#surprise Travelers verse interlude! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kickingitwithkirk · 4 years

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Greetings From Austin: Part II

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Alpha!Jared Padalecki x Omega!OFC

Summary: Jensen and Jared are at odds over a monumental decision that changes their lives in a way they couldn’t have envisioned.

Word Count: 3985

Warnings: a/b/o, bisexuality, angst, cursing, self doubt, depression/anxiety, married life/disagreements, medical stuff, sexual dysfunction, infertility, surrogacy

*Jensen acting out of character

*additional warnings to be added in future parts.

A/N: series Inspired by this art.

A/N II: For this part I did some research & delved into a bit of reproductive/genetic testing-please don’t dink me on details, I altered it a bit to fit A/B/O verse.

A/N III: There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles or Padalecki families. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional A/B/O verse. Some dates/events altered to fit story.

Part I

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

*photos found online

One hour later

Jensen sets two sealed cups in the small niche shutting its door and grabs his jacket sliding it on, his inner Alpha purring with satisfaction watching his husband's fumbling fingers working at a button on his shirt, “Need any help babe?”

Jared’s all dilated pupils and glowing cheeks above his thick beard, “I’m good, I'll be out in a few.” Jensen leans in for one more soft, lingering kiss before leaving. Locking the door behind him Jared leans against it, closing his eyes, savoring the last vestiges of his oxytocin high.

He can’t stop recalling that mischievous glint in those luminous green eyes as Jensen slowly licked his plush lips before diving in to kiss him stupid, his long, sinful tongue doing things that’s probably illegal in twenty states, hands with ooh, so thick, talented fingers capable all sorts of magical things.

Shaking himself out of the memory he crossed over to the sink and caught his debauched reflection in the mirror. Shit, he can’t out looking like this.

Turning on the tap cups his hand to catch some of the running water splashing his face to cool off when his phone starts vibrating in his back pocket. Drying his hands and face he pulls it out checking the text. Glancing up he runs a hand over his thick beard, smoothing it down before leaving the room.

Completely preoccupied typing a reply he rounds the corner heading for the doctor's office slamming into a woman knocking her off her feet, the contents of the bag she’s carrying scatter loudly across the floor.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry!”

From her seated position she looks up...and up, his long, long legs clad in low riding jeans barely held up by a loosely buckled leather belt, his shirts rucked-up, a bit of his treasure trail and toned abs flanked by the sharp V of his hip peeking out.

“FuckI’mfuckingsorryFuckdidn’tfuckingsee....”

Jared, embarrassed, keeps apologizing, laced with fuck every other word, squats down gathering scattered items, dropping them back into the bag continuously babbling until she bursts out laughing. “And here I be thinking I said fuck to much,” a subtle lilt in her voice making it sound like she’s saying fook instead.

They move around each other picking up the last of her stuff. Jared reaches for a scarf when the central air catches a few loose strands of her hair, lightly dancing them across his cheek.

He inhales sharply as her piquant scent travels through his system eliciting a rumbling purr deep in his chest, “Fuck..” She breathes out gazing directly into his kaleidoscope eyes, watching mesmerized as they bleed into red with arousal as her eyes flash gold in response.

“I..I..fuck..I’ve gotta go!” She sputters, scrambling to her feet, grabs the bag hurrying away, leaving him holding the scarf.

Lifting the forgotten fabric to his face Jared deeply inhaled her scent, reaching down presses against his cock chubbing up the second time that day. He morosely stares in the direction she fled in once more, a low whine of loss escapes before he tucks the scarf into his back pocket and resumes heading towards the doctor’s office.

Dr. Rodgers, standing just inside in a doorway observing unnoticed, makes a mental note.

***

Jensen watches amused as Jared sits down with a slight wince, a not unpleasant reminder of their recent interlude, teases, “Did I make that much of a mess out of you Jay?”

Jared shrugs with a nonchalant “eh.” Jensen lowers his chin leaning close growling his displeasure at the flippant response, Jared internally shivers knowing he’s gonna pay for it when they get home, much to his delight.

Jensen abruptly stops growling, “You stink like Omega!”

Dr. Rodgers comes in carrying a binder saving Jared from responding, “We’ll get your test results in about two weeks unless we see something that needs further investigation.” He sets down the binder in front of them, opening it to the first page revealing a dossier and picture.

“Now, the next bit is selecting an egg donor. I’m sure you're wondering how we select the donors. I rely on a protein compatibility test, similar to the markers blood test used when matching Alphas and Omegas, narrowing down prospective candidates.

All of our donors are Betas and Omegas. Several of the Betas are willing to be the surrogate too. If you choose to go with an Omega donor we will have the extra step of selecting a Beta surrogate but that’s something to discuss later if needed.

We also take into account your personal preferences when it comes to physical traits, personality, etc. I’ll introduce you to the top three that are the best matches. If for some reason none of them work out, we’ll try the next most compatible candidates.”

Dr. Rodgers clicks his pen, “Let’s get started shall we.”

***

Flipping off the light switch Jensen walks out of the bath to find Jared already asleep. Crossing over to their bed he stopped at his side admiring him.

How had he gotten so lucky to have Jared as his? Over fifteen years since that life changing meeting he was more in love with his mate than ever, the ups and downs in their relationship that could have torn them apart made their marriage stronger.

Jensen took hold of the book Jared had been reading, gently pulling it out of his hand, slid in a bookmark and placed it on the nightstand turning off the lamp.

Easing into his side of the bed he leaned over pressing a soft kiss to Jared’s bare shoulder, who only wore bottoms since he always ran warm. Shifting, Jared buries his face into Jensen's neck, draping a long arm across his chest snuggling close, “Thank you.”

“For what babe?”

“Helping me today,” he could feel Jared’s breath warm against his skin, “I know you're against having more but please don’t decide not to, I want to have pups with you.”

Jensen mentality sighed, he’d be forty-three before they were born and didn’t want to be the old dad. Jared had argued that he'd never be, they knew lots of people were having their families later, look at Reedus, fifty when his daughter came and JDM, he was almost fifty-two when George was born.

“I’ll make you a deal, I’ll say yes if we find one donor we both agree on,” he felt Jared’s emotions shifting more positive, “but if you like one and me another, I’m not doing it.”

Jared pressed several soft kisses to the side of his neck, “Okay Jen,” he agrees, shifting to lay his head on his shoulder, “we’ll find the one, I can feel it.” he sleepily finishes.

Jensen rests his cheek against the top of Jared's head, not fallen asleep for ages. How was he going to handle Jared’s inevitable disappointment, knowing it will happen since they have always had vastly different tastes in females.

***

Five days later

7:00 A.M.

Jared was up to mile three of his daily workout on the treadmill in his office. He usually ran outside this early in the morning but a surprise thunderstorm altered his plans for the day when his phone rang. He dialed the machine down to walking speed to answer.

“Hello, Mr. Page, this is Sissy from Dr. Rodgers office, I’m sorry to be calling so early. He would like for you to come back in for a follow up about your semen testing.” Jared’s throat tightened, closing off his ability to respond.

He stepped off the machine and sat down on the large leather couch, “Sorry I..what time can I come in?”

“We have an opening at 8:45, will that work?”

“Yes ma’am, I can be there then.”

“Great, we’ll see you in a bit Mr. Page.”

Jared sat back not caring he was getting sweat all over the leather and started his breathing exercise to calm himself, telling his brain to knock it off, surely it wasn’t anything major with how calm Sissy was on the phone.

Ten minutes later he was still anxious but able to handle it. He glanced at his watch and knew he had to get his butt in gear to make the appointment.

Walking into the bedroom he found Jensen softly snoring so he moved as quietly as he could grabbing some clean clothes and headed for the shower. He left a note by the coffee pot saying he had an errand and be back ASAP.

He pulled into the clinics parking lot with five minutes to spare. Tucking his hair into his ever present beanie, Jared slipped on his mask and dashed through the downpour into the clinic.

After being temperature checked, Sissy walked him to the doctor's office. Knocking on the door she opened it and Jared saw the doctor on the phone gesturing for him to come in as he finished his call.

“Hello Mr. Page, thank you for coming in. I wanted to go over a discrepancy the lab found with your test, I'll try not to use too much doctor jargon.” He layed three pages on the table in front of him, a color printout of a sperm DNA strand broke down into segments and the others Jared recognized as chromosome mapping. “These are part of the Alphas sperm DNA sequencing. Normally, this one has a wide band in this segment,” he pointed to a circled area on the right page demonstrating a normal sequence. “This is your sperm's DNA. What I wanted to show you is a variant in the same section,” he circled a column on the left page, “which contains a narrow band instead,” he highlighted one piece of the chain.

“What does it mean?” Jared asked nervously.

“I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t know, I’ve never encountered this variant before. I looked at your previous testing from 2016 and it was also present on that test, not sure why it was overlooked. I’ve consulted with a few colleagues of mine to get their take,” he paused resting his arms on the desk watching Jared’s expression, “Mr. Page, I didn’t ask you to come in to upset you, I prefer to keep my clients in the loop if anything unusual does present with their testing. It’s possibly something that's genetically unique to you and affects nothing. I’d like to run a Tunel test, it’s a sperm chromatin structure analysis, it’ll give us more information to work with.”

Jared fidgeted, desperately wanting to chew on his fingers, “Umm…okay.”

“Good, it's not invasive at all, we just need some more sperm.” Dr. Rodgers says.

~~~

Jensen was stumbling around the kitchen working on his first cup of coffee when Jared walked in carrying a box from his favorite bakery.

“Those aren’t what I think they are?” Jensen asks as Jared sits the box down on the counter. He opens the lid inhaling the scent of decadent cinnamon roll goodness before pulling out one and taking a huge bite moaning pornographically, “Babe, whatever I did to warrant these remind me to do it again,” he says with his mouthful.

Jared chuckles as his mate continues making obscene noises before bending down taken a bit from the other side earning warning snarl.

“You are so not a morning person.” Jared chided sliding the box over to retrieve his own taking it setting down at the island bar pulling a chunk off.

“You wanna share what’s rattling around in that big head of yours?” Jensen inquires. Jared chews slowly before answering. “I got a call from the clinic, something showed up in my test.”

Jensen snapped fully alert, his roll forgotten, and sat down next to him, “Jared, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Jared fiddled with his roll, pulling it apart, “No, not that I’m aware of but they found something off and don’t know what it is. Dr. Rodgers said it’s probably nothing but wanted to run another test to see if he can figure out what it is what if something is wrong and turns out I was the reason Genevieve couldn’t get pregnant I don’t know if I can handle it the possibility of not being able to have pups I’ve wanted them for so long I can’t imagine our lives...”

“Jared,” Jensen sharpness interrupts Jared’s incessant rambling, making him go quiet, “I know you want to go to the worst possible outcome but let’s wait till all the tests are back. If it’s something, we’ll deal, we always do.”

***

August 3rd

“Jen, move your ass, were gonna be late!” Jared bellows from downstairs.

“I’m coming...dammit!” Jensen cursed as he tripped over the boxes left sitting by the bottom step. “You need to get the rest of this shit out of the way, about killed myself again!”

“I’ll stay up tonight moving the rest of this fucking shit if you’ll get a fucking move on!”

The sniping at each other had gotten worse since the house renovations were barely completed before heading back to Vancouver.

Jensen moved his music studio into the newly created space in the basement from the former guest quarters, now relocated to the spacious pool house. The empty upstairs rooms were converted into the eventual nursery/kids rooms with a Jack and Jill bathroom between them.

“You better start watching your goddamn language cause the last thing we need is for our kids to have a trash mouth like…don’t roll your eyes at me!” Jared threw his arms up in disgust before storming out to the garage getting in Jensen’s truck. They drove to the clinic in silence.

They were flying out tomorrow to quarantine for two weeks before resuming shooting on the eighteenth. Then the clinic called their tests were back and Jared didn’t want to wait till they got back for the results.

After their temperature check they were immediately escorted to the doctor’s office finding him already there. “Mr. Bonham, Mr. Page, pleasure to see you, please have a seat.” They sit next to each other not touching. “Is there something wrong gentleman?”

“Why do you ask?” Jensen barks, “Fuck man, don’t be rude!” Jared bit back earning a glare that makes most sane people back away from Jensen.

“Gentleman, no need to fight. It may surprise you but I actually see a lot of hostility between my clients. I’m sure the added stress of the quarantine while trying to start a family is putting your Alpha instincts more on edge, is it not?”

Jensen sighed, “I’m sorry sir, I was raised better.”

Jared gave an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry too sir, and you're right.”

“I’ve been doing this for a long time and understand the situation from your side, my wife and I had trouble conceiving. We ended up having two sets of twins within three years, now that’s stress.”

Jensen blinked, “And I thought mine were a handful.”

Dr. Rodgers laughed, “They are a blessing but honestly, it’s an absolute madhouse at times. So, let’s get back to you two. Mr. Bonham, everything looks good, you are in the top percentile when it comes to mobility and live sperm count for your age group. One of the advantages of being an Alpha, unlike us poor Betas who’s diminish with age.”

“Mr. Page, I also have your results and the Tunel tests which turned out to be something.. unique.”

Jared eyes widened as he paled, his breath hitching, feeling his stomachs spastic tightening making him about vomit. He knew it, he knew something was going to go wrong, his brain didn’t lie to him this time.

Jensen was out of his chair and utilizing his Alpha strength turned Jared’s towards him before kneeling between his legs reaching up to firmly grip the sides of his head forcing him to focus on him opens up his side of their bond he’d shut the other day when they were arguing to gauge how bad this one was.

“Hey Hey, concentrate on me, I need you to breathe with me,” he held Jared’s gaze for several minutes as their breathing cinqued up, feeling him relaxing.

“There you go big guy. It wasn’t that bad, focus on your breathing okay.” Jared nodded embarrassed as Dr. Rodgers sat a bottle of water in front of him, “Do you need me to get you anything else?”

“No, he’s fine, thank you,” Jensen answers, getting up retaking his chair as Jared took a long drink from the bottle, “he’s usually more aware of these attacks but since the damn lock-downs.” Jensen shook his head in disgust, “We're heading back to Vancouver tomorrow to finish our sh..job before his new one starts late October. I guess it’s really hitting us both that it's finally ending.”

“Mr. Ackles, you can say show,” Jared and Jensen stare at him in surprise, “my daughters are fans, I know more about the Winchester brothers than a man my age should.” Dr. Rodgers ruminates, “Mr. Page, are you ready for me to continue?” Jared nodded as Jensen wrapped both of his hands around his free one.

“After I received the results I spoke with a specialist in Alpha genetics. They looked at all your tests and came back with a conclusion I’ve never heard of before.” The doctor laid a printout on the desk, “This is a visual aid to help me in explaining.”

“Chemoattactants are what a female's egg releases to attract the sperm to it. You know how it works from there; sperm meets egg, sperm penetrates egg and viola, fertilization. Alphas sperm has evolved allowing them to inseminate all three sub-genders, whereas male Omegas sperm is sterile since they possess both sets of reproductive organs but only need to utilize one.”

The doctor sets all three of Jared’s tests and the normal example on his desk for them to see, “This chromatin structure you carry Mr. Page,” he points to the highlighted section, “has altered so that the eggs of Alphas and Betas are chemorepellent to your sperm, rejecting fertilization.”

Jared sat still-shocked, blankly staring at the results lying before him, vaguely feeling Jensen reaching across their bond again. “Does this mean he’s...infertile?” He can hear Jensen hesitant inquiry, like he's standing across a vast chasm.

“In conventional terms, yes. This is the reason you were unable to conceive with your previous spouse, being a Beta, and there is still no medical intervention available that would have helped. What’s unique is his sp...”

Jared was numb. His dreams of a little Padackles tearing around their home had literally been salt and burned before his eyes with those test results.

In the recesses of his attention he’s aware of the continuing conversation around him, the longer it goes on, the more his brain is tuning out.

~~~

The first thing he becomes aware of are fingertips caressing his face, softly wiping away wetness damping his cheeks. Slowly blinking the blurry shape in front of him comes into focus.

Jensen is sitting in front of him. More accurately, he’s sitting cross legged in between his own splayed legs on the floor. Jared frowns as his senses are coming back online.

He was sitting on the chair that’s now off to his right so how did he end up with his back against the desk?

“You passed out,” Jensen answers his unspoken question, “and scared the ever-living shit out of me! I thought you were having an aneurysm the way your eyes rolled back into your big head!”

“I..I..don’t know what happened, I was looking at the results, you were asking questions..then nothing.”

“Stress Jared, you are completely stressed out and it's fucking with your illness!” He opens his mouth, “No, I’m not done so be quiet.” Jensen’s voice dropped with his Alpha tone overlaying it,

“Between that final script having you nuts all year, this quarantine fucking up your meds, dealing with your businesses shutdowns, getting Walker started, you had to add pushing for pups, it’s no wonder you couldn’t handle the doctor explanation of...”

“Explanation of what?” Jared lashes back in own Alpha voice, leaning forward into Jensen’s space, his eyes flashing red, “That I’m infertile, sterile, shooting blanks..”

“Shut that fucking mouth for two minutes or I swear I’ll deck you.” Jensen’s normally warm green eyes bleed into a fierce red, becoming hard.

Jared’s mouth snapped shut in surprise. They had gotten into plenty of arguments over the years, gotten in each other’s faces a few times but this was a first. Jensen had never, ever threatened physical harm.

Well, somewhat that time Misha set him off during a panel and he went for him afterwards. Misha stupidly goaded him again before Jensen gave him a shove, ordering him to cool off before he had to do something.

Jensen’s jaw ticked as he mentally counted to ten, “Dr. Rodgers said that you couldn’t impregnate another Alpha or Beta right?”

“Right.”

“The part you zoned out is that your sperm wants to only fertilize an Omega’s eggs.”

Sighing heavily, Jensen crawls over a leg to sit against the desk next to him. Jared pulls his legs up and wraps his arms around them, resting his chin on his knees processing this information as Jensen reaches over and gently rubs his hand in random patterns over his back.

They had mutually agreed on a Beta donor. Now this threw a wrench in the plans.

“Maybe this is a sign we’re rushing into this again. Let’s take a step back and consider all our options.” Jared’s muscles stiffened under his hand.

“I’m not considering anything else and I’m not stopping.”

“Wait...what?”

Jared lifted his head, “I’m not considering anything else and I’m not stopping. I realize this isn’t what you want so don’t worry, I’m not gonna hold you to our agreement.”

Jensen exhaled sharply knowing when Jared spoke in that tone, that was it, end of discussion, mind made up.

Jared gets up, “I’m going to find Dr. Rodgers and see if he's still willing to help me. If you want to leave, go. I’ll get an Uber when I’m done.” He walks out quietly shutting the door behind him.

“Fuck!” Jensen closed his eyes thumping his head back against the desk. He knew he had screwed up and there was only one way to make it right.

***

Jensen asked Jared to let him stay, he was wrong for saying that and he'd be open to one of the Omegas as a possible donor too. Jared wasn’t completely appeased but he was happy Jensen didn’t take the out given him.

The three candidates were smart, attractive, lovely scented Omegas in their twenties that any Alpha looking for a prospective mate would seriously consider, leaving Jensen wanting something else.

“I like aspects of all three Jay, but honestly, I'm not feeling it with any of them.”

“Maybe you’ve reached the stage you’re looking for more substance, less aesthetic.”

“Did you just call me old?” Jensen gaped at his husband.

Before Jared responds, Dr. Rodgers enters, “I see from your expression Mr. Bonham that you haven’t decided on a candidate.”

“It’s not that I didn’t like any of them, there isn’t a..”

“Connection. It’s normal, just because your Alpha doesn’t mean you..desire every Omega you cross paths with. With some it takes time to find the right one.” He looks at his watch.

“We’re at the end of our appointment but I have one more donor I’d like you to meet today. She’s doesn’t exactly fit your personal physical preferences but this omega is...special..and she’s willing to be the surrogate too.”

The doctor opens the door gestures to someone. They stand up to greet her and as she enters they are enveloped by her piquant scent.

“Mr. Page and Mr. Bonham, this is Quinn.”

***

tbc

Part III

GFA: @babypink224221 @waywardjoy @let-me-luve-you @all-4-wincest

SPN: @donnatix @lyarr24

Sam/Jared @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva

#j2 #alpha!jensen ackles x alpha!jared padalecki #j2 fanfic #alpha!jensen ackles #jensen ackles #alpha!jared padalecki #jared padalecki #alpha!jensen x alpha!jared x omega!ofc #j2 au #j2 husbands #surrogate #supernatural

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btschooseafic · 3 years

Text

Hey you, what’s your dream?

Pairing: platonic!oc x ot7

Details: manager!oc, predebut/idolverse, partial BTS World!verse

Summary: Aviva and Jungkook go to Los Angeles for a month.

Warnings: This is a fictional story based on real events. The characters presented here are not the same as their real life counterparts.

[Masterlist]

Interlude 4: Love in LA

summer - keshi

“Feel like summer and I don't wanna miss you

If we don’t touch lips, not an issue”

July-August 2012

When it was decided Jungkook and his choreographer teacher would go to Los Angeles to train from July to August, Aviva was asked if she wanted to go along as a translator. All she needed to do was pass the international driving test and she was good to go.

Not having been home, or seen her family in some time, Aviva took the opportunity to take a few days off to meet them in San Francisco.

Aviva and Namjoon spent plenty of time with Jungkook going over easier common English phrases that he might need to use during the trip.

Aviva and Jungkook had plenty of time to practice English over the 13 hour flight, although they also watched several movies, napped, ate snacks, drew, and compared plane travel playlists.

Jungkook, Son Sungdeuk, and Aviva were staying in a dorm room provided by Movement Lifestyle, the dance company they were learning with. It seemed like the booking agent hadn’t been aware that the room was for two guys and a girl. There was one bedroom with a bunk bed, and a small common living space with a pullout couch. Aviva took the couch, and though she felt a little uncomfortable at first, she quickly adjusted. There was only so much of doing a person’s laundry twice a week before you got over any awkwardness, and besides, they were all too busy to feel awkward. While Jungkook and Sungdeuk focused on dance, Aviva was essentially acting as a full time translator, along with managing meals, travel, and business opportunities.

Jungkook was also feeling stressed out, having double the language barrier with both English and a lot of complex dance terminology. Aviva studied hard so that she could help him better.

They would wake up early in the morning to research terms at a nearby Korean restaurant, where Jungkook said he felt less homesick.

On the weekends they had free time, and ran around by the ocean. Sometimes Sungdeuk would treat them for a meal, sometimes they’d go off by themselves.

On the second Sunday both Aviva and Sungdeuk had business meetings. Jungkook asked Aviva if she could drop him off at the beach still. She was worried about him wondering around alone, but when she picked him up he excitedly told her about meeting a restaurant owner who was Korean, and gave him a free lemonade.

Two weeks before the trip ended, Aviva and Jungkook were coming out of the dance studio for a lunch break when someone suddenly ran at her.

Aviva caught her in a hug, the girl’s legs wrapping around her waist as she laughed.

“Oh my God! I haven’t seen you in person in forever! Your hair got so long! Are you surprised?”

“Ah… noona, are you okay?” Jungkook asked nervously in Korean.

“Jen…” Aviva hugged her back, rubbing her back for a moment before letting go. “Yeah, you did surprise me, can I put you down now? You’re scaring Jungkook.”

“Who?” Jenny wondered.

“My co-worker. My friend. He’s standing behind you, confused.”

“Oh…” Jenny slid off of her, looking sheepishly at Jungkook. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there…” She blushed.

Jungkook continued looking confusedly at Aviva.

“This is my little sister,” Aviva told him in Korean. “She’s your age.”

“Oh!” Jungkook bowed slightly. “Um… nice to meet you!” He held out his hand. Jenny shook it, chewing at the inside of her cheek.

For the next week Aviva spent any free moments with her sister. Jenny was staying at her friend’s house nearby. She joined Aviva and Jungkook for breakfast, Jungkook shyly pointing out his favorite dishes on the menu, Jenny impressing him with her high spice tolerance. Jenny met them during their lunch break as well, picking up food and eating with them quickly on the studio’s front stoop. Aviva would leave with her for an hour or so, to the beach, or window shopping, while Jungkook went back inside for practice.

At night the sisters stayed up late chatting in Jenny’s friend’s living room, eating cartoons of ice cream and giggling about nothing.

On Saturday, Jenny joined Aviva and Jungkook on this week’s excursion. At first Jenny and Jungkook awkwardly followed Aviva through museum, not quite looking at each other or speaking. Then they both got excited by an empty staircase and wanted Aviva to take pictures of them on it. From that moment on, the two found they had a lot in common, from singing, to photography, even to skateboarding! When Jenny mentioned she had wanted to take up skateboarding recently, Jungkook said he’d always wanted to try. On Sunday the two of them went and bought skateboards and practiced together.

Aviva was surprised when Jenny texted her that she’d fallen, and Jungkook was overreacting. She rushed downstairs to find Jungkook carrying Jenny on his back towards the dorm as Jenny complained, her face bright red.

“How do you say idiot in Korean?” Jenny huffed. “I just skinned my knees, he doesn’t need to fucking carry me!”

Aviva laughed. “Your face!”

“Shut up!” Jenny said.

“…Pabo,” Aviva said. Jungkook blinked. “Both of you are idiots… come inside, I’ve got a first aid kit.”

Jungkook finally put Jenny down when Aviva insisted she would be fine. Jenny sat on the toilet in the dorm’s bathroom. Jungkook hovered in the doorway until Aviva shut the door on him.

“I don’t get it,” Jenny muttered. “He was so shy at first, now all of a sudden he’s picking me up and practically running us back here…”

“He’s a passionate kid,” Aviva said, cleaning off Jenny’s knees. “He gets protective over people he cares about.”

“Okay, sure,” Jenny said. “But we’ve only known each other for a week…”

Aviva shrugged. “I’ve always told you you’re a very lovable person.”

“Shut up,” Jenny said again, shoving her. Aviva just smiled.

The last week of the trip, Aviva had been planning to meet her family in San Francisco. However, seeing how well Jungkook and Jenny got along, she talked to her parents, and they came to visit in LA instead.

Jungkook joined them for dinner one night.

“Are you sure I don’t need to dress up or anything?” Jungkook asked, pulling at his t-shirt.

Aviva shook her head. “It’s a casual restaurant. Just chill,” she said. Jungkook swallowed. Aviva sighed and gave him a quick hug. “What are you scared of?”

He shrugged. “It just feels… weird. Can’t explain it. Sorry.”

“Don’t have to be sorry,” Aviva told him. “Remember to breath. They won’t bite.”

By the time dinner ended, Aviva’s mother had given Jungkook resources for learning English, and Aviva’s father had suggested some old comics for him to read.

“…I think dad was more excited to talk to you than to me,” Jenny said as she walked Jungkook and Aviva back to the dorm. “And I haven’t seen him in a while…”

Jungkook looked confusedly at Aviva, who translated. He shook his head. “I’m sure that’s not true!” He said in Korean. Aviva sighed and translated again.

Jenny looked at Jungkook, her face scrunched up in what Aviva recognized as a look of determination.

“Avi—do you mind if me and JK go to that ice cream place down the block by ourselves? We’ll bring you back something if you want, I just… want to talk to him a bit by myself.”

Aviva titled her head. “How will you say whatever you want to say?” She wondered.

“…We’ll do our best with Google Translate and charades,” Jenny decided. Aviva nodded.

“Okay, text me.”

Aviva waited up for Jungkook in the living room. She could already hear Sungdeuk snoring in the other room by the time he came back.

“Your parents picked her up at the ice cream place,” Jungkook told her when he saw her sitting up looking at her laptop.

“I know, she texted me.” Aviva held up her phone. She looked at him expectantly.

He sighed. “Do we have to talk about it?”

Aviva shook her head. “I trust you guys.”

Jungkook smiled.

“Okay. Thank you. I’m going to sleep now.”

By the time the trip was over, Jenny looked almost sadder to see Jungkook go than Aviva.

“That’s not true!” Jenny said when Aviva accused her of this at the airport. “I’ll miss you both, really!” Aviva started to translate but Jungkook waved his hand, blushing.

“I understand,” he said to her in Korean, before turning to Jen, his smile bittersweet as he told her in English, “I miss you.” Both his comprehension and pronunciation had improved a lot over the course of a month.

Jenny took his hand in hers, smiling back at him.

Aviva squinted at them. “Do I have to give you both the, ‘if you hurt them I’ll hurt you’ speech, or can we skip that, cause it’s kind of awkward for me?”

“I vote skipping,” Jenny said, raising her hand without missing a beat. Aviva repeated her question in Korean, looking at Jungkook.

He waved his hands emphatically. “Yeah, no, let’s not do that, I agree.”

Aviva was pleasantly surprised to find Jin, Namjoon, and Soonyoung waiting for them at the airport when they touched down in Seoul.

“Your hair!” Soonyoung squealed at such a high pitch that Namjoon winced, and Jin’s eyes went wide.

“Ah, is that what you use all your vocal training for, Soonyoung-ssi?” Namjoon grumbled, rubbing his ear. Her eyes narrowed at him.

“Yeah, bet I could make even you hit that note with a good swift kick between the—”

“Okay, okay,” Jin said nervously. He looked around. “Eh, what happened to Sungdeuk-seonsaengnim?”

“Bathroom,” Jungkook said.

“Anyway,” Soonyoung continued. “How can you not be excited by how cute Avi’s hair is!” She squealed again, a little less loudly this time, touching the short ends of Avi’s new shoulder length hair. “You haven’t cut it in years—what happened?”

Jungkook flushed. “Ah, that’s sort of my fault.”

Aviva shrugged. “It was an accident, Kookie, don’t worry about it,” she said, patting him on the arm. Namjoon looked at them questioningly. “Jungkook-ah got gum in my hair, Jenny—that’s my sister, cut it out, and it was kind of high up, so she went to even it out and… snip… snip.” Aviva motioned her fingers like scissors. Jungkook winced. “She did pretty good though, I think.”

Jungkook smiled a little dreamily. “Yeah…”

Soonyoung raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay… Anyway, girl, let’s get home. You must be tired. And if you’re hungry, Jin-oppa gave us some leftover stir-fry, for some reason, so you can eat that in the car, if you want.”

“Oh. Thanks, oppa,” Aviva said to him.

He smiled.

“No problem. For some reason, I keep making too much recently, so…”

Namjoon shook his head, smiling slightly. “It’s Jungkookie. He eats the most. Now that he’s back, we’ll never have any leftovers again.”

“Yah!” Jungkook protested. Aviva shrugged.

“He’s a growing boy. Gonna be taller than you someday, Joon-ah.”

“Yeah? He’s welcome to it. He’ll hit his head on the doorframe,” Namjoon thought.

“We should get going,” Soonyoung said again, linking her arm with Aviva’s.

“Ah, right, we’ll wait for seonsaengnim, then,” Jin said. “Give him a ride back, to be polite.”

“I’ll just walk you two to the exit,” Namjoon offered, taking Aviva’s bag.

“You don’t have to—” She started, but he was already walking.

“I’ll just run and get the car,” Soonyoung said as they stepped outside. “Joonie, wait with her.” Namjoon made a face at her way of addressing him, but nodded.

They stood in the muffled quiet of small groups of people getting into cars, moving along with their suitcases. “It does look good,” Namjoon said, pushing her hair back from her face. She stiffened and he stopped, drawing back.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

“You’re not… sad to cut your hair?” He wondered. “Since it was so long…”

She shrugged. “It was a pain to take care of, actually. I was just leaving it longer because shorter hair would make me stand out more, and… well, I was feeling nervous about going to a hairdresser.”

“What makes you nervous about it?” Namjoon wondered. Aviva looked at him. His expression was completely non-judgmental, just curious.

“Well, I don’t like strangers touching me, but I can’t move, because I’m paying for a service, and then there’s the small talk…” She sighed.

“If you ever want to go, I can go with you,” Namjoon offered. She frowned. “If that would help…”

“Well, it might, but… Wouldn’t you get bored?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t remember ever feeling bored when I’m with you.”

“Namjoon…” Aviva looked at him, not sure what she was going to say, and saved the effort of figuring it out by a car pulling up in front of them, the window rolling down to reveal Soonyoung buckled into the driver’s seat. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he repeated. “I’ll see you around.”

Back at home, Soonyoung noted that the trip had done both Aviva and Jungkook well.

“You both seem to have gained a little confidence,” Soonyoung thought as they lay on Aviva bed together, Soonyoung chewing her old favorite American brand of gum and flipping through a nostalgic magazine Aviva brought back for her. “Although, that boy is still such a baby—are you sure him and Jen were interested in each other?”

“They exchanged emails, and phone numbers,” Aviva told her. “She’s shown him some lyrics she’s written, and he’s shown her a cover of a pop song he was too embarrassed to show the boys—it’s cute.”

“I can’t believe it,” Soonyoung popped her gum.

“Ew, stop, you know I hate it when you do that,” Aviva said, pushing her. Soonyoung did it again, looking her full in the eye. Aviva glared.

While she was gone, it seemed like the Bangtan lineup had finally settled. With all seven of the boys finally promised their debut, Aviva was extra happy to help Youngjin book them some side gigs for exposure, such as background dancing and writing on other artist’s songs. Aviva was nervous when the head of every managing department, as well as Bang got together to review her work.

After looking it over, Kim Byunho, Head of the Artist Management team, nodded. “My vote is yes.”

“I’m the same,” Bang Si Hyuk said.

“…Alright,” Youngjin said uncertainly.

“I would say so,” Jungsook agreed. “What do you think, Aviva-ssi, are you ready?”

“Ready?” Aviva repeated. “For what, sunbae?”

#bts #jeon jungkook #bts x oc #jungkook x oc #idolverse #bts predebut #manager!oc #fanfiction #bts fanfiction

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diveronarpg · 4 years

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Congratulations, LISSA! You’ve been accepted for the role of BENVOLIO. Admin Minnie: Our Bellamy has come home at last, and I am so excited to welcome you as well, Lissa! Your application was, in a word, gorgeous. I could viscerally feel Bellamy’s heartache and his struggles with every line, and you mapped out a beautiful peacemaker who has yet to find peace within himself. While I read and reread your prose several times, it was your passion for Bellamy that really made this an easy decision. The level of thoughtfulness and care, Lissa, was next level, truly. It became very clear to us how deeply you loved Bellamy, and I’m so excited to see Bellamy blossom on our dash. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER .

ALIAS:

Lissa.

AGE:

21.

PREFERRED PRONOUNS:

She/her.

ACTIVITY LEVEL:

My time is limited because of university and my part-time internship. However, I’d say I’m able to pop up twice/thrice a week, more or less!

TIMEZONE:

GMT -3.

HOW DID YOU FIND THE RP?

I found this RP some time ago, so I can’t say for sure. Probably through the tags, though!

OTHER RP ACCOUNTS:

https://dantesinfcrno.tumblr.com/.

IN CHARACTER .

CHARACTER:

Benvolio as Bellamy Santo Domingo.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?

“ WAR-BEGOTTEN. ” ╱ “ HIS KICKING A MEANS OF DEFENSE FROM CRUELTY. ”

NATURE VERSUS NURTURE, an undying question with no solutions, a concept with a spectrum that falters and crumbles in the hands of Bellamy: a boy, born amidst carnage, picking flowers in haunted fields and gifting beauty upon the world like a stolen flame only pertinent to deities. He wears no crown of laurels upon waves of untamed hair, but every spring spats thorns before his feet. Bellamy cradles them, plunges them against his veins, his chest, his neck, puncturing his flesh with words whispered by fated winds. Kindness is dangerous as a sharp blade, if wielded with enough precision. He refuses, time and time again, this visceral call from the woods, from the ivory castles that know of corpses and festering. He refuses, vices and sins unbecoming of him –– but they are already there, lurking in the shadows since air reached his lungs for the first time. Bellamy pretends not to see it, but those who stare deep into his eyes can recognize the Stygian darkness that swims underneath honeyed warmth. A flame is still scorching, no matter how domesticated.

IN AN INTERLUDE, he swears there will never be carmine stains in his fingers. He lays awake at night, however –– the blood his heart pumps might as well not be his own; might have been harvested off the bodies buried beneath Verona’s sacrilegious grounds. Bellamy wonders, a heavy conscience his first determining trait, if he is not punishment from the heavens to the Santo Domingo lineage, if he is not a life sentence determined by God to appease the remnant lambs saved from slaughter. As he moves through the Montagues, through his own people, Bellamy looks in a mirror, and sees nothing. He has always been a ghost, meant to carry what no one desires to hold close.

BELLAMY IS NOT A SLAUGHTERHOUSE of the likes of his father: he is a morgue, eerie place of eternal unrest. Battlecries do not linger in his tongue as prayers do; his knuckles suffer a lesser offense than his guts once a punch is thrown. Violence is a betrayal to the murdered saints that crawl through his spine, and once again–– Bellamy refuses to bow before his birthright. In a world of dog eats dog, he opts to remain alive until his last breath is stolen from his lungs, his canines and claws kept safely hidden underneath trained porcelain touch. To be made out of steel, and not crush all tender things that take root in his soul –– is it foolish, or is it admirable? The looks of pity are the only answer he has ever gotten.

“ POETIC AND PHILOSOPHICAL SOUL OF THE ANCIENT GREEKS. ” ╱ “ CURSED WITH GENTLENESS. ”

KINDNESS & WEAKNESS, he learns, are not the same. Mercy is a weapon like any other, and Bellamy learns how to use it. They do not see it ; and dismissal becomes a habit for this ruinous shrine Bellamy dares call his body. He supposes, amidst war, it’s a privilege to have surprise by one’s side: no one expects the quietest of children to strike with such ravenous fury, hellfire blazing against raw flesh. Bellamy doesn’t speak of grief, of this century-old wound that has found a nest inside of his lungs, of this monstrous butterfly learning how to morph itself into anger.

I YEARN FOR PEACE. I yield. I must provide diplomacy for a world eager to end in flames. He repeats such verses as if they’re the poetry he is so fond of –– because the truth is, gentle elegance is a decision he has taken much before he could stand on his own legs. He is an absurdity, an oxymoron, an anomaly. Is that such a terrible thing to be? Is he in the wrong, to still mourn over those who wished to see him dead? He prays, quietly into the dead of night. He prays, and the world listens, but only for a moment. This is all the hope he has, and is it not an exit wound worse than any other? Relentless wishing upon a star, begging for a deity to descend from paradise and provide salvation–– in the end of this path, Bellamy forces himself to become Pariah & Messiah (if not him, who else would find reason amongst blasphemous madness? who else would shamefully bow their head before the cross, and beg for their sins to be forgiven?).

THE CURSE THEY SPEAK OF IS A BLESSING IN DISGUISE, for Montagues & Capulets alike are far too consumed by the fiery flames of murderous passion to understand the gravity of each battle they initiate. Bellamy has run out of ways to explain the weight of the blood that paints cobbled streets red ; decides to act as a fortress for his people (this entire city, plagued by a tale of two selfish families). PEACEMAKER, they say, as if it’s an insult –– as if his loyalty doesn’t lie deeper than any other soldier’s ; as if he has not sworn down his life for the chance Verona might see the sun rise in shades of joyous amber ; as if he hasn’t halted his existence to serve & protect.

BELLAMY DOES NOT offer words enlaced with poison to those who subdue him –– his throat aches with screams locked in for too long, but he dares not speak unless he delivers alluring arguments that might lead all out of danger. This is what he has never chosen for himself, and yet–– he bears it. For his father, for his brothers, for Roman and Marcelo, for the warriors that spit on the paths he follows with religious diligence, for the mothers in this nightmarish town that provides no comfort to their sons but death.

THE MIND HE HAS CULTIVATED, albeit mocked by many, is a powerful companion to the tender heart he has crafted with mangled hands. Innocence is vulgar in a world like this –– but Bellamy’s good will is not one borne out of naiveté. This is what both armies do not understand: Bellamy is not moved by his kindness, nor is he propelled by volatile emotions –– what blooms underneath the tender facade is a deliberate choice he will take, time and time again, funded on principles that have raised Athens from the ground up. This is what he will not abdicate. This is what no one sees, for he is more ghost than man, more mind than matter: amidst wicked and tempestuous men, Bellamy raises himself above raging waves, an unmovable marble tower.

HE, OF COURSE, STILL PICKS UP A DAGGER ╱ a gun, infiltrating loveless troops in order to conquer peace. There is no other way, he has realized. Perhaps crumbling is necessary for rebirth ; perhaps some sins can only be washed out with blood. As Francis Butler once said, “the nation that will insist on drawing a broad line of demarcation between the fighting man and the thinking man is liable to find its fighting done by fools and its thinking done by cowards,” so Bellamy goes to the front lines ; not with the blind desire to create chaos ╱ but to make change. If the weight of the pen is not enough, he will find a way to be heard.

“ SINS OF OMISSION. ” ╱ “ PUT OUT THE FIRES. ” ╱

“ SELF-LOATHING. ”

BELLAMY DOES NOT REST, his mind unable to encounter a moment of quiet. When will this end? He could only ever sleep once he turned his back to Verona, bloodshed no longer marring his door –– but still, he woke up in a cold sweat at least once a week, and it felt like betrayal, deep down in his bones. ATLAS could never hide his true nature, for the Earth would still weigh heavily down his shoulders. He wasn’t missed, of course, too much of an oddity, with idealist visions that somehow disturbed the choleric landscape they lived in. And yet, as he traveled around the globe, as he became renowned for his grasp of law & justice, insatisfaction was in the back of his mind. What if–– they died? What if–– Marcelo disappeared one night? What if–– Roman could not handle life on his own? What if––. No amount of change was capable of drowning this out, when the city that has birthed him was still ablaze. You have become selfish. He would stare at open windows, and the desire to book a flight would bellow inside of his every vein. Embrace your fate, for cowardice is unbecoming of a Santo Domingo.

BITTER ONCE HE LEAVES, bitter once he returns. Is there anything he could do, to prevent this miserable tale of a prodigal child coming back to a nest they’d long forsaken? No matter how many books he has memorized, there are no words that can explain this feeling –– no one can comprehend him, for his scars are invisible to most. He stands, tall and proud, but darkness comes for him, and he howls to the moon, for it is the only being who understands his pain. You, too, fester in ruby shades against your will. You, too, become eclipsed by a purpose much larger you could ever hope to be. You, too, are still following the footsteps of the sun. Bellamy can no longer abstain from this war, so he wears adamantine armour (a brilliant mind, a beautiful smile, poignant words). Some days, it’s easier to pretend he is no longer holy. Some days, he drowns the taste of copper from his tongue with wine. Some days, he cries –– for those he killed ; for his own spirit, mutilated. Most days, he becomes a sacred image made out of steel: I am no angel, but I can try, I must try.

“ BELLAMY MAY BE BORN INTO WAR, MAY HAVE BEEN BRED INTO IT, BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN HE WILL HAVE TO SUBMIT TO IT — NO, HE WILL FIGHT. ”

( ADDENDUM . ) In the novel, Benvolio is a static character, lacking much depth beyond his diplomatic role, as he is often the only voice of reason amidst a vicious crowd led by a herd mentality. I aim to translate his wish for peace as his primary motivation, but root it deeper –– the system in which Bellamy was raised in should have, in theory, destroyed all tenderness his nature would have provided him with. So where does it come from? How has he protected this piece of himself, even when surrounded by death? Bellamy is a strong character –– not only because of his physique, but because his mind is a fortress. I believe his philosophical spirit has always pushed Bellamy to see life beyond the walls of his own home. I believe the love he felt specifically for Roman and Marcelo urged him to value humanity much more than any other soldier of his kind. His gentleness has always been a choice: not always a conscious one, but a choice nonetheless. But no one has only one principle to follow, and morality is a grey and temptatious thing. Bellamy might not be easily led to a fight, but he has always been a protector –– his self-loathing and the ingrained idea that his life is worth less combine to form this selfless persona, sometimes to the point of toxicity, to the detriment of his own being, willing to do it all for whomever is in need.

What is most intriguing to me, concerning Bellamy, is that he is a paradox in more ways than one, which creates a multitude of paths he could take. He strives for peace, but is still fighting a war. In his core, he believes this conflict is useless and only acts as a catalyst for more pain, but since he desires to protect his loved ones (which includes the mob he was raised in, his family and friends, but might as well include a stranger in trouble) & honor his name, he came back to Verona as soon as he was summoned. He has been altruistic for so long it has worn him out, and now selfishness claws at his bones (he has left once, and perhaps he still thinks too often about doing so again –– Bellamy dreams of forgetting this city, wakes up and tries to repent for wishing to find an identity that goes beyond his occupation inside the Montague ranks). The kindness he chooses to exude is in high contrast to the anger that boils on his blood like a second skin –– he is tired of this game, he is exhausted of worrying and burying everyone that has once made him smile (and what does it take, for a guardian angel to turn his back on his people? What does it take, for a god to abandon his creations to bloodshed, and finally allow forgetfulness to consume his brain? I feel like Bellamy is constantly on the edge of an abyss, staring into the void, the point of no return daring him to step further). It almost feels like his body and his mind are disjointed, and his own wishes have been suppressed in order for him to fill in the shoes his family needs him to.

I don’t think Bellamy is moved by passion and intense emotions, even though his biggest motivators are linked to the people he cares about –– in fact, he cares so much about them, that he has always been willing to die by the sword if it meant his father and mother would be safe, if it meant Roman and Marcelo could enjoy a longer and happier life. He is not a cowardly man, never had the chance to be, even when the world became his home –– I envision that Bellamy has seen and lived many tragedies, probably had his hands on a few of them. It will weigh down on his back, on his shoulders. This type of character will always carry an omen on their bodies, no matter how hard they try to wash it out. I think this is a cycle that shackles Bellamy down and he still isn’t sure if he can break free from it (or even if he wants to do so, for being selfish has brought him unbearable guilt during his travels & Bellamy can’t forgive himself for straying away from the path delineated for him since birth): he was raised to be lethal, and he remains in this dark setting where flowers can not bloom, trying to force the petals to come out anyway, trying to grasp the sun and gift it to Verona, and the inevitable failing of this turns him disgusted by his own reflection, desperate to prove himself and justify his existence by doing his duty for the name Montague.

WHAT IS A FUTURE PLOT IDEA YOU HAVE IN MIND FOR THE CHARACTER?

GODHOOD. Verona is a city of sinners, and Bellamy’s hands are not devoid of their own –– however, in them, there is a gentleness carved out not from the absence of violence, but despite it ; a temple raised in the name of Agape, as Bellamy becomes a god, ready to purge & forgive, to kiss the feet of those who have walked upon a dirtied path & purify them. Odin Bello is not the first to use the Santo Domingo’s ears as a confessionary, and he certainly won’t be the last –– there is something in his eyes that prompts people to open up ; to make offerings and sacrifices in exchange of honeyed prayers, for it’s the holiest thing Verona has to offer (a boy still, whose halo is faded ╱ whose body’s a litany of mysteries and nocturnal waves). This is the closest to peace they can get, half-angel at their doorstep, wings bled dry, gunpowder on his hands –– it is sublime as it is terrifying, and some can not bear it (Rafaella, for one, seems to be terrorized by his very image, insistent on driving him away as he pleads for her to see the light: where in God’s name is the child I’ve met, don’t you wish to forge a kinder ending to us all?). In his search for peace, Bellamy has long forgotten his own humanity –– he’s always had to bury it in order to fulfill his role as a son, as a warrior, as a scholar, as a peacemaker (there is no space for him to simply be, and he often wanders around Verona, searching for an exit ╱ the world has not given him an answer, neither has the mob). What is he, but a weapon? What is he, but a forsaken deity? Bellamy has crossed oceans and continents, and still–– he isn’t seen. Is there one to embrace him fully, vices & virtues, blood moon & sunshine? Is there a way for Santo Domingo to dissolve himself of his own existence, but without guilt? The thoughts often haunt him –– but alas, he has to rise in the morning, for his own life is not the heaviest weight he has to carry.

( ADDENDUM . ) Unlike the two other plots I will lay out in the next sections, this one is directed inwards. Bellamy, in my perception, has always seen himself in relation to others –– how he can help, what can he do for them, how his existence can be a tool for others to improve their own lives. He has always filled in a role: his motivations are genuine, but how does one push forward, when dedicating all of their energies to everyone but themselves? I think Bellamy had his time away from home & from the traditional boxes he had to fit himself into, but still–– it was marred by so much guilt and the constant stress of receiving dire news, because Bellamy had always been aware Verona would not change its ways, especially not with him gone. So many of his frustrations are still boiling underneath his skin –– he is out of place, he hasn’t found himself, he doesn’t feel like he can fully pursue his dreams & wants because it would mean letting someone else down. He is still the soldier that put all of his desires on hold in the name of honouring his ancestors, and while he takes pride on this, on his family–– it is oh, so unfulfilling, to aim for peace and come back to war, to raise your voice and not be heard.

I’m very invested in my character’s psyches, and I fully believe every character has many layers that deserve to be explored with utmost dedication –– no one is merely one thing, and it would be quite sad to portray any fictional being as such. I want to explore Bellamy’s vision of the family he so loves, and for which he has given up so much for, how adoration balances itself out with the bitterness he tries to drown so desperately, how he dedicates himself to his job & position even though he feels disgusted by posing as a bodyguard, when the loyalty of those he protects is bought with money and not with the respect he preaches all living creatures should be deserving of. I want to see beyond his quest for peace –– will he ever let his guard down? Will there ever be someone he trusts, beyond the feud that extends over Verona? Will Bellamy find understanding, someone he can speak to, someone that crawls underneath his skin and finds he is so much more than a peacekeeper? Most importantly, will Bellamy discover himself? Will he find his strength to power through this reality he never wished to come back to? Where will he find it? How will it transform him? Is love capable of holding him up, moving him forward? Will the hunger for more break his heart, will the ugliness of bloodshed turn him sour at last?

BROTHERS IN ARMS. Bellamy is a man of the past –– his core survives on sweet memories of a flourishing spring that will never come back. Laughter, juvenile & booming, was something he could only share with Roman and Marcelo, the two friends he feels actually belong to him, with him. Bellamy has never dared to utter his adoration aloud to either of them, has never admitted he’d rather die than see them perish. The love he has given them was perhaps lukewarm, when compared to these two feisty demons with hellfire for hearts: Bellamy’s affection was a tender kiss to the temples, soft massages to erase their aches, a moment of quiet as he wiped the sweat from their foreheads. He never promised to remain by their side, but in his chest–– he knows his place is right beside them, perhaps below them, but still close. And Bellamy has thrown that to the wind once he up and left, consumed with a selfish desire to live as a person, and not a warrior born out of a patronym. He loves them, will always love them most of all –– but maybe that is not enough. Maybe there is an abyss in between them, an ocean separating their souls. Lucky for them, Bellamy is willing to cross it with undeterred determination –– anything to safely tuck them away inside his rib cage ; his drive to protect grows stronger when near them (is there anything he wouldn’t do for these remembrances of boyhood? He is scared of discovering there isn’t, so he blinds himself once Marcelo comes by, once Roman’s cologne reaches his nose). The tally of his sins would grow & grow, and the only ones that would make such fate bearable would be his brothers.

( ADDENDUM . ) Bellamy’s friendship with Roman and Marcelo is one of the things I’m extra eager to explore! First and foremost, because I am sure, beyond Bellamy’s immediate family, these two are his most important people & there is very little he wouldn’t do for them. And, boy, would I like to discover what the limits of this friendship are! Is there a line Bellamy, the loyal Patroclus to these two Achilles, would not cross, even when concerning the people closest to his heart? Would he ever forsake them in the name of his morals? Alternatively, what absurdities would he commit on their names? What lengths would he cover, to see both of them living a long and happy life?

In the book, Benvolio is in a lower position than Mercutio and Romeo –– which is mirrored here, so it opens up a myriad of possibilities. Italian mafias are known for a strict code of conduct & sense of hierarchy, and they also work as famiglias, obviously. So I picture that, although they were raised together, there was always a thin line separating them: Bellamy always considered himself less than Roman and Marcelo, and was satisfied to occupy this lower rank & serve them in any way he could. It interests me in the sense that, even though they’re his closest friends & probably the few people that have always accepted him (because this is another one of his struggles –– both his “softer” personality and his gender identity are probably strange concepts to his traditional family in the same manner, and acceptance is not something Bellamy has ever had plentiful of), I still think Bellamy tries and holds himself back with them –– there are parts of him that are occulted, and purposefully so, from the ones he loves most. So I’m thinking, once he left, it was probably a huge shock for Roman and Marcelo –– no one saw it coming. Of course Bellamy did his best to remain in contact, but still, dissidence is dissidence. So how do they receive him back? Have Roman and Marcelo ever actually seen Bellamy with the same eyes he sees himself with? How much of an abyss has originated in between them, after these four years of distance?

BLOODHOUND. Loyalty and obedience, when combined, are quite a dangerous threat to one’s honesty and commitment to good deeds, especially when an involvement with the mob is concerned. His continuous absence has not gone unnoticed –– and many have frowned upon his return. Bellamy, a soldier? he has heard them laugh. Bellamy, a fighter? he has felt their scorn from the weight of the stares that follow him as he steps into a room. It brings him sick nostalgia ; one that leaves his stomach turned upside down. The children that used to sneer at him for taking care of stray dogs & cats are now his companions in this senseless war (and yet they all seem too eager to see Bellamy fail –– they doubt him, untrust creating a wall between them. More than isolating, it’s demeaning to a man who is willing to give out his life to honor his father’s ╱ a man who has slashed all of his hopes & dreams to fulfill a path that does not belong to him). The bellicose bickering within the ranks, however, does not disturb him –– Benvolio does not get the credit he is deserving of, for hiding so well underneath porcelain features. These soldiers have nothing on the silent storm that builds inside of Benvolio –– his heritage has always been written out in shallow graves, tainted by fate ; by the numerous gods of Death. Now, he is forced to reach for it, to hold it (it scorches his fingers, it gifts him endless agony, but he lets it have its rightful place next to his beating heart). How far into umbriferous rivers can he sink? ╱ What is the limit of this painful allegiance to his own name? Bellamy does not sleep, for all his nights are wasted away in wondering –– what will I become? And that is perhaps the only murder he is not ready to commit.

( ADDENDUM . ) Concerning this point, I’d like to explore a few paths. Firstly, how was Bellamy received back by the Montagues? He was never a figure on the receiving end of much respect, since his quest for peace turned him into a black sheep of sorts, but surely leaving amidst a war was not an act appreciated by many. Are there suspicions of him? Is he a victim of something similar to military abuse from his peers? Trust was certainly lost, and Bellamy is willing to take the steps to conquer it back –– not for himself, but in the name of his poor father, who deserves as much. The point is, how far is he willing to go for this acceptance? Better yet, in order to show the loyalty that he has always cherished for his parents & for the Montagues, is Bellamy willing to go against his principles? Of course, he is wearing their armour while vouching for peace, but this is not a plan that can be considered definitive.

He is merely a soldier, but would he go against the hierarchy he was raised to respect, if he felt the orders given were unjust? Spoiler alert: I think he certainly would, which would only make the trust he is desperate to regain even more of a distant perspective. I think Bellamy would struggle to try to maintain the scales even, to find a balance between obedience and his principles –– but that won’t work forever, and, at some point, he will have to decide what reigns (and that is one more inner turmoil for him to face). This is something that will always be at the core of his development, in my opinion, and it can fluctuate.

For example, Bellamy is a scholar. I see him as the observing type, listening before he speaks. He tries to understand people to the best of his ability. So, of course, he will interact with Capulets and, instead of seeing them as the enemy, he will more likely take a humanist approach. These are individuals, with their own families & struggles, not beasts to be slaughtered –– this is where Odin Bello comes in, for I think he’ll be a very important piece for Bellamy’s development in this sense, because the Santo Domingo willfully trusts people, no matter their background (everyone should have a second chance, should they not?). He is not ignorant or unaware of how this can end, but he is certainly a character with the most disposition to understand someone coming from a different place than he is.

If the time comes where he has to end one of them (and I’d like him to –– whether because it’s a request from Roman or Marcelo themselves, or a decision Bellamy comes to in order to defend them, because his protective nature is not just for show, and it definitely has darker roots), it would be a large blow to his constitution as a person. I don’t think Bellamy would ever forgive himself, and guilt would consume him –– it’s a great source to explore the underlying shadows he has, his self-hatred, and where would those things lead him (would he leave? Would he consider himself, at one point, far too gone & take a leap into war? Would he take his own life? Would he ever betray the Montagues to save another?).

I think this is intriguing as well, because Bellamy’s motivations are directed outwardly –– to achieve peace for the city, to save his loved ones from pain, so on and so forth. So his relationships to others will be determinants to the paths he’d take –– because it’s an instinct of his, to think of others before himself. But, then again, can he be convinced to embrace his selfishness? Can he turn his back to them all, if enough buttons are pushed? Everyone has a breaking point, and Bellamy seems to outright neglect his needs and limitations in order to step in for others –– which means a breakdown is in order, but also that it will take plenty of build-up!

ARE YOU COMFORTABLE WITH KILLING OFF YOUR CHARACTER?

Yes, for sure, if it serves a purpose!

IN DEPTH .

IN-CHARACTER INTERVIEW:

› WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PLACE IN VERONA? ‹

CARAMEL-HUED IRISES meet the ethereal roof of the Cathedral of Verona –– it used to be his favorite place, even when the Capulets reigned over it, for it raised Bellamy closer to a God he could hear ╱ could understand better than he could a war that tinged his family with nonsensical losses and burials, hollowed out spaces carved on their roots as the sunset started resembling more a battleground than a kingdom of beauty. Bellamy recalls the singing that used to echo inside luxurious walls, filling his heart with choirs of warm voices (the boy swore he could feel an angel’s grasp touching his hands, inviting him to reach higher ╱ he never did, terrified of the consequences of holiness, but perhaps he was gifted with a martyr’s heart, and was that not much heavier?). Now, however, the Montague mark has erased memories of saints & softness alike –– there is always a dulled tud to be heard ; a silent ache overflowing from his bones. Bellamy taps his pen against the question he posed against himself: it was a heavy blow too soon since his return, but the Santo Domingo only knows kindness to wounds that do not belong to him. There is a heavy sigh as mulls over his options –– even his home is a lie, one that bears a dismantled innocence he’d rather avoid. In the corner of his notebook, Bellamy writes down, cursive letters delineated with delicacy: “ the library. ” It is no different than the church, for the countless shelves boast about the Montague heritage –– in Verona, there is nowhere to turn, for every piece of the city tells a story not in ink, but with blood (he tries to tell himself he does not hate this, that a part of him does not fester once he walks outside, breathes in the air soaked with death). When Bellamy sinks into immeasurable knowledge, however, it’s easier to forget the reality that awaits him outside the Montague’s fortress –– even as a man, as a soldier, Bellamy lingers in empty rooms, a stack of books by his side as the hours come and go (he does not distract himself with the noises outside, with the possibilities with sharp claws, as poets and philosophers and theorists feed him sublime words). What else could he ask for, but this make-shift serenity?

› WHAT DOES YOUR TYPICAL DAY LOOK LIKE? ‹

IT IS PATHETIC OF HIM, to gather the unstopping questions he received upon his return & write them down to pin answers proper enough (underneath his skin, however, the truth lurks as a viper: you can only spit out honesty to yourself, face half-eclipsed, in secret ╱ no one desires to hear you once the pleasant river that flows down your tongue stanches ; once the corpses start floating up from the depths of your soul to the shore of your lips, disfigured & dismembered, like the crude words you never let out). His handwriting seems to stare into his soul, calloused fingers trembling as his mind splits –– the facade, his candor, the middle-ground that is as unsatisfying as what Bellamy has to offer. He is twenty-four, a degree in law under his belt with a specialization on international relations –– but he is a bodyguard ╱ a soldier (it all depends on who asks) ; and his most prized possession is no longer his mind, but the strength of his brawl. Bellamy finds it strange, even, that they trust his hands to protect –– most days are accompanied by the weighty stare of his peers, as if he is not a pacifist but instead a grenade. It is almost demeaning, for a man of the law to stand by people, but only for a price (as if any life can be monetized ; as if that is not a sin by itself). His mere stance inside the Montague ranks make him a corrupted figure, unclean –– it’s worth it, he mumbles under his breath, it’s what I was made for (his heart seems to rebel with the strength of a caged bird as he steps further into this organization).

His days are spent idly, almost –– his fists are always clenched ; bile is always clinging to his throat, acidic & nauseating. There is no beauty to uncover in Verona, no enthralling tales waiting to be discovered. –––– I spend all of my days trying to be heard, even though I am well aware soldiers are not supposed to have mouths. –––– he whispers to himself, a tender smile forming on his lips (it’s an instinct, more than a reflection of joy). One day, perhaps, his fight will be worth it –– at least, that’s what he tells himself, in order to have half an hour of rest every dawn.

› WHAT HAS BEEN YOUR BIGGEST MISTAKE THUS FAR? ‹

IT’S A QUESTION THAT HAUNTS HIM SINCE CHILDHOOD, for Bellamy often wonders what he could’ve done differently –– is there any choice he could’ve taken, that would spare him of these results? No matter the frequency with which he falls into these pits, the conclusion he comes to tends to be the same: fate would have been kinder only if he had been born under a different name, far away from the plagued streets of Italy –– but since he is a Santo Domingo, the list of his mistakes extends itself much further than the date of his genesis, going back to the first man to shed their skin in the honour of a Montague and not their own. Bellamy’s nails dig through the palms of his hands –– it throbs, but it’s the subdued ache that he is used to welcoming with open arms (he does not pity himself, for his low worth is a fact ingrained on the insides of his thighs and his teeth). –––– What mistake have I not made? –––– he wonders aloud, and his voice echoes and shatters inside this chamber of forgiveness (but even God has abandoned him, no glories to be bestowed upon Bellamy’s solitary altar). His eyes are closed once he starts scribbling, uninterrupted consciousness as he lists his regrets: tearing apart my mother’s womb ; surviving the trials humanity forced upon a frail child’s body ; laughing when I shouldn’t have ; refusing to smile when I should’ve ; abandoning the city that gifted me all I have ; returning to the place that crushed my hopes ; being too tender ╱ being too harsh ; simply being –– not a fleshed warrior, not a kinder deity (just Bellamy, a fine friend, and nothing more).

› WHAT HAS BEEN THE MOST DIFFICULT TASK ASKED OF YOU? ‹

TO STOP VALUING LIFE, is what he writes down, without much thought. As a combatant, one must first learn how to fall (how to perish) before picking up a sword or lifting their fists. As a protector, Bellamy grew up listening that his life was no more than a shield to his king –– and perhaps, he never truly learned how to give this up, this desire to become more than these red threads of fate ordered him to be (more than carnage, this was his reason for leaving, was it not? To find the parts of Bellamy Santo Domingo that extended beyond mob ranks & fancy nomenclatures for murderers). His dilemma was a sword with multiple edges, and it ended nested inside his chest, puncturing his heart –– no one seemed to mean a thing for the war that raged on, no matter how beloved ; entire families could be wiped clean and left without a proper ending ; kind strangers could become his next target (and, oh, perhaps the smile Bellamy had given them was more ominous than an act of docility ; perhaps he has more claws and canines than he wants to admit).

› WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE WAR BETWEEN THE CAPULETS AND THE MONTAGUES? ‹

I WANT IT TO END, and the words are furious, burning against paper –– his pulse seems to strike with force against his jugular (Bellamy feels every beat, and in his mind, there’s always the awareness it might be his last). –––– It has gone for far too long, it is not worth it –– it has never been. –––– he is a preacher to no one but himself in this moment, solitude providing him an outlet for the emotions he so adores to bottle up, muttering under his breath as the light inside his eyes flickers (it can’t go out, but God –– how to keep a candle ablaze when the winds blow harsher with each new day? How to maintain the warmth inside his muscles when winter consumes him whole? How, how, how?). Bellamy pushes against the current, but his legs are paralysed and frozen ╱ phantom limbs, as he tries not to succumb to the ghostly nature that has followed his every step. Bellamy writes, and writes, and writes –– he has also ran away, he has also tried to become someone else. But now, he is determined to fight –– he isn’t sure of the how or when, but the gun already weighs in the palm of his hand. Time is ticking ; eyes bore into his back. I WANT IT TO END, AND I WILL END IT (and, oh, Lord, what is the cost of this one more choice?).

IN-CHARACTER PARA SAMPLE:

EXTRAS:

Pinterest board.

#accepted #accepted: benvolio

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justacasualbtsblog · 5 years

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Ok so

Map of the soul: 7 dropped today and I am so so late on reporting about it I’m sorry. I haven’t read lyrics or analyzed music videos yet, these are just my views on the album from a musical standpoint. But let’s get into it.

Persona

Like my url says, I am such a casual ARMY I don’t even know if I can call myself that. So I haven’t watched the mv. But I’ve listened to it, oh I’ve listened to it. It starts with an intro I’m nostalgic for even if I’ve never heard it. Then, He begins. Now. I speak one and a half languages and none of them are Korean but I can hear the vibe of the song with no translation error at all. An excellent song and a good way to kick off the best album of 2020. (Update: just read the lyrics and can I just emphasize the last sentence again, The ONLY was to kick off the best album of 2020)

Boy with love

This was released prior to this album but I just get so pumped every time I hear it. I’m not gonna write a super long section for this song, but this song is the most energetic, pure song of this album. Just absolute happiness. 10/10 would bop to again

Make it right

Probably my favorite song of the mini album. Nice vocals and a beat that is soft but there. It didn’t get lost in the rest of the song and for that, I applaud the producer. And Sugas rap verse, backed up with the perfect volume of vocals. Just an all around win

Jamais Vu

I’ll be honest, I never really listened to this song in its entirety. Biiig mistake on my part. This is so soft and calming. Fusing the vocal verse with the rap verse was smooth and so so fitting. The hook is memorable and the song isn’t over produced. *italian chef kiss*

Dionysus

Full 180 off jamais, Dionysus runs in with a base to be remembered, lyrics that mean so much and the bridge is sosososo good, I’ve tried to sing it in broken Korean more times than I can count. Then the rap verse came out of nowhere and wrecked me HOLY DAMN. He sure went awf and I am not complaining.

Interlude : shadow

I am suga biased and that has not changed. I have no words. I have watched the music video and that’s a whole other thing. The way he didn’t start this song by saying suga. He’s speaking as himself and it’s just enough to top this song off with a heaping load of holy fuck this is amazing. I’ll stop while I’m ahead and move on before I write an essay on this song (coming up next)

Black swan

I listened to this song on repeat for an hour when I first heard it. The melody has gotta be my favorite part. Whatever instrument that is, I want to learn it. I swear I’m gonna end up writing a screenwriter for a musical about this song. It’s so... workable. I can imagine this is any setting and that’s always a win in my book

Filter

The guitar. The vocals. The eventual clap-beat. Something that I don’t need to understand to enjoy. That low-key Latin vibe. I’m sorry this review is short but there are almost no words to discribe what I’m feeling right now. Listen to it is the greatest advice I can give

My Time

My friends favorite song out of this album. JK, you did amazing, keep going. I cannot imagine this song playing out any other way. It is exactly as I expected and it surprised me at the same time. The background vocals add a depth that I didn’t know I needed but wanted either way. The ending has gotta be my favorite bit, just the cool down of no words, it feels right.

Louder than bombs

My favorite song on this album. It has a neon lights, city at night, smoke ribbons and heavy based songs vibe that I adoringly refer to as a “murder vibe”. And this song represents that to the fullest. My new yard stick to all the other “murder vibe” songs I encounter. It’s rare that I find a song where I like the vocals more than a rap verse but this song contradicts and violates that rule to the fullest

I don’t know how this song starts, the closest this I relate it to is, throat singing? But whatever it is, it slapps. The bridge is definitely a thing I will remember for awhile. And the beat, Lordy, the marching band-esk feel. And it keeps all through the song without drowning anything else out at any point or getting lost. Probably my favorite bit.

UGH!

On the level of a cypher or ddaeng. The only rap song I needed. It has a hard hitting drum and base pared with a minimalistic melody that is everything it needs to be. The different ways each of the rappers decide to play with their voices, dragging out some vowels, pitch changes, and speed is some of the best vocal play I’ve heard in awhile. Will probably be listening to this for awhile.

00:00 (Zero O’Clock)

I have my phone set to 24 hour time and there has always been something aesthetic about hitting this time. This song has a ballad like vibe with only the finest beat and EDM backup. With the vocals on point, changing tones and emotions to fit the melody and (I assume) the words, This song sounds like the affirmation of a good day.

Inner Child

This song belongs in my “songs for riding around the galaxy” playlist. It plays like a supernova, starting quiet but leading up to something that I will be listening to for awhile. The song doesn’t give me whiplash between the verses and it all blends together into something that is missing if you don’t have it. Quiet, calm, and collected, all the things I like in a song like this one.

Friends

May I be the first to say, Yes! This is the perfect song to go with spending time with your friends and family. It has an up beat vibe, drum and base that mixes well with what I assume is the message of the song. The “you are my soulmate” caught me off guard and hit me with only the best of feels. Peppy and perfect is my final call.

Moon

The first thing I thought of when I heard this song was, adventure. This sounds like something I’d listen to while exploring or going on a road trip. It sounds like a journey. On the topic of melody, drum and base, this did not disappoint, the melody fits well with the vocals and the drum doesn’t reach my soul, but more encircles my heart. Wakes up the part of me that wants to travel more that anything.

Respect

Probably not the first time this has been said but I have major respect for this song. The beginning has an old hiphop record scratch that fits really well with the modern EDM and that’s surprising. If this song is about what I think it’s about (and lets be honest, it never is) respecting the people that have inspired and helped them grow than this is exactly the song for the occasion.

We are bulletproof : the eternal

A real change from the other two WABPs, and a welcomed one too. This has a finale vibe too it, kinda like it was made to be at the end of the album. The orchestra in the bridge is so fitting. The base-turned-melody in the chorus is again, fitting. Over all, this song was made to perfection, nothing is out of place and nothing is missing.

Outro : ego

This song is something to work out to. It shares a vibe with Hope World and it balance out the album, finishing with an upbeat song was and always will be the way to go. I’ve listened to this song so many times and I don’t really have a favorite part, it’s all really good. But I liked the beginning vocals (ready, set, and begin) and the backup vocals at the end.

This album was balanced, very perfected and personable. There’s not much I can say that I haven’t said already but overall, 10/10. I will be raving about this for a couple weeks and never really get over it. On behalf of all ARMYs, Good job boys, we love you.

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rosereview · 5 years

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Top 12 Favourite Halsey Songs

So this has been a very delayed post. I meant to write a Halsey Manic album review right after the album came out a month ago, but when I sat down to write it, I just couldn’t get the words out. I felt like I couldn’t at all do it justice and everything I wanted to share about the album just wouldn’t be able to fit in one post. So instead I have decided to do a Top 12 Halsey Song list instead to still share my thoughts on my favourite songs by her in this new album, but putting less pressure on trying to explain the album as a whole. This list will actually consist of songs from all three of her albums and her EP, but by the amount of songs from her new album, it is quite clear which album is my favourite. (It’s Manic!) So let’s get started…

12. Closer by The Chainsmokers featuring Halsey

I know this is actually a Chainsmokers song, but I will forever love this song. This was such a hit on the radio and still is today, and gets so overplayed, but for some reason I loved that. I took pride in singing along and knowing all the words to the whole song and doing my own little fun dance to it at the same time. This song introduced me to Halsey and The Chainsmokers and I will forever be grateful for that. This was the song that started getting Halsey’s songs on the radio which was amazing for her career and getting her even more recognized by people, me included, and now she’s my favourite female artist of all time.

11. Angel On Fire

This song is actually from her second studio album, Hopeless Fountain Kingdom, which I loved before Manic came out. Halsey’s songwriting skills are just amazing and it shows so much in all of these songs. This song really spoke to me through being alone and not being understood especially through her new found fame. It could also represent her growing up from the way she says “I’m standing in the ashes of who I used to be”. It has the perfect amount of electric sound that you can expect from Halsey to make it cinematical which really enhances the point she’s trying to make in her message. I liked that about it.

10. Is There Somewhere

This song is from her EP, Room 93, which was her first work she released. This song starts off her stories of what happened in Room 93, and it’s such a beautifully written story that you have to really listen to the lyrics to understand. I love how it’s slower so the lyrics and vocals are more in the forefront so you have to listen to what she’s saying. It’s very nice to listen to because it’s not too overpowering in the electric/alternative music where her vocals can be heard more, and her voice is very lovely to listen to.

9. Roman Holiday

Roman Holiday is my favourite song on her Badlands album and I don’t even really know why. It’s not like a slower song by any means, which is usually what I go for, but when I first heard this song I just loved it. I love the beat to it and always imagine being in a car and going on a road trip when I listen to it and it’s almost nostalgic sounding, thinking about being younger and more spontaneous. I like that it sounds like she’s talking about younger and easier days.

8. I HATE EVERYBODY

Now we get into the Manic “review”. When I first saw the title and the way it’s typed, I was scared that it was going to just be a very angry song and was close to a rock type song like Nightmare. But I was pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t and it’s much more light and fun. I love the way it connects to both Forever… Is a Long Time and Dominic’s Interlude and how they all sound like one song. But even though it’s meant to be listened to after both those songs, it’s also amazing on it’s own. The way Halsey did that just makes the whole album so artistic and amazing, how it’s supposed to all be listened to in order. I also love the message of this song, how you say you hate everyone, but you're actually just lonely.

7. Hopeless (feat. Cashmere Cat)

I at first forgot about this song, but upon listening to it again I realized how many of the lyrics I love and think about even when I’m not listening to the song. My favourite one being: “Cause you know the good die young but so did this, so it must be better than I think it is”. I also just really like how it’s a song that kind of builds slowly through the verses and choruses until it becomes just the music.

6. You should be sad

I don’t why but I love this song! I love that it’s country and sappy and fun. The lyrics are great to sing along to while still having metaphors and exaggeration which just makes it so fun even though it’s a sad song at the same time. It makes me want to get up and dance and sing and just have fun with.

5. Still Learning

I just really love the message in this song about loving yourself and that no one really knows what’s going on in your life and shouldn’t judge you based on that. This song shows how her job really sets her apart from having a normal relationship and having a normal life since she’s in the spotlight and has to travel and it takes a lot out of her. But through all that she still has to love herself and it’s a process to be able to.

4. 929

I love this song for it’s vulnerability and seriously shows who Halsey/Ashley Frangipane is. It really brings us fans and listeners closer to her personally even if we’ve never actually met her. It’s very stripped down and is almost like a conversation she’s having with her fans and I really love that about her, that she aims to show her truth and her reality. That’s all I gotta say.

3. Devil In Me

This was my favourite Halsey song for a while and I still love listening to it. I now absentmindedly start singing to it when it comes on and just get into all the feels. It has such a smooth sound that pairs wonderfully with her vocals but still has a beat and a pick up that doesn’t really make it a slow song. The lyrics are also everything in this song and share its own story throughout the song. It starts with her trying to keep the Devil inside of her but by the end she lets it out and is essentially free.

2. Ashley

This was the perfect song to start off Halsey’s new album, first off because it’s titled with her real name, and second because it’s the most alternative song on the album and is almost saying goodbye to that part of herself. It’s so personal and starts Halsey’s journey through this album in showing her fans who she really is. It introduces who she really is especially after two albums and one EP being concept works. I also love how she put a tidbit of her favourite movie at the end of the song to top it all off.

1. More

The first couple times I listened to this song, I cried. I still don’t even have the words to express how much I love this song and how powerful it is. It’s the most personal track on this album and is several interviews Halsey said that this is the best song she’s ever written and I couldn’t agree more. It’s all about her experiences with her reproductive health and how she’s been through so many miscarriages and thinking at first how she couldn’t a child was the most devastating thing she’s ever experienced, but later learned that she now actually can. You can hear that in the song too, how at first she’s so broken with the idea that she will never get to be a mother or have a family, but by the end she learns that she actually can and is filled with so much hope and love for a child that will come someday. A child that she can’t wait to meet.

So that’s all I’ve gotta say with my love for Halsey. Hope you all enjoyed it.

Until next time!

~Rose Reviews

#Halsey #ashley frangipane #manic #manic album #hopeless fountain kingdom #badlands #room 93

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something-tofightfor · 5 years

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Oh, Virginia (A ‘Just a Place’ Interlude)

Pairing: Ryan Brenner x Reader

Rating: I... think it’s PG? Not even any language?

Word Count: 1350

Author’s note: @the-blind-assassin-12 stepped up (big time!!!!!) and made me a banner for He’s Not Here earlier, and I promised a drabble of her choosing. She picked Neon Lights/Just a Place Ryan and Reader in this scenario. It’s nothing big - just a look into one afternoon for them, a few months after they move to Charleston, but it’s still important.

Pt. 2: The song he’s singing can be listened to here

Tag list: @traeumerinwitzhelden @mfackenthal @songtoyou @obscurilicious @elanor-of-imladris @thesumofmychoices @suchatinyinfinity @audreychaz @benbarnestongue @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @the-blind-assassin-12 @ms-delos @lexxierave @dreams-with-thoughts @gollyderek @thesandbeneathmytoes

You tried the knob with one hand, finding it unlocked, and pushed the door open. You entered the room without speaking - you were home early, and you didn’t want to bother Ryan if he was catching a nap between working with David and heading downtown. Closing the door behind you, you dropped your bag onto the couch, inhaling. What’s that? Noises from the kitchen caught your attention, as did the smell - sage and onions, along with the scent of chicken. Quietly, you stepped closer to the kitchen, a smile creeping across your lips. He’s cooking?

Even though the living room was small, you moved through it slowly, cocking your head to the side as you walked through the doorway and into the dining room, fingers trailing over the scarred tabletop that had been left by the previous occupants. Ryan’s back was to you as he stood in front of the counter, busily chopping things with a knife, and as you paused, opening your mouth to speak, he started singing.

You hadn’t heard the song before, but the way he was singing it made you realize that it was one he was very familiar with, his voice rising and falling as he sang about missing the places he’d been and the people he knew. Instead of speaking, you leaned against the wall, hugging yourself tightly as you watched - the muscles in his back flexing beneath his black t shirt, bare foot tapping on the tiled floor. Listening to Ryan sing for a crowd was one thing, but catching him in the moments when he thought he was alone were another entirely. Like in Vegas, when he’d been singing in the shower, his voice in the kitchen was filled with the emotion that was carried with each lyric. Every syllable was sung with purpose, and Ryan’s guard was completely and totally down - it was raw and it was real, and it was one of the things you loved about him.

Near the end of the second verse, Ryan’s voice wavered and he trailed off, sniffing and shaking his head back and forth, his left hand going up to his hair to push it back and away from his face. Still, you remained silent, even though you wanted to go to him, to hug him. He needs this minute. Give it to him. He paused, taking a deep breath and returning to his task, throwing handfuls of carrots and celery into a pan on the stove as he started singing again. You weren’t smiling anymore, but you were still focused on him, even as he finished the song, lowering his head and shaking it. “You gonna stand there and watch me all night, or are you gonna say somethin’?” Of course he knew I was there.

His tone surprised you, but as he stood up straight and looked over his shoulder at you, you saw that he was grinning. “I’m sorry, Ryan. You were.. I didn’t want to…” After glancing back down at the pan and stirring the vegetables with a wooden spoon, he turned to face you, holding a hand out. Immediately, you stepped forward, fingers grasping his as he pulled you to his chest, leaning down to kiss you on the mouth.

“Nah. You never bother me. I knew you were there anyway.” He laughed and you did too, shaking your head. As you stepped away and looked up at him, one eyebrow raised, you gestured with your free hand to the stove. What’s this? “Chicken and dumplings… or at least I hope it will be.” You peeked over his shoulder at the pan, which contained shredded chicken, carrots, onions, celery and some broth, and was the source of the smell. A quick glance to the right showed you your iPad, leaning against the backsplash with a recipe open on the screen. “I cheated a little, though. Used rotisserie chicken to save some time.” Smart. “Just gotta let this simmer for a while, and then make the dumplin’ part.” He reached up with the back of his hand to rub at his forehead, and you watched as he left a smear of flour across his brow. That’s the most…

“Smells great, Ry. What made you…” He shrugged, squeezing your hand and then turning back to the stove, stirring the contents of the pan again. You stepped forward, leaning your cheek against his back and stroking his side with your right hand, feeling him move in front of you.

“Wanted to cook for you. Missin’ my mom. She used to make this for us when I was younger, and it was her favorite thing to make when the weather started to turn.” He took a deep breath. “We’d have leftovers for days.” Ryan had told you bits and pieces about his family, about what caused him to leave, about his stepfather and the way things had changed. He’d always said good things about his mom, though, and this - even though it was something small - was his way of bringing her into the place you shared - into your home.

“You did a good job, Ryan. Smells just like when my mom used to make it.” Squeezing his side, you stepped back and next to him, watching as he turned to look at you. Eyes traveling over his face, you reached up with one hand, rubbing the flour from his skin and smiling, biting down on your lower lip. “Never heard that song before, either.” Your hand lingered on his cheek. “Let me guess, she used to sing it for you?”

“No.” He shook his head. “No, she used to play his records, but this song didn’t come out ‘til right before I left home, an’ I heard a few times before I left, but... “ He shrugged. “Learned it to play it a few years later, and just… I donno, reminds me of her.” He looked down, shaking his head, and when he looked back up, his eyes were wide. “Sometimes I think that I don’t deserve any of ths, right?” He gestured around the room and then at you, still shaking his head. “And then I think about what she would want for me, and I realize that I do.” You nodded, dropping your hand to your side and watching him. Let him talk. “This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place on purpose in years, and it feels good.” He smiled, leaning down to kiss you again. “Real good.” The following kiss started out gently, but when you sighed into his mouth, one hand going to his hair, Ryan stepped forward, pushing you back toward the other countertop, tongue delving deeply into your mouth. “I deserve someone like you.”

You do, Ryan. We both do. You nodded, feeling his lips move against yours as he spoke and then neither of you spoke again for long moments, his hand creeping up your hip and under the hem of your hoodie, fingers finding the smooth skin beneath it. “Ryan.” You gasped his name out, pulling away. “It’s gonna burn.” He laughed, shaking his head. “And you’ve gotta go to work tonight, you’re playing-”

“I’m not. They double booked, and since I’ve been there so much, they gave me the night off.” He shrugged, eyes catching the light of the late afternoon, mid-October sun. “You’ve got me all night if you want me.” The look on his face told you that he knew you did, and he laughed, stepping back and pouring another measuring cup full of chicken stock into the pot before covering it and turning the burner down so that it was on low. “So.” He paused, hand going through his hair again. “What should we do?”

Without pause, you reached down, pulling the hoodie over your head and setting it down on the counter before you stepped back toward him. “I dont know, Ryan. What should we do?” He grinned, shaking his head and leaning over, lips in the hair behind your ear.

“I can think of a few things. C’mon.”

---

#ryan brenner #ryan brenner imagine #ryan brenner drabble #ryan brenner story #ryan brenner fic #ryan brenner x reader #ryan brenner x reader imagine #ryan brenner x reader story #ryan brenner x you #ryan brenner x you imagine #ryan brenner x you story #jackie and ryan #neon lights #just a place #just a place masterlist #just a place interlude #my writing #writing #for the-blind-assassin-12

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not-majestic-bluenicorn · 6 years

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The MONSTA X Universe Theory

Hello everyone, and welcome, to my most ambitious theory to this date, in which I attempt to convince you all that I am, in fact, not crazy and that all of MONSTA X’s comebacks can be put into one timeline whole universe. I’ve been working on this for months now, and to be honest I am exhausted, however I decided I needed to put this out before their comeback this next February 18. It’s going to be long, so tighten your seatbelts and pay attention, because we’re going to go deep with this one.

Let’s dive into the theory.

Basic Concepts

Like most companies and k-pop groups, Starship and MONSTA X didn’t to easy on us and introduced us to several interesting concepts like time and space travel and resurrection. You’ll need a basic understanding on how dimensions work for this theory to make sense, so I recommend you to watch this somewhat simple video about it because you’re probably going to need it.

They also make use of a lot of different symbolism, but I’ll explain those along the way because it’ll be easier to fit them with the rest of the theory like that. You might want to know a little about virtues and sins however since those will be mentioned!

The Setting

Before I go on explaining each of the phases of the MONSTA X Universe, I need to give you a bit of setting on how they are connected and why. There’s a vast quantity of in-verse connections but a lot of out-verse ones as well, so in each phase of the theory I’m going to explain each of the clues of both types and how everything ties together.

Almost all MONSTA X videos form part of a same universe that has been divided into several timelines, which can be distinguished by major events that happen inside the story. Not all videos are part of the plot, some of them are merely symbolic, and not all connections will seem obvious at first either, which is why out-verse clues are necessary to this theory as well, and let me tell you that “out-verse clues” is a very wide category.

In any case, now that I have cleared this up, it is time I start explaining the phases of the MONSTA X Universe and how everything ties up together, let’s go.

In-verse

Phase 1: The First Timeline - Origins (Tresspass & Rush)

Trespass and Rush might not seem tied to the theory at first, however, they are; even if they are not majorly relevant to the main events of the story. Both of these releases provide a background to what happens in The Clan, giving the boys’ friendship and origin and a point of comparison to when things start getting so bad they feel the need to go into war. They also show us they’ve been “problem” children from the start.

Phase 2: The First Timeline - The War (The Clan Part 1: Lost & The Clan Part 2: Guilty)

In my The Clan theory (which you can read here and here, and you’ll need to read it ‘cause I won’t go into much detail this time since it’s already there) I established that the boys were very close friends, even before Jooheon decided they needed to start a revolution and formed the X Clan. I believe that Trespass and Rush both happen before the events in All In, again, they’re not very relevant to the theory, but they provide a nice background to how things were before the war broke out.

Given the way they dared military officials and were clearly against the leadership of Hyungwon’s father, it wouldn’t be surprising that they went to jail a couple of times, hence Trespass. Rush is just them being dumb kids, like things should’ve always been. In any case, things start becoming worse and more difficult and Jooheon decides it’s time to start a war, so he forms the X Clan, discovers the magical flower (or the other way around), they make a pact and start the war.

During this war Hyungwon, Minhyuk and Shownu are all captured and rescued. Also, and a very important point, Hyungwon dies. I know in The Clan theory Gina and I said we weren’t sure, but I am completely certain he did die because it’s the only thing that makes him different from the others. Why? Because he’s the only one to be revived by the flower, he’s the only one that dies and comes back to life and frantically that defies the laws of nature. And that is what condemns them all.

We know the plant is magical because it heals their wounds and apparently is capable of reviving them and also of pulling them out of whatever spell Hyungwon and Minhyuk were in during their stay in the hospital. What if the flower can do other things as well? Yes, I am proposing that the flower was what gave Hyungwon his time-traveling abilities. Because the elixir made of the flower is literally what keeps his heart beating now.

Not only that, but the giant heart we see at the end of All In and of Fighter? I mentioned it was a symbol for their new beginning out of the war, but it might be more than just a new beginning. It’s a rift in time-space, the first one actually, and I’m willing to bet Hyungwon was the only one able to cross that door. That moment is the exact ending of our first timeline.

Phase 3: The First Timeline - Interlude (The Clan Part 2.5: Beautiful & Beautiful World Tour VCR)

I discovered the VCRs were important when I went to The Connect World Tour in Mexico and realized a bunch of things, which is what made me look for the VCR of the Beautiful World Tour (BWT from now on) and I was not disappointed. This VCR perfectly connects Trespass (Rush really isn’t that important I promise) and The Clan. You can watch it here.

In the VCR we can appreciate their lives before the war and before the government became rougher. We can also appreciate how they grew to be troublesome kids and even see a glimpse of Hyungwon’s family situation.

Beautiful is a bridge that ties in the symbolism and the stories of the boys in All In and Fighter. But it’s also a video that explains their past and personal fights, everything that made them join the X Clan in the first place (this is explained in more detail in the part 2 of my The Clan theory). Hence why in the BWT VCR the chapter order is Beautiful, Trespass and Lost. Beautiful explains their past, their personal lives; Trespass explains how they came together and became friends, their invasion into a new world; and Lost explains how they lost it all and decided to take action into their own hands. Lost is also the first part of The Clan trilogy, which would then lead to Guilty.

Phase 4: The Second Timeline (The Code)

Our first timeline ends the moment they reach the beating heart. Whether they all go in together or just Hyungwon goes, I don’t really know, but I have a strong reason to believe it was only Hyungwon the one who made it. Regardless, this is what clearly marks the end of our first timeline, because next time we get to see them, they’re leading completely different lives.

While Trespass and Rush hold no contradiction with The Clan, in Dramarama they don’t even know each other, and some of them do not even exist in the same time and space. Jooheon is dead in this timeline as well. Although this could heavily imply they have changed concepts and story, I believe the only way this can make sense is if this is a timeline that occurs after The Clan.

Hyungwon already has his strange time-space travel abilities, yet there’s no sign as to how he obtained them. And even more than that, if it’s clear they don’t remember each other, then why is Hyungwon trying to help them and giving them tools to meet each other (even if it doesn’t work in the end)? If he were just playing the Good Samaritan then surely he would at least give watches to other people right? Yet he doesn’t, we never see him doing it.

Our time-traveling hero has a clear mission here: getting them back together. He’s obviously struggling with this, as there seems to be some sort of agency that catches his activities and stops the people he’s helping? I don’t really think this agency is important to the story itself. It’s just another obstacle to their coming back together. In any case, this timeline is doomed.

Phase 5: The Third Timeline (The Connect: Music Film D)

Destroyer is yet another timeline distinct to Dramarama. We know this because we see different pairings, completely different settings and completely different timelines. Much like the BWT VCR, the Music Film D is divided in three stages: Part 1 The Code (a very obvious reference, this is already letting us know they’re connected), Part 2 Finding the road (if this doesn’t sound like Lost then I don’t know what does), and Part 3 Connected (clear reference to the current album.

D shows us the boys as geniuses, Minhyuk and Shownu are artists, Kihyun and Wonho are science (physics?) prodigies, and Jooheon and IM dominate technology. Through their own methods they all come to the revelation on how to find Hyungwon. Here’s the thing, why would they be looking for Hyungwon in the first place if they don’t know him? This is an entirely different timeline after all and it’s clear Hyungwon is too tired to keep making watches and keep trying to put them back together. He has already worn himself out.

The guys manage to figure it out and find the train station, which could either be a real place in which every timeline and universe converge or just a metaphor for them figuring out how to do the same thing Hyungwon does, either explanation works. They meet each other, they remember, and they go into the train, which marks our second main event in the theory.

Phase 6: Interlude (The Connect: Jealousy & The Connect World Tour VCR)

Jealousy is like Beautiful in the sense that it doesn’t feed the plot itself but helps connect (pun not intended) and put everything else into place. Through different imagery, Jealousy illustrates how the different timelines push them together and then pull them apart, creating different pairings, but that despite this they still share things in common (the paper with numbers, the recorder, the glass of water).

Another thing this video does is allude to Jooheon’s death in Dramarama through the use of os symbolism. In one scene, a paper with his symbol is being burn, while in yet another, the chair he’s seen sitting on throughout the video is being burned as well and then falls down to the abyss.

On the other hand, The Connect World Tour VCR (CWT from now on, watch it here) functions like BWT’s, it creates a clear and obvious connection between Dramarama and D, revealing to us that they do have memories from other timelines. One thing worth pointing out about this is that they do not share memories of Hyungwon from the timelines shown in Dramarama and D, which means they can only have memories from him from The Clan, there’s literally no other way.

It also provides a clearer scene of Hyungwon crafting the watches himself and of him at the top of the Hero building (something I’ll address in more detail later). We can also see the last scene from Jealousy mirrored in the last few seconds of the VCR, which is something worth pointing out.

Phase 7: The Fourth Timeline? (Take 1 and Take 2)

The real question comes now, are Take 1 and Take 2 part of the MONSTA X universe? Despite the obvious change in theme, I have a lot of reasons to believe they do, part of them are in the Out-verse section that follows, so you should pay attention to that.

The most obvious reference I can think of that doesn’t leave room for question is Hyungwon in the Hero building and falling into the water. We saw this scene previously and we see it once again in the “Previous Film” that recently came out for We Are Here. This makes it clear that Take 1 and 2 are indeed connected to The Code - The Connect in a sense.

Plus, the use of symbolism to represent the sins and the characters is a very interesting reminder of other symbols that have been used since way back in The Clan. Finally, there’s also the narrations, which I will discuss soon in the out-verse. The only thing I am not sure of is if Take 1 and 2 form part of the universe from a plot point of view or only as interludes like Jealousy and Beautiful, we’ll probably have to pay a lot of attention to answer that question.

Out-verse

MONSTA X and May 14, 2015

The group’s name and their debut date are actually quite important in order to explain some of the symbolism used throughout their discography. As you might know, MONSTA means my star, and the ‘X’ represents the variable of a mysterious existence.

Back in Trespass, a number appears: M150514X. Any fan that knows remotely anything about MONSTA X knows this is their debut date, and it makes sense that it is in the video because it is, after all their debut video. However, we see something very similar after a while in D, when Kihyun solves the formula for time travel as X=4155102M which is basically the same number we see in Trespass, just backwards and with the numbers shifted slightly (full year still of only the last two numbers, and one number for the month).

This makes sense, because if X is the variable for a mysterious existence, then May 14, 2015 is the day that existence came to be, and I think it’s an amazing reference to make. Even in Dramarama we see Kihyun traveling back to 2015, the year everything began, even the story they are telling through these MVs, in and out of the plot.

References to Real Life

In Jealousy we see a very important reference that took me a long time to figure out. We see them sharing a paper that has a bunch of numbers in it, these numbers prove to be the members birthdays, which again ties up with the concept of existence, because those are the days they started existing.

Another very important thing about these numbers is that, ever since Jealousy, the comeback dates have been matching perfectly with this numbers. The Connect came out on March 26 and I.M was born on January 26, Take 1 came out on October 22 and Kihyun was born on November 22, and finally Take 2 is coming out on February 18 and Shownu was born on June 18. This is just further proof that Take 1 and 2 form part of the Universe.

The Logos and Individual Marks

MONSTA X have an easily recognizable logo that we’ve all seen at least once: a detailed and complex M and X combined on each other so that the inner lines come out longer on the bottom. This is their official logo and as such is present in all of their albums in some way or another (in the back of the photo cards, in the credits, somewhere), however it is not always the most visible.

As you might have noticed, for The Code and The Connect they had a ‘change’ of logo, which happened again with Take 1 and Take 2. Yes, their original logo is still present somewhere in the album (you can see that in unboxings) however it is not the main logo that takes the covers as it did with their previous releases.

I think the logos, in a sense, mark the belonging of one release into the series, as well as mark the important events in the story that change its course. First, we have the original logo that goes from Trespass all the way to The Clan Part 2.5: Beautiful, then it changes for The Code and The Connect, and then it once again morphs for Take 1 Are You There and Take 2 We Are Here.

These changes match with the two main events I have described so far. After they meet the heart in All In and Fighter the logo changes (let’s remember Beautiful works as a way of explaining their past and characters, so technically the story is contained within All In and Fighter only). And then, after they go through the train’s doors in D (same thing with Jealousy) it changes again. Yes, the logos for Take 1 and Take 2 are slightly different because the colors are inverted, it could be ‘cause of the choice of colors or maybe because they’re “two sides of the same coin”, either way the logo is pretty much the same.

Aside from marking the important changes in the Universe, I also think their logos are a symbols of their own. The first one is the original, it’s their identity and matches well with The Clan, it represents them and their union. The second is the loops they’re trapped in, the infinite repetition of timeline after timeline until they’re able to get back together. The third one is what we know as an impossible figure, it’s a shape that can’t exist in a tridimensional plane because it doesn’t make sense, just like how they’re are trapped and followed by their past mistakes and the sins they carry within them.

As for their individual marks. During The Clan they all have an X tattoo that looks just a bit different for each of them, this symbolizes their union as one team. However, after they break apart because of what happened, they start having individual symbols that are sometimes fused to each other. This is the case for The Code’s stylized initial and The Connect’s initials that were put as clocks. For Take 1 and 2, I think their symbols will be the deadly sin that identifies each of them, but we’ll see.

Album Titles

Although I don’t think the album titles are such an important element, I think it’s worth mentioning the structure they follow. For The Clan, The Code and The Connect they all have a repeating structure of ‘The’ and a word that starts with the letter C. Even inside The Clan we had 3 parts, and for the last two albums we’ve had Take 1 and Take 2, which makes me think there might be a Take 3, but do remember what I said earlier. (I remember reading something about a Take 4 because there’s four versions to each album).

Narration Elements

A lot of the MONSTA X videos that aren’t Music Videos contain in the a lot of narration, Take the VCRs and The Oaths for example. The way these narrations are structured mirror each other a lot, and we can even find some recurring elements between them.

Check these comparisons. The phrases under the same colors are related.

Shine Forever, Newton and Hero

Lastly, I feel the need to explain why I didn’t mention these three much. Newton is the easier one to explain: it is a commercial MV. That’s it, it’s obviously not part of anything because it was a commercial, and even if it were part of the universe I think it would lack relevance to it.

As for Hero, it is mostly just a dance video, but the place is clearly representative of something important since it has been using repeatedly in different eras, so I think it’s mostly just the location rather than anything else.

And finally, when it comes to Shine Forever, it just doesn’t fit anywhere. I desperately tried to tie it with everything else, especially after I saw the lights they used in Music Film D and the car crash in Dramarama, but it just doesn’t fit. Plus, it doesn’t fit within the logo theory, it doesn’t have the first logo anywhere visible and it doesn’t have any variation of the logos either that could explain it as a different timeline or setting, which is why I discarded it, which is a shame cause I love the song and MV.

Conclusions

Ever since the beginning, MONSTA X’s albums have been part of one sole universe that poses the journey of a group of seven boys trying to get back together after they get split apart, probably because of what Hyungwon did in All In. But not only that, this is also a story about them, about their struggles and how they’ve grown up. They’re each other’s friends and family, the value of X is their debut date because that is when they came into existence, they are each other’s dreams because they wanted to become artists and they did so by coming together into one group.

So far, we’ve seen the growth of their strong bond, the separation, the reencounter. But just like the narrations says, it is just not enough. D showed them reunited at last, but their sins follow them even beyond that, and their journey is not quite over. They could be the salvation of each other, or their doom.

I hope you liked this theory, and be assured that I’ll add onto it as more things come out and new mysteries are to be solved. If you have any questions you can hit me up on my Tumblr (@not-majestic-bluenicorn), Twitter (@soft_bluenicorn) or my CuriousCat (@soft_bluenicorn)! I’ll be glad to answer them ^^

#bluenicorn does theories #monsta x #monsta x theory #monsta x the clan #monsta x the code #monsta x the connect #monsta x are you there #monsta x we are here #kpop #kpop theory #finally done!!!

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musikfurfreiheit · 5 years

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March of Mephisto

This fanfiction wasn’t written by me, but by a writer who uses the name Fire in the Night. The person asked me to post it on my blog, but all credits go out to her.

Enjoy!

Kamelot, US-tour 2007 Alissa couldn't help herself. Standing on a pedestal, Alissa was jumping to the beat of the music, Thomas and Roy next to her. When Kamelot had offered her to accompany them, she had had no idea who the backing band would be. Roy had only told her they'd be a relatively young band, smiliar to her own, the Agonist. Melodic Metal, Gwen had supplemented. They were known for Within Temptation's former member Martijn Westerholt. Delain. Curiously, Alissa had bought the first album of the band. The first few seconds of the disc had been significant enough. Delain had won a new fan. The singer's voice had captured her in a way few voices ever did. The slightly dramatic style, which became an identifying feature of Delain, had made sure she wouldn't forget any of the lyrics. Now, seeing the band live, she was drowning in the ambience. She felt like she was caught in a trance, allowing her to forget that the main band was not performing yet. While Delain performed Pristine, Roy laid his hand on Alissa's shoulder, signaling her to follow him. The other band members had already left, getting ready to perform. "You coming?!" Nodding, Alissa turned away from Delain, risking one last glance at the singer. Interesting indeed ... Sighing happily, Charlotte sat next to Rob, a bottle of water in her hands. Martijn and Ronald, each drowning a bottle of beer, were talking to Sander, who was busy putting his drumsticks away. "In the mood to accompany us?" "We're allowed in the galleries, right?" "Yep, no one else is up there, except the camera team." "Rob, Charlotte, what about you? Are you gonna join us?" "Of course!" Still intoxicated from being on stage, Charlotte bounced off the chair. "Kamelot are amazing! I don't wanna miss their show!" Ronald checked his watch. "The stage managers should be finished with their work soon. If we hurry, we won't even miss the intro!" "It'll be cool to see their new line-up", Sander reckoned. Together, they left the backstage area. The employees showed them where to roam without being part of the pictures they'd shoot. Charlotte stood in front of the railing, looking down to the crowd. "There he is!" Roy appeared, taking his place between Glenn and Thomas. Behind them were Oliver (keyboard) and Casey (drums). That was the line-up Charlotte expected. What she didn't expect, however, was the woman following suite. Distracted, Charlotte examined the newcomer. The woman had long, blue hair with green standouts. The corset she wore was black, matching her ripped jeans. The black arm gauntlets, filigran as nets, highlighted her bright skin. Her whole appearance practically screamed PROVOCATEUR. As soon as the crowd saw her, the cheering got intense. "Wailing your sorrow Is only my way to comfort you" Her angelic voice lit up the entire hall - "REMINDERS OF INNOCENT YOUTH" Startled, Charlotte did a double-take to make sure the growl came from the blue-haired woman and blinked. Before she could comprehend what had happened, the guest singer switched back to clean vocals, toying with Roy. "Waiting for morrow you're lonely I name your solitude I SPEAKETH THE TRUTH" A growl ripped through the woman's throat, transforming her into a demon. Within two seconds, the threatening manner vanished; the singer leaned into Roy. "Now tell me all about your pain Down to the detail Don't say it's love Your fragile heart feeds my contempt" During "Don't say it's love", the blue-haired singer chimed in, distancing herself from Roy, who'd briefly stroked her shoulders. During the last stanza, the woman smirked at the crowd and Charlotte felt butterflies dancing in her stomach. Sure, she was familiar with girl-crushes, but the last she'd had was Sharon (about three years ago). "Wailing your sorrow Is only my way to comfort you REMINDERS OF INNOCENT YOUTH" How the blue-haired singer could switch from clean vocals to growling without ripping her vocal chords was a mystery Charlotte had yet to unriddle. "Waiting for morrow you're lonely I name your solitude I SPEAKETH THE TRUTH" "TRUTH" came and the woman did half a headbang, the hand with the microphone in the air. "HOI! HOI! HOI!“ As if they were one, the crowd was cheering with the blue-haired singer, who seemed to carry the people's enthusiasm. Roy, kneeling between the speakers, got ready for the next verses. "HOI - HOI - HOI - HOI - HOI - HOI - HOI - HOI - HOI!“ "Chase the heathen call We belong... you and I Unison in all you deny" The woman got closer to Roy, offered him a hand. Slowly, she got lower, taking Roy's hand, letting him lift her instead while he stayed on the ground. Just as the refrain started, Roy stood too. He sneaked around the blue-haired woman who turned into the demon once more. The more the song progressed, the more the singer teased Roy, dancing in and out of his reach, being faithful to the demon appearance she was supposed to pull off. The crowd went crazy, yelling and jumping, cheering for the guest artist. "Waiting for morrow you're lonely I name your solitude I SPEAKETH THE TRUTH I am the thorn in your side That seeks accomplishment REMINDING THE MORTAL OF DEATH I am the spore of your pride An angel heavensent The master of all I AM THE URGE OF THE FLESH " "HOI - HOI - HOI - HOI - HOI - HOI - HOI - HOI - HOI - HOI!“ Fisits rose, supporting the woman who had much more stage control than Roy. The woman started headbanging again. The tension rose, men screamed. Charlotte was certain the walls shivered. The music went silent and the crowd continued cheering, some fans giving a flag with something written on it to the blue-haired singer. "Thank you!" Devil's horn ready, the woman took the flag and placed it behind a speaker. Roy waited for her to put it away. Once she resumed position, the drummer started playing. March of Mephisto followed This Pain, Moonlight, The Black Halo, Nothing ever dies, Memento Mori, Interlude I, II & III, Abandoned, Serenade and The Haunting (Somewhere in Time). Charlotte, who originally wanted to watch Roy, noticed that she couldn't convince her eyes to take themselves off the woman. She was fascinating, capturing her attention in a way she couldn't explain. Growling and clean vocals, whispering and bright opera notes, this woman seemed to be capable of anything. The point was proven when she sang along to The Haunting without making a single tonal mistake. After they finished the setlist, the singer leaned into the guitarist. The crowd was clapping. Laughing, the band members bowed and left the stage. Charlotte stared, completely overwhelmed. A hand on her shoulder ripped her out of her trance; Ronald, Rob and Sanders were nowhere to be seen. Martijn squinted his eyes at her. "Sorry, what?" "Should we go back?" Reluctant, Charlotte turned away from the railing. Lost in thoughts, she followed Martijn, blue hair dancing in front of her eyes. She really should find out who Kamelot's guest artist was and which band she belonged to. Maybe she'd even buy an album. Or two. As it turned out, Charlotte didn't have to do her research. Roy, who was embarrassed that the band members of Delain haven't had time to be introduced to their guest artist before the show started, introduced them to the blue-haired singer. Kamelot's guest artist, whose agreement to tour with them had been of short notice, was Alissa White-Gluz, the singer of a Canadian Metalcore/Melodic Death Metal band. Alissa was to bunk with Delain. Martijn didn't look surprised. Charlotte, who had been busy studying in Utrecht and hence had been excluded from the planning process, seemed to be the only one who wasn't aware of the sleeping arrangements. "Soooo", Ronald showed Alissa around the bus, "that's our kitchen. Roy took your stuff and put it away. Here we have a TV - that's the eating area ..." Charlotte, who wanted to grab a book, followed Ronald as he led Alissa towards the sleeping area. "There's the bathroom - on the left we'd have a shower but as you can see, we used it as storage space. - There are the bunk beds. Kinda like being in the marine, right?" Alissa agreed. Charlotte, searching her book in the depths of her bunk bed, was looking through her bags. "The bed over there's yours. Make yourself at home. If you continue ahead, there's the lounge. I'll play beer pong with the guys. If you want to, you can join us." "No thanks. Alcohol isn't really my thing", Alissa declined, throwing her bag on the bed. Ronald nodded. "We'll drive the whole night. Tomorrow, we'll be in Chicago. Just try to not miss any sound checks", he advised. "Wouldn't dream of it", Alissa said. Ronald left. Charlotte heard how Alissa organized her stuff. Grabbing Goethe's Fist, she sat in the lounge and read. After a while, Alissa joined her, a bottle of soy milk in her hands. "You're a vegetarian?" Alissa looked at her; it looked like she was trying to decipher which eye color Charlotte had. "Vegan", she said. "And straight edge." "That's the hardcore punk way of living, right? No drugs, no alcohol?" "Not exclusively, for some it means no caffeine and responsible sex as well", Alissa said. "Most are vegetarian or vegan, too." "Being a vegetarian is pretty easy", Charlotte said. "Being vegan is hard though, isn't it? Especially while traveling...." "Nah, you get used to it", Alissa shrugged. "You simply have to know what your body needs." Charlotte put down her book. "Sounds easy enough. Ever since I went veggie, I keep noticing products I never noticed before. Some even jump at me! Have you seen the veggie stuff in the refrigerator? I didn't buy any of them. They just appeared." Alissa grinned. "Delivery service named Ronald?" "More like Martijn", Charlotte said. "Nice." "Hmm." Alissa glanced at the book sitting in Charlotte's lap. "I'm distracting you, am I not?" "What?" Charlotte blinked. "No, that's okay. I'm nearly finished, anyway." "What are you reading?" Charlotte took the book and showed the cover to Alissa. "Goethe's Fist. Did you know Kamelot's album is based on this story?" Alissa nodded. Her lip piercing glittered in the dimmed light. "That's the story of the man who sells his soul to the devil to save himself from boredom, isn't it?" "That's the main plot, yeah", Charlotte agreed. "The book's about the consequences his actions have and how it influences the people around him." "For example?" "There are a lot of examples .... The main character ends up seducing a woman called Gretchen. She gets pregnant and the main character wants to save her with the help of the devil since she is to be executed because people back then were dickheads." Charlotte expected Alissa to drop the conversation after the short summary. Instead, Alissa kept asking her about the plot, about Gretchen and the main character, the devil and the townspeople. Somehow, they ended up talking about the nature of evil and the church. Alissa, outspoken Atheist, listened to what Charlotte had to say in regards of singing for the choir and going to church. "I don't go often", Charlotte concluded, "but I have good memories of it." Alissa nodded. Quietly, they listened to the faint cheering of the guys. "How old are you?", Charlotte asked. Alissa smirked. "What do you think?" "I don't know?" "I'll give you a hint. Ronald told me you were born in 1987. I'm a bit older than you." "1986?" "'85", Alissa said. "31. Juli." "Summerborn." "Aren't you?" "Yeah, 13. Mai." Alissa bit her lip. "One of the magic numbers." "Well, fate knew I'd like horror movies", Charlotte said. "Seriously?" "You don't?" "I don't watch movies in general", Alissa muttered. "Why don't you?" And just like that, the two women lost themselves in a conversation that would last the whole night. Martijn, who was the only one left awake, was also the only one who saw how Charlotte and Alissa exchanged numbers at the end of the tour, hugged each other goodbye and promised to call each other.

#Charlissa #fanfiction #Fire in the Night #not written by me #but I love it #Alissa white-gluz #Charlotte wessels #Kamelot

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flakandforay · 6 years

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Love Yourself 轉 Tear Analysis

this is the overview of bangtan’s 3rd full album: LY 轉 Tear.

disclaimer: this is just my personal opinion, feel free to disagree. do let me know your thoughts in my ask box

overall: this album has been anticipated by many especially since it was meant to be a continuation of the Love Yourself series that bangtan has been promoting in late 2017!

Though bighit has actually released the Love Yourself Wonder: Euphoria film that they had mentioned in several news articles, they released the next instalment of the Love Yourself series with Love Yourself: Tear. Not to mention how Namjoon literally took part in the producing of all the tracks with Yoongi and Hoseok taking part in 8 of them and our Golden Maknae with one song!!!!

One would know this based on the hints of their 2017 year-end shows. And so, here it is.

intro: singularity: okay, so I actually already gussed that this intro would be done by Taehyung based on their DNA positions towards the end of the brdige ( in this theory ). Since Jimin was revealed followed by Jungkook, next would be Taehyung and the next one would be Seokjin.

This intro is definitely me favourite one out of all the intros so far. I really liked the overall vibe of the song. The soft, slow burn jazz is what I live for. Based on my Singularity analysis, I already mentioned how this song is something that I would prolly listen in some café, sipping some coffee and snapping my fingers as some form of poetry is being recited. ( call me cliché, but I believe this song just encompas this whole vibe )

I really believed Taehyung outdid himself with this intro, although it is slightly longer than the previous intros of bangtab, one must consider that this intro is actually much more slower than the rest in terms of the beats per minute and how there is a lot of space in between.

Truly a song that showcases Taehyung’s vocals, skills and even his dancing skills as seen in the MV ( also, aesthetics anyone?????? ) I am so proud of Taehyung right here.

fake love: To be honest, I must say that this title of the song already gives off a real miserable vibe about it. The title of it wasn’t actually released until it was stated in an article prior to the comeback.

The boys have mentioned to us before how excited and believe that this title track would hit it off and in fact it did!! It actually earned 35 PAK ( Perfect All Kill ) before they even step foot in Korea since their comeback dropped.

I really love how the vibe of it is just oozing with BST; the whole sensual and intimate side of it coupled with the sadness of the HYYH series. Truly remarkable. A must-listen song.

It definitely showcased more of Seokjin’s underrated vocals together with the new styles of raps that the boys have been trying out especially Hoseok. Particularly, I enjoyed his rap the most. The choreography here is another plus point that has my eyes being so satisfied at the visuals and everything???

Bangtan, has truly outdid themselves this time round with this title track.

전하지 못한 진심 (Feat Steve Aoki): another wonderful surprise by bangtan by gifting us with another vocal line song!! ( honestly, we are so spoiled because aside from the cyphers, bangtan still delivers vocal line songs!! )

so, while listening throughout the song, I have a feeling Steve Aoki prollu produced thi whole song or co-produced but im not too sure. Honestly, I loved the underlying beat of this whole song, one could consider it similar to a ballad especially from the intro itself with the piano and the soulful voice of Taehyung.

But one could also listen to this as a type of slow burn song as well especially with the lyrics ‘ but I still want you’. With the title itself being translated to ‘The sincerity that I couldn’t show before’; kinda reminded me of the Smeraldo flower which also means ‘The truth that couldn’t be told’.

I love how throughout this song, though there is a nice steady increase in the beats and percussion, it is still a rather slow burn, never actually exceeding the ‘peak’.

134340: im pretty sure this song is much like modern jazz, yet the synths kinda remind me a bit of 이사. But this could easily be altered to Michael Buble if you know what I mean.

Even tha rap done by the rapline especially Namjoon is more towards the laidback one. Also, I really love how there is the use of flutes rifght here which becomes the underlying beat. I loved how there is the use of a female voice that gives the conversation kind of feel in the song.

Also, the way that Seokjin does the bridge sounds a bit like the 80s kind of singing. Truly, it is much like a throwback but in a modern way?

낙원: the title of the song translates to ‘Paradise’. But moving on, I am still learning to grasp onto this song but maybe over some time, it might grow on me.

The synths here are pretty modern actually but the transition from Yoongi to Hoseok is truly one of the key features in this song and the doubling done by the vocal line that gives a much more fuller sound.

love maze: the instrumentals here sounds very traditional until the synths and percussions come in, giving it the modern spin off to something possibly like R&B.

magic shop: out of this whole album, this is one of my fav songs in the entire album actually. To think that Jungkook took part in the prioducing of this song and how that this is their 2ndfan song after 둘!셋! during the Wings era says something!!!

I really love at how calm this song is. The synths are the driving force of this whole song but im so thankful that it doesn’t override the voals of the group especially in the prechorus and chorus as this is where the highlight lies, within the lyrics of it.

Im surprised that the drop of the chorus isn’t so hard but yet it is deemed appropriate and the phrase ‘So show me” “I show you’ just striked a chord within me. I can just imagine the armys just singing along to bangtan truly.

airplane pt.2: honestly, just listening to the intro itself gives me the feel of some Carribean ballroom dancing song specifically th Cha Cha, that’s just how it is. One could easily tell how big the influence of South American music is inside here as well. I mean, you could literally dance to the Cha Cha with this song???

I was actually wondering how is this Airplane pt.2 until I heard Hoseok’s verse. I love how they kinda made a part 2 of Hoseok’s song Airplane and continued from Hoseok’s lyrics to say that now the boys are travelling around the world.

anpanman: this is the kind of song that has the same kind of vibe such as 21stCentury Girls, 고민보다고(GoGo). So, one could easily call this a trilogy to be hoenst. The same fun vibe mixed with a lot of aegyo and audience participation in a way that the dance would most likely involve making some signs or actions towards the audience and capture their hearts etc ( then again, when does bangtan never capture the hearts of their audience?? )

I was actually skeptical to how this is, especially with the title since some speculated that it could possibly be the Jaoanese cartoon superhero but it could also be the name of an asteroid considering the relations with 134340.

so what: this is a song that could be under the same category as Wings: Interlude and the full version of the Wings song, something similar to the kind of 80s disco feel.

outro: tear: let me start off by saying at how pumped I was to actually hear the melodic instrumentals from the 3rdHighlight Reel, specifically (Tear). it is the instrumentals that would increase in terms of volume, speed and percussion that gives off an ominous feeling; and based off the 3rdHighlight Reel, this is where, everything starts to collapse. ( on a side note, I really loved all of the instrumentals from the highlight reel ( I actually enjoyed it by themselves, it’s one whole story itself and it is great )

But I love the twist in which, instead of some kind of slow burn rap down by the rap line, this outro could be considered to be one of the hard songs despite the instrumentals at the beginning. This could easily be one of the songs from Dark and Wild and I wouldn’t even tell the difference except that maybe the rapping styles of the Yoongi and Hoseok have changed slightly. This is especially with Yoongi’s more melodic lines but the breakdown of the underlying beats is easily one of the cypher ones.

The rapline has done it again.

last thoughts: although this album was meant to have more darker themes, I actually expected something like dark and wild in which almost 60% of the songs were just heavily influenced by the heavy angst and rebellious teens so this time round, I was expecting some heavy angst from a recent heartbroken person. Also, they mentioned how this was meant to have some semblamce of rock but only the music structure is of rock but the song itself doesn’t sound like rock.

But regardless, another quality album of bangtan especially with how they mixed their various styles from their earlier albums. One could tell how much they have grown with this album and I could never feel as proud.

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threeminutesthirty · 7 years

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Björk - Utopia (LP) (2017)

On her ninth studio album Björk offers up hope after heartbreak. In fact, in places Utopia feels so palpably like a reaction to what has come before that It’s almost impossible to think about it without reference to its predecessor.

First, let’s start with the palette Björk is painting with this time around: flutes – and a lot of of them – give the record a semi-pastoral feel (think Moomin Valley x The Wicker Man), together with harps (an appropriately celestial choice if you’re crafting a utopia), sputtering and lurching beats (no surprises here), field recordings of exotic birdsong (very much my jam, and captured using the same Calrec Soundfield Microphone beloved of 1980s popmongers, Stock, Aitken & Waterman) and, as you might expect, soaring vocals and rolled Rs aplenty. In short, it’s a bewildering and kaleidoscopic array of sounds, and the whole album feels alive and airy… and kind of urgent.

Lyrically Björk is at her best when her observations are filled with introspective, introverted wonder at the world, and Utopia more than delivers on this score. But Utopia isn’t all beer and skittles (or Friday Flute Club and Venezuelan birds, in this case); far from it. The ghosts of Björk’s past make for a troubled mind in paradise, and twinges of resentment, sorrow and heartbreak regularly rear their heads (most notably on the Loss, Sue Me and Tabula Rasa trilogy).

But make no mistake this is a mind resolved to stop dwelling on the past, to imagine a better future, and to be present with that future as it comes to pass (“imagine a future and be in it, feel this incredible nurture, soak it in… your past is a loop, turn it off”). Utopia represents a yearning for fundamentally simple pleasures as a means of rediscovering happiness and forging a new future. Read in this context, the album’s preoccupation with the open air and the instinctual – feelings, muscle memory, breathing – makes total sense. Hell, even the flutes represent something of a return to a simpler time in Björk’s life. And even when the pain resurfaces, she is perhaps more sanguine and positive about these moments too (“this pain we had will always be there, but the sense of full satisfaction, too”). When it comes down to it, what I like about these songs is the simple honesty of them, as brutal as this honesty can sometimes feel.

“.. I like really open situations – being on the dancefloor at three in the morning, losing myself, but also going to my cabin by the lake the next day and playing the flute. That, for me, is also utopia. Being in love, in the countryside, in nature, with the lake and the sky. That’s enough. You don’t need anything more.” - Björk (from the Autumn 2017 issue of Dazed)

If you’re looking for something resembling the more structured songs of Björk albums past, then you’re not only looking in the wrong place, but you’ve also missed the point. And like Vulnicura before it, Utopia isn’t made with the intention of having its tracks pulled out and inserted into playlists; it’s a singular piece of work – in every sense. It is, by turns, fascinating, hypnotic, challenging and uplifting. If you’re looking to travel to a place you’ve never heard before then Utopia is worth your time.

–

And if you’re not asleep yet, here is my track-by-track:

Arisen My Senses opens with birdsong, what sounds like an electronic bird, harps and soaring vocals. Björk is “weaving a mixtape” and, as the song draws to a close, vocal tracks crash over each other in waves. Among the confusion she ponders to herself whether she is “keen or not keen, to be seen or not seen, with him a he, but he sees me for who I am.” Beautiful.

Blissing Me is a seven verse (no chorus, obvs) love song over harps and beats. It veers between platonic to entertaining the idea of something more and then back again: “is this excess texting a blessing, two music nerds obsessing… sending each other mp3s… the interior of these melodies is perhaps where we are meant to be, our physical union a fantasy, I just fell in love with a song”.

The Gate: “if you care for me, and then I’ll care for you, didn’t used to be so needy just more broken than normal, proud self sufficiency”. I mean, we’ve all been there, haven’t we?

Utopia: here come the flutes, here come the flutes!

Body Memory is about your body’s instincts kicking in to carry you forward and keep you going, when your head and heart appear to be failing you. I think? Musically we’re in a much darker region of Björk’s utopia , and it’s ten minutes long, so you have been warned. Naturally I love it.

Features Creatures continues the darker sound, but here the vocals weave around a whispy, eerie choral backdrop. Again, this is about instinct and memory - specifically your heart’s muscle memory: “when I hear someone, with same accent as yours, asking directions, with the same beard as yours, I literally think I am five minutes away from love”. Björk is truly all of us, but probably better than us?

Courtship sees the flutes returning, alongside sputtering percussion that - somewhat curiously - reminds me of an engine turning over but never quite starting.

Losss’s harp + flutes + beats combo makes this feel like Vespertine + Utopia + Homogenic. “This pain we had will always be there, but the sense of full satisfaction, too”.

Sue Me is about a mother wanting to protect her daughter from the fallout of a broken relationship. Sonically this is very light and breezy. Just kidding, it’s dark again.

Tabula Rasa, or clean slate, is about not wanting to pass your emotional baggage and fuck-uppery on to your children, so in this sense it very much follows on from Sue Me.

Claimstaker: I don’t have anything to say about this song, other than I really like it. It feels like it was included to provide something of an emotional respite from the the previous three tracks.

Paradisa is the twelfth track and an appropriate point to sound the flute and birdsong klaxons again. It’s something of an interlude and helps to make the whole thing feel more cohesive.

Saint: a beautiful song, containing all of the elements we’ve heard previously, but perhaps managing to draw them together in a way that feels more integrated and less jarring than elsewhere on Utopia. Am I sounding repetitive yet? Frankly this wouldn’t sound out of place as part of a film score.

Future Forever is a suitable coda for the whole thing. Shimmering and exquisite and, well, kind of meditative. Her vocals are probably about as straightforward as they’ve ever been.“What I gave the world, you gave back to me”.

Favourite songs: Arisen My Senses, Blissing Me, The Gate, Features Creatures, Loss, Claimstaker, Saint, Future Forever…

#bjork #utopia

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spamzineglasgow · 5 years

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SPAM Festive Special: tom leonard, 1944 – 2018, i.m.

In this special piece to move us towards the close of the year, Rhian Williams remembers the Glaswegian poet, writer and critic Tom Leonard, who passed away on the 21st December 2018.

lower case posits in-the-presence-of lower case is presence lower case is company[1]

> my friend, jane, records how, when leading seminars in modern poetry, tom leonard would ‘light a candle at the start in recognition of “the universal human as inclusive and absolute”’.[2] it is that flame – its quality of intensity and of fade, the darkness around the wick, the gold that haloes it, the soft white at its very edges; a trinity of light – that i think of, and that i write by, now, this day in december, as i remember this man of letters.

light, dense, warm, yellow. light, thin, white, attenuated. light, time, presence.

> it was a still, muffled day in december last year, as i was shopping for groceries, in the shop where tom shopped for groceries, when i checked my phone, and read an email from another friend, nicky, who let me know that tom had died the day before. the shortest day of the year. which had not been one of those when the light is bright and intense – the glorious winter sunshine – but one when a lead-like, restrained, grey light had leaked only blankly in the air. a quiet day. a brief interlude, a space between darknesses. so tom had moved with it, solsequium,[3] a burnished ‘pot marigold’, a mothering light turning with the sun into the darkest space of the year – the edges of a diurnal pausing, according to shetland tradition, when one should set down one’s work for the holiest day, anticipating the miracles and translations of the holy labour, of the returning sun.

stepping into that space out of the past surrounding this place, become an accompanying darkness;[4]

leonard’s work – radical, political, fiercely intelligent, sharply, sharply engaged by (and always advancing of) the ideological work of language, of its plasticity, of arrangement on the page (‘poetry is the subliminal history of linguistic shape | ahem’)[5] – was profoundly welded into presence. the ‘being here-ness’ of human experience: the light in which it stands (‘seductive bright light | of the evening narrative’)[6] and the breath – the spiritus – that marks its paces (‘poetry is the heart and brain divided by the lungs’).[7] his work was experimental in the most serious way, and i see its legacies in scottish poetry today, its sidelong glances at language, at its mendacities, the tell tales of public life. but also its vitality, its telling of stories, its bloodflow. (tom, a true intellectual, but never bloodless.) leonard’s legacy is clear and important: it is evident in a generation of poets (jenny lindsay, nick-e melville, iain morrison, kathrine sowerby, harry josephine giles, as well as jane goldman, come to mind) who regard poetry and poetics as actions, as interventions, as means of revelation.

> at this time of year – at the marking of the winter solstice, the miraculously burning oil in the temple, and the birthing of a messiah – i find myself thinking about the domestic space – the hearth – that fuels that birthing (‘the sacred heart | above the winterdykes | set roon the fire’).[8] of the shifts around presence, being, light and time that i see in leonard’s body of work as comparable to parenting through reciprocity (‘i wish you would touch me more | it makes me feel happy | and secure’).[9] of the vestal work of home-making that i find infusing leonard’s writing: what we might call radical mothering, where mothering is a verb for attentive nurture, for the act of nourishing, for advocacy, for the defence and advance of storytelling. labours which may be (and are) taken up by carers regardless of gender and whose object need not be a child as such. i am talking specifically about the passion contained when leonard remembers his shame at his father’s vocalising during private reading and is encouraged by an audience member to find the use of phonetic urban dialect, ‘rather constrictive’: ‘The poetry reading is over | I will go home to my children’.[10] i am talking about his remarkable feel for the rhythms of daily domestic duty, peeling spuds, going on messages, controlling one’s breath as one walks to the shops. over and again, leonard’s poems mark the habits of a particular class of daily life, intimating the textures and fabric of a life of cooking, laundry, ‘sitting in the garden | behind the toolshed | reading Thomas Mann’,[11] listening to the wireless. fiercely attentive, and alive. now, of course, leonard’s poetics were exquisitely sophisticated – i’m not even remotely saying that his work is ever uncomplicated reportage of private domesticity – but it didn’t surprise me to learn from his sons at his funeral of tom’s presence in the home, of his habit of taking a breather in the day to listen to radio 3, sat on the sofa with tea and a biscuit. or to be gifted his recipe for lentil soup.

the roar of a lawnmower pause the roar of a lawnmower pause the roar of a lawnmower[12]

for what i learn from leonard’s poems, and from leonard’s writing about poems and poetry (verse, from vers – to turn – as in ploughing a field, or mowing a lawn), is that there is a selfhood in poetry that is its animus, its means, its occasion, and its strength of expression. that poems come about from there being a story to be told (‘I was really relaxed talking to the young man I know the story of this place | I grew up in it I have eyes and ears’),[13] and the process of that telling may be quite unselfconscious as it drives towards enunciation, or even be ‘mechanical’ in the sense of algorithmic experimentation. but that self – or ‘a’ self – then becomes conscious as it manifests. that the lyric self – by which i mean the sign of presence in poetry – is not absorbed utterly by private experience, but rather it enters the rhythm of the poem and its shape on the page (all poems have rhythm as all living things breathe, and everything takes shape), and thereby intersects with time, with history, and with material records (‘in our own being | but never wholly separate, only a part | of the time we live in, and with others occupy’).[14] it comes into the world (is birthed?) and so it becomes an agential position: the expressive, poetic subject is an action, a vortex, a meeting point.

But then he began to accept that he was a writer. It was a matter of language and consciousness. The link between the two.[15]

even as this process hints at abstraction (‘as he grew older he stood in separate relationship to himself’), it is actually a return to the flesh, in leonard’s beautiful, active verb: ‘he was able to body himself conceptually as a totality’.[16] … so i learn from leonard that poems are things that are done with and for bodies (‘Gin a body meet a body’),[17] and are caught in the dialectic of giving and of standing back, like mothering.

> jane also told me that tom loved the work of psychoanalyst, donald winnicott – i hadn’t remembered that consciously; it was just a feeling of correlation i had when reading leonard’s work and when reading winnicott’s work on physical touch and play, on the parenting labour that is simply, exhaustingly, that of helping our children to find their own pace and breath. but today my copy of leonard’s Reports from the Present: Selected Work, 1982-94 actually falls open here:

Breath, breath, breath, breath, breath. If only Winnicott had gone further with that aside about the baby’s first perception of breath, median between inner and outer, its role as the point at which the defences are down. Maybe he did, I just haven’t seen it. So much of his stuff is great, so exciting to read. All that stuff about the sucking-blankets (his ‘guggie’, mine used to call it) ‘transitional objects’ and their elation to culture, the first experience of symbols in time. That ‘potential space’ where play occurs … ‘It is play that is the universal, and that belongs to health.’ Good on you, Mr Winnicott. A very healthy man.[18]

in Winnicott, in leonard, in breath (that which brings together time with flesh), and in play, then, we find the scene of reciprocity:

this time breath

held between us

each time familiar

each time new[19]

so often violated – as leonard’s work distils in startling realisation – by institutionalised aggression and belittling, by militarism, by capitalist ideation (‘jesus christ that cunt was a cop!’),[20] in leonard’s poetics, reciprocity is staged through timely proximity, and is a route towards settling into the ‘now’. ‘we lightly hold hands as we sometimes do | until the first to be falling asleep begins to twitch and tonight it’s Sonya’:

I am aged 51 years and nine months and nine to ten days[21]

reading of one of the longest days of the year from the dim of one of the shortest, i find the milky light of glasgow at 3am in june (‘the sky in the north is translucent like a lake’) illuminating the ‘now’ as a quiet scene of resistance, outwitting interpellation; an experience of the self, of the body, and of time that has evaded capitalist value. ‘from within he came to realise himself as an instance of the universal human’.[22]

> the calendar turns, light thins out and attenuates, darkness creeps (‘The three wise kings, who have travelled | All the way from Burns & Oates in Buchanan Street, | Peer at the infant under a torch-bulb’),[23] but rhythms and habits persist:

the future, knitting the future the present peaceful, quiet as if

the same woman knitting for a thousand years

tom, i miss your voice, i miss your wisdom, i miss your knowledge. i miss your compassion, i miss your understanding. your not here-ness is painful.

> and the world keeps turning, the sun keeps rising. the marigold blooms.

glasgow, 16 december 2019

Text and Image: Rhian Williams

Published: 23/12/19

[1] Tom Leonard, ‘the case for lower case’, Outside the Narrative (Exbourne & Edinburgh: etruscan books & Word Power Books, 2009), p. 178.

[2] See Jane Goldman’s contribution in Tributes to Tom Leonard, ed. Larry Butler (Glasgow, PlaySpace Publications: 2019).

[3] ‘To follow the sun’ and the term for the marigold in Middle English. It is used in a conceit by Ayrshire poet, Alexander Montgomerie (1550-1598) that is used as an epigram to Leonard’s ‘The Present Tense: a semi-epistolary romance’, Outside, p.110.

[4] ‘respite in the reading’, Outside, p. 107.

[5] ‘100 Differences Between Poetry and Prose’, Outside, p. 63.

[6] ‘Plasma Nights’, Outside, p. 196.

[7] ‘100 Differences Between Poetry and Prose’, Outside, p. 63.

[8] ‘An Ayrshire Mother’, Outside, p. 209.

[9] ‘Nora’s Place (14)’, Outside, p. 156

[10] ‘Fathers and Sons’, Outside, p. 54

[11] ‘Pollok Poster 1’, Outside, p. 13

[12] ibid.

[13] ‘The Fair Cop’, Outside, p. 189

[14] ‘proem’, Outside, p. 65

[15] ‘A life’, Outside, p. 214.

[16] ibid.

[17] Robert Burns, ‘Comin thro’ the Rye’

[18] ‘The Present Tense’, Outside, p. 113.

[19] ‘touching your face’, Outside, p. 182.

[20] ‘The Fair Cop’, Outside, p. 189.

[21] ‘June the Second’, Outside, p. 181.

[22] ‘Three Types of Envoi: A humanist (2)’, Outside, p. 213.

[23] ‘My Parents’ Living-Room at Christmas’, Outside, p. 53.

#tom leonard #rhian williams #essay #essays #poetry #glasgow

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poeticsandaliens · 7 years

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All the Fallen Leaves (Windward-verse)

I wrote this as a brief interlude between chapters of A Pirate’s Life for Me. It was nice to tear myself away from pirate Stella for a little while and return to Windward before I sink back into sword fights and curses and ghost ships.

Just a glimpse into one brisk autumn afternoon...

“How old do you think this tree is?” Scully asked, leaning comfortably against the thick, knotted trunk of an elm. She was still in her blouse and skirt, though her shoes, coat and pistol lay beside her in the grass. She tucked a shiny autumn leaf behind her ear, but the littlest breeze tossed it away. Stella watched her with cool, stoic eyes. There was no denying Scully's hair stood out in the fall. It stood out any day, Stella supposed, but today she looked particularly stunning.

“Few hundred years,” Stella guessed after a moment's silence.

Scully chuckled and wrinkled her nose. “Be scientifically precise.”

“Centuries older than us, but relatively much younger.”

“Still in the prime of its life.” Scully toed the ground, hands in her pockets. Stella knew what she was thinking—a few nights ago, Scully had looked in the mirror and run her fingers over crow’s feet that used to be freckles and noticed the shadows of her cheeks and confessed that she was afraid of growing old. Not death, she’d specified; death was too inevitable to be worth fearing, and she’d spent so many hours slicing corpses that death had simply become a fact of life. It was the frailty and limitation of old age that terrified her. When se was fighting cancer, she explained, the pain and weakness shattered her, constant reminders of her body’s failure to save itself. She had survived so much and to die so weakly forced her to face the unremarkable truth that every survivor died. Every life she saved in the hospital would one day be lost to time.

“We’re in the prime of our lives,” Stella said, resting a cold hand on her shoulder, running her fingers through Scully’s rust-colored hair. “I may have been nimbler in university, but it certainly wasn’t the prime of my life. It’s not the time that matters—it’s what you’re doing.” She’d learned young not to worry her life would never be as fulfilling as it was in the past.

Scully cocked her eyebrow playfully. “Did you hear your ankles crack walking down the stairs this morning?”

Stella sniffed. “I spent seven hours on an airplane yesterday,” she retorted, “or would you rather I spend my vacation days drinking wine and reading harlequin romance in my flat, instead of paying you a vist?”

Scully rolled her eyes and tried unsuccessfully to stifle a smile. “Seeing you was a pleasant surprise, even if you did make me late for a meeting with Skinner.”

“Had I known you were in a hurry, I wouldn’t have suggested we fuck on your new couch that very instant," she said, and pressed Scully gently into the elm tree. Her throaty voice dropped as a biting gust of wind raised goosebumps along Scully’s collarbone, “Can I kiss you now, or do you have somewhere to be?”

Scully chewed her bottom lip as Stella slipped an arm around her waist and another between her head and the rough tree trunk. Her eyes drifted to the knot above her, where some careless couple had inscribed their names—Shaun + Victoria 4eva—within the ragged outline of a heart.

“Aren’t we” —a sharp intake of breath— “ too old for this?”

Stella’s once-stern eyes twinkled with shrewd bemusement as she followed Scully’s gaze to the tasteless engraving. “Au contraire,” she said huskily, “Shaun and Victoria haven’t put in our travel hours.” Not to mention they lacked proper respect for the tree.

She captured Scully’s lips in hers, stepping forward until the toes her her boots perched between Scully’s legs. She kissed her smile lines, the small patch of strawberry-blonde freckles and the strong jaw that had sharpened in recent years.

Scully’s hands brushed over her cheekbones and down her neck, tracing the austere angles of her face and sharply dressed curves of he body. The parts of her an acquaintance had once told her made her seem oddly timeless, like “a kick-ass Mr. Darcy.”

Stella brushed her billowing black overcoat off her shoulders. The wind rustled her hair, blowing it into her face just as her lips left Scully’s skin. She shook her head, and Scully chuckled in her ear.

“How tight is your skirt?” she asked coyly. Scully fixed her with a skeptical stare, and in response Stella’s hands slid decidedly below the doctor’s hips.

Scully let out a surprised, “Oh!” as Stella lifted her into the air. Pencil skirt be damned, she clasped Stella’s hips between her knees and braced herself against the tree.

Stella's proud nose pressed into Scully’s collarbone, her lips against Scully's breast, expertly unbuttoning the pinstriped blouse with her teeth and leaving only the ghost of a mark on her lover’s skin. Above her, a breathy sigh escaped Scully’s lips, red hair splayed against the bark, obscuring the scruffy inscription.

The breeze strengthened once more, but the goosebumps trailed down Scully’s bare sternum and scattered recklessly across Stella’s neck and shoulders where her lover's deft fingers had been, had nothing to do with a chill. An fiery orange leaf fluttered past Scully’s nose, slid down the ridge of Stella’s cheek, and settled comfortably on their laps, shifting as they moved against each other.

They parted breathlessly, Scully’s face flushed a rosy pink. Stella set her down gently on the earth. She caught her breath with her nose still resting on Scully’s brow. When she spoke, her voice was a soft, throaty rumble.

“More at home,” she suggested, and Scully nodded slowly, her hair rustling with pieces of loose bark.

“To the boudoir,” Scully murmured with a contented smile. She re-fastened the loose button on her shirt. “We’re making wonderful use of what little time we have,” she mused as she pulled away from the tree and stepped beside Stella.

Stella picked up her coat and brushed off the dirt. “Better than a boring eternity.” She put her hands in her pockets and strolled toward Scully’s car, parked before a lone, ivy-covered lamppost at the park entrance.

Feeling more serene than usual, Stella looked around at the nearly bare trees and thought, autumn suited them. Brisk October winds seemed to follow Stella’s footsteps as she strolled through the grass, the dry bones of leaves crunching beneath her boots. Stella had found the deep russet-brown of autumn leaves increasingly macabre as time went on. Every year she sank deeper into her job, plodding obstinately from murder scene to murder scene, and somewhere along the line death had tainted her eyes, and the red leaves fluttering about and crackling like old bones became one more reminder of life’s fleeting pleasures.

Meeting Scully hadn’t necessarily changed that—Stella stood firmly against the notion of eternal souls and everlasting love, and she’d come to terms with impermanence a long time ago. But when she saw the leaves above them quiver on their precarious stems, their crinkled edges slowly turning a coppery red, she no longer thought of bloodstains. She thought of Scully’s hair sticking to the tree trunk when they finally peeled apart.

#the fall #the x-files #stella gibson #dana scully #Stella x Scully #windward

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mariestherapeutics · 7 years

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Crescendo ft. Junmyeon: Part 1. Crescendo’s finally here everyone! :D Also the first person to correctly tell me the reference I made of the Reader’s last name will receive a personal fic (like in Project Follower). If no one gets it then haha I guess I’m off the hook. ^^’ -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(♫) I think there's a flaw in my code, these voices won't leave me alone. Well my heart is gold and my hands are cold.

FOURTEEN YEARS AGO... AGE SIX

"You can do this, Myeonnie, just pretend that it's practice." Kim Seoyeon, the professional cello artist, adjusted her son's tie for the fifth time as he fidgeted anxiously for his name to be called. "You've played this piece many times before, remember." She reassured him, smiling a bit.

Her son, Kim Junmyeon, though exceptionally talented in what he does, took after his father, Kim Yongha, in that he is a professional pianist. He was taught how to read music from a young age and inevitably became a prodigy by the time he was five.

May 21st, his sixth birthday, was the first night he'd have to play live in front of such a grandiose audience, and Kim Seoyeon wanted to make sure everything was perfect for her son's great debut in the classical industry.

"What if I mess up?" Junmyeon asked her, his small hands trembling slightly underneath his long sleeves. "Will they laugh at me?"

"Maybe," His dad told him honestly. Junmyeon stared at him with wide nervous eyes. "So you'd better not mess up." He winked, and Junmyeon managed a little smile.

The three of them stood apprehensively backstage, waiting for the signal to go on. Junmyeon quietly thought to himself that if he didn't play any wrong keys that night, he'd make his mom and dad buy a whole tub of icecream just for himself.

"There's our cue-- let's go, let's go!" Junmyeon had to remind himself to walk, but he nearly ran anyways when he saw the masses of people filling the seats of the auditorium.

"Please welcome the Kim family, who has been gracing our lives with magic since 1976." Junmyeon made a move for the piano at the center of the stage, but his father placed a firm hand on his shoulder and stopped him. This action sent a chuckle through the crowd, and Junmyeon felt his face grow hot. "Ah, this is your new edition, Kim Junmyeon, right?" The announcer asked, bowing in greeting to him. Junmyeon returned the bow, earning a unanimous "aw" from his viewers. "Please give us a good performance today, the Kim family!"

When Yongha released Junmyeon's shoulder, he walked briskly to his piano and took a tentative seat. Junmyeon kept his eyes off of the crowd, like his mom and dad suggested, and found that it comforted him immensly. He watched his mom take a seat on the other side of his instrument, placing her giant cello between her legs and smiling at him. Once he saw his dad sit at his own piano, Junmyeon knew it was time to begin.

He pulled his sleeves up, rested his hands over the black and white keys, and produced the first notes of the song. When the introductory verse was over, Junmyeon waited for his mother's cello to join him, but it never came.

The next few things happened very fast. First, Junmyeon glanced over his piano at his mom, wondering why she was taking so long to play it, when he noticed she was clutching her chest and breathing heavily. Next, his dad stood up from his piano, and the crowd gasped as his mom fell off her chair, her medium colliding loudly on the stage.

"Mrs. Kim!!" Junmyeon's hands accidentally slammed downwards as he stood up, too, trying to get a better look at the scene, resulting in an unpleasant din. At that exact moment, Junmyeon witnessed his mom give a violent shudder, making his heart beat erratically and his breathing shallower.

Had he done that?

"Mom!" He bellowed over the clamor. He saw people in white garments enter the stage and surround her, picking her up onto a rolling bed and bringing her away. Junmyeon was moving to follow, but his dad was suddenly at his side, holding him back. "But, Mom--!" He cried desperately, pointing at her for his dad to see.

"Your mother will be fine, Junmyeon, she's going to be okay." At six years old, Junmyeon's only understanding of the situation was that, when he played the piano, his mother was hurt. As he gandered at the massive string instrument he was so eager to utilize, a shot of fear traveled down his spine for the first time in his short life. He whimpered, stumbling away from it and hugged his dad's midsection.

"I want to go home." He sobbed, tiny hands fisting in his father's tux.

That night, May 21st, 1997, was the last time Junmyeon layed his hands on a piano.

PRESENT DAY... AGE TWENTY

Park's Private Institute of Music has never been an easy college to enter, but Junmyeon managed to pass the entrance exam with flying colors because of his family and history. He didn't even need to show proof that he can play an instrument, not that he wanted to. The only one he ever learned to play was the piano, which would prove troublesome if he were asked to play it.

After the incident on his sixth birthday, Junmyeon believed he hurt his mother by playing the piano, and would cry on the spot if he even looked at one afterwards. Of course, as he grew older and realized how silly that mindset was, he wasn't as trigger-prone to bawling.

Something about that time really scarred him, though, because Junmyeon found that, on his tenth birthday, even though he could look at his piano, he couldn't play it or hear one be played, either.

I'm pathetic, he became accustomed to telling himself when he turned fourteen. He, Junmyeon, who was once his parent's pride and joy, now felt as if he were burden and a disappointment, though they assured him he was quite the opposite whenever they could.

"Your talents aren't limited to the piano, son." His dad, Kim Yongha, had told him at fifteen. "Though we had hoped you'd carry on the family business, you can do whatever you want."

Junmyeon was convinced that his parents were just saying nice words to him, but were secretly trying to guilt him into continuing the family business anyways. After falling for his own assumptions at eighteen, he decided to do it. He applied to Park's Private Institute of Music, much to his parent's approval, and assured them that he'd thrive there.

Yet, on the first day in class, Junmyeon found himself shoving his earphones in just before a classmate plays the piano. His heart hammers in his chest, the experience of being so near a panic attack making his blood hot and his stomach churn uncomfortably.

If he broke down in front of everyone, how would he show his face in public ever again?

Once he saw the student was a safe distance away from the massive string instrument, he tentatively pulled out his earbuds and tried his best to look calm through the rest of the lesson, where other skilled musicians took turns playing their instrument of choice.

Many people played the violin and the clarinet, with a few outcasts who performed the sax or the trumpet, and finally, a pretty girl sauntered to the cello display. Junmyeon watches her with interest, surprised that she went for the cello; he was affectionately reminded of his mother, who lives as a professional cello player.

The girl, who introduces herself as Rifi _____, sets the instrument between her legs, and plays. He, Junmyeon, immediately recognizes the song as his one of his parents', one he learned before his sixth birthday. The interlude ends, and he half expects to hear his father's solo begin, but the cello continues to play the piano's part in the absence of it.

It sounds strange to him, wrong even, and Junmyeon wants to march up there to play it right, but he knows that'd be idiotic of him. It's not his performance, and he wouldn't even be able to press two keys on the piano without freaking out. He settles on ramming his earbuds in again, spacing out until the song is over.

"Now that you all know who's good at what, I want you all to choose a partner whose instrument compliments your own. Your first assignment is to perform a duet." The professor instructs. Many of the students give Junmyeon a sideways glance, knowing that he was the only person who hadn't played something, but he pretended he didn't see them.

For the time being, he was excused of any instrument playing, he thought, but if his first homework assignment is to perform, how will he pass any of his classes? Maybe I can learn something easy, like the triangle, he tells himself fleetingly, but the concept slips away when the girl from before, who played the cello, approaches him.

"Hi," She greets, and Junmyeon pulls out his earphones.

"Hey," He replies, taken aback by the social interaction.

"Would you like to be my partner?" She inquires, tilting her head with the smallest of smiles. Up close, Junmyeon notices, she's even prettier.

"Um, sorry," He mutters disappointingly. It sucks that he has to turn her down. "I don't play anything."

"Well, you must play something if you're in this school." She insists, taking the empty seat in front of him. It's a music course, so there are no desks, just chairs. "Maybe, the piano?" She questions.

Junmyeon tells himself her guess is a mere coincidence to calm his suddenly racing heartbeat. That night on May 21st, 1997, never aired because of what happened. His parents didn't want news of his mother's sudden health issues spreading around, so the world was never introduced to Junmyeon. They went on fewer concerts after that, and no one knew a thing, save for the mass who attended it all those years ago.

Trying to look casual, he says, "Really, I don't play anything."

"You're Kim Junmyeon, am I wrong?" The question catches him off guard, and when he stays silent, the girl's smile widens in a polite manner. "I'm Rifi _____. I noticed your earbuds in while I was playing, so I'm not sure if you caught it."

A surge of guilt filled him, but he remained cool on the surface. "I heard." He reassures, and you nod in grateful realization.

"Great, then, would you?" Junmyeon knows you're asking about you being partners, but he has the temptation to act dumb about it. Before he can have any reaction, though, you add, "I promise you won't regret it afterwards.~"

And that makes Junmyeon pause. How could you possibly know what he'd feel, especially in the future? Not even Junmyeon knows how his emotions will work most of the time, yet... something about the way you're smiling at him, or maybe the way you asked so nicely, made him consider it.

Maybe he really could learn to play the triangle, at least that way, no one would be disappointed.

"If you'll have me." He says finally, returning your patience with a shy grin.

"Thank you!" You exclaim, standing up joyfully. "Let's get practicing as soon as we can, shall we? I'm free tomorrow morning, if you're up to it." Junmyeon realizes that he willingly partnered up with an early riser, and wonders if this will really work out the way you promised it would.

"Where at?" He asks, trying to stay positive. At least someone even noticed him, wanted to be his partner, and was enthusiastic about it.

"I'd prefer it if we used one of the school's playing rooms, but I'm up for anywhere you can go." You say, once again surprising Junmyeon with your friendliness.

"The playing rooms are fine..." He finds himself muttering, even though he has no idea where they're at. "Um..." You seem to know exactly what he's thinking, because you ask,

"Which complex do you live in? I can pick you up at the entrance around 8:30 AM." You swiftly pull out a planner, which Junmyeon stares at as if it were an aberrant. He's never been loyal enough to use one himself.

"I live in building A." He says, but instantly regrets it. Building A is for the wealthy students who can afford their own condo (which took up the entire floor). Admitting his economic status is tantamount to admitting his ability to play an instrument here.

But you either ignore this fact or are oblivious to it, because you smile cutely as you scribble down the letter in your booklet, then you close it and set it back in your bag. "I'll see you, then." You wave, sliding your backpack over one shoulder and departing.

Junmyeon sits there for a while, placing his earphones back in. He's fully aware that his professor is staring at him, wondering what he's still doing there, but he ignores the eyes and closes his own.

Maybe he shouldn't have accepted your request to partner up. Learning a new instrument, even the triangle, before the month was over was absurd. He'd either have to play the piano for you or back out. He couldn't live with himself if he just let it drag on.

Tomorrow, Junmyeon promises himself, finally getting up with his bag as some students from the professor's next class file in. Tomorrow I'll tell her it won't work out.

(Continued in Part 2... Crescendo)

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