#like i blacked out all day and suddenly this was being composited in after effects

[rileyclaw]

i caught hunter’s moving castle disease because of mike’s huntlow art

[sneakydraws]

Well, here it is - a lengthy explanation of each card in my mdzs major arcana deck and what I meant to convey/what i would have changed in retrospect/what alternatives i considered! It’s a bit messy and my typing style is lazy but hopefully it will be an interesting read to some of you :)

And so you don’t say I didn’t warn you - jiang cheng’s section (11 justice) is absurdly long lmao

0 the fool  I elaborated on this in the post itself but yeah basically jin ling is kind of representative of all the damage and trauma caused by the past, and there’s a kind of danger there of him falling victim to the same vices as the older characters and repeating the same mistakes and perpetuating the cycle of war and misery (the cycle that we already see with how the jin sect became the new wen sect, and later with how jgy became the new wwx) and he has a lot of room to grow! He grows so much over the course of the novel, comes to realise the complexities of the past and gets a harsh life lesson in how nothing is as black and white as it seems. But ill save talking about his progress for the end, for now whats important is that he has room to grow and also a dog. I don’t really have a justification for the sun, i mostly just thought it looked sick? It made its way to the next card as well, where it makes a bit more sense, but then i realised it was a dumb motif to include 1 the magician I still very much like wwx for the role, and that illustration would have probably had him raising a corpse on his left and pointing threateningly to the sun on his right. I considered including the table as well, with some mdzs relevant items replacing the card suits. Anyway, like i said wwx got a few cards to himself already so i went with the alternative wq design, since i think she fits the card as well. Both she and wwx are highly skilled people, extremely driven once they set their mind to something. The card to me symbolises the creative mind as well as a general drive for action, which fits them both - wwx was famously a prolific inventor, and wq came up with a previously unheard of surgery, after all. This card strays pretty far from the rider-waite deck design, largely because i was still figuring out how i wanted to approach this series, but you can still see the influence. 2 the high priestess I was actually going to skip this card at first because I couldn’t think of a fitting character, but once i considered a qings character post death, it all fit pretty well. She was already a highly intuitive person in life, and in sharing her memories with wwx she is, in a way, relaying a kind of secret knowledge. Anyway she’s one of my fav characters so im glad i got a chance to include her. The coffins could be interpreted to be xxc and sl or xxc and xy 3 the empress Theres other mother figures in mdzs who got to be mothers for a longer time, but jyl definitely embodies the positive aspects of this card the best. She’s nurturing, kind, emotionally supportive, she already mothered wwx and jc quite a bit when she was young. Plus i liked that the rw card had both water and flowers, making an easy lotus connection. In retrospect the stars look kind of out of place and i should have replaced them with something more relevant... Also, i should have had her hold a lotus seed pod instead of a flower, haha 4 the emperor Like i said I considered jc for the role but hoching bullied me into admitting that nmj was better… they’re both more of an inverted emperor than an upright one but then again theres hardly any character in mdzs who would fit upright emperor so. Jgs was also considered but he’s even uglier than nmj so i couldn’t bear to draw him 5 the hierophant It was pointed out to me that lqr would have fit this card better and the truth if that statement haunts me to this day. Unfortunately I have no space in my brain for lqr so lxc got the role instead. My main reason was his role during the wen destruction of gusu lan, when he ran away with the contents of the library - this is why there’s bookshelves behind him. The keys, take, from the rider-waite deck, are meant to represent the gusu pendants that allow you to enter 6 the lovers Im sure many people would have chosen wangxian here but I uhh don’t really care abt wangxian personally? And also their love story is so convoluted that jyl and jzx seem idyllic by comparison lol. Also i didnt really have an idea for who to put in the angel’s place for wangxian… mme jin certainly did not get these two together in the end but undeniably she and mme yu did initially give them a chance to fall for each other so. Thats something i guess. Anyway the trees became their sects’ flowers and the mountain became the burial grounds - an omen of their tragic fate, basically 7 the chariot There might have been other characters who fit this card better but i couldn’t really think of another card for lwj and i thought it would be weird to not include him… anyway i don’t really care for current timeline lwj BUT i do like that he was clearly influenced by wwx to walk his own path in life based on his moral convictions rather than follow his sect’s rules blindly. The chariot is to me a card of self control, self determination and focused action, so it seemed fitting. The composition felt kind of empty without the actual chariot so i padded it out with the guqin, the cloud recess in the bg (it doesn’t look great but i tried to replicate the drama design….) and the bunnies which conveniently fit the colour scheme of the sphinxes in the rider-waite design 8 strength Like i said before, my interpretation of this card is more… morally ambiguous than the quote unquote official meaning, so i thought about manipulative or duplicitous characters more than kind characters whose strength is expressed through gentleness (though i did consider jyl briefly for the latter interpretation). As such, i considered both jgy and nhs, but ended up going with jgy largely because i couldn’t pass up the opportunity to put the nie sect’s beast as the lion. 9 the hermit My thoughts immediately went to bssr lol. It may be an overly literal interpretation but whatever, i like it just fine. And i like that i managed to echo the rider-waite silhouette in the mountain and the tree (and even in bssr herself) 10 wheel of fortune God i love the parallels between these 2… this card to me is about how you cant trust your current situation, good or bad, to last forever, and these 2 embody that perfectly imo. Wwx went from son of a well off servant and a powerful cultivator, to street rat orphan, to adopted son of sect leader jiang, to double orphan, to MIA, to terrifying but admired warrior, to terrifying and despised traitor, to dead, to, at the very end, suddenly respected and trusted again. The dishonesty and cheapness of whatever the public’s current opinion of him is is portrayed beautifully as far as im concerned. And jgy of course claws his way up to power only to instantaneously become public enemy number one, to the point that he’s probably blamed for stuff there’s no reason to believe he had a hand in. Wei wuxian’s silent astonishment at how quickly the cultivation world turns against jgy and towards him again is a delicious moment of thematic resonance.  11 justice I settled on this card for jc after he got booted from the emperor seat but i do think it fits, in a somewhat convoluted way. I turned both the sword and the scales into visual representations of the golden core transfer (can you tell im obsessed with it). According to biddy tarot, the justice card is partly about searching for the truth, and the scene where jc finds out about the transfer is of course a big deal. I was also very influenced by the reversed meaning again - which is about being reluctant or unwilling to face or accept the consequences of your actions. I feel on an intuitive level that this fits jc but I’m not sure how well i can explain it - it’s something about how he’s a little too comfortable scapegoating wwx for things that were also, if much less so, influenced by his actions, and also something about the way he keeps wwx at an arm’s length emotionally but still leans on him and accepts his support when he really needs it, and somewhat hypocritically expects wwx to put the needs of him and the jiang sect before the needs of others. And also something about the core exchange is the consequence and proof of wwx’s deep - terrifyingly deep, even - love and care for him, which is something jc doesn’t seem to let himself acknowledge. Maybe even something about how you could argue that the way all of the jiangs acted around wwx - jfm’s favouritism that left him with the feeling of a debt he needs to repay, mme yus insistence that he be a servant more than a brother to jc, prepared to give his life for jc, and jc’s own unwillingness - or inability, he was a child after all - to clearly acknowledge wwx as an equal to himself, enabling wwx’s self sacrificial and protective tendencies - that all of this was what caused wwx’s complete and unquestioning willingness to do whatever it took to protect jc, and therefore paved the way to the golden core transfer. And i don’t mean this to be scapegoating jc - especially considering how young he was when this all went down, it wouldn’t be fair to expect this level of emotional perceptiveness, awareness and maturity of him - but i think adult jc has to grapple with the fact that the chain of cause and effect was not as simple as wwx fucking everyone’s lives up to be a martyr, and that both jc and his parents had a role in that story as well. I don’t even necessarily think this is something that jc only realised in the current timeline - i think it’s something he felt on some level this whole time, and it probably led to a lot of feelings of guilt - but the suibian reveal definitely puts it in sharp focus, and i think he’s now better equipped to handle this introspection than he was as a recently orphaned, traumatised teenager, lol. ANYWAY the window with the fabric is both a nod to the rider-waite design and a reference to the destruction of lanling - i actually did some basic ass research for this, and it seems that in ancient china fabric would indeed be hanged in a window if the normally used paper was damaged. The design of the window, as well as the very idea to use it to imply the reconstruction of lanling, was taken from this great piece of jc angst by my pal moroll1! Oh yeah also the covered window kind of works as a denial of forgiveness for jc because it’s like a halo but covered up... Also I completely forgot to put a blindfold over his eyes which would be perfectttt because blind justice and the core exchange......... ok moving on 12 the hanged man I always have issues with this card because i cant find a satisfactory summary of what it’s really about. Best i can tell it symbolises a need to hit pause, surrender or let go of something… ive also seen it tied to sacrifice? So mo xuanyu doesn’t fit perfectly, but sacrifice is definitely there in a surface level reading kind of way, and the idea that you have to surrender or let go in order to achieve your goal does fit the whole deal of getting revenge but giving up your life in exchange and not being there to see it 13 death This is probably one of my favourite cards, definitely not because I have huge issues with change or anything…. I see this card as signalling the necessity of change or putting an end to something / leaving something in the past in order to start anew? At first i considered putting past wwx, mxy and current wwx here as a kind of transformation and one cycle flowing into the next... But firstly, I’d already used mxy in the very previous card, so putting him in again would feel like overkill, and secondly, the longer I thought about it the less convinced I was that this would even fit with the card’s meaning? Because coming back from the dead doesn’t like... trigger an internal transformation within wwx or anything? Anyway, fun fact: the design I ended up going with was actually originally intended for judgement! I thought I was being very clever with the whole “figure plays an instrument and the dead rise” parallel, but apparently I’d just completely forgotten that the judgement card had a completely different composition... Truly I was boo boo the fool... But yeah anyway at the end of the day I figured the design would kind of work for death as well, with Wen Ning and the theme of transformation, (since in his case coming back as a fierce corpse does actually mark a certain transformation in behaviour) and Wei Wuxian’s protection of the Wen people essentially signifying an attempt to break the cycle of oppression if that makes any sense? Like, wwx is trying to revolutionise the way the world works a bit, if you catch my drift 14 temperance  The centrist card! Again this is probably going off track from the “official” interpretation, but to me this card has a certain “don’t commit fully; do everything in moderation; don’t take either side” flavour to it that i personally find infuriating irl and that i very much assign to lxc. It’s entirely possible that I’m misinterpreting his character because i didn’t really pay him (and the 3zun in general) much mind while reading, but hell, I’m allowed to pick favourites and choose who i want to interpret deeply vs shallowly. Again, i wish id chosen lqr for hierophant because its so annoying for a character i don’t care about to get two cards…. But oh well 15 the devil My alternative idea for this was jgy as the devil and lxc plus nmj as the figures, but since all three had been featured already (multiple times, even!) i figured I’d go with xy instead, especially since he’s among my faves lol. I think the devil signifies something along the lines of unhealthy attachment, obsession or addiction, which isn’t 100% accurate in the case of xxc and a-qing, but if i stretch it a bit to cover toxic relationships in general, and especially manipulation or negative influence, i don’t think it’s half bad. My main struggle here was to choose who amongst the xxc/sl/aq trio to choose for the human figures. 16 the tower Arguably jin zixuans death and the following massacre of nightless city were the final and most direct reason for the siege of burial mounds, and the tiger seal is good shorthand for wwx’s loss of control over his powers, which led to the deaths of jzx and jyl. When reimagining major arcana i like to feature some kind of building in this card (spoilers for a possible future project but in my rose of versailles major arcana set the tower is bastille) and even if it’s not a tower, the image of wwx looming over the gathered crowd from atop a rooftop is so good i couldn’t resist 17 the star Struggled with this one - considered both jin ling and lsz for it, as symbolising a hope for the future, but that was kind of covered by the world so it wouldn’t make sense to include here as well... As usual when I struggle with interpreting a card (as opposed to understanding it but struggling with matching a character to it, like with death or moon) I went to biddy tarot and read all the details about its meaning. What i got was that this card signifies an incoming period of introspection and inner peace following a time of turmoil, as well as a general moving on into a new, better phase of one’s life or finding new meaning and purpose. The figure also suggests someone vulnerable, but possessing a keen sense of intuition as well as a good degree of practicality and common sense. Given all those, I settled for mianmian because IM LOVE HER..... I also kind of see her as a prelude to the “just one person is enough” theme present in tgcf!! And i think her decision to abandon her sect because she saw the toxicity and corruption in it is a very inspiring action - even if it didn’t make a large visible impact, i think the appearance of her and her idyllic family at the very end of the novel - paralleling and mirroring wangxian - implies that at the end of the day, it was a meaningful one 18 the moon Another card i ALWAYS fuxking struggle with - this time less because i can’t grasp its meaning and more because I can never find a character that fits it well. I usually get fixated on the “dreams and subconscious” part, but if i lean more on the “disguise, deceit, anxiety and fear” part, i eventually figured the whole yi city arc wouldn’t be a bad fit. I say the entire arc because it really does encompass all those themes if you include both the past and the present - xue yang’s disguise, his tricks with the villagers, a-qing’s lies and even xxc’s reluctance to talk about his past as well as xue yang pretending to be xxc all fit the disguise and deceit angle, and the general mystery and creepiness of the current timeline yi city work well with the anxiety and fear - the mist, the slow uncovering of the past, even a-qing being revealed to be an ally after scaring the shit out of the protags. I definitely struggled with including all the elements and characters, and even moreso with making them vaguely fit the rider-waite composition, but i think it ended up okay ish. OH and i completely forgot to draw mist swirling around them :( 19 the sun I was considering mianmian’s family for this one, but since I used her for star, I ended up with wwx and his parents instead. Once again I’m reinterpreting the card a bit - normally I think it symbolises incoming times of pure happiness and abundance, as well as a connection with the inner child, but I gave it more of a nostalgic or sentimental twist - wwx looking back at the brief glimpse of his happy childhood. 20 judgement another card that i struggle to interpret a bit... Here i actually used the tgcf tarot zine as a reference! In it judgement is summarised as “rebirth, following duty, absolution” SO i figured that nhs, mxy and wwx all together would fit pretty neatly... wwx achieving (public) absolution through clearing his own name after being reborn, and nhs sort of calling on wwx to expose jgy’s crimes... It’s a bit messy but not bad I think! 21 the world This ties very closely to my read on mdzs as a story - which is that it’s, at the end of the day, largely about cycles, and about how hard it is to break them, but how we gotta keep trying and have hope anyway. Or maybe more precisely, that the people directly involved with and influenced by the trauma of the past might not be able to get over said trauma and that the hope for healing from it will be shouldered by the new generation. Or something like that… Basically what i mean is that jc and wwx and lwj and lxc and nhs and jgy and all these people who were in the thick of the sunshot campaign and the siege are so profoundly affected by it that it genuinely feels by the end of the story like there is little hope for them to ever truly overcome that trauma and build a better future without repeating the same old mistakes - but there is a glimmer of hope in the new generation, specifically in jl and lsz. And it’s a bit paradoxical, because they have also been directly impacted by the past tragedies - lsz having his entire clan wiped out after wwx failed to protect them, jl losing both his parents to wwx’s mistakes - but despite that loss, and despite coming from arguably the two opposing sides of the past conflicts, they are both, in the end, capable of moving past that tragedy, of recognising the complicated nature of those conflicts (jl’s moment of clarity at the end is both heartbreaking and hopeful) and forging friendships between clans in the process. I honestly think that the extra where jl is struggling to assert his authority as sect leader, to treat his subjects well and to cooperate with other sects in a truly amicable way is the single hopeful ending note for the larger themes of the novel - it allows us to imagine that maybe these kids can learn from the mistakes of their elders rather than getting sucked in by resentment at those mistakes, and actually build a brighter future for the cultivation world. And sidenote, this is also why i have a soft spot for jin ling and lan sizhui as a ship... speaking of which their poses were directly referenced from the lovers card ehehe

Looking back, I’d like to add some symbol of jin ling’s trauma so that it mirrors baby wen yuan in the tree stump... maybe his father’s sword? 

[lsobelevans]

Horror tropes? In my Roswell, New mexico? It’s more likely than you think!

In this essay I will...

...be mentioning a few horror/thriller movies and while nothing explicitly gory or scary will be shown in this post, those movies definitely contain scenes and themes that can be disturbing/scary/triggering, do your researches if you’ve got doubts!

...be focusing on the Maria and Alex road-trip, from the moment the car breaks down to the last scene with Travis’ twin. I’m probably going to be led to briefly mention the other scenes that are intertwined with this arc (the echo date and the Planet 7 Kyle and Isobel scene, as well as the marlex car drive when I feel like it is relevant). 

...be approaching specific themes that are used in the scenes that compose this little arc and also more general ones like sound, editing, cinematography and color. 

... be reaching a lot. I do not think everything I will be mentioning is 100% thought-out and voluntary (although you never know). But I’m a firm believer that in filmmaking, yes even inside a CW show, the symbolism comes through subconsciously. So like, maybe they didn’t mean to use corn field as a mark for transition, but it doesn’t take away from the fact that this symbolism works with the story they’re telling and for the journey the characters are in that moment. Additionally, lighting, decor and costumes are always a choice, just like the camera doesn’t position itself randomly, someone’s behind and thinking of the composition of shots that, even if it’s in a basic way, has meaning.

... be starting chronologically but I’ll also make jumps backward and forward, grasping on themes when they come up. Ok, then, let’s dive in! 

This episode references and uses a lot of the iconic mechanisms of the horror movie genre. Alex and Maria’s comfortable road trip atmosphere, open hearted conversation in the car, breaks at the same time as the car itself breaks. The camera, steady so far, the shots following a well known pattern of shot/counter-shot, becomes more unpredictable and shakier and suddenly we’re out of the car, and bam, large shot. 

From the moment they’re out of the car, you won’t be able to see the horizon. Maria and Alex are stuck in a corn field, and they’re stuck in the frame. 

Then poof, Travis appears out of nowhere, accompanied with a pang of music, frightening us and them. Well, more exactly, it cuts on a shot that we’ve seen before without Travis, now with Travis, which gives us the appearing out of nowhere effect. 

Alex says it best.

Well now they’re stuck with a strange guy with an axe, and in a corn field 😬

Hey, have you seen he’s got an axe??? or do you need a close-up???

Okay, this scene ends there. So, let’s take a break and talk about cornfields. There’s many examples of horror movies making use of a field of corn as a location, famously Children of the Corn (1984), Dark Night of the Scarecrow (1995) Signs (2002), that last one also involving, you guessed it, aliens. 

Screenshots from the Signs trailer.

Corn fields are strongly associated with rurality, especially rural America. More largely, they can represent renewal, fertility or abundance. In the contrary, they can be seen as a very ominous location due to their immensity, a labyrinth in which you can’t see very far away and from which you’ll have trouble coming out. 

Although I’m pretty sure Maria’s chase in the cornfield is more of a reference to The Shining (1980) it reminded me of one of my favorite scenes from one of my favorite movies Tom à la ferme (2013), in which Tom is basically held hostage in rural Canada. The corn field chase is a turning point, the last of Tom's attempts to escape. 

Cornfields apparently also often imply scarecrows, which are inherently scary in my opinion but we’ll talk about it more later. 

The next scene takes place inside of Travis' cabin. 

The lighting here is pretty low, the light coming from a few small sources, creating a lot of shadows. The main color is a greenish/yellow which can be associated with nature and earth, rurality, dirty, suffocating. If we look at it, the color scheme of the entire road trip is very much following this pattern of browns/yellows/greens because of the cornfield and the color of the characters costumes (the exception being Maria’s truck which is a bright red). In opposition, the scenes that are intertwined are either blue and orange for Max and Liz or a lot of pink/blues/purples for Isobel and Kyle in planet 7 (bi bi bi).

The cabin is messy, supposedly reflecting the state of the owner’s mind. We get a nice close-up on meat + a knife and all of the creepy skins on the walls. Also, it’s noticeable that from this moment on, the camera is shakier, we experience different angles too. 

We are given many visual clues that something is wrong. 

I’m gonna pass on the sound of the sound of the cow parodying a werewolf + the vampire diaries inside joke. 

Btw, if the fact that Travis names his cows -- that he skins for a living -- like human women isn’t enough for you to think mmmm. we are in danger. Well, don’t worry. The cw spells it out for you!!

We know Alex! We got contextual clues!

Right after this, Alex and Maria make another direct reference to being in a horror movie situation. 

ALEX: This is why I don’t like horror films. The gay guy always dies first.

MARIA: ???? 

ALEX: Or... second. Okay, that’s fair. That look, that’s fair. 

I think this bit is interesting, because not only does it denounce an horror movie cliché (the black person of the cast dies first, the queer person is second) but also in this situation I believe it can be see as kind of a callout on the fandom’s behavior that i’m not gonna spell out for you but yeah. Fellow queer people, don’t forget you’re not the only one who is sometimes badly/unfairly represented. 

Moving on. In the next scene, Alex is searching the cabin for clues, and we are also given some about Travis. 

Either he has a twin brother or he’s got a framed picture of himself on his wall. Oh, and he’s military.

Then Travis startles Alex and plays a little bit of banjo, which is a good excuse to stop and talk about music. The show uses a lot of diegetic music aka music that is present in the universe of the story, that the characters can also hear. It justify the use of said music and it ties the audio with the picture.

The banjo already is heard at the very beginning of the arc during a cut from the planet 7 scene to the road trip scene. We get a few notes that indicate a change of scenery and that helps smooth up the transition, and I’m pretty sure it was also supposed to be diegetic music coming from Maria’s radio. The banjo, like the corn field, is super linked with rurality and rural America (again!)

Another reference of the banjo in horror/thriller would be Deliverance (1972).

I can’t not think of this movie when I hear banjo unfortunately. 

The way Travis plays, aggressively bad, and while singing I Think We’re Alone Now, is supposed to make you think about that scene in The Umbrella Academy be quite unsettling, another point for isolation horror. 

So sweet of Travis to attack Alex with a guitar, and then a smol knife, and not with the axe <3. 

Then we’ve got a traveling zoom-in (or equivalent I’m not sure it isn’t a steady-cam here but the effect is the same) on Maria. This kind of effect can feel a little bit over-the-top and dramatic, in a old genre movie kind of way. It is usually used to bring the audience in, make it feel like you’re evolving in the same universe as the characters (here you’re walking toward Maria). In a scene where you should feel scared, it can be a mean to make you feel more engaged, as well as underlining Maria’s expression, her fear. In my opinion, this is also a way to tell you that from now on, Maria is the main character of this arc, the one that you will be following after the commercial break (that occurs right after) and making it more suspenseful. 

The scene after the break is the start of the corn-field chase. Travis steps out of the cabin, the cuts are faster, many close-shots, some even out of focus, that accelerate the rhythm, and a long fade-in of a new song: a modern, electronic song (Kim Petra’s Close You Eyes) completely in opposition with the acoustic banjo and with the atmosphere of the scene, which makes it strange and makes you think oh, what a weird choice! (at least it did for me lol). The lyrics, however, go very well with the scene. 

I feel it coming on You've got nowhere to run There's no way you'll make it out alive

Yep. 

We find out right after that the music is in fact diegetic but for Isobel and Kyle, it’s another use of music to ease a transition between 2 scenes that are different in every possible way. 

Now, the corn-field chase. As I mentioned before, I believe it’s a direct reference to The Shining’s ending chase scene where Jack Torrance chases his son Danny through a vegetal labyrinth with an axe. 

From the shots to the lighting (from behind or on the side, making the characters look like silhouettes) both scenes are very similar. Also, Travis is styled like Jack Nicholson ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Oh look, Michael’s here to save the day!

Oh well, guess not. 

Yeah, in this scene, and like we’ve been shown before, Maria is going to be the one that saves everyone. The racist cliché of the black character dying first in a horror movie is reversed, Maria is the last one standing. The scarecrow (that looked conveniently a lot like Maria) is supposed to play in favor of the bad guy, it’s a scary element, creating confusion and unease, but here the character decides to basically take it into her own hands and bend the rules. This character says i’m not that archetype, and she’s going to be using the horror movie tools against itself. 

Lastly, the final horror movie recurring theme that I’m going to talk about is the twin/the double. 

Yes, twins is a spooky tool used in horror movie because their similarities make them unsettling, uncanny. 

There’s also the idea that if one were to replace the other, you wouldn’t be able to tell. The impostor is a very scary concept that Roswell has also dealt with before. 

I can’t be the only one that has been traumatized by that halloween special of the Simpsons where Bart has an evil twin... 

It’s the last twist of the arc, there is a bad!Travis and a good!Travis. The bad one kept the other locked-up somewhere and had taken his place. 

It’s particularly interesting for Roswell that has a history with twins/doppelgänger, and that since the original show. It is a clear instance of in-world foreshadowing here! (howdy)

My conclusion about all this is that the people who worked on 2x06 had a great time building the episode and it shows, while also making it enjoyable to watch and yeah, we love to see it! 

[hawksugarbaby]

Momojirou

Fluff + flowershop Au

Jirou tied the apron around her back sighing in annoyance looking over herself in the mirror "Do we have this in black?" she called to her mother round the back of the flower shop who shook her head and apologised. "Sorry Jirou, I'm sure I can get one made for you though" she offered but the hero in training shook her head and started filling up thin metal buckets hung on the wall with water and plant food.

The neatly lined buckets on the wall hung slightly forward with worn labels with cursive names of flowers stuck on the front and jirou sighed heavily rolling up the ribbon rolls at the side so the trails of silky fabric weren't curled on the floor folded over each other in a tangled mess. "I would have been happy applying for a job at Domino's mum" she shouted to her mother setting up the cash register for the day. She didn't want to cause problems for her mum at the flower shop but she did need money, though it felt like cheating working for one of her parents. "Nonsense i'm sure you'll do great!" her mum encouraged and the purple haired girl nodded anxiously.

She flipped the closed sign to open and awaited customers as she stacked up vases and terracotta pots on the lacquered Ikea shelves shoved against the side and the door opened behind her. "Jirou?" a polite voice asked behind her, one she'd recognise instantly. She spun around holding a yellow glass and her face brightened red almost immediately. "Hey momo, h-how are you" she asked putting the glass down in the line of others and ignoring the rest of the shelving she had to do. "I'm good! It's lovely to see you. I didn't know you worked here?" she said, gesturing at the cozy and quaint building. Jirou just nodded quickly "It's my mum's shop actually but yeah. Take a look around and I'll be... well, here if you need help."

She nodded and grabbed a basket from the side starting to pull out flora from the buckets and taking note in her head how much the bouquet would cost in her head and keeping the red, pink and yellow colour scheme in mind the basket quickly filled. "What colour ribbon do you want?" Jirou asked standing in front of the wall, reels of colour dangling in front of her and scissors in hand. "Pink please" momo stated, standing very close to her friend and Jirou snipped off the fabric wrapping it on the handle of Momo's basket so it wouldn't get lost.

"Have you been working here long?" Momo asked as jirous typed in the order pressing the old keys on the register violently "just started a couple of weeks ago actually but I always feel like I'm gonna mess something up" she laughed nervously laying the flowers out on a piece of transparent paper lined with red tissue and rolled it around the flowers making a cone of paper around them keeping them safe for the journey. "I don't think you could mess anything up, you're so talented!" Momo complimented her eyes trained on Jirous hands tying the ribbon half way up the paper making the ends fan out and she repositioned the flowers inside so the composition didn't look too overwhelming in one spot.

"Well you're more amazing and I refuse to argue" Jirou said handing her the bouquet that she held gently like a fragile piece of china, "thank you Jirou" the brown eyed girl said with a smile. "O-of course. That's um 20.99" (I don't know japan prices) She said and the money was dropped into her hand then sorted into the slots in the register. "Well I'll see you on monday!" momo said, skipping happily out of the shop and Jirou nodded waving her out.

"What am I going to do with myself" Jirou groaned and her mum poked her head out the back of the store "was that the girl you like?" she asked politely stepping next to her daughter and they both patiently kept their eyes on the glass door "Yeah" jirou muttered covering her red face "well you certainly know how to pick them! What was she buying flowers for?" her mum asked, twirling her earphone jacks around her fingers and jirou's eyebrows knit together "I don't know actually?"

The week passed without much explanation from Momo and Jirou left it as it was assuming it was personal. But Jirou found herself back in the shop turning the succulents so the names faced the front and moved the ones in the wrong spot back to the right coordinate. The bell above the door dinged and Jirou turned slowly then jumped seeing momo again "H-hey momo! Nice to see you!" Jirou greeted clutching a succulent for life as the upper class women chuckled at her state "yes it's nice to see you too!"

'What could she be back for' jirou wondered handing a straw basket to jirou who had settled on white and purple this time gathering dahlia's, tulips and baby's breath into her basket.

Momo already knew Jirou had a job before she walked into the place. She didn't know how to function around Jirou feeling like she needed rebooting after every conversation and her face would burn instantly instead of her alabaster complexion. She'd walked past the flower shop a few times, silently admiring Jirou singing to the music on the radio through the window but not having the courage to go in. until last week, when the thought of visiting Jirou was too irresistible and she stepped in with no plan of action except "flowers"

"Can I help you with anything this week?" Jirou asked with an unusually cheery voice, the effects of being lovesick. "Yes actually do you have these daisies?" Momo asked, showing a picture of the larger daisies and you nodded reaching for one of the bottom buckets which were harder to see "Ah wonderful!" she cheered holding out the basket for you to place on the daisies. "Any colour of ribbon?" Jirou asked and momo skimmed over the choices "the creamy beige one is nice" she said running her fingers along the roll and you nodded cutting the ribbon to size.

"What are these little things Jirou?" she asked, examining the succulents in little cat shaped pots "oh those are succulents. They're really easy to look after; they don't require much just watered once or twice a month. Very popular for beginners" The purple headed girl said ripping the transparent paper and laying down a reddish purple tissue for the flowers to sit on gently and wrap in the paper typing a little bow in the front "can I get one of these too?" she asked politely carrying a little plant to the register "of course momo they are for sale" Jirou chuckled and scanned the barcode typing in the bouquet again.

"I'll see you Monday momo" Jirou said, walking her to the door and greeting another customer who entered and went straight for the pots without so much as a hello. Momo waved across the street and went on her way not wanting to put Jirou off work for too long though she wanted nothing more than to spend the day with her.

Again Saturday rolled around and she was prepared for momo's arrival that day dressing nicely instead of the scabby clothes she'd been wearing previously. And a bonus was Jirous mother got her the black apron with the shop's name embroidered across the front neatly in cursive.

The door opened chiming the bell and she spun quickly with a smile "Oh jirou you got a new apron! It looks wonderful on you!" she cheered giving the girl an excited hug. Both of the girls' faces bloomed red and Jirou stood in stunned silence grounding herself with the flowers and earth tones of the small shop. "Jirou do you have Marigolds perchance?" the kind girl asked softly and jirou dropped her shoulders "not at this time of year unfortunately but we have amaryllis which are similar colours!" Jirou suggested and momo nodded enthusiastically, grabbing a basket and following her to the suggested flowers.

she snipped off the orange ribbon and wrapped Momo's flowers again handing them to her and sorting the cash into the till "Jirou I have a question" momo said holding the flowers and staying in front of the till "would you like to go to a cafe down the road?" she asked "well I can ask for the rest of the day off I guess" Jirou muttered excusing herself and going to the back talking to her mum.

"With the girl you like?" she asked hanging her apron up and handing her daughter some change "yeah with her" "oh this is so exciting! Have a good time honey!" she said, shoving her out of the room and into Momo's back. "S-sorry. Mum said I could go!" she said holding the door for jirou and exiting the shop. jirou followed momo to the cafe down the road with similar cosy vibes as her flower shop and they sat down together.

"Whoever is getting all those flowers must be really lucky" jirou chuckled nervously looking up from her black as night coffee and momo raised her eyebrows "y-you think i'm buying someone else flowers?" she quizzed blowing on her tea to cool it before taking a sip, the greyish smoke puffing up and flying away to who knows where "well, yeah aren't you?" Jirou asked, suddenly confused. There was a second of silence and momo put her cup down knitting her fingers together "no i'm not getting them for someone else. the thing is I... Well the thing is I come in the shop to see you!" she admitted with a bright smile that could rival the sun. "to see me?" Jirou confirmed and the ravenette across from her nodded.

"I really like you. And I enjoy spending time with you but I couldn;t figure out a way of asking to see you more often so I... started visiting your shop because, well, I think you're amazing" momo explained not holding any feelings or words back unlike Jirou who was always so reserved "And I would love to date you if i'm honest" momo added handing the flowers to the girl in front of her as if she didn't buy them from her. "You want to date me? Why i'm so... awkward and i'm nothing like you" jirou chuckled nervously rubbing the back of her neck. Was this a prank? No Momo would never do that to someone. "Exactly, you're nothing like me and that's why I like you so much"

Jirou considered the reality of the situation for a moment worrying the world could shift into a nightmare any second or she'd wake up front this dream heartbroken and betrayed by her own heart and head. "I would like to date you too" she said back finally after a beat of confidence. "Ah i'm glad! I've wanted to tell you for so long!" Momo giggled sweetly and jirou twirled her jacks in her fingers "I can't believe I could have been with you sooner if I didn't think you were buying flowers for someone else" jirou sighed facepalming and hiding a small smile. This might be what she needed, her way of getting out her shell.

[nandalorian]

the gentleness that comes

Sometimes you just get thinking about random things like “what if Jaskier decided to Eternal Sunshine himself to get over the mountain breakup?” and then proceed to ruin not only your life but the lives of everyone else around you. 🙃

Jaskier/Geralt, PG-13

“No mage can do what you’re asking. Not even, I would wager, something as powerful as a djinn, or at least not in any way that would bring you peace,” Tissaia explains with more patience than Jaskier honestly expected. For all the fearsome tales he’s heard of the headmistress of Aretuza, she is either kinder than he deserves, or the stories have done her very, very wrong. Perhaps both. But her eyes are steady, her expression serene. Absolute. “Just as we cannot induce someone to fall in love, nor can we make them fall out of it.” She pauses to offer a sympathetic smile. “I am sorry. For you to have travelled such a long way, I suspect you do not make this request in haste.”

The compassion in Tissaia’s voice is terrible to hear. After all, sometimes kindness can look like cruelty before you’ve gotten enough distance on a thing. Certainly the opposite is true, anyway. Jaskier would know. He lowers his gaze to his hands, of a sudden fascinated by the calluses on his fingertips, the ragged skin around his nails. He has to take several deep, steadying breaths before he answers. 

“No, not in haste,” he manages at last. “I have prayed for it for some twenty-seven years.”

“Any man would be blessed to have captured such a loyal heart.”

Jaskier can’t resist a scoff. “Any man indeed.”

Several long moments pass, and eventually he must accept that Tissaia has said all she can on the matter. He forces himself to smile and climb to his feet, whereupon he sketches a bow fit for a queen. Tissaia doesn’t rise. She barely blinks, a statue rendered in green velvet and black lace.

“Mistress. I thank you for the tea, and your candor,” he tells her, still inclining his head with a hand pressed over his heart. “It’s not often a humble bard may boast an audience with the great Tissaia de Vries. If ever you are in need of musical entertainment, I proudly volunteer my services. I’m in your debt.”

“You are in no one’s debt, Lord Pankratz,” Tissaia answers, serenely as ever. At no point during their conversation did Jaskier tell her his full name, having introduced himself as Jaskier the Bard and no more. His title is useful to fling around in situations that call for it, but not here; Tissaia would see through any attempt at peacocking. “Nor are you merely a humble bard. You are most welcome here, as any friend of Yennefer’s is a friend of Aretuza.”

“Jaskier, if you will. And I’m not quite sure Yennefer would deign to call me a friend, but I’ll take it.” He smiles back and speaks through the tightness in his throat. “It’s been a pleasure.”

He is almost to the door of her study when her voice rings out again.

“Jaskier.”

He turns.

At some point Tissaia stood without making a sound and came around the desk to face him with her hands clasped together. “I cannot fulfill your wish as such. But I may be able to offer an alternative. One that comes at a great cost.”

Jaskier swallows and hopes the thrill of hope--and fear--elicited by her words isn’t completely obvious. “I’m listening.”

+

Her solution is quite simple, really, and so obvious that Jaskier isn’t sure how he didn’t think of it before. 

However, nor is Tissaia’s warning in jest: the cost is great indeed. So great that Jaskier cannot in good conscience be sure it is one he’s capable of paying.

Not monetary, of course, though he came prepared to empty his pockets and offer his soul if necessary. No, the cost is something more significant and precious than any coin or favour. Much more.

“A memory spell is a rather straightforward matter,” Tissaia explains as she and Jaskier walk the halls of Aretuza. Their destination is unclear, but where Tissaia goes, he follows. He’s not stupid enough to do otherwise. “It’s a spell even a novice can be expected to perform adequately, with the proper training, of course. One never knows when war might be averted by something as simple as a king forgetting an accidental slight, or a maid forgetting a conversation they were not meant to overhear.” She shrugs. “Not always the most elegant solution, but effective.”

A shiver crawls down Jaskier’s spine and makes the hair stand up on his arms and the back on his neck.

Magic, especially the kind taught at Aretuza or Ban Ard, is an ethical grey area, and mages have always played hard and fast with the rules, holding themselves above the trivialities and petty concerns of human morality. That’s why they’re mages: feared, awed, and resented in equal measure. 

That Tissaia speaks so casually about altering people’s memories, of mages’ power to decide the course of history according to their own values and interests, is a frightening concept. Most days Jaskier can’t decide what to eat for breakfast. And yet here he is, about to consider letting one of the most powerful mages in history stick her creepy magical fingers in his brain and give it a stir. He should consider getting his sanity checked instead.

Jaskier casts a sidelong look at Tissaia. “But falling in love isn’t like hearing something you shouldn’t, or being offended by a poor choice of words. It’s--”

“Complicated. Yes, quite. And even erasing the briefest of memories does not always go according to plan.”

Without warning, she stops in front of a heavy set of double doors, which she throws open with a flick of her wrist--a useless bit of pageantry, that, but one that distracts from Jaskier’s increasingly pressing urge to flee. Tissaia gestures for him to follow her inside and walks on.

Jaskier doesn’t immediately obey. Drumming his fingers anxiously against his leg, he leans over to peer inside, mind racing ahead to images of a frightening laboratory, potions bubbling away in vials, screaming victims strapped to tables or floating in giant vats. It’s--

Oh. A library.

Huffing to himself, Jaskier adjusts the strap of his lute on his shoulder and hurries to catch up.

The place is massive, far larger than it looks to be from outside, with soaring ceilings and giant stained-glass windows that reach several stories above their heads. Shelves upon shelves line the walls, stretching from floor to ceiling, and dozens more sit in neat rows upon multiple levels, staggered in tiers like a duchess’s birthday cake. They are filled to bursting with books, of course, interspersed with tables and comfortable chairs for mages at study. Jaskier can count at least four fireplaces burning merrily away. Right now he and Tissaia appear to be the only ones here.

With a theatricality he can’t help but admire, Tissaia turns and holds out her arms, encompassing everything and looking very like a queen showing off her kingdom. “What do you see before you?” she asks, voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space.

Jaskier furrows his brow. The question is almost certainly a trick of some kind, so he answers with the first thing to come to mind. “Uh… books?”

“Precisely.” Tissaia lowers her arms. “Tens of thousands of books, each of them containing spells, histories, first- and secondhand accounts of untold lifetimes, many of which have been forgotten but not lost.”

“Memories.”

She nods. “Yes. But memories are not like books. And magic, even in the hands of the most talented user, is not like taking a book down off a shelf. It is not a matter of selecting a few chapters to discard and letting the person continue on their merry way. The mind is a much more delicate and complex thing. If it were to be a story, it would be a very messy story indeed, with no clear narrative or plot, no chapter headings, and not necessarily even a single voice.”

“Sounds like some of my earliest compositions.” 

He titters at his own joke; Tissaia’s expression doesn’t budge. 

Unnerved, Jaskier clears his throat and has to break eye contact, looks around the room instead. After a moment, and with a smidge more gravity, he asks, “Why are you telling me this?”

Once again Tissaia regards him with that patient look from before. “Because you must comprehend that there is a price to what you’re asking, and why I do not suggest this lightly. If you are truly serious in your quest to rid yourself of Geralt of Rivia, and I sense that you are, there is a possible way forward. But to erase this one chapter of your life will require throwing out many more--whole volumes, whole books, shelf after shelf of memories. Possibly the entire library, if things do not go according to plan.” She pauses and steps forward to touch his chin, forcing Jaskier to look at her. “Do you understand what I am telling you?”

He swallows with difficulty, throat catching on the boulder suddenly lodged there. It wouldn’t do to ruin the moment by asking how she knows this is about Geralt, even though Jaskier definitely didn’t tell her and did his best to avoid thinking about him during their initial conversation. But his reputation precedes him, after all, and if not that, he really doesn’t want to know the extent of the mage’s legendary powers of telepathy. He also thinks to bring it up now would be missing the point.

“Are you saying I will forget my whole life?” he asks.

“Unlikely, though not impossible,” says Tissaia like that isn’t an utterly testicle-shrivelling statement. “That is the worst-case scenario. The best is that you will cease to remember everything since you met Geralt. That is, in essence, what you want, is it not?”

“I’ve known Geralt since I was barely eighteen.” Panic suffuses his voice without Jaskier quite meaning it to. “I’m forty-five years old.” 

Eighteen-year-old Jaskier is a mystery to him now. Oh, he vaguely recalls joints that didn’t creak and a back that offered him less trouble each morning upon rising, a cock that would swell at a hard gust of wind and balls that never seemed to empty. That boy could sing all day and dance all night in and out of people’s beds. He was loud, annoying, impetuous, drunk on the sound of his own voice, and full of love. So full of love that he could saunter up to a complete stranger with white hair and yellow eyes and end up following him around for twenty-seven years instead. Well… twenty-four, if you don’t count the last three since they become estranged. Which Jaskier absolutely does not.

His enduring muse and most steadfast friend; his life’s greatest and most unfulfilled passion. 

His most profound heartbreak.

Not much has changed about the last part, but Jaskier likes to think he’s grown wiser with age, less migraine-inducing. He lived enough to discover what pleased him before it was taken away.

Are any of those lessons worth unlearning, for any reason?

“Eighteen isn’t a bad age,” Tissaia remarks, breaking through his thoughts, or perhaps deliberately interrupting. She has been steadily taking in Jaskier’s internal struggle with that calm, measured gaze, though her attention is sharp. “By then most of us have some idea of who we are and what we want. Enough that you could begin again.” 

Jaskier slants her a look. “Mages are immortal, and you’re one of the oldest still living. Please don’t condescend to me that eighteen is anything but as unbearably young as it sounds.”

A small smile. Perversely, it reminds him of Geralt. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, forty-five is unbearably young too.”

Ruefully, unexpectedly, Jaskier barks a laugh and concedes the point with a nod. “Touché.”

They linger in that shared bit of humour for a moment, Tissaia’s smile widening and making her look abruptly more human since they met, and then she cants her head. She gestures, and from seemingly nowhere a book tumbles off some far-off shelf and flies into her hand. With an enigmatic smile, she turns it over to reveal the spine and hands it to Jaskier. The Songs of Jaskier the Bard is tooled on the front in gold, winking in the firelight. 

“You’re more fortunate than most: there’s an account of your life right here. Should you want it, that is.”

“I’m not sure I do anymore.” Jaskier peers at the book from the corner of his eye. It almost hurts to look at it directly, to think of the tales sung about in its pages, the joy, the adventure, but also the love and heartache couched beneath every note, every clever turn of phrase. The next words are a genuine struggle to get out, and he tries with everything he has not to cry. “No, I think that time has quite passed. I want peace. And if not peace, then at least blissful ignorance.”

“Hm.” The sound is neither pitying nor understanding, merely thoughtful. Tissaia regards him critically. “Then you may have it. You’re still a young man. Not a grey hair on you, and I’ve my suspicions you’ll live for a while yet.”

Jaskier narrows his eyes at her. What does that even mean. “What does that mean?”

She chuckles. “It means you have time. And time heals a multitude of wounds. Not perfectly, but… passably.”

“And--what? I can find love again, or some such tosh?”

“If you like.”

He huffs. “I used to think that. I did. Give it time, and eventually I’d meet someone new who would make me forget Geralt ever existed, blah blah blah--yes, I know, the irony of that isn’t lost on me.” Jaskier is quiet for a moment. “But I don’t know if that’s true anymore. It’s been three years. The wound hasn’t healed, only festered. The more I try to open my heart to others, the more it seems to close.”

“It is said people linked by destiny will always find each other.”

“Oh, I know that one. That’s a prison sentence, not a comfort.” 

“I didn’t intend for it to be.”

At last Jaskier forces himself to look down at the book in his hand. It has a pleasant heft in his hand, the weight of a life lived well. For twenty-seven--no, twenty-four years he gazed upon the face of the man he loved and loves still. Sang of him, to him, the way seabirds call to the sea, a song in their blood even when the crash of the surf is too far away to be heard. 

Is that enough? Can it be enough?

Perhaps it will have to be. Or perhaps he can simply wake up tomorrow and not remember or care what the correct answer is. Forget even that he asked the question.

He sets the book down upon a nearby table and pauses only to run his hand down the cover, leather supple beneath his fingertips. In his mind’s eye is Geralt--not spitting mad and vicious on a mountaintop, no, but as Jaskier first saw him, sitting quietly by himself in the corner of a tavern. Trying so very hard to escape everyone’s notice, and yet once he caught Jaskier’s eye, quite impossible to look away from. Impossible not to love.

Jaskier turns back to Tissaia and meets her gaze steadily.

“I understand and accept the risks,” he says, confident in a way he does not feel. That has always been his way. Even, it must be said, at eighteen. It’s enough. It will be enough. “Now tell me what I must do.”

[suuung]

Interconeccted, chapter (1)  kylo ren x reader

a kylo ren x reader fanfiction.  warnings: this fanfiction will develop dark themes as it goes on.

chapter 2: here

through which two force-sensitives could influence each other or even feel each other's physical, emotional or mental pain. 

                                                 “The food we’ve managed to get will last us months.” Your cousin cheered.

You hum back reading one of the few books in the abandoned pile. All of them were quite dusty after finding them scattered on the ship you rested on. It was titled; The Forgotten History of Jedi

“Now we’ll just have to sneak it back.” She mumbled.

Shea grabbed the heaping bags and stepped out, putting them on the horse.

“Lets go!” She hollered, annoyed.

You reluctantly placed the book in your bag, leaving the rest behind. You sat up on the horse and felt sadness erupt through you again. The both of you live on your own in a small village, a very isolated one for sure. ‘Adventure’ like this didn’t happen often, only every few months. She thinks she knows well. She is the older cousin and the only one to take care of you after your family died of famine at your young age. It wasn’t common for families to survive on this planet, there was little to food and yet your family was not rich, and barley had made enough to get by so ultimately you and Shea are still struggling.

As you rode the horse back to town heat licked at your sunburned face and coiled around your limbs. Looking up at the bright sky and everything seemed to have a glaze. The headache that the heat brought felt unbearable. You suddenly felt your thoughts slip away, a blackness coming over you. Like a blanket, but not a blanket of warmth but a blanket of coldness making you recoil in fear. Suddenly, a sharp pain drove through you.  Collapsing and falling on the hard gravel beneath you both. Pain sizzled through your legs up your chest increasing in small waves across your face. Swiftly your body curls into a small ball while the pain burns and radiates.

 Everything became fuzzy; then nothing at all. 

You woke, everything feeling broken and detached. The familiar decaying ceiling in your eyesight. You had bandages wrapped tightly around your head, assuming that was from the fall you sat up slowly. The headache was unbearable. Looking around you were alone and Shea’s bed across from you was empty. 

You called for her but your response was silence. Glancing at the chipped and broken clock, noon just hit. She’s probably at the market selling junk. 

There was water beside your bed, hesitantly reaching for a sip the glass slipped. Pain coming over you in sparks. Reflecting something sharp, making it worse each time it touched. The glass broke and made a loud shatter. You didn't wanna bother cleaning it up. It ended as soon as it started, although the headache was worse, the pain had subsided.

Swinging your legs over the bed and walking into the crooked kitchen catching yourself from tripping on your own feet.   You lived in a small hut outside the village, fairly run down and little to no insulation. You were hungry, you hoped she would return soon as you looked at the empty containers. 

You remembered the book from yesterday, your memories did feel fuzzy. You walked over and grabbed the book, returning to your room and sat on your bed.

The Jedi are the opposite of the Sith, another group of force wielders, the Sith use their passion, and other strong emotions to fuel their power.

Turning the page brought you to the index. 

History Of the Jedi 

Force Chosen       

Movementuls 

Force Bond

It caught your eye, going to the page number. 

Common to occur between Jedi Masters and their apprentices, a Force bond, also known as Force chain or Jedi kinship, was a link through which two Force-sensitives could influence each other or even feel each other's physical, emotional or mental pain. 

Stronger force bonds need a balance of the light and dark sides. Weakers have light and light; dark and dark. 

Turning the page again you felt your fingertips burn. 

Another page flip.

Fighting or hardship together with the forcebond causes their powers to become amplified as the bond between them grows stronger with every passing moment.

It is known for the beginning of a force bond to include physical pain bursts and may cause the pain to double by the effect of altering two minds. 

This can’t be real, the tales were true about the force. Mother always told you and your sister it was a hoax, a scam. Something the galaxy could never accomplish.

Suddenly loud crashing and screams were heard from the village.  Fear choked you as the face of your cousin appeared in your head. This must be another attack from the first order. You’ve heard hellish tales about them, they must be looking for someone. 

You stumbled to the window looking out. Your heart sank. Everyone in this village has had a family member snatched. Giving a child freedom to roam was asking for the first order to take them.  

You ran outside, grabbing a knife from the kitchen. Clutching onto your shirt you held it up to cover your mouth, wind was blowing furiously from the ships landing on your planet. Blasters were shooting civilians and they were taking men and children. You snuck behind ships, running over loose rubble and tumbling down steep sand, feet slipping as your throat shocked and inhaled deeper, faster crying for Shea.  

You caught yourself off guard. A stormtrooper spotted you and yelled out. Your adrenaline demands you to run, you keep running but you know your time is up. Out of the corner of your eye you see something sharp and red shooting at you. You try to jump out of the way but it's too late. You scream and collapse to the ground as your wrists are bound and you are guided onto a ship along with other kidnapped citizens. 

The whole thing felt fuzzy, and soon enough the doors closed and the ship took off. You woke to the doors opening once again, but now being inside a landing bay for ships. You must be on the imperial navy ship. Only bad things have been heard to be done here. A stormtrooper barked orders for everyone to stand, they grabbed each person kidnapped and pulled them into different lines, Men and women. A stormtrooper tugged harshly at your shirt shoving you into the line of other girls, everyone was terrified. You were all barked at again to follow each leader of your group. Still handcuffed you walked down the hallways of the imperial ship. It was dark and tourture filled. 

You were halted, all of you given a number by a droid. 

“CLASS: FEMALE: TROOP” “ID: 2310984” 

 You watched those numbers inbrand into a storm trooper suit, then gave them to you. You wanted to die. Your new life you must act as you can cope with being caged, now fed on a schedule as farmyard pigs, and spoken to without the slightest trace of love.

It has been a month in this hell-hole. You still havent seen a trace of Shea. Your life feels so meaningless, perhaps it's because there is no love here, no hugs or kind smiles, no-one to tell you everything will be okay. And then there are the eyes of everyone here, alive and dead, as if they are so desperate for this nightmare to be over, to be able to leave this place.  

You started off your morning like all the other mornings. The female base dorms are cold and dark. You never manage to sleep so breakfast feels like an eternity to arrive. You are given cold scraps of food each morning, along with water. You are in stormtrooper training for the next 2 weeks. You still don’t know what to expect after this, perhaps things will lighten up and you will be brought more light into your new dark life. You are taught daily the mantra not to feel bad for the killings of villagers. Not to feel guilt anymore, not to feel human emotion. You’ve seen so many things this past month you want to forget, one thing still burns within you.

The image of General Hux and the Commander Kylo Ren. You were with your cohort of Stormtrooper Trainees going to retrieve practice guns. The mantra settling in your head once again, You are stormtroopers. You are the keenest weapon in the Emperor's arsenal. Do not fail him. Do not fail me. Your world felt in slow motion as you walked past the commander.

Your heart felt like it stopped beating and your whole body felt heavy, like it was pulling you. The shackles on your handcuffs strained and made noise. 

Panic. It drove through me fast and hard.

Breath. It felt so hard to capture.

Movement. Something I could conjure once again.

Force you've never felt before, a force that was screaming at you to run but as if your body were reborn in its most perfect form.

You coaxed yourself to sleep each night trying to re-feel that day. To grasp those feelings of warmth and pulling you felt for that short moment. You needed to be close to him again, your body screamed and ached for it each day but you were still met with the same cold mattress each morning. 

The helmet of Kylo Ren was all you saw each time you close your eyes. Suddenly you were brought out of thought by an announcement calling a meeting for all stormtroopers led today by General Hux and Commander Kylo Ren. 

You and all the other female soldiers in your dorm put on your uniforms quickly, your heart pounded as you put on your helmet. Your leader lined you all up and made your way to the docks outside where all thousands of them were perfectly lined up. One screw up and your life will be over. 

About a half hour later of stormtrooper groups getting led in to get ready for the announcement General Hux with Kylo Ren stood at the podium. Your heart started to pound rapidly as you kept your composite and stayed as still as you could. Anxiety crept up as you started to shake. Kylo spoke, his voice altered from the mask. 

“As commander of the first order, we will be initiating an attack on the desert planet of Jakku tomorrow morning. Trainees will not be sent out but will remain on the ships as extras if needed. We are in search of Lor San Tekka. We believe he has a piece of the map leading us to Luke Skywalker.”

You began to zone out as Kylo stepped down from the podium and General hux began to preach about the attack. Your mind felt fuzzy as you kept your gaze on Kylo through your helmet. His cape flew furiously in the wind, flapping and whipping. 

The more you stare the more dizzy you feel. A sharp pain woke you out of your trance. It was on the side of your head, like a headache of a million arrows shooting at you. Your arm fell down slightly but you picked it back up hoping no one had seen the slip up.

 You kept your eyes on Kylo, and you swear you felt your heart drop out of your chest at the sight of him clutching the side of his head staggerly. He stumbled and looked down at the ground still clutching his head. 

You gasped quietly as your heart pounded, the pain you had felt stopped completely the moment he felt it. Soon enough he stood and gathered his composter. 

You felt yourself not being able to breathe properly, not being able to conjure what just happened. Then, suddenly, he turned his head towards your direction and the cold eyes of the helmet stung into you. 

[btsslowburnfic]

Chthonic Love Ch. 16

Series Summary: A Greek Mythology AU featuring Yoongi/Suga as Hades and reader as Persephone. Olympian ruler Namjoon has delivered you, Persephone, as a gift for his brother, lord of Death, Yoongi

Previous Chapter here

Sidenote: Someone at BH reading this FF?  This is literally Lord Yoongi.  Just imagine some black sand. 

You thought you would have difficulty finding people given how unpopulated the castle usually felt. However, the tremors had roused most of the servants who were milling about nervously in the hallways and in the Great Hall.

As you entered the Hall, Lethe came running over. “Lady Persephone. Thank goodness. I went to your room right after the Earthquake and you weren’t there. We can’t find Penthos or Lord Yoongi either.”

“It’s alright,” You reassured her, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. You looked around and saw the same concerns etched on the faces of the other servants. “Help me gather everyone  in here and I’ll explain what I can.” You pressed your lips together into a firm line and went out in the hallway to gather people. Once you returned to the Hall you walked over to the front of the room and stepped up onto the small dais. You waited a few minutes for people to file into the room and to collect your thoughts. Once it seemed like people were ready to listen, you began.

“Thank you everyone for gathering here. I understand you are concerned about the Earthquake. Earlier this evening there was a small cave-in in the tunnels beneath the palace. Lord Yoongi and Penthos are investigating. At this time, there is no reason to worry. If these tremors happen again, please remain calm. We have evacuated the tunnels for the time being and several of the creatures who lived there are seeking refuge in the older part of the castle. They are subterranean and require dirt. I need help carrying sand from the desert into the abandoned throne room. Once it is there, I can transform it. Thank you.” You stepped down and walked over to Lethe. “Was that ok?”

She laughed, “I don’t think anyone has ever addressed the staff of this castle ever. You did great. Let me show you where we keep the buckets and barrels.” 

The two of you led the way to get containers for the sand. Before long, there was an assembly line throughout the castle from the desert to the abandoned throne room as you and several servants began to spill black sand onto the ground.

“Watch out little babies,” You cood to the spiderlings who had come over to see what all the noise was about. “It’s not dirt yet, but I’m sure we can do something with it. The repetitive task went on for hours. Your bandaged hands ached and your back was beginning to hurt as well. Finally, when most of the floor was covered in three inches of dirt, you told the staff to go rest for the remainder of the day.

You had removed as much clothing as was appropriate as you took a seat on the stairs. You heard Lethe sit down next to you.

“I am so sweaty.” You said.  She laughed and handed you a glass of water. “Thanks.”

“You did a great job earlier, rallying the troops. Took me back to my Athenien days.” She said, dusting sand off her hands and onto her apron.

“Yeah, thanks. I just hope this works and that Lord Yoongi is ok.” You started to remove the bandages from your hands. You picked up a jar you had saved and stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

“What can I do to help?” Lethe asked.

“I’ll probably need a stiff cup of tea when I’m done. And a bath. I stink.” You wrinkled your nose.

“I’ll get the tea started and come back. Be careful. Don’t push yourself, your hands are still wounded.”

“Too late.” You sighed looking at the lacerations. “Thank you.” You were truly grateful for Lethe.

You walked down the steps and into the tunnels. You knew that Yoongi had told you to stay out, but you needed a sample of the soil so you could try to replicate its composition. Without Yoongi’s powers to illuminate the steps, it was slow going as you felt your way through the darkness. You hoped he was alright. 

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

Yoongi stood with his hands on his hips, assessing the rock pile that had collapsed. While he had remained calm earlier, his mind was now racing. You could have died. What would he have done? He knew he cared for you but he hadn’t realized how much until the moment he threw his body on top of yours, terrified you would be crushed by the dirt collapse. What would he do if you were gone? But weren’t you going to leave anyway. No. He didn’t want to think about it.  He wasn’t going to let that happen, he resolved.

He heard footsteps approaching and recognized the footfalls as Penthos’. Centuries together could do that to people. He turned slowly.

“My Lord.” He bowed slightly, “What happened down here?”

“There is something out there. On the other side of the mountain.” Yoongi gestured towards the wall Penthos had resealed just yesterday. “Lady Persephone says it’s something big. But we don’t know what it’s purpose is.”

Arachne and the other adult spiders continued to dig through the rubble. The path to the golems had been cut off. Yoongi was trying not to worry about it, but he was beginning to feel extremely vulnerable. He turned around to face Penthos.

 “How on earth would she know that?” Penthos scoffed.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes, “Because she can read life forces and she detected something behind that wall. You seem to forget that Lady Persephone is an Earth Goddess.”

Penthos noticed the gash on Yoongi’s head, “My Lord, you’re bleeding.”

Yoongi waved his hand, annoyed. “It’s nothing. It will heal soon anyways. I need your ideas. The path to the golems is cut off. There’s a mysterious something on the other side of this rock and I can’t leave to investigate it or else corpses will pile up on the beach.” He let his irritation with the situation show. 

“My lord, we could always appeal for another God to travel there. Jungkook travels through the sky all day, every day. Ask him to gaze upon that part of the underworld.”

“No.” Yoongi almost snarled.  “I will not be indebted to any of those Gods.” Yoongi quickly dismissed the idea. He hated ingratiating himself to anybody. 

Penthos sighed. “I could travel there my Lord if you wished it. I do not like leaving the castle unguarded, especially with how things have been lately.” 

That last sentence was a mistake. Yoongi didn’t miss a thing when people spoke. Being a God who chose his own words so carefully, he appreciated and noticed the nuances with which people spoke.  “Lately.” Yoongi paused for effect. “Lately? Now what is that supposed to mean exactly?” 

Penthos grew slightly rigid. “I would be happy to travel to the other side of the Mountain my lord, if it pleases you.” He looked down.

Yoongi clicked his tongue and wrestled with himself about if he wanted to push the issue or not. “Yes. You will travel and investigate.”

“Yes my Lord. Thank you.” He seemed to know he had avoided a severe tongue lashing.

“But you should know,” Yoongi’s voice grew dark, “don’t return unless you are willing to pledge yourself to Lady Persephone as Queen.”

Penthos eyes snapped up, “Lord Yoongi you barely know..”

“I wasn’t asking you.” Yoongi closed the distance between them. He grabbed Penthos’ face, holding his chin in his hand and squeezing his cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. . “Do you understand?” He applied minor pressure.

Penthos nodded his head, “Yss Yss.” 

Yoongi held on for a few more seconds and then pushed back, causing Penthos to stagger. “Good. Seal the tunnels again. You will leave tomorrow.” Yoongi gave him one last look before heading back to the main antechamber. His jaw was clenched still in irritation. Penthos was lucky he had so many years of service under his belt, Yoongi thought, or else he would be in charge of guarding Tartarus. He felt himself growing angry once again as he rounded the corner to the main room.

His gaze and thoughts immediately softened when he saw you, crouched down on the ground, gathering dirt into a jar. Your hair was haphazardly cascading out of a loose bun, you were covered in sand, and you looked sweaty. He had never seen you look so beautiful. 

He felt his anger towards Penthos ease momentarily  as he thought back to a few minutes ago. He didn’t just say what he did to threaten Penthos; he would make you his Queen if you would have him. He cleared his throat, "I thought I told you to stay out of here." 

You turned suddenly, surprise you let out a small cry at first. "Oh it's you. I was so worried." You stood up, holding out your jar of dirt . "Sorry. I know you said to stay away but I've been busy and I need a dirt sample so I can finally finish and take a bath." 

Yoongi sighed, there was really no telling you what to do. He walked over and took the jar of dirt. "Fascinating. Tell me more."

You smiled, "it's more of a showing thing. But you'll see soon enough. Are you done down here?”

“Yes. For now. Let’s go.” He illuminated the sconces lining the stairs. The two of you made your way back to the old throne room.  Yoongi abruptly stopped at the top and turned to look at you. "Is there any sand left in the desert?" he asked, his eyes bugging out slightly. 

You cackled, removing the jar from his hands You pushed past him, "Don't worry, your precious desert is safe. Be careful not to step on the babies." 

Yoongi looked down and noticed a bunch of the spiderlings had come to see what the commotion was about. 

You dumped the jar of dirt into the middle of the room and took a deep breath. You placed your hands on top of it and began to concentrate. You felt the durst react to your touch as you focused. Be dirt be dirt be dirt.

"Hey. Your hands are still injure,d stop it." Yoongi said, his voice filled with concern. 

You looked up at him defiantly and pressed your hands down further into the soil and sand. 

"Dammit Y/N.”  He cursed and walked over to you. For a moment you thought he was going to yank your hands off the dirt, but instead he placed them gently on top of yours. You felt your powers become amplified as the dirt began to root into the sand. Sand turned to dirt. Slowly, the transmutation worked. Once every grain had been converted you stopped pressing your hands down. You felt so weak between carrying sand and using your magic. You started to sway.. 

"Come here," Yoongi sat down next to you. You let yourself fall against him. 

"Sorry. I just want them to feel safe." you whispered. 

Yoongi moved some of your hair out of your face. "I know. You're a good person.You felt him press a kiss into your hair and all you could think was how much you needed a bath. 

Lethe walked in. It was quite the sight. The lord of the castle sitting in a pile of dirt with a filthy lady half-collapsed on him. Oh dear. 

"My lord are you ok? Is she OK?" she asked from the stairs. 

Yoongi normally would feel embarrassed being seen so casually, but at this moment, you were his most pressing concern. He stood up and then crouched down to pick you up. 

"Yoongi, that's not necessary," you quietly protested against his chest. 

"By the time you walk to your room I'll be late for my reaping." He teased. 

“Lady Persephone needs to rest.” He walked over to the stairs.

“And a bath.” You said.

“And a bath. And her hands redressed.” Yoongi added as Lethe carried the tea back towards your room with Yoongi following her. 

You tried to keep your breathing calm as you were pressed against Yoongi’s firm chest. You could hear his heartbeat racing. IT had been quite the day. Your mind traveled back to the kissing from earlier. You had been so busy you hadn’t thought of it since then but now...your face grew red. The three of you arrived at your room.

Lethe sat down the tea and excused herself to draw your bath. Yoongi sat you down on your bed. Your face was still red, you were sure of it.

“Are you ok?” Yoongi asked, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead.

“I’m just tired. It’s been a long day. Did you find anything in the tunnels?”

“No. Penthos is leaving tomorrow to investigate.”

“Is that safe? For him to go alone”

“Are you worried about him? I thought you two didn’t like each other?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow

You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t like him, but I assume since he’s been your Steward he must have some redeeming qualities.”

Yoongi pushed some stray hairs behind your ear. “You really are too kind.” You saw a brief look of sadness cross his face. Before you could ask, it was  gone.

“I have a reaping to attend to.” He stood up. “I’ll see you later.Make sure you rest up.”

“Ok, thank you.”You responded quietly. 

Yoongi exited your room feeling his heart beating in his ears. You were too kind for the underworld. For him. You deserved to be on Earth where it was warm, and happy, and full of good things. But you had kissed him earlier. That had definitely happened. So maybe you wanted to stay. He should have asked you about it, he chastised himself, but you were so tired. He resolved to talk to you about it the next time he saw you. NEXT CHAPTER

[sanshineaus]

your home

JUNG YOONOH / JAEHYUN X READER

warnings: there’s a verbal fight (kind of?) and an unclear mending of a relationship

type: drabble!

word count: 2996

a/n: thank you for your compliments love ):<3 but also sorry for this being so late, i’ve had a spell of watching the untamed/cql and i completely forgot to finish this

music recommendation: can you see my heart and wu ji even though neither fit lyrically, the melodies influenced me a lot

The light of your porch poorly illuminated the piece of paper in your hand, and you shivered despite the warmth of the evening.

It seems so trivial— a simple piece of paper. Simple, so simple that the black and white muddle together as you feel yourself tearing up. You still hold it far away from you, and your tears fall into your lap instead, but the blue lines of your signature at the bottom similarly blur in front of you until you can’t recognize that this is your handwriting.

Your company was incredibly generous after only five years of you working there. You did your best, of course, but you didn’t expect it to be paid back in the manner that it was; a raise that was the subsequence of a promotion. You were so excited to sign the contract and to finally get the coveted position, except you overlooked the fact that they now had the full right to change your station of work.

And that was exactly what they did.

Taking into account that you were young and skilled, and good at the language, your company offered a plane ticket and an address— as well as the option to pack within a week. ‘It’s a short time to bid farewell,’ they said, ‘but we expect it not to be too much of a problem.’

Business and family were not very good friends, you decided in that moment.

The drive back  to your home could very well be described as dangerous. You were a cautious driver, of course, though you struggled to focus your thoughts on anything but how you’ll tell your family that you were moving abroad at such short term notice. How to tell your friends that you would have to cancel your night out next week, too. But most of all, how to tell him.

Yoonoh and you have been dating for as long as you care to remember freshman year of college. He was in so many of your classes that it was simply impossible not to notice the dimple clad boy. He had more of a baby face back then, eighteen and eager to be part of the frathouse with a terrible composition of greek letters. It was easy to get lost in his flirting and niceties, and yet Yoonoh wasn’t like the other frat members.

His ways were more pure, and you’re pretty sure he kept track of when the two of you met up and for what. He enjoyed your company, and you enjoyed his, and eventually this enjoyment grew into a relationship by the end of second semester. You could distinctly remember that he brought you yogurt cups during finals to make sure you are something, and you similarly tried to get him granola bars whenever you were free.

Upon finishing college, you moved in together. Yoonoh struggled to get a job for a while, though you were both ecstatic when he got into his desired field and got the opportunity to do exactly what he loved. He grew pride for you as you did for him, and each day was better than the last. You simply understood each other through everything that happened to you.

And now you’d have to break to him that in a week, you’d be moving away from everyone, from him, and from your quaint little house.

You shivered again, and you realized that it was because of how truly distressed this made you. You didn’t want to leave Yoonoh, but you also didn’t want to leave your career. You argued many times with yourself that you’d love to move one day, but you didn’t expect it to be so soon, or without him for that matter.

You knew you could carry yourself well without him— you were your own person, after all— but the thought of him being so far away from you made bile rise in your throat. Maybe he’d move with you? Despite your company offering a one person apartment, you’d be more than willing to live with him in any small space, and search for other places. You needed to talk to him though, something which required a lot of mental fortitude.

You knew Yoonoh was inside and cooking you dinner. Your shift was a twelve hour one, and he’s been home for more than four hours now. You also knew he most likely heard you in the driveway, and you knew that he was waiting. He’d know you were upset, because it wasn’t like you do not go inside immediately unless you had a bad day or were energetic enough to tend to your garden. He could probably deduce it was the former since your shifts weren’t usually half a day long, though, and you’d be knackered by hour nine.

When you stood up, a light breeze lulled your dizzy headed self to the wooden pillar by you first. You neatly returned the paper you held into a folder you carried with you (with stickers he bought for you, something that usually made you happy but now seemed to serve the purpose of reminding you you’ll have to leave him).

Closing your eyes, you didn’t let your mind run through possible scenarios of how you’d tell him, instead clouding over with the image of Yoonoh’s hurt face, pursed lips, and offended eyes. Malaise settled in the depth of your stomach, and you used your sleeve to tap away your tears. It didn’t matter, though; your eyes were already red, and filling up again.

You moved towards the door so slowly you thought of yourself as more fitting of a zombie than a person. Turning the doorknob suddenly felt as if you were touching the surface of the sun, and a similarly unpleasant warmth spread all throughout your body. You felt feverish with anticipation, and once you finally were inside you busied yourself with taking off your shoes slowly, glancing up towards the kitchen every once in a while.

As expected, he was there, removing the pan you two used for everything from the stove and dividing it evenly into two plates. Your chest was hollow, suddenly, all words lost as you stared at him from the doorway, carefully tending to garnishing your dish even though you’ve told him so many times he doesn’t have to. Yoonoh looked perfect simply standing there, focused, and you contemplated if you really should go through with your promotion after all— or should you even tell him? You could keep it from him and quit, but then you’d hurt him even more by lying and losing your income.

You sighed before you walked in, the way his face lit up upon seeing you effectively stabbing you right in the heart. He wiped his hand on his apron, adorned with silly ducks and a house warming gift from one of your friends, before he approached you. You didn’t let him hug you, however, placing your hand on his chest while your other gripped onto the cursed folder within which were the documents that bound you to the company.

He seemed shocked before he seemed hurt.

You worldlessly handed him the folder, moving past him to sit down on the chairs by the isle, leaning onto the counter with a finger to your temple, rubbing down in an attempt to soothe yourself. When you looked back at him at last, he was already turned towards you. Even though you weren’t next to him, you could tell that he was shaking, his eyes filling with tears as he held onto the paper you did the same to.

“When?”

His voice betrayed him, shaking. He sounded unstable and upset, and you didn’t blame him in the slightest. You took a deep breath, “The promotion? Today. The move… on Wednesday, next week.” You wavered slightly, voice quieting down. He nodded, a pained smile spreading onto his lips, the tears finally slipping down his cheeks. You stood up, nearing him again, but when you reached up to try and cup his cheek he simply moved away.

“You should pack,” he said it in such a tone that you can feel the ice of his words freeze over the blood in your veins, “you should really pack.”

You grabbed his wrist instead, just as he’s about to lift his hand to close the folder. Yoonoh’s never been a violent guy— he’s never done anything rash or moved in a harsh way— but he tore his hand from your grasp, moving further away from you. He didn’t waver again, extending the folder to you.

“Go.”

You took the folder, gripping it to your chest and getting closer once more, “Yoonoh-“ “No.” he sounded mad, cold and he begun driving a rift between you. You opened your mouth again, but he simply turned away from you and began walking towards the living room opposite the dining area. You followed closely behind, calling his name once more, and although you didn’t expect him to react and were about to plead for him to listen, he turned back sharply with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t want to hear it, actually. You know it’s not easy for me to go with you, and it’s not easy for me to see you go either,” he sounded venomous, hurt. Your resolve cracks at its edges and the folder is discarded on top of your shoe stand.

“I don’t want to quit, Yoonoh-“ but he interrupted you again, “I know, (Y/N). I’m painfully aware you’re not going to quit, and I know I won’t let you do it anyway. But I’m not going to watch you leave me just like this, and I know you’ll try to convince me to come with you. You know I can’t.”

“And why not?” you hissed, eyes welling up yet again, “You know you could! You’d just have to-“

“Quit, leave all our friends and our family, settle with you and try to look for another job.” He harshly whispered before laughing humorlessly, “You know I won’t do that. I love my job, and I love you but I also love being here, and I don’t want to leave.”

You crossed your arms, the sense of pressure rushing all the way from your toes to the very top of your head, and the ache spreading through your body hurts in a much different way, “So you’re scared of change?”

This seemed to tip him over, and the tears on his cheeks raced down faster, a shuddering breath reaching your ears, “I think it’s best you leave. I really do.”

He turned away from you, closing the door to the living room and accompanying it with the click of the key inside the lock. It all suddenly rushed forward, and you felt yourself collapse emotionally, your sleeve failing to catch the stray tears as you rushed up the stairs.

You packed it all; your clothes, your special products, your pictures, devices and everything you had. It was a sad sight to see that two suitcases were all of your belongings for the past couple years, but you nonetheless rush them down while dialing the only person you know would be willing to help; Doyoung.

You opted not to drive in your confusion, rage and sadness, instead calling him to come pick you up. Your friend was sensible enough, obviously, though the concerned expression he donned and the same he pointed towards your front door told you that he was going to ask questions, and invest himself in this. Yoonoh and him were better friends, you knew this, though Doyoung was very much the type of person to judge someone based on information rather than relation, for which you were very grateful.

The ride to his place was mostly quiet, save for him insisting you can stay the whole week at his place and you claiming that a hotel would be fine. He didn’t let you go through with it, though, and even brought your luggage up to his guest room. His mother looked at you with so much sympathy— Miss Kim even hugged you tightly, enough to make you burst out into more tears— and Doyoung’s father chimed in with his own support, letting you know you’re always welcome.

The week was spent saying goodbye to your family members first, then the friends who you also had to apologize to, save for Doyoung. He made sure to help you with shopping for the trip itself as well, and even looked up the address your company gave and did the necessary research on the building while you worked and prepared.

Doyoung’s mum was even polite enough to go get your car from your (or Yoonoh’s, you weren’t sure quite yet) house, and his dad helped set up ads for the car to be sold. He also cheekily mentioned he would buy it off of you had he known how to drive your car specifically, to which you seriously offered to teach him how to use an automatic.

You were reading up on a tourist guide the night before your flight, when the door to Doyoung’s room opened slowly. Miss Kim carried a tray of fruit, and an expression of pure concern donned onto her aging face. You sat up properly in the computer chair, and she set the plates on the desk before taking a deep breath.

“Someone’s here to see you.”

Even though she didn’t explicitly state who, you knew. You knew Yoonoh was there, and it was excitement which bled into you first, closely followed by embarrassment. This was your friend’s house, where his parents lived no less, and yet your boyfriend (or was it now ex? You hoped not) showed up to see you, most likely talk to you as well. You had to compose yourself first before you nodded, following Miss Kim downstairs.

And really, there he was, again, though he seemed somehow paler. You had to gulp down your nervousness as you descended, whispering to him in passing that you want to take this outside. The Kims’ property was very large, intricately fenced, and you had no fear of the neighbours being snoopy here. Yoonoh, on the other hand, made you incredibly fearful, for whatever his words would be.

He avoided your gaze at first, though you uttered a ‘well?’ to get his attention, which made him regard you with shock, as if you broke him out of a reverie.

“I, uh…” he struggled, wringing his hands within one another before cracking his knuckles. You knew that he was nervous now, certainly.

“I’m sorry,” Yoonoh began with caution, “I shouldn’t have kicked you out. I shouldn’t even have acted like that. I-I… I wanted to wish you a safe trip,” his gaze fell onto the soft grass of the front yard of the Kims’ house, but you knew that if he were to look at you he’d want to say something else. You just had no idea what.

You reached up to cup his cheek, to which he responded by leaning his head into your palm, making you chuckle. “What do you want to tell me, sweet boy?” you tilted your own head, your eyes betraying that you were both upset and still very much in love with the man in front of you.

He snapped up as if he got bitten all of a sudden, settling on watching you. It took Yoonoh time, you knew this, and so you stayed calm, thumb slowly massaging the skin of his face. The silence was heavy, and yet somehow more comforting, warm. You posed that it could be because of how long it seemed since you last saw him, the trick of time making it feel as if it’s been more than just six days.

Yoonoh chuckled suddenly, bringing you back to the real life as he gripped your hand with his, indicating that he was ready; “I won’t move with you. I’m staying here. But I want this to work— I can’t without us. Even if it’s distance.”

You blinked once, twice, before you felt tears sting at your eyes and leave just as soon as they came. It felt as if he was confessing once again, like you were freshmen and he was just your friend who you liked a lot, and who you knew you’d end up loving. The warmth of the evening was equally reminiscent to the warmth of that evening, sitting together at a pathetic excuse of a beach bonfire party, and far away from the world. He was the only person you could see right now, and you wanted it to stay this way, maybe even forever.

Your breath hitched, and you nodded, before he took the initiative to hug you tightly. Whispered ‘I missed you’s and proclamations of love were exchanged, and yet again you felt yourself shedding way too many tears, staining your cheeks.

You stand at the airport, very familiar luggage in hand. None of your family was available today, which Mr. Kim found outrageous enough to make an entourage of his own, inviting your friends and of course himself and his wife, as well as Doyoung. You hug each and every one of the people in the party (though it takes a bit to separate from a sniffling Donghyuck who promises to sneak onto the flight in case you’re lonely). Until you reach Yoonoh.

You smile at him, which he reciprocates with a bit of an unsure but delightfully dimpled one of his own. He takes your hand first, and whispers in your ear while everyone else observes, and then he moulds his lips against your forehead, wishing you a safe flight.

You depart with joy on your face, but sorrow in your stomach. You wave, and wave, until you have to board and leave.

And when you’re on the plane, finally taking off, Yoonoh’s words ring in your mind once again.

‘I’ll see you next month, my darling.’

[bijvoorbeeldja]

Insta-Famous!Sander AU -- Chapter 2

Read Chapter 1

Chapter 2: Robbe

Robbe was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He hadn’t slept well last night, and his head was aching at the barrage of anxiety and stress that was coursing through him in a near constant storm. 

He’d had so much shit to deal with the last few months, and his body was feeling the effects of disturbed sleep, anxious thoughts, and loss of appetite. It was hard to even get out of bed at all, much less carry on with school and his social life. Which, as it turns out, was basically imploding. 

Since he’d come out, his relationships with his friends had undergone some serious strain. Of course there was the whole mess with Noor, who he genuinely tried to make things worth with….but it just hadn’t. Jens had taken it well, if not a little frustrated that Robbe had taken so long to tell him. Robbe also suspected he was a little humiliated by the thought that Robbe had once harbored feelings for him. So they moved on and didn’t bring it up again, keeping their conversations safely nestled between school and skating. Aaron and Moyo, on the other hand, had responded in disgust and confusion, leaving Robbe feeling withdrawn and ostracized. So much for the “broerrrs.”

To make matters more complicated, he wasn’t even living at home anymore. Recently, his mom’s health had taken a turn for the worse and she was undergoing treatment at a nearby mental hospital. He missed her, and missed the familiarity of home — his room and his routine. He’d been able to rent a room in a flat of a girl at school, Zoe, and while he liked Zoe, her boyfriend Senne, and the flat owner Milan, he still felt out of place. He was lonely and hating how confusing and complicated his life had become. He just wanted to feel like himself...and to be loved.

His phone buzzed, jolting him back to his surroundings: deep morning light that was reminding him that time was passing and he couldn’t remain in bed all day, and the clink of dishware that meant his roommates were cooking. He could smell near-burning odors wafting underneath his door. He signed and grabbed his phone, unlocking it to check the handful of messages that had entered his group text with the broerrrs. 

Jens: meet @ the park today? I’ve got weed

Aaron: in that case, you know I’m there

Moyo: can’t we go somewhere with more chicks???

Jens: You couldn’t get them anyway, man

Jens: Robbe, u in?

Robbe blew out a heavy breath. His fingers hovered over keys, hesitant. 

Robbe: I should probably do some schoolwork today

Someone was typing back instantly, making Robbe’s palms sweat. God, he was pathetic. 

Moyo: screw that man, it’s Saturday

Moyo: plus, maybe we’ll get papped again?

Aaron: papped?

Moyo: You know, that art hipster who was taking photos for his school project?

Robbe: Someone was taking photos of us?? What the hell?

Jens: Dude, you didn’t know? Yeah, some alternative dude in hipster glasses asked if he could take some photos of us skating for a school thing

Aaron: makes sense, we’re so good looking

Jens: He was trying to get some artsy shots by that graffiti near the ramp. He gave me his handle so we could look at them, let me try to find it

Aaron: yeah better make sure he got my good side

Moyo: wasn’t aware you had one of those

Aaron: 🖕

Jens sent a photo.

Robbe stared at the screen, feeling suddenly flushed. 

Aaron: Duuuuude, Robbe you’re famous!!!

Moyo: hot stuff  😏 

Jens: Are you seeing the comment, though???

Moyo: who the hell is earthlingoddity?

Jens: Just LOOK at his page

The chat was silent for a few moments as everyone pulled up the account on their screen. Robbe stared at the artsy black and white photos and selfies on the account, not exactly sure what he was looking at. Or who.

Aaron: seriously?? SANDER DRIESEN? What the hell!!

Jens: I know, right?! 

Robbe went back to the account, trying to puzzle the pieces together. After a few moments, he gave up and retreated back to the chat. 

Robbe: So...who is Sander Driesen?

Moyo: dude, you have obviously not spent enough time around girls

Robbe: ….well, yeah. The reason for that is fairly obvious

Moyo: Sander is that influencer from here that all the girls are obsessed with 

Influencer? Robbe thought. He pulled Sander’s page back up, startled suddenly when he saw that the boy had more than 500,000 followers. What? How was that possible? All he posted, from what Robbe could tell, were half-naked selfies and...okay, so maybe Robbe had just focused on those. Like, he wasn’t bad looking…

Jens: Yeah, I cannot get Jana to stop talking about him 😑

Robbe: Better watch out, he’ll be coming for your girl

Jens: HA doubt it

Aaron: Sander is gay, I think? Or not gay, but the kind that likes girls, too?

Robbe groaned. His friends were idiots. 

Robbe: Bisexual?

Aaron: Yeah, that one

Moyo: well, clearly he’s more YOUR speed, Robbe. Plus, based on the comment, he’s clearly interested

Moyo: you gotta respond 

Robbe: are you kidding? 

Robbe: no way

Jens: C’mon Robbe! He was asking about you!

Robbe laughed loudly to himself in disbelief.

Robbe: ...to his friend? And that would literally be the creepiest thing ever. Besides, he wasn’t even really asking about me specifically? 

Robbe: it was more like the photo in general

Jens: right….

Moyo: if you won’t respond, I will and I’ll tag you

Robbe: don’t u dare

Moyo: …

Robbe: I WILL KILL U

Aaron: so we meeting up today or what

Robbe never thought he’d be so grateful for Aaron’s off-topic interjection. But thankfully, with that the Sander conversation that was making Robbe’s skin prickle and palms sweat was over. He kicked the bed cover off of him, trying to cool the humiliated blush that had crept over his body. Now that the group chat was onto other things, like what skatepark and what time, he had a moment to return to the photo of himself. 

He hadn’t even known it was being taken. Apparently all his friends had. He had been pretty distracted, not with the skating, but with everything that was going on in his head. He seemed to do everything in a fog these days. In that shot, he looked so...intent, so focused, and he felt weirdly vulnerable that someone had captured him like this. But more vulnerable that someone had noticed him, and commented. 

And Sander Driesen? He’d never heard of him before, but then again, he was sort of out of the loop with popular stuff, unless it was video games or action movies. He returned to Sander’s page and scrolled through it, staring shamelessly at the boy, who really was handsome. He had bleached blonde hair that was a little tousled on top, with dark roots underneath. He had tan skin and a boyish shape, but...it definitely wasn’t unattractive, Robbe thought. 

He posted often about his art, which truthfully, took Robbe’s breath away. It was serious and skilled, but at the same time...it had an air of freedom in it, like it was the way the boy could finally let go of everything. He scrolled through the feed until he nearly reached the bottom, finding pictures of Sander that were more than several years old, when the boy was young. 

Okay, I’ve to stop this?? Robbe thought.

He took one last glance at the photo of himself before he noticed something. In the last few minutes, the photographer had responded to Sander’s comment.

Robbe sat up in bed like he had been electrocuted. He brought the screen closer to his face as he inhaled sharply and read the reply.

Earthlingoddity: Hey man, cool pic. Who’s the kid? 

verfdoordecijfers: thanks, man. Was some kid I met at the skatepark by the restaurant with the French food. He and his friends let me snap some photos for our composition assignment. 

Sander had liked the reply.

[justanotherone16]

He pressed send. And then he waited. The extreme tedium of simply waiting was not something that Mycroft Holmes could tolerate. His brother’s erratic behaviour and inability to accept the normalities of every day life was well known, and indeed Mycroft’s unwillingness to play along with the inane and mundane of ‘normality’ could well be inferred. Few people, however, successfully inferred or recognised that Mycroft’s consequent impatience manifested as restlessness too.

Dr Watson would surely come. He always does. Mycroft drummed his fingers rhythmically on the black folder that rested upon his lap. In times gone by Sherlock didn’t have a Dr Watson that Mycroft could go to with sensitive information, or emotional conundrums. No, in times gone by, he just had to take it straight to his brother. All things considered the widening of the tiny pocket of trust around Sherlock was a good thing; there was considerably less chaos.

A thick film of fog choked London, almost Dickensian in its persistence to blanket the city. November was in full swing and the days were drawing in rapidly. Today, the fog and the biting, piercing cold only served to cheer on the early darkness, that was knocking at the door in spite of it being just 15:42.

Mycroft was so lost in his pondering that he was somewhat startled when the car door opened suddenly and the familiar figure of John Watson ducked into the car and settled next to him.

The scent of winter air clung to John’s coat and his cheeks were rosy with cold. He rubbed his hands together in a feeble attempt to warm them.

“I hope you’ve planned at a stop at a coffee shop, I’m freezing my bollocks off” John joked as leaned back into his seat and blew hot air in between his hands.

Mycroft pushed the small red button near his window which rang through to the driver. “The closest Nero please.”

The car pulled away slowly and joined the chaos of the London afternoon traffic. “I didn’t expect you to agree, should I be worried?” John asked lightly.

Mycroft didn’t speak, he just opened the folder in his lap, which had been fulfilling a singularly percussive purpose while he had been awaiting John’s arrival. Mycroft took 3 separate pieces of paper and passed them wordlessly to John.

John’s brow furrowed as he scrutinised the contents, trying to understand the context. “Okay so three dead men... yeah I don’t get it. Why are you showing me these?”

Mycroft took a deep breath, placed the folder on the seat beside him. “Jonathan Callaghan, Zachary Noble and Jack Sharpe. Long-term heroin addicts that Sherlock has had previous associations with. All overdosed on Tuesday evening.”

“Shit... how?” John shook his head as he perused the documents, wincing inwardly at the photographs.

“Their heroin was laced with a fatally high level of fentanyl. It would seem that the quality of heroin circulating the streets of London is categorically unsafe.” Mycroft gave John a knowing look.

“I don’t think he’s using”.

“No, he isn’t. I would know”. Mycroft assured John.

John put the paper down and turned to face the elder Holmes. He was balding quickly now; ageing fast.

“Right so, why are you telling me?” John asked.

Mycroft rubbed his face with his left hand and when he spoke, there was more than a hint of resignation. “Because Sherlock will hear of these deaths soon, and more I should imagine. Many of his homeless network will fall victim to this. And... Jonathan in particular, was quite close to Sherlock, well about as close as anyone could get to him during this time of his life. Jonathan saved his life three times. Once he personally provided mouth to mouth and administered adrenaline that I had provided him with. The other two occasions he called me, even on pain of death from Sherlock. I... well I will always be grateful that Jonathan was with Sherlock in those... instances.”

John was sat dumb struck. That was a lot to take in; a great deal to unpack, with a man who rarely paused long enough to unpack anything.

“So, Sherlock will be upset? I’ve never heard him mention any of them, or Jonathan?” John tried.

“I should think so... He rarely discusses his past with drugs, I think because the regret, shame and fear of the power it had over him is too much. But, I do fear when he finds out he will be somewhat aggrieved. I don’t believe he will seek out drugs to cope with that, given what he will know about the chemical composition. But I can never be sure with Sherlock. And when I saw, saw these photos of these men. Men I have interacted with, men who have saved my brother’s life on more than one occasion- dead... I can’t help but picture, in my worst nightmare, Sherlock in the same state. This news will come to him. Not from me, probably not from you. But he will hear. And once again Doctor Watson I must ask you to look after him. Please.” Mycroft’s voice was uncharacteristically small. The pain of the past and anxiety for the future swam in his eyes.

“Of course I will look after him. Always. Although, for all of Sherlock’s complaining it doesn’t sound like you’ve done such a bad job yourself. In these kinds of conversations, I am increasingly surprised that Sherlock was alive to meet me.” John lowered his voice too. He didn’t see eye to eye with Mycroft and he never would. And there were half a million things that John wanted to tear into Mycroft for. But the care he had for his brother was clear and unrivalled.

“Thank you, John.” Mycroft smiled weakly.

John smiled grimly in return. “So alongside being there for Sherlock and keeping an eye out. You know he will pursue this. Try to find the source and stamp it out?”

Mycroft nodded and took a long sharp breath. “Yes I know. And I’m sure he will be successful. I’m primarilh concerned at how he will take the passing of Jonathan, Zachary, and Jack. You know... He went back to find them once he had gotten clean himself, for his longest period of sobriety, not long before he met you. He offered to fund their own rehabs. All three men declined of course. For various personal reasons.”

John was consistently surprised at what he did not know about Sherlock. While the pair of them virtually ignored the swathes of Sherlock’s life that were taken up by being high and shooting up, the effects and associated risks seemed to lurk everywhere.

“Perhaps I should tell him? Tell him what you’ve told me so that we have some control of the situation?” John asked.

“No. Sherlock won’t appreciate the idea that I am soundboarding you. If you must bring it up. Tell him only that I had made you aware of the lethality of heroin currently for sale in London and nothing else.” Mycroft firmly answered.

The car stopped outside a cafe Nero and the driver got out of the car, locked it, and strode into the shop to order coffee.

“When Henry returns with your coffee, walk back to Baker Street. Sherlock will assume you got the Metropolitan line at 4pm.” Mycroft said conspiratorially.

John nodded and defaulted to silently waiting for the driver to return with his coffee. “Are you okay Mycroft?” John asked seriously.

“Me? Yes of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

John just eyeballed Mycroft, trying to the best of his ability to convey a ‘don’t be dense, I’m not fucking stupid’ sentiment in response.

Mycroft stood down his defences and sighed. “Yes, I am okay. Just, let me know how Sherlock is. And... I’ll, well I’ll thank our lucky stars that Sherlock did live past 30. And have a quiet toast to Jonathan Callaghan, who saved my brother 3 times and deserved far more than he got in life. That’s your coffee John. Don’t worry, it’s decaf, soya milk, one vanilla syrup shot. Text me if you need anything.”

A steaming cup of coffee was passed back to John. He couldn’t help but notice the Christmas theme on the cup- that time already?!

“Right, yes, yeah. Thanks for the coffee and, um take care. I’ll be in touch.” John said climbing out of the car, the chill in the air swiping at him as he did so.

[softyoongiionly]

Fear and Dumplings: Chapter Fourteen

(GIF isn’t mine)

Confronting your fears for a final grade sounds unappealing but, with Yoongi as your partner, things might not be so bad.

Summary: You’re in your final semester at University when your Abnormal Psychology professor assigns you a partnered project surrounding your greatest fears. Lucky for you, your partner just so happens to be a cute boy named Min Yoongi.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Underground Rapper! Yoongi, Soft!!! Yoongi, Fluff!!!, some moderate angst (later), smut (later later), slow-ish? burn.

Word Count: 10.3k (lol, i wanna die) 

A/N: please scream along with me as I drown in a pile of emotion. I’m sorry the last three chapters have been so emotional, yoongi is a complicated boi and, needs roughly 25k to get out all of his feelings. ALSO, the next chapter will finally feature Jimin’s showcase, please send him love and good luck. Not like he needs it lmao

I LOVE YOU

Warnings for this Chapter: moderate angst, SMUT (oh my god its alot), mentions of anxiety and hardship, language, too many feelings.

Warnings for the Fic: mentions characters confronting their fears, characters in uncomfortable situations, emotional moments between characters, mentions of bad parenting, explicit language throughout the fic, moderate angst, and very explicit smut later in the story.

Chapter 14: Angels and Angels

“Jimin, if you move again, I’m going to shove this needle into your perfectly sculpted butt cheek…” You mutter, pinching Jimin’s ass, the sweat on your brow growing significantly.  

This causes a giggle to erupt from your best friend, who is currently contorting his body so that he can stare at himself in the mirror. 

“Yah! Do you miss your little boyfriend that much that you have to take your sexual frustration out on me?” Jimin wiggles his ass in your face and, you admonish him with a smack to his hip as you try your best to finish sewing his costume. 

Jimin called you that morning in a panic after he had ripped his showcase outfit during rehearsal so, you had quickly rushed over after your morning classes to resolve his crisis. 

“He’s not my boyfriend…” You counter, a smile threatening your mouth, “I do miss him though…” 

Jimin stalls his movements, allowing you to finish up, “You really like him don’t you?” 

The smile comes in full force but, thankfully Jimin is facing away from you when it does. 

“Maybe…” 

He rolls his eyes but, allows your vague response, turning slightly to examine your handy work, “You should invite him tomorrow, I still haven’t met him…” 

There is a flutter in your stomach at Jimin’s suggestion. You know that Jimin gets extra credit for the number of people that attend and, having Yoongi there would fill an extra seat. 

All the more reason to invite him… 

“I mean, it’s a big night for you Minnie, if you’re ok with him being there then, I’ll see if he’s free.” You attempt to keep your tone casual but, you’re slightly nervous at the thought of Yoongi being there as your date. 

Professor James cancelled Tuesday’s lecture due to illness and, Yoongi texted you Thursday morning that he wouldn’t be in class that day. Not seeing him for an entire week didn’t exactly sit well with you but, you were determined to not read too much into his absence.  

Jimin smirks, smoothing his hands over his hips, head tilting side to side in the mirror, “It’s my fourth showcase Y/N, it’s not that big of a deal…” 

A scoff leaves your lips, “Um??? It’s your senior showcase, you’re the reigning champion and, you’re about to make history as the only collegiate dancer to win the showcase four years in a row; of course it’s a big deal!” 

He giggles as you shove him playfully, a bit of nervousness creeping into his gaze, “You really think I’m going to win again?” 

 “Jimin,” You turn him towards you, holding each of his wrists in your hands, “I know you’re going to win again.” 

His beautiful smile graces his lips as he thrusts himself in your arms, the white sequins scratching against your skin. You hold him anyway though, you know he needs it. 

“Thank you…” He mumbles into your hair, “I don’t know what I’d do without you…” 

You smile into his neck, the warmth of Jimin’s words filling your heart, “Oh Jimin….I don’t know what you’d do either…” 

He pinches your side, “YAH! Don’t be mean! I would survive…maybe…” 

Squirming out of his hold, you giggle, patting his hip gently, “I don’t know what I’d do without you either Park Fairy. I’d probably die…” 

He points at you,” Exactly, don’t be a brat…” His tone his firm but, the smile on his lips is hard to miss. Jimin turns his attention back towards his full length mirror again to examine his costume. 

It’s a beautiful piece, skintight, covered in white sequins and, thin pearlescent lycra that hug Jimin’s body perfectly. You wondered if this was his entire costume as Jimin was known for quite an elaborate set up. 

“I love this costume by the way, it’s beautiful,” You marvel, putting all of your sewing tools back in their box, “Is the theme still a surprise or can you end my suffering and tell me?” 

Jimin smirks, eyes carefully scanning over his backside,” It’s still a surprise, my leotard is only the base piece, I have a lot more in store…” 

“RIP my mascara…” You lament, snapping your sewing kit shut before grabbing your phone off of the coffee table, “Should I text him now?” 

He giggles, amusement coloring his face as he turns to you, “Why do you look so nervous?” 

“I’m not nervous.” You grumble, thumbs tapping away at your screen to get to your message thread with the dreamiest rapper on Earth aka Min Yoongi.  

The last message that you sent him was wishing him luck on the rest of his composition, which he has been working tirelessly at for the last half of the semester. He only responded with a thumbs up emoji and, that was yesterday at 7:49pm.  

Suddenly, as your fingers hover over the keys, you feel slightly insecure at the lack of communication between the two of you. Last weekend had been amazing and, Yoongi made sure that you arrived back at your apartment safely and during the week he had said something to the effect of ‘I miss you’ without actually saying it.  

Jimin notices your hesitation, “What’s wrong?” 

Your teeth find purchase on your lip but, you avoid his gaze and focus in on your phone. 

“Nothing…I just_” A sigh leaves your lips as you tap the screen to keep it from going black, “ I don’t know… Yoongi and I had a really good time last weekend and, I’m used to not really hearing from him but, I kind of thought after everything that happened between us, there would be a little more communication. I don’t expect him to text me all day or anything but, we both agreed that we liked each other….a lot so, I thought he’d…” 

“Act like a boyfriend?” Jimin offers, a bit of his playfulness diminishing, focusing in on your emotions. 

The word sends butterflies through your stomach but, you shove them out, trying not to drown in your emotions. 

“No…I mean yeah but, like we aren’t together yet so, I can’t expect him to…I don’t know…” Articulating your emotions is not always your strong suit and, for whatever reason, you seem to become especially impaired when Yoongi is involved. 

“Jagi…” Jimin begins, sitting beside you, the sequins scratching your skin as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “…you’re allowed to want his attention regardless of whether or not you both have a title. Titles are nice but, the feelings are much more important…” 

You deflate a little bit, leaning into Jimin, your teeth still working against your lip, “I really like him…like I want to wake up next to him and, make him breakfast and do cute shit with him and, I’m not used to feeling like this and, I want to crawl into a hole and, never come out…” 

Your pink fairy giggles, pressing a kiss to your head “Yah, you’re not allowed to crawl into a hole, my showcase is tomorrow…” 

“Can I do it after your showcase?” You mutter against his leotard, your thumb tapping your screen again to ensure that it doesn’t go black.  

Jimin scoffs, “I literally just told you that I can’t live without you, do you want me to die?”  

His brows are raised in playful accusation and, you try your best not to get to distracted by how adorable he is. 

“No...” You grumble, lips fixed in a firm pout 

He chuckles now, nudging your hand towards your phone, “Okay then, text him.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you unlock your phone for the third time and, begin typing your message. 

You: Hey, I’m not sure what you’re up to tomorrow, I know you’ve been working on your composition but, my best friend is performing in a dance showcase in the main theater. Do you want to come? I figured we could carpool and, maybe get dinner afterwards or something? Let me know when you get a chance! 

By the end of your message, you feel your heart doing somersaults beneath your sternum. Why the hell were you so nervous? Shouldn’t you be passed this by now? 

“See? I knew you could do it...” Jimin cheers, kissing your head once more before moving to carefully take off his costume. 

“Yes, now I just have to endure a slow painful death while waiting for him to respond...”  A sickly sweet smile is on your mouth which causes Jimin to throw his head back in laughter. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the dramatic one in this friendship?” 

“No Jimin, you’re the beautiful and talented main character and, I...”You gesture to your chest, “...am your socially inept, quirky side kick...” 

This earns another boisterous round of laughter from your best friend who is currently checking out his nearly naked body in the mirror.  

“Okay, first of all, thank you for calling me beautiful. Second of all, you’re can’t possibly be the sidekick...” 

Your eyes narrow, “Why not?” 

Jimin whips around in your direction, bubblegum hair a disheveled mess ontop of his head, a brilliant smile on his pretty lips, 

“Because you’re my hero...” 

With a mouth parted in shock, you process just how ridiculous your best friend is. At your expression,  

Jimin rushed into another fit of laughter as you respond. 

“Alexa, play Hate That I Love You by Rihanna...” 

 ------------------

After Jimin leaves, you wait approximately 5 hours before getting a response from Yoongi. The response does nothing to aid in soothing your nerves:

Yoongi: Hey sorry it took me so long to respond. I’ve been working, I think I may be able to go but, I was wondering what you were doing right now. I’m having some trouble sorting through something, I know it’s late though, so I understand if you’re sleeping.

Your brow furrows. His message seems odd but, you don’t want to pass up an opportunity to see him. Plus, you definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that he’s having an issue.

You: I can come by, what’s the address? Are you ok?

5 more minutes pass before another message comes in,

Yoongi: I just want to hang out, this week has been kind of rough.

Yoongi: 8294 Han Road. I’m in the 4th studio space. Just ring the front and, tell them you’re here for me, they should let you through. Sorry it’s so late.

You frown at his admission, wanting nothing more than to be with him now that you know your suspicion is correct.

You: Don’t be sorry, I’ll be there as soon as I can.

His message comes through within seconds and, you can’t help but feel a little nervous at seeing him in his studio. There’s also this feeling; a feeling that indicates that something is wrong. Yoongi has never asked you to come see him and, that paired with his odd behavior this past week has your stomach in knots.

What if he didn’t want to see you anymore?

You both agreed that you liked eachother but, life was busy for the both of you. The conversation on the Ferris wheel inches its way back to the forefront of your mind. Yoongi said that you two getting together would be a bad idea, was he returning to that conclusion?

 He never explained why he felt that way in the first place.

The Uber ride to Yoongi’s studio costs you $9.78. You didn’t realize how close he was to your apartment and, as the car pulls up to the faded brick building, you feel your heartbeat grow to an alarming level.

“Thank you, have a good night…”

“No problem, have a good one.”

The exchange with the driver is short and, given that he didn’t talk to you the entire car ride, you decide to rate him 5 stars.

 As you approach the front entrance, you notice the soft blue neon sign hanging off of the door that reads: SoundCrowd.

Clever.

You’re definitely in the right place.

The door swings open effortlessly and, you’re met with an empty lobby. Tables, chairs and, various flyers containing the studios information are the only things that greet you when you walk in. The clear glass that separates the lobby from the reception desk make the whole place feel like some sort of medical clinic; it’s not exactly a beacon of creative energy. You hope Yoongi’s studio space was less clinical.

“Can I help you?” A deep but, friendly voice calls from behind the glass.

The receptionist is an older guy, maybe in his mid-30s, wearing what looks to be a ghost busters pajama set.

“Yeah, I was looking for Yoongi? He said he was in the 4th studio space…”

The man smirks knowingly, “You’re here for Min huh? Tell you what, I’ll let you through but, you have to promise me you’ll try to get him to go home. The dude’s been here for like four days straight…”

Your brow furrows, “Four days? Are you serious, he hasn’t gone home or anything?”

The man clicks his tongue, “I live upstairs, and his car’s been here since Monday. He used my shower about an hour ago but, other than that, I don’t even think he’s left the room…”

A sigh leaves your lips at the information, “Jesus.”

“Are you his girlfriend?”

The word makes your heart go fuzzy and, your first instinct is to say yes but, the last thing you need is for Yoongi to find out that you made your relationship official without him.   

“Uh no, we’re just_” You trail off, searching for the right word, “we’re dating but, he’s been a friend of mine for quite a while…”

He smirks, waving you over to him, “No need to explain, I’m just happy Min is getting some sort of human interaction. He’s been a god tier introvert ever since I’ve known him. I’m Sejin by the way…”

A hand is extended through the opening in the glass and, you accept it graciously, bowing your head.

“Y/N,” You smile, “it’s really good to meet you. How long have you guys known each other?”

Sejin squints his eyes for a moment, tilting his head in thought, “Oh geez uh, let’s see, Yoongi’s 25 this year…uh…ten years maybe?”

Your brows go up, “Oh wow, are you from Daegu too?”

At your seemingly normal question, Sejin grows visibly uncomfortable, as if a realization just crossed his brain. You fear you may be asking too many questions but before you can amend, Sejin speaks up again.

“Uh, Yoongi’s never mentioned me has he?”

“No, he hasn’t, I’m sorry…” You smile looking towards the buzzer near Seijin’s hand, wishing you would have just asked him to buzz you in.

“Oh don’t be sorry at all,” A soft smile is sent your way as he sees that you may have gotten the wrong impression. Sejin nods toward the door, “Yoongi lived with me for a while when he first came to the city, I’m a friend of his older brother. I’m sure he’ll tell you more about it if you ask; Here let me buzz you in, he’ll be straight down the hall to your right.”

Confusion swirls in the forefront of your mind but, you smile nonetheless, turning towards the door, “Thank you so much, it was nice meeting you.”

He bows his head, offering a small smile, “Nice meeting you too.”

There are rooms lining either side of the long hallway, some of which emit a low hum of music through their barriers.  Yoongi certainly isn’t the only night owl plugging away in the building.

Turning right at the end of the hall, you’re met with a black door boasting a sign that read “#4.” The irregular heartbeat is back as you raise your hand to knock at the door but, your desire to finally see Yoongi after nearly a week overruns the nervousness that you feel.

“Come in.” You hear his voice through the door and, quickly, you turn the knob and, let yourself in.

You’re met with a confusing sight. 

The studio space was dimly lit with a low hanging turquoise fixture that sends a calming wave of light throughout the small room. The walls contain various speakers and, electrical equipment and, along with a work desk, you notice a giant monitor, nearly the size of a flat screen and, every production tool that any musician could ever dream of. However, there was also several indicators that Sejin was right about Yoongi never leaving this room. There’s a black pull out couch on the right side of the room that looks like he hasn’t been slept in, a few pieces of Yoongi’s clothes scattered on the floor and, perhaps the most disturbing thing is the overflowing trashcan in the far corner of the room containing nothing but empty coffee cups. From what you can tell, there isn't a single take out box so, that either means that Yoongi has been taking his food trash out or, that he hasn’t been eating at all.

And then there’s Yoongi, who’s just turned to look at whoever just came through his door. He’s sitting in the black desk chair,  dressed in a pair of torn up black jeans and a grey hoodie, his formerly platinum hair is a faded brown now and damp from his shower. He musters a small smile for you, his normally cat like eyes are sunken in, clearly from a lack of sleep and, his lips are chapped, another indicator that he hasn’t been taking care of himself.

“Hey you…” You smile, setting your purse down by the door, trying to gauge what’s going through his mind.

“Hi…um thank you for coming…” He rasps, his eyes shifting nervously over you, fingers itching to reach out for you.

You shake your head, “Of course, is everything ok?”

Yoongi opens his mouth immediately as if he’s already has an answer prepared but, he deflates soon after, looking at you helplessly, “No, not really I-“

He takes a deep breath, looking away from you, trying to keep it together. You don’t say a word as you close the space between you, moving to stand in front of his seated figure. Instantly, you pull him into a warm hug, holding him tightly, not needing him to explain just yet.

Yoongi feels so much of the tension melt away from his body as he feels your embrace, his arms coming up to reciprocate, burying his face into your hip.

The two of you don’t speak for a few seconds but, you feel Yoongi shake silently, not daring to untuck his face from you as he lets the tears spill over his eyes.

This causes your heart to shatter but, you don’t break the silence yet, allowing him to process his pain how he needs to. You keep him close though and, rub his back soothingly as he collects himself.

“I’m sorry…” He mumbles into your yellow sweatshirt, regretting that he’s staining the material with tears, “I should have texted you more, I just…this week’s been really hard.”

You shake your head, holding him tighter, “Don’t be sorry, I knew you were working on your project this week, it’s completely ok…”

This is said for his benefit of course, you didn’t want him to worry about your fear that he had lost interest when he clearly had something much more pressing going on.

“I wanted to text you…the first night I got like this but-“ He cuts himself off to sniffle, still not releasing you from his grip. “I didn’t want to bother you, or freak you out or anything…”

“Hey-“ You tilt his face towards yours, thumbing away one of the tears that is attempting to roll down his face, “-you’re never a bother to me, especially if something is wrong…”

He turns his face to place a gentle kiss against your thumb before sighing out shakily against your skin, “I can’t get this fucking song right Y/N. I’ve been at this for 5 months now and, it always comes out wrong, I’ve rewritten it like 10 different times and, I can’t do it. It’s shitty. I’m not cut out for this, I’m not good enough to go pro, I should’ve_”

He trails off, his eyes reddening as the tears collect once more at the corners of his eyes, “ I should’ve listened to my father, he told me to major in business, he said this would happen and, he was fucking right.”

His words create a deep ache within your heart.

How could someone so talented, doubt their abilities so much?

It’s not the first time you’ve seen it but, you’ve yet to understand it.

“I know you’re upset, I know that this seems impossible right now and, you’re unbelievably frustrated but, Yoongi…” You tilt his head back towards yours, your gaze growing firmer, “You were born to do this. You are the most talented musician I’ve ever known and, the quality of your stuff? The way you write, the way you think, it’s a sign. It’s a sign that this is what you’re meant to do. You’re not meant to be in a suit, slaving away at a corporate job you don’t even like, that’s what everyone else is doing. Yes, it may be more stable, it may provide a steady income and, give your parents something to brag about but, it isn’t you. Your happiness is in music, I can see that. You light up when you talk about it, you lit up on that fucking stage, and had half the city eating out of the palm of your hands. You are so incredible, you have no idea…”

Yoongi feels his heart swell in his chest, no one has ever spoken to him about his music like this, not with this much passion. But then again, Yoongi’s never known another person like you, he’s never known another that can make him feel so good.

“But jagi…the song…it’s not coming together, my professor is going to hate it…” He urges, anxiety still squirming around in his stomach. He wraps his arms around you tighter though, feeling a bit of comfort at your words.

“Did you think the crowd at Glacier was going to hate your song too?” You point out and, as you do, he bites his lip, sniffling again.

“Yeah…I did…”

A hand is carded gently through his damp hair as you smile down at him, “And look what happened Agust D, you became the city’s champion underground rapper. Did you lock yourself up in this studio and live off of Americanos for weeks on end then too?”

A smile threatens his lips, “You remembered my order…” he sighs, nodding reluctantly at your question, “I do this a lot…”

A breath is released through your nose as you smile gently at his observation but, the frown between your brows remains, “I don’t want to tell you how to live your life Yoongi but, you can’t do this to yourself. I know self-doubt can be borderline parasitic sometimes but, you have to try and cut yourself some slack. I know how hard anxiety can be, I know it can make you feel like the world is coming to an end but, please know that you are so much more capable than you realize. Sometimes it helps to step away from something and, revisit it when you’ve had time to clear your head. I have to do that with my proposals all the time…”

Yoongi moves back slightly to wipe a hand over his face, taking a deep breath as he nods in consideration of your words, “You’re right…I know you’re right. It’s just hard for me not to fall into this cycle sometimes. I got help when I started school, for my anxiety and, it helped but, old habits die hard you know? I just start overthinking everything…I can never get rid of that part.”

You lean down to press a kiss to his forehead before slowly helping him to his feet. “You might not ever get rid of that, you’re only human. Overthinking is my first reaction too but, over the years, I’ve slowly learned to not trust every crazy scenario my brain comes up with.”

He smiles and, this time you see it reach his eyes, the sight calms you significantly. “You’re…”

Yoongi shakes his head, “I knew you’d say the right thing, you always do…”

“Come here.” You smile, pulling him into a hug, tucking your face into his neck, “I’m sorry you’ve been going through this…try to reach out earlier next time ok? So this doesn’t go on so long, you know I’m here for you.”

He nods sagely, rubbing his hands on your lower back, “ I will, I promise…”

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

Roughly an hour later, after you’ve gotten Yoongi to eat a good meal, the two of you start indulging in one another, the lack of contact starting to get to both of you. 

Your lips peck against Yoongi’s gently, just as a means to soothe him, your hands placed firmly on his shoulders.

 “I just...” He whispers against your mouth, attempting to melt away against your touch.   

He needs it, now more than ever.  

“Hm?” You hum gently, combing your fingers through his hair, nails scratching tenderly at his scalp.  

“I just don’t want to think anymore.” He breathes, responding more and more to the kisses placed against his lips.  

The column of his throat is eagerly arching towards your lips in a silent invitation. At the sight of his swallow, tender flesh, you frown at the lack of color there.  

“Your marks are gone.” You murmur, kissing the corner of his mouth  

Yoongi swears he wants to cry. He's kept his distance all week, trying to make sense of his emotions, trying to perfect his composition. But now, with you here, touching him, loving on him, he realizes how desperate he is for you; for relief.  

“Make new ones please...I just want to stop thinking...help me.” He practically keens his response but, he keeps it in check for the most part, not wanting you to consent for the wrong reasons.   

You bring your eyes to his, holding his desperate gaze, a smirk beginning to play on your lips.  

“How do you want me to help you?” You tease, encouraging him to articulate his desires.   

His cheeks flush even more, his Adams apple bobbing as he attempts to swallow back his nerves.  

He doesn’t know what’s come over him but, your tone compels him to his knees and, as his jean clad limbs touch the tile, he speaks, “You know...you know me, you know how to take care of me...”   

The response goes straight between your thighs; his small voice, his display of respect, you can tell this is something he’s had on his mind or awhile and, after the week he’s endured, you conclude that he needs to let loose.   

A finger is curled under his chin, directing his cat-like eyes up towards your own. You can tell he’s nervous but, the way he shifts eagerly on the floor tells you he’s more than ready for you.  

“You think so?” You coo, thumbing over his chin, smirking down at him  

He nods eagerly at the conclusion of your first sentence but, continues to nod throughout your teasing.  

“Use your words...” You urge, tightening your grip on his chin, admiring how beautiful he is on his knees.   

“Ye--...” His voice is already shot so, he clears his throat attempting to speak clearer, “Yes...”  

Your teeth press into your bottom lip, as your hand moves from his chin to push his faded brown hair away from his forehead.  

 “You want me to call the shots so you don’t have to?” You’re taking your time to rile him up, knowing it will pay off for him in the end.  

Another eager nod comes from Yoongi as he pushes against your hand, his doll-like lips going dry from his heavy breathing.  

“Yeah...I trust you; I’ll be so good for you, I promise.” He vows, lips brushing against your wrist, his dark eyes never once leaving yours.  “Please…” 

You tug on his hair then, drawing a whimper deep from within his chest. Yoongi feels his nipples harden as the pain pricks deliciously against his scalp.  

“You like this right? When I pull on it?”   

“Yes.” He breathes, shivering as your fingers brush across his lips and, down over his neck.  

“And...” You whisper, keeping your tone gentle as your hand wraps around Yoongi’s throat.  

This causes him to exhale shakily, his cautious eyes widening like saucers as he stares up at you.  

“Wh-…"  

You attempt to finish your sentence but, Yoongi’s shaky voice beats you to it, his request tumbling clumsily past his lips.  

“Fuck...please choke me...”  

He sounds so weak and, yet so sure of himself at the same time. You two had just begun breaching your sexual interests but, stepping into true dominant/submissive roles is something you’ve yet to do.

Whatever is about to happen, is going to be completely new territory for the both of you.   

The tightening around Yoongi’s throat makes him see stars; he feels like one of those cartoon characters that’s just been hit with a ton of bricks. Its intoxicating.   

“Oh-” Yoongi’s voice is raspier underneath your grip, his dick plumping up painfully against the zipper of his jeans.   

“You like when I choke you?” You coo, still holding his throat but, decreasing the pressure slightly.  

He nods, gasping as you tighten your grip again, testing the waters. Yoongi can already feel the dampness in his jeans but, he doesn’t care, he wants so much more tonight; he wants you to ruin him.   

“Use your words...” You remind him gently, urging him to open up as your free hand combs back through his hair.  

He exhales shakily once again, “Yes...”  

A fond smile is on your face then as you take a moment to run your fingers through his chestnut locks. You slowly urge him towards you so that he’s close enough to rest his chin against the center of your stomach. Yoongi stares up eagerly, awaiting instructions, his breathing uneven and, you take the small moment of silence to tug on his hair again. This causes his hands to come up and grip your outer thighs in desperation and, if he wasn’t already suffering in his jeans before, he definitely is now.   

With a salacious smirk you slowly bend at the waist so you can brush your lips against Yoongi’s, holding his gaze all the while, “I need a safe word from you...can you think of one for me?”   

Yoongi can’t think of anything aside from you at the moment along with his painfully hard dick threatening to bust out of his jeans but, he tries his best to wrack his brain for a suitable answer.  

“Dragon.”   

He scans your face for approval, hoping his choice was sufficient and, if you weren’t fulfilling the role of caretaker, you would be melting onto the floor right now.  

“Dragon it is...” You smile, combing a hand through his hair again, resisting the urge to tug on it, “You use that word anytime you need to ok? And we’ll stop...”  

Yoongi returns your smile, exhaling at the touch of your fingers, “Ok...”  

“Good boy.” The words are spoken into his hair when you lean over to kiss the top of his head. His hands haven’t moved from the outside of your thighs and, at the touch of your lips, he squeezes them again, “Stand up for me.”  

At your request, you move away from him, offering your hands as support. Yoongi looks at them tentatively before interlocking his fingers with yours and, slowly moving to his feet. Through the holes in his jeans, you can see how red his knees got from kneeling on the floor.  

You want the rest of him to match...  

“Come here...” You practically coo at him, curling a finger in your direction, beckoning him towards you. Yoongi never takes his eyes off of you as he takes the three steps necessary to reach you. As he stands before you, you keep his eye contact and, curl your fingers underneath the hem of his grey hoodie.  

“Arms up.”   

He obliges immediately, raising them high above his head, allowing you to slowly pull the material off of his body. Yoongi feels the hairs on his arms stand at attention as the cooler air of the studio hits his exposed skin. Without instruction you hook a finger underneath his chin and, silently bring his lips to yours. The two of you kiss, slow and sweet, taking time to lull deeper into one another. Your tongue slips in first, laving against Yoongi’s timid but eager mouth, as your hands begin slowly moving up the sides of his torso. A smirk is pushed into the kiss when Yoongi shivers at your touch, his whole body on fire for you.   

“You trust me to take care of you right?” You murmur into his mouth and, not two seconds go by before he’s nodding. “You’re gonna be good for me?”  

A half of a whimper slips out of Yoongi’s swollen lips, his hands come out to touch your waist as he nods again.  

“Yes, I’ll be good...”  

You smirk again, deciding that one of your goals tonight is to get Yoongi to feel more comfortable talking dirty to you. It’s a quality he possesses and, you can tell it’s something he’s into but, it takes a certain level of lust to send him there.   

“Why are you gonna be good for me?” The question is spoken between a few kisses and, you can’t express the delight you feel when he’s cheeks go red again.  

“Because-” His words are cut off as you slowly start to tickle your fingers over his ribs, the pads of your thumbs inching toward his erect nipples. “…. you deserve my respect. You deserve my obedience...”  

Good answer.  

“What makes me so deserving hm?” You coo against his neck, sucking gently against the sweet spot at the juncture of his collar bone. Before he can answer, you swipe your thumbs over his nipples. Yoongi swears he already feels like he’s going to pass out but, he does his best to answer coherently.   

“All women deserve my respect but, you...” He breathes, his head falling back on his shoulders, exposing his skin to you,, his hips rutting forward as you continue brushing your thumbs over his nipples, “you’re the best woman I know...you always take care of me, you’re always so nice to me. I wanna give you everything I can, so I’m worthy for you.”   

Yoongi is more than worthy enough for you but, given his history with insecurity, you can’t say his answer surprises you. However, if you weren’t melting into the floor before, you certainly are now.   

“You are worthy angel, come here...” The whispered command brings Yoongi’s mouth back onto yours as he swears he could cry at the particular pet name you just chose.  

Do you really think he’s an angel?  

He can’t imagine why...  

With your bodies pressed together and, your lips delicately tending to his, you speak again, initiating the rest of your plan, “Are you ready to play Yoongi?”  

Another nod comes from the angel in question, his nose nudging against yours as he does,   

“Mhm...”  

God, you didn’t know you’d be this into his submission but, here you are, completely drenched and he hasn’t even touched you yet.   

“Sit down on the chair for me, hands on the arm rests.” 

He follows orders, sitting down on his desk chair, spreading his legs to accommodate the throbbing erection pushing against his zipper.  His long fingers curl over the edges of the arm rests as his chest rises and falls with his increasing heartrate.     

You watch him carefully, mulling over multiple options that will hopefully make him cum so hard he can’t think straight. The first move you make is removing your hoodie, baring your black lacy bra to him: an article of clothing you chose specifically because you knew he liked it.  

The thing is though, Yoongi is no ordinary man. When he’s truly submitting, he does nothing without permission, not even look at you. Even as you step in front of him, Yoongi’s eyes stay glued to the floor but, the ever increasing motion of his chest gives away his reaction.  

“Didn’t you miss me Yoongi? Why aren’t you looking at me?” You grin, knowing the answer already 

He shakes his head, not wanting you to misunderstand him, “I missed you, so much, I just hadn’t asked permission to look at you yet. May I look at you?” 

“You may.” 

He doesn’t need further coaxing. He immediately brings his eyes up to your body, scanning over you eagerly, wincing as he feels his dick twitch in his jeans. 

“So pretty...” He murmurs, eyes full of adoration, “thank you for letting me see you...” 

“Don’t look away.” You demand softly, smirking in his direction as you slowly unclip your bra, revealing your breasts to him. As the cool air of the studio hits your sensitive chest, your nipples harden causing Yoongi to finally lick his lips.  

He wants them in his mouth so badly but, he wouldn’t dare question your plan. He knows you’re going to do right by him. 

“Jagi...” Yoongi pulls in another deep breath to calm himself, resisting the urge to gawk at you, “you’re so beautiful...” 

You’ve moved in closer to him, standing between his thighs in just your leggings before dipping down to kneel on the floor. 

As your nails slowly slide up his legs, you respond, “I wish you knew how beautiful I think you are...maybe then you’d be able to see what I see.” 

Yoongi’s lips part in awe of what you just said, feeling very overwhelmed before the two of you have even started.  

“You think_” He exhales, eyes fluttering with the sensation of your fingers inching closer to the inseam of his jeans, “…you think I’m beautiful?”

Your fingers tickle over his inner thighs before crawling over his unstable hips and towards his zipper. As you reach his erection, your eyes travel to his, catching a glimpse of his fucked out expression. His pupils are dilated, his lips are swollen, cheeks pink and puffy like fresh cherry blossoms, his fingers twitch on the arm rests; he’s growing desperate with anticipation.

“You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen Min Yoongi. I wouldn’t be caught dead on my knees for any other man…” You whisper, holding his gaze as you yank down his zipper, the motion causing a gasp to leave his lips. The relief is minimal but, Yoongi is grateful that his swollen dick finally has the room fully stand at attention. 

You deserve his full attention.

“You’re beautiful…” Is all he manages, his ability to form coherent sentences slowly slipping away.

His hips are lifted at your instructions as you pull his jeans and boxers from his hips, leaving him completely exposed to you. Yoongi feels a little insecure, his got a bit of a tummy on him as he’s been skipping the gym and, eating nothing but takeout the past few months. He didn’t shave either and, he’s waiting for some sort of negative reaction from you but, instead he feels the sharp pull of arousal in his stomach as you start kissing up his thighs.

“I should punish you for the way you’ve treated yourself this past week…” You admonish before taking the tender flesh of his inner thigh between your teeth, sucking hard enough to make him squirm.

Yoongi’s breath catches as he winces from the pain, his thigh jumping away from the sensation, “I’m sorry…I’m really sorry.”

Your tongue laves over the battered flesh before you make your way to the other thigh, taking time to blow cool air over his engorged dick. He shivers whilst thinking of what he would give to be in your mouth right now but, he won’t beg. He won’t try and sway you in any direction; he wants your full control.

“I told you last weekend not to talk shit to yourself didn’t I? So you can imagine my surprise when I come in here tonight and, you’re doing just that…you don’t want to disobey me do you?” You coo, pouting your lips before sucking his skin back between your teeth, creating an identical mark on his right thigh.

“Ah-“ He whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling rather tipsy at the sensation of pain, “No…of course not. I want to listen…”

A dark chuckle leaves your lips as you start placing kisses up his thigh, a wicked sense of delight coursing when his dick twitches towards your mouth, “Oh he wants to listen now does he?  Is it because my lips are so close to your dick?”

Yoongi grips the arm rests, his fingers slipping off due to the sweat created by his palms. Despite the cool temperature of the room, he feels like he’s on fire, he doesn’t think his ever been this turned on in his life.

“No, that’s not the only reason…” His hips jerk along with his stomach trembling when he feels your nails tickle their way over his hips, “I want to be good for you.”

As your nails conclude their teasing over his lower stomach, you let them rest against his hip bones as you ask your next question, “Mm, then you’ll sit there like a good boy while I have my way with you then won’t you?”

Before he can answer your question, a ragged whimper leaves his throat when you scratch your nails harshly across his soft pale skin, leaving aggravated lines of red as you do.

“Oh my fucking god…” He mumbles, eyes watering when his dick does the impossible and swells further, “I’d sit here like a good boy no matter what you wanted to do to me…”

He confesses, his faded chestnut hair sticking to his forehead, his eyes completely blown out with lust.

You prepare your nails to scratch him again and tickle them up the sides of his body, taking a moment to brush your fingertips over his pert nipples. Yoongi’s body is really sensitive but, his chest in particular always garnishes a special reaction from him. Your nails settle right where his heart is and, you can actually feel it pounding against his chest, “I want you to touch yourself for me…can you do that?”

Yoongi lets out a shaky breath and, once again you interrupt his answer by dragging your nails across his chest, digging in harder this time.

He actually feels his dick leaking at the sensation whilst his body arches off the desk chair, craving more of your touch.

“I have to go slow…I’m so hard right now, I don’t know how I’m gonna last….” He warns, his eyes shifting in uncertainty and, you take the time to admire how utterly innocent he looks.

Yoongi may be intimidating to those who don’t know him but, to you, with you, he is the softest man you’ve ever known.

But now isn’t the time for tenderness, you know what he needs.

He needs to be ruined.

So you’ll do just that…

Your hand comes out to wrap around his neck which elicits another gasp from his pink lips, his body going limp at your touch. You squeeze gently, just enough to slow the air circulation and lean in so your lips can brush against his.

“You’ll last because I tell you to last, because this dick belongs to me doesn’t it?”

Yoongi’s face is weak with pleasure as he nods eagerly, a small whimper leaving his lips, “Uh huh…”

A smirk forms on your lips as you squeeze his throat a little tighter, his dick jumping in response, “Say it…”

“My…my dick is yours jagi…” He gasps when you use your free hand to brush gently over his aching nipples, the sensation a huge contrast from what you’re doing to his throat.

“Your cum is mine…” You egg him on, dragging the pad of your thumb gently over either of his nipples.

“Ugh fuck…” He curses, his eyes locking onto yours and lull in and out of focus, “My cum is yours…everything is yours…”

Licking your lips, you loosen your grip slightly, giggling wickedly as he tries to reach for your lips, “You want me to hurt you while you jack off baby?”

Yoongi swears you must be sent from heaven, or maybe hell, either way, he’s dancing on the edges of euphoria at the moment. It’s like you know exactly what he’s thinking, he’s never known anyone who can anticipate his desires so well.

“Mhm…” He hums, the sound edging very close to a coo.

There is something that crosses your mind, something you hadn’t thought of before this began: was Yoongi capable of going into subspace? Because the glossy eyed expression, the yearning look, the pliant posture and slack jaw, everything about him looks like he’s heading in that direction.

“Yeah? You want me to hurt you really good?”

His mouth falls open as soon as you slide your cupped hand up his throat, your thumb brushing tenderly against his lips, “Yeah…please hurt me…”

Oh fuck, he’s right there…

“Suck…” You command gently, staring into his eyes, which have started to glaze over at your touch. He takes your thumb in his mouth, sucking eagerly, holding your eyes for approval, laving his tongue against the tip of it. “show me how you touch yourself baby…”

He nods, still sucking on your thumb before removing his sweaty hand down to his aching length. Yoongi’s eyes squeeze shut as he slowly curves a fist around himself, and, his leg twitches when he starts stroking his dick.

The relief is instant and, you feel the vibrations of his moans against your thumb. As he works himself up, you move away from him to kneel back between his knees.

His breathing is heavier, his toes are fidgeting against the floor but, his eyes refuse to leave yours, even as they threaten to close from pleasure.

You slowly tease your nails down his chest, over his ribs and hips, dangerously close to his dick, over his now bruised inner thighs and, all the way down to his ankles.

He brushes his thumb over his tip, a small whimper leaving his lips as his eyes squeeze close at the sensation. He’s already close, you’ve been winding him up for the past 45 minutes but, he holds on desperately, not wanting this to end.

“What do you think about when you touch yourself Yoongi?”

He takes another shaky breath and, does his best to swallow properly, despite his mouth being completely dry, “Lately, all I think about is you…I don’t even watch porn that often…”

Before you ask another question, you dig your nails into his calves and slowly begin dragging them up his legs. His whole body jerks in response, his hand faltering over his tip, he has to pull away for a moment, he almost came right there.

“ohmygod….” He keens, mostly to his self, his wide eyes looking away for a moment while he desperately tries to get a hold of himself.

“Oh but, you do watch porn? You’re cumming for other women then?” You tease and, Yoongi would panic that you’re actually upset but, the playful smirk on your face tells him that you’re just giving him a hard time.

“I don’t watch women…” He breathes, a ghost of smirk now playing on his own lips, “I watch men mostly, women in porn are annoying…they’re all annoying honestly…”

This makes you giggle but, you feel yourself growing wetter at the thought of Yoongi, getting off to men.

“So you think of me sometimes?” You’re still teasing him and, he knows you’re fishing but, he’s so into you he doesn’t care; he’d write a fucking thesis on you if he had the time.

He shakes his head, stifling a moan as you drag your nails over his hips when his hand reaches the tip of his dick; he really doesn’t know how he’s going to last.

“No…you don’t get it…” His breath is fucked and, his dick is so hard he wants to cry, it takes everything in him not to beg, “I think about you all the time…I’ve been thinking about you, ever since I came to your house that first time…”

Lust swirls deep in your panties; you don’t know how much longer you’re going to be able to do this either, his dick looks so good, hard, swollen and aching to be fucked. But you haven’t finished ruining him yet, you want him completely desperate before you give in.

“When I pulled your hair the first time?” You smirk, your hands travelling up his body once again as he nods, licking over his lips.

“Ye…yeah…that’s why I left so quickly, you made me hard…” He gasps again as your hand makes it back up to his neck, “…I…are you gonna choke me again?” His eyes look wary, almost frightened, the motions on his dick slowing again, “I don’t….jagi, I don’t know what to do…I don’t want to disappoint you but, if you…if you choke me again, I don’t…”

You smirk, tightening your hand around his neck before he can finish his sentence, “You’re gonna what baby?

“Oh fuck-“ He squeaks, his eyes starting to water when he squeezes over his tip, trying to halt his release, “Jagiya…I can’t…I can’t hold it, you have to stop…”

“Hold it, or I’ll tie you to this chair and leave you like this…” You hiss into his mouth, and his brow furrows in desperation but, his balls tighten further at your threat. The hand around his neck doesn’t cease its constriction and, his hand actually begins to move faster on his length.

His starting to learn…

“Good boy…don’t stop…” You kiss at his lips but, not long enough for him to respond to you, his whole body on fire and shivering at the same time.

Yoongi nods in determination, a shaky breath leaving his nose as he follows orders. He tenses however as you stand up, your left hand coming up to comb through his hair, which is matted against his forehead with sweat.

“Please…” He whimpers but, its not for permission to cum, you know exactly what it’s for.

Curling your fingers around the roots of his hair you tug hard enough to push his head back against the desk chair and, before he can even react, you use your other hand to tighten around his throat.

That’s it, that’s what breaks him.

Tears collect at the corner of his eyes as they widen like saucers, his mouth falling back open as he tries to cry out but, he’s too hoarse to do so.

“Y/N please…baby…baby please, pleasefuckme, pleasefuckme, I can’t…I need you...“ He’s completely lost it, he’s rambling, his eyes aren’t even in focus.

He isn’t even really looking at you but, you know you’ve got him, he’s made it there.

In less than ten seconds, he’s out of the desk chair and onto the pull out couch. He trembles beneath you; his hands reach up as if the lack of contact is painful.

Leaning down to him, you press a tender kiss to his lips to which he responds like a starving man.

“Please jagi…please I need you so bad, I’m sorry I need you, I need you…I really fucking need you…” He sounds like his about to cry and you nod, your tenderness returning just as quickly as it left, your panties pushed haphazardly off of your hips

“Hey…hey...I’m coming angel, I’m coming, just breath for me ok? I’m going to make it better…” You coo, pressing him gently into the squeaky mattress of the pull out couch, the cool sheets welcome against his hot skin.

He nods, not fully able to focus as he wraps his hands around your hips. You press another kiss to his lips before your final command is given, “As soon as I sink down onto you, I want you to cum ok? Can you do that for me?”

Yoongi’s bleary gaze finally locks onto your eyes, his body weakened with desire, “I’ll do anything for you…”

You can’t even recognize his voice, it’s so small, so weak and, so in…

You can’t say it.

Not yet.

But you can feel it, its bubbling right underneath the surface.

As soon as you sink down on him, you give him a few good strokes of your drenched heat before his whole body arches off the bed. Yoongi’s face is buried into your neck, his dull nails dig into your hips as he lets out a cry that shatters you.

You can feel how much he’s cumming as shot after shot of his release paints the inside of you. He’s cumming so hard that he starts crying, his silent whimpering enough to send you over the edge with him.

“don’t stop…don’t stop…” He cries into your neck, holding you so tight to him that it restricts your movements.

All you can do is nod as white hot pleasure takes over your senses, your orgasm just as intense given the events of the last hour.

Yoongi completely loses himself, he cums again, his hips glued to yours as he cries for you. Part of him would feel embarrassed but, he’s too fucked out to care. He’s too in…

Not yet.

He can’t say it, but it’s in his throat.

Its in his heart.

God, he’s never felt so good in his life, he never knew it could be this good.

“Y/N…” He croaks when your hips start settling down. His face doesn’t leave your neck but, he starts sucking gently on it, trying to ground himself.

He feels like he’s floating.

“Baby…” Yoongi practically coos, hands glued to your skin, still sniffling as his tears slowly come to a halt.

The smile that graces your face is brilliant and full of adoration. You slowly pull off of him, “I’m right here angel, I got you…”

You want to get him in a more comfortable position so you can hold him but when you try to pull away to do so, he panics, his glossy eyes widening in fear.

“No…no…” He tries to protest but, you kiss his forehead to reassure him

“Shh…I’m not going anywhere, I just want to hold you…come here for me…” You murmur, kissing his forehead again.

He’s suspicious, not thinking clearly but, he trusts you, not moving more than an inch away from your body as you shift the two of you to sit against the back of the couch. Yoongi scrambles to get closer to you, making himself smaller as he lays his upper half into your chest, tucking his face back into your neck.

“I got you baby boy, I got you…” You whisper, hoping the soft blue light in the studio will soothe him further along with gentle kisses pressed to his skin, “You did so good for me angel…”

Silent tears fall down his cheeks as he tucks further into you, “I did good?”

He checks again, feeling so vulnerable and, yet so safe at the same time.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead, your nails gently combing his hair back, “You did amazing. You were so good for me.”

His small mouth curves in a dreamy smile, still trembling but, feeling slightly more grounded, “You keep calling me angel….you’re the angel…my angel.”

“You can’t steal my nickname…” You giggle, causing his small smile to turn into a gummier smile as he nuzzles your neck.

“So pretty…” Is all he can think of to say but, you know he’s talking about your laugh.

God, you feel like crying right now though, you could have never guessed that you could feel this strongly about another person.

When a comfortable silence falls over you, you take a moment to notice how banged up he really is. His body is decorated with pinks and purples, scratches, bites, a hicky or two; you really did a number on him and, you want to take care of his skin before it gets too uncomfortable.

“Yoongi? Baby, I need to put something on your scratches, I have cooling gel in my bag-“ You begin to say but, his eyes quickly widen again and, the same panicked look returns.

“Don’t…don’t go-“ He urges, holding you tighter.

You know it’s a symptom of him being in subspace, he doesn’t actually think your leaving but, a lack of contact with you makes him nervous.

“I’ll come right back, my bag is on the floor…” You assure him gently, pressing a kiss between his eyes.

His eyes flutter shut at your kiss and, his hands tighten on you one last time before, he kind of gets a grip on himself.

He knows he’s being a little unreasonable but, he’s never felt like this before, he feels intoxicated and so incredibly needy.

“Ok…” He reluctantly agrees

Another kiss is placed to his forehead before you move quickly to retrieve the gel from your purse. As soon as you sit back down with him, he immediately wraps himself around you, hiding away in your neck as you start to apply the gel to his skin. His breathing is beginning to even out as he melts into you, letting you take care of him.

Like you always do…

“How do you feel?” You whisper into his hair as you smooth the substance over his neck, which has reddened slightly.

“I feel high…” He muses, sounding a little bit more like himself.

His response causes you to giggle, “I’m that good huh?”

Yoongi smirks, kissing your neck slowly, “You invented sex…”

Another giggle bubbles over your lips, as you pull the sheet over Yoongi’s body, “Do you feel better then?”

“Mhm…” He hums into your neck, kissing up the length of it before finding your lips. A soft kiss is placed there before he speaks again, “I wish I could articulate better but, you fucked me stupid jagi…”

Smiling into the kiss, you comb a hand through his hair, scratching gently at the scalp, “Don’t worry about it, take your time, I’m right here if you need me…”

The two of you stay like this for quite some time, holding each other, as you slowly settle back down. Yoongi stays quiet for the most part, doing his best to center his thinking which proves to be quite easy as the only thing he can really think about is you.

A half an hour passes before he finally speaks up, feeling the need to explain something to you.

“I used to live here…” He murmurs, face still tucked into your chest

Your brow furrows at his statement, “Here? At the studio?”

He shakes his head, “It wasn’t always a studio, ten years ago it was a halfway house for troubled youth…”

The beating of your heart stalls but, as you open your mouth to respond, Yoongi continues, his voice stabilizing finally, “My parents are not supportive of what I do. When I was a teenager, we used to fight all the time about it. They tried to force me to stop but, I never listened. I snuck out to do music all the time and, started failing out of school. One night, my father came in and freaked out on me, he destroyed my lyric pages and, threw everything away. The next day, I came home from school and, they had kicked me out. My older brother tried to stop them but, they wouldn’t listen...”

Your chest feels tight as you try your hardest not to let your emotions overflow; you never knew how much Yoongi has endured.

“Sejin, the guy at the front desk, he’s a friend of my older brother,” He rasps, placing another kiss to your skin as a means to soothe himself, “he took me in with nothing but my old laptop and, the clothes on my back. My parents wouldn’t let me take anything. I finished school in the city and, ended up landing a scholarship at our university, that’s where I met Hobi and, reconnected with Namjoon. Once he found out what happened to me, he insisted I move in with him while I got my degree. The rest you already know…”

You hold him tighter, kissing his forehead for the 100th time, “I’m so sorry Yoongi, I didn’t know you went through all of that. You’re so strong for pushing towards your dreams despite everything being so hard for you…”

He smiles gently and the wise look has settled back into his eyes as he looks up at you, “You see why I get a little nervous sometimes now…I’m so worried that my parents are going to be right.”

Nodding, you thumb over his cheek, “I do but, please know that you’ve already proved your parents wrong. After everything you’ve endured, you still keep pushing and, as long as you keep dreaming, you’ll never fail…”

A sudden kiss is pressed to your lips then, which Yoongi turns slow and sweet.

Just like him…

“On my worst days, I tell myself that all of this will be worth it someday…” He whispers against your lips, continuing to kiss at them

“It will be, everything will pay off...”

“It’s already started to…ever since my classroom switched…” He smiles, brushing a piece of hair from your face.

Intense emotion blooms fully in your heart when he responds and, you have to shake your head to keep yourself from crying, “Does that mean you’ll be my date tomorrow then?”

He chuckles, his eyes brightening up significantly as he leans into your lips,

“Tomorrow and, any other time you’ll have me.”

if you let me, here’s what i’ll do: i’ll take care of you

[bokunowritingacademia]

Original Character Corner: Lilith, Samael + Dad

@humanransome-note: Okay so I actually made a little OC family, and I’m not all that active in BNHA at the moment but I still love them. Five whole pages

-

First there’s the dad. Dishonorably discharged and court martialed, former US Army officer. He’s 36, and was SUPER OP when he was younger. His quirk was basically alchemy from FMA mixed with the fluidity of bending from ATLA. Contact with whatever he was moving was how it worked, but he figured out how to transfer his quirk through /atoms in the air/ so he was just hoping around bending the physical world to his will. (Like I said, super op.)

He can’t do much of that anymore though, because after the army used him, and a few others, to test out a long term low dose quirk enhancement drug, that he was told were vitamins, he accidentally OD on them. 

He wasn’t taking them everyday, and he thought “whatever their vitamins” he never thought it was weird that they’d get their pills counted out every month. But, ya know, hindsight. 

So when he realized inspection was coming around and he had too many pills, he just popped them all, expecting an upset stomach at worst. 

He nearly leveled the equivalent of about 10 city blocks, he was giggly, a bit high on power, and suffering from delirium caused by heat sickness. One side effect of overusing his quirk was his body overheating because (something something, physics, something something transfer of energy produces heat)

It took getting smacked by a live power line to put him down. He’s got a chunk of flesh missing from his left shoulder, and some gnarly Lindinburg figures projecting out from it. His left hand is considerably weaker and he’s blind in his left eye. 

He came to, in a public hospital. Some paperwork issue or something prevented him from being transferred back to base. 

(He doesn’t know this, but one of docs’ quirks was being able to tell the chemical composition of anything he tasted, a bit of a biohazard, but useful in a pinch. He threw up after getting just a small lick of blood, so they ran some tests, and found an unidentified chemical cocktail. They intentionally stalled to get the results and to see if he knew what he was taking)

After finding out that he was being used as a guinea pig for something that messed with his quirk (he tries not to see a person’s quirk as a judgement of their value, but a huge portion of his self esteem rested on his own quirk) he threw a fit, demanded to see his CO and promptly punched said commanding officer as hard as he could in the nads.

On paper, he was court martialed for assaulting a commanding officer, but in truth it was an excuse to discredit him so anything he said would be met with skepticism. 

That didn’t entirely work though, the amount of damage done to himself and the areas around him after having a squeaky clean record made a bunch of people think something was up. 

They were right. 

So that left him with two options:

keep fighting tooth and nail to blow the whistle on this thing, ruin his life, publicly and financially, and probably not have anything happen. Because something this dangerous and unethical had to be approved from pretty high up the food chain. 

Sign an indefinite NDA, get secretly subsidized by the US government and live out the rest of his life wherever he can find himself in relative peace. -also work as an on call black coat operative, his quirk may be jacked but he can still get some damage in from close range, and he’s pretty handy with a handgun-

He spends the first few months or so, just losing himself in drugs and alcohol. They had left him alone with his morphine drip, he got addicted and switched to opioids but quit when he found out he was pregnant. (Did I mention? My mans is trans!)

He didn’t want kids, but he couldn’t get a procedure in his current state, (both the actual state and coming down from a probably days long bender) and by the time he’d cleaned up he was ready to pop. 

So he had the kids. Yep, twins. A girl and a blob. Literally, the one he’d start calling his son when the little goo ball got a concept of gender was born with his quirk. Shapeshifting, down to the cellular level (with enough practice) unfortunately little dude had to know what he wanted to change it and having no experience besides swimming in embryonic fluid, and wiggle to irritate sister he was just kinda there. 

That was fun, 13 hours of labor, followed by the panic of a room full of doctors freaking out because they realized that thing was not the afterbirth but in fact another child. 

The doctors freaking out made him realize he’d do anything for those kids, so that’s when he decided to keep them.

The first few months were a lot. He spent more time in the hospital than at home, they had to put the kid in what was basically a sensory deprivation tank that was set up to be a pseudo womb. 

He couldn’t name them yet. The little girl got a name, Lilith, but he was scared that if he’d name them, something would happen, and they’d be filling out a death certificate immediately after the birth. He knew it wasn’t rational, but it made him feel better. 

Speaking of Lilith, either she was born with her quirk as well, or it came in a few months after being born. 

He was curled up with her, against the tank, when suddenly alarms started going off. 

He looked inside and saw her, and for a fleeting, terrifying, exhausting moment he thought he had a teleporting infant on his hands. But she was still in his arms. 

Puppeteer is what he called her quirk after things settled and some more testing could be done. Controlling people via contact through skin, (or conductive material, apparently)

And since all she knew how to do was be herself, she’d inadvertently made her brother a clone. 

It took a lot of talking with specialists and pediatric Quirk scientists to approve, under intense supervision, that Lilith use her quirk on her brother and hopefully teach him to inadvertently stay human shaped and functional.  

Almost their first birthday to the day was the first time that he stayed human shaped, on his own, for a whole day!

Baby blob’s first birthday present was a name, Samael (Sam or Sammy for short), and going home for the first time.

(are these OC’s named after biblical figures, both of which said fuck this, gave god the finger, and did their own shit? Yes, I’ve got a personal philosophy about names and that showed up here)

The first roughly three years, he’d been on call for some super shady shit before he realized that a lot of the places he was called to were pretty far from East Asia.

So with minimal planning, a favor, and a phone call to a friend they made working black coat, they had passports, plane tickets, and a decent apartment in the Mufastsu prefecture of Japan.

Elementary school was okay, Lilith (no you don’t get to call her Lily, you don’t have the friend privileges) and Sam (just Sam, maybe Sammy if he likes you) had the novelty of being from America to outweigh any bullying that may have been thrown at them because of their Quirks.

That would come later.

Middle school was bad, kids saw the two of them as scapegoats because of their “villainous Quirks” 

“It wasn’t me! Sam did it while looking like me!”

“Lilith made me do it!”

Samael turned inward and started getting into tech, robotics, and support equipment, theoretically, you need permits for that.

Lilith got violent, only in instances of defense, but still violent. The two of them went to a different middle school for every year of it. Their second to last year they actually went to the same school as Midoriya and Bakugo.

Sam had a bit of a crush on Midoriya, and Lilith was ready to throw down with Bakugo the second she got the opportunity, this isn’t some tsundere thing, she just wants to see him eat dirt. 

Their last year of middle school was pretty okay, considering the first two, and Lilith redirected her anger into helping Sam with his tech. Herself finding an interest in it as well.

They both applied for UA’s support course, (“You just wanna go cause Midoriya wanted to.” “I do not-”)

Lilith got in by the skin of her teeth, her record of fighting put her on a six month probation and prevented her from participating in the sports festival that year. She was devastated when she learned she lost an opportunity to make Bakugo do the chicken dance.

[satoshi-mochida]

The Final Fantasy Portal Site has published the first in a three-volume series of Final Fantasy IX interviews in celebration of the game’s 20th anniversary. Final Fantasy IX first launched for PlayStation on July 7, 2000.

The first interview is with Final Fantasy IX event design and scenario writer Kazuhiko Aoki. Volumes two and three will feature artist Toshiyuki Itahana and director Hiroyuki Ito.

Get the full interview with Aoki below.

―Final Fantasy IX is sometimes introduced with the phrase “returning to roots.” Where did Final Fantasy IX sit in the minds of the development team?

Aoki: “The slogans ‘returning to roots’ and ‘return of the crystal’ were there from the start. That’s why the setting of the game also has a medieval fantasy theme.”

―It is true that compared to the science fiction elements of FFVII and FFVIII, Final Fantasy IX made a sudden return to classic fantasy. There were even references to past FF titles, like character and vehicle names. Were those concepts also planned to be included from the beginning of development under the theme of “returning to roots”?

Aoki: “There were some things that were planned from the beginning, and then there were other elements that came about from those in charge of each part of the game during the creation process.

“The newborn chocobo, named Bobby Corwen…smash those names together and you get Boco.

“The foundation is 10 percent, and the remaining 90 percent comes from individual creators putting their own ideas and heart into a project. I think that’s the creation process of not only FF, but all games from Square Enix.”

―Each main character of Final Fantasy IX carries their own background story into the battles they face. Do you have a favorite character? Please tell us your reasons as well, if you have any.

Aoki: “I did my best not to have any favorites, so as not to be biased toward any specific character.

“There were backstories we wanted to elaborate on more, but sadly had to give up on due to time and data constraints.

“At the time I wished I could have developed how Zidane is afflicted by the difference in social status between him and Garnet a little more. Illustrating the breakdown of relations with the nobles in Treno due to their disapproval of Zidane and Garnet’s relationship, Zidane butting up against the social confines he faces and the incredible power Garnet holds as royalty, and how Zidane gets back up on his feet despite all of that—I felt that would have done a lot to help further portray him as a character.”

―The NPCs are also very well developed. What about them?

Aoki: “I don’t have any biases when it comes to NPC characters either. There actually wasn’t any differentiation in my mind between main characters and sub characters. Once the game’s story started to come to life on screen, my drive to develop each character even further – the steadfast reliability of Marcus or Garnet’s internal struggles, for example—only got stronger.”

―The Tantalus members Genero, Zenero, Benero and all their siblings are an unusual bunch. How did they come to be?

Aoki: “There wasn’t a trace of them until right before the game went gold. Not only limited to Final Fantasy IX, each FF series title has a period of about three to four months of quality improvements and brushing up after all elements that will be included in a game are implemented. How can we make it more interesting, what would make it easier to understand, what new discoveries can we find to add to the experience…as a creator you approach the process with a feeling similar to recreating something entirely. Those siblings came about suddenly right in the middle of that final tweaking for Final Fantasy IX.”

―The characters in Final Fantasy IX are built shorter than in previous FF games. Was there a reason for that?

Aoki: “I don’t know the reason for making the characters shorter in stature, but I did often hear that the cutscene team had a hard time making use of the know-how they gained working on Final Fantasy VIII. It was apparently a lot of trial and error.

“The characters in Final Fantasy IX excel at showing a certain sweetness or silliness, but even when they take on a totally different serious tone their expressions are so genuine. I feel that Final Fantasy IX had quite a good balance going in that sense.”

―Final Fantasy IX is known for its many popular and memorable lines. Whose idea was it to put together the loading screen of CG screenshots overlaid with words from the game and art?

Aoki: “The cutscene leader and event staff made that by picking out lines from the game. It was also the manifestation of a strong desire to show what kind of characters these were.”

―There were also many monsters with unique gimmicks, such as Ragtime Mouse’s quiz-style battle. Do you have a favorite monster or gimmick used by one?

Aoki: “I’m not sure if you could call it a unique monster, but my favorite are the black mages who appear in Cleyra. Your party characters don’t do a victory pose even if you win against them. That came from the battle system team’s consideration of the scene those battles take place in. You grow used to the characters celebrating when they win a battle, so I was really surprised the first time I saw that.

“I don’t know if this is still true, but development happened with next to no meetings between the event and battle design teams. Although that’s not to say that those teams didn’t get along.”

―Final Fantasy IX has a lot of mini games, many of which are quite difficult. Are there any you find particularly memorable?

Aoki: “Chocobo Hot and Cold. It came from the director wanting some contents that would allow traveling all over the game world. The concept came together in less than 30 minutes, but the actual creators who worked on the mini-game put a lot of time into it. Every last detail was done with such care.”

―Final Fantasy IX’s soundtrack was handled by Mr. Nobuo Uematsu. We feel that music is another important factor in expressing characters or story. If there are any songs from Final Fantasy IX that really stand out in your memory, please tell us about them.

Aoki: “That would be the song that Mr. Uematsu played for me the first time he worked at the Hawaii office.

“It was in response to me asking if he had any recommended songs from the new game—I got an idea for part of the story the second it came on. That song would eventually be titled ‘You’re Not Alone.’

“I asked, ‘Are there going to be any more changes to it?’ and he responded, ‘Yes, sorry… I’d like to tweak it a little more.’ It wasn’t finalized until the last minute, so I’m sure he really struggled with the composition of that piece.”

―Was there anything during development that was especially challenging or that sticks out in your mind?

Aoki: “The last few weeks were a battle with data restrictions. We had data increasing every day, having to think about where to divide the story so we’d end up with an amount that fit on each of the four discs. That fine-tuning took some real mental gymnastics.”

―If there’s anything else from your experiences during the development of Final Fantasy IX or messages for the many people who still love Final Fantasy IX you’d be willing to share, we would love to hear it.

Aoki: “There were about 300 people at the party celebrating Final Fantasy IX’s completion. It was developed by a team divided between Japan and Hawaii, so about one-third of the faces there I had never seen before…I was surprised all over again at how many people were involved in the project.

“I’m incredibly happy that Final Fantasy IX is loved by so many people; that’s been a huge motivator and confidence booster when facing jobs I’ve had since. I think that’s true not only for me, but also the many creators who worked on Final Fantasy IX as well. It would be nice to celebrate the game’s 20th anniversary with everyone who was at the post-launch party.

“Near the end of that party, there was a moment when the sound effect team went up on the venue’s stage. ‘In Final Fantasy X, there’s going to be this thing called Blitzball, and there will be a scene with the spectators cheering. We’d love if you would all be willing to help with that!’ they said. And I thought ‘…Oh, they’ve already started working on X.’ Just when I thought things were finished, they had already begun a new Final Fantasy. It really hit me being there, this is how the Final Fantasy series continues on forever.”

―Thank you for your time today!

Final Fantasy IX is available for PlayStation, PlayStation 3, PSP, and PS Vita via PSone Classics, PlayStation 4, Xbox One, Switch, PC via Steam, iOS, and Android.

[ask-de-writer]

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 16 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 16 of 83

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2020

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information   remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

///////////////////////

A few days later, Barad laid aside the three ephemerids that Kurti had used to calculate their position.  She sketched their position lightly on the chart.  Barad marked boldly over her mark.  Kurti had done the entire sighting and calculation on her own, with Barad watching closely, and taking his own observations separately.

“That was excellent, Kurti.  I need you to prepare for an entertainment this evening.”

She listened in dread as he explained what he wanted of her.

I must have failed at something. Why else would he do this to me? “Sir,” she asked in a small voice, “I had thought that I was pleasing you.  What did I do wrong?”

He looked at her in genuine puzzlement.  “You have pleased me, Kurti. Nobody has ever pleased me as much.  This is not a punishment.  It is a matter of fairness.  Morgu won a night with Chena fair and square. She died before he could claim his prize.

“I am only giving Morgu and Selked a fair chance at the prize again. You can also be of help to me in two other ways.”  At once, she perked up and listened closely.  “By doing this, I am tying two of my best men tighter to me.  Besides, you can listen to what they have to say for clues to their true feelings and anything else that they may mention that I can profit from.”

“I think that I see.  I was afraid that you were punishing me, I admit. So, this isn’t about anything that I’ve done, is it?”

“No, Kurti, it isn’t.  If I ever seek to punish you, I will be direct and you will know what you are being punished for.  That is my way.”

“So, by doing this, if one of them wins me, I will be serving you.”

“True, now fix up this cabin and get yourself ready for dinner.  You will dine at the officer’s table with me tonight.”

Surprise must have shown on her face because he laughed out loud.  “You should see yourself!  I kept the other cabin girls locked up because it was necessary.  They would have talked without thinking and betrayed my secrets.  Even when there was nowhere to go, they kept trying to escape.  You are so different from them that you deserve better treatment.  Besides, there are a few officers who are getting too full of their place on this ship.  You will be the perfect foil for that as well.”

Now it was her turn to laugh.  “First Officer Timms is probably the only one that won’t be furious at you.  Shall I dress demure or risque?”

“I hadn’t thought of that!”  Barad had the delighted grin of a small boy getting away with a goodie that was not his.  “Let’s not push them too far at once.  Dress just a little on the risque side of good taste.  I leave it to you.”

Dinner aboard the Grandalor was rarely a cause for interest or any but the most vicious of gossip.  Tonight, some had noticed that an extra place had been set at the officer’s table.

“What’s that about?  Any idea?”

“Not even.  I asked the mess-boys about it and they don’t have any clue. Just say it’s Capt’n’s orders.”

“Gonna set up some new officer maybe?”

“Here he comes!  Maybe now we’ll know …”

Captain Barad strode imperiously into the dingily lit mess.  Nobody had seated themselves yet, not being so foolish.

The Captain’s imposingly solid bulk was dressed as though for a formal occasion.  He was wearing snug dark trousers tucked into flared topped ankle boots of dark dyed, pebble-scaled Wing Ray.  A white sash-belt set off and complemented a loose shirt of brown satin with moving black highlights.  He stepped aside from the entryway and Kurti stepped into the room beside him, casually taking his arm.

She was dressed in a snugly fitting blouse of the same satin as Barad’s shirt, also throwing dark highlights.  A narrow belt of white, matching Barad’s, contrasted with her snug dark pants and dark slippers of polished, glittering, small scaled Lesser Dragon hide. They made a striking couple and both knew it.

With inner amusement but a straight face, Captain Barad thought, there’s two officers — — four men and — — five women of the crew that have made an obvious effort to dress up.  Setting an example does appear to be working.  Look at them all stare!  I think that they’re in shock, I really do!  He led Kurti to the chair next to his on the left, pulled it out and seated her as though she were a lady of consequence.  He seated himself, and the rest of the crew finally sat on their benches.

The officers looked on in barely concealed anger and confusion at the cabin-girl who was usurping a place at their privileged table.  Kurti smiled back at them like a Wolf Eel seeing lunch swimming by.  The rest of the crew looked on with varying degrees of amusement and puzzlement.  

Kurti was one of their own but they had written her off.  A cabin-girl was as good as dead.  Everyone knew that.  Barad’s cabin-girls had never lasted long, once chosen.  None were ever seen again before this.  Now there she was at the officer’s table, on the Captain’s left hand, a place of high favor.  What was going on?

Gossip began to rage like a fire in the rigging.  It was well known among the crew that Barad was always quick to criticize poor work, nearly as quick to say a good word for work done well, and to ignore almost entirely work that was merely adequate.  The principal guess was that Kurti was doing — whatever her work was — extremely well.

Dinner itself was unremarkable.  Just the usual fish-cakes, seaweed salad and water.  Kurti smiled inside as she watched it being served by a confused Jaret.  He was a galley worker that she knew.  They had never gotten along.  When the meal was done, she left on the Captain’s arm.

They stopped by the sick-bay to see if Tanlin was any better.  An empty bunk greeted them.  Doctor Corin apologetically proffered a tallow-slate.

“I am sorry, Sir.  She slipped away last night.  I have prepared her particulars and other papers for the Log.  When you have done, I will sign the papers and entries.”

The Captain wrinkled his brow in thought and looked about the small sick-bay, at the eight curtained bunks, arrayed in a row of four, two deep, the Doctor’s desk with it’s tall apothecary cabinet and the examination / operating table, centered in the only clear space in the room.

“Thank you, Doctor Corin,” said Barad quietly.  He took the tallow-slate.

Kurti looked sadly at the bunk where the cousin that she had never got the chance to meet had lingered four and a half Wohans.  She spoke softly, “We appreciate all that you have done, Doctor Corin.  We visited her early last night.  When did she die?”

“I found her gone at the second drum of the third night watch,” he answered her.  Turning to the Captain he added, “I put her body in the corpse locker until you should order her funeral or embalming for transport back to her fleet.”

“Who knows of her death?” asked Barad, suddenly intense, struck by a thought.

“Only we three.”

“For now, keep it that way.  Curtain her bunk and let none see that she is gone,” he ordered.

“Not even my assistant?” queried Doctor Corin.

“Especially not Mikka,” said Barad decisively.  “Give her other work that keeps her out of the sickbay for now.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Barad and Kurti initialed the sick-bay casual visit list and left.  They were sobered by Tanlin’s passing but they had never truly known her.  The two had other and more pressing things to think about.  By the time that they had got to Barad’s cabin door, they were feeling once again the effects of their prank at dinner.

Once in his cabin, she laughed and the Captain chimed in.

“Did you see their faces?” he hooted.

“Which ones?” she replied, delighted by the response that she’d seen. “The officers or the crew?  The ones that I used to know just about fell off their benches!  That was even better than the officers for me.  After you chose me, they wrote me off and wouldn’t even talk to me when they did have the chance.”

Barad looked at her, seeing her anew, yet again.  “You have changed, Kurti.  I was sure that going before the whole crew like that would at least embarrass you.  You show no sign of it.  May I ask why?”

She sobered and considered carefully before answering.  “Truly, Sir, it is survival.  Your cabin-girls have a short life usually, and an unpleasant one, if rumor be true at all.  

“From what I have seen, they did not even try to please you.  That was their job.  You have always had a short way with people who don’t do their jobs.  Most folks have some point where they will say something like, I would rather die than — whatever.  

“I’ve decided to live.  That means doing my job as well as possible.   With what has passed between us, I could not marry to get off the ship now.  You would never feel safe, and rightly so.  One slip of a tongue and we both would be convicted of violating the Marriage Laws. Command me if necessary or just tell me what is needed and give me the chance to do what you want as well as I can.  For however long I live, Sir, I am yours.”

Barad beamed.  “I was right.  You think deeply.  This goes far beyond the present task.  You have clearly told me why I can trust you, in terms of your own self interest.

“Now, I have that game of Three Dragons to play tonight.  You are the stakes.  I leave the whole set-up and refreshments to you.”  He pulled her to him and kissed her.  She responded with the appearance of enthusiasm.  Then he released her and playfully patted her behind. “Get to it.”

As she was about to leave, Barad impulsively handed her a six-inch dagger of Strong Skin fang, honed to a razor edge.  Startled, she was about to refuse it when he spoke.  “Kurti, There are only two people on this ship that I trust enough to allow them to be armed in my presence.  One is Selked, whom I’ve known from childhood, and the other is you.  Carry this to defend yourself, if any of the crew should get ideas.”

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS   NEXT==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Three Lobed Recordings

For 20 years, Three Lobed Recordings has explored the outer reaches of psychedelic music, presenting Bardo Pond’s heaviest, most improvisatory albums, documenting the American primitive revival via recordings of Jack Rose and Daniel Bachman, listening to emanations from space-age folk troubadours like Wooden Wand, Sunburned Hand of the Man and Matt Valentine and generally pursuing the beauty of experiment, wherever it occurs. To celebrate these past two fruitful decades, label founder Cory Rayborn lists ten of the albums that define Three Lobed (and, necessarily, leaves out others equally valid and interesting). We look forward to lots more in the decades to come.

Personal Choice Cuts from the TLR Catalog (in no particular order, 9 of which might be different if you were to ask me tomorrow).

Gunn-Truscinski Duo — Ocean Parkway (2012)

Ocean Parkway by Gunn-Truscinski Duo

Every time I listen to this album, especially the title track, I feel transported. Long ago my college roommate Jon Nall articulated a test for transcendent songs, for the ones that impact you no matter how many times you hear them. He summed those all-time tracks up as the ones where the hairs on your arms uncontrollably stand up every time you hear them. While every track on this album does it for me every time, throwing me into a sort of uncontrollable head nod and body sway, I am always fully taken away by the entirety of the title track and Steve's swirling guitar build over the entire eighth minute punctuated by the ecstatic tones he hits at 9:06. Yow. The feeling I get from this album is why the label exists.

Various Artists — Eight Trails, One Path (2012)

Eight Trails, One Path by Various Artists

Record Store Day is tough. I love the attention and cash it puts into the hands of independent retailers but hate how commodified it has become over time by the powers that be / majors who see it as an excuse to pump out a bunch of junk that will end up being shelf warmers and ankle weights on those same retailers they claims to be supporting. The first few years when most of the titles were truly from and by indies it was a lot of fun. That was the feeling that led to wanting to put out an RSD title in mid-2011 (an illness I’ve since overcome). Originally conceived as a joined pair of split 7"s, it morphed into a triple 7" and then to a full length album. I wanted to showcase different approaches to solo guitar work and set out to ask a lot of my favorites. I also wanted to put together a special package which was fleshed out with help by Casey Burns on graphics, Grayson Haver Currin on words and Jeff Mueller on printing. I’m still amazed at the interlocked nature of all of the contributions to this one, from Six Organs’ spiritual sibling to “Ascent” in the form of “Stranded on Io” (a track that is a wordless tale all within itself) to the circular beauty of David Daniell’s “Housewarming” and everything else on here. I really love this record.

Tom Carter — Long Time Underground (2015)

Long Time Underground by Tom Carter

Late in 2013 I was chatting with Tom about what shape a record should take. He wanted to go to Black Dirt and get a good, clean capture of what he had been working on with Jason Meagher. TLR is always onboard with a Black Dirt election. Fast forward several months and family TLR was visiting some friends in Vermont around the same time Tom was in the area. We met up and he handed off the masters for a double LP. While we knew that the mix of Tom’s playing, Tom’s writing and Jason’s engineering was going to be magical but we had no idea of the exact form or how insanely potent the album was going to be. Damn. Seriously, just listen to this stuff and absorb that these are all single takes, no overdubs. Haunting and celebratory all at once.

Daniel Bachman — The Morning Star (2018)

The Morning Star by Daniel Bachman

It is pretty fun to watch the arc and path that Daniel’s writing, recording and performing have taken over the last 15 years. From powerhouse steamroller to the intersection of musique concrète and acoustic drone, his current location could maybe have been seen in his early recordings but you likely would have lost most of those dice rolls. The Morning Star speaks to me in so many ways but the stunning bookends of “Invocation” and “New Moon” always hit like a ton of bricks. What is amazing is how Daniel can turn these album cuts into live performances. I saw “New Moon” several times while Daniel was in the process of touring this 2016 self-titled album, always transfixed by it live — the album version loses none of that potency. On the other hand, Daniel re-created “Invocation” at the 2018 Three Lobed / WXDU Annual Ritual of Summoning to stunning effect.

The Michael Flower Band — self-titled (2008)

The Michael Flower Band by The Michael Flower Band

An audio / aural bomb blast, a kosmik rearrangement of the space/time directly around the listener. This take no prisoners statement from Mick Flower (guitar) and John Moloney (drums) is a deep slice for catalog enthusiasts. Just tune into “Balinese Falsehood” and try to not get fully lost. Years ago I described this as “biker psych for the third eye rider” and I’ll stand by that statement fully today.

Wooden Wand and the World War IV — self-titled (2013)

Wooden Wand & the World War IV by Wooden Wand & the World War IV

Picking between Wooden Wand titles is hard for this particular enthusiast but if forced I think I have to push the needle towards the intense Crazy Horse vibes of this studio corker. Surrounded by the “Briarwood” band, perhaps the most telepathic folks with whom Toth has ever played, the results are electric and transfixing. Will I kick myself tomorrow for not picking Clipper Ship? TBD...

Meg Baird & Mary Lattimore — Ghost Forests (2018)

Ghost Forests by Meg Baird and Mary Lattimore

I don’t remember when it came to me, the fact that there wasn’t a deliberately ground-up collaboration between Meg and Mary in existence. I had to ask them if that was purposeful or a gap that was truly something that we should remedy, a question where I had my fingers crossed the entire time. They were both really into the concept, it just took the triangulation of busy satellites to make all of our desires into reality. The results are as sturdy, sheltering and invisible at the edges as the album's title, facts that we are all the better for each time we wrap ourselves in this particular fabric. An all-timer.

Jack Rose — The Black Dirt Sessions (2009)

The Black Dirt Sessions by Jack Rose

I had the good luck and fortune to get to know Jack back in the Pelt days and watch his transition from that ensemble into the singular player and performer that he was for the last eight years of his too short life. Watching a Jack set was always a tiny miracle. I remember him calling me one day, telling me that he had gone to record with Jason Meagher and he had a record that he would really love for me to put out if I was interested. Not only was I most most certainly interested, but I was amazingly humbled and flattered that this friend who I also considered a modern master had recorded something specifically for me without even discussing it with me first. That level of trust was the gift and magic of Jack. If he believed in you that belief gave you all of the power you needed to make anything reality, you were suddenly bulletproof. Every track here is a stunner but “Cross the North Fork” always pulls me in, dares me to turn my attention anywhere else. Rest in power, friend.

Chuck Johnson — Crows In The Basilica (2013)

Crows In The Basilica by Chuck Johnson

Every track on this perfectly constructed and sequenced album is flawlessly beautiful but “On A Slow Passing In Ghost Town” is one of the top 10 tracks in the entire TLR catalog in my estimation. Exactingly and properly composed, performed and recorded.

Bardo Pond — Peri (2009)

Peri by Bardo Pond

The love of Bardo Pond was the seed that initially drove me to create a record label. Their single-minded determination to seek audio truth was apparent to me ages ago and so very inspirational. I ate up everything — the releases, the live shows, the live recording — and I hung on every note. The band had a lot of really, really great tunes that they had been working on between 2001 and 2003, the period between their departing Matador for ATP Records. I could never shake the power of several of the tracks from this era that sort of got abandoned to the shifts of time. After several conversations with Michael Gibbons two albums were born from that period and from some other exceptionally potent tracks. Batholith was the first of these two albums and Peri, the second. Both are so very special to me, the fruit of knowing folks needed to hear these compositions. When writing here I have to pick Peri today as it closes with “Silver Pavilion,” an all-time Bardo Pond thesis statement of sorts.

[angry-slytherin]

Heaven Help Me(Ch 2)

Jo is reading scans from an email on her cell phone when she hears a voice behind her.

“Hey, Jo, wait up!” Jo whips around on her way to the coffee cart outside the hospital. She stops just short of the doorway. Amelia is walking briskly toward her.

“Okay so I know probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I’m dying to tell someone. Meredith is going on a date with Hayes. Don’t tell her I said this, she’ll kill me.”

Jo gives Amelia a look of confusion. “Uh, first of all I don’t know who ‘Hayes’ is and why are you telling me this?” Jo and Amelia had of course met through Link, and Jo likes her well enough, but she feels it’s weird that Amelia is sharing personal information about her sister’s dating life with her.

“Doctor Hayes! Pediatric co-chief of surgery! And I told you before, I needed someone to tell. You were on the way to the coffee cart and I don’t think you’ll blab to Meredith.”

Jo nods, “Right. You getting coffee?” Amelia frowns.

“No, I have surgery.” She says, and Jo just watches her walk off towards the elevator. Jo is just glad Amelia is self-aware of her crazy. That much is true.

Jo sees Rayn coming up the hall and quickly turns back toward the doors.

“Before seven is mine, Doctor Rayn. I told you this.”

“Doctor Wilson, I think you’ll want to come see this.” Rayn is tight-lipped.

“Fine; tell everyone I’ll be there in ten. I need sustenance or I’ll be crankier than normal. You don’t want that.”

Rayn agrees, still somber. “See you in ten. And I know we’re professionals, but I think it’s important you know that know my first name is Carleen.”

Jo studies the younger doctor carefully, realizing she reminds her of herself during her early residency years.

“Thank you, Rayn. I’ll be there in ten.”

Rayn goes to turn away, but Jo finds herself compelled to speak again.

“My first name is Jo.”

Rayn grins wide at Jo, before rushing back to the lab. Jo finally reaches the doors, stepping outside into one of Seattle’s rare clear mornings, and takes a deep breath. The fresh air helps to clear her mind.

“Good morning, Doctor Wilson.”

Jo jumps. Behind her is Alex Karev, scowling.

“Jesus, you scared me. Good morning to you too. What’s got you in a mood?”

“Got into a fight with my wife.” He practically tears his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans, and opens it.

“Oh, well. Don’t let it get to you too much. She loves you. And you don’t have to harp on it if it’s nothing that important.” Jo then remembers to take her wallet out of her own purse, fishing out a couple dollars.

“It was about— You know what, it doesn’t matter, you’re right. I’m just going to forget about it.”

“Right then,” Jo awkwardly moves on, “Did you read the article on ex-lap efficiency from Doctor Yat-Sen at UCLA? It was really interesting, the way he argued that you can minimize OR time by immediately doing a biopsy on the healthy tissue also.”

“I actually did. I dunno if it’s practical for me. It’s harder to decide on things like that with kids. They’re so compliacated. Like my wife.”

Jo openly laughs at that.

“Don’t hate on your wife. I thought you were forgetting about it?”

Alex groans, scowling again, “Right.”

“You’re right about the kids part though. Peds was super fun to me, but in the end I ending up in general, specialty-less.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Indecisiveness in the end. I never thought too far enough into it in the first place. Plus now, I have my research.”

Alex stands behind her on the coffee line, and Jo orders a lemon scone.

“What do you want, Karev?”

“I can pay for my own coffee.”

Jo turns to the clerk, “One black coffee please.” She smiles and hands the clerk the money.

“How could you possibly know how I like my coffee?” Alex says, accepting the cup.

“Please, you’re clearly not a sugar and milk person. You’re such a grouch.”

Alex keeps his scowl, but thanks Jo nonetheless.

***

“Good morning, all.” Jo greets the team as she enters the research lab. ‘The team’ being surgical resident Cross, oncology intern Rayn, and three biomedical engineers— John, Armani and Deborah.

“Doctor Wilson, we have great news. The mice are fine.” Deb is smiling, and the other engineers follow in suit.

“I don’t understand. That means our cells are flawed.” Cross furrows his eyebrows Jo sighs.

“Yes. It means we have lots more work to do. Actually, that’s the bio engineers’ job. Us doctors have to sit back now. Doctor Rayn, you’re of course welcome to help, as you’ve got the most extensive knowledge of cancer. Doctor Cross, thank you for all your help, but your services are no longer needed here.”

“It was wonderful to meet you Doctor Wilson. Hopefully we can call you back soon, once we’ve better understood this in our lab.” John sticks his hand out, and Jo shakes it.

“Thank you all. I look forward to it.” Jo nods, and she and Cross exit the lab.

“Doctor Cross, you should scrub in on as many surgeries as you can. I appreciate all of it, but your time spent here has set you back as a surgeon. Take some extra nights on-call for a while. Thank me later.”

Cross looks both solemn and grateful, and he simply walks away. Jo feels surprisingly upset at this; she knew her idea wasn’t the end all be all, but she had hoped it would’ve fleshed out more. All she had done was make mice ill, not help anyone.

She had gone and given up a great surgery fellowship, for one of her ideas to fail within only a little more than a week. Her favorite research already up in flames.

Then her pager goes off, and she is being briefed by a senior resident on a hernia patient who came into the ER last night. The woman whose scans she recieved this morning.

“Audrey Davis, 36. Came into the ER last night complaining of abdominal pain. After CT, it was concluded she has an epigastric hernia.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Jo nods to the resident.

“Doctor Wilson,” a medical student begins, “Am I correct to assume you’ll be performing a hernioplasty?”

“I will. Does anyone know why?”

“Yes. Mesh has proven to be exceedingly effective in long-term hernia repair.” A third-year resident answers.

“Doctor Wilson, will you be using an animal-based mesh or a composite synthetic one?” Another medical student.

“A bio human-based one. Why?”

“Because there’s a lesser chance of rejection.” A second-year.

“Alright, anyone who answered a question can join me in the OR today. Baker, scrub in. The rest of you can watch in the gallery. Find me later if you have further questions. Now excuse me.”

Jo makes her way into the patient’s room and the woman is surrounded by multiple people, ranging from toddlers to elderly. Jo counts thirteen.

“Good morning Ms. Davis, and family. I’m Doctor Wilson, and I’ll be your surgeon. I’ll be performing a laparoscopic repair for your hernia, and then hopefully in a day or two, you can go home. Do you have any questions?”

The elderly man speaks up, “Honey, are you the nurse? Because you need to speak up. I have hearing aids for god’s sake.”

“No, sir. I’m the doctor. Doctor Wilson, the surgeon who’ll be operating on Audrey.” Jo tries her best to muster a smile.

The patient rolls her eyes, “I’m so sorry Doctor. He’s especially irrational when he’s stressed. My mom was the first one in our family to have a surgery, and she died a year ago.”

Well that explained the whole gang showing up.

“No problem, Ms. Davis. I will see you in surgery.” The patient nods and Jo moves on to her post-ops. One med student trails her, with a concerned look on his face.

“How could you possibly not yell at that old man, it was crazy sexist what he said.” Jo faces the not-yet doctor, sighing.

“It’s the world we live in. As a female doctor, you learn to get used to it. You could probably ask your female peers” He frowns at Jo, shaking his head.

“Somebody should change that.” Jo is nearly crushed by his hope.

“Somebody should.”

She bumps into Izzie Stevens as she walks past the med student.

“Sorry, Wilson. I should’ve been looking where I was going. It’s been a long morning.”

Jo remembers Alex’s grumpiness this morning and guesses he probably slept on the couch.

“Don’t worry about it, I understand.”

“Are you married? Have you ever been married? It’s exhausting.” Izzie says it tiredly, not antagonistically.

“No, I mean I- yes. I have been married. But not anymore.”

Jo does not wish to share her own experience with marriage. She feels bad for Stevens and Karev, but their petty arguments hardly compare to her memories. She went to therapy for a long time after it ended.

“My husband — I think you know him — Alex, is just exhausting. He always thinks he’s making me happy, but half the time it’s just him pushing his wants onto me and calling them mine. Sorry, you probably don’t care.”

“It’s okay, I could use a break from my own thoughts.” Jo gives her a small smile, but the other doctor is right, she doesn’t care.

“Sorry, sorry again. Goodbye Doctor Wilson.” Izzie rushes off.

Jo finds several residents and med students waiting for her at Willy O’ Connor’s room.

***

After performing two appendectomies, Jo takes respite on a hallway gurney. She rubs her temples, leans her head back against the wall, and closes her eyes.

“Feeling okay? Fellowship life getting to you?” Link’s voice rings in her ears, her head pounding. She feels him sit next to her.

“I feel more tired than on a 24 hour shift as a resident. I research, and then I do surgery, and then I do more research, and then I do more surgery. It’s like everything I’ve ever wanted but it is so draining. I am so tired.” Jo opens her eyes and looks at her friend, fatigued.

“Ah I remember when I was a fellow, I actually slept through a M&M. The resident next to me who’d been there all night woke me up. It’s so much better than residency though. You’re basically an attending and still learning.” Link looks at Jo.

“Yeah,” Jo lets out a breath of air.

“So how is wedding planning going?”

Link smiles, “Well we set a date. July 18th. At the Old Mill Factory.”

“It’s gorgeous there! Oh I’m so happy for you both!” Jo squeals and suddenly she’s energized.

“Speaking of my wedding, how would you feel about being my best man?”

Jo smiles slowly, “Really? I mean I would of course be the best woman but minor details. Yes, of course Link, yes.”

Link grins at her. “Not that I’m doubtful, but I’m going to need you up there. Because me and Amelia will both be nervous wrecks.”

Jo bites her lip, “I bet. It’s gonna be great.”

***

Jo makes her way to the attending’s lounge on the third floor, but her desire for hot chocolate and a comfortable seat is prohibited by a screaming couple in the room already.

Jo decides she’s had a long enough day and braves the sparring lovers. It’s Alex and Izzie, of course. Jo shrinks, just wanting hot chocolate. That’s all she wants.

“-well that’s rich! You haven’t thought about what I want in a long time!”

“Oh so now you don’t want kids? We’ve always wanted kids, what changed?”

“Of course I want- that’s not what I’m saying, I’m saying I can’t give up more time for maternity leave. I have a lot going on right now with my patients and I need you to be willing to take time!”

“And I’ve told you I’m willing. But I’m not being a parent alone. That’s no— Iz.” Alex looks over at Jo and she widens her eyes, scooping up her mug.

She awkwardly smiles, “I’ll just be going now.”

God, she thinks, what a mess.

Alex follows Jo out of the lounge.

“Sorry about that.” Jo furrows her eyebrows, frowning.

“I thought the argument this morning wasn’t important.”

“It wasn’t.” Alex grunts. Jo doesn’t want to aggravate him more, but kids seems like a big topic. Kids are always a big topic.

“Kids are a big decision. I was a kid no one wanted, not even my own mother could stand to keep me for more than two days. She was under different circumstances, but no kid wants parents who can barely agree before they’re even a clump of cells.”

Alex fumes, “Who the hell says you get to comment on my marriage? What gives you the right? You’re not married, you’re not a parent. You have no idea.”

Jo rolls her eyes, “You’re right, Alex. But I’ve been married before, and I- you should think about what you’re getting into.” Alex waves her off.

“Screw you, Jo.”

Jo takes a deep breath, moving on to her surgery.