#this is just my interpretation of how the plan emerged lol

[thormanick]

Me: hmmm it’s a tad weird that Remus’s plan had some aspects similar to what King Deshret did. Was there some sort of connection between them or-

New Artifact Set’s Flower’s lore: hello

Me: ah! It kinda all makes sense now

[fayes-fics]

Deserved

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: A memorable first wedding anniversary in Marrakesh...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f), facesitting, stripping, vaginal sex. Married couple, romance, teasing, delayed gratification.

Word Count: 8.5k

Authors Note: This is a request fill for the wonderful @broooookiecrisp for her birthday. I hope you enjoy my interpretation of your ask here (request: modern Anthony spends the day seducing his wife). For some reason, I was inspired to set this fic in Marrakesh. Many thanks to @colettebronte for reading through a couple of times, suggesting the title and supporting me when I was close to abandoning this whole concept lol. Enjoy! <3

As soon as your eyes flutter open, your belly flutters too. It's your first wedding anniversary, and you are on a well-deserved break in sun-soaked Marrakesh. You are staying in a beautiful oasis in the midst of town. A riad he has rented that is the picture of Moroccan opulence. So here you lie under pristine soft white cotton; the teal-coloured ceiling studded with gold leaf stars that you stare at is so beautiful you have to sigh. When you stretch your limbs and roll your head to the side, there is one Anthony Bridgerton, your husband of precisely 365 days, lying propped up on his side, already awake, head resting on a casually bent arm, bicep flexed. He greets you with such a handsome stubbled grin that your breath catches.

“Good morning, beautiful wife. Happy anniversary.”

You roll towards him, instinctually wanting him, his skin on yours, perhaps some wonderful slow morning sex to start your anniversary off just right. His chuckle is rich in your ear as you crowd into him and slide an arm around his warm torso, tilting your face up for a kiss, an overture. He hums gently and redirects his lips to your forehead, placing a loving kiss there. Your brow knits slightly, and you are filled with concern about morning breath.

“Your breath is fine,” he laughs, guessing where your thoughts have run. “I just have very special plans for today,” he smiles, cupping your jaw and placing another chaste kiss on your cheek. “Do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” your answer is a reflex; his responding beam makes your heart light. 

“Then I would like to table morning sex, as utterly wonderful as it would be. Today you deserve to be pursued, wooed. I will spend all day earning the right to be with you. To show you how much you mean to me, my beautiful wife.” Warmth spreads under your ribs as he continues. “Now, I have a very special day planned for us, but it starts with breakfast out in the courtyard; how does that sound, hmmm?”

Your tummy rumbling answers for you, and you share a laugh at the timing. With a quick kiss on your other cheek, he pulls away and throws off the covers, stepping out of bed. Utterly naked. Giving you a full view of his very peachy bottom as he leisurely strolls towards the bathroom.

“Tease,” you call after him, your mouth watering at the mere sight of his tanned, toned body.

“Just a little amuse bouche,” he responds lightly over his shoulder, giving a slight wiggle before closing the door.

“Not fair,” you whine, flopping back onto the bed with a grin that feels like it claims your whole face as his responding laugh echoes on the bathroom tile through the wall.

____

Half an hour later, as you emerge from the bathroom fully dressed, he takes your hand, kissing the back of it, his lips lingering and his soft, warm eyes tilted towards you; then he leads you by the hand out to the sunny courtyard. There, right under a perfect riot of date palms, is a table set up for two, gleaming silverware and platters overflowing with fruits, freshly baked bread, olives, sauces and all manner of delights. The enticing aroma of intense Morrorocan spiced coffee fills the air.

“Mmmm, perfect,” he declares and chivalrously pulls out a chair for you to sit, rounding to his only once you are comfortable.

You eat together slowly, lazily, as you reminisce on your wedding day a year ago. The fun, the mishaps, but mostly the love, the love of your family and friends and the joy surrounding you as you pledged yourselves to each other for all to see.

At the end of the meal, as some staff materialise and clear your plates, he places a box in front of you on the table, ruby red against the pristine white.

“What is this?”

“Just the first of many gifts for the day,” he shrugs demurely.

You prise off the lid to find inside an intricately designed paper peony flower encased in a clear Perspex box.

“It's beautiful,” you sigh, carefully taking it out and turning it slowly to see the many, many layers of intricate folding.

“The first anniversary is traditionally paper,” he smiles, “so I had someone take our wedding invitation and order of service booklet and fashion it into a flower for you. There are over 1000 folds and cuts, so it is quite delicate.”

Up close now, you see the print of your names and the design of your invitation, and you inhale sharply. This is hours of painstaking work. And such a thoughtful gift. You swing out of your chair and climb into Anthony’s lap, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

“Thank you, it's wonderful,” you sigh against his lips. He obliges your kisses, your hands looping around his neck as you deepen the kiss running your tongue over his lips. You hear his soft moan and instinctively push your body against him, shifting further into his lap when he pulls back from the kiss. 

“No darling, I have not earned you yet,” he murmurs, moving to your neck, sucking your skin with soft, warm lips in a way that makes you weak and wanting.

“Please, Anthony…” you whine a little, your hand straying down his torso, but he captures your wrist and moves your arm away.

“Don't think I don't want to,” he assures, right in your ear, rich like velvet. “Right now, nothing would give me greater pleasure, my love, but I want to build up to something truly memorable. Earn you. Give you a full day of romance. I am usually so busy with work; I more than owe you this—a year of missed dinners and interrupted plans. Today, in fact, this week is just for us. No work, no meddling Bridgerton family. Just us.”

He’s right, although you’ve never seen it that way or held a grudge. You knew when you accepted his proposal how life would be as the wife of a CEO of a powerful company such as Bridgerton Enterprises. You have your network of friends and your own career to forge. And he always made it home, albeit sometimes late, but with an affectionate greeting and often a mind-blowing orgasm. It’s hardly been a struggle. He’s never left you believing you are anything but what he needs—his safe harbour, his home, where he wants to lay his head, physically and spiritually.

“Please let me do this?” he appeals, nuzzling against you.

The loving, sweet way he asks makes you sigh and capitulate, despite being already ripe and wanton for him. With a theatrical pout that he finds entertaining, you climb out of his lap and retake your seat as he checks his watch.

“We have a car coming to pick us up shortly to take us a little way out of town for our first activity of the day,” he smiles.

“What are we doing?”

“A little camel ride before the heat of the day kicks in,” he smiles. “We can enjoy a little escape from the hustle and bustle of the city with the backdrop of the Atlas Mountains.”

“I've never ridden a camel before,” you confess, a little nervous as he stands up and steps behind your chair, squeezing your shoulders.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right with you,” he promises, then leans in, his breath hot on your cheek. “You have the skill to ride any beast; I have no doubt.”

Yep, he's definitely trying to kill you.

____

Sometime later, having been whisked out of the city, you are being helped onto the camel by a tour guide as it kneels next to some steps. Anthony climbs on effortlessly behind you. And with a quick tug of the harness, the camel is standing up, and you squeal lightly, grabbing hold of Anthony’s hands that encircle your waist.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, and you realise you will be spending the next hour with him pressed against your back, the seat very snug.

“Should we not be on separate camels?” you ask quietly.

“Usually yes, but I requested we share,” his voice lilting, his fingers flexing lightly over your tummy, scrunching the soft cotton of your maxi dress. 

You exhale shakily as you feel his muscles flex against your back as the camel starts to move at a leisurely gait. It's a gently rolling motion that is quite relaxing…. Except all you can think about is Anthony, his legs bracketing yours, the hair of his calves tickling yours where your dress is hitched up. He rests his chin on your shoulder, enveloping you, and points to the stunning mountains. It is indeed a wondrous, unforgettable place, and you savour the vista the best you can even as your thoughts are of the man behind you, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear occasionally between when the guide is speaking. The heat of the desert is still building for the day, but there is a refreshing, gentle breeze amongst the cacti—cooling the sun on your skin.

“I told you you would be a natural,” Anthony compliments lowly as you watch the hazy shimmer on the horizon.

“What I believe you said was something about riding a beast,” you shoot back coquettishly, twisting to say it quietly in his ear, revelling as his hands grasp you a fraction tighter as you say it.

“All in good time, my love,” he responds, dropping a kiss onto the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “Mmm, you smell of almonds and coconut,” he sighs, running the tip of his nose over your skin.

“It's my suntan lotion,” you hum, basking in the feeling.

“You taste good enough to eat,” he rumbles, and part of your mind pleads with him to bite your skin, to slide a hand under your dress and touch you, uncaring there is a guide with you. The press of his toned frame against yours has you in a low simmer of arousal, his sensual touch almost unbearable.

You want to tell him to stop teasing you like this, but it’s as enthralling as it is exasperating. You lean back into him as the camel sways, savouring the intimacy, even as you crave more, distracted by errant flashes of his hands running heavily down your body as you undulate on him in a manner not dissimilar to the movements of this ride—almost as if he planned this. To have you distracted and thinking of him, even in this mesmerising landscape.

“May we have a photo?” Anthony calls, pulling you from your erotic reverie. 

Your tour guide obliges, taking the proffered phone and stepping back to frame the shot as Anthony wraps his arms tighter around you. Smiling for the camera, you know this will be a picture you will treasure for years to come.

“You look beautiful today, my love,” Anthony flatters, running fingertips over the soft, lightweight fabric of your dress as the camel moves again.

“Thank you,” you demure. 

“Although I must admit, I can’t wait to take it off of you later,” he adds in a dusky tone that makes your breath hitch.

“Are you going to tease me like this all day?” you bemoan under your breath.

“Yes,” he chuckles softly, “and it’s probably going to get much worse.” The glittering promise makes your skin prickle even hotter than the desert sun.

____

An hour or so later, you return to your riad, and he suggests you take a cooling dip in the courtyard pool before heading to the souk for a late afternoon tour and then dinner. It's a beautiful tranquil shaded spot framed with plants and tiled in stunning tourmaline green.

The cold water is a wonderful balm from the rising temperatures, and you sigh indulgently as you slip under the surface up to your shoulders, resting your head on the edge and closing your eyes.

You only stir when the water laps gently around your neck as he joins you. Your eyes open to the delicious view of your husband in swimming shorts slung almost obscenely low on his hips. Acres of tanned, toned torso above them with an inviting line of hair trailing from the patch at his chest, down over his defined abs all the way to those shorts. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth, wanting to trace its length.

“My face is up here,” he smirks at your obvious ogling.

“You denied me morning sex,” you lobby back as he wades in slowly down the steps, “besides, I am within my rights to eye up my delicious husband.” 

He laughs and wades closer, dipping under the water and making an almost obscene moan of pleasure, tilting his head back to wet his hair so it is slicked against his head. Then he advances on you with a knowing smile until his arms cage yours against the pool wall, and he pulls in and kisses your cheek.

“Feeling cooler, Viscountess?” he teases lightly.

“I was,” you reply pointedly, and he smirks, pulling you into his arms and wrapping your legs loosely around his hips.

It’s intimate but more sensual than anything else, your arms banding around his neck as you float entwined together, indulging in the cool waters. Wordlessly you cling together and spend many moments in companionable silence, just enjoying each other's embrace and the soothing water.

“Are you enjoying your first wedding anniversary, love?” he asks after a while.

“Very much so; this sets a rather high bar for the future.” You point out.

You feel his smile as your faces are pressed together. “I will bear that in mind,” he replies playfully, kissing your shoulder.

“What is next on this day of dates?” you ask, petting the wet tendrils of hair at the nape of his neck.

“We shall have a private tour guide take us to the best shops in the souk for some more gifts, of course, and then a private dinner cooked for us by a superb chef. And perhaps some dancing?”

“That sounds far too dreamy,” you sigh, turning your head to place a kiss on his neck. The cool water drops over his warmth is tantalising, and you linger, sucking gently, curling your legs around his hips further, pressing into him.

“I know what you are doing, my love,” he chuckles knowingly, “but trust me, it’s better that we wait to indulge,” his voice vibrating the skin against your lips.

“How can you be so sure?” you pout mildly.

He chuckles and pulls back to run a thumb over your lower lip, the slight aroma of chlorine there. “Delayed gratification tastes so much sweeter. Like ageing wine, it is always worth the wait,” he whispers and nuzzles your face, dropping soft kisses on your cheeks that make you feel glowing and jittery inside like fireflies live behind your ribs.

Your hands can’t help but run over his shapely torso underwater as you untangle limbs, wanting the sense memory to tide you over until you can see him without clothing later.

“I shall go get ready for our tour; it will start in half an hour,”

He kisses your knuckles with a smile, then climbs out of the pool, giving you a delectable view of the sweeping, strong line of his back, the curve of the muscle of his bum and legs. It makes you want to trace every contour with your tongue, a viscous throb in your swimwear under the water.

“Damn you, husband,” you mutter to yourself as he grabs a towel and, with a cheeky grin over his shoulder, heads across the courtyard to your bedroom. 

____

A little while later, as the afternoon rolls around, you are changed and ready for a tour. The sights, sounds and smells of the souk are so evocative. As you wander the narrow lanes between merchants, it’s a hubbub and hive of people and activity. Colourful fabrics drape over walls; displays groan with beautiful jewellery, brass lanterns throwing kaleidoscopic swirls of colour, and bright jars filled with earthy spices. The noise of haggling, Arabian music playing from little speakers and the most arrestingly delicious smell of spices, ripe fruits, coffee brewing and delicious foods cooking. It’s an overload of the senses that is delightful as it is intense. All the while, Anthony has an arm snaked around your back as you both wander in awe. 

As you pass one stall, a scarf catches your eye, and you linger, running your fingers over it, amazed at the softness and gauzy quality of the silk. Its varying tones of purple interlaced with silken silver threads. With a handsome grin, Anthony picks it up, wraps it around your shoulders, and nods to the merchant, handing over a bill after a short exchange with the guide. 

“It’s beautiful on you,” he whispers into your hair, bussing the lightest kiss onto your temple. 

“Anthony,” you demure, touching the material and still marvelling at its beauty, “you needn’t buy me so many gifts today. I am just enjoying our quality time together.”

“And I am enjoying giving you everything that makes your eyes light up,” he replies; the sincerity in his eyes has you melting. “Why else would a man work all the hours I do if not to spoil those he loves, hmm?” His lips are warm on your cheekbone. 

You cannot argue with that, so you merely smile and kiss his jaw, slightly rough with stubble. Only when your guide pointedly clears their throat do you break from your romantic cinch and move along.

It’s a delight of an afternoon as you snack on freshly roasted almonds, the most delicious buttery olives you have ever tasted, fresh figs and prickly pears. At one point, Anthony purchases a clay tagine, just about the only kitchen item that wasn’t on your wedding registry and arranges to have it delivered to your riad as you keep wandering.

“This is so memorable,” you sigh as you pause to watch your joint reflection in a mosaic mirror—myriad scattered versions of yourself, each looking as happy as you feel. You watch in the mirror as his eyes meet yours, and then he leans down to kiss your neck, wanting you to watch; so many versions of him kissing do so many versions of you. “So many versions of us,” you chuckle quietly, nodding at the mirror, and he curls a smile against your skin.

“I would love you in every universe,” he murmurs, his breath dusting warm as if he can tell where the mirror has sent your thoughts. “And I think we need to buy this mirror as a reminder,” he smiles. 

You shake your head affectionately but don’t fight his suggestion, and before you know it, there is an arrangement for another item to be sent to your place.

____

After a couple of hours of wandering the souk, you retire back to the oasis of your riad. As late afternoon gives way to early evening, you spend an hour lying under the whitewash veranda on cushioned loungers, reading together in companionable silence as you sip fruit juices.

Your book looked to be a fluffy, lightweight confection of period romance from the cover when you purchased it, but a few chapters into the story, things turn a little spicy when you were reading on the flight. Now a few chapters later, it is happening again; your pulse quickening, a flush creeping over your body at the descriptives. When you bite your lip and squeeze your thighs together on instinct, it catches Anthony’s attention, and he looks over to you intrigued, putting down his book and swinging around to face you.

“Y/n, are you alright?” 

You look up from your book, almost startled, and you watch his face turn intrigued as he catalogues your dilated pupils and the lower lip you are worrying with an incisor tooth. When you don’t answer, he slips the book from your slackened grip and takes it into his hands to read.

“Lady Brook sighed tremulously as his…” he stops reading aloud, and his eyes widen and then cut to you. “Well, that is quite something…” he mutters, his tone dropping lower as his eyes ping from the passage that he doesn’t appear able to stop reading and you. “Darling, this is… quite explicit,” his tone gravelly now.

“Read it to me, Anthony,” you whisper without thought, and his inhale is sharp.

He looks hesitant at first, but then he gets a glint in his eye. “I will do so on one condition,” he offers in low timbre.

“Which is?” you prompt, intrigued.

“You must not touch yourself anywhere as I read,” he simpers. “Just lay there and listen with your eyes closed.”

“Alright,” you concur, wrapping your hands around the arms of the lounger as if to prove a point as your eyes flutter shut.

“Lady Brook sighed tremulously as his hand ran up the inside of her thigh under the table,” his voice is smooth and buttery as you squeeze your legs together tighter, basking in his voice. “The spidering warmth of them making her breath hitch. Just as the King announced the evening’s entertainment, his fingers reached the apex of her thighs, naked, bare and glistening with slick desire just for him.” At this point, Anthony clears his throat and glances around to check no one is within earshot. “Wow, this is…” he breaks from the narrative momentarily, and you sense his shock as he reads ahead silently. “I'm not sure I should read more,” he says quietly, and your eyes open at his change of tone.

“Why not, darling?” the breathy nature of your question is not lost on either of you.

“I think this could derail my plans for the day entirely,” he divulges. “It makes me want to pick you up and take you to bed right now.” There is more than a hint of a growl, and that low simmer of arousal flares inside you at his confession.

“Please, Anthony, do it,” you beseech.

“You temptress,” he lobbies heatedly, and part of you longs for him to lift you, carry you across the courtyard and throw you onto the bed. “But no…” he sounds the most reluctant he has all day. “It will be worth the wait,” he remarks firmly, but it seems as much for himself as you.

You pout but relent as your eye catches the beautiful scarf he bought for you earlier. “Okay, but… later, I want you to do what happens on page 82,” you reply huskily as you rise from the lounger to visit the toilet… and probably splash cold water on your face.

You hear him flipping pages as you walk away and smile as he exclaims, “Bloody hell! Is this what all romance books are like?!? This is utter filth!” 

It’s your turn to shoot a coy smile over your shoulder as you close the door.

____

Within the hour, the sky above your courtyard turns dusky purple and pink as the sun fades. You change into a black halter dress that is simple but elegant—long flowing silk that is almost entirely backless. As a result, you decide to forgo all underwear, the cool silk directly on your skin, a soothing, arousing sensation resting weightlessly on your nipples and grazing the globes of your bare bottom. On your feet, you wear strappy gold leather sandals that complete the look perfectly. 

When you emerge from the dressing room off the bedroom, Anthony has left a hand-scrawled note on the bed to join him when you are ready in the pool courtyard. 

You wander out, and the vista catches your breath. The space is lit softly with up lights amongst the palms and fairy lights wrapped around their trunks. The pool glows invitingly from underwater lighting, and the sky above is now a dusky grey as night falls.

Amongst all this exotic beauty is the sight that truly steals your breath. Your husband in a crisp white shirt rolled up to his elbows, highlighting his tanned skin. Custom-fitted trousers hang perfectly on his muscular frame. He is barefoot, and his hair is slightly tousled. All you want to do is grab his hand and haul him back to the bedroom and tackle him to the bed. 

He smiles wide as you approach, drinking in the view of you, walking a little taller, knowing the silk flows around your body like a shimmery river.

“Wow,” he breathes, and you can’t help the triumphant little smirk at his reaction. 

“It gets better,” you say quietly as you pull up close and then turn your back and hear the almost strangled noise he makes at the sheer amount of skin on display.

“Good lord, you are trying to kill me?” he stutters, feeling the breath he huffs over your shoulder blades.

“Revenge for a day of teasing,” you shoot back, swishing your head to the side so you can see his heated expression behind you out of the corner of your eye.

“Doesn’t feel like revenge,” he breathes.

You jolt as one knuckle runs softly and slowly down each notch in your spine from your mid-back to the scoop of fabric. Just that touch alone causes goosebumps to break out down your arms and your nipples to pebble hard against the silk. 

“Payback then,” you amend, and he smiles. 

“I have more surprises in store yet,” he vows and rounds beside you, taking your hand and leading you to a table for two surrounded by flickering brass lanterns. 

You savour a memorable and delicious meal freshly prepared by what you later learn is a world-renowned chef. Every bite is a delight, crafted so expertly that it melts into delicious nothingness on your tongue—a true culinary thrill. The food is accompanied by Dom Perignon vintage champagne, almost tasting like fruit dancing on your tongue.

Anthony is quiet at the meal. Not in an uncomfortable way, but more letting the culinary experience dictate your exchanges. But all the while, when you catch each other's eye, he shoots you a look of such devotion it almost seems out of character. 

As the plates are cleared away, you realise he looks a little apprehensive, as if he has something to say but feels nervous to do so.

“What is it, my love?” you check. 

Surprise morphs across his handsome features. “You know me far too well,” he huffs, amused and seems to relax a few notches. “There is something I wish to say, but first… let’s dance,”

“But there’s no music?” you giggle.

Anthony nods to someone behind you, and suddenly from speakers hidden amongst the foliage, music pipes up. Within a few notes, you recognise it as the first dance from your wedding; your heart soaring as he pulls you up from your chair.

“Oh, you…” you shake your head affectionately but let him pull you a few paces onto the exotic mosaic tile square at the centre of the courtyard.

You rest your head against his jaw as he draws you into his arms, swaying to the song, his hand warm on your bare back. You tilt up to see the blanket of stars and have to refrain from becoming too overrun with emotion. It’s been the perfect day, a mix of fun and relaxation, quiet and bustle, nature and city, and all the time him. Anthony. Never leaving your side for long and making so many romantic overtures you wish you had written the day down so they do not blend together too much. Just as you are lost, trying to mentally file away all of the experiences, his voice gently cuts into your thoughts.

“I am not a man of poetry,” he begins, almost hesitant, “and such words of flattery would ring hollow in the face of what we now share.” You can tell from his grip on your hand and the one on your back that this feels like an important speech, so you pull away slightly to look at him, meet his eye, and give his jaw a reassuring touch as he continues. “I may not be able to offer the beautiful words you truly deserve, but I hope today has been a good display of my love for you. I assure you, when it comes to actions, I would never want to be demonstrably lacking. I hope today speaks louder than any pretty words could.”

You know your eyes are misty now, even as he relinquishes your hand and reaches into his pocket. You mutter his name, voice loaded with emotion, just as he raises a thin sparkling band held between his thumb and forefinger. You gasp and cling to him, your gaze pinging between his face, soft with emotion, and the beautiful object he holds between your bodies. 

“This is an eternity ring,” he explains sotto voce, spinning it slowly so the jewels catch fire in the lantern light. “It is a never-ending ring of tiny diamonds that symbolise how I feel. That my love for you never ends; it is a continuous circle—for eternity. I didn’t want to wait another day to offer it to you. In the hope you will always wear it, alongside your wedding and engagement rings,” he nods at the other two you wear proudly on your left hand.

“Please put it on me,” you whisper and tremble as he slips the ring until it nestles with the others—a perfect match.

“Thank you, Anthony, my love, my world,” you know your voice quivers as you rock to your tiptoes and push your lips to his. 

He accepts your advance, your chest bursting with fireflies as he lets you deepen the kiss, hands sliding around each other's bodies. This feels like the pinnacle; you can no longer be teased and denied. Your heart and body are aflame, craving him almost painfully. 

“You’ve earned me,” you state fervently over his lips as you break for air.

“I have?” his emotive gasp knocks the wind from you.

You move your lips to the shell of his ear. “I’m on fire for you, Anthony. Please, please don’t deny me anymore.” 

He pants a little as he gusts warm in your ear. “I could never,” it’s a hushed tone; the spike of euphoria in your veins is the best drug in the universe.

“Are we alone?” 

“We can be if I give the signal,” he murmurs back, fingertips trailing your spine again.

“Give it,” you hiss, almost fevered.

After another fervent kiss and a few moments of swaying as the song fades, he confirms it's just the two of you, and the house staff will not return unless called.

“Take off my shoes?” you request, a swell of desire and emotion as he sinks to his knees before you, glancing up with a loaded expression—the flickering light from the surrounding lanterns dancing on his blackened pupils.

You pull up your hem slightly to reveal your shoes, and, using both hands, he eases the dainty buckle until he can peel off the sandal. You grasp his shoulders as you place your bare foot on the cool tile, and he moves to the other shoe. Soon you are barefoot and gazing down at your husband, staring back up at you devotedly. 

Without breaking eye contact, you reach behind your neck and pull the silken bow until the halter relents. The gossamer material instantly slackens and slips down over your body in a diaphanous flutter—the material soon merely a black circle around your feet. 

The noise he makes is primal, so wanton, that you lock your knees to stay upright. You daren't look away from his face; his breathing turns shallow and rapid, drinking in the view of you, utterly naked and standing above him.

“Fuckkkkk.” 

“Take me,” you implore simply, cupping his strong jaw in both hands, enjoying the rasp of stubble against your palms. 

His eyes flash, and his mouth opens a fraction as he runs his hands slowly up the outside of your calves, his gaze never leaving yours. You can't resist running a thumb over those luscious lips. His lips open wider as you pull gently down on his bottom lip, pliant under your touch, his hands gliding up over the outside of your knees and thighs.

When his hands reach your hips, he tugs you down wordlessly, shifting himself backwards until he is lying on the cooling mosaic tile and pulling your body on top of him with a heated look, your knees landing on either side of his shoulders.

“Anthony,” you gasp as he turns his head to the side and sucks on your inner thigh, enticing you lower.

Your stomach is in a knot, pulsing deep inside as he twists back, his breath hot on the soaked slit between your legs. Your thighs are almost trembling as he unfurls his tongue and takes a decadent swipe pushing apart your lips and ending with a flick with the point over your clit. 

The whole day of simmering desire has led to this moment, your head tilting back to see a blanket of stars in the sky above the courtyard, framed by the palm tree fronds. Your right hand gropes blindly until your fingers sink into his luscious chestnut hair… and you let go. Let your inhibitions fly, groan loudly, decadently, uncaring of anything but chasing pleasure, knowing it must be a striking image; you sat utterly naked upon his face as he lays beneath you, still fully clothed.

He utters encouragements into your flesh as he swipes lewdly, sucking hard on your labia, tugging gently to amplify the sensation around your clit before swirling his tongue deep right around that distended nub. He knows your body so well now, so easily able to take you apart with a few deadly moves. And yet it never grows familiar, old or tired, always a little different, keeping you on the edge of anticipation of what he will do next.

The rich cotton of his shirt brushes your inner knees as he shifts slightly under you, hands gliding over your skin to encircle the dip of your waist and pull you lower so you are bearing down your weight upon him, so he can't breathe unless it’s into your body, his nose buried deep in your pubic hair, resting against the bone there, his mouth hot and heavy as he gasps around you, his mouth drinking from you as if its nectar.

You tilt your head back down and tug on his hair, watching his eyes glitter as he growls deep. You moan, feeling the vibration through your public bone as his mouth opens wide against you, his tongue taking broad strokes, seemingly engulfing the whole area with one dab.

The look as he coaxes you to slide on him is breathtaking; you cannot look away from those pupils, shining in the low romantic light, as you rock your hips gently, his tongue swirling deep with each pass. Your left hand slides over his where they hold your waist, lacing your fingers together so your wedding rings clink. This is pure carnality, and you don't want it to end. You want to spend the night entwined with him. The wait he put you through earlier is more than worth the payoff of this moment. 

“All night,” your comment is a breathy ragged exhale, “I want you to make love to me all night,” you say clearly, unashamed to speak the truth of your desire to your husband.

His mouth is too occupied to reply, but you see the flash in his eye that tells you that is precisely his plan. He shifts lower, and you cry out as he spears his tongue into a point and buries it into your pussy, the rough stubble on his cheeks abrading the soft skin of your inner thigh as he wraps his arms tighter. 

You pant his name and tilt fractionally, letting your swollen clit ride his nose as his tongue lashes deep into your channel. You sense little movements in his body and can tell he is unconsciously bucking his hips up off the floor, simulating thrusting into you; you glance down over your shoulder to see a delicious bulge there, and you can't resist but shift angle, releasing your hold on his hair and bowing back slightly over him so you can grab his crotch as you ride his tongue.

You feel the snarl he makes echo up your pussy as you palm the heated mass that strains against his trousers, grasping your fingers in sync with the lashings of his tongue. So desperate for him to be inside you.

He wrenches his face backwards away from your pussy and takes deep wracking breaths, canting his hips so he surges into your grip.

“Stop, darling,” he urges, but the tone suggests the exact opposite.

“No,” you challenge, raising an eyebrow, ”I want to come on your face as I grip your cock.”

He looks dazzled, awestruck even, by your boldness. Something that has blossomed as you grew in confidence under his guidance, him leading you into new realms of pleasure. Teaching you to demand what you want of him.

“As my Viscountess wishes,” he responds silkily, the tone somehow both submissive and authoritative.

His right hand relinquishes its grip on your waist, and you cry out as two fingers plunge into your cunt, his knuckles pushing open your walls as you cling to them, the invasion just perfect to push you higher, an electric slide down your spine as your scalp tingles. Your grip on his other hand at your waist, almost bruising now, his wedding ring leaving a dent in your skin.

Then his tongue is back, harshly swiping your clit, as his other fingers rock deep inside you. You whimper his name, shamelessly grinding on his face, chasing that addictive high as his tongue lashes right over your swollen bud. Concentrating all his efforts there, swirling, teasing, varying pressure, then sucking it between his lush lips, then using a little edge of his teeth to nip at the tip, a new blinding pleasure hits you. 

You are pleading with him not to stop, your voice delirious, drunk on him, on this—the debauched tableau amongst the beauty of twinking palms, white-washed walls and glowing understated opulence.

The filthy sodden noises he wrenches from your body would have made you feel ashamed before. Now you know better; it's like music to his ears, how utterly gushing and aroused he can make you, leaking over his eager face. His fingers hook a little, and he hits that spot that steals the breath from your lungs. You can see the smirk in his eyes as you shudder bodily, your nipples throbbing, wanting his touch, and he knows it. Releasing your waist and snaking that hand up to tweak them, playing your body like a maestro does an instrument.

The heavy elixir of sensation: his fingers buried in your cunt dragging hard, his lips on your clit, his other hand snagging your nipples, his cock rigid and heated under your palm, his eyes goading you, are what push you over the edge. Every muscle in your body clamping tense, taunt and shaking as the fluttering in your channel fans out flames around your body.

You hear muffled sounds as he makes victorious noises, but the world is narrowing to the rush noise in your ears and the burning pulse as you break. Your body weight slumped onto his strong jaw as you cry out and convulse, him drinking from your body. You take wracking breaths as you tip sideways and roll onto the tile next to him, the cool ceramic a salve to your flushed, heated skin.

He instantly rolls against you as you stare at the stars and try to return to reality, even as you feel yourself floating up amongst the heavens. You don't fight his hold as he scoops you up and athletically moves across the courtyard towards your bedroom, you curling into his body, feeling soft and pliant against his muscular frame. 

As he sweeps in, the room is lit with soft flickering pillar candles nestled in little glass dishes filled with sand. Everything looks so beautiful you burrow further into him and look at him devotedly, knowing this is all something he arranged. The beauty and romance are as breathtaking as the mind-bending orgasm he just gave you. And just like that, your desire flares again, an almost metallic taste in your mouth as your blood runs hot. The fierce want to have him making love to you, sensual, lush, needy, his sinful voice pleading your name into your neck as you move together.

“Please, Anthony,” you whisper as he places you on top of the plush white cotton bedding and backs away from the bed as you stare at him, mesmerised by his sinful expression.

He flicks open a shirt button with an arched brow, giving you a show, letting you fully recover in comfort, but making sure your arousal never slips for a second. You know your pupils are blown wide, and you bite your lip, still tingling and swollen dark pink from your orgasm. You greedily drink in his toned torso being revealed, the dusting of thick chest hair so inviting you want to run your fingertips through it and grip it, making him groan. With a flourish that makes you giggle, he throws aside the shirt and holds your gaze smoulderingly as his hand drops to the zip of his fly. You are almost certain he was not wearing underwear when you palmed him earlier, the heat and insistence too great for him to be sporting anything but the thin fabric he now is parting. And you are right. You don't hesitate to moan as his cock springs free, so familiar but every time tantalising, making you clench at the very sight. 

He shucks his trousers down his toned, downy legs, instantly prowling towards you, naked except for that shiny wedding ring you can't take your eyes off. 365 days of bliss. And hopefully, a lifetime more.

Then he climbs over you, tilting you back onto the bed so all you see is his handsome, smiling, stubbled face framed by curled chestnut locks and beyond, teal and gold stars. It's a view you want to be burned into your retinas, a core memory to recall in your twilight years—the love, the passion, the connection.

“Happy anniversary, my love,” he purrs, nuzzling your face with his before kissing you passionately, your arousal musky on his face and tongue. He loves to kiss you like this, so you taste yourself on him, a cocktail of his mouth and the arousal he wrings from your body—a reminder of the passion you share. 

His hand cups your jaw as your tongues lathe together, endless kisses as his hands sweep over your body, grasping behind your knee and pulling your leg up and out wide so he slots between your thighs, his rigid cock sliding over the apex, making you moan into his mouth.

He rocks his cock teasingly, his lips ghosting yours, whispering yeses, and that's it, revelling in your little noises, the sensation against your swollen soaked clit almost too much.

Just as you start to plead with him to stop teasing, he angles lower. “I love you,” his voice deep as he slips inside your waiting, wanton cunt. Stretching you and filling you in that way only he ever can. Your echoed response is a ragged thing as your eyes roll back, and he huffs a bemused noise at your attempted reply.

Your gazes lock as he slides slowly deeper until he is buried entirely in your body, already fluttering around him, the fit so perfect, just the right side of an ache. You hold his face and pull him down for more kisses as he starts to move in slow, deliberate strokes, your whole body rolling with the effort, a gentle wave that already has you floating.

He may not be a man of flamboyant words, but as he said earlier, his actions speak louder than any affirmations ever could. Showing you his devotion, enveloping your body and mind. As his pace increases, he delicately takes your hand and runs his lips over your new sparkling eternity ring, his fathomless umber eyes speaking the words for him. 

Your hands rake down the hair on his chest, loving the soft feel under your fingers, sliding further until you reach his abs, the flex so arousing as he thrusts into your body. You glance down to where your bodies meet, watching his cock disappear into you rhythmically, a tantalising glimpse. Your hands circle his sides, staking his skin to grab his shapely bottom, enticing him to take you harder, towards a crescendo. 

“Not yet,” he chuckles, dropping a quick kiss on your lips.

Instead, he pulls out of your body, you keening loudly at the sudden loss. He sits up, crossing his legs into the lotus position and hauls you into his lap. He guides you down onto him, and a shiver runs up your spine as he wraps your legs around his lower back. Locked together with his cock buried deep, the pace turns slow, your eyes staring, sharing kisses, languid, sensual, elongating the experience into something else. His hands run soothing strokes over your spine as yours hold his biceps, using your core strength to circle your hips, loving the feel of his cock dragging different angles as you rise and fall gently. This is the sort of intimacy that songs are composed about, and you feel so profoundly exhilarated and privileged that you get to experience it with this wonderful man. 

You rock together, limbs entwined, for many more moments, your gaze catching the reflection in the arched mirror on the other side of the room. You cannot see all of you, just the top of Anthony's shoulders and his head of hair and yourself, rising and rocking onto his cock. Even just this little snippet is undeniably arousing, and you turn your head to whisper in his ear that you want him to fuck you in front of a mirror before you leave, want to watch you both come. Following your instinct to tell him your desires.

The noise he emits in response makes every hair on your body stand on end, his hands gripping your hips forcefully. It seems to light a fire in him, suddenly rife with need, the mood changing from languorous to passionate. Your world tilts as he throws you down onto your back, your legs still looped around his back, as he unfurls himself and hovers over you, a wild look in his eye. 

“You want me to fuck you, wife?” he growls, and just as rapidly, you need him to take you somewhere utterly feral, savage, ferocious.

“Yes, oh god, yes, please,” you implore raggedly, your hands back on his bum, digging your nails into his flesh, leaving crescent-shaped indents and scratches on the round of his cheeks.

And so he does. Looping your legs over his forearms now, tilting your pelvis up and more open, he thrust into your body, plugging to the hilt in one stroke that makes your toes curl and your lungs scream his name. It spurs him on, and he starts to pound into you in earnest, his brow dampening with the effort, grunting with each spike. Curling his body down to capture your breast in his hot mouth, making you arch your back and push up against his tongue, his teeth, teeming with desperation for him, wanting him to leave his marks on your skin. 

The sturdy king-sized bed begins to protest with the force of his harsh thrusts. All you can do is cling on, feeling so utterly invaded. The brush of his pubic bone catches enticingly against your clit, still so slippery and throbbing but not quite enough to push you over. 

You insinuate a hand between your bodies to touch your clit, but he grasps your wrist when he realises what you are doing, his pace never wavering.

“That's my job, darling,” he scolds, and then a thumb lands heavily on your clit, flicking in time with each thrust. 

You cry out and wrap your arms around his neck; eyes closed, biting his earlobe as he pants into the crook of your neck. The unrelenting pace and his fingers are too much. He doesn't even have to say another thing, just the feel of him engulfing you, taking you so harshly his cock is like a hot spike piercing you open and that thumb circling your nub, and you are calling his name and fracturing around him. Your heartbeat is pounding loud as fireworks dance behind your eyelids, your cunt clenching so hard you can hear him growling to not ever fucking stop and how he wants to die inside you, fucking you. But it's all through a gauzy filter, as you somehow float out of your body as if among the Moroccan stars but also grounded in your body as you convulse, each cell in your body alive and electric. The sensation seems to roll on forever, notching across your skin, as you feel him still over you, then his hips jerking violently as he comes deep inside you, his mouth slack on your throat.

You take deep racking breaths in sync, the frenzy passing, left with nothing but a bone-deep feeling of satisfaction that makes your inside feel molten and your brain pleasantly fuzzy. Anthony rolls next to you and pulls you into a dewy embrace, both of your bodies covered in a sheen from the exertion. His hands swirl delicate patterns on your skin as you nestle into him, your lips over the slowing hammering of his heartbeat in his jugular. 

“Was it worth the wait, Viscountess?” his voice a deep sonorous tease; you can feel his smile against your sticky forehead.

“Oh god, yes,” you confess elatedly, giggling and wrapping your arms tighter around his ribs, shiting to bury your face into the fuzz of hair on his chest.

He chuckles and strokes your hair, dropping a kiss on your hairline.

“The first of many memorable anniversaries, I promise,” he whispers as you start to drift off, the exhaustion of a thrilling, memorable day catching up with you.

You can’t wait.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau

[devildogdemon]

Bracing myself for committing potential Everlark sacrilege here. Still, I’m curious: Does anyone else ever dabble in the What If/headcanon that Peeta made up his original crush on Katniss? That in the beginning, it really was all just part of his and Haymitch's plan to hype Katniss up, and help boost her favor as the super rare chance for a District 12 Victor? But in the course of the first games, and particularly while committing to the star-crossed lovers act in the cave, he ended up actually falling in love with her?

This was actually my original interpretation the first time I read the first book. That all the rest of the backstory is still true: Mr. Mellark pointing Katniss out, Katniss singing the Valley song, etc. But it was just how Peeta remembered her, not the beginning of years-long pining.

Quick disclaimer: I'm not trying to argue for this headcanon's legitimacy. In fact, I now know it's not true. While writing this post, I remembered that Peeta told Katniss during the Victory Tour he was jealous of Gale before he officially met her. So by his own words, Peeta's crush predates the first Hunger Games.

Still, reading the first book on its own, it’s a headcanon I always come back to, and I think works in its own way sometimes.

For one thing, it’s a bit beyond my suspension of disbelief that Peeta was reaped alongside the girl he was silently obsessed with for 11 years. It feels way more like convenience to me than destiny or anything like that. Not to mention, this is supposedly a crush that began and persisted long before Peeta hit puberty.

But it’s not just the realistic aspect that draws me to this hc. It's also because I love how much it contributes to the 'accidental soulmates' aspect on Everlark. The idea that these two were not meant to fall in love. That if their lives went the way they thought or planned, they never would have spoken. They would have rarely crossed paths, if at all. They would have married different people, if anyone when it came to Katniss, but Gale would be the sole candidate if she did. And they would have lived out their days and died as strangers. But through a series of completely unforeseen, bizarre circumstances in this cruel world that brought them together in the most horrific of ways, from it emerged a real bond between them. Even if it started as a charade for sponsors, it morphed into a real bond of love and care that was genuine, and beautiful, and selfless, and real.

My take is essentially that Peeta took his mother's final words to him about Katniss as bitingly true, not that that made them any less hurtful. And from that point forward, he figured if he was going to do something worthwhile before his inescapable death, it would be to help his District. And the way to do that would be to help the girl who could do that better than he ever could.

Sure, there are things like him keeping hold on Katniss' hand during the chariot ride, and teasingly prodding her for a kiss while she's treating him. But...ok, I hesitate to project onto a boy who was and is leagues above me in every way (feel free to flame me for this). But as a former 16-year old boy myself, who was roughly that age when first reading the story, I kinda figured he just wanted to experience a taste of romance before his inevitable death? Like the PG version of "I don't want to die a virgin."

Anywho, gonna whistle past that embarassing hot take lol. But I think this hc gels well too with all his actions Katniss finds questionable: telling her everyone was watching her during the chariot ride, the crush revelation, teaming up with the careers to throw them off her trail, and fighting Cato. He's doing it all for her to win, even at the expense of himself. Not because he has feelings for her (yet), but because he believes in her.

But it's at the point when Katniss finds him in the mud bank, and she does everything in her power from then on to keep him alive, that maybe his feelings for her take a turn for the real. She shouldn't be trying to keep him alive. It’s of no benefit to her whatsoever. But she refuses to let him die. She will not even discuss it. It makes zero sense to him. No one's ever valued his life this much, even his own family. Why is this girl he barely knows, who never noticed him before, suddenly sparing no expense to keep him alive? To the point of risking her own life for him?

This comes to a head when he tries to rebuke her for going to the feast:

"No! Just don't, Katniss! Don't die for me. You won't be doing me any favors. All right? "Maybe I did it for myself, Peeta, did you ever think of that? Maybe you aren't the only one who...who worries about..what it would be like if..." "If what, Katniss?" "That's exactly the kind of topic Haymitch told me to steer clear of." "Then I'll just have to fill in the blanks myself."

On that last line, I took that as Peeta seeing for the first time that Katniss actually does care about him. More than anyone ever has. That she wants him to live, just as much as she wants them to win. And that's when he truly falls for her. Sadly, he makes the mistake of presuming she feels the same way. That's the only blank he filled in incorrectly.

But did he, though? Because what follows that last line is the first kiss between them that makes Katniss feel "stirring in her chest" and "wanting another." This whole conversation made her want to shut the world out, because "whatever I'm feeling, it's no one's business but mine."

So maybe their feelings for each other kinda awoke at the same time? And deep, deep down, the two of them could sense that shift in emotion toward each other. Where performance became reality. For Peeta, much stronger. But for Katniss, she's not quite there yet.

Now yes, I'm aware Katniss gets Peeta to tell the story of his crush AFTER this happens. But as Katniss points out prior to this, he's the silver-tongued one. Not to mention an established good liar. So keeping with the idea this was when he first noticed her, maybe he blends the facts here a little, and decides to make this the point of where his crush began? He probably had it in the vault anyway since the interview.

Finally, I thought this better explained Peeta's anger at the end, when the mask is finally lifted for him. Because logically, why would he think what started as an established act would become real for Katniss? As Katniss says, they were strangers who'd never spoken before all this. Is it because he still thinks she can't lie? Well she proved him wrong there, if only for a moment. I thought the more likely reason he thought Katniss' feelings for him became real, is because that's exactly what happened to him. As I mentioned before, his presumption wasn't entirely off, and Katniss' words that "not all of it" was for the Games are true enough. But it doesn't make the revelation any less crushing for him.

I really do wonder sometimes what kind of story this would have made for if Suzanne took this approach in the sequels. I know now it's an incorrect headcanon, but I'm curious if anyone else ever shared it while reading the first book, and wonders the same.

If you read all my silly ramblings about a now-debunked headcanon, I am both eternally grateful and eternally sorry. Feel free to share, concur, roast, or do whatever in response. Thank you and may this ship be ever on your dashboard :)

[mykingdomforapen]

spinning silk | writer's commentary

Hello! It has been a long journey but my Link Click fic, spinning silk, has come to a finish. It has been a joy to write and to share with you, and I really hope that you enjoyed the journey. I am so excited for you to read it now in its completion!

I thought it would be fun/interesting to include a writer's commentary about the story, as I've included elements that I'm excited about and would love to talk about the thoughts behind them, the history, foreshadowing, et cetera.

I will try to shy away from explaining too much in case we wanna preserve some level of the Author is Dead skskks . Happy to answer questions on a separate post or DMs though if there is interest! If you are interested in this commentary, please join me! If not, no worries and merrily we roll along.

Spoilers ahead!

The Epigraph

It's easy to miss the epigraph in this story, which is at the beginning of chapter 1 and is very brief. I don't know if anyone here is Chinese-literate, or if you popped it into a Translation app. If you have, you would have realised that the epigraph actually spoils the ending of the story!

A reminder of the epigraph:

君埋泉下泥销骨 我寄人间雪满头。 -Bai Juyi For his friend, Yuan Zhen

Bai Juyi and Yuan Zhen were famous Chinese poets from the Tang Dynasty, and good friends. Bai Juyi would have written this after Yuan Zhen died. The poem's translation is thus:

Your bones are buried under the spring mud; I remain in the mortal world with my hair white as snow.

In the context of this poem, white as snow can indicate someone growing old as they sit at the grave of their friend, therefore their hair turning all white. It can, depending on the translation, indicate someone who sat through the winter until snow layered upon their head , by the time spring comes. Or, in the context of Link Click, Lu Guang's white white hair. Which interpretation should it be? 🙂

Also fun fact I accidentally miscredited the poem for the longest time to Li Bai, another famous Tang Dynasty poet. Oops!

Silk

Ah, this story is built on silk. I think it is fairly famous, the 'red thread of fate' from East Asian/Chinese culture, the concept that you are somehow tied to your soulmate by a long, connecting red thread. I wanted to use the concept of thread as fate, but expand it beyond just about soulmates and relationships. That was the motivation behind depending on silk imagery for Liu Xiao's plan, to play on a well-established concept in Chinese mythology and add my own twist to it. Especially since Liu Xiao was the one in S2 to make the comparison, of people having a thousand parallel fates/threads.

As I was musing on an idea for this fic, that was when I happened to visit an exhibit that included the life cycle of a silk worm. My mother then told me how when she was little, she used to raise silk worms as pets. That got me to muse on the process of making silk--how you have to boil the cocoon and then unravel it slowly until it is a single, long thread. You have to be so careful with it because if it breaks it's kind of pointless, and how magnificent it is that such a cocoon could be so uninterrupted, singular, continuous.

Which brings me to the climax with Lu Guang, when he is trapped in a literal and figurative cocoon of silk. So as Liu Xiao had said (or at least, I think he said it...I forget lol)--when you make silk by boiling the cocoons, you kill the silkworm inside. Silkworms leave the cocoons by chewing a hole through it, which essentially renders the silk unusable because it's all chewed and broken, but now the silkworm is a moth and flies free. The thread of silk, the cocoon, must be ripped and ruined, only then can a silkworm emerge with wings, transformed. Only then can it live.

(Fun fact: one of the first things I knew I wanted from this story was the scene of Cheng Xiaoshi using his threads of fate to sew up all the ripped seams of time. That was, in many ways, the impetus of this story's idea--the image of him so selflessly giving up his own future and life to the act of something as gentle as mending)

Wen Xi

I loved writing chapter 2, honestly. Not only because I get to write about a dive, which is the charm and heart of Link Click, and not only because I get to write about my culture and province (Cantonese represent!) but also because in my eyes, the Wen Xi dive functions similarly to how I interpret the earthquake arc functions for canon.

There was a moment where I almost had a scene where CXS actually interacted with Wen Xi in person. He would have run into her at one point, and of course he can't act like he knows her because she doesn't realize he was the one who did the job for him, but he would have had a moment with her. She was sitting on the curb, struggling with some of the mangosteens she bought. He remembers how she doesn't like getting her hands sticky and wet and how Song Liming used to open them for her when they were kids, so he would have asked her if she needed help and gave her that little bit of kindness. This was ultimately scarpered so that he and Qiao Ling could have that more plot-driven moment of worrying over Lu Guang.

Other Deleted Scenes/changed scenes

Not so much a scene as it is a theme that I wish I could have expounded on more but ultimately couldn't figure it out. Which is to say, I wish I could have played around with Liu Xiao more. Liu Xiao, Lu Guang, and Li Tianchen are the trio who are manipulating fate and the future. They are also three characters who are, in their own way and for their own reasons, trying to use the control of time to answer for a painful trauma that they cannot bear to face full-on. For Liu Xiao, that flashback scene of Liu Min would have played a bigger role in the story. I wish I could have completed this, but at the same time, in my head in order for him to confront it is to own up to it, and find healing from it. He did not want to do that in the playground of my imagination. So I left him be.

Actually, Liu Xiao was supposed to be a little more villainous in this story! He would have been a bit more purposeful about Cheng Xiaoshi, knowing that CXS' abilities are causing the 'knot' in the silk and then intending for CXS to die alone/far from Lu Guang so that Lu Guang would not repeat the cycle. Ultimately I preferred Liu Xiao to be a bit more morally gray. He struck me as someone who didn't have a personal grudge against CXS at the end of the day. All he wants is his own peace of mind.

There was also going to be a moment, although I ended up scrapping it early on, where the photograph of Cheng Xiaoshi and his mother would have played a bit more of a role in the story. There would have been a moment where, upon discovering what Lu Guang was doing with the silks and realizing how much damage it was causing not only to him but to the world, Cheng Xiaoshi would have felt like he was the cause of all of Lu Guang's misery and now also the misery of the concept of time and space, since Lu Guang was essentially destroying the world because of him. In a moment of being in a pretty terrible head space, Cheng Xiaoshi would have half considered diving back into that photo as his mom and straight up Terminator his childhood self to save everyone the trouble. Qiao Ling would have strongly talked him out of it. Ultimately I felt that was, well, a bit dark, and not really fitting to the rest of the story.

Speaking of the photograph's purpose, the opening scene used to be a wee bit different, where Cheng Xiaoshi would actually give Qiao Ling the photo of his mother and ask her to hide it from him. He would never explain why, but Qiao Ling would have a guess as to what the reason was. I changed it because I wanted the story to have a bookend. It begins with Qiao Ling holding Cheng Xiaoshi as he slept to keep him warm. As does it ends.

Culture(???)

I'll be honest, I'm borne of expats, so I'm not the one to break down the traditions and culture of the characters. At the same time, I definitely was raised in Chinese culture and spent formative periods of my life in China, so there are a lot of things I take for granted and not think to explain when in fact it is not actually a universal experience.

But anyway! This is a section to explain my caveat. I am Cantonese. Link Click very likely takes place in a northern city. China's food culture is EXTREMELY diverse, so the food that I have eaten in China, because I spend all my time in a specific province, is probably food that Cheng Xiaoshi, Lu Guang, and Qiao Ling seldomly eat! But I couldn't help myself, so I wrote about my favorite foods. Because I write fic for ME.

That also goes for the daily living aspect as well. For all I know, Cantonese doctor visits, city walking, food delivery, groceries, etc. are the same as Northerners. For all I know, it could be wildly different! I have no idea. I do reckon though that our trio live in a quieter, smaller city than what I'm used to. I mean, look at their neighborhood.

Not regarding shanghuo, though. Shanghuo is everywhere in China.

Anyway, a quick rundown of things:

black sesame porridge: A very Cantonese sweet porridge. Technically considered dessert, but also lauded to be full of nutrition. Technically considered 'soup' but I write fic for me.

Also, black sesame soymilk. Soymilk is great.

Sun Wukong- LG compares himself, or wished to compare himself, to Sun Wukong escorting Tang Sanzang to the west. This is in reference to our beloved Monkey King in The Journey to the West! He is an iconic literary figure dating back to idk I think the 1400s or something and his story is quite long and mythical but long story short his mission was to escort a monk westward, towards South Asia, to collect some important scripts. He had to protect Tan Sanzang from all sorts of demons and devils along the way.

Pixiu- Lu Guang makes a passing comment in his point of view about putting a Pixiu at his doorstep and hoping it pays off Cheng Xiaoshi's debt. Pixiu is a little guy (arguably dragon, probably not) that likes to gobble up gold. If you put a little Pixiu statue in your area, the idea is that he will bring wealth to you. He's got a whole story about him where he ate up all the gold of the heavenly palace and the Jade Empress was so mad she sewed up his butthole so he would have eternal constipation, or something like that. Don't correct me if that's wrong because that's how the story was told to me and I delight in it LOL. I love him. He's my favorite idiot.

Clay pot rice -Also a very Cantonese dish. Frankly, the rest of China is missing out if it is only contained in the Canton province. Rice that is cooked with meats in a clay pot which makes the rice v ery aromatic and deliciously crispy around the sides. Qiao Ling was NOT going to take that out for takeout, that girl was 100% just gonna treat herself in a restaurant and CXS was gonna have to deal with scraps and leftovers.

Zhinü- I'm realizing that Lu Guang makes a lot of references in his internal monologue LOL. This is in reference to the Weaver Girl and Cowherd folktale, one of China's Four Great Folktales (which include Lady Meng Jiang, Legend of White Snake which is my personal favorite, and the Butterfly Lovers). It's a very classic Chinese story about a celestial weaver girl, Zhinü, who is the daughter of I think the Jade Emperor who is like the heavenly king of gods, and her lover the mortal cowherd. Long story short, her father was unhappy that she fell in love with a mortal and so separated her from her husband and children with the Milky Way. One day a year, the birds take pity on the lovers and form a bridge across the galaxy so that they can reunite. Between her and Lu Guang's weaving--or rather, spinning silk--I couldn't pass up the opportunity to make a reference.

yangmei wine - Liu Xiao is drinking some Yangmei wine. Yangmei is a type of fruit in China and I am pretty sure I actually made him drink a different wine than what I'm imagining. What I intended for him to drink is a wine that is made of a particular fruit that isn't strictly speaking edible, or at least not eaten for enjoyment. It's usually always only used for making wine, and you let the little plums (so t ospeak) soak in the alcohol until it is a bright red. Very sweet. Very strong.

Sanmao- At one point Lu Guang compares Cheng Xiaoshi to Sanmao because Cheng Xiaoshi had a small sliver of hope for his parents snatched right from underneath his nose. Sanmao is an iconic Chinese character from a long-running comic that began in the 1930s. He is a poor orphan boy during the era before and during WWII, who is just trying to survive extreme poverty. He is often mistreated by passerbys and is very lonely, often looking longingly at other kids who have food to eat and have parents. Every time someone treats him with kindness and he has just a little bit of hope that he can have a family or some good fortune, some awful circumstance happens, usually tied to tense socioeconomic injustice or war.

One of the less traumatic panels of the comic lol:

Jiuzhaigou- Cheng Xiaoshi mentions wishing that he could go there one day, and then at the end Qiao Ling and Lu Guang say that they will go together. Jiuzhaigou is in the Sichuan province, it is a nature realm that is very beautiful. There are natural deposits that make the lakes ultramarine blue and crystal clear. It's so beautiful! A photographer's dream.

Tangyuan- sweet and sticky rice dumplings that can be filled with sweet filling such as peanuts, black sesame paste, sweet egg, or more! They are often eaten during holidays, both during Winter Solstice and the 15th day after Lunar New Year. Indeed they are symbolizing family togetherness, although less because of stickiness and more because of a pun in their name. But maybe stickiness has something to do with it? Winter Solstice foods in different regions of China are also somewhat sticky, even if they don't typically eat tangyuan. I just know what I'm told lol.

Doraemon-A popular Japanese manga/anime from the 50s or 60s that is immensely beloved by the Chinese to this day. He is a robotic cat from the future with a fourth dimensional pocket full of futuristic gadgets that he uses to help Nobita, a fourth grader in the 50s, with his every day problems. He's wonderful. Also, he has a time machine which is tucked in Nobita's homework desk. Fitting....

Yixiu- Another popular Japanese anime, I believe from the 80s, that was also quite popular in China. It's about Ikkyu-san, a little monk/prince whose profound wisdom solved all sorts of grown-up's shenanigans.

Jiejie- A reader had asked the significance of Cheng Xiaoshi calling Qiao Ling this in the penultimate so I figured I'd bring it up here as well. 'Jie' is an indicator of older sister, or a bit of a respectful but also affectionate term for a young woman. Just like how Lu Guang calls Qiao Ling 'Qiao Ling jie' in the show. When he does it, it's friendly but also not actually meaning that he sees her as a sister sister because it's attached to her whole name. Cheng Xiaoshi in this story, not necessarily canon, refers to her as Ling jie every now and then. To me, this is him hearkening to childhood terms, as that is what his parents would refer to her as when he was growing up.

Take this with a grain of salt because I am a diaspora and not originally from the culture. Qiao Ling referring to Cheng Xiaoshi as 'didi' (little brother) in the show, and in the end Cheng Xiaoshi calling Qiao Ling 'jiejie' (big sister) in this fic are not rare, so to speak, or inappropriate, but you don't typically refer to someone who isn't related to you as your 'didi' or 'jiejie' unless they are blood related to you. You can call your sibling this, or your cousins this, but uuuuusually not someone who is like a sibling to you--singularly, yes, like Ling jie, but not typically Jiejie. Them calling each other this means that they truly see each other as their sibling. Also, those terms are a little bit childlike, so to speak. There are more 'grown-up' ways to refer to your little brother or big sister. In Cheng Xiaoshi's case, someone his age will probably refer to a sister as 'a jie' or 'jia jie'--at least, in Cantonese this is the case. 'Jiejie' is a little kid's way of calling their sibling. Like, up until I was about 7 years old I would have referred to my sister this way. To call someone 'jiejie' now, particularly to their face, I feel is a very vulnerable address. It's like if you as an adult who usually calls their mother 'Mom', in a time of deep distress or sadness and in need of comfort, revert to calling her 'mama' or 'mommy'. Like, you're both probably in tears to get to this point. At least, that is my experience with addresses, and therefore Cheng Xiaoshi's lol. Any fellow sinos out there can correct me but that was my intention for that part of the story. Cheng Xiaoshi is vulnerable, and he is seeking comfort from his big sister.

Mama's nursery rhyme- The story of the little rabbits and their Mama Rabbit is a very well known children's story in China. The story wasrecounted as close to memory as I can, so the only other thing I can say about it is that this is how the song goes.

Well, that's all I can think of right now! If there are any questions or you're curious about something, feel free to send me a message! Otherwise, I hope I didn't resuscitate the author too much.

[astercontrol]

so I was brainstorming what sorts of creativeness I could try for next year's Mission Day, if I wanted to try and help reclaim that for the fans

which is me being SUPER overzealous, because I only just found out about the existence of Mission Day yesterday

lol who am I to even get involved in this

(BUT who am I to do anything... and yet I still do.)

... For those who are just a few days more behind-the-times than me:

apparently, back in 2016, there was a line in a TRON game which said that May 14 was "Mission Day." Some fans got excited that maybe something cool was gonna happen that day

akin to the Flynn Lives ARG starting in 2009 where fans were led on a whole fun adventure, following clues through a network of webpages (seriously, if you don't know about THAT, take a look)

but no, this time it turned out nothing happened, and people were disappointed.

and when I heard about that, my own rebellious side went:

Who wants to do this with me?? Like a fanzine but more... interactive, multimedia

Maybe it'll take a year, or more, but, like... what if some May 14 you start seeing fanfics posted on AO3 with mysterious clues in them, leading to a webring of Neocities sites all mysteriously connected in their own cryptic ways

Fanlore, fan-made stories, drawings, maybe even animations and games. Fan OCs getting their own place in all of it

Not beholden to whatever f'd up version of the Hays Code the mouse is currently following. So there'll be all sorts of LGBT stuff, all colors of the rainbow and all colors of circuits....

aaaand THEN

then my brainstorms got tornado-strength and I came back to reality some unknown time later with a mess of crazy plans just for the STORIES that could start this scavenger hunt

(the websites are breeding their own plotbunnies and I will face that later)

(I am still not even slightly convinced that I will have the time or energy for ANY of this)

BUT... there is a whole year til next May 14

so....

just a whole disorganized pile of ideas, starting here

Multiverse

Hypothesis: the spiritual energy that makes programs alive is something that functions on many planes of existence, and can connect different realities.

Someone finds out a way to tap into this with the laser technology, enabling travel between different Tron worlds and different alternate timelines.

(Maybe the "miracle" of ISO DNA somehow ends up being relevant to this? Alan quoted Flynn saying this was supposed to revolutionize everything; he even mentioned quantum teleportation? seems like a powerful mcguffin that never got used, might as well use it)

Some Tron AUs that may connect here:

Post-MCP scenario where the originals of the programs that were copied for the Legacy Grid go on living happily in the ENCOM system (my main headcanon that I write in)

Other scenarios where the programs brought to the Grid were eliminated from the ENCOM system and there's no original left behind

Variations on 82, Legacy and Uprising:

Different interpretations of how digitization works, how consciousness forms within the system, etc.

Post-Legacy extrapolations of Tron's future on Flynn's Grid

Tronzler restored by Alan and Sam;

Tronzler regenerated as an ISO by the Sea of Simulation;

Tronzler regenerated into an eldritch horror by the Sea of Simulation;

Tronzler dead;

Tronzler emerging from the sea still broken and half-rectified

etc

Other post-Legacy possibilities

Clu survived in some form after the reintegration;

Flynn survived in some form after the reintegration;

Clu and Flynn both survived in some form after the reintegration;

Clu and Flynn are one merged entity after the reintegration;

Clu and Flynn are dead;

Sam comes back again;

Sam comes back and brings Alan and Lora and Roy;

Sam never comes back and someone else has to try and make things work;

Yori and Ram are still there;

Yori and Ram are not there because they were never brought;

Yori and Ram are not there because they were killed;

Yori and Ram are still there but different because they were rectified;

Zuse survived;

Zuse survived and he turns out to be an amalgamation of an interpreter program hacked and taken over by Ram and he has an epic bitch session with Tronzler about their various struggles, betrayals, split personalities and changes of identity

ETC.

Various post-Uprising and pre-Legacy possibilities:

Beck and Paige eventually join forces and/or fall in love;

Beck and Paige eventually kill each other;

Mara and Zed find out who the Renegade is;

Mara and Zed die or get rectified before they can ever find out who the Renegade is;

Tron becomes Rinzler because he is later caught and rectified while Beck is forced to watch;

Tron becomes Rinzler because the rectification process in the last episode managed to infect him before he was saved and he ends up suddenly turning bad at the worst possible time for Beck;

Beck becomes Rinzler instead of Tron;

Dyson somehow comes back;

the Uprising team meets Zuse,

etc

Various non-canon-compliant AUs in all these settings

Ram didn't die in 82;

Ram did die and so did Flynn and then Tron defeated the MCP on his own;

Tron tried to defeat the MCP on his own but failed and MCP was never beaten;

MCP was beaten but Flynn died in there and died in real life;

Flynn survived and got out and tried to build the Grid but Alan and Lora managed to stop him from ruining his life by trying to do that alone;

Alan went into the Grid in Legacy instead of Sam;

Tron never becomes Rinzler;

Flynn or Ram becomes Rinzler instead of Tron;

someone else becomes the tyrant instead of Clu;

Able didn't die

etc, etc.

....anyway

imagining a scenario where various versions of characters from all these timelines connect via the Laser (Head)Cannon

(terrible working name, but it amuses my terrible sense of humor, so there)

....gonna re-read Ram: Expanded by kesomon because there's a fic in there (Interlude- Reprieve) about a similar connected multiverse

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25366543

there are many stories one could tell within this.

But I think I want to tell one with the theme of rebellion, throwing off oppression, expressing freedom and autonomy

...

example for one storyline within it:

the "In Ram Jurisdiction" plotbunny

After Ram is recovered and comes back to life in the Encom system, his original insurance company calls for his destruction.

they have their own backup and don't need the Encom copy returned, they just demand that Encom delete theirs.

because he was stolen from them by MCP

even though Roy wrote him at Encom, they bought exclusive rights to his code so they own him.

Ram and Roy and their friends launch a legal battle.

maybe upgrading Ram in the process so he can be considered a protected derivative work under Fair Use

...

also could take some inspiration from the brilliant fanfic "Anthem," a reprise of the story of TRON 1982 for the world of DRM and musical copyright

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28223541

…because

...this theme of seeking freedom comes up in every iteration of Tron

and the feeling behind this whole over-ambitious idea here… is a celebration of the vast diversity of fan-created content

an overarching theme of wanting to claim this world for the fans-- a theme of the copyright-holding corporation as Oppressor

Fan Mission Day Fission Day

(day of splitting, separation, becoming independent)

TRONdependence Day

[compacflt]

Fully support your desire to cut down on the extras as they're already so long, but as someone who was also looking forward to the sickfic section and is sad to hear it's been taken out, I will simply have to ask you about it instead! First off the discussion of home in the snippet you shared was delicious - when do you think Mav started thinking of the house as 'their' home? And Ice taking Mav to the hospital has a lot of crunch there around how they're seen and how they act in public, especially if Ice was worried and Mav was kind of out of it. Do you think Ice would have taken Mav in to the hospital if he'd really been spiking a fever and decided he needed it? How would he explain themselves? And I suppose a separate, related question: who are their official next of kin/emergency contacts?

the reason i got rid of the sickfic is cause all those questions were answered better elsewhere in the extras ❤️

i was kind of annoyed that the house inconsistently appears to be the property of whomever the plot calls for at the moment -> another reason to cut the sickfic

Yes Ice would take mav to the hospital. it happens elsewhere LOL, maverick is extremely incident-prone

obviously a fun surfing injury with friends != the sickfic’s ice taking “a friend” to the hospital in the middle of the night for dangerous levels of illness-related dehydration… implies familiarity, intimacy above everyone else… the hospital staff would probably assume they’re together, yes, & i don’t think ice would challenge that at all, especially if he had to make sure all the paperwork was filled out right. just not worth the effort. “is there anyone else we should call for mr mitchell?” / “Um no. Just me.” Yeah i took him to the hospital at 4am bc i love him and im worried about him what r u gonna do about it 🤨 violate his hipaa rights? It’s 2009 gay people exist grow up🙄 hospital staff isn’t gonna tell anyone, so who cares

(Luckily for ice in the sickfic he didn’t have to take mav to the hospital)

the point of the sickfic was to establish a precedent for one of them voluntarily taking care of the other who is unable to take care of himself, to set up the parallel of maverick taking care of Ice when he Really gets capital-s Sick. but then i still can’t bring myself to write ice actually being capital-s Sick because i have some weird neurosis where i simply dislike thinking about ice (powerful guy) being helpless or incapacitated or, um, dead. so the mav-sickfic isn’t really relevant anymore because i haven’t written (and never plan on writing, besides that one half-assed one-shot) the corollary ice-sickfic. so the sickfic became the Nixed-fic ❌

And according to this wip wednesday snippet, they are each other’s emergency contacts. don’t ask me how that works or how they figured that out, idk. some stuff you do have to talk about for logistics purposes i guess. which is kind of the point of all the house-related/money-related discussions I’ve written throughout my fics—they Have to talk about the logistics because that’s real life. But they don’t INTERPRET those logistics or assign them a normative value.

for instance debriefing presents (maverick’s) death & taxes as the only two things that ever get them to actually talk to each other lol. logistics become a vessel through which they can talk about their situation without actually talking about it. The state of being each others emergency contacts might be a death-and-taxes discussion—acknowledging permanence without acknowledging permanence

[leeyanyanyaaan]

a curtain away - han jisung

-archival-

an incomplete hospital fic i found in my notes from last year when i was admitted to the hospital lol XD can be read as romantic or platonic. lighthearted/fluffy, altho bittersweet at the end but no angst. no warnings except for the fact that this is a hospital-centered fic so there's gonna be a lot of mention of sicknesses and stuff lol. and also rushed/incomplete ending oof honestly if someone wants to yoink this idea and make it better then by all means feel free to XD

"a curtain away"

han jisung x reader

platonic/romantic/friends to lovers - reader's interpretation

fluff, crack, sickfic, hospitalfic, bittersweet ending?

warning: hospital jargon, mentions of asthma (both reader and jisung are asthmatic), pneumonia, and other sicknesses, but no deaths or anything graphic/severe.

first person pov

"great. here i am again." i thought to myself as the nurse led me into a single room in the emergency department. 

though it was nothing compared to the asthma attacks i had as a child, it was still rather painful to breath with the intense tightening in my chest paired with this high fever i have, so here i was. 

to be honest, i didn't think it was bad enough to be sent to the hospital for, but being an asthmatic, i understood my parents worries.

i wanted to go home soon though...

after the nurses' many testings and medications, in the end, they admitted me to an overnight stay in the ED. then they extended my stay for another day, moving me to the assessment and diagnostic unit. well, at least it wasn't a ward. 

in fact, this is where i met han jisung.

the room i was moved into was a four unit room, two of which already being occupied, with one being ready to moved into a ward, as i heard on the way in. after setting everything up, the nurses left me be to rest.

second person pov

you never planned on poking my nose into the other patients' businesses, no one does really, but hearing a loud crash from beside you raised a lot of concern, i mean what if someone was hurt?! 

it didn't take long for you to debate with yourself before coming to a decision. slipping on your shoes and putting on a medical mask just in case, you get off your bed and step out from your curtains, now standing in front of another. you inhale nervously before opening the curtains of your roommate.

on the other side of the messy, unoccupied bed, was a boy on the floor, who seemed to be around your age, rubbing his backside in pain. he fell...

"uhm... are you okay?" you ask meekly. realizing that someone was in his space, his eyes widen and turn to you, frantic.

"dude! you'll get in trouble if they see you in here and not in bed!" 

"i-i know! but how could i not be worried when i just heard a huge crash?!"

then the boy turned away, face now flushed with red. oh no, was he having a fever this whole time? or-

"...i fell trying to get out of bed to the toilet..."

you look at the toilet in front of him. so that's what it was... you look back at the boy who was yet to get off the floor.

"are you okay though? you seem to be in a lot of pain..." 

"i-i'll be fine... i'll get up... soon..." was his weak response.

you briefly glance at the unlit "call" button above his bed. there you also saw his name.

'jisung han...'

you wanted to help the poor guy up off the floor, but like he said, you'd probably get in trouble for being in another patient's space. 

"i think you should call your nurse just in case."

you see jisung's hand peak out and silently press the green button next to his bed, which you chuckle quietly at. 

"alright, i'll leave you alone now neighbor. but if no one comes in five minutes i'm going out there to ask for a nurse."

thankfully one came in at four minutes and 30 seconds (you we're checking your phone, ready to go out there and cause a fuss /hj).

after everything was sorted out, you wanted to see how the jisung guy was doing. but you didn't want to risk anything more by entering his space again, and talking/shouting between each other from your beds felt kinda silly. then you got an idea... though yes, it did require a bit of shouting lol

"hey neighbour?" he hums in response; you've gotten his attention! "by any chance do you have discord?"

"i do, why?"

"wanna be friends and chat there?"

he chuckles at your straightforwardness, but agrees nonetheless. after verbally exchanging discord ids, you moved your conversation to dms.

HANJI

This is the beginning of your direct message history with @/hanji.

----- Jul 10, 2015 -----

[Y/U/N] Today at 12:06 PM

(you send the wumpus wave sticker)

hi :D

hanji  Today at 12:06 PM

hiii :)

[Y/U/N] Today at 12:07 PM

lol u have a cute usrname XD

fits very nicely w ur name hehe

hanji  Today at 12:07 PM

oh? how do u know my name 🤨 should i be concerned 🤨

[Y/U/N] Today at 12:07 PM

your name's written above your bed on the whiteboard dummy.

hanji  Today at 12:08 PM

oh

you couldn't help but burst into laughter at his response. you heard jisung shout a begrudging "hey" at you, but your contagious (not a nice word for a hospital setting lol XD) joy has reached him too as he laughed along in the end.

hanji  Today at 12:09 PM

hey, but if you know my name, then i think you should let me know yours too!!!

[Y/U/N] Today at 12:09 PM

hmmmm 🤔 lets see...

maybe u should wait for the nurse to come in so u can hear her say it 🥰

hanji  Today at 12:10 PM

heyyyy noooo dont leave me like this 😩😩😩

[Y/U/N] Today at 12:10 PM

ahaha i was just joking XD

my name is (y/n) (l/n)!

nice to meet you 😊

hanji  Today at 12:10 PM

sweet, nice to meet you too (y/n) :)

actually, i think im registered here w my korean name, but u can call me by my english name if u want to

which is peter

[Y/U/N] Today at 12:11 PM

mmmm i think id like to call u by ur korean name instead

or even ur discord usr

its cute ;)

hanji  Today at 12:11 PM

awh, you think im cute? 🥺

[Y/U/N] Today at 12:11 PM

i said ur usrname but yknow what maybe i should take that back 🙄

(you lied, you did think he's cute)

hanji  Today at 12:12 PM

WHAT

NO

DONT I WAS JUST KIDDING AJSBSKSNS

[Y/U/N] Today at 12:12 PM

AHAHAHAJDBKA

anyways

whats your story? how did you get here?

so jisung told his story. he's an asthmatic like you, and unfortunately he just went through an asthma attack the night before. luckily, he responded to treatment well and wasn't needed to be brought into the intensive care unit. you sighed in relief for him, glad he was fairing well. then he asked about you. you told him everything from when you got admitted to the hospital, about how you have a bacterial infection, but was also diagnosed with pneumonia, which is a no-no especially for asthmatics. 

[Y/U/N] Today at 12:20 PM

so since being admitted here theyve been giving me antibiotics thru the iv line to help w the infection and probably avoid it from getting as more serious

ngl theyre also probably keeping me here bc of my asthma aksnamnsms

hanji  Today at 12:21 PM

man

us asthmatics gotta stick together 😔✊

[Y/U/N] Today at 12:21 PM

indeed *holds up blue inhaler* 😔✊

after hearing each other's stories, you two move on to more lighthearted topics: your interests, hobbies, music, school; being the same age, it was pretty easy for you two to get along well. despite chatting online, you would react as if he was physically talking to you, and he'd do the same, filling your hospital room with joyous sounds of laughter. it'd even amuse the nurses who come to do their regular check up on you and him when they heard that you were having a nice time with the other patient (though they'd occassionally tease you, asking if you were in a romantic relationship with him, or that it was fate (the latter made your heart race oop))

your mom came to visit you in the middle of the day too, so you had to put your phone down to have some bonding time with her. with her being a nurse, you laughed at the image of her pretty much acting like one with all her nurse-like questions, receiving a playful slap from her. she brought you some spare clothes, toiletries, your tablet and charger (though no earphones) as well as some snacks for you to eat in case you got sick of the hospital food. 

'ooh chips! i'll try share some with hanji!' was your first thought when you looked through your bag. then you blushed realizing what your first thought was. god you could not be this down bad for the hospital boy already, you just met him three hours ago! 

although you tried to hide it, your mom instantly spotted your reddening face. you saw her see it. you try to act normal, but there was no way you could fool your mom. 

"you know dear, on my way in, one of the nurses told me you're on good terms with your room neighbor. you two aren't up to anything are you?"

"mom! he's right there! he can hear you!"

"ahaha i'm just joking, dear! gosh your face got even redder, must i call the nurse to check your temperature?"

you, who now has your face burried into your hands to hide from your mom's teasing, shouted a muffled "no!" only to her amusement. after your mom's laughter died down, she checks her watch.

"oh dear, it looks like i'll have to leave now. rest well, love, and get better soon."

"alright, safe travels mom. and thanks for the stuff!"

your mom sends you a flying kiss on her way out of your space and you play along and catch it, putting it on your cheek with a grin. your mom smiles, giving you one last loving look, before closing the curtains and walking out. you sigh, already missing your mom, but your thoughts are cut short as a nurse comes in not long after with your dinner. yay! hospital food!

"here's your dinner for tonight: chicken and rice, with strawberry jelly and vanilla ice cream. enjoy your meal!"

you take off the lid of your plate and immediately squint at the portion of rice in comparison to all the microwaved vegetables. this is a crime! but then again, what can you ask from hospital food? you wouldn't even be surprised if the ice cream was already melted (spoiler alert: it was)

you shrug and start eating, turning on your tablet to watch (choice of anime) while you eat (i watched hunter x hunter!). not long after, you receive a ping from jisung. you almost forgot about him oops /j

hanji  Today at 6:16 PM

bruh i can hear anime playing from ur side r u watching (anime)? 🤨

[Y/U/N] Today at 6:16 PM

help i forgot u existed

hanji  Today at 6:16 PM

HEY!!!

that hurt my kokoro 🥲💔

[Y/U/N] Today at 6:17 PM

AHAHHAJSNAKSN IM JOKING IM SORRY 😭😭

also yeah im watching (anime)

im surprised u figured out

hanji  Today at 6:17 PM

how could i not

the opening is blasting through this room

[Y/U/N] Today at 6:17 PM

IS NOT

its less than half volume ok

u just live next to me thats why

...also my mom didnt bring any earphones so i have no choice &lt;/3 

hanji  Today at 6:18 PM

ok fair enough

cant complain anyway, (anime) has the best ops 😤

what did u get for dinner?

[Y/U/N] Today at 6:18 PM

chicken with an illegally small proportion of rice

pretty sure we all get the same thing tho

and just like that, the two of you carried on your long discord chats, your silly laughters filling the room once again (in addition to your anime playing in the background). for once, you actually enjoyed your hospital stay over the past multiple times you've been admitted. for once, you were ironically glad to be here, meeting him.

time flew by and it was already midnight. your nurse just finished the regular routine of checkup and replenishing your antibiotics. after making sure she left, you pulled out your phone and texted your neighbor.

----- Jul 11, 2015 -----

[Y/U/N] Today at 12:02 AM

pssst

hanji

han jisung

peter han

are you awake

hanji  Today at 12:02 PM

yeah

why?

[Y/U/N] Today at 12:02 AM

ur nurse alrdy came in to check on u right

hanji  Today at 12:02 AM

yeah?

[Y/U/N] Today at 12:03 AM

then...

is it okay if i come over to your side a bit?

please 🥺

wait no why did you send a text like that. you silently kicked yourself. stupid, what if he thinks you're a weirdo now! why'd you have to word it like that???

unbeknownst to you, the boy next door was flustering silently, his blushing face hidden in the dark.

[Y/U/N] Today at 12:04 AM

SORRY 

I TOTALLY WEIRDED THAT WRONG

*WORDED

AJSNAMSNMS

i just... i actually was just hoping we could take a photo together...?

neither of us know when we'll be discharged or moved out of the room right?

i was just hoping we could take a photo while were both still here

AJSBAMBSMS BUT ITS OK IF U DONT WANNA

hanji  Today at 12:05 AM

NO NO ITS FINE, I LIKE THAT IDEA

really!

so yes pls come over, i'd like to take a photo w u too :D

you'd better send them to me too 😤

you huff a silent sigh of relief, glad that he interrupted you before you rambled any longer. you shuffle out of your bed quietly, slipping on your shoes, before making your way to his side, your phone tight in your grip. inhaling nervously, you pull the curtains to the side. (de ja vu much? hehe)

if you hadn't already fallen for this boy, you sure were falling hard now. underneath the small hospital light sat jisung in his bed. he was smiling warmly at you, welcoming with chubby cheeks puffed out a bit, as his eyes twinkled with delight. you didn't notice at first, since he was mostly scrambled on the floor when you first met him, but jisung is... actually quite handsome. attractively cute. you really had to stop yourself from blushing so much so you didn't make yourself more of a fool than you already are lol.

on the other hand, this was jisung's first time properly seeing you. despite your slightly sickly complexion and just being dressed in a hospital gown, he still think you looked sweet and bubbly, just as cheerful as you were in text. that was enough to take the boy's heart. your uncharacteristic shyness made you look even cuter, he thinks to himself.

since his food table was on his right side, jisung scooches to give you room to sit on his left. you scurry over and lift yourself onto the bed next to him. you couldn't help but blush at your guys close proximity.

"s-so... ready?"

jisung grins, taking your phone off of you to take the photo for you, since your arms were shorter </3 

"ready! now three, two, one...!"

snap!

jisung hands you back your phone, and the two of you smile at your cute selfie. even if you two were in hospital gowns in a hospital bed in a hospital room; it's a reminder of how you two met.

"hey, send it to me too okay?"

"definitely!" 

and so you return back to your side of the room with a silly grin on your face, happy with the photo you two took. you send the photo to jisung just as requested and turn in for the night, the happy smile never left as you drift off to sleep.

it was three am when you woke up to the nurses doing their regular routine. only you were puzzled at the sight of more than one nurse. was something going on.

"hey (y/n), sorry to disturb your sleep. i'm hana, your nurse for tonight, and we'll be moving you to a single room in the ADU after this alright? we'll be needing to clear this room out for the new patients that are coming in."

"oh... okay..." was all you can say, still dazed from being half asleep, though truthfully, you were already getting sad at the thought of being away from jisung. everything went by so fast, you were already being rolled out of the room. just before you were out, you caught a glimpse of a confused jisung peaking from his curtains, eyes questioning your departure. you could only give him a small wave and a sad smile before you were out into the hallways.

it wasn't even a long travel since the room you're now in is in the same department of the hospital of the last room. still, it felt far more lonely being in a single room, without jisung. 

it was three am still. you wonder if jisung would be up. you check your phone. he is.

hanji  Today at 3:05 AM

you got moved out D":

did you know???

[Y/U/N] Today at 3:05 AM

no not at all

they only just told me before they moved me...

hanji  Today at 3:05 AM

oh ok

man its gonna be so lonely here tho =3=

[Y/U/N] Today at 3:06 AM

lol not like we rlly talked physically anyways, were still on discord XD

but i get what you mean... especially now that im in a single room, its weird that youre not a curtain apart

its just me alone in this single room

hanji  Today at 3:06 AM

yeah... its weird just knowing ur not next to me anymore

you both sigh at the same time, looking up at your ceiling. in your case, you knew that they wanted you to stay here for one more day before discharging you... but what about jisung?

[Y/U/N] Today at 3:08 AM

hanji...

do you know when you are being discharged from the hospital?

hanji  Today at 3:08 AM

uhmm

actually, i have a feeling theyll discharge me today

[Y/U/N] Today at 3:08 AM

oh ok

that's good to hear :D

hanji  Today at 3:09 AM

omg do you want me to go so badly

i am hurt 💔

[Y/U/N] Today at 3:09 AM

BRUH 😭

hanji  Today at 3:09 AM

AHAHAHSJJSKS

hbu tho?

[Y/U/N] Today at 3:09 AM

since they moved me to this new room, im gonna be staying here a lil longer :”)

hanji  Today at 3:10 AM

heres to hoping for your speedy recovery too 😔✊

fighting!! 

[Y/U/N] Today at 3:10 AM

fighting!! ✊

now get some sleep before a nurse catches u up XD

you send jisung one of those cute wholesome good night memes before shutting off your phone for the night. you could only heave another heavy sigh as you stare at the blank ceiling, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor beside you slowly lulling you to sleep, yet the thin blankets could not keep away the cold of the loneliness you felt in your solitary room as you miss the company of your neighbor, and once again you’re reminded of your dislike of the hospital that’s practically become your second home.

[yonemurishiroku]

Do you think that the solangelo contains more of a forceful representation, and if so, what is your advice to authors who are trying to make lgbtq+ representation seem more a part of the story/flow with the story then the opposing option?

May 22nd. I'm so sorry, my mind has been going off track for a while. I'm really sorry for the delay. 😭😭

So, regarding Solangelo as a representation, well this is gonna be hard to say lol. This has been circling the fandom since the day of its emergence, and this is certainly not a good time but eh penny for my thought ig.

Now. I suppose I have a very varying definition of representation, but let's not dwell on that. As for now, I can say that I do consider Solangelo somewhat forcefully developed. As in, the term of writing, plot-wise, etc...

It's quite difficult to say. I have no problem with Solangelo as a couple - or their dynamic - per se. Rather, it's the pacing that throws me off. This has been addressed in many posts - Solangelo has a quite... abrupt (?) takeoff. I just felt like Rick did not mean to make them a thing but just a spur of a moment - something small and... promising that you left hanging at the end of the series for reader's interpretation, for whatever reason (This actually lines up with Boo's time of releash I think? The LGBTQ+ literature being unpopular I mean).

In fact, Solangelo's whole developing process happened behind the curtains - as in, we're told, not shown. Imagine. In BOO, their friendship just barely sprouts, and the next time we see them again in TOA, they're already a couple. For the longest time possible, it was left to the reader/fanfic writers to deduce wth happen for them to become a couple in like idk 6 months? (A pretty fast process for someone like Nico imo. but that's just me).

Something like that is bound to raise some doubts.

The full picture itself is only revealed - partly, and through second reminiscence, mind you - in TSATS. It's also the reason TSATS feels kinda off to me, ig - the fact that some parts actually misalign with the established canon events, or appear like a patch to cover a hole in the piece of fabric. And some others just straight up fall into the what-the-f-was-in-your-mind-rick category. I doubt it was even Rick's initial plan to come up with TSATS in the first place.

However, it's also worth acknowledging that, whilst it would certainly help, Rick hardly has the capacity to fully-build another 5-book romance for Solangelo. That's as far as it can go (I usually think this to placate myself at the thought of the ship being undeveloped). Nico is not the franchise's protagonist (more like deuteragonist I guess), no matter how far this story goes and how widely loved he is, let alone Will.

On to the advice part.

Please keep in mind that I am, in no way, a professional or good writer, nor do I study sexual orientation and/or identity theory (I barely know the flags). I've also grown up and received education in an Estern (somewhat conserative?) country, so please take whatever I say with a grant of salt.

Now. When it comes to "make it seem more a part of the story", I... actually don't know how to say this...

Just look at the all the BL mangas (Japanese comics) and danmeis (Chinese BL literature) and BL manhwas (Korean comics). I have been reading BoyLove longggg before I even came to PJO, you know? The Eastern fandoms have surprisingly extensive LGBT content for a conservative culture, anw they have been telling and/or drawing stotries upon stories about same-sex couples since the dawn of internet. They don't even need to try. They have the image of a love, a story in their mind and just... go along with it.

You don't make it a part of the story. The story is either about it (much or little), or just nothing at all.

I'm saying making a story about it - rather than trying to incorporate it into the story. Give it background and enough development, it'd progress itself. You don't give it anything, of course it'd feel flat. This goes with any type of romance, not just LGBTQ+.

The problem with Solangelo itself, imo, is not the nature of their relationship (tho I do admit somtimes Rick makes me go wtf), but rather how they're portrayed. And furthermore, said portray in proportion to people's expectation. Solangelo, by all means, is a side-story at best (unless Rick manages to come up with a trilogy about their journey from start to finish idk 🤷‍♀️). People like it, so they tend to expect more from it, but the author's just a human.

I think this is everything... My thoughts are kinda in a jumble as I'm writing this, so feel free to ask if something doesn't make sense... This is also just my personal view lol don't take it too seriously if it differs from yours too much.

Lastly, I know my advice would probably not do much, however I hope for you to find your way to tell your stories the best you can!

[chaosintheavenue]

Design Doc 3: Boulder

Chaos's obsession level: 3/3

I adore the Boulder Dome, so buckle up for a wild ride!

Bio med gel (the stuff inside these bad boys) was invented in the Boulder Dome.

'Those who refuse are put in cold sleep, using technology the original Dome scientists developed to aid space travel'- I've said it before but I'll say it again: Outer Worlds much?

This might be my British ass underestimating the size of the US, but it's always seemed utterly outrageous to me that it took Agnes and co a year to travel from California (let's assume Shady Sands or the Boneyard) to Boulder.

So, allegedly the Boulder scientists picked up on broadcasts from Denver, but ignored them because they were afraid of being attacked by 'diseased people'? My siblings in VB, YOU are the diseased people here.

Wagner from Denver makes a daring cameo appearance.

'Presper was able to talk everyone into a conference via video monitor' Zoom calls canon. I don't make the rules.

What does Presper consider Goddard responsible for? My best guesses would be a) The Plaguening of the scientists (which I believe was an accident and not Presper's intent) and/or b) The deaths of some of the scientists during the journey to the Dome.

There were mini quests planned that sound a whole lot like the 76 daily quest Ecological Balance.

We have our first mention of nutrient paste.

On how designers should express the overall feel and tone of their area to the audio team: 'Emote if necessary. Do interpretative dance. I don't fucking care'. This may or may not have been present in the last two documents, but it tickled me this morning.

Presper calling the Jackals 'humanitarians' is peak comedy to me.

The nutrient paste is the only food they have?!

Interesting difference between my lore and design doc lore. Officially, the interior of the Boulder Dome is very brightly lit, but in my version, all non-essential lighting is meticulously switched off to conserve power.

And now the design doc is mildly contradicting itself re: why the scientists wear environmental suits. It's definitely intended to be because they have the New Plague first and foremost, not because of the broken air filtration.

'Check for emergencies and task list'- I swear, these scientists are just playing real-life Among Us.

Who or what is Bedhead?

The original Think Tank appears. I find it equally adorable and hilarious that they want to 'taste' things like Nuka Cola and Mentats by having them dropped into their tank.

The doc is now claiming that the Prisoner was intended to be a vault dweller? Nah, no thanks.

Goddard's little Drama section is titled 'Angry Authority' lol.

The Daughter of Hecate living with the Jackals is literally called 'Crazy Bitch'.

I absolutely love how it's made abundantly clear that Goddard is irreversibly bald, just to make sure the Prisoner doesn't get any ideas of delegating the Jackals problem to him.

Goddard's terminal login is Sisyphus jhgfdfgh.

It's now been specifically pointed out twice that characters here don't smile much. Welp, can't say I blame 'em...

Saw a throwaway mention of Isaac Gant's armor and squealed. This is what I've been reduced to. God help us all when I get to doc 7...

The Robobrains subtly attempting to self-destruct despite their programming is sad.

There's bits of the Denver design document duplicated in here. Pretty sure the quest section was copied across as a template. If I had a penny for every time I've had to read about getting the brewery units working again...

I knew I didn't invent the name 'Nutripaste'!

Podunk, Colorado is back again in another copy-pasted segment.

Ending slides time. Most of these are fucking bleak. Poor Xian...

I find it intriguing that there was an ending slide for a ghoul victory.

[thessaliah]

Given the fact that Human Order supports Marisbury’s plan, do you think there’s a possibility he saw something that threatens the humanity beyond the observable universe? (maybe using Daybit’s info) I think his plan is interesting and intriguing but it really is… quite radical, isn’t it? I wonder if it’s just his beliefs or he’s trying to avert a real threat.

P.S. also I do wonder if he could be a Beast of some kind, seeing how far he is ready to go and how he loves humanity, but idk if it makes sense since Beasts are Evils of Humanity and Maris is apparently not… but with Nasu and his bs I wouldn’t be surprised anymore.

Spoilers.

We know both Kirsch and Daybit were against this plan, and Kirschtaria was stated to be a 'traitor' to the Human Order so it wasn't about the Bleaching conspiracy (that's confirmed caused by Chaldeas, by the way). Kirschtaria and Daybit had a deal about determining which method was the best, but also he asked Daybit to tell Novum Chaldea the truth if they confronted him instead.

Olgamarie as Guardian of Humanity was created by Goetia (the colony, I assume at the time, since didn't have a conscious individual ego developed until later) so was implied by Daybit, or rather by Lev specifically. All Lev's hurtful manipulation of Olga was something Goetia (the colony) directed unconsciously, however, Lev developed feelings for Olga which was a miracle and this is the consequence. This is vaguely referred to what happened. But it looks like she was going to be eliminated for good, but Lev's feelings protected Olga. We don't actually know what happened or what he did then, we know Nasu eventually explained in his blog when part 1 ended that he antagonized Chaldea members because he's attached to them, something like speaking of hatred, but actually loved their kind of contradiction. If he lied about not caring about Romani's trust (Da Vinci laughed because he did in the Temple) and pretended he wanted Mash dead, he probably lied about all the hurtful things hurled at Olga in Fuyuki (retcon). It's due to the hive programming vs individual feelings.

In Lostroom, Olga's only flashback of pain was the whole 'tortured by humanity' (again brought up in this chapter) and not Lev's claim she's going to die endlessly, maybe he was lying through his teeth. Lev's miraculous feelings gave them all a fighting chance, I think against Goetia (who due to Lev's own wish for her salvation, spared Mash and tried to stall his own plan) and Marisbury with U Olga's emergence instead of the less clownish God apostle. We'll see that's how I interpret it. Marisbury / Chaldea could indeed be a Beast, if he's an 'excess.' I also wondered back when U Olga appeared with Holmes mumbling "Beasts aren't Servants" which made me think then U Olga was Marisbury's Servant in the way Beast of Revelations is Manaka's. That was one of my theories. It's also possible Marisbury's new body is molded after Olga too, like - Zouken and Sakura's successful deal, and the many examples where the father takes on the daughter's body (Bakin, Hokusai).

It's becoming too messy with retcons for me to take this seriously, tho. Lol. I only read up this point to find out Daybit's truth and I'm satisfied with his backstory and motivations actually, even if he's not Bluebook.

[juniperhillpatient]

Care to share one or more of your takes you would consider controversial for atla.

Ooh this is tough cause I feel like I’m constantly sharing my ATLA opinions so they’re mostly known 😅

A rundown of bullet point takes that I won’t budge on & think are straightforward but see people debating constantly anyway 👁👁

The Boiling Rock Betrayal was well written & did make sense people just over complicate it. Mai & Ty Lee deserved more detailed examinations of their views in other instances but it’s extremely plain what happened in this instance: adrenaline fueled actions were taken in an emergency / life threatening situation. Mai & Ty Lee weren’t wrong to save lives (it also wasn’t planned? why & how do people think it was?) & Azula was sympathetic for being hurt after the betrayal (but she was still unequivocally the villain here)

We don’t know enough about Ursa from the show to truly know what her relationship with Azula was like, making multiple interpretations of the dynamic equally valid

This is less about the show itself (though the comics & the writers being insecure about their canon ship don’t help) & more the fandom but K.at.Aang vs. Z.utara arguments are some of the most obnoxious pointless arguments I’ve ever seen & the slander toward both Aang & Zuko from opposing sides is REALLY sad considering their friendship & character arcs are at the heart of the show. It’s a kid’s show y’all calm down you can want whichever cartoon characters you want to kiss it’s not that serious. These arguments also tend to frame Katara as a prize to be won rather than one of the most badass characters in her own right & it’s uncomfortable

Anti Zuko takes from Azula fans & anti Azula takes from Zuko fans are both equally embarrassingly hypocritical & ugly

Hm okay a lot of these have had to do with the Fire Nation characters, let’s mix it up. Sokka isn’t a super genius OR a dumbass. He’s someone who would get bad grades for not doing his homework cause it’s boring but he aces every test. He’d explain some complicated physics subject to you then eat pizza out of the garbage in front of you. This one might not be *that* controversial but I do feel like I see debates over his intelligence lol

Southern Raiders is a great episode & it’s not about shipping (I mean it *can* be but that’s not the main point) it’s about opposing ideologies. Katara not necessarily forgiving Yon Rha but also not killing him is an AMAZING Katara moment where she makes the best choice for HER. If you hate this episode cause of shipping discourse or bad takes or whatever you’re missing out on an excellent episode that finally explores the anger & grief Katara has over her mother’s death. I see so much discourse over this episode but I try to ignore it cause it’s one of my favorite episodes & I don’t want fandom bs to ruin that for me

I loved Jet & felt like there was a lot to explore in this kid who’s charming & manipulative because he had to become that way because of trauma & wanted to care for other kids. I loved his dynamic with Katara & later Zuko & seeing how he’d changed. I initially thought his death, while it made me sad, was narratively fair to drill home the brutality of war. But the vagueness & later jokey callback changed my mind. Can’t drill home brutality if you’re gonna write it like *that.*

Final take & this is about the fandom at large: we forget this is an early 2000s kid’s show. It was fantastic storytelling visually beautiful & we wouldn’t still be talking about it if the characters didn’t grip us. The endless discourse & debates over things that don’t matter are tiring & ultimately a waste of time & energy - so that’s my final unpopular atla take for the day 😄 (also I’m NOT claiming to be guiltless when it comes to partaking in these debates lol) (also this isn’t about *analysis* which is always fun I’m talking more about discourse over dumb shit like why iroh gave azula a doll)

Thanks for the ask!

[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact - Shocker

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 8.1k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: angst, lots of feelings, but a lot of those are fluffy, happy feelings lol

a/n: there’s not much left so say except for thank you. I hope you enjoy, I tried my best!

Shocker (finale)

series masterlist

“Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.” -George Orwell ‘1984’

Sunday, 3:12 am – immediately following the events of date #7

           The fact that the lights are still on isn’t surprising in the least. It’s been like this after every date. Yoongi is no exception, apparently.

           He pauses outside the door, resting his hand gently against the doorknob. It’s nearly silent, but he can hear familiar voices speaking in hushed tones on the other side of the door. He stares at the dark door, unable to shake the memory of your tear-stained cheeks and swollen ankle from his mind. You had sounded so worried, so afraid of what comes next.

           You’d mumbled out his name when you made it to your bed, the exhaustion on your face momentarily replaced with a look he could only interpret as blind fear. And the way you’d looked at him, wide eyed with a quivering lip…he doesn’t think you noticed, but he nearly caved. He almost laid down beside you and taken you into his arms, deeming the time on the beach not enough.

           With you, it was never enough. Slivers of time and longing looks you never noticed; it would never be enough.

           If the botched date wasn’t evidence enough, it was then, when you gazed up at him and mumbled out his name, Yoongi knew.

           Tonight…it wasn’t enough.

           So he just leaned forward and watched how your eyes fluttered shut as he pecked your nose.

           “I know.”

          Jungkook straightens up from where he was slumped on the couch beside Jin the second the door opens and Yoongi walks in. The scattered conversation that they had all been using as a distraction fades out as each boy focuses in on the newcomer.

           Hobi is practically invisible beneath the huge sweatshirt he wears, his face barely visible as he speaks. “How was it?”

           For some reason or another, there’s always been a postdate analysis of sorts. It’s usually just like this: all of the boys gathered up in the living room in various states of consciousness. Jimin was the only one to slide by without an impromptu meeting after his date, partially because he was too exhausted to see straight and also because everyone knew he’d tell them all the details at breakfast the next morning. He did, and Taehyung actually managed to break a bowl when he lost it over the story of how you and Jimin got kicked out of the basilica.

           Namjoon, on the other hand, had been pretty grim when he realized that Jimin had been teasing you endlessly about your little kiss.

           Now, Yoongi shuffles inside and plops down unceremoniously beside Namjoon, who looks a little worried at the silence. Dropping his heads in his hands, Yoongi rubs at his face before leaning back against the couch.

           “It was fine, if you don’t count the twisted ankle.”

           “What?” Jimin sputter out, suddenly wide awake. “She got hurt?”

           “What happened?” Hobi follows up, leaning forward until he’s nearly slipping off of the couch. “Is she alright?”

           Yoongi is quick to explain your little accident, omitting your tears from the storytelling. He doesn’t want to embarrass you or make the others feel bad. The others listen with rapt attention, Jungkook’s mouth in a little ‘o’ all throughout.

           Jin remains silent on the couch, as he usually does during these little meetings. He’ll occasionally comment on something or voice a question, but he tends to remain fairly quiet. Drinking in the information, eyes clear despite the late hour.

           It’s unnerving.

           “So…it’s not a bad injury?” Namjoon asks, crossing his arms.

           “No, she’s fine,” Yoongi reassures. “Just tired. She went straight to bed after I dropped her off.”

           Taehyung grins knowingly. “Adorable.”

           Everyone is silent as everyone turns to their thoughts, the same thing on everyone’s mind. It’s Hobi again that breaks the silence, stretching and yawning as he gets to his feet.

           “Well, that’s that. It’s over. Gentlemen,” he eyes everyone around the room, shuffling toward the hallway where the warmth of his bed calls to him. “It’s been a pleasure working with you.”

           “Wait!” Jungkook also hops to his feet, much more alert than the older boy. “What happens now?”

           There are a few non-committal answers from around the room, but two people remain silent. Meeting eyes from across the space, Jin and Yoongi share a silent agreement.

           Jin clears his throat, and it’s only then that the boys realize that it’s been hours since he last spoke. With a soft smile he utters, “We let her choose. Whatever she wants, if she wants to go back to normal or decides to date someone.” His eyes return to Yoongi, and suddenly the memory of two years prior is laid out before them. “Then…we let her go.”

           “I’m just saying, if he didn’t want you to find it, he would’ve hidden it in his underwear drawer. Sock drawer is a stupid way to go.”

           You sip at the horchata Gina brought over for you, huffing out a laugh. “You’re so weird.”

           Gina shrugs. “Just saying. So what did you get up to yesterday?”

           Yesterday. You had woken up with red eyes and puffy cheeks from all the crying you had done the night before. Slightly embarrassed but more feeling miserable for yourself, you had crawled to the shower and tried to get your thoughts straight.

           When you emerged, you had a couple of texts to welcome you. They were from Jimin and Taehyung, welcoming you back to the groupchat. There were plenty of happy emojis and balloons taking up the messages, enough to make you crack a smile. You shot back a thank you text, letting out a sigh of relief.

           It was good to be back.

           When Namjoon texted and tentatively asked about the state of your ankle and if you were open to them popping over, you took nearly an hour to decide. Nervous about seeing all of them, cautious because you had no idea what would happen if you were in the same room.

           Who would you radiate toward, without even realizing?

           It was then, when that question popped up, that you realized that you had known the answer all along.

           It was startling, how the answer had been there all along. So simple, yet so unattainable.  

           “The boys wanted to check in on me,” you sigh, glaring down at your ankle. It’s still sore, but much better today. Although it’s safe to say you won’t be flying kites anytime soon.

           “But…?”

           “The thought of all seven of them in my little apartment at the same time was overwhelming,” you admit. “I needed a minute. To think. And I know I’ve had weeks to think about it, but yesterday was the first time I felt like I could see the full picture…if that makes sense.”

           Gina nods thoughtfully, reaching over to refill your glass of horchata. The sun is steadily making its way to the horizon, another day wrapping up. “It does. You’ve been going out with someone different each week, you’re probably suffering from information overload after all of those dates and the confession on the pact…how are you not exhausted?”

           “I was yesterday. I was torn – Gina, I want to go back to normal so bad. Just the way it was.”

           “Ignorance is bliss.”

           You set your glass down, pushing back from the table and crossing your arms. “Wouldn’t that be better?” You muse. “That way, nobody gets hurt.”

           Gina tilts her head to one side, eyes flashing. A smirk forms on her face. “You wouldn’t be saying this if you hadn’t already decided on someone.” She leans forward in her seat, staring into your soul. “Who?”

           You school your features into a neutral position. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

           “No, no. You don’t get to shut me out. You have feelings for someone, don’t you!” Gina points an accusing finger at you, letting out a startled laugh. “You totally do! What went on in your head, yesterday? Or maybe you’ve loved them for a while, and this is what it took to realize it-”

           “I can’t do it, Gina.” Your eyes are wide as you plead more with yourself than her. “I can’t do that to the others.”

           “And what, you plan to just let him go?”

           Dropping your head into your hands, you squeeze your eyes shut. “Do I have another choice?”

           The scrape of the chair against the floor alerts you to Gina rising from her seat, and you expect her to leave. She has every right to, you’re frustrated with yourself as well. However, a second later she’s rubbing your back, urging you to look up. Once you do, she offers you a small smile.

           “You always have a choice.”

           Gina stays for a couple more hours, offering her support as you blubber on about how worried you are. While your heart is urging you to throw caution to the wind and go after what you’ve wanted for longer than you ever realized before, your mind does a great job of conjuring up different reactions from the others.

           All of them are depressing. Every time you close your eyes you’re met with the crestfallen expressions of your best friends. Scenarios play out in your head, where you’re blissfully happy for a few seconds before everything comes tumbling down.

           “You’ve gotta get out of your head,” Gina chides as she eases off the couch. “You’re miserable.”

           You sigh, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s just…I can’t do anything. I can’t. That’s horrible of me.”

           “They’re grown boys; they knew what they were getting themselves into with this. Just…tell me something before I head out.”

           “…ok.”

           Gina pauses before the door, hands on her hips. “Why him? Because from where I’m sitting, they all love you.”

           The question takes you by surprise, but the answer is rolling off your tongue in an instant. “I want to be loved, yes. But more than that…I want to be understood.” You stare at a framed photo on the wall, solemn. “He understands me.”

           You don’t hear when Gina leaves, the thoughts in your head too loud. Instead you stay seated on the couch, chewing on your lip. Wondering.

           Remembering.

           All the times he’d been there – he was always there for you, how could you never notice? – never drawing attention to himself. Just there. Just in case you needed him.

           What’s stopping you?

           A knock on the door stops your train of thought, and you hobble up to your feet. Swinging the door open you say, “Did you forget something?”

           Jin stands on your porch, clutching a garment bag to his chest. His ears are bright red, set aflame by the setting sun. He’s wearing his glasses, which he pushes up on his nose. “I…no?”

           “Oh!” You step back, wincing a little from your ankle. “I thought you were Gina! I…hey.”

           “Hey.” Shuffling on his feet, Jin looks down at the bag he’s holding, seeming to remember why he was here in the first place. “Oh, here. I know it’s a little late, but I got your dress dry cleaned and…well, yeah. Here you go.”

           His hands tremble a bit, but you don’t comment as you take the bag from him. “Thank you. Your sweater is actually hanging up in my room…why don’t you come in while I grab it?”

           “Can I?” Jin looks down at your doorstep, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t want to intrude…”

           “Just come in!” You call over your shoulder, already heading down the hallway. “This will only take a second. Besides, it’s cold outside.”

           The door clicks shut, Jin stepping inside and shoving his hands in his pockets. You rush inside your room, throwing your dress on a hanger in the closet and scanning your clothes for Jin’s blue sweater. When you find it – grinning at the whale on the front – you pause. Holding it in your hands, you take a deep breath.

           “Hey,” Jin’s voice rings out down the hallway. You catch a slight tremble in his tone, which is mirrored by your shaking hands. “I a-actually wanted to talk to you for a second. If that’s ok…?”

           Clearing your voice of the emotion that’s riding you, you respond. “Just come down here.”

           A second later Jin is tentatively peeking inside your room, giving you a nervous smile. His eyes then land on your dresser, widening a bit.

           “So you did steal my copy!”

           Gasping, you toss Jin’s sweater at him and lunge for the dresser. There’s the pact, out in the open for anyone to see. “I- I was gonna give it back-”

           “I can’t believe you’d steal from me.”

           “It was for a good cause!”

           Jin rolls his eyes, laughing as he snatches the pact from you and holds it up in the air. “Nuh-uh, I’m taking this home with me. You’ve had it for long enough.” He makes a point of folding it up and sticking it in his back pocket, staring down at you with an amused expression.

           Suddenly you’re transported to his living room, dancing in his arms. Staring up at him like he put the stars in the sky while he looks at you like you’re the forbidden fruit.

           Is that why he’s here, now? To finally give in to the temptation?

           From the way the smile slides off his lips, you can tell that he’s remembering the same moment. His mouth opens a bit, looking as though he’s about to speak. After a moment, it shuts. Then he slowly reaches out, arms encircling you as he studies your expression. Waiting for any moment of discomfort.

           The second Jin pulls you into his embrace and you rest your head against his chest, his shoulders deflate and he lets out a long sigh.

           It’s not a sigh of relief.

           “Do you remember the first time we hung out together? Jimin wanted to bring you to the Spring Day set, and it was freezing. We were all complaining about our toes falling off and yelling at Namjoon for writing about such a cold song.”

           You chuckle, nodding. Jin’s voice rumbles through his chest as he continues. “I thought that it was so embarrassing, too. We were complaining like kids in front of Jimin’s pretty friend. I figured that you’d never want to hang out with us again. I’ll never forget how angry Jimin was with us after, saying that we were probably making you uncomfortable. Obviously, we all said that it was stupid of him to bring you to a freezing music video set for our first meeting.”

           Jin tightens his grip, laying his cheek atop your head and swaying gently back and forth. You’re not sure if he even realizes that he does it, but you don’t ask. Not as he’s walking down memory lane. It feels like it’s been centuries since you first met.

           “You know what I remember the most about you from that day?”

           You hum, nuzzling in a little closer. Hanging on for just a moment longer.

           “You never complained. Like, at all.” Jin cups your chin, making you look up at him. He smiles softly, but his eyes are sad. “I thought it was a superpower or something, seriously. You just smiled and joked around with Jungkook and Tae. If you were cold or uncomfortable or even weirded out by us, you didn’t say anything.”

           You roll your eyes, latching your hands behind Jin’s back. “I was definitely weirded out, but I didn’t want Jimin to feel bad. He was so excited for me to meet you guys.”

           Jin chuckles, the sound momentarily warming you up. “But the point is, you didn’t complain. You’ve always been like that. Even now, being dragged on seven dates and having to deal with us figuring out our own feelings, you never once complained. You never backed away.”

           The sadness that lingers in Jin’s eyes has you tightening your hold, wondering how to get rid of that sorrow. Your train of thought is interrupted when Jin brushes back a strand of hair, softly tucking it behind your ear.

           “You are beautiful and a wonder. You will always be important to me, no matter where life takes us. You will always be that person that I’ll drop everything for, ok?” Jin takes another long, adoring look at you before reaching behind him and gathering your hands in his. He slowly pulls away from you, staring down at where he holds your hands. “I might be an idiot at times, but I can tell when I’m in the way.”

           As he takes a step back, you watch as he drops your hands. “Jin, wait,” you reach out, grasping his arm as he moves to turn away. “Jin- Seokjin, what’s going on-”

           “You and Yoongi have that in common, did you know that?” Jin offers you a close-lipped smile, placing his hand on yours where you cling to his jacket. His thumb swipes over your knuckles once – twice – before he’s stepping back yet again. “Neither of you are complainers. I mean sure, there’s the funny complaints that everyone makes. But he has a penchant for suffering silently. I’d say he’s a bit of a masochist, but that’d be a lie. He just cares.”

           Jin has made it to your doorway now, where he pauses and leans against the doorframe. He crosses his arms, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought, a faraway look in his eyes. “I think he doesn’t know what to do with it, all those feelings. He just cares so much, about everyone. For you.”

           “Jin,” you gasp out, “what are you doing?”

           One corner of his lips pull up in a smirk. “Me?” He shifts his weight to his other leg. “Letting go.”

           “What are you even talking about?”

           “Don’t get me wrong, I intend to complain. You’ll get an official complaint in the mail soon enough, just give it three to five business days to get here. But I realized something a little while ago: complainers always find some new to complain about. And while that sucks, it also means that they move on. They find something new, no matter how long it takes.”

           He keeps looking at you with that sad smile, and it’s ripping the ground out from under you. You want to scream, throw something, or perhaps dissolve into tears. But nothing happens. You just keep breathing.

           In.

           Then out.

           And Jin keeps speaking. He’s rambling now, something he does when he’s nervous. His brows are still furrowed, and you wonder if he’s making this up as he goes. If the only thing he knew what that he had to find a way in, only to find a way out.

           “As twisted as my logic sounds, I think it gives me hope. Eventually, I’ll be ok. Probably be complaining about the weather or maybe even a girl in no time. Just give me some time, and I’ll bounce back.”

           “Jin,” you croak out. “…you don’t complain, not about these things. Why are you doing this? S-stop doing this.”

           “But it’s like I said: Yoongi doesn’t complain. Jagiya, I know him. Better than you do.” Jin closes his eyes, pinching them shut before opening them again. “He’ll never get over you. I mean it. And if my logic holds true…that means that you’ll never move past him, either.”

           Folding his sweater over his arm, Jin steps back into the hallway. You step forward, your stomach churning.

           “Seokjin!”

           He hesitates for a single heartbeat, almost looking like he’ll turn back around and declare it all some twisted joke. Like he’ll pull you back into his arms and admit that he’s been inside his memories for the past two weeks, replaying “La Vie en Rose” as he lies awake at night.

           But he doesn’t. He refuses to look at you as he marches down the hallway. As he walks, he continues to speak.

           “I was angry that night, when you called him instead of me. When you accidentally deleted your essay. He left, and I was stuck at home, pining after you like some teenage boy. I think even then, I knew that it wouldn’t be me in the end. But I’d die trying.” He laughs, joking but it doesn’t come off very funny.

           It’s when he’s reached the door and goes to pull it open that you call out to him again, sounding like you’re on the verge of tears. “But it was you, wasn’t it?” You run a hand through your hair. “You wrote the note, o-on the back of the pact.”

           With his hand on the doorknob, Jin glances back at you over his shoulder. Now you understand why he couldn’t stand to look at you a moment earlier. Those are tears glistening in his eyes.

           He looks at you for a long moment, eyes so clear and bare that you can see the very moment he lays down his weapons and admits defeat. “Would it change anything?”

           He’s already twisting the doorknob, but just before he opens the door, he hesitates. Waiting for an answer, you realize. Some small part of him still pulses with hope, even after all he’s said.

           You can’t give that hope.

           “There’s a difference, you know,” Jin mumbles, eyes dropping. “Just because I loved you first doesn’t mean I can love you the best. I think sometimes the world forgets that.”

           And then he’s gone.

           In.

           Out.

           Perhaps the most shocking development has been the fact that you’re still breathing. When Jin leaves your apartment, the sky doesn’t fall. Your heart, while aching, doesn’t shatter into a million little pieces. The quiet hum of your dishwasher continues on, oblivious to all that’s transpired.

           A few tears slip down your cheeks, which you quickly wipe away. When your dishwasher buzzes, you drift over to it as though in a daze. Wiping your hands on your dishtowel, you move to open the dishwasher.

           But it’s that dishtowel with stitched stars that Yoongi gifted you forever ago. Stars.

           You are the stars I’ve been reaching for ever since that night.

           Snatching the towel from where it hands off your oven, you fumble for your phone. Dishes long forgotten, you bring the phone up to your ear and nervously tap your foot. “C’mon, c’mon…”

           “Jagiya?”

           “Hobi!”

           “Hey, what’s up? How’s your ankle?”

           You chew on your lip, struggling to regain composure. “I- yeah. The ankle’s fine. Look, I need to cash in my question now.”

           Hobi chuckles on the other side of the phone. “That’s what I was afraid of. Wanna come over to the studio?”

           “Be there soon.”

           It’s dark outside, countless stars winking down at you as you hurry inside the Hybe building. You throw a glare up at them, wondering if they were in on it the entire time. If the stars have always been aware that Min Yoongi had no interest in them, much preferring your company to the twinkling lights in the heavens.

It’s your first time in here, the boys having recently moved into the new building. As such, you’re instantly disoriented. At a loss for where to go, you call Hobi.

“Hey, where…?”

“Turn around!”

You whirl around to see the elevator doors sliding open, Hobi hopping out. “Hey, you made it!” He instantly pulls you in for a hug, which you gratefully receive. “Everything ok, jagi?”

It’s then that you realize how you must look. Tear-stained cheeks and tired eyes don’t make for the best combination. “Oh…yeah. I’m alright.”

Hobi doesn’t believe you at all, but he doesn’t push it. Not here, out in the open lobby. Instead he pulls you into the elevator, punching one of the buttons. “Long day?”

You laugh quietly, leaning up against the wall of the elevator. “A little, yeah. What about you? What are you up to?”

“Oh, we’re recording a new Japanese OST. Wanna listen to it once we get up there?”

“Is that even a question?”

It feels unbelievably good to be here with Hobi, falling into an easy conversation despite the nervousness coursing through your veins. Once you reach the eighth floor, Hobi leads you down the hallway toward a closed door.

“What’s that?” He asks, pointing to where you still hold the dishtowel in your hands.

You blink, not even realizing that you brought it in with you. “Oh…um…part of my question, I think?”

Hobi chuckles, pausing outside of the door. “I was wondering when you were gonna use that question.”

At the end of your date with Hobi two months ago, he’d allowed you two questions about whatever you wanted to know. You only asked one, wanting to keep the other for a future time. You never thought it would lead to this.

“Ok, let’s head inside.”

Your eyes widen, but Hobi doesn’t notice as he pushes the door open and strides inside. The sight that greets you makes you want to sink through the floor.

Namjoon and Jungkook sit in front of the recording equipment, while Taehyung and Jimin lounge on the couches at the back of the room. Yoongi is busy on the other side of the glass, eyes closed as he raps into the mic. His dark hair is straight, kissing his brows while he clenches his fists at his sides,

You’re frozen in place as suddenly you’re surrounded by his voice. It’s lilting, more like singing than rapping. The words coming from his mouth stop your heart.

“Don't have to be right, just wanted you to stay the way you are, kindhearted, always smiling, but-”

“Hey!” Taehyung jumps up from his seat, alerting everyone to your presence. “You’re here!”

Jungkook swivels around in his chair, wide eyes crinkling as he grins. Namjoon quietly greets you, cheeks pink as he struggles to focus on the task at hand.

It’s Jimin that notices how lost you look. “Everything alright?” He ambles over to you, bending his knees a bit to look at you. He grabs your shoulder, eyes scanning your face. “Jagiya? Want to sit down?”

But you’re still clinging to Hobi, one hand wrapped up in the fabric of his jacket. “I…actually, Hobi, weren’t you gonna show me your new studio?”

You look back at Hobi, aware that everyone in the room is now staring at him as well with confused looks. You give Hobi a pleading look, but not before you see someone on the other side of the glass.

Yoongi stands before the microphone, frowning as he looks at you. As you lock eyes, he tilts his head to one side and mouths a single word.

Jin?

“I…uh, yeah. Yeah, let’s go look at it first and then come right back, right?” Hobi says, the confusion clear in his voice. Thankfully, he doesn’t question you and instead steps back through the door. “Be right back, guys.”

Just before you walk away, you turn back to try to communicate to Yoongi that you’re here for him, not Jin. But he’s gone, the side door to the studio still swinging from where he walked out.

           Your head is still spinning by the time Hobi heads into his own studio, hardly pausing to admire it before he’s whipping around to face you. The second he closes the door, he’s crossing his arms and giving you a worried look.

           “What was that all about?” He asks. “What’s going on?”

           “Hobi,” you croak out. “Hobi, I need help. I need answers.”

           Plopping down on his cushiony swivel chair, you squint at him. You can feel a headache coming on.

           “I can’t give you the answers if you don’t ask the questions, jagi,” Hobi chides, pulling up another chair to sit in front of you. His gaze catches on your wrist. “You still wear the bracelet I made you?”

           You pause, glancing down at the bracelet. “Of course. Everyday.”

           Hobi smiles softly to himself before leaning back and letting out a long sigh. “Ok. Tell me what’s going on.” He eyes the star-spangled dishtowel still in your hands. “I assume this is about Yoongi?”

           “I…how did you know?”

           He nods to the towel, chuckling softly. “He came to me asking if I knew how to embroider. I didn’t, but I got him a little embroidery kit to practice with on tour. It cracked me up when he ended up buying plain white dishtowels and would spend his time backstage embroidering little stars on them. I didn’t know he was planning on giving them to you at the time…do you guys have some sort of inside jokes with stars or something?”

           You stare at Hobi like he’s just grown a second head. “He what?”

           “What?” Hobi blinks. “Did you not know that he stitched them?”

           Of course not. When Yoongi had gifted you the dishtowels, you’d thought it was sweet, if a bit odd. You even remember joking with him about it, saying that he’d paid off the neighborhood grandma to do it for him.

           “No! I never knew that! Why would I…why would he…”

           “So…you don’t have an inside joke about stars?”

           You sigh, throwing a hand over your eyes. “How could I be so blind?” Slumping down in the chair you ask miserably, “I mean, it makes sense, I guess…he’s done so many things-”

           At this, Hobi stops you. “Like what?”

           There is a long, long list of things that Yoongi did for you that he never told the boys.

           “Or there’s that time he passed up on his Laker’s tickets because I had that end-of-year project due, and I was worried that nobody would show up to my presentation.”

           You remember that with a jolt. You had to give a twenty minute presentation on the effects of addiction, something that hardly seemed like a riveting topic. The general public was invited to the lecture hall, but despite your valiant efforts handing out fliers and sending e-vites, you were convinced that it was going to be a flop.

           It was. There were about seventeen people scattered about the hall that typically seated three hundred. Your hands were shaking and you thought you might burst into tears on stage because you felt like an utter failure, but then movement caught your eyes.

           Sneaking in and taking a seat on the very back row, sat Yoongi. His bucket hat was pulled low across his eyes and a couple of body guards tried (and failed) to looked inconspicuous as they took seats near him. When you stuttered, he help up a thumbs up and quietly encouraged you to go on.

           Jin’s words from earlier come back to you. I think he doesn’t know what to do with it, all those feelings. He just cares so much, about everyone. For you.

           By this point, you’re exhausted with all of the things Yoongi has done over the years. How blind you’ve been to his unadulterated kindness. Hobi senses it, seeing your shoulders droop. He falls silent, allowing you to sort out your thoughts before you speak.

           “Does he still want me?”

           Looking up at Hobi, you allow yourself to feel the question at you repeat it. “How could he still want me? After how blind I’ve been to my own feelings?”

           Hobi smiles softly, leaning forward to take your hand in his. He gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Jagi…I don’t think Yoongi completely understood his own feelings most of the time.”

           “But he’s done so much-”

           “That he has. But when you love someone, you don’t do those kinds of things for gain. He didn’t do those things to make you fall in love with him.” Hobi laughs to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. “He did it because you’re the right person. And when you’re with the right person, it’s simple. Does he still want you? Simple.” He shrugs. “Yes.”

           Yoongi is gone, Jungkook tells you when the boys eventually come knocking at Hobi’s studio. They sit in a semi-circle, pondering all that they’ve learned. Hobi had quickly explained the situation to them, and despite your worry, nothing happened.

           Nobody yelled, nobody banished you from their life.

           Instead, Jimin had laughed. Laughed.

           “Pay up, loser,” he’d commanded as he elbowed Taehyung. Taehyung whined and said that he’d Venmo him in a second.

           “Wait, you made a bet?” You shriek. “About who I’d go for?!”

           The boys all laugh nervously, Namjoon slowly edging toward the door. You snap your fingers at him, glaring. “You don’t get to leave, Kim. Were you a part of this?”

           “I…yeah…”

           “But Yoongi’s gone,” Jungkook repeats. “Aren’t you gonna tell him?”

           You sigh. “How am I supposed to tell him? Just march up to him and throw myself at him?”

           Namjoon shrugs. “I mean, that’d work for me.”

           “Yeah,” Jungkook chuckles darkly. “Just go for that.”

           Hobi rolls his eyes, leaning forward in his seat. “Just do whatever you feel comfortable with, jagiya. But do it soon. You’ll psych yourself out if you wait much longer.”

           It feels like you’ve time-traveled back to middle school, gossiping around the lunch table about your crush. Somehow, that’s comforting. While there’s a bit of awkwardness in the air, you can’t help but feel like you’re back.

           “Oh,” Taehyung snaps his fingers, mouth open in a little ‘o’, “but whatever you do, make sure there’s cookies. Or some sort of dessert.”

           “What?”

           “You know, to celebrate if he accepts your confession, or to make you feel better if he rejects you.”

           Gasping, you jump up to your feet. You point an accusing finger at Hobi. “But you said that he’d still want me!”

           “He does! Taehyung, take that back right now.”

           Tae stands up, his grin softening as he steps forward. That’s when you see how much they’ve been hiding behind their playful demeanors. For you. To help you.

           Wrapping you up in a hug, Taehyung squeezes you tight. “It’ll be fine. Don’t you worry.” And then, quieter so no one else can hear, “We’ll be fine.”

           You’ve never considered yourself to be a nervous baker, but here you are. Sliding another cookie sheet into the oven while two batches are cooling on your kitchen table.

           By the time you made it home last night, you could hardly keep your eyes open. While sleep did come to you relatively quickly, you were wide awake the second the sun crested the horizon. Wide awake, and a nervous wreck.

           Is this how the boys felt when they came to take you out? If so, they deserve a medal of bravery. You’re still within the comfort of your own home, but you can hardly breathe properly.

           Perhaps that has something to do with the fact that Yoongi just sent you a text that he’s on his way. Bouncing on your feet, you run your hands under the cold water in an effort to rid yourself of clammy palms. Drying your hands on the infamous dishtowel, you smile softly.

           Everything is going to be ok.

           Yoongi doesn’t get there for a long time. It’s long enough that you’re worried, and you pick up your phone to call him. A second later, you hear another phone ringing just outside your door. Hardly believing it, you rush toward the front door only to pause.

           “Here we go.”

           Swinging the door open, you come face to face with a guilty looking Yoongi. He’s halfway back down the stairs, but freezes in his steps as he hears the door open.

           “Yoongi?” You’re absolutely bewildered. “Where are you going?”

           Letting out a breathy laugh, Yoongi slowly begins trekking back up the stairs. “Oh…um…I thought I left something in the car.”

           “That’s a lie, isn’t it?”

           “What, are we not lying to each other today?”

           Smiling softly, you shake your head and open the door a little wider. “No. Not today, I’m afraid.”

           Something akin to fear flashes in Yoongi’s eyes at your words, but a second later he’s back to normal. “Smells great. Are you baking cookies?”

           “I’ve baked about a thousand, yeah. Can’t stop. It’s a condition.” You ramble as you turn and head into the kitchen, hoping that he’s following. The sound of his footsteps confirms that he is. “Want some?”

           When he doesn’t answer, you turn around to see what’s going on.

           Yoongi stands beside your table, fists clenched in the sleeves of his cardigan. He’s practically staring holes into the sweet treats, brows furrowed as he takes a deep breath. When he exhales, it’s shaky.

           “I’m fine, you know,” he grinds out, not looking at you. “You didn’t need to bake me cookies. I’m not…I’m not mad.”

           “Mad? What?”

           “Isn’t this why you brought me over? To let me down easy?” His voice is quiet, yet every word is like a bullet. “That’s why you were at the studio last night, wasn’t it? You were talking to the others about Jin.”

           Your heart stops.

           Is that why he disappeared last night? He thought that you’d made your decision, and it wasn’t him?

           “Yoongi, that’s not-”

           He’s already stepping back, refusing to look at you. His eyes are trained on the floor as he stumbles back toward the entryway, looking like he’s doing his best not to full out sprint. “I’m fine, jagiya. I know you’re worried sick about us, but don’t worry. I already told you not to worry, don’t you remember? I shouldn’t have said all of those stupid things on the beach…is that why you brought me over? You felt like I needed some sort of special treatment?”

           You take off after him, unable to believe what you’re hearing. “Yoongi, listen to me. This is for you. It’s all for you.”

           But he doesn’t hear you, he’s busy fumbling with his shoes that he slipped off beside the door. His hands are shaking, but he still refuses to look at you. “I’m so sorry for worrying you,” he says earnestly. His black hair is falling in his eyes, but it doesn’t shield his pink cheeks from your eyes. “I…wow, this is humiliating, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come-“

           “I invited you-”

           “-but I didn’t want to worry you even more, so I came over – why can’t I get these shoes on?!” He collapses to his knees, dropping his head into his hands as he finally gives up on his shoes. “Even that was a stupid mistake,” he whispers, never one to raise his voice. “I bought these for our date but then I realized that they would be stupid to wear to the beach.” He laughs at himself, no humor in the sound.

           You take a look at the dark shoes, which appear to be made of leather. They lace up, but it’s obvious that they’re not broken in yet. Crouching down beside Yoongi, who keeps his face hidden in his hands, you struggle to find words.

           “They look nice,” you mumble, voice raw. Have you been screaming? Or perhaps it’s the emotional exhaustion, finally setting in. “Very pretty.”

           “I wanted to wear them for you. Just once.” Taking a deep breath, Yoongi sits back and brings his knees up to his chest. He back presses against the back of your couch.

           And you’re here. Sitting beside him in the entryway to your small apartment. So far away from where you thought you’d be.

           As Yoongi glares at his shoes, you notice just how bloodshot his eyes are. Like he hasn’t slept in days.

           “Isn’t it odd?” He muses, tired eyes dragging over to meet yours. You’re unable to breathe as he stares at you without the barriers he usually puts up for himself. For the first time you can ever remember, Yoongi looks at you and lets you see everything. Perhaps he’s too tired to mask the longing anymore.

           Your voice comes out as nothing more than a whisper. “What’s odd?”

           He inhales sharply before breathing out slowly. “After everything, I’m still trying to impress you.”

           The small confession strikes you like a bolt of lightning, and you screw your eyes shut. Once the feeling passes and you’ve composed yourself, you open your eyes again to find Yoongi’s again on his shoes. He nibbles on his bottom lip as he reaches out and eases his shoe from your hands. Then, he slips it on his foot.

           As he begins to tie the laces, you open your mouth to say all of the things you should have a long time ago.

           “I see you everywhere I go.” Your eyes are trained on his deft fingers as he pauses for a moment before continuing to lace up his shoe. “For a long time, I didn’t know what to do about it. I just brushed it off as a side effect of our friendship. In my mind, it was better to ignore it than to face it, because then what? I could never have you.”

           His hands are trembling again as he finishes his right shoe and reaches for the left.

           “You’ve always been so good. There whenever I needed you, there just in the off-chance I called. On stand-by, like my own personal assistant.” You chuckle, perhaps a little insane by this point. “And I convinced myself that whatever that was between us, it was enough. It was just gonna be me and my seven best friends for the rest of my life. But then…things started to change. You guys challenged me to view you as something more.”

           He’s nearly finished tying his shoe now, your time is nearly out. But he fumbles, unable to quite finish.

           “That night you guys came up with the dating idea, I knew I was walking into a trap. I wasn’t worried about anyone crossing any boundaries, I was worried about me making the biggest mistake of my life. Sitting there I think I was starting to realize I had feelings for you, and I was one slip-up away from hurting everyone else.”  Now he stops breathing. But his fingers are still slowly working at the laces. “I cared for you then, but I loved you when you showed up at my door seven dates later.”

           He’s just managed to finish tying his shoe when you stop speaking. He doesn’t speak, only staring down at those laces with wide eyes as he processes what you just said. You take his silence in stride, still talking. Still confessing.

           “I didn’t know how to tell you that I was torn between the what-if’s and the what-is. That I was drowning in the possibilities everyone was offering me, but that when I was with you I was finally able to see the world for what it is. But you just said, ‘I know’ and I thought that you did. I figured you knew, because you’re you, how could you not know what I was thinking? You always do.”

           Yoongi stops nibbling on his lip long enough to voice a question, his voice hoarse. “The world for what it is…what is it?”

           You take courage in his curiosity, deeming this a good development. “It’s only tolerable because you’re in it.”

           He falls silent again, deep in his thoughts.

           “Yoongi,” you call softly, heart hammering against you ribs. “Could you look at me for a second?”

           He does, eyes wide with confusion.

           Those eyes, the ones you see everywhere you go. Crinkled up in laughter, joking with you over something stupid. Proudly watching you from the back row as you present to a small crowd. Filled with adventure as you sneak your hand into his pocket at the haunted house, inviting you to dive inside.

           It was those eyes that you saw looking back at you that night with Jungkook, out of breath and lost as suddenly it wasn’t Jungkook kissing you, but Yoongi. That forbidden dream become real as you squeezed your eyes shut and allowed yourself to pretend for a moment longer before pulling away.

           It’s now, looking into Yoongi’s dark eyes that hold so much promise, that you find it easier than ever to say what you should have said that night when he showed up to help you with your essay. Looking frazzled but ready to swim the entire ocean if it would help you. Instead, you had just given him a lingering hug before excusing yourself to go to your room and sleep.

           Sleep hadn’t found you that night, because you had been awake and asking your ceiling why a man like Min Yoongi would do anything for you.

           “Yoongi,” you whisper. “I love you.”

           He doesn’t move, but just blinks. Once. Twice. You see the doubt swirling in his eyes, so when you reach out to pull at his shoelace, you repeat it.

           “I love you.”

           One shoe at a time, you untie the laces. You undo the pain you’ve caused him, break down the barriers he put up.

           “I love you.”

           You continue to repeat the words, focusing on his shoes and not daring to look up at him just yet. Not until you get his shoes off, because then you feel like he can’t run away.

           So you undo the knots and repeat those words with a shaking voice. “I love you, Yoongs.” When you go to slip the shoes from his feet, he helps you, kicking them off and reaching forward to place his hand under your chin and make you look at him.

           Yoongi is crying when you look at him, the tears falling silently. A part of you wonders if he even realizes that he’s crying.

           “You…” he swallows, those eyes so wide. “…love me?”

           It’s simple.

           “Yes.”

           Yoongi furrows his brows again, trying to understand everything that’s happening. “But…Jin.”

           There will be time to explain everything. For now, you answer the question Jin asked you yesterday, standing before this very door. “The pact, the note. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change how I feel. He came over yesterday to ‘let go’, he said.”

           Something like recognition flashes across Yoongi’s face at those two words, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he nods slowly, trying to follow what you’re saying. “And you feel…”

           “I feel very in love with you, yes.”

           What happens next is burned into your memory for the rest of your life.

           Yoongi sits up, reaching across to you in a flash, pulling you until you’re falling forward. He lets out a shaky breath, pulling you into his lap just like he did on the beach. And as he holds you, he laughs. He’s still laughing as he plants a soft kiss to your forehead. He’s grinning as he presses his lips to your cheeks.

           Tears are still falling down his cheeks as he brushes his lips against your own. Hesitantly, as though worried you might pull away and tell him it was all a joke.

You return the kiss fervently, speaking in a language only you two can understand. He pulls away, staring down at you as though surprised to find that you’re really here and not just a figment of his imagination.

“I love you,” he whispers. And then he’s kissing you in earnest.

Breathlessly, desperately, and with a touch of insanity that only comes after spending two nights wide awake and heartbroken. As he holds you tight and kisses you harder, you know that he’s healing himself with each touch.

           One kiss, one shattered fragment of his heart sliding back into place.

           Your hands wrap around his neck and wind into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer as he gasps and whispers those three words again. “I love you.”

           When the smell of burnt cookies pulls you apart several minutes later, Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist and sticks to you like glue. He rests his chin on your shoulder, planting a few lazy kisses along your jaw that sets your skin aflame. “Mm, I love you,” he mumbles between kisses.

           Placing the burnt cooking atop the stove, you chuckle. “I know.”

           “Agh,” Yoongi groans, burying his head in your shoulder. “I thought you meant something different, ok?”

           “I know.”

           “Yah! I was trying to be understanding of your feelings I thought you had for Jin!”

           Reaching to turn off the oven, you grin. “I’m never letting you live that down.”

           As Yoongi feigns annoyance while shoveling cookies into his mouth, you marvel at all it took to get to this point. Yoongi notices your attention, puffy cheeks turning pink. But he doesn’t shy away, instead he silently offers you a cookie.

           “So…” he begins, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ve been thinking.”

           “Dangerous.”

           “Well, I know how much you like bad boys.”

           “Mm, true.”

           Yoongi laughs along with you before continuing. His eyes sparkle like the night sky, drawing you in. “Are you free this Saturday?”

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thank you all for reading! I’ll be back with an inside look at the pact as well as answering any questions you may have. Feel free to send your questions in! 

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[anthemxix]

So... how far did Cia go exactly? I haven’t played hw but I’ve read several fics, and she’s always very... extreme.

hi anon! thank you for your ask!

by “extreme,” i’m thinking you mean stories where she’s a psycho who tortures link or forces unwanted sexual advances on him. which makes for fantastic angst! but that characterization of cia has never felt quite authentic to me.

in the game, she has a roomful of his portraits, like a shrine. that’s extreme. she technically starts a war because of him, which is very extreme, but i don’t think that’s about lusting after him, as people often joke. she says some off-putting stuff, and you could infer that she behaves in an inappropriately “seductive” way, but. she doesn’t really. do anything, like fics might imply. she’s creepy and lewd. i’m sure she makes him uncomfortable as hell. but as for what she does, the extremeness in fics is mostly fan extrapolation.

that’s my short answer! but i kinda got carried away while responding to this, and. um. wrote a lengthy character analysis of cia? XD i thought about not including it, but i spent so much time thinking about/writing this that i’ll go ahead and share.

in my opinion, hw does not present a clear picture of cia, and it skews fan interpretation of her.

(putting this under a cut because it got long 😅)

the story the game gives at the start is straightforward. there's a "guardian of time" (whatever that means) who watches over everything but never interferes. she admires the purity of the hero's spirit. she comes to love the heroes, then to want them. she's lonely. she doesn't want to just watch anymore. she wants to experience love.

gradually her desires become something darker. she doesn't only want the companionship, she wants to possess.

ganon sees this darkness in her heart and causes a split. the darkness separates from her, becomes its own person (a la dark link). the "good" part is lana, the "bad" part is cia.

for ganon, this is all part of a larger plan. in hw, his spirit is divided into four fragments that have been sealed away in different eras. he manipulates cia and gets her to open time gates so he can gather all the fragments together. a key fact: one of the fragments has been sealed away by the master sword, so ganon needs a hero to draw the sword.

cia willingly allows herself to be ganon's pawn because in so doing, in starting a war to force the hero to emerge, she thinks she'll get what she wants. throughout the story, she gives more and more of herself to ganon, fracturing her own spirit further and further, because she is so desperate to claim the hero for herself, to own him. lana repeatedly warns her to stop before she does irreparable damage to herself, but she doesn't listen, and ultimately she...well, dies, i guess. fades from existence. (that's how the original hw ending goes. they added stuff on later that changed this.)

ok, so. we have some interesting stuff going on here. arguably, cia is a tragic figure. a victim even. her underlying motivation is loneliness. viewing it through this lens, the story becomes an exploration of what isolation does to a person. how desperate it can make us. how we become willing to sacrifice anything for love--and i mean "love" broadly, not in a romantic sense. how it makes us vulnerable to manipulation and abuse.

let's also not forget the whole reason she focuses on the hero's spirit to begin with. after witnessing all the atrocities of history, she admires the purity and goodness and self-sacrifice of the hero. it has nothing to do with link being attractive. in her temple (the temple of souls), she has statues of different heroes from different eras, including wolf link and oot/mm link. she is certainly not lusting after an animal or a child, i assure you.

so why does she have frickin portraits of hw link, specifically, (not any other hero's spirit incarnations) plastered all over her walls, if not for lusty purposes? why does she dress so damn seductively? i'm not claiming lust isn't part of it, but i think there's more. she wants to feel surrounded by him, you know? she wants to feel like he's looking at her the same way that she looks at him--with desire. it's delusion.

and holy hell, she's nothing if not deluded. some examples of her actual in-game dialogue: "no matter what betrayals I may suffer, at least I know the hero will always love and protect me." and [to herself, as she's losing a fight] "the hero is still by my side... the hero is still by my side..."

and it's sad. she pretends that he loves her, that he will protect her, because she doesn't have any real love in her life. she doesn't have anyone.

and what's even sadder is that she's condemned to all these feelings and delusions because that's who she is. she is corruption and darkness personified! she's doomed to this lonely hell, to being ganon's servant, to self-destruction.

that's how tragedy, and tragic figures, are defined: hubris. characters that have an innate flaw that inevitably leads to their downfall. that's what a traditional tragedy is.

don't get me wrong here. i'm not saying she had no choice, or that she had to start a war. she can be tragic and we can sympathize with her while also accepting the fact that she's corrupted beyond redemption. morality isn't black-and-white. our understanding of characters, or of real people, isn't black-and-white.

...but. BUT. there is a major "but" here. the game sabotages its own character and its own story. the game opts for the path of least resistance. screw grey areas of morality, screw the tragedy of loneliness, screw exploring vulnerability and abuse and hubris... they sensationalize. cia is a joke.

have you seen her frickin outfit? her character design? she's an uber-sexualized caricature. all those portraits of link in her temple can easily be viewed as a joke, too. "lol, look at this crazy, horny bitch." hell, they even have her say innuendos about the master sword, like, “come show me what your sword can do” or something to that effect. 🙄

it's all very surface level. they don't go deep at all with cia. they give us no substance, only these little bread crumbs of information that i've laid out for you. and not only that, they set this up so that it feeds into old stereotypes. the salient details easily allow us to interpret cia, consciously or not, as an embodiment of feminine hysteria, a woman guided by irrational emotion and obsession, fixated on winning the ultimate prize of a man's love.

so koei tecmo's own confused presentation of this character muddles up fan interpretation and has us falling back on the familiar stereotypes we know and understand. that’s the basis for these depictions of cia as extreme. that’s what fans are extrapolating from when they try to imagine how she might act or what she might say. so in the end, she isn’t really depicted with accuracy. she’s like a caricature of a caricature at that point.

…or at least, that’s my opinion. 🥴

[starbornvalkyrie]

ACOSF USA BOOK TOUR NOTES

Hey y’all! I just attended the LiveTalks Los Angeles event with Sarah J Maas and Eva Chen!! I took lots of notes so I wanted to share them with you all! They’re a little incoherent on the page, so it might seem a crazy, they jumped topics a lot. Feel free to chat with me about what she talked about! But first.

MY RULES:

NO SHIP OR CHARACTER SLANDERING. I know that we all may have different opinions. I will not offer my opinions here, this is purely informational for those of you who did not have the opportunity to attend this event.

PLEASE NO ARGUING IN MY COMMENTS OR ASK BOX WITH ME OR ANYONE ELSE WHO COMMENTS

Acknowledge that I am not perfect and may not have written down everything perfectly. I did my best while still trying to enjoy the event.

I AM NOT SARAH J MAAS AND CANNOT INTERPRET WHAT SHE MEANS

I’m tagging this with #acosf spoilers and #acosfspoilers just in case.

If you understand and can abide by these rules, keep reading below the cut, and enjoy!

SJM said it was weird doing this event from her living room where you might be able to hear her dog in the background or her son trying to get into the room.

ACOSF started as a passion project while she was writing ACOWAR! It was never anything she thought she was going to publish. (more on this later)

About reading and writing growing up

in middle school, she read a lot of fantasy

in high school, she didn’t read as much, but wrote A LOT. it became her fixation, almost an obsession.

in college, she only really wrote on vacations (she had a very healthy social life hehehe) but her junior year is when she found her balance between schoolwork, writing, and socializing.

there was no plan B for her!! it was always to be an author. if it didn’t happen right away, she was going to find a job that would get her by until plan A could come to be.

her favorite author growing up was Garth Nix. She longed for books about badass women. She got to meet him and write a blurb to be on one of his books! She cries when she meets her favorite authors.

Talk about character names!

her character names come from everywhere and nowhere

sometimes she’ll just hear a name in her head and think “that’s it!” (Rhys, for example)

she needs to know the name to write the character

if the name doesn’t immediately come to her, she spends a lot of her time on baby name websites and makes lists until it clicks

sometimes the names just... connect. sometimes she doesn’t mean for them to.

it will always be uncommon. never “Frank” lol

Writing about Nesta!

on a “surface level” she loves writing when Nesta comes out to fight. for example, her favorite scene in this aspect to write was the bog scene. As soon as she got to it, it flowed out of her. The final product was almost identical to the first draft. She wrote it in one session, from the terror & tread to the “who am i?” to when she emerged--she went YES. MAJOR Mic Drop moment for her.

going deeper: definitely her overall journey was one of the favorites she’s ever written. From the dark place she’s in at the beginning to the very end. 

Writing about Nesta meant so much to her because of her own mental health. She channeled a lot of her own feelings and went on the journey with Nesta.

it was a lot of “how do you face mental health in a fantasy world without therapy and medication”

it was easy to get into Nesta’s mind but emotionally intense.

ACOSF’S BIG MESSAGE: LEARNING TO LOVE YOURSELF AND OTHERS. YOU ARE WORTH OF LOVE.

YES there is a book planned for Elain!

As soon as Nesta and Elain came onto the page again in ACOMAF, she knew they’d get their own journey.

Nesta grabbed her by the throat in book 1

She was originally contracted for only the first three books but realized there was more she wanted to explore. Essentially the “what comes next” after ACOWAR in this new world with out the wall.

FUN FACT: while editing ACOMAF/writing ACOWAR, she drunkenly told her editor at the time, “hey guess what happens next?”, and it turned into a two hour conversation about everything she wants to happen for Nesta, Elain, Mor, Azriel, etc. TWO WEEKS LATER, she gets a call saying they want to buy the stories!! Obviously, she said yes.

This allowed her to start planting the Easter eggs for these stories in ACOWAR. She knew she did not want Nesta to be sympathetic at the beginning of the book! But she did not want people to hate her.

She always has one eye on the horizon for future books.

If she could visit one court for a day, which and why?

She LOVES the season Autumn, it’s her favorite. “BUT EVERYONE IN THE AUTUMN COURT IS AN ASSHOLE”. She would want to visit the Autumn Court when no one is there so she can enjoy the beauty of Autumn.

But also she would want to go to the Summer Court because she has a thing for Tarquin but only if it’s not gross and humid.

She would ALSO want to go to the Day Court for Helion and all his libraries.

ESSENTIALLY she would want to go everywhere but Spring because Tamlin sucks and is an asshole lmao.

BEAST FORMS

SJM’s beast form would be something totally not cool or majestic like a sea otter.

Nesta’s beast form would be something terrifying and beautiful like a snow leopard/dragon hybrid, a griffin, or a sphinx. **WANTS SOMEONE TO DRAW THIS**

FUN QUESTIONS

Nesta’s favorite smutty book would be JR Ward’s Black Dagger Brotherhood series. She reads these books for the distraction, of course, but also for the comfort they gave her that everything turns out okay for the characters.

Nesta’s Starbucks order: cappuccino- something simple, nothing with too much sugar or whipped cream. Elain’s would be a Frappe- something delicious and sweet. SJM’s is a flat white, iced or not, but never after 2PM.

SJM usually listens to classical music and movie scores while she writes, but she’s gotten used to write in silence so that she can listen for her son’s shenanigans with Josh.

“Stay Together for the Kids” by Blink 182 semi-inspired the scene when Nesta and Cassian go back to her family’s cottage. She can hardly explain why.

WRITING ADVICE

Write what you love, not what you think you should be writing.

Give yourself permission to suck. Her first drafts are shit and are usually accompanied with an email that says “I know I need to fix this, this and that” lol.

WRITE THE DAMN THING. Vomit on the page!

YOU CAN’T FIX A BLANK PAGE.

Her least favorite part about the publishing process is the first pass of copy edits, those last minute checks and balances. But once it’s off to the printer, it’s not her problem anymore.

She’s every publisher’s worst nightmare because she sends it off to the printer at the LAST possible minute.

For reference: Throne of Glass was finished almost... a year and a half? ...before it hit shelves, but ACOSF was finished this past fall.

MAIN CHARACTER TALK

All of her heroines have a piece of her.

SJM’s personality is a hybrid of Bryce and Nesta.

Feyre and Nesta got most of her in terms of learning to be empowered.

She has to have a connection to them in order to write them. It’s an out of body, method acting experience.

MISCELLANEOUS

She said “CC2 is a year from now.”

She started writing ACOTAR in 2008 before she published TOG.

She loves the story and dynamic of Elizabeth and Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. Cassian is Elizabeth. Nesta is Darcy.

And that’s all I have, folks! Thank you for reading, I hope you got something out of this!

[leqclerc]

care to spare more on the twilight meets sebchal idea? i‘m buzzing with excitement right now. the more i think about it the more comparisons i see 🥺

Oh man, I don't even know. I just occasionally get hit with like... nostalgia for the aesthetics and the music, y'know? Plus, I've been casually re-watching the movies every few nights so yeah I guess it's been rattling around my head, lol. But it's not like I have a solid plan or plot for a fic or anything. I mean I kind of did a while back but it's a more loose interpretation that doesn't faithfully follow the plot and isn't set in high school in America, lmao. Maybe at some point I'll go back to my WIPs and try to bang out a scene or two from that AU. It is NaNo after all...

The problem is, like...I genuinely can't decide which of them would be the vampire in this scenario? I could see it working both ways. I mean Charles is extraordinarily handsome, has (by own admission) "yellow eyes", drives a Ferrari, speaks several languages, plays the piano, is rich, impossibly fast and strong, etc. Reading the book and seeing how Bella describes Edward you're like "well lol he's not real people like that don't exist." And then you look at Charles and you realise SMeyer was ahead of her time and she knew he'd be torturing all of us on the regular sjdjef

But at the same time, Seb has the life experience and knowledge of someone who's lived, well, a really long existence. I can see him struggling to accept what he is/his nature (especially if he was, like, a medical emergency "change" or something and couldn't really make an informed choice because someone made it for him) given what we know of him and his outlook on life in general. I'm pretty sure there's an interview somewhere where he gets asked if he'd choose to be immortal or something and he says no because living life and making mistakes and learning from them and changing and shaping your life is what makes it worth living for him. So I think if he'd been changed (even closer to/at 30 and not very young like most of the Cullens) he'd have some angst about it and maybe a "rebellious phase" (think RB era) in his first few years as a newborn before maturing and kind of...trying to give his new existence some sort of meaning beyond just feeding. Imo he'd adopt a Carlisle-like approach and use the infinite time at his disposal to learn, gain knowledge, experience, better himself, meet other vampires, travel, help humans/the community, etc. I think he'd also be one of the first to convert to vampiric vegetarianism. You could even keep the mind reading aspect and have only Charles be immune to Seb's gift. Or he could be a "giftless" vampire.

So yeah given what we know of Seb I can't see him romanticizing immortality, let alone vampirism, and being all eager to be bitten and changed the way Bella was. If he were the human in this scenario and he fell for Charles I think he'd choose to stay human and just... have a long, happy life with Charles and his farm and his chickens and his whatever else, and then let nature take its course. Charles would angst about not having enough time with Seb (kinda canon) but would also try to understand his point of view and respect his wishes, even if it tore him up to eventually have to lose him.

Side note: in the context of Ferrari it cracks me up that the Big Bad ancient vampires that are responsible for maintaining law and order in the vampire world are based out of Italy, lmfao. Could also be the FIA and how they oversee everything. Michael Masi as Aro, anyone? ajsdjfed

[willwriteforhugs]

it’s not okay- hwang hyunjin

boyfriend! hyunjin x reader- one shot !

word count: 1.8k

genre: angst, a little fluffy, full of hyunjin-is-overprotective-syndrome

synopsis: when a stranger on the street makes you uncomfortable with his romantic advances, it takes everything hyunjin has not to kill him right then and there.

warnings: instance of harassment, a *brief* physical altercation, arguing, some cursing

a/n: this fic was requested by a lovely anon! sorry about the wait- i hope you and everyone else enjoy this one. i definitely got carried away with this, but hopefully it’s still what was requested lol. also, if you all have any other requests, feel free to send them in. i like to know i’m writing what you all want to see.

one last thing: a quick disclaimer- all of the events in this story are fictional, and should be taken with a grain of salt. everything that happens here is just my own interpretation of the situation i was presented with. anyways, thank you sm for reading! 

- - - 

the streets around you bustle with noise. mothers calling for their wandering children, street vendors shouting out prices... the sheer volume of it almost overwhelms you. at your side, your right hand tightens around your boyfriend’s. the last thing you want is to lose him in the crowd... he gives you a gentle squeeze back. words weren’t exchanged, but you understand what he meant: it’s okay, i’m right here.

you really are not a fan of crowds- you never have been, but hyunnie loves the market- and you do too, when it isn’t this packed. but he’s been so busy lately,  and the two of you hardly get to go on dates anymore... so when he’d proposed this as how he wanted to spend the afternoon, you couldn’t help but agree to it.

you glance up at him, thankful for the opportunity of distraction. you and hyunjin have been together for more than six months now- and god, you have never been more in love. you’d been in love before- or at least, you think you had. but being with hyunjin... it’s just not the same. the feelings you have for him are ten times the feelings you’d had for anyone back in high school. of course, maybe it’s just because he’s so damn beautiful...

today, for a simple market day, your counterpart is dressed casually. he’s in a plain hoodie and jeans, with his shoulder length hair tucked into a beanie. his face is bare, and you can’t help but smile just by looking at him. 

your boyfriend smiles back, looking slightly baffled. “is there something on my face?”

you snort and shake your head. “i can’t just look at you?”

he narrows his eyes playfully. “absolutely not. it makes me suspicious.”

you roll your eyes. “you spend too much time with the boys. i’m not gonna flick you, you know.” you pause. “or shove tissues in your mouth.”

at this, hyunjin huffs a laugh. “alright, that one’s true.”

hyunjin then leads you into a left turn, heading towards a vendor selling fresh hotteok. you follow willingly, realizing that you are indeed a bit hungry. as always, he knew exactly what you needed before even you did.

as your boyfriend places an order, you wander a few feet, wanting to glance into the stall next to you. in order to do so, you have to slip behind the first stall, into a small alleyway that borders the back part of the vendor lines. you peer over into the stall you were looking for. they’re selling handmade dishes- and from what you can see as you strain you neck over the stall, they’re absolutely gorgeous. dainty tea sets made of impossibly thin porcelain line the tables. the intricate floral designs catch your eye, and you know hyunjin would love to look at them. you turn quickly, mouth already forming his name.

“hyunjin-ah, i- oh!” you interrupt yourself with your surprise. in your rush, you’d turned around and run right into another person. your face floods with heat, and if you could, you would have shriveled up and died right there.

“i’m so sorry,” you mumble, bowing frantically. you eyes burn holes into the ground. “i wasn’t paying attention.”

“it’s fine, really.” a masculine voice replies. 

you look up, shocked to see that the person you’d run into is a man, and he looks to be around your age. “oh. okay.”

the man is tall- taller than hyunjin, even. he’s got an angry look to him, and you take a step back. but he just smirks. “i didn’t mean to scare you.”

he leans against the wall, crossing his arms together. you watch as his eyes rake over you and your body, and you shrink away.

you press your lips together, and the anxiety from before begins to claw it’s way back into your mind. “it’s fine, seriously.” your breathing is uneven, and you desperately want to get back to hyunjin. “but i kinda have to go...”

the man, who is blocking your way, doesn’t budge. “so soon? why don’t you stay and talk with me? you’re so cute, i just gotta get your number, babe.”

your body jerks in reaction to the pet name. who the hell is he calling baby?

you inhale sharply. “please- can i just get by? i’m really alright.”

the stranger takes a step towards you. “come on, why are you so shy? it’s harmless flirting, love...” he reaches out and takes a hold of your wrist. your facade crumbles, and your vision begins to close. you become hyper-aware of how alone you are back in this alleyway. you quickly jerk your hand back, and he relents, freeing your hand. “so jumpy! why? how about we go get a coffee? i know a place, it’s just ten booths-”

“who the hell are you?”

the voice is sharp and temperamental, and beautifully familiar. you hear yourself breathe a sigh of relief. hyunjin's here. thank god.

your boyfriend is now standing a few feet away, sporting an expression of anger and wariness. his eyes flit to the man, then to you. though he doesn’t say it, you can practically hear his voice, asking if you’re okay.

the strange man- who is still standing far too close- speaks up, voice brimming with cockiness. “why do you care?”

you physically cringe at those words. good luck with that one, dude. you just threw gasoline on an open flame.

“get the fuck away from my girlfriend.” hyunjn’s voice is low, but the impact of the words is louder than bombs. his face has gone from wary to furious. “don’t make me say it again.”

the creep takes a step away from you, moving towards hyunjin. “why are you so pissy, pretty boy? got that much to lose?”

you can see the clockwork in your boyfriend’s mind turning. calculating the outcomes. 

before anyone can move to stop you, you dart across the apparent no-man’s-land, coming to a stop at hyunjin’s left shoulder. you reach out and rest a hand on it, hoping the action conveys your feelings. when he doesn’t respond, you lean forward and hurriedly whisper in his ear; “please, hyunjin-ah. i’m alright. let’s just go.”

the boy brushes your hand away, and maintains his silence.

“hyunjin.” you say, louder this time. “it’s okay.”

this time, his narrowed eyes flash. “what-no! it’s not okay!” he swivels to face you. “what about that was okay?!”

your chest clenches, and your hand slips forward to clutch at his shirt. your voice comes out cracked. “please, let’s just go.”

the stranger watches the whole interaction with an amused smile on his lips, and the looks sends chills up your spine.

after a moment, hyunjin takes a deep breath and raises his chin. “you’re right, y/n-ah, i’m sorry. let’s just go, my love.”

as the two of you turn to go, the stranger shouts at hyunjin’s retreating back. “where are you going? i didn’t even get your bitch’s number!”

your skin goes cold, and you can feel your boyfriend turn to stone next to you. you inhale, reaching out to stop what you know is inevitable. 

hyunjin makes a slow turn on his heel. his gaze is icy, and his tone is even colder. “what the hell did you just say?”

the other man scoffs, and it randomly occurs to you that he might be drunk. or, you think; maybe he’s just a pervert, y/n. 

“i said, i didn’t get your bitch’s phone number.”

hyunjin is silent and frozen for a moment. then, with no preamble, he lunges forward. 

“hyunjin!” you yelp. but you know- you know there’s no stopping what’s next.

his punch hits the man square in the jaw, and his opponent goes stumbling. you lurch forward, terrified of this escalating. 

without looking, hyunjin catches you with his arm and gently shoves you back. 

he refocuses on the man on the ground, who is struggling to get up. when he gets close, hyunjin pushes him back down. you watch as he comes to a crouch in front of the fallen man. he hisses his words through his teeth: “don’t you ever say that shit. calling my girlfriend a bitch... unless you want to get your poor fucking ass handed to you, you never say shit like that again.”

your mouth hangs open in shock, and you stumble forward again, pulling your boyfriend away before he does something he regrets. you drag him back through the booths, and you emerge back at the front of the hotteok stand.

as soon as the connection breaks, hyunjin’s anger disappears, and he looks almost surprised. he reaches over and grasps your hand. “y/n- are you alright?”

you sigh, and even as your eyes sting slightly, you nod your head. the creepy man hadn’t followed the two of you, but you still feel the need to run. you release a shaky breath. 

hyunjin leans down and plants a light but lingering kiss of your forehead. when he pulls away, he sighs against your hair. “i’m sorry,” he whispers.

“for what?” you prompt, whispering back.

“for getting carried away. i...i didn’t mean to.”

“it’s okay. i know.” you lean away to meet his eyes. “besides, he was scaring me. so... thank you.”

he offers a bittersweet smile. “okay, baby...” he pauses for a second. “let’s go home?”

you allow a real smile and nod. “yeah. i’d like that.” you pause, deciding to tease him a little. “will you promise to stay and cuddle?”

at this, your lover’s moment of melancholy breaks too. “yes..” he fakes a groan. “if i have to...”

you reach down to hold his hand as the two of you begin walking, initial plans long forgotten. you begin to bicker back. “oh, please. you really act like you don’t enjoy skinship with me.”

he pauses. “how do you know it’s not just to get in your pants?���

you gasp and smack his arm. “don’t say that! i’ll never sleep with you again if you say shit like that!” 

hyunjin laughs, and his real, genuine smile warms your heart. “well then i guess i’ll stop. but only because of that threat.”

“oh, really?” you raise your eyebrows.

he gives up immediately, his forehead crinkling slightly. “no. i love you, y/n. i really do. and i promise i will give you all the snuggles when we get back.”

you nod, then lean your head on his arm, inhaling his scent. you’ve never been more grateful for him. 

the two of you continue walking, hand in hand. it isn’t for another few minutes that he finally breaks the silence. “so- what do you want for dinner?”

the two of you burst into laughter when you realize you’d never even gotten your hotteok.