the rhythm of the music pumping through her skin, becoming one with her heart.

“You, right now, are cringing.”

“…You’re not wrong.”

Serenity settles between them, even if the instructor is clapping to a tempo, screaming for instructions, talking over the music. Even when there are other pairs of feet hitting against the same floor as them, moving with the same motions. Talking to him comes naturally, like he really does make time stop—as if the clock doesn’t exist when she is with him, lovely in everything he does.

📹

What is an instant?

An instant is the blink of an eye, if she’s not sleepy, wishing for nothing more than wrap herself up in her blankets and forget that there is even an alarm, that is. An instant is the breath she gives in normal occasions, reminder that she is a palpable being in the planet. An instant is the seconds in the microwave when she just needs to eat something, but when her stomach is twisting in hunger, it is an entire eternity. When people grow older, instants become more constant—years feel like months, some days feel like years, a moment becomes a blurry memory that feels like it existed but it also didn’t, the greatest of times are considered instants. Her life is full of stressful instants, those minutes in between every planned activity that remind her that the twenty-four hours a day gives are not enough, and will never be enough.

Right now, she feels like she can’t do all the things that she has to. Part of her knows that this just comes with the weight of the amount of projects he has to fulfill, this one professor taking his precious time to ask for specifics that could very well land her a job in the NASA with how picky, petty and meticulous they are. But, in her typical fashion, she has to find something even more stressing to cover up the anxiousness that settles within her when she finally finishes her project and still, still it doesn’t complete the checklist of expectations she had for it.

In her defense, though it may as well not be in her defense at all, she hasn’t been attending to wedding practices or anything of the sort simply because she is busy. She contacts the couple whenever she can, half-assed in her approach because she shouldn’t be caring about someone’s wedding, but there is not a lot of information she can play around with. That is her excuse for calling Wong Kun Hang at ten at night, simply because she needs to stress out about something else and a wedding along with a phone-call with the one lover boy that she has always felt attraction for sounds like the perfect hindrance.

Waiting for him to pick up feels like those mere seconds in which she waits for the water to boil when cooking pasta. Part of her wants to stop doing it, for too much work is not exactly what she needs at the moment, but at the same time—she wants to, but waiting brings anxiousness upon her and it definitely does not feel nice when she wonders if Kun Hang is just being nice and she’ll be able to take off that mask of charisma by calling him so late at night. Not even texting him, calling him.

“Oh, look who’s calling. Finally finished with the studying hibernation season?”

Studying hibernation season, more like her whole life. Though, Kun Hang already knows that. The most important matter right now is how she is laying against her bed, opting to speak lowly on the phone because if her roommate ever hears her speaking too loudly at night, she is definitely going to have to get through an earful of words in the form of a scold. Instead, she wonders what had gotten over her—looking for words is a hassle, going around from touching the hem of her shirt to pressing her palm to her eyes, in hopes of completely forgetting the shiver that runs down her spine when she feels embarrassment creeping up on her.

“Uh, not really. I’ve been working on a project all week, just finished it now…” The same week that she has been avoiding any kind of wedding preparations. She sits up on her bed, legs dangling from the side, fists tightening on the fabric of her blankets, gripping so tightly anyone would think she is having a call with someone of importance. “I was going to ask you how the wedding preparations were going. Did they find the venue? What about the dance, did they finally give up on that?”

“We wish.” Kun Hang adds softly, the rustling of sheets following his statement. Right, some people actually have sleeping schedules…and Kun Hang just seems like the type to have one. “To answer your question, though…” His voice trails softly, unlike his typical cheery tone. There is still happiness in there, threaded in between his sleepiness, but the difference in tone is spectacular. His range changes from cheery to the sweetest lullaby. “They found a venue after looking at a hundred more, but Yu Yan lost her ring after looking for a venue near the beach and getting inside the water.”

Gasping, she imagines the exact imagine in her brain. The waves clashing against each other softly, the scream that probably left Yu Yan’s lips and her cousin’s bank account asking for a break. After all, he likes giving himself a luxurious gift or two every once in a while, practically leaving him void of any money. “No way…”

“You should have seen her. Dude, I told her to not get in the water but then she just got in and honestly? It was expected, I’m not surprised.” Kun Hang’s tone is now more excited, as if he wants her to relive the moment with him. Nonetheless, she can only imagine how bad it feels to lose such a bright, big diamond ring. “By the way, you should totally come with us. In three days, Yu Yan is going to buy her new ring and she asked me to go with her.” The invitation is typical of Kun Hang; he wants everyone feel involved, to spend a good time with the people that surround his life, truly living the best times of his life with people around him. They are not friends, even though they know more about each other than some friends do, but even then…everything has fallen into place for them, not exactly because they seek each other’s presence in their lives.

“Sure. I’ll see what I can do. Is the time confirmed yet?”

“Not really. I’m sure she’ll talk about it in that group-chat she made.”

“The one no one checks?” She chuckles, hearing a laugh coming from Kun Hang.

“That one.” He confirms, though the dull atmosphere in between them is changed the moment a second passes by. Suddenly, she realizes that her previous train of thought was right—they have never actually looked or wished to spend time with the other or even text each other, but they still had each other’s numbers.

“How did you get my number?” It is a weird question to ask…because, well, she is the one calling him at ten at night, practically uncovering the fact that she did ask her cousin for Kun Hang’s number, but that was a childish thing she did a few months ago, just in case she needed it. One never knows when you need an ex-skater to help you out with something.

“Remember that one time your cousin and I were racing with bicycles when we were, like, seventeen?” The memory is engraved in her brain. The cuts that had covered Kun Hang’s youthful face, cleaned up with a cloth even though his tears were impeding her actions, coaxing him through the endless pain with some nagging of her own. At the end of the night, Kun Hang was spared the broken leg and instead, sported a few Band-Aids on his face, of his favorite videogame characters.

“Indeed,” The laughter escapes her lips, remembering the distress she felt when she was called to help Kun Hang out. “What about it?”

“I just knew I would need your number if I ever got in trouble. You know, you’re always so…on time to everything. It’s either calling an ambulance or you.” There is something appealing about being a person of support for him, even if in theory they are nothing more than two people who happen to be in each other’s lives more often than they intend to. “What about you?”

“…I…just asked for your number.” She confesses, leaning back down on her bed before sighing.

“Ooh, that’s so cute.” The compliment should have not brought heat to her face but there he is, being the charmer that he is used to being. It doesn’t surprise her that Kun Hang has one or two people head over heels for him—or fourteen, for the matter.

“What’s cute about that?”

“You didn’t even ask me. That means I make you shy.”

“It would be stupid to ask for your number years after we’ve known each other…to you, specifically.” She retorts, releasing a breathy laugh soon after. “Wait, that sentence didn’t make sense. Too much studying is frying my brain.”

Humming the tune of a song, he interrupts himself to give his response. “Take a break.” He tells her. “I know it sounds impossible to you and you think you’re going to fail if you take a five-minute break, but I promise you, with my knowledge of an average student, that nothing is going to happen if you just…rest.”

“If only it was that easy.” Her mind is trapped in the confines of her own imagination, earning a scoff from Kun Hang.

From his side of the world—his instants being longer than hers, in his own patient mind, Kun Hang believes in the power of letting time be, for a race against the least unintelligible concept of reality, thus only conceptualized by supposition, the Moon and the Sun must be tiresome. In the very end, she’ll end up tired…and she’ll realize she didn’t lose an instant, but she lost a lot of what she could have earned with the littlest moments of taking care of herself. “It is not.” Kun Hang reasons. “But it’s important.”

“Yeah, right. I’ll take care of it later.”

“Later is not now, but I’ll take it.” Kun Hang’s breath fans on his end of the phone softly, coming from the yawn that he lets out. “I’ll head off to sleep. I’ll text you later.”

And unlike anything she has ever said before, she answers with: “Later is not now.” Before realizing what she just said, hanging up in time to hear the sound of Kun Hang’s laughter, meddling with her little goodbye.

That definitely goes to the top ten most embarrassing things she has said in front of him.

In typical Kun Hang nature, though, she does get a text.

📹

You don’t notice the shade of someone’s eyes the moment you meet them, or most likely, you don’t. You don’t notice what they may be going true, if a smile is just there for the sake of it, or if their short replies comes from a place of chillness or simply because they are too shy and anxious to utter long sentences. You don’t know how much time they will take away from your life or how many times you’ll get to hear their laughs. You don’t know if they’ll break your heart or if five years from now, you’ll even remember them—

Right now, she knows plenty of things that she didn’t know about Kun Hang before, when she was merely a teenager. His eyes are so brown they may have been works of a chocolatier in their most inspired night. Kun Hang is not one for short replies, too hyperactive to even be able to keep up with anyone, and he is always trying to make everyone happy—though not perfectly, but that is his charm. He is so raw, just honest with the type of person that he is, that it feels like it is meant to be. Five years or more from the day she got to know him, she can say that she doesn’t hate him. She doesn’t love him. They are not friends. They are not strangers. They are and they aren’t, but what are they?

She can’t specifically answer that, though she knows what she wants to be to him—a friend, the type of friend that they have always been meant to be, but they never became. Actually, she can’t actually answer the title they deserve to have now, for it is far too complex, too long in its story, but she can say where they are and a jewelry store is just the perfect setting.

Pristine glass showcasing the most expensive of jewelry, loudly presented by the ever-charismatic worker there, some good amount taller than Kun Hang. It is far too elegant for people like them, standing behind Yu Yan with equally as lost looks. The woman is definitely more interested, elegant hands grasping the diamonds and the rings in between her fingertips, meanwhile she is trying not to look at the way Kun Hang moves, going from one corner of the shop to another, pacing back and forth, sometimes getting lost in looking at something before returning to his spot beside her. The consequences are almost nonexistent, though, she prides herself in her talent of not being caught when she is stealing one or two glances at him from the corner of her eye.

This is the time of her life where she really is not sure if her mind gravitates towards the action of looking at him because she is thinking of how much his shirt makes him look like he is dressed as ‘Where’s Waldo?’ or because she genuinely likes what she sees. Although, it has never been quite a secret that Kun Hang is naturally attractive—the guy next door type of attractive, where she can imagine him as the type of man most people daydream having as their first love. Charming, with that glimpse of too much youthfulness, like he swears to live under the ‘ride or die’ phrase.

Suddenly, she feels his breath cascading over her ear when he speaks to her lowly. “There’s a pizza shop right in front, you want to go there?”

Weighting the options, it’s either waiting there until Yu Yan finally decides on a ring—and that won’t be soon, really—or going to a nice-looking pizza place, neon lights and yellow along with red colored decorations giving away a nice vibe. “I would love to.” She whispers back, calling Yu Yan’s name softly, only to get a hum from the busy woman. “We’ll go eat some pizza while you…decide…”

“I don’t mind. Bring me some.”

That’s the cue for them to go out of the place as quickly as they can, either because looking around various jewelry places with Yu Yan is tiresome on its own or because they are really hungry. She takes the time to bask in simple conversation with Kun Hang, her hands in her pockets as she listens to him ramble about his favorite choices in food—he’s a wild card, going from the most expected of things to different pleasantries he has tried, not exactly minding the taste of a flavorful pizza. Kun Hang tries his hardest to make her feel at ease, like he has done for the past few years endlessly, and still, she can’t wrap her mind around it.

It’s too difficult to understand why he smiles at her when she tells him her favorite pizza topping, only to earn a chuckle from him. “Typical college student order.”

“Oh, excuse me, you’re calling me typical?” She asks, pushing the door open to see some black haired water, wearing a red cap and the most appealing smile when Kun Hang waves at him, though his attention quickly goes back to the person by his side.

“Not really, but your college should pay you for the amount of publicity you give them. All you seem to care about is that, which is amazing, but…breathe for a second.” His words are not meant to offend her, instead, he is trying to push the worries away from her. Working too hard is her brand, the clothes she wears every morning, afternoon and night. It is, indeed, fulfilling on the long run…but a single failed attempt at something is enough to tumble her down, breaking her to shards of the person she is. “I admire you for never complaining, though.”

Chuckling, she looks at the board that describes all the toppings for the pizzas and types of sauces, only to continue the conversation while doing so. “I do complain. Mostly mentally.”

“Why do you never complain to someone else?” He asks.

“Because I don’t want to bother anymore.”

“You never bother me.”

“That’s because you don’t actually talk to me that much. If I started to ramble about my tests and the topics I’m excited about, and the classes I love and hate and whatever, you probably wouldn’t listen.”

You don’t know how a person is going to react when you open up to them even the slightest. You don’t know if they’ll laugh, if they’ll remain quiet, if they are faking their reactions or they mean it. What she doesn’t know is that there are numerous perks to Kun Hang and they show in the way he looks at her, like she has just described his favorite fairytale, one that brings him memories from his past. In Kun Hang’s case, like she had reminded him of the videogame that he used to play when he was younger.

“I would listen to all of that. I wouldn’t get tired.” He shrugs, licking his bottom lip before biting down on it. Reaching for his wallet inside his pocket, he continues. “You know what? Let’s order something and sit down. Let’s have our first long conversation.” The sincerity and determination in his voice is quickly deleted when his voice drops slowly, eyebrows molding into an expression of insecurity. “If you want, of course.”

It sounds fitting after so many years, and for the first time, she doesn’t question what she knows or what she doesn’t, she simply lets Kun Hang lead the conversation, no matter of pointless of open it is.

📹

One day, everything becomes a pattern.

For example, she checks her phone when she gets out of class, most likely at around eleven in the morning, when she is moving from one part of the campus to the other, tightening the strips of her hoodie to keep it place, smiling at the messages Kun Hang leaves her, to which she responds as quickly as possible. But there are even worse routines, like spending every Saturday helping his cousin get to the aisle with the love of his life and having to deal with the impossibilities of being a bridesmaid. Dress trying is not supposed to be one of those hardships, but when Yu Yan had spoken about short, tight dresses, she had eventually weighted the options of simply leaving the spot at the wedding for someone way more fitting. Someone who, in this instance, is not her.

One of her habits, amongst many others like basically living with her face buried deep in a book and sometimes eating on her bed for being too lazy to even stand up, there is this one that she acquired once entering college. Any possibility of high heels was exchanged for sneakers, all skirts and dresses were pushed to the back of her closet, only purchased to wear once in her life before opting to wear her typical leggings instead. She had become quite lazy with style; she can sincerely accept that. When there are more important matters in hand, wearing a skirt is the least of her worries—beautiful they are, but not good for running around the campus to get to her classes.

Which is why she basically feels odd when she tries the purple dress on, the lilac shade appealing to the eye, but the skirt of the dress short enough for her to bend over and basically have her underwear displayed to everyone in the wedding reception. The more she looks at it, the more she wants to simply say it doesn’t fit her and put on her leggings, because as pretty as it may be, she has grown used to a certain version of herself, hard to battle when she remembers just how much exposure she will get from that wedding. Families and friends alike, all looking at her dancing to whatever song she had learned and wearing a purple dress and most definitely posing for pictures that she will hate in the long run. The only thing keeping this wedding somewhat acceptable is the food and, of course, her dancing partner.

Her dancing partner, Kun Hang, who was trying his suit on earlier and he had looked like the epitome of a prince. Someone like him is not expected to ever wear a tuxedo, but the black fabric and the white of the shirt that he tucks underneath matches him perfectly, wearing the same shade of purple in his tie than the one on her dress. The dress that has her locked up in a changing room, wondering if she will be able to get out without feeling like absolute shit.

The wedding is in two weeks. She better just get out there and be brave. It’s just a simple dress. That is what she promises herself, but the moment she unlocks the door, she releases a shaky breath.

Someone should have listened to her opinion of wearing pants.

Luckily for her, people are too tired with their own looks, fixing the smallest details and going around the shop to look for the shoes that they are going to wear, but a few steps away from the changing room lets her see that there is someone seated there, looking down at his phone with peace, his normal state of mind. Kun Hang still has his suit on, immaculate as in the beginning, but she is now aware of how right she is about the fit and the style, all made for Kun Hang.

Lifting his gaze at the sound of a door closing, Kun Hang barely acknowledges her before returning his gaze to his phone. It takes him around three seconds to look up again, a soft smile caressing his features when he realizes who it is. “Is there anything bothering you? You look like you’re going through it.”

“Trust me. I’m going through it right now.” She finishes, pulling down the hem of her dress before sighing. “It is way too short.”

“Huh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with a dress. You don’t like them?” Kun Hang questions, not the most observant of men, but when it comes to her, he seems to know much more than she gives him credit for. It is as though she is not as good as she makes herself out to be when it comes to hiding her feelings, or Kun Hang just knows her too well. Shaking her head, she gives him the answer he expected. “You should talk to Yu Yan about the length, then. I’m sure she can get it fixed—”

Plopping down on the seat beside him, she imagined just how much of a mess that would be. This is one of her tipping points when everything in her life seems to be too much and accepting to be a bridesmaid, on top of all, just seems to succeed on breaking her apart. “I’ll just leave it like that.” She comments, watching as Kun Hang reaches for his backpack, taking his leather jacket out of its confines before wrapping it around her waist. “Uh, you don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He comments, looking up at her after tying it in a knot, the closeness long gone. “Besides, if you’re not comfortable with it on its own, then I’ll help you cover it.”

“Thank you.”

“I am here to help.” He comments, taking one look over his shoulder to see the drinking bridesmaids along with the groomsmen, hearing them chatter with incredible excitement, trying on glistening heels and jet-black dressy shoes. Everything seems to be perfect, like it comes out of a movie, and there are two outcasts in the background. Getting his camera, one that she has noticed him using to film the preparations of the wedding, he starts recording with a smile on his face, taking his time to get a good shot.

“What are you recording?” She doesn’t realize that she is practically pressing her chest to his back, resting her chin on his shoulder to see the screen that displays a moment to be remembered.

“The wedding preparations. I had to make a speech but I decided to leave that to someone else and edit a video.” He chuckles at his words, as if there is something funny in that. When his neck turns to have his eyes looking at her, she thinks there is so much care in them. Beauty is one thing, but feeling like he protects her from one gaze is something she is not used to. Her mind is set on doing everything on her own, a lone individual in between seas of people. “I just so happen to have a lot of footage of you.”

Smacking his shoulder, she argues: “I hope it is good footage.”

“The perks of having such a good filmmaker right in front of you is that they are very nice.” He conquers, pride blooming from his words before his shoulders shake slightly with his laughter. “…And…it is always good footage if you’re there.”

For a brief moment, she wonders if this is the time where they actually become friends or the moment she realizes that all along, this entire time, all she has wished for him is to…to like her. Like her how she likes him, absentmindedly and purely, from afar but also so close, having both worlds in their hands. Good and less good, because nothing is bad with them; Kun Hang is a memory she will remember on the day of her death, a man who’ll bring all the shades of him to the room with his blossoming excitement. However, she can’t express that, instead opting to go for the safest, quite lame response and it goes along the lines of:

“Thank you for the jacket. It’s very sweet of you to do this.”

What she means, though, is an entirely different thing.

📹

“Stop recording me as I’m eating a slice of Red Velvet cake.”

“Don’t break the fourth wall for the viewers.”

“What viewers, Kun Hang?!” Now, with her fork dangling from her fingers and her mouth trying to chew on the juicy, delicious, very colorful red velvet, she finally turns to look at him and that infamous camera that he holds in between his hands. It is directly aimed at her, now more shameless than ever, two days away from Valentine’s Day and also, the day of his cousin’s wedding. The getaway is simple, some dinner and dessert to celebrate the couple’s bachelor party. Weird, staged, completely their style and yet, she doesn’t regret cramping more studying in the afternoon to be able to have such delicious meals. “…Oh shit, I forget you’re actually going to air this at the wedding. Don’t you dare put this in.”

Blame it on sugar high, but Kun Hang is a thousand times bolder when his cheeks are red and he is eating yet another slice of those volcano chocolate treats that everyone has been talking about. “Can’t blame me for recording the most interesting person in this event.” He tells her as a matter of fact, with all the width of his chest like he is not even ashamed to say it. At this point, he may not; in between the constant pizza getaways, the texts, the shared smiles and the practices, she doesn’t think there is a line in between them anymore. It is insanely scary, not because of him, but because of the situation. One day, Kun Hang will mean more than he ever has—as a friend, as the person she lost after this wedding, whatever his title is going to be after that. It is the effects of talking back to someone, of returning whatever interest he has in her, friendly or not. “Anything to say about the Red Velvet? Did you like their last album?”

“Huh?” After taking a few minutes to understand his joke, she laughs softly. “Is that the best joke you have?”

“Yeah, sorry, don’t even listen to me.”

Slicing some of the Red Velvet, she feels like she is going to regret ever getting close to him, alone in their shared table while everyone else is dancing, chatting, doing whatever it is that this bachelor party is about. Or not, she may not even regret this at all. This is the magic of him as an irony, making her believe something before her own mind twists around its axis. She brings the fork closer to him, watching as his lips part when she feeds him, a little bit of the frosting falling on his lips before he licks it off. “There you go, now you can judge by yourself.”

“That’s the best cake out of all they gave us!” Kun Hang compliments, wrapping his hand around the camera before zooming in and out of her face repeatedly. “To be expected out of our best food critique—”

Placing her hand on the lens, she sighs. “Can you stop zooming in my face like you’re recording a wild animal?”

“Seeing you out of your dorm is already a rarity on its own.”

“Just eat this Red Velvet cake with me before I actually decide to go back to my hibernation.” Though, it is the only time she ever jokes around with matters like that with someone. Staying in her room has always been safety, four walls that understand who she is and never say anything about it—they are unable to, after all, but Kun Hang seems to look past that. As charismatic as he is, he would be able to easily go to the rest of the individuals in that room and bask in a relaxed conversation, hearty and light, but he decides to stay with her. Out of all subjects, he decides to record her.

That, on its own, is a compliment. A perk, out of the many he has.

📹

The sight in front of her may as well be part of her imagination. She is seated at her desk, probably, still daydreaming about the moment that nightly class finishes with a tender conclusion and no homework, enough for her to go back home and actually catch up with sleep, because the constant ache in her eyes is a huge indicator of her tiredness. Instead, the night welcomes her in such a breezy weather once she steps out of the campus, wondering why in the hell her dorms are not closer and why she should walk all the way there—or perhaps, she should take a taxi, but would that be considered lazy given that it’s just three blocks away?

Yet, the night spits him out magically, placed in front of her with each of his legs resting on the sides of his bicycle. In most occasions, people would have laughed—someone his age would probably prefer a motorcycle for the sake of an aesthetic, but Kun Hang is still hanging on to that old bicycle he got as some Christmas present. He shouldn’t have looked half as heavenly as he did, hair moving with the wind, wearing comfortable clothing for the somewhat cold weather and sporting the biggest smile. Through sunrise or sunsets, Kun Hang always seems to be warm, much more when she nears him as she grins on her own accord, trailing her gaze across the bicycle before speaking up.

“I didn’t know you still had that bicycle!”

“I am saving the environment and doing a work-out, I think I’ll keep it for a while.” Something about him different, like worry really made a home out of his brain and he had gotten to where she was as soon as possible. Earlier on the day, she had told Kun Hang her last class would be at nine at night, but she didn’t expect him to ever get close to the college campus. Some people are passing by, but she is concentrated in what he says next. “Get on. I’m taking you home.”

Scoffing, she looks at him instead of inspecting the bicycle. “We’re both getting on your old bicycle just so you can take me home? What if we fall?” She asks, all too serious about anything in life, but Kun Hang looks for the second helmet by his bicycle, tossing it at her so her hands catch it.

“You’re just lucky I am one with speed.”

Maybe, it is stupid. The fact that she gets on the bicycle, hands grasping for him in order to keep herself in place, smiling when Kun Hang actually goes a bit slower to keep her safe, or at least to make her feel like she is so. The wind knocks the air out of her lungs, a huge smile taking over her face as she extends her neck slightly, only to look at the city surrounding them. Kun Hang speaks over the noise, asking about her day and this may be a warning sign from life, telling her that they are far too close now and she is starting to get lost in the feeling of having him there—

But it is not life that is pulling them together anymore, they are in the same space at the same time whenever they want to. The warning sign should be that this is her decision now, no longer letting everything go but simply deciding to stay by his side. Where are the perks in that?

📹

I procrastinated. Sorry I can’t give you your gift today.

What?

Just…what?

This is not the message she should be getting when she is walking to a beauty salon with the rest of the bridesmaids, when her stress is up the roof with how Yu Yan is basically screaming to everyone’s faces, complaining about even the smallest of things. The messages stare back at her with confusion and the question previously asked definitely goes back in the form of a text. Valentine’s Day is at its peak, people going around with big bouquets, chocolates and busy lives, probably uniting a day between professional life and love. On the other hand, she is living romance through the mind of a petty bride that does not want her hair to even look remotely tussled in any single way, basically having the worker re-do everything they had done before. Everyone else is at the verge of insanity, too.

For a few hours, she doesn’t even check her phone, but she does wonder what kind of gift she could get from Kun Hang. Valentine’s Day is not necessarily…for friends, though it can be, and she is trying to make herself believe that it is something Kun Hang wants to give her for their new connection, not something that lingers with a warm feeling of the culture of love. But it is there, the anticipation, the wonder of what kind of gift she could be getting from him and the message remains unanswered to when she gets out of the salon, hair done and now ready to get her dress on and fix the case of runny lipstick if necessary.

It is when she is nearing her dorms when she hears her phone going off with a text, not once but twice, but then again, she has more important things to do than sit down and reply to the text. On the other hand, it could be a very important e-mail for a project, but she tries to ignore it as she goes up the stairs. Her thighs are aching, head thumping and worries booming with the need of going back home, slipping in the covers and forgetting this wedding even exists, that in five hours to be exact, she is going to be in a wedding and an hour after that, she is going to be dancing some salsa song with Kun Hang.

...The name immediately makes her check her phone.

The grip on her phone is too clammy, too tight, instead opting to click on the video he sent her after saying ‘Finished it!’ in a text. If this is his gift, then it may as well be a long one, over seven minutes of a recording making it look like tough work. Her eyes focus on the filter on top of the recordings, all things that they had gone through for the past month. The way she laughs is what is presented first, cringing at the sight of her laughing at one of the groomsman’s jokes, and Kun Hang was far away to perceive it. Soon after, their conversations are the ones that are being recorded, from the ones they had in the changing room to many they had during practice, where his camera would just gravitate towards her. In there, she notices the adoration in his voice, the sweet tone in which he starts his sentences and how it never dies down.

What she doesn’t expect is to see some pictures scattered at the end, places in which they had been at the same time but they had never connected. Birthday parties, to be exact, in which Kun Hang was leaning over the couch she was seated at, trying to get a glimpse of her work only to have her smiling. They were far too young, too lost in their own thoughts to even wonder what it was that united them…and now, she really sees that Kun Hang has always wanted to be there, desired to get closer but never needed it. Unlike her, whose roses of love bloomed from a textbook, whose favorite romances came from movies, someone who has only thought of the warning signs of crushing on someone, the downfall, knowing how bad it is on its own, but she has never seen its perks.

The perks of liking someone in return. Softly, decidedly, like she means it with her entire heart.

It is cheesy, definitely, she cringes when Kun Hang goes as far as asking her out with simple text at the end of the video—a simple date, he asks for, and she hates that he has gone to this extent to get her attention, but he did. That’s just his style. Obnoxiously charming.

Just…that’s Wong Kun Hang, the utmost form of himself, and she wouldn’t trade him for anyone else. A lover boy, he is, and now it seems he is one for her.

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wrestlingwithhistory · 3 years

Text

Why do I like Pro Wrestling?

Even though I’ve put a few posts up on the page already I wanted to introduce myself a little and break down why I’m doing this and give a bit of history about me and why I like pro wrestling.

My name is Kyle, I’m 33 from South Wales, I am married with 2 children. I first started watching wrestling when I was about 7 which I will go into as we go through the post. I started this blog for 2 reasons.

1. I love stories about pro-wrestling and wrestling itself.

2. I am starting a creative writing course and want to keep on top of writing so that I am comfortable with writing as I haven’t done it since I was in school.

Now, there are a million stories from Pro Wrestling that you’ve heard from the Benoit Murders to The Montreal Screwjob to The Plane Ride from Hell, but I have an interest in writing about the stories that people are maybe not as aware of that still involve some of the biggest names in Wrestling history.

Nowadays, we can be thankful as wrestling fans that we have a multitude of ways that we could watch wrestling thanks to the rise of streaming sites, Youtube and online stores which you can buy DVD’s or digital copies of your favourite events. Being a child of the 90’s, you would stumble across wrestling almost out of nowhere. I remember being in my grandparents’ house maybe aged 5 or 6. I never had satellite or cable TV growing up, only terrestrial, and coming in one morning and seeing Hulk Hogan on the TV in my grandparents’ house really caught my attention. I couldn’t tell you what show it was or who else was on it, but I remember as I watched Hogan, waving his arms to the crowd and cupping his ears to the Hulkamaniacs as he did throughout his career, that I held a curiosity toward wrestling and did ever since.

I can then remember a few years later one of my best friends growing up had a video at home which on the cover, a man would be fighting himself! Undertaker vs Undertaker. Back then, it was the most amazing thing possible, the mystery of how a wrestler could square off against himself in the ring was unimaginable for a then 7–8-year-old. Of course, that event being Summerslam 94 would not be the great event you look back on, but you appreciate the spectacle of it. I do look back fondly on that VHS and as I watch the event back, the standout match-up is clearly the Owen Hart vs Bret Hart Steel cage match, but it’s not the type of thing you value as a child.

You value spectacle. You value entertainment. At least I did anyway. You treat it the same way you treat a cartoon or movie, you suspend your disbelief for a few moments and take in the pageantry of it all. Some people class Wrestling as 3rd hand entertainment, and I have had many occasions where people have made jokes of the fact I watch wrestling, to the point where I would not even mention it if asked.

But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to not care and be happy with the fact I like it so much. It’s not a guilty pleasure, It’s just a pleasure. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve also embraced less of the spectacle side of it I once did and look at the athletic feats that take place in the ring, focusing on the technique that these men have to make it look as dangerous as possible, all the while keeping their opponent safe. I do still appreciate the entertainment value, but I definitely look at things like the work rate of the competitors and what they are capable of.

During my teens, we used to travel to video store not too far away from us in a town called Bargoed. Global Video was one of the first places to stock ECW VHS cassettes. My friends Daniel, Josh and I would go there, pick out a few VHS and go back to Josh’s room to watch them. One of the first ones I can remember watching was Living Dangerously 1999. For its time, the pacing and the layout of the matches were a perfect fit for that show. I remember thoroughly enjoying Tajiri vs Super Crazy, Sid and Spike Dudley vs The Dudley Boyz and also New Jack vs Mustafa which was enough violence for a teenage to endure at that point.

The one match from that event which today I place in my top 10 matches ever is Rob Van Dam vs Jerry Lynn for the TV Title. Watching the opening exchange between the two men figure each other out, reversals of pins, hammerlocks and wristlocks was fantastic and when they separated and looked at each other, it was rapturous. The crowd ate it up. You could tell something special was taking place. As the match continued, I saw things that I never would have seen on WWF during that time realistically speaking. There was a reason the E stood for Extreme in ECW. They always took things to the next level, and while the TV Title was far from being the most brutal match on the card (in part due to New Jack!) it was creative in the way it structured the use of weapons, tablet spots and fighting outside the ring. When the bell rings at the end for a timer limit draw, as a first-time viewer you feel almost cheated, not by the quality of the match but by the fact it could have gone on for another 30 mins. When Jerry Lynn requests 5 more minutes and is granted it, you think you are in for a Jerry Lynn victory but RVD pulls it out of the bag at the end hitting the 5-star Frog Splash. And great ending to a great match.

Throughout this time the Attitude era was in full affect. WWF had a huge roster of stars that any company would have been proud to have, Stone-Cold Steve Austin, The Rock, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Kurt Angle. It was a pleasure to watch some of these events. My friend Michael would record Raw and later Smackdown and let us borrow the tapes so we could get our fix. In January 2000, Channel 4 had gotten a deal to show a few WWF Pay-per-views for free starting with the Royal Rumble. I stayed at Daniel’s house and we watched it live on a small TV. We were extra excited that Taz showed up on the event to face Kurt Angle with an extra ‘Z’ in his name, especially after find ECW a few months previous. Add to that the shock factor of Mae Young’s striptease, the Rumble result, the street fight between Cactus Jack and Triple H, the tables match between the Dudleys and Hardys, it was a phenomenal show.

With the events now being on Channel 4, I would look eagerly on internet forums during school hours trying to find out which ones were next. I remember staying up and watching Backlash 2000 and Fully Loaded of that year, also recording them to go back and watch and study the matches. I would cover the back of the VHS case with white stickers and write the match card on the back in order, so I knew where to find my favourites. They also stared showing Sunday Night Heat as well, which I later years would also have an RVD vs Jerry Lynn match up but not at the same quality as the ECW Event the years previous. These events on Channel 4 ended with the Invasion PPV in 2001 after WWE bought WCW and ECW acquiring many, but not all of their top stars.

Tying this in with Video games like WWF Attitude, Smackdown, WCW/NWO Revenge, WCW Mayhem it helped nurture my love for it even more especially WWE Smackdown 2: Know Your Role because you can create your own shows, wrestlers and storylines. We would have nights playing the game having Royal Rumbles and tournaments, finding how to create wrestlers from online forums like CAWs.ws.

My friend Daniel got the internet at home and we would spend hours searching Kazaa for wrestling videos we couldn’t find on VHS, in-between searching for Create-a-Wrestler guides for Smackdown games. They would usually be the Music Video highlight reels of matches we would want to see. Being early 2000’s it was usually set to Creed, Godsmack or Limp Bizkit but it would be things like Sabu vs RVD in a stretcher match, seeing Goldberg jackhammer The Giant/Big Show, and whatever we could find of these old matches you would read about in Power Slam magazine like the Exploding Barb Wire matches involving Mick Foley, Terry Funk and Onita.

A few years later, with the introduction of freeview satellite there was now more channels in homes than before and one of those was The Wrestling Channel. I turned it to this station thinking it would be WWE but was amazed to see companies more similar to ECW. US Promotions Ring of Honor, Combat Zone Wrestling, TNA/NWA and a few smaller based promotions were present as well as a mix of local British talent. It was on this channel that I first saw a match that involved light tubes, obviously CZW. Although not my favourite style, death matches certainly have a car crash factor to them. You know something gruesome is going to happen, but you can’t look away. But on the opposite of that, with ROH you got to see unbelievable work rate wrestling with the likes of CM Punk, Samoa Joe, Bryan Danielson and Low Ki and with TNA similar talents but with more professional looking, AJ Styles, Teddy Hart and Jeff Jarrett being stars that shone there.

Getting to see high flying stars like Amazing Red, Jack Evans, Teddy Hart, AJ Styles was enthralling. It was a side of pro wrestling you never saw on the more methodical WWE and I would watch whenever possible but still getting my WWE fix via VHS recordings Michael would lend us, especially as some of our favourites from ECW and WCW were now competing there.

From around 2006, I began to wane off watching Wrestling as often. I was playing in a band and focusing on that was well as starting a relationship with my now wife. My band mates Lloyd and Ryan were into Wrestling, so I used to and still do talk to them about it now and then. We used to go to local wrestling shows in Merthyr Tydfil for Celtic Wrestling. Back then, they were just Joe Nobodies wrestling in a bar, but as I look back over many of the people on that show, they have foundations on Wrestling all over the world.

A list of some of the names I got to see in Merthyr Tydfil; Sheamus – Now WWE, Steve Corino – ECW Legend, Zack Sabre Jr – Current New Japan star, Tracy Smothers – Wrestling Journeyman passed away in 2020. I remember seeing Tracy Smothers and I was a fan from ECW when he was with FBI and he was great and a nice guy after the show too. The fact that someone who was wrestled for WWE, ECW and WCW was in Merthyr wrestling, to me was mind-blowing!

A few months later I found out they were doing Wrestling training at The Studio Bar in Merthyr in around 2008 (could be way off), so I went along. I didn’t tell anyone, I got dressed in football gear and told my girlfriend Sara I was off to play football. Instead, I went into this bar and rolled around on some mats for beginner lessons on a Wednesday learning basic holds and how to bump. I really enjoyed it and it was better than bumping on the grass like I used to do as a kid in my local park. I went twice in all, as much as I wanted to go back and keep going, I was thinking that playing music would be easier to justify to someone than saying you were a wrestler so that was that.

I always kept an eye on wrestling but not as intently as I did before, maybe it was my way of disconnecting from wanting to do it as much as I did. I would watch the odd Raw or Smackdown and just buy the Big 4 Pay-per-Views and this went on for close on 8 years, just dipping in and out casually but still knowing who was in the business and doing things else were. We still had TNA in the UK so getting to see that was great, especially with the talent they had there for a while.

It wasn’t until 2016 I started to get back into wrestling as much as I do now. AJ Styles had finally joined WWE after seeming he would never appear there and that interested me because AJ is probably one of my favourites of all time. Twitter was blowing up because of a match between Will Ospreay and Ricochet in the Best of Super Juniors during that year. Seeing mostly positive comments and the odd one or two negative comments from old school wrestlers. So, I clicked on a then Youtube video of the match and it was such a great match. I felt the buzz straight away and immediately started to get the itch back for watching wrestling again.

I had no experience of much Japanese wrestling, but I always enjoyed reading in magazines about people like Jyushin Thuder Liger and The Great Muta and seeing their matches on WCW years ago, as well as people like Taka Michinoku and Tajiri but the Ospreay-Ricochet match convinced me to sign up to NJPW World. That summer I followed the G1 closely. Bullet Club madness was in full effect, seeing the iconic t-shirts and the way they were in the ring were similar to NWO, almost too much to a fault. I didn’t really know any of the performers in the tournament but after watching matches, would go back through the New Japan archives and watch the matches of Okada, Tanahashi, Naito, Shibata and the others, getting to know their styles and gimmicks.

One that immediately jumped out to me was Kenny Omega. He was one of 4 non-Japanese wrestlers (Gaijin) in the whole tournament. I learned that he had turned on AJ Styles and took over as leader of Bullet Club. I went back and watched AJ’s final matches against Nakamura at Wrestle Kingdom 10, and then the tag match the following night between AJ and Kenny vs Nakamura and Yoshi-Hashi. I followed Kenny closely over the G1 and into the finals against Hirooki Goto which was an absolutely brilliant match. Omega ended up winning, going onto Wrestle Kingdom 11 to face Okada for the IWGP Heavyweight Championship. I checked my work diary to see if I had work that day, and I was off! Due to the time differences, I was able to catch some of the pre-show in the morning, drop my oldest daughter off to school and come back in time for the Naito-Tanahashi and Omega-Okada matches.

I got back and watched the Naito-Tanahashi match, a really fantastic match to which I remember saying to myself ‘the main event is going to need to be special to top that’. Cue watching my personal favourite match of all time. The pacing and the psychology of the match were so well done, Omega targeting Okada’s back ready for the One-Winged Angel but never getting to hit it through the match. The springboard moonsault to the outside over the guard rails, the Tope Con Hilo over the top which still holds one of the iconic images of the match as a whole, Okada’s resilience as a champion, back dropping Omega over the top rope to the outside through a table. It was and is incredible, debatably one of the greatest matches of all time. Not just in my opinion but for many others as well. And so, I was back in. From that point onwards, I was an ardent fan once again. I would use the archives of WWE Network, NJPW World, Youtube, Highspots Wrestling Network to feed my addiction, following twitter pages which is just GIF after GIF of just the craziest moves.

I would try and watch as many of the live shows in Japan as possible to watch Omega perform and throughout 2017, even though it probably could have been savoured a bit more, we got to see 2 more amazing Omega-Okada matches at both Dominion and G1 and also a lead to Omega-Jericho for WK12. Both my current favourite and my all-time favourite meeting for the first time for a great match. From a Kenny standard it was not as good as some of his previous but for Jericho it was probably one of his best even compared against some of his classics against the likes of Shawn Michaels and Chris Benoit.

In the Summer of 2018, I watched the Dominion show where again Kenny Omega went up against Kazuchika Okada for the IWGP Heavyweight championship. It was a 2 out of 3 falls match with no time limit. I couldn’t get the time off work for the event so I managed to smuggle my phone into work and would watch intently while selling mobile phones. It was another amazing match up, but I had to watch it over again after finishing work so that I could experience with sound, but even on silent, you could feel how brilliant the match was and Kenny finally defeated Okada for the title. Even though Kenny won it, I much preferred him fighting from beneath, almost as if achieving the pinnacle of wrestling was never going to happen. Even though he had a good handful of matches as champion, the ensuing AEW venture obviously scrapped any possibility of a long-term reign. Also disappointing to see New Japan miss a trick by letting Ibushi win the G1 and then the title from Kenny at WK13, instead vying for Tanahashi who, for as great a performer as he is, was not in his prime and the story between Ibushi-Omega would have been concluded or at least cliffhung until a later date. That aside, the show killed. It was amazing, but you could see the writing was on the wall in terms of Omega, the Young Bucks, Adam Page leaving to start AEW in 2019.

That kind of takes it up to current day, or at least as close to it as possible. It was possibly a long-winded diatribe of saying ‘Yeah, I like Wrestling’ but I hope it helps people to understand what drives me to write about it, why I enjoy watching this often joked about form of entertainment and why I think people could probably appreciate it more.

My messages are open if anyone wants to ask me any questions about wrestling or share stories about your own experiences, favourite matches or even stories that you would like me to cover, and I will try and find something to contribute to the page if possible.

Please read through the posts, like and share if you enjoy and leave comments if you wish to appreciate, critique or contribute towards the stories if you know anything I may have missed out.

Thanks!

#wrestlingwithhistory #wrestling #wwe #njpw #aew #ecw #roh #czw #wcw

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