#[ the setting you see in fermata’s light one. /that/ setting. ]

[araneitela]

I should be asleep and absolutely cannot sleep. So while staring at the ceiling, all I can think about are two unrelated (superficially so) things, Mozart’s Lacrimosa playing during the Jepella Rebellion trailer, and Kafka’s gloves, or rather the barrier they so artfully create, and yet, absolutely not.

[vashatxt]

fermata - a kafka x himeko nsfw oneshot

In which Kafka really needs to see her ex girlfriend.

“No need for the mysterious introduction…,”

She replays Himeko’s words over and over in her mind, scoffing slightly at the memory of how her head turned away, refusing to even look Kafka’s holographic image in the eye. What is she, repulsive? Too crooked, aligned with the wrong side of history, a person beyond recognition? Or is it just hard for her to admit that they aren’t so different, because that would mean she didn’t have an excuse to hate her?

This is the calm before the storm. Things are alright, for now - Blade is home safe, Silver Wolf is amusing herself, and Kafka is awaiting further instructions from Elio. If she wanted to, she could set off and amuse herself for the evening. With her silk night dress slipping off of her shoulders, Kafka climbs off the bed and approaches the full-body mirror built into her wardrobe, admiring her reflection. Not too shabby, all things considered. And since she isn’t a bit tired, it would be a shame to waste such a pretty face. 

Kafka always comes up with creative ways to justify her actions; never quite ready to admit that Himeko has been on her mind ever since that day, that she’s been waiting for a chance to see her again. 

She lets the night dress fall to the ground, swapping it for a form fitting black gown she hadn’t had a chance to wear yet; subtle shimmering jewels sewn into the fabric that are only noticeable when the light hits as she moves. Elegant, expensive, classy. Getting dressed is the easy part, Kafka has something for almost every occasion, and she’d be lying if she hadn’t had Himeko in mind when she’d bought this particular outfit. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw it, it was so reminiscent of the one she wore the first night they met. Gosh, that really was…

A long time ago. Kafka shakes her head to rid her brain of any delusions that history might repeat itself. Himeko could tell her to shoo, insist that she doesn’t want to hear what Kafka has to say - this is the most likely scenario, so what’s the point in setting herself up for failure?

Still, though. Kafka dusts her cheeks with some highlighting powder and drags a dusty rose gloss across her lips; they look plump and puckered and stand out pretty against her pale skin - it’s been a long time since she’s made such an effort to look pretty, so there must be a part of her that thinks she has a chance. She even finds herself humming a tune as she trims her nails, something from an opera that was popular in an ancient world. Himeko had always loved the music Kafka played for her, it was unlike anything she’d heard before. 

“Kafka?” A short, sharp knock precedes the sound of her bedroom door creaking open. “Oh, I apologise. I didn’t know you were going somewhere.”

“Nonsense, Bladie,” she shakes her head. “What is it?”

“I need to rest. It can wait, though.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’ll take two minutes. It’s what I’m here for, right?”

*** 

Kafka can’t help but feel sorry for Blade. After helping his body transition into a peaceful enough equilibrium for him to get some shut eye, and unsuccessfully trying to wave goodbye to an overtly-focused Silver Wolf, she disappears into the holding room and pictures her destination, hand firmly wrapped around the teleportation device. If she’s seen by the wrong people, she’s leaving the burden of retrieving her in the hands of those who she’s meant to be responsible for, for goodness sake. The implicit trust she has in her once-upon-a-time girlfriend to not turn her in is commendable, if not a little cocky. Coasting through life with a lot of faux confidence and little worry about what others thought of her has worked out pretty well so far, though, so why stop now? 

Plus, her wanted posters all depict her trademark sunglasses and long gloves as a ‘defining’ feature of the Stellaron Hunter Kafka, both of which she’s ditched for the occasion. She’s basically a new woman. 

Having a mental link to Stelle, her brave little trailblazer, comes in useful at the best of times, but especially now. Since everyone’s guard is down, recuperating after another successful adventure, it’s easier than ever to discern what the Astral Express crew are up to - and it’s clear to see that a few nights at the Goethe Hotel in Belobog to catch up with old friends are being enjoyed (almost certainly a Himeko-influenced decision). Kafka isn’t one to miss a party, so when she steps foot in the cold town square, she hurries to her destination. For a girl who owns a stupid amount of coats, it hadn’t occurred to her to bring one, perhaps because it would cancel out the sex appeal of the dress. 

“Are you staying the night, Ma’am?” 

The receptionist is old and kind sounding; squinting as if she’s half-blind. Threat level: low. It’s midweek, so the lobby isn’t busy at all. 

“I was hoping to have a few drinks before I head home, and I heard you serve a fantastic red,” Kafka flashes a winning smile. 

“Of course, dear. Just through to your right, the glass doors - it’s a quiet night, I hope that doesn’t put you off.”

“Nonsense. It’s just what I need.”

“Enjoy your evening, then.”

She half expects this plan to fail, that she’ll have missed Himeko, or that she won’t show up for a glass of wine before bed, but to her relief - a relief that feels a little like nerves - the familiar figure of a tall woman with red curls cascading down her back attracts her attention immediately. Himeko is carrying a fresh glass that she’d just collected from the bartender to her table in a back corner, right by a window that shows off the most spectacular view of the snow-dusted town. 

Deep breath, Kafka thinks, her feet suddenly feeling as heavy as slabs of concrete in her heels. First things first, a drink. She raises a delicate hand to get the attention of the guy Himeko had ordered from, and holds in a giggle as she watches his jaw basically drop. “G-good evening, Ma’am,”

“Your most expensive red, please,” Kafka interrupts him, just loud enough that Himeko glances over. “I’ll be sitting with my friend over there. Bring the bottle to us, if you will?”

“Something to celebrate?” His voice is high-pitched, ever eager to continue a conversation. Kafka just shrugs, signs a receipt and turns on her heel, making a beeline for Himeko’s table without another word. 

Her expression is unreadable. And that says a lot, coming from Kafka, who prides herself both on being able to read anyone, and being a bit of an expert on Himeko. They’d spent enough years together after all, sharing beds and kisses and thoughts and aspirations. Fears, even, Aeons; Himeko had so many. Was she still afraid of the shadow of death that she was so sure followed her, waiting to pounce? 

“Kafka, how -,”

“Hime,” she shushes her, pulling out a chair and sitting down, not bothering to wait for an invitation. “You look breathtaking, if I may say.”

“You - what are you doing here?”

Himeko doesn’t return the compliment, but that doesn’t mean she’s not staring. Her eyes are wide, unsure where to look. “Well?” She prompts. 

“I wanted to see you.”

“You risked your life to come here, and that’s the best excuse you can think of?” Himeko’s haughty laugh hasn’t changed, the one that only comes out when she’s exasperated or worried by something, and is doing her best to hide it. “Spit it out, Kafka.”

“I mean it.”

Himeko, look at me, she thinks to herself. How much easier this would be if she could use her powers, but Kafka would never dare. If Himeko is ever going to trust her, no longer be repulsed by her, it would only matter if it was on her own terms. Anyone can be manipulated. 

“This has nothing to do with work,” Kafka adds, steadily. “I have no agenda at this moment in time. Have you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You misunderstand,” she allows a hint of sadness to seep into her voice. “Like you said, I have risked a lot to be here. Quite frankly, it’s almost like I have a deathwish.”

The bartender approaches, and silence falls as he pours two glasses half-way with red wine and leaves the rest of the bottle in the center of the table, before nodding a thank you and goodnight. 

It’s only when he’s completely out of earshot that they pick up their drinks, almost simultaneously. Kafka smirks. 

“So I’m supposed to believe you’d risk your life to make small talk with little old me? How romantic, Kafka. You really know how to flatter a woman.” 

“Don’t act surprised.”

Himeko rolls her eyes. “I’m not fraternising with the enemy. No matter how hard you try to play me, us being on opposite sides means I won’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth. Your loyalty lies not with me. You made that crystal clear.”

It’s a good thing Kafka can’t feel hurt, because if she could, her heart might ache. 

“It was never a question of loyalty. And I repeat, you and I are not enemies.” 

Kafka wonders how it would feel to reach over and boldly take her hand, as if things were still the way they were all those years ago. Himeko’s hands are perpetually cold, so Kafka used that excuse to keep their fingers permanently interlocked whenever they were together. Even when they were in bed, and one of Kafka’s hands was tangled up in Himeko’s hair as she buried her face between her thighs and drove her crazy with how her tongue would tease her clit, the other would be holding hers. Even when they worked side by side, even when they sank into a relaxing bubble bath together. 

Her hand feels so naked without Himeko’s. 

“Kafka,” she says, snapping her out of her fantasy. “In all seriousness, please, if you know what’s good for you - there are Silvermane guards all over the place, and they take wanted posters quite seriously around here. You’re a dead woman walking.”

“Then turn me in. Isn’t that what you’d be doing if I were any other enemy? Heck, if it were Blade or Silver Wolf here, what would you think? My appearance has intrigued you, though. You’re struggling to make sense of this situation. Was I sent because I know you better than anyone else? Or… am I really just here to see you?”

“Enough games, Kafka,” Himeko throws her head back in exasperation. “What can I do for you?” 

“I miss you. So, if you feel the same way, you’ll grab that bottle I bought for us to go, and show me to your room.”

They finally lock eyes. Kafka raises an eyebrow, Himeko tries to speak, but Kafka leans across the table and presses her finger to her lips. “No lies. Not tonight.”

***

It’s room 209. 

Himeko leaves the wine on her bedside table, and only turns to look at Kafka when the old door finally swings closed behind them. It’s a suite; but she doesn’t have much time to appreciate her surroundings, because now that they’re alone, the electricity is intense. Something seems to change; Himeko’s shoulders drop as if she’s letting go of something - fear, anxiety, those normal human emotions that are designed to hold you back and keep you alive - and then…

Kafka is taken by surprise as she moves across the floor towards her, her arms wrapping around her waist. “Hime…,”

“Shh,” she blinks, finding the tiny zip holding up her dress and pulling it down, painfully slowly, not breaking eye contact the entire time. The strapless gown falls to Kafka’s feet once Himeko lets go of the fabric. “Just like the first night we met. Black looks good on you, but you look so much better wearing nothing at all.”

And that’s when they kiss. Kafka is hungry; she tangles her hands in Himeko’s hair and pulls her close, sucking and biting at her bottom lip. Himeko presses her knee between Kafka’s thighs, the pressure at her crotch making her gasp. It’s been so long… they break apart for a moment, both unable to hide their smiles. 

Kafka takes a couple of steps back, allowing her to admire the view - because she knows she looks damn good. Tall and lean, lace maroon lingerie; a thong that only needs to shift an inch to the side to reveal her cunt, and how it aches to be touched by Himeko again. 

“You…,”

“I’m what?” Kafka licks her lips. “Tell me, Hime.”

“You’re divine,” she breathes. “I…,”

Kafka reaches behind her back to undo the clasp on her bra, then discards it alongside the puddle of black velvet that was once her dress. “I’m all yours. Just say the word.”

But Himeko doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. She simply closes the distance between them again, places her hands on Kafka’s boobs, gently playing with her nipples, before sinking to her knees. Even the feeling of her warm breath on her stomach as she kisses her elicits a moan from Kafka, as well as the sensation that her legs are turning into jelly. They shake and threaten to give up on her as Himeko runs her hands down her body, leaving them resting on her thighs; mouth still busy peppering kisses at her hip bone, her stomach, her mound. 

“Tease,” Kafka mumbles. 

“Mhm. I wish,” Himeko doesn’t flinch when Kafka grabs her hair again. “I’m much too impatient to ever become the tease in this relationship. You know that.”

“Damn right I do, my pathetic little angel,” Kafka pouts. “You wanna touch me too bad, don’t you?”

“Kafka-,”

“Tell me. Tell me you missed me.”

“I missed - I miss you. I miss you every day…,” Himeko mumbles into Kafka’s skin. “I wanna taste you again, feel you again…,”

“I’m all yours, baby girl.” 

Kafka continues to shush her as Himeko slides her thong down and nuzzles into the warmth of her pussy. Kafka can’t help but clench her thighs at the feeling; Himeko doesn’t waste any time, she wraps her lips around her clit, and gently sucks - Kafka balls her hands into fists, it’s so overwhelming, especially after so long, and the fact that it’s unmistakably Himeko and this is real life, not a sweet dream that she’ll wake up from too soon, fuck - Kafka thrusts her hips forward gently, urging Himeko on, telling her she needs more, she wants more. 

“Good girl,” Kafka says, with a hitched breath as Himeko reads her signal and immediately slides two fingers inside of her while her tongue continues to work her clit. She pumps in and out, slow and hard, and they fall into a rhythm together. “Oh, Hime, fuck -,”

“That feels good, doesn’t it, Kaf?” Himeko whispers, leaning back so she can look Kafka in the eye. “You love having me all to yourself, don’t you?”

“Fucking hell, Himeko, don’t st- please - oh,” Kafka gasps when she doesn’t hesitate to bury her face back between her thighs, at the same time as she adds a third finger, stretching Kafka’s cunt. It hurts now, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to tell her to stop, in fact, she’s pretty sure Himeko is going even faster now; and she’s so wet, so desperate for her… “Hime…,”

“Mhhm?”

“Not like this. Don’t - don’t make me cum… like this… I need to see you… I want you…,”

Kafka stumbles backwards, to Himeko’s dismay, and tugs her by the hair. “Himeko. On the bed. Now. And take that dress off.”

She looks better than ever. Or perhaps memory had just diluted her beauty, to spare Kafka the hurt of having to leave Himeko behind, because what kind of an idiot could turn their back on a Goddess like her? Kafka nods towards the bed, and Himeko obediently climbs up onto it, her head hitting the pillows and legs spread, waiting. Kafka follows, her heartbeat echoes in her ears when she sees how Himeko smiles; she positions herself until she’s straddling one of her thick thighs; and gently grinds against her. 

“Kafka…,”

“Fuck, I could make myself cum just doing this,” she picks up speed, rocking back and forth. “You feel how wet I got for you, Hime?”

“I do, I do… you want me so bad, I know… but please… I need you to feel what you do to me, too, Kafka…,” she whimpers. “Please.”

Kafka nods, and gently slips two fingers between her lips; trailing against her clit first before pushing them right up into her cunt. Himeko bites her lip and mumbles her name as Kafka rides her thigh and fucks her simultaneously; Himeko reaches up almost out of instinct to grab her tits. It’s funny, it’s always been Kafka who was obsessed with her girlfriends - ex girlfriends - boobs, soothing herself to sleep many nights with her lips around her nipple, suckling happily, but tonight it doesn’t matter, because they want all of each other. Every inch of the other girl. “Yours,” Kafka reminds her. “Yours. There’s no rush.”

Himeko starts to breathe deeper and deeper, Kafka’s fingers making her feel so full that every time she pulls out just a little, the empty feeling is a hollow ache. “Kafka, I, I think I’m close…,”

“Good, baby,” she feels a shiver down her spine. “Come on, keep going, I wanna feel you clench around me and fall apart for me, come on Hime, you’re such a pretty girl, aren’t you?” 

“Kafka -,”

“Himeko,” Kafka swallows a lump in her throat, she can feel the heat and the familiar butterflies in her stomach as she desperately grinds against her thigh. “Fuck, Hime, I want you to cum for me so bad, please, I need you, I need you to spill all over my fingers, I -,”

“Kafka!” 

Himeko buries her face into the pillow beside her to muffle the sound of her screaming Kafka’s name. As she lets go, falling over the edge, her entire body trembles, and she clenches around Kafka’s fingers and then lets go, the warmth of her slick coating them and spilling from her. 

Once she’s finished riding it out, and catches her breath, she opens her eyes and looks right into Kafka’s. It’s only then that she pulls out and raises her hand to her mouth, sucking her fingers dry.

“Oh, Kafka, you look so hot when you do that,” Himeko is still breathless as Kafka rolls onto her back beside her and puts her arm around her, pulling her into her chest. 

“You taste amazing,” she presses a kiss to her forehead. “So worth the wait.”

Himeko is exhausted, anyone can tell, but Kafka is endeared by her attempt to go again; feeling her squeeze the inside of her thighs. “You’re insatiable, Hime,” she teases. 

“I wanna see you, too.”

“See me what?”

“You know. I wanna make you cum for me.”

“We have all night. I made no promises to be home by any certain time.”

Himeko doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t put a downer on things. Kafka is grateful for that - maybe this is what they both need. A night of bliss. A night of going back in time, a night of remembering what they once were, what they both know they should be. 

She watches her beautiful girl drift off, her head still on her chest. When Himeko’s breathing is finally slow and deep, and Kafka can be sure she’s having the sweetest of dreams, she slips her hand between her own thighs to relieve her aching clit. It doesn’t take long - her wrist aches, rubbing in wide, fast circles until she can’t take it anymore, she pictures Himeko’s face as she had cum for her, focuses on the feeling of how their bodies are pressed together, and cries her name aloud as she cums; pressing her thigh together and trapping her hand in position to force herself to ride out every overstimulating, incredible second of her orgasm. “Hime…,” she swallows, still repeating her name until the last second. 

Within minutes, she succumbs to a sleep, and it’s the best she’s slept in years. 

[jamaisjoons]

once upon a fantasy | mlist.

Once upon a time, in an ordinary forest, and within an unassuming thicket of trees, lies a mystical entrance - one blanketed in moss and overgrown with leafy foliage; an entrance that has long since been forgotten by the unyielding of time. However, should an unknowing traveller stumble upon it, should an unaware person enter it, the entrance would work its magic and transport them into the Enchanted Forest that bordered the fabled kingdom of Far Far Away, a realm rife with wonder, magic, and fantasia. Within the land of Far Far Away anything is possible: Knights and Princes break the curses that afflict their Princesses, the Big Bad Wolf and the Gentlemanly Fox fall in love, Royal Bastards and Court Maidens become Crown Princesses, and of course, captive Princesses find their freedom. But most importantly, regardless of the lives they lead, they live Happily Ever After.

It happens once upon a time; it’s felt twice upon twin beating hearts. The forest welcomes you to its world of myth and whimsy, where fables untold and long unspoken seek to enthrall and enrapture the unsuspected. Are you brave enough to trifle with the creatures found within? Are you kind enough to love the men and women whose curses and wishes are bound by the light of the moon? If you think your heart strong, come forward, come in. Each world has been curated by an author of magic, willing you to join the adventure.

Welcome to Once Upon a Fantasy! A collaborative event between a set of truly wonderful authors in celebration of all things fantasy, fairytales and romance hosted by yours truly! 

NOTICE: ALL FICS CONTAIN SMUT. MINORS DNI.

⟶ AO3 Masterlist

⁂ oath in the moonlight

⤑ pairing: crown prince!namjoon x cursed maiden!reader ⤑ genre: angst ∴ fluff ∴ smut ⤑ tropes: royalty au. fantasy au. strangers to lovers au.

❝ Namjoon is running - from lots of things. From his parents, from his responsibilities as Prince, from the ever looming requirement to choose a Crown Princess before his father's advisors challenge his right to the throne. Namjoon is running, and he is running directly to you - a maiden cursed to walk between the moonlight, a maiden cursed to love only in the dark. ❞

⏤ Based on Swan Lake; As Narrated by @jamaisjoons​

➵ Read Here

⁂ what time is it mr fox

⤑ pairing: fox!seokjin x curvy!reader ⤑ genre: angst ∴ fluff ∴ smut ⤑ tropes: hybrid au. fantasy au. forbidden lovers au.

❝ Castle Fox chimes thrice every night. Curious as to why you’re the only one stirring awake, you decide to investigate. You regret to not doing so sooner. ❞

⏤ Based on The Tale of Mr Fox; As Narrated by @inkedtae​

➵ Coming Soon

⁂ the bedroom hymns

⤑ pairing: faerie prince!yoongi x princess!reader ⤑ genre: angst ∴ fluff ∴ smut ⤑ tropes: faerie au. royalty au. fantasy au.

❝ Being the only daughter of the Wicked King has kept you living in a sheltered life. Never once you were given the chance to see the world beyond the walls of your father’s old castle, and yet, it had never stopped you from hearing all the dark rumours of your father’s indiscretions which had left you to continue living in the shadows.

When the war comes, your father sends you to live in his castle by the sea for hiding and he left you with a new rule set in place. You are left with a set of keys, one which would lead you to travel through the thousand magical doors inside his castle, but you are to never leave through the front door or to step foot through the golden door at the end of the hall. The magical doors become your escape, giving you the chance to see the world that you had never seen before. Until one day, your life changes as one of the magical doors leads you to the Fairy Prince. The story is about the Fairy Prince, the sheltered Princess, and the encounter that shall lead you to lose yourself in the throes of passion, before revealing your father’s deepest and darkest secret of all. ❞

⏤ Based on Bluebeard; As Narrated by @yoonia​

➵ Coming Soon

⁂ fermata

⤑ pairing: emperor!hoseok x court musician!reader ⤑ genre: angst ∴ fluff ∴ smut ⤑ tropes: royalty au. fantasy au. childhood friends to lovers.

❝ All your life, you and Hoseok swore you would marry. As children, it was easy to believe - no child ever really pays attention to their title. As adults, you find it harder and harder to believe he will find a way to convince his father to let him marry a lowly court musician. Ever the optimist, Hoseok remains undeterred, promising he is more in love with you than he as ever been. When Hoseok refuses an arranged marriage, the scorned princess uses her father's magic and learns to mimic your voice, your song, even your demeanour. Under her spell, Hoseok falls deeply and quickly. Heartbroken, you leave the kingdom. But when you learn that Hoseok has fallen deathly ill, it seems only you could be the one to save him ❞

⏤ Based on The Nightingale; As Narrated by @yeoldontknow​

➵ Read Here

⁂ the truth untold

⤑ pairing: high lord!jimin x royal bastard!reader ⤑ genre: angst ∴ fluff ∴ smut ⤑ tropes: faerie au. royalty au. fantasy au.

❝ For the last couple of years, the Autumn court has been waging war against the other fae courts until they all surrender to the rule of the faerie empire that the Autumn court is trying to build. In the Winter court, you have lived a harsh life as the High Lord's bastard daughter, one devoid of love and affection. When the Autumn court demands up a bride from the Winter court, for the first time in your life you are being seen as useful and being offered as your sister's replacement. There's no telling what the Autumn court will do to you once your deceit is discovered but all you can hope for is that your new husband is more forgiving than the icy royals who you've lived beside your entire life. ❞

⏤ Based on The Princess and The Pauper; As Narrated by @opaljm​

➵ Coming Soon

⁂ splintered hearts

⤑ pairing: knight!taehyung x cursed princess!reader ⤑ genre: angst ∴ fluff ∴ smut ⤑ tropes: royalty au. fantasy au. slow burn au.

❝ Taehyung knows little of the beast that lurks in The Black Forest; the stories his parents told him as a young child long forgotten in his memory. To this day, the village’s skeptics do their best to dismiss that such a beast even exists, that is, until the details of the Duchess' untimely death are revealed. When the Duke sets a generous bounty for the head of this monster, Taehyung knows it will be impossible to turn down this quest. He anticipates the hunt to be lengthy, tough at times, and even just a bit frightening. Though nothing quite prepares him for what he finds in those woods.... you. ❞

⏤ Based on Beauty and The Beast; As Narrated by @kookdiaries​

➵ Coming Soon

⁂ to find the sheep

⤑ pairing: werewolf!jungkook x village girl!reader ⤑ genre: angst ∴ fluff ∴ smut ⤑ tropes: werewolf au. fantasy au. childhood friends to lovers.

❝ Reluctant to lose each other, you and your childhood love, Jungkook, plan to run away together when your parents arrange for you to marry a wealthy suitor. However, a beast that hunts in the shady outskirts of your village causes distress among the community by killing one of your own members. Seeking revenge, the people call upon an infamous monster hunter who brings knowledge that the roaming wolf, whom the village maintained an uneasy truce with, may in fact be any one of them. A series of attacks continue to spring up with each passing moon, striking pure fear and panic. As the nights go by, you soon discover how the creature is relentlessly pursuing not just anyone, but you. ❞

⏤ Based on Little Red Riding Hood; As Narrated by @kimtaehyunq​

➵ Coming Soon

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 6

A/N Where does the time go?  I lugged my laptop 7,000km round trip with the sole intention of working on this fic, but that apparently didn’t happen.  For those who found the last chapter hard to bear, I apologize in advance.  I am not quite finished being cruel.  With that said, trigger warning for character death, childhood disease, suicide ideation.  The chapter title is Sleeping in the Clouds.

The first five chapters are available on my AO3 page.

Five Months Later

A persistent mechanical bleating lifted Claire from the indeterminate depths of medicated sleep.  The emergency contact number she provided to all her patients was programmed to forward to her mobile, where a particularly aggravating ringtone ensured she would never miss a call.  Even at one am on a Tuesday night.

Fumbling for the device, she glanced at the unfamiliar number before answering.

“Doctor Beauchamp speaking.”  Her voice was gritty and rough.  She reached for a half-filled tumbler of water while waiting for the caller to identify themselves.  Over the line she could make out muted traffic noise, and perhaps a distant foghorn, but no-one spoke.

“Hello?” she inquired, torn between concern that a patient needed her and frustration that she might have been woken by a misdialed number.

“If you’re one of my patients, you need to talk to me so that I can help you.”

There was an intake of breath, a weepy sniffle, and then the click of the call being terminated.  A prickle of gooseflesh washed over her.  She couldn’t say exactly how, but she knew who had called, and that he needed her.

One of the grim perks of her job was that she had backdoor access to reverse look-up for telephone numbers, in cases where there was a threat of self-harm or harm to others.  As Claire hastily donned socks and grabbed a winter coat, she waited on hold for the PSAP operator to provide an address.

“We’re in luck, Doctor Beauchamp.  It wasna a mobile number.  In fact, tis a telephone booth.  Gote Lane, in Queensferry.  Down near the... umm, next tae the bridge.”

Without so much as a thank you, she hung up and frantically punched the app for an Uber.

Fifteen nail biting minutes and an excessive tip later, she stood in front of an empty phone booth.  Predictably, the directory had been torn out, leaving only a thin metal cord and car-key graffiti inside the cramped interior.  But on top of the phone itself she found a familiar ecru business card, her name and credentials embossed in black font.

“Damn it, Jamie,” she muttered to herself, palming the card.

If he’d hung up and started walking towards the bridge, she might be able to catch him if she ran all out, but something called her towards the nearby shore instead.

The tide was out, leaving a narrow strip of beach and sharp, slimy rocks exposed to the heavy air.  Her nostrils were assaulted by the briny vegetative rot of the retreating sea.

On a weathered bench facing the river, encircled by a cone of foggy streetlight, sat a man, his eyes trained on the smudgy lights of the Queensferry bridge hovering high above.  Even bundled in a heavy black jacket and watch cap, she would recognize his long limbs and the set of his shoulders anywhere.  She let out a long breath of relief.

She approached the bench cautiously, not certain if her presence would be welcome.  Instead of turning to greet her footsteps, Jamie addressed the bridge.

“Maggie passed t’day.  I called ‘cause I wanted ye tae know, but then I couldna find the words tae tell ye.”  Despite his refusal to look at her, his words were calm and without a hint of the bitterness she’d expected.

“Oh, Jamie.  I’m so terribly sorry.  I didn’t know her well, but she was a very special little girl who loved you dearly.”

He nodded in acknowledgement of her words, but didn’t reply.  She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, suddenly aware that she was still wearing her pajamas, her hair doubtless a veritable cumulus of tangled curls.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.  “I still have some contacts at the hospital, I could...” she broke off, knowing it was ridiculous to offer professional assistance when she’d been the one to sever their relationship.

“Would ye, if it’s no’ too much tae ask, would ye mind jus’ sittin’ here with me fer a bit?”

He finally turned to look at her, and she could see the spider web of red veins that surrounded his irises, testimony to his heartbreak.  His mouth, usually such an accurate barometer of his mood, was strangely inert.  She nodded, unable to deny him such a simple request.

It was the time of night when the daytime symphony of the city broke into its component parts, every passing car, every lapping wave a single instrument singing its own plaintive song.  They sat in silence for long enough that she could feel the damp creeping up the legs of her pajamas.

“Maggie loved tae cross that bridge,” Jamie said at last.  “She’d lower her window, rain or shine, and stick her wee arm out, sayin’ it felt like she was flyin’.”

Claire smiled at the image, trying to picture the little girl with the giant imagination.

“What colour was her hair, Jamie?” she asked.  “Was it red, like yours?”

“Nah, dark, like Jenny’s and our Da.  But wi’ curls like mine and my Ma’s.  A little like yours, actually, Sassenach.  That is, before the chemo took it away.”

She grimaced, not knowing what topic to choose that wouldn’t lead Jamie on a path directly back to his grief.

“She fought sae hard,” he continued before she could attempt another distraction, “but the cancer wouldna let her win.”  Tears were rolling down his cheeks, glinting in the sodium light like stars, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.  “She was the best person I knew.  Sounds strange tae say of a wee lass, but she truly was.  An’ it made me a better person tae love her.  What the fuck am I gonna do now?”

Jamie was looking straight at her, as though he truly expected her to offer useful guidance.  All her training, her professional distance, fell away in the face of one broken man.  She swallowed, searching for words that weren’t a platitude.

“You’re going to go on living, because she can’t.  Because your happiness, when you are ready to feel it again, will be a gift to her memory.”

Jamie sniffed, then wiped his sleeve across his face.  He placed his hand on the bench between them.  Without allowing herself to think, Claire reached for it, finding his skin surprisingly warm.  There was an agonizing fermata, when all the instruments held their breath, and then he turned his palm upwards to meet her own.  Beneath the fog the river slipped by, blending endlessly into the sea.

"Look, Jamie, I know it’s not the right time, but I want to tell you that I’m sorry.  For the way I treated you, and ended things, and...”

“Nay, Sassenach, it’s me who should apologize.  I had no right tae throw my diagnosis at ye like some kinda weapon.  An’ when I think of how I heedlessly brought up yer becoming a mother.  I, of all people.  Weel, suffice it tae say I’ve spent many an hour regretin’ my words an’ actions.”

She squeezed his hand, wordlessly declaring them equal in remorse.

“How have ye been?” he inquired, peering at her as though trying to read her state of mind on the planes of her face.  She chuckled, looking away when the intensity of his gaze became too much.

“About the same, I suppose.  Better some days than others.  Geillis has started ordering my lunches for me, so I no longer have any excuse not to eat.”  Jamie nodded, seemingly pleased with this news.

“And you?  Are you still seeing Dr. Rafferty?  I... uhh, I know his office requested your file.”

In fact, Giles Rafferty had called her the week after her confrontation with Jamie, wondering why his new patient’s record of treatment contained no more than his biographical details and the time and date of each of his appointments.  She told him the same thing she’d told Geillis when she asked the same question in significantly cruder terms: that her weekly interactions with Jamie had never led to a professional diagnosis or a recommended course of treatment.

“Aye. He’s a good man, although tragically immune tae my charms.  Unlike some.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Fraser,” she warned, although his rakish grin warmed her from the inside out.

“I’ll be darkening his doorway wi’ some frequency, after t’day,” he continued with a return to solemnity.

And yet you called me, Claire wanted to say, but didn’t.  When his beloved niece had slipped away, hers had been the number he had dialed, despite everything.  The very idea made her thoughts flit about like fireflies.

“I missed ye, Sassenach,” he confessed quietly after a time.

“I missed you too, Jamie.”

They sat together through the thin hours of the night, talking, sharing memories of Maggie, but mostly in silent companionship.  As dawn brightened the eastern sky, the fog began to lift, revealing an overcast sky.  The lights of the bridge blinked out, and the city’s music began anew.  Claire wished futilely that day would never break, knowing that it would bring them both the pain of two very different kinds of goodbye.

Her hand, when Jamie finally let it go, felt strange, as though it had been separated from its source.  She tucked it quickly into her pocket.

“I.. errr, I need tae be goin’,” Jamie said by way of apology.  “Ian and Jenn will be needin’ me.”

“Yes, of course.  I’ll just, um, call myself an Uber.”

They were both standing, neither seemingly knowing how to part.

Jamie opened his mouth, paused, shook his head in frustration, then looked away.  Her traitorous hand escaped her pocket and found its way to his chest.

“I’ll be thinking of you.  All of you.  If there’s anything, anything at all..”

“How long until your no’ my doctor anymore?  Ethically speakin’.”  He was looking at her in a way that made the fireflies whirlpool about.

“What?” she asked to buy herself some time to breath.

“Before I go an’ face everything that is wrong about t’day, I want tae ken, how long must I wait before I can kiss ye again wi’out riskin’ yer reputation?”

“There’s no written timetable,” she stalled.  “It’s a question of a doctor exerting undue influence or the exploitation of the patient’s trust, and there’s really...”

“Those rules are meant tae protect the patient, aye?  So I should be allowed tae waive them, no’?”

“Jamie...”

“Fine, let me rephrase my question.  Doctor Claire Beauchamp, when can I, James Fraser, ask ye tae look upon me as a potential suitor and no’ a former patient?  Six months?  A year?  Two years?”

“You really are the most infuriatingly stubborn man,” she huffed.

“Aye, I ken.  Sae, two years?  Do we have an agreement, Sassenach?”

“Fine, yes, two years, but Jamie, I don’t expect you to...”

A finger was placed across her lips, silencing her protests.

“Two years are naught if I can kiss ye again once they have passed.  Until then, Claire, please take care of yerself.”

She stood by the bench long after Jamie was gone, staring out across the river.  A flock of geese flew by in formation, broad wings nearly touching the surface of the water as it reflected the steel gray clouds above.  She thought of little Maggie, and her birdhouse surrounded by clouds.  A sob wrestled its way up her throat, surprising in its urgency.  And then, she allowed herself to cry.

[sitp-recs]

hello darling, I'd like to thank you for your commit in your blog and your recommendation, that are so precious for the fandom. About that if you don't mind, I'd would like to ask you some raccomandations for ones of my favorite trope: amnesia/lost memory. Thank you again <3 I hope you'l have a great day

Hi friend, thanks so much for the lovely words! I don’t read this trope very often but here are a few recs :) enjoy!

the shape of memory by hogwartsfirebolt (2022, T, 3k)

Harry's brush with death has left consequences. Thankfully, Draco is there to help him navigate the uncertain waters of his mind.

fermata by @onewhodiedyoung (2019, M, 6.5k)

They hit pots with cutlery to keep the quiet away, but they both knew that it would never tire, that it would always come back like a fox to a hen house.

Blue Vase by ivyblossom (2002, T, 4k)

The war is over; Harry has buried himself in the tedium of a job, Draco has lost himself in stale vengeance. When Harry loses his memory, Draco steps in to tell him an alternate version of their lives.

Memories Of You by tryslora (2012, M, 9k)

When Draco is injured and forgets their life together, Harry is willing to do anything he can to bring those memories back to Draco. He promised him forever, and that’s what he’s determined they’ll have.

Ship of Theseus by GallaPlacidia (2020, T, 18k)

When Harry gets amnesia and forgets he and Draco were ever married, he refuses treatment to remember.

Sleeping Dragon by Omi_Ohmy (2012, E, 20k)

When Draco loses his memory, Harry struggles to recognise the man he loves. As they get to know each other again, can Harry overcome his sense of loss? And will Draco ever remember that he loves Harry?

In Pursuit of Lost Marbles by Theartfulldodger (2021, T, 22k)

Every night after work, Healer Malfoy follows the same routine, beginning with a familiar flight of stairs that leads to the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's. With an air of professionalism, he introduces himself to Harry, his husband of seven years, when a memory curse makes Harry look at him like a stranger.

Haunt the corner of my eye by @harryromper (2020, T, 23k)

Harry’s life is very much on track. After a successful career as an Auror, he’s set to become the youngest ever Minister for Magic. But strange things are starting to happen at Grimmauld Place.

Welcome to the Broom Closet by incapricious (2007, E, 23k)

Harry thinks he knows how his life will go: Become an Auror. Marry Ginny. Have a family. But then he sees an advertisement in the paper that no one else can see, and his life is turned upside-down.

If Memory Serves by @dictacontrion (2014, E, 30k)

Maybe Draco wants to forget. Maybe it’s wrong to make him remember.

The Four Doors by @fluxweeed (2020, E, 48k)

It’s been four months since Harry lost his memory. Four months of dead ends and no answers. With time running out until his memories are gone for good, Harry agrees to a course of Legilimency therapy with a renowned specialist: Mind Healer Draco Malfoy.

Of Fates Entwined: A Story of Love Lost and Found by taradiane (2014, E, 51k)

Harry Potter vanished without a trace from his home on a warm summer morning in June 2004. This is the story of how a random visit in a cafe on the other side of the world, six years later, proved that the ties which entwine our fates together can never be broken.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by November Snowflake (2012, M, 57k)

When the long-missing Draco Malfoy turns up at a Ministry field hospital with amnesia, bitter Auror Harry Potter must confront the shadows of their shared past to shed light on a potentially deadly mystery.

Nor All That Glisters by @sweet-s0rr0w (2021, E, 116k)

Lonely and frustrated on house arrest, with no prospects for the future, Draco begins brewing Felix Felicis in an attempt to improve his lot. Just in the short term, of course. He isn’t a total idiot.

Close Behind by @oflights (2022, M, 134k)

To rescue Draco from the Underworld, Harry has to look forward. Unfortunately, Draco has to look back.

There Is Always the Moon by @firethesound (2016, T, 160k)

Draco's life after the war is everything he wanted it to be: it's simple, and quiet, and predictable, and safe. But when a mysterious curse shatters the peace he'd worked so hard to build, there's only one person he can trust to help him.

Twist of Fate series by Oakstone730 (2012, T, 315k)

Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness.

[ao3bronte]

Of Soulmates

A MariChat NSFW @mlsecretvalentine  Exchange Fic for Rikkapikasnikka on Ao3! I hope you enjoy it!

She’s always been what he’s needed. Even years later, he knows as much as the steam from her tea cup drifts away from her mittened hands in the breeze. He watches her from the battered remains of Notre-Dame de Paris, still unsure as to how to proceed; he knows now and he’s still kicking himself for not noticing sooner. She’s an indefatigable defender of justice and a tangle of limbs — she’s Ladybug in all her glory, standing on her balcony. 

They’re nineteen and still growing into the responsibility of wearing two completely different pairs of shoes. He never resents it, the constant push and pull of his career, his schooling and the miscreant mothman who tries to sever the strings that keep their lives together at every moment. It’s hell sometimes, but fighting Le Papillon always means he’s given the opportunity to see her take this chaotic world by storm; always victorious, always together.

He loves her deeply and Chat Noir aches with the desire to tell her. She’s known how he’s felt for ages so she shouldn’t be surprised that he’d eventually find himself here, pining over her civilian form from afar. Revealing her identity had been an accident in the depths of Paris’ underbelly, carefully hidden from every prying eye but his. She was furious, explicitly so, but not at him; they’d both been up to their necks in frog monsters when they’d sought refuge in the sewers, hitting the metal gangway just in time for her transformation to let up. 

Chat smiles into the wind. Just when he thought he had a handle on this messy, beautiful woman, she went and threw him off again.

Of course she’d turned out to be Marinette. Who else could she have possibly been? The puzzle slots into place with the ease of having already put the pieces together a thousand times. He’d long suspected it — even mused over it several times throughout the years — but to have her standing right before his eyes without the mask, without the suit, without the veil of courage as her most important secret laid bare and open between them...even in the middle of that riot of his thoughts, he still can’t seem to get her off his mind.

They’re by no means perfect, but they’re supposed to be one day. Soulmates. They’re soulmates. And finally, with purpose, he leaps off the roof.

“Funny meeting you here,” she says as he lands beside her in a crouch, balancing with practiced ease on the wrought iron railing. She must have already spotted him on the cathedral’s roof, giving her the upper hand. “I had a feeling you’d show up eventually.”

“I couldn’t stay away for long,” Chat admits, his lips quirking at the corners. “Besides, you’re the one who invited me over to talk.”

“I did.” She muses for a moment, painstakingly avoiding his gaze. “I wanted to apologize.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Chat replies, watching as the light of the setting sun dances off her hair. “You know how much I love you, right?”

Marinette’s cheeks flush pink with the weight of his words. “I know. I’ve always known.”

“Do you still want to talk about it?” he says, watching her with fascination. He wants to hold her to his chest; he wants to kiss the worry from her lips.

She hesitates a moment before reaching out. “Do you?”

“I think…” he trails off, the claws of his suit grazing the fabric of her winter coat. “I think this thing between us was always supposed to happen.”

A momentary beat of silence. 

“You’ve always been here for me. You’ve never stopped, even when I wasn’t sure what I wanted.” She inhales the evening chill as the sun begins its slow descent over the horizon. “Do you believe in fate?”

The soft music from a radio floats on a breath of wind, drawing them ever closer, ever nearer. “Always.”

Her smile is enough. “Would you like to come inside?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He follows her into her bedroom and slips his boots from his ankles, listening to their hollow thunk as they fall off the edge of her platform’s railing. This isn’t his first time visiting, nor will it be the last; no shoes on the bed — or anywhere in her house for that matter — is a rule long ingrained into their stolen time together. “Do you want something to drink?”

They’ve never been so cautious around each other and Chat desperately wants the glass to shatter between them. “No, thank you. I don’t want to see you go.”

“But you love to watch me leave.” Marinette rolls her eyes, reciting a line he’s told her a thousand times over. Chat snickers, loving the way it sounds from her lips. He wants to kiss those lips with every single breath he takes, the tension between them a fermata that resonates in decibels only they can hear.

“I’d like it even better if you stayed.” Chat cups her cheek gently, his heart hammering inside his chest as she turns her head into his palm. He loves her so much it distorts him to the very marrow of his soul. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Marinette says eventually. “You want to kiss me.”

Chat swallows thickly and nods, feeling himself shake a little at the prospect of it. Is this permission? Is this what heaven feels like?

“You can, if you want to. I’ve decided.” She peers at him from beneath her eyelashes and smirks like she’s just thought of something brilliant. He falls in love with her all over again when she gives him that look, the one that tells him he’s about to be tied to a kite or yeeted into the Seine to catch an akuma. She’s all mischief and temptation and he realises that she’s been planning this all along. She wanted him to come to her house tonight. She wanted him right here.

“Oh god,” he breathes, drawn into her web and entangled unequivocally. This isn’t the first time they’ve kissed but it’s going to be seared into his memory for the rest of his life because her lips and her skin and her tongue and everything is overwhelming his senses like a cloud of ladybugs, leaving him shaking and breathless and very much alive.

Marinette pulls away for a moment, their noses bumping against each other. “Come closer.”

Chat’s never been one to argue with one of her commands; she’s always been the brains in this operation. He pushes himself to his knees and suddenly she’s lying beneath him, her hair a halo in the dying light of the sun. She’s nothing short of Aphrodite and he’s been invited to dine in her presence, a spirit latched onto her flame.

“Kiss me,” she whispers and it sounds like a prayer. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Now those are orders he can follow.

Read the rest on AO3! (Rated E for Sexual Content)

[curiosity-killed]

evidence of a lost past part 5

chronologically after 1 & 2 and a bit before 4

fun fact of the day: Hua Cheng’s dancing to Lover’s Tears as performed by the Shanghai Conservatory Symphony bc it’s one of my favorite lazy improv songs

story tag

By the time seven comes around, Xie Lian’s legs are trembling with fatigue and his hair’s plastered to his forehead and nape. Winding lazily out of a renversé, he drops his arms and exhales. He feels...worn, gently pummeled like a sock in a washer or a stone along the riverbank. It’s been a while since he used his body like this—even these last few weeks of borrowing Hua Cheng’s studio have been more about relearning how to move at all, retracing the lines of the technique he’s let fall by the wayside.

Now, for the first time in a long time, he feels like he’s properly danced. The feeling buoys up in his chest, bright and a little heady. It still feels funny to break the rules he grew up with, to blend classical lines and break up languid adagio flows to hit the ground, but the way it leaves his body feeling exhausted and satisfied makes it hard to resist.

He takes a few minutes to stretch properly, working down from his neck to his feet and closing off with a short round of abs before he shrugs his sweatshirt back on, picks up his shoes by their heels, and goes to find Hua Cheng.

He’s lured up the stairs by the arching strains of strings and the low rumble of piano underneath. Wandering to the upper studio, he finds himself swaying absently to the three-four time as if the music itself is drawing him into a waltz. He hums softly along and turns the corner off the stairs to find the studio door propped open. Here, the music swells so loudly he can nearly feel it buffeting his body like ocean waves. He comes to a halt at the door.

Hua Cheng is alone inside, a single lean figure in the half-light of the studios. Only two of the four rows of fluorescent lights are on, and they form dim lines like walls of silk strings through which Hua Cheng weaves as precisely and deftly as if he were the shuttle, the hand shaping the cloth.

The choreography is some Xie Lian has seen before—today, even. On Hua Cheng, though, it is a wholly different creature than when He Xuan performed the same steps. He Xuan is a capable dancer, with strong technique, but it’s abruptly clear that he’s a younger dancer with less experience than Hua Cheng. Where He Xuan maintained the extended balances with a tight jaw and stiff shoulders and dropped from them gratefully, Hua Cheng suspends on the ball of his foot, drawing it out and slowing his extension till it seems he’s pushing the music, curving the song’s fermatas and languid sweeps.

In time with the trills and high ornamentation, he flicks through hand gestures in rapid succession while his legs sweep rond de jambs into a light leap off his left hand. The motion rolls him back up to the start, into the sequence that begins the entire pas de deux: a heavy step to the side, the sway of loose arms carrying him into a spin.

At this point in the piece, the dancer never looks to the downstage left corner, like it’s bad luck or a persistent blind spot. When He Xuan danced it this afternoon, the choreography had seemed awkward, the missing corner too self-conscious. Watching Hua Cheng now, though, Xie Lian’s heart aches. Hua Cheng pours himself into the movement, every reach a desperate plea, every sharp twist furious rejection. Standing in this absent corner, where Shi Qingxuan is to enter, Xie Lian suddenly understands why Hua Cheng has been so insistent about the facing. He bites the inside of his lip at the familiar welling of grief that laps at the insides of his ribcage.

Hua Cheng presses into a suspension with his leg nearly to his ear before dropping into a double turn as rushed and frantic as a hurricane. He stops sharply, finally facing the corner as his leg stretches back in an exquisite arabesque, his arms reaching forward as if begging an indifferent god. His gaze sweeps up and then catches on Xie Lian. Freezing, his eye goes wide, and he stumbles forward half a step, falling out of the final pose.

“Ah, I’m sorry, San Lang,” Xie Lian says, suddenly embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Hua Cheng shakes his head even as he rubs the back of his neck. Wiping his hand on his thigh, he gives a small shrug.

“Gege is always welcome,” he says, a little breathless. “I was just surprised.”

His hair’s coming loose from the ponytail, hanging in hanks around his face. With his t-shirt and bright eye, he looks softer than usual, and Xie Lian is briefly possessed by the inexplicable urge to hug him.

“Ah, it looks very beautiful, San Lang,” he says instead before pausing. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth before adding, “I think I see why you were dissatisfied in rehearsal.”

“Oh?”

Raising an eyebrow, Hua Cheng tilts his head to the side in open curiosity, and Xie Lian flusters. He’s still not used to such sincere consideration, to having his words listened to with such care. He scratches his cheek.

“Mn,” he says. “It’s just—you choreographed it with a more experienced dancer in mind, didn’t you?”

Hua Cheng blinks at him once, and Xie Lian mentally goes over his words before flushing. His hands fly up, trying to wave off the offense, and he nearly clocks himself in the face with his shoe.

“No, no, I don’t mean it like that! He Xuan is definitely experienced, too, and plenty capable,” he says in a rush. “Of course he’s a very skilled dancer—all of them—”

A laugh escapes Hua Cheng, and he crosses the space between them with two easy strides. Catching Xie Lian’s hand, he smiles at him. Although there’s amusement in his look, it doesn’t feel like he’s laughing at Xie Lian. It just feels—fond. Warm.

“Gege, it’s alright,” he says. “If you say it’s so, then He Xuan must really just be a useless upstart.”

The teasing edge to his tone is enough to cut through Xie Lian’s fluster, but he groans and buries his face in his free hand at the shameless teasing.

“San Lang,” he mumbles.

Hua Cheng laughs, bright and irresistible, and gives Xie Lian’s hand a gentle squeeze before letting go.

“Anyway, gege’s right,” he says, stepping back slightly and tugging the elastic out of his hair. “I didn’t choreograph it with He Xuan in mind.”

His hair falls to his shoulders, a little rumpled and wavy from being up, and briefly hides his face. As he drags his fingers back through the crown to retie it, Xie Lian cants his head and considers him. He Xuan is the most experienced of Hua Cheng’s dancers, along with Shi Qingxuan. Lan Chang is older, of course, but from what she’s said, she only dances for fun and to teach now. It would take months for her to build back the strength and stamina needed to perform.

“Why don’t you do it?” he asks.

Hua Cheng startles, looking up in surprise. Tightening the elastic, he dips his head a moment before shoving his ponytail over his shoulder to hang in a long line down his back.

“Ah, it’s silly. You’ll laugh,” he says.

“Noo,” Xie Lian insists, grinning. “I promise I won’t laugh at you.”

Looking at him a moment, Hua Cheng narrows his eye, but his lips press together like he’s suppressing a smile. He looks briefly skyward and takes a breath, losing his fight with the smile. Parting his lips, he draws breath to speak before pausing and letting it out in a quiet exhale as he settles his hands on his hips.

“Well. It’s a pas de deux,” he says, like that’s the end of it.

Xie Lian pauses, pressing his lips together and tilting his head. When no more is forthcoming, he can’t help the snigger that escapes him, and Hua Cheng shoots him a betrayed look.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh,” he chides, but there’s no heat behind it.

“I’m not, I’m not!” Xie Lian says, holding up his hands. “It’s just—you really dislike dancing with someone else so much?”

It’s not that Xie Lian would blame him, exactly: as skilled as his company dancers are, Hua Cheng is exceptional. Even with Lan Chang in the peak of her career or He Xuan at his finest moments, the pairing would still be unequal.

“Not exactly,” Hua Cheng hedges. He presses the toes of his left foot into the floor, arching the foot into an absentminded stretch. “It’s just—the one I thought of when I was choreographing isn’t an option. So to dance it with anyone else—they really can’t compare at all.”

Oh. Xie Lian swallows, startled by the sincerity of the explanation. That really isn’t anything to laugh about. He hesitates, chewing at his bottom lip and sneaking a glance up at Hua Cheng. This person Hua Cheng thought of—if Xie Lian ever knew them, they’ve been lost to time. The knowledge weighs like a stone anchor deep in the pit of his chest, but he tries to swallow it down. He’s being presumptuous, really. He shouldn’t make so many assumptions.

“Ah, then maybe we could figure out how to make it work for He Xuan and Qingxuan together,” he offers, tentative.

Hua Cheng’s expression softens, the hesitance fading into a gentle and welcoming warmth. Nodding his head decisively, he smiles.

“Gege has the best ideas,” he praises. “Where should we start?”

Setting his shoes and bag down by the wall, Xie Lian draws in a breath and steps more fully into the room. It’s not for him, to be lit up on the stage with hundreds of eyes glued to every articulation of his hands and feet—but maybe he can still help Hua Cheng, if only by being a second set of eyes.

“Ah, the a la seconde turn that turns into a tilt?” he suggests. “The floor sequence after that seemed to give He Xuan some trouble.”

Hua Cheng nods and rolls his shoulders once before moving back into the center of the space. Starting a few steps ahead, he glides through the movements as naturally and confidently as if they were the only way his body knows to move, as if fit to his long limbs by the finest of tailors. Xie Lian offers advice and suggestions where he thinks they might better shape the choreography to He Xuan’s own movement, but it seems a quiet kind of betrayal.

Watching Hua Cheng dance, Xie Lian doesn’t want to see the piece altered or made for another. He wants to see it like this, like it was meant to be, with Hua Cheng alone in the thin light and the corner empty, open, waiting.

[aahsokaatano]

ITALY????

Y’all I spent one whole week in Italy in 2017 and it was one of the most bizarre fucking weeks of my life

let’s break it down from the beginning

[under a read more for length]

So, fall of 2017 I was studying abroad in London. One of the classes I was taking was specifically for study abroad students, designed to get us engaging in the culture of London or whatever i dont really remember the class itself but my god do i remember the people i met in it

two in particular were these girls, also American. We shall call them Molly and Ally. They had quickly made friends with each other, and after one of the class trips into London, i was friendly with them as well. The “reading week” or fall break was coming up, and they mentioned that they were going to Italy and asked if I wanted to go. I had booked a short tour to Dover, but thought “oh my god Italy???? Fuck yes!” and so I bought my plane tickets then asked them where they had booked hotel rooms so that I could add myself to their itinerary

“Oh,” Molly said, “we haven’t, don’t worry about it”

Me, a seasoned traveler “?????? uh”

I bugged them about this for at LEAST a week and finally, about THREE DAYS from when we were supposed to leave, I just went ahead and booked an assortment of hostels and airbnbs for us in all the cities they wanted to go to and told them to pay me back later

they actually admitted afterwards that that had been a smart move on my part which like????? no SHIT its a smart move to have a plan where you’re gonna sleep every night while in a foreign country. god.

So, lets go through this day by day

Day 1 - London to Milan

we flew from London to Milan in the evening, getting there pretty late at night. and it was only once we were actually IN Italy that I learned that 1) none of us spoke Italian and 2) despite having grown up in two areas with large Hispanic populations, neither Molly or Ally spoke a lick of Spanish, which is close enough to Italian that you can kind of limp through a conversation of one if you know the other.

so, somehow, I ended up being our Italian translator for the week, armed with nothing but a translator website, a handful of Italian music terms, and the ability to roll my r’s fairly well for a white person. Literally, i figured out where the bus stop was outside of the airport because I saw the word “fermata” painted on the pavement and I knew that meant “long pause” in sheet music terms so I hazarded a guess it meant stop or similar in regular Italian

(sidenote I almost got in a fight with some random Italian dude on the bus because Molly was going on about how excited she was to try the pizza and I told her it wasn’t going to be the same because “the pizza you’re used to is an American invention” and he turned around and started going on about the tradition of pizza in Italy and I was like I just mean that American pizza is different from real Italian pizza i did not mean to offend i’m sorry!!!!!! anyways)

the bus dropped us in a square in the middle of Milan and we got out and i’m lookin at my airbnb app trying to figure out where we need to go and i said “okay we need to get a cab” and Molly and Ally are arguing about something and this RANDOM ASS DUDE walks up to us and is like “you need taxi?” and i said yes to he leads us back to his REGULAR ASS CAR, NOT A TAXI and tells us to get in, and for some unknown fucking reason I do and Molly and Ally follow me and shut up real fast because this is sketchy as fuck but the guy did take us to the airbnb without murdering us so thats a win i guess

The airbnb by the way was more like a mini hostel - it was this apartment where pretty much every room except the bathroom had been converted into a bedroom and so probably not entirely legal but whatever. whatever. 

Day 2 - Milan to Venice

i woke up early the next morning and went to take a shower at the bathroom at the end of the hall and found out that the lights didn’t work. Whatever, I’m mostly blind without my glasses anyways so i just showered in the dark, no biggie

we had an early bus to catch from Milan to Venice, so we headed out to the bus station. I’ll be honest, I do not remember how we got there. I think we walked, because I ended up with a coffee at some point so I probably got it from some cafe on the way? But idk. I was so tired.

We get on the bus, I found two empty seats far away from Molly and Ally, and immediately stretched out and fell asleep.

Ally woke me a little later and said “c’mon, we’re here!”

I was confused as all hell because it had not been nearly long enough for us to get all the way to Venice, but I got off the bus and was greeted by Molly stretching her arms out and proclaiming “Welcome to Venice!” underneath a sign that said we were at the Verona bus station.

They did not believe me when I said Verona and Venice were two different places. “Venice has canals, Verona is where Romeo & Juliet is set. There are no canals in R&J, they’re two different places!” I literally had to pull out my phone, go to google maps, and zoom out until they could see that Venice was still several hours away before they believed me.

The bus driver almost didn’t let us back on but I was able to show him on the tickets that our end destination was, in fact, Venice.

Venice itself was pretty neat. We got to go on a gondola ride and I ate an entire pizza by myself at dinner lmao.

Day 3 - Venice to Florence

we took a train from Venice to Florence the next morning, and that’s when I discovered that Italian train stations have lovely little cafes with AMAZING coffee and really good pastries. The other two didn’t drink coffee but like, their loss. it was fantastic. 

Florence was great, we found a little shop that sold really yummy gelato for only 1 Euro a scoop - Geletaria La Carraia. If you ever end up in Florence, definitely check it out!

We wandered around for a while, took a lot of pictures. There was some famous church that was undergoing some renovations, but as we walked up to it Molly gasped and said “I’ve climbed that in Assassin’s Creed!” which was pretty funny. 

We went to a museum that had made a bunch of models of some of Leonardo DaVinci’s inventions. We went to an art museum and stumbled across Michaelangelo’s David on accident, so that was the big “wtf” moment of the day. Also that night Molly decided to buy a bottle of wine to take home to a friend of her’s back in America, but realized after buying it that her backpack wasn’t big enough to cart it around for the rest of the week so I ended up carrying an entire fucking bottle of wine for the rest of the trip because I was the only one smart enough to bring a proper backpacking backpack and not just my school bag.

Also the hostel we were in had actual skeleton keys for their rooms and actual goddamn keyholes that one could clearly see through so i left the key in the lock all night AND hung my sweatshirt from the door handle so that no one could peek in at us

Day 4 - Florence to Pisa

once again, I woke up early, went into the bathroom attached to our room (the hostel had had a cancellation and so we ended up in a private room instead of a dorm style) and discovered that the lights didn’t work so I had a second shower in the dark

we took another train from Florence to Pisa, and there we ran into our only bit of bad weather

What’s the big draw in Pisa? The Leaning Tower, right?

What was the only day it rained, non-fucking-stop, the entire time we were in Italy? THE DAY WE WERE IN PISA

I got so soaked that I actually bought a new sweatshirt because the one I was wearing was DRIPPING

anyways, after we had taken several dumb touristy pictures and grabbed an early dinner at a nearby restaurant, we decided to head over to the room I had booked. The cheapest place I could find was a tiny cabin at a campground nearby. According to the map on my phone, it was a short walk away.

A solid hour later, we finally trudged up to the main office of the campground, shivering and soaked, and got the keys to our cabin. We set our stuff down, and Ally and Molly decided to go back out to the grocery store we had passed coming in. I waved them off and went to take a shower in the bathroom with fully functioning lights! hooray!

Day 5 - Pisa to Rome

another morning, another train station with excellent coffee. We got into Rome and, at this point, we were all so tired from travelling that I was finally able to take charge. up until this point, Molly had been railroading us, even sort of bullying Ally in the process, but now she was exhausted and I, through a combination of practice in functioning while dead on my feet, lots of travel experience, and Mom Friend Instincts, took the reins. We got to Rome and I said “we’re going to the church with the big hole in the roof (its a thing, look it up) and then we’re going to eat.... at this place around the corner and then we’re going to to go our hostel and check in”

they didn’t argue, and that’s a true testament to how fucking tired the two of them were, especially Molly, because she would argue about anything and everything given half a chance. We also went to the military museum that day, mostly because it was free and also air conditioned

(also while looking through my pictures of this trip i just discovered that i still have the picture i took of the Rome hostel FAQ page that had by the front desk, which i now remember i did because it had the wifi password on it and we weren’t in our room for 30 seconds before one of the other two asked what the wifi password was so, once again, i show that i am a very good traveler/travelling buddy)

Day 6 - Rome

so we had the next full day in Rome, and we got up early to get in line for the Vatican. I wanted to be there by 7am, Molly was like “it doesn’t even open until 9!” and we compromised at 8 and it was STILL an enormous line so i was like “see? this is why i wanted to get here early”

Oh, but before we went to the Vatican, i took a shower. IN. THE. DARK. BECAUSE ALL OF ITALY EXCEPT FOR PISA DECIDED THAT I DIDN’T DESERVE TO HAVE A SHOWER WHERE I DIDN’T HAVE TO FUMBLE AROUND BLINDLY LIKE AN ASSHOLE

ALSO on the way to the Vatican, I asked if the two of them had their passports. Ally said yes. Molly said yes, why?

And I had to then explain to Molly, a 20 year old RELIGIOUS STUDIES MAJOR, who was RAISED CATHOLIC and who had FAMILY IN THE CLERGY, that the Vatican, THE CENTER OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH, is it’s own country. 

she, again, did not believe me until i pulled it up on google for her

turned out that we didn’t need our passports stamped to enter the Vatican but still! still!!!!!

so it turned out that whatever day we were there on, the Sistine Chapel isn’t open that day, so we just walked through the cathedral and then headed out to the Colosseum and the ruins of the Senate behind it, both of which were very cool

Day 7 - Rome to Milan to London

we got up even EARLIER on our last day, I took another shower in the dark, and we rushed over to the Vatican, speedwalked through most of the museum, and finally got into the Sistine Chapel, which was absolutely breathtaking. Then we hauled ass back to the train station to catch our train back to Milan.

At this point in the trip, I was so fucking done with the two of them, but especially Molly. Ally was sweet and naive, but she was also willing to listen to new information. Molly was just a stubborn ass with a mean streak a mile wide and I was COMPLETELY done associating with her.

Luckily, since I had booked my flights separately, while we had flown into Milan on the same plane, I had a completely different flight back to London - to a different airport, even. They were going back to London City, but I was heading to London Gatwick. Both planes were set to depart around the same time, from two gates that were next to each other though, so i couldn’t really escape them until - uh oh! My flight was delayed. 

Molly and Ally were fretting about it but i was like “it’s fine. it’s fine. I’ve been flying since i was literally 3 months old and I s o m e h o w know more Italian AND Spanish than the two of you combined, even though I would never say that I speak EITHER of those languages. Just go.”

The flight ended up being delayed like 5 hours due to mechanical issues. They finally just got another plane for us, and we finally took off from Milan. When we went over Paris, the captain, obviously feeling bad about the delay, made sure to tilt the plane in both directions so that everyone could see the Eiffel Tower lit up, it was really neat.

We finally got back to London at literally like 230 in the morning. The busses and some of the trains weren’t even running at that point - certainly not all the way out to the fancy little liberal arts college I was going to. I went up to some security guard at the airport and said “just tell me how close I can get to the University of Roehampton on the trains” and he told me to take the train to Black Friars so I got out there and there was a bus, but it was like 40 minutes out. It’s now pass 3am, I am exhausted after a long, weird week in Italy, I texted my dad and he said “just get an Uber i’ll pay for it”

The Uber driver was very nice and as soon as I got in he said “you look really cold! do you want the heat on?” i could have fucking kissed him. he was super nice. actually made sure that I was still texting my dad (i had mentioned it when I got in because I almost dropped my bag while trying to text and maneuver at the same time) every few minutes. offered to let me take and send a picture of him to my dad. otherwise didn’t really speak and just let the music play. I tipped him literally whatever was in my pocket at that time, i don’t remember how much it was, but it was at least 20% and probably more. Really great guy. 

Random London Uber driver from 2017, you remain the best Uber driver and I love you

i finally crawled into my shitty little dorm bed at about 4am, exhausted and utterly bewildered by the past week

honestly??? I’m still bewildered by my week in Italy.

wtf even happened in all that mess.

[kyanako5972]

Behind Closed Doors, part 3

Press the start button. Okay. I’ll try to calm down.

I find the timer in the upper left corner. It reads five minutes. Five minutes? There are three modules other than the timer. I flip the box over and find three more. Six in total. We’re supposed to solve six modules in five minutes. I’ve beaten a level like that before, so why is my heart all the way up in my throat right now?

“Judith, are you okay back there?”

I push the button.

“The First Trial will now begin.”

First trial? There will be more? If we survive this, that is.

“Judith, tell me what you see.” I’m getting tired of Prof calling my name. Why does he want me to call him by his?

I look to the right of the timer. “Six wires.”

“What’s the serial number?”

The serial number is on the top side of the box. G#MAJ7 “G-sharp major seven.”

“If the serial number spells a chord that uses a double sharp, pull out the third wire.”

Suddenly I forget everything I know about music theory. “Does it?”

“Yes! Pull the third wire!”

Still in a daze, I pluck a yellow wire out of the box. The light in the upper right corner of the module turns green. I feel a tinge of relief.

“Next!”

“There’s a brown button in the lower left corner. It says ’sfz.’”

“How many batteries?”

I examine the box again. “Three.”

“Press it and immediately release it.”

Once I do that, another light turns green. I’m feeling a bit calmer now.

“The next one’s a set of square buttons with symbols on them.”

“Go on.”

“Fermata, eighth note, treble clef, accent.”

“Is the eighth note’s stem pointing up or down?”

“Down.”

“Fermata, accent, eighth note, treble clef.”

Three modules down. Three to go. We have time. I flip over the box.

“Simon Says.”

“Sharp in the serial number, no strikes. Black to white, white to yellow, yellow to black, keep brown the same.”

He said that a bit fast. Anyway, the black button is flashing, so I’ll press yellow-

BUZZ!!!

----

(I tried to make the modules a bit more musical. I wonder if it worked...

When it comes to professors, I tend to refer to them by their surnames and address them as “Professor.” They generally prefer to be addressed by their first names, though.)

[q-less]

Quentin swayed back and forth in his hammock, humming happily to himself as he listened to one of many songs about love he had on repeat that day. Metronome lay curled up on his stomach, Theremin floated around inspecting everything it could see, and Fermata stood a few feet away “guarding” the camp. Surprisingly, Quentin was excited for Valentine's Day. He knew that no matter how many people left him off their lists this year, he’d at least get one card from a very special person in his life...himself!

Metronome jumped down to greet the Delibird when it arrived. It squawked once, which caught Quentin’s attention, before flying off to deliver more Valentines. The scientist got out of bed and headed to where his pokemon were looking at the new deliveries.

“Oh boy! Two of them!” He said greedily rubbing his hands together before sitting on the ground and grabbing a small package with a letter attached. He read the note first...

A shiny new Pokeball with a Gastly inside, adorning a light purple ribbon. “Happy Valentines Day! I wanted to give her to you sooner but she just hatched last week. Her name is Salvia. -Morty”

“A Gastly? Just hatched?” Quentin questioned, looking at the Pokeball. He reached down to pet Metronome, who had curled up in his lap again. “Looks like you’re no longer the baby of the group.” He said with a light chuckle. The Espurr only responded with a small purr.

“I do have to say the name isn’t very good. Salvia? That’s not musical at all! And who the hell is Morty?” He said with a pout, before setting the Pokeball down again. He reached over to pick up the other Valentine that came. He excitedly opened it and read the contents.

From the day I met you at the battle frontier, I knew something was aloaf. My head got all dizzy for the first time in years and I knew, it had to be you. Your just the person of my dreams, and I hope that someday we can be together, though we have things to discuss. Feel free to visit anytime, as I know your always going going. You know where to find me! :) 

Quentin read the letter over and over again. He tried to fight back tears each time he read it. Someone was pouring their heart out, someone was exposing their true feelings, all to him. He didn’t want to believe it. Who would confess to Quentin? Who would want to be with him? He read the note aloud, still trying to figure out if it was all his imagination or not.

“From the day I met you at...wait...I’ve never been to the Battle Frontier...” He sat there in silence, thinking for a moment while reading the card again and again. “Damn it. This one isn’t for me! And I bet the Gastly isn’t mine either! And where’s the card I sent me!” 

[noona-clock]

Noir ♠️ Killer

A B.A.P holiday songfic series by Admin B! Enjoy!

Genre: 1940′s AU

Pairing: Youngjae x You

By Admin B

Le Noir ♠️ Skydive ♠️ Ribbon in the Sky ♠️ Killer ♠️ Fermata ♠️ Confession ♠️ I Guess I Need U ♠️ Chiquita ♠️ Walk ♠️ Now ♠️ Kingdom

She got the rhythm of my heart I feel my heart racing Her style’s like hit’em (oh my god) No one can escape

When you’re in the spy/assassin/’do whatever you need me to do as long as you pay me’ business, you get to know your competition. 

It hadn’t taken Youngjae long to meet you, and though neither of you ever actually admitted out loud to being... well, to being what you were, you both knew. And you both knew that you both knew.

But that didn’t stop you two from playing another dangerous game: The Game of Love.

Just looking at her makes me feel it The picture is different, my instincts want it

She makes everyone nervous, fallin’ She has aimed for my heart

Even though Youngjae knew he shouldn’t be seeing you, he couldn’t stop himself. You were his competition, but you were beautiful, intelligent, witty, and incredibly strong.

So unlike the other girls he had the pleasure (or displeasure) of knowing. They were all soft-hearted and doe-eyed and waitresses and perfectly curled hair and red lipstick and fur coats all the time.

Not you. You wore pants when every other woman wore a dress. Literally but also metaphorically. You were just different. (I mean, besides the fact you were a hitman -- er, hitwoman.)

Yeah, she’s the killer: bang bang Yeah she’s the killer for my soul I can’t help it, My heart is in her hands She got my heart

It might have sounded really strange, but Youngjae was dying (pun only slightly not intended) to see you in action.

He was already basically in love with you, but seeing you sneaking around? Seeing you armed?

It would kind of crush his soul in the best way possible.

“Hey, I’m home,” you called out as you came in through the door, your hands filled with shopping bags. “Oh, wow, it looks good in here!”

Youngjae stepped down from the ladder having just finished stringing the lights on the Christmas tree. You’d ever so lovingly requested he put up the Christmas decorations in your apartment because he was just so good at things like that. (Not really, but you were scared of heights, and you hated getting up on ladders).

“Did you get all your shopping done?” Youngjae asked with a little grin as he approached you. He slid a hand around your waist, leaning in to plant a kiss on your cheek and trying to sneak a peek in your bags.

“Hey!” you cried, swatting at his chest and laughing. “I did get all my shopping done, and that includes yours. No peeking.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Youngjae chuckled. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“Ah...” You cleared your throat a bit awkwardly, something you always did before lying. “I’m having dinner with some girlfriends from work. I think we’ll be out pretty late...”

“No worries,” he murmured. “I’ve got a big work project to catch up on, so I’ll be late, too.”

“Lunch tomorrow?” you asked hopefully with raised eyebrows.

“Lunch tomorrow,” Youngjae confirmed as he nodded. And then he leaned in to kiss your lips tenderly, something he always did before leaving for a job. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You play me in your hands, you shake me up girl Our deepened souls could explode The closer you get, the more I can’t breathe My heart trembles I need you, darlin’ I only need you I love you Our looks at each other are about to melt I Feel so hot, it’s hot

“I’m sorry, you want me to what?” Youngjae asked, just to make sure he’d heard correctly.

“I want you to take out another hitman,” his employer repeated. “This particular assassin was hired to take out my main drug supplier, so now what am I going to do? Huh?”

“So... you want a revenge kill?” 

“That’s exactly what I want. You came highly recommended, so I’m trusting you to get this done quickly and cleanly. My sources have provided me with this hitman’s location, and I’m confident you can take it from there.”

Youngjae nodded solemnly, feeling the weight of his pistol against his thigh.

An hour later, once the sun had fully set on the snowy streets of the city, Youngjae slunk through alleyways to get to his destination.

He paused yet again, though, when he saw a flash of a shadow out of the corner of his eye. His heart raced as he pressed his back up against the wall, finally giving into the eerie feeling he was being watched and followed.

And, for some odd reason, your face popped into his head.

He missed you, and... he desperately hoped he hadn’t said ‘I love you’ to you for the last time.

You take my breath away You make me breathe roughly You shine so much, so dazzling I’m on the target

Youngjae arrived at the location he was supposed to find this other assassin... but he wasn’t there.

He searched around a little bit, all the while still getting the feeling he was being followed.

Still no luck, so he simply turned his focus to whoever was trailing him. He executed the classic fake-out maneuver and came face-to-face with...

You.

You were pointing your gun right at him, but the stern, serious expression on your face instantly morphed into one of shock.

“Youngjae,” you breathed. “I --”

And then it all made sense.

You had been his target.

And apparently, he was yours, too.

So... what did you do now?

Yeah, she’s the killer: bang bang

Tagging @cramelot , @brie02 , @pegacorn24 , @jjong-dae77  , @baekfanapleintemps , @sun-shinee-world , @aidachyan , @shinrin-yokeu , @babybee05 to let them know this has been posted! Readers, if you would like to be tagged, as well, please let me know!

Master list // RULES // Submit a Request! // Read About the Admins

[im-fairly-whitty]

Fermata: A Ruy Chapter

“Fermata: A symbol that tells the performer to hold the note as long as s/he would like, but certainly longer than the written note value.”

A supplementary chapter to the Coco Villain!au. Two snapshots of Ruy and Iria’s relationship while alive, one near the beginning, one at the very end.

New York - June 1947 - Four years before Ruy’s death

Iria stared blearily at her bedroom wall, confused at why she had woken up in the middle of the night.

A breeze blew through the trees outside her window, the June night air rustling through the leaves. Her eyes were just drifting closed again when she heard something distinctly non-breeze-like outside her window, the quiet plucking of a ukulele.

She sat up, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes. She glanced at the clock on her bedside table, dimly lit by the constant New York city glow seeping through the window blinds.

Why was he outside her window at three in the morning?

She had important meetings tomorrow. If she was smart she would stay in bed, she could ask him what he wanted in the morning. But...even if she was half asleep, she’d rather see him.

Iria stifled a massive yawn as she got out of bed and pulled on her bedrobe, the Maldonian crest stitched on one side. It took a minute to undo the several sophisticated locks on her balcony door, this was an official embassy building after all, but soon she was pushing open the sliding glass door and walking out onto her balcony.

She leaned on the railing, looking down for the soft sound of ukulele. There was no way she would have been able to hear it if her street wasn’t a quiet one, away from the hustle and bustle of the heart of the city.

There, two stories down and leaning into a rhododendron bush, was Rodrigo Rivera. He seemed to be staring at nothing, plucking idly at his instrument, the dappled street lamp light filtering down through the oak trees around him.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Iria called softly.

There was a muffled twang as Ruy jumped, looking up in surprise, and then embarrassment.

“Lo siento, Estrella. I didn’t mean to wake you!” he stage-whispered, scrambling to his feet and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“You’re playing music outside my window in the middle of the night, what did you think was going to happen?” Iria whispered back. “You’re lucky it was me that woke up.”

“I was playing quietly.” Ruy said, holding up his ukelele as if to show her. “I apologize, I needed to think and my place is too empty. Please, go back to sleep, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“Well you’ve already gone and bothered me,” Iria said, resting her chin on her folded arms, looking down at him with a smile. “do you have any other bothering in mind?”

Ruy grinned up at her, blowing a kiss in her direction. “Well...if you want to come with me, there is a place I would love to take you.”

“I’ll meet you at the entrance in five minutes.”

***

“Ruy, when you said “a place” I thought you meant going to a park, not breaking into Carnegie Hall!” Iria hissed.

“Shhh, it is not breaking in, we are just, visiting after hours.” Ruy said, a truly mischievous grin on his face as he pushed open a back door and pulled her into the shadows inside, confidently leading her deeper into the darkness. “It’s fine, I am conducting here later this week, they love me.”

“Oh? And do the security guards love you too?” Iria whispered, keeping close to him out of fear of running into something as he led her along, her heart racing in excitement. The wiser part of her knew she should pull him back...but where was the fun in that?

“I am Rodrigo Rivera, they have to love me.” Ruy said, she could hear the grin in his voice.

They turned into a dimly lit hallway with the whitewashed walls and linoleum flooring of a backstage area.

“Welcome to Carnegie Hall.” Ruy said, pulling her close and gesturing grandly at the utilitarian space with the ukulele in his other hand. “This is what musical success looks like, this is what the greatest musicians in the world get to see when they have made it to the top.”

“I’m incredibly impressed.” Iria chuckled, she smoothed a hand up his chest, “But if you were looking for someplace romantic I could have made a few other suggestions.”

“Ah ah, but you do not sound impressed.” Ruy teased, running an arm around her waist. “You are too good for backstage.”

“Backstage is fine, I just- Ruy, stop it!” She laughed as he nuzzled her neck, only half-heartedly trying to push him away.

“You are right,” he said, kissing her cheek before taking her hand again and pulling her down the hallway, “you are too beautiful for backstage.”

“Where are we going now?” Iria asked as he led them through several doors and into a carpeted hallway with much nicer decor, “We have to be quiet Ruy, we don’t-”

She gasped as he pushed open a heavier door, leading her into the huge expanse that was Carnegie Hall proper, the massive and ornate auditorium.

She’d been there to attend performances before, a few of them with or for Ruy, but seeing the enormous room completely empty, instead of crammed with patrons, was completely different. The balcony lights were all switched off and only half of the stage lights were lit, casting the room in deep shadows, the stage an island of warm cream light.

“We aren’t supposed to be here.” Iria whispered, feeling like she didn't have the right to make noise in such a silent and grand room. It felt almost like a library, but...for sound, instead of books.

“This is exactly where we’re supposed to be.” Ruy said, not lowering his voice at all. Sounding exactly like he belonged, or maybe like the hall belonged to him.

No. Sounding like he belonged to the hall.

Ruy led her up and onto the stage, setting his ukelele on the polished wooden floor and pulling her to the very center, putting them both into the middle of the light.

“Here we are.” he said softly, putting his hands on her hips. “No backstage for you, front and center, for everyone to see you.”

“You’re the only one here.” Iria said, reaching up and running her fingers through his hair.

“I hope that is alright.”

“It’s perfect.”

She leaned in and kissed him slowly, savoring the feel of his lips against hers, letting him deepen the kiss as he pulled her closer, gently tracing her fingertips along the line of his jaw. Ruy gently ran his hand up her sides, his mouth smiling against hers.

Iria gently pulled back from the kiss, looking into his starry eyes as she brushed back his shaggy bangs.

“Happy Birthday Ruy.” she said.

His eyes widened, his smile faltering. “How...did you know?”

“You’re an international musical celebrity Ruy,” Iria said, taking his hands, “it’s on the public record, even if you try to cover it up.”

“I just...don’t like everyone making a big deal out of it.” Ruy said, looking away.

“It reminds you of your family, doesn’t it?” Iria said softly.

“A bit.” Ruy said with a sigh, leaning against her, putting one hand on her waist and taking her hand in the other as he began to sway them back and forth. A simple, intimate waltz.

“That’s why you couldn’t sleep.” Iria said, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

“There are too many thoughts I have no place for,” Ruy said softly, “not when I can think about you instead.”

“Well I’m flattered you thought of me before alcohol.” Iria teased gently.

“Oh, Irititia,” Ruy said, pulling back to look at her face, “you are muy better than tequila. You cost less, there is no hangover, you make better conversation,” he leaned in with a smile, “your lips even have a better taste.”

Iria swatted his shoulder with a sound of mock indignation, but quickly dissolved into laughter, unable to stop laughing even as he kissed her again.

“Well, I’m glad I know where we stand.” Iria said, although she did feel genuinely pleased, she knew what a struggle he had with drink and even a joke like that didn’t come lightly from him, “I have a present for you.”

“You are the only present I need, you didn’t have to get me anything.” Ruy said, but he already looked curious.

“You know how you’re always begging me to sing?” Iria asked, smiling as his eyes already lit up. “I’m giving you a song for your birthday.”

“Rita, en serio?” he said, taking her hands, his voice ecstatic, “What song? What are you going to sing? And you have a stage too! I knew bringing you here was perfecto!”

“I’ll play too if I can borrow your ukulele.” Iria said.

Ruy nearly dove across the stage in his haste to retrieve the ukelele for her. He rushed back to her, handing it to her with a kiss on the forehead before excitedly jumping down off the stage, going to the front row of audience seating and perching himself on the back of one of the red velvet benches.

Iria smiled to herself as she kicked off her shoes and tested the strings on the instrument. She still didn’t know everything about Ruy, why he drank, why he didn’t sleep, why he held her like she was his last lifeline on earth, but it was alright.

She was patient and he was honest, and there would be plenty of time to talk things over when he walked her back home.

***

New York - October 1950 - Nine months before Ruy’s death

“Ruy, we can’t do this anymore.”

Ruy sat on the edge of the hospital bed, picking at the tape holding the IV in his arm instead of looking at Iria.

“You shouldn’t have to.” he said softly, trying to ignore the way his hands were still twitching involuntarily. “I’m sorry.”

“Ruy, look at me.”

He looked up. Iria would always be beautiful, but he couldn’t ignore the way her hair was haphazardly pulled back in a messy all-nighter ponytail, how she was still dressed in her now hopelessly wrinkled embassy clothes, her tired eyes, her permanently worried expression.

He wanted to take her in her arms, to kiss her worry away...but he had no right to even think about that when he was the cause of all of it.

“I was only gone for a week Ruy,” Iria said, “you were unconscious on the bathroom floor with so much junk everywhere that I didn’t know what to tell the paramedics you were high on.”  

“Probably cocaine I think.” Ruy said, wanting to look away, but not daring to.

“Where did you even-” Iria’s hiss trailed off into a sigh as she rubbed her eyes in exhaustion.

“Someone kept bringing some to the parties this week.” Ruy said, trying to remember anything from the hazy last few days, but it was a struggle. “I must have gone too far last night.”

“Not last night Ruy, no one’s heard from you in two days.”

Two days.

He’d been nervous when Iria announced she would be traveling for a week, but had done his best to put on a brave face for her. After all, they were both adults, he should be able to handle himself alone for a whole week.

But after only a couple days without her to calm him, to distract him, to help him stay grounded, his own thoughts had gotten too loud. Too loud to sleep or eat or even hear the music in his head anymore. And so even though he’d promised not to, he’d thrown a party Wednesday night, and another on Thursday, the loud noise and sea of faces and waves of alcohol distracting him from the dark thoughts crowding in on him from every side with no one around to anchor him.

He’d thought he’d thrown a party on Friday too, but if no one had heard from him in two days...

He hadn’t slipped up so badly in so long, not since he and Iria had gotten together, he hadn’t done the really hard stuff in ages, she’d always been more than enough excitement for him.

“I think we need to take a break Ruy.” Iria said, snapping his attention back to her.

“You mean for the weekend?” Ruy asked.

“I mean for a long time.” Iria said, biting her lip, her arms tightly folded. “I think, I think you rely on me too much, I think maybe you need some space.”

No. No.

Ruy gripped the edges of the hospital bed, fighting the overwhelming sense of vertigo gripping him.

“I know you can be better, I’ve seen you be better,” Iria said, her voice turning to a plea, “but maybe I’m holding you back. I can’t see you tearing yourself apart like this Ruy, I need you to pull yourself together, for both of us. Until then I think maybe I need to take a step back.”

But you’re what keeps me together.

I only want to tear myself apart when you’re gone.

When I’m with you I feel sane, I feel important, I feel worth something.

Please don’t leave.

But he couldn’t say any of the panicked things we wanted to.

She had never asked for this, to deal with a grown man who couldn’t even hold himself together for a week. She didn’t deserve to be with someone who couldn’t even stand to look in the mirror. He had known all along that he didn’t deserve her, that every moment they had together was stolen time.

He’d known all along that he would mess everything up somehow. And he’d finally done it.

He had no right to try and keep Iria when he already knew he didn’t deserve her, he couldn’t say a single word that might make her feel like he was trapping her. Even though every bit of him was aching to get on his knees and plead with her to stay. Even if he already knew that her leaving would be the end of everything.

Even if he knew her leaving would be the end of him.

“I can’t keep you here.” Ruy said, closing his eyes tightly against the tears that rolled down his face, too physically exhausted to even try keeping them back any more. “If you need to leave, then go, I am sorry.”

He felt her sit down on the bed next to him, pulling him close, cradling his head against her as he held her tightly.

“I don’t want to go,” Iria said quietly, “but if that’s what needs to happen then I’ll do it. You need to be better Ruy, I know you can be. This break will...it’ll be good for both of us. You can get cleaned up, I can focus on my work. When things have gotten better we’ll see each other again.”

Ruy said nothing, biting back the words in his head as he tried to memorize what she felt like.

Because he knew this was the end and his heart was breaking. He wasn’t going to get better, not without her, she was the only thing that had ever made him feel like he was home and now he was losing her. She would go on with her own life and be successful and amazing and beautiful, and she would meet someone much better than him. Someone who actually deserved her, because she deserved it.

“Alright.” he said, forcing the most painful half-smile of his life as he broke their hug, feeling like he’d just snapped off a piece of his soul. “We will take a break.”

“Are you sure?” Iria said, gently taking his face in her hands.

That alone was nearly enough to break him, nearly enough to get him to tell the truth, that this was going to kill him, that he needed her more than anything else in his life, that he was weak, that he couldn’t imagine any kind of future for himself that didn’t have her in it.

But she deserved better.

“Si, you’re always right Rita.” he said, “If you say you need space then space is what we must have.”

“Alright.” Iria said, tears coming to her eyes. “If that’s what you need.”

It wasn’t.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” Ruy said, pulling his hands away, picking at the IV tape again. “I’ll call someone to take me home.”

“I can still take you home.” Iria said.

“No, I need to not rely on you, si? I will be alright.” Ruy said, his false smile stronger now. He had to put on a show for her, if she drove him home he would break.

“I...alright.” Iria said, standing, looking lost. “I guess...I’ll see you later then?”

“It will be a happy reunion, we will both be better for it.” Ruy lied, pulling himself up onto the bed. “I am sorry, but I am very tired. Thank you again Iria, travel safely.”

She looked like she wanted to say something more as she hovered in the doorway. He wanted her to say something, anything, so he could hear her voice one last time.

But instead she bit her lip, the way she always did when she was trying not to cry.

And then she was gone.

Ruy stared at the closed door as the IV dripped into him, as his damaged body ached, as his broken heart bled.

She deserved better than him.

He slowly laid on his side, staring at the blank hospital wall as everything fell apart for good.

She deserved better than him.

[neoct18]

fermata

request: Idk if your still taking request but if you are can I request an angsty-fluff imagine tbh I didnt really think if the specifics im just obsessed with mafia au imagines thats all lol. P.s. I love you and your blog and you have 100% of my support

pairing ─ reader x bang yongguk

rating ─ m [mafia! au, angst, minor fluff]

word count ─  1.508

for: @queen-dria-love

a/n: I got a bit carried away and didn’t do much fluff, sorry. Hope you’ll still like it!

The only time you’ve seen Bang Yongguk smile, was when he was with you.

That was quite a while ago, though, when words like ‘orders’ and ‘hurry’ meant another thing entirely, than what they did now, at your little coffee shop.

He’d told you a story once; it was set in high school, when he’d just turned seventeen. It was about how he was always trouble to have around, an antisocial boy with a love for sketching, piercings and a short temper. Girls apparently were digging that sort of thing, he’d said, but he had a girlfriend.

A dead one, but still a girl nevertheless.

It was around that time he met Himchan. A fight had broken out and sometimes Yongguk sees red and blacks out, and that’s okay. The other boy was hospitalized for a month, and Yongguk got expelled. He was basically dead, he had explained to you. If Himchan hadn’t stopped that last punch, he’d have killed his first innocent person at seventeen.

Though that didn’t take long to come.

Himchan became a sort of shield for Yongguk from that point on. Yongguk felt too much, though acted on nothing, bottling up everything inside except anger. Himchan was the first person to see him cry. He was the first ever person to learn about his mom.

But Himchan had it bad too. He was from the wrong side of the tracks, and he’d unintentionally dragged Yongguk with him, and Yongguk─ Yongguk didn’t mind. He thought he’d be dead by the time he turned legal, anyway.

But he kept surviving. And that’s how they came to be where they are; piles of money, one of the most influential mafia’s in South Korea, smaller gangs at their pick and call, a crew full of fucked up but brilliant guys that had each other’s backs.

He told you this with his head on your lap, like a little boy; soft black strands of hair falling over his forehead, as he played with the ring on your finger; a promise made too fast.

His eyes were dark and always haunted, but not when he was with you. When you two lied together like this, he was full of child wonder. Ready to split himself in half and show you his black, withered heart; how it had began regaining color the moment he saw you on that street, running to escape the rain.

He had tried to sketch you over a hundred times, trying to capture the surprise and happiness he saw on your face, as you had your bag on top of your head, as some sort of made up umbrella. He got the rain right; he got the street, the way your coat was swinging, your wet hair sticking to your face─

But your face. Never right. He’d stayed up all night trying to remember everything he could, any detail that would help him capture you on paper. It was impossible.

So you two met again and again on that street, passing each other by; him getting more enchanted by you, and you?

You’d laughed when he asked you.

“I couldn’t not notice all the black. I liked the way you walked, I think that was my first thought. You were wearing a black coat, it was windy, and you looked like a dark prince. I thought you had come for me, at last. Knights in shining armor were beginning to turn into monsters when you showed up.”

He laughed that reserved laugh of his when he’d heard ‘dark prince.’ The soundless one.

He said he waited for you to cross that street back home for two hours. He hadn’t moved an inch, ‘cause this time he wasn’t going to lose you. And when he saw you, your head was lifted and he felt like he could breathe, because, yes, finally, he’d got it. Soft features. Eyes full of ‘I want, I want, I want.’

“I asked you out for coffee and you said you preferred tea. I’m a deadbeat criminal, but I swear to my fucking worthless life, I fell in love with you right then and there.”

“Some low standards you have there,” you’d joked.

And that’s when he smiled. And no one in the world would get how it felt to see Bang Yongguk smile; not like you. 

It was the kind of smile poems were written about. It made all the white noise around you worth it. It was the reason you had stayed over and over, when everything was screaming at you to go; to leave. When a fight would get out of hand, and he’d have scratch marks on his cheek and you’d have bruises on your wrists. When Youngjae and Himchan had to hold both of you back and then get you out of there, because Yongguk was trashing the place again.

When you’d come home and he’d rush to you, hugging you so tight you felt you could become one, hand holding your head secure. Far away words, something obsessive, like─

“I love you too fucking much. It hurts, (Y/N), fuck─  

I don’t know how to handle this, it’s so much...” he’d trail off, “too fucking much. It makes me wanna kill you and it makes me wanna carve my heart out and give it to you and what the fuck? What the fuck,” he’d growl, and he’d shout, but he’d shush it all away seconds later, wiping your tears away with his thumbs and taking you to bed.

The gang knew how you were. It was obsessive; Yongguk was too invested, and you had never experienced anything like this, nothing so intense, not on top of all the killing and smuggling, and they knew you would leave at some point. Maybe it wouldn’t be that day or the next, but you would leave, and worse you would leave him, and if you did that, the only part of Yongguk that was right would turn wrong and shatter, and only Himchan knew how that looked like.

So when that day finally came; almost a year into the relationship, a promise of ‘I’m gonna fucking marry you,’ lingering above your head, as you slipped off the ring and left it with Himchan, you knew, deep in your heart, you were never coming back to this.

You knew nothing Yongguk didn’t want you to know, but you’d seen what he didn’t want you to see, when he came home and brought it with him. Sometimes it was blood, most of the times it was the silence that followed all of his victims. And that was the worst part of him. When he’d close in on himself, and you couldn’t do anything to bring him back out to the light.

Days passed like that.

When you went to live with your friend, he’d come outside of her apartment and knock relentlessly for hours, drunk out of his mind, and yelling. The police had arrested him twice.

He’d sketch and sketch, wouldn’t leave the room for weeks, not even caring about the bullshit his life was, and how he was supposed to lead meaningless acts of crimes. Not when he wanted to capture your every move, every glimpse he’d ever had of you, before the details drifted from his mind, and became a blur of a girl he once loved with all his fucking being, and will probably love until his dying breath.

He got reminded of his first girlfriend a lot, in that way. How she’d killed herself and left him behind to draw, ‘cause you can only paint a picture of people who’ve left.

But he wasn’t about to respect your wishes, not until you opened that door yourself, looked at him, or whatever was left of him, and accepted the ring back, because it belonged to you, and it always would belong to you, and if you’d just come back, please, please─

He didn’t know sleep after that day he came home to nothing.

But you didn’t know that, and everything was in the past, because you never opened that door, and you never put that ring on your finger again, and you’d moved on to a normal life, with a boyfriend that was an art student, and a normal job at a coffee shop.

And the only thing that related to him was your boyfriends hands when he sketched. But thoughts were just thoughts and they drifted by, and you never had to worry about being someone’s only source of happiness ever again.

Two years later, crossing that same road again, you thought you saw a swing of a black coat, and curly hair hiding dark and always haunted eyes, but if you did, you walked twice as fast away from it.

He didn’t. He touched the ring that hang from his neck, and looked at you walking away.

That was his last smile for you. 

Day and night, he’d thought, and looked at his hands, smudged with coal. She goes and I come, but we never seem to meet.

[bunneesdreamgirlfriends]

Fermata

One-Shot is written by BunneeRp@Twitter/Unibunsdreamgirlfriends@Tumblr

9/27/17

Drip..Drop

Drip….Drop

Drip….Drop

Drip.Drop

          Is the only sound that could be heard in the delipidated room that Toori is currently tied up in. As first, she thought the sound was coming from possible water dripping, but it wasn’t that all. From how many times she has struggled to free her wrist from the rope biting into her skin, it seems she had made things worse for herself. How could she have possibly make it worse? From how many times she has pulled at the ropes she has embedded them so far into her skin, that her wrists are openly bleeding. The damage can be compared to that of her taking a box cutter to each and cutting through skin, blood vessels, and muscle. If she can’t get free soon, she knows she is going to end up dead due to all the blood bleeding from her body.

            With a shake of her head to help clear the cloudiness from her consciousness, she tries to think of a way to make her escape. Would screaming out loud help her? Problem not due to the noise would make whoever has her aware that she is coherent to her surroundings. If she continues to struggle with the ropes that will only quicken her death. The feeling of panic can be felt building up in the pit of her stomach because she doesn’t know what to do at this point and she doesn’t want to die. She wants to be able to continue living the life that she made for herself. But at this rate what would being free do for her? She has no idea where she is currently being held at or who has her for that fact. With tears clouding her vision, she hangs her head to stare at the blood pooling on the floor beneath her chair.

              What is going to happen to her if she dies here? Would anyone care that she is dead? Is anyone currently looking for her? She knows for a fact that her father has probably sent people out to find her, but she doubts that they will get to her in time. She does find it strange that no one has shown up yet because the tracker embedded at the nape of her neck should have transmitted her location to all personnel linked to the Seung Network. So why isn’t anyone here for her? Could it be that whoever has her knows about the tractor and has somehow either blocked the signal or sent out a fake one to keep everyone off track? With so many questions creating a whirlwind in her mind, her panic continues to rise to the point that she is going to make herself have a panic attack. She should have taken account of her surroundings better on her way home because she could have sensed the person stalking her in the shadows. She has gotten so used to letting her guard down from the time she has spent away from her other life. If only she would have paid attention to the alarm trying to go off in her head to warn her, she wouldn’t have found herself grabbed from behind and shoved face first into unconsciousness.  If she makes it out of this with her life, she knows her father is going to discipline her within an inch of her life. She was raised at a young age to be able to defend herself from any attack, so why didn’t she pay attention to what was going on around her.

              With that thought on her mind, she starts to come to terms that maybe her time on this Earth is over with. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise because that would mean she would finally be free from being under her family’s thumb and control. With her holding back the tears that are threating to fall from her eyes, she wants whoever finds her body to know that she wasn’t broken in spirit. She may have come to terms that she was dying, but she wasn’t going to give the other person the pleasure of knowing that in her final moments she was a scared, broken shell of her normal self. With a smile gracing her lips, she closed her eyes to enjoy the solitude and to take a short trip down memory lane. The faces of her two lovers are all she can see and the promises that they all made to each other. She wishes that she could have had a bit more time to tell them everything she wanted them to know about her life. Now that her time is up, she won’t ever be able to do that or even just get to tell them how much she loved them. They were her saving grace in life and lights that guided her on her darkest of days.

    “I love you both…” she whispers softly to the quietness that eats up her voice amidst the darkness. With a smile on her face, she starts to drift into the welcoming arms of unconsciousness like a lost lover. She is unaware that there are two sets of footsteps hurryingly making their way to the room she is being held in.

“ thump thump”

“thump thu..”

“thump”

“…… …..”

A/N#1

I am leaving this as an open ending so that anyone can make their own conclusion of how this story ends. Do her lovers get to her on time to save her? Does she die in either one of their arms? Were the footsteps only her mind’s way of comforting her in death? Possibly the ending is something completely different. Also, if anyone would love to write a different POV of this one-shot please go ahead. I would love to read it.

A/N #2

Just wanted to say really quick that this was written before I ever paired her up with Nao. So this could be treated as an AU because this wouldn’t have happened to her in the universe she is apart of now.

[thedeadfairy]

I started writing this as a response to @smolchoruschild​ asking about advice creating a fan-musical from scratch but it was answered before I finished typing it, so I’m putting it on my own blog - under a because it got super super long...

CASTING

Smallest possible cast. The last thing you want for a low-budget original amateur production is to be herding thirty people around.

Having people play multiple roles is a good workaround, but only if you can swing it.

Reliable, calm, consistent people who aren’t as strong will be better for writing a new work than flightly, dramatic powerhouse divas. When you’re devising new work, you really need to be able to work well with your cast.

Go into auditions with a clear idea of what you want for each character, but be completely prepared to throw that out the window when someone walks in and shows you what you didn’t realise you needed.

If someone comes in with a cool weird skill, find a way to let them use it!

SCRIPT

The general rule of thumb is one minute per page, but I have basically never found that to be true, especially with musicals.

Consider whether you want or need an intermission, or whether one is even possible. Nothing wrong with a one-act. Lots of things wrong with a three-hour one-act.

Err on the side of cutting too much and making it too short. Unless you’re Stephen Sondheim or Lin Manuel Miranda, you’re not going to be able to cram thousands of pages of story into a manageable running time.

Go narrow but deep. It’s better to pick a few meaningful moments and to them really well than to do a shallow skim of five hundred things.

Homestuck is huge and confusing and you’ll need to focus on making something enjoyable whether or not it actually makes sense. American Idiot and 35mm don’t really bother with the pretense of a coherent plot, but they work as musicals. A cabaret kind of vbe can allow you to jump around a bit more without worrying about connecting all the dots.

Show, don’t tell. I know this is the most trite writing advice ever, but it’s so true for script. This is actually something that can be annoying in a lot of manga to anime adaptations. Information doesn’t need to be conveyed verbally if it can be conveyed through sound or movement. You can almost think of words as a last resort.

SONGS

Before anything else, decide what ratio of speech to song you want, and whether you want songs to be distinct from spoken conversation or whether you want them to flow into each other. This will affect how your writers work, and whether, if your lyricist and script writer are separate, they need to match their writing styles.

Since you’re the ones writing the music, write it to suit your actors’ ranges and timbres. It’s okay to have close harmonies instead of full SATB arrangement. It’s okay to have songs with a modest range that sits right in the actor’s sweet spot.

Consider whether you want prerecorded tracks or a live band. Tracks give you more options for different orchestrations, and they’re logistically easier. A live band gives you the freedom to add in vamps, fermatas, and other on-the-fly adjustments. If you know a few people with decent keyboards who will play for free - well, they’re unicorns. But live accompaniment is always my preference if it’s at all an option.

If you want to use riffs from canon songs, ask. The worst that can happen is being told no.

Know how you’re getting the music to your cast. Sheet music and MIDI rehearsal tracks are what I would use. Sibelius can export both of those, but it’s pricey. Noteflight has free accounts and the benefit of shareability, but the free account can only hold ten files at a time. You can back them up to your hard drive and delete them to make more room.

COSTUMES/PROPS/SET

It only needs to look good from where the audience is sitting. Five feet? Yeah, they’ll see everything. Twenty? Nobody will see the hot glue strings, but you’ll want to go for higher contrast and more simple colour blocking.

If you cannot move it yourself, it’s not happening.

I’m coming at this as someone very fond of blackbox theatre, but with sets and props? Go minimalist. If you’re not Wicked or Phantom, the audience is not there to see a gondola or a moving clock tower. They’ll fill in the details if you give them the opportunity.

That said, if you somehow have the ability to back-project, do it. Not all spaces are set up for this, but if it’s available it’s a relatively simple thing that punches way above its weight in visual impact.

Consider the limitations of your space, then get creative. The last thing I did had basically no budget, and zero crew other than the actors, and it was performed in a rehearsal studio, so no backstage/wings/catwalk available. Our lighting instruments included camera flashes, flameless candles, keychain flashlights, phone screens, two LED spots in actors’ laps, a desk lamp and a floor lamp from someone’s apartment, a light-up kettle, and christmas lights. Our only real sound equipment was a wireless speaker jammed in someone’s pocket and a laptop left open on a chair in the audience. Would any of it have passed muster on Broadway? Oh hell no. Did it work for what it needed to be? Yes.

Crowdsource. But do so with the understanding that props get damaged sometimes.

Check if there are any special regulations you need to follow with your prop weapons, if they bear even a passing resemblance to the real thing.

MISCELLANEOUS

Pick a few areas to be harebrained and wildly ambitious, then make everything else a hundred times smaller and simpler than what you think you can handle. They will not stay small or simple.

If (when) your team comes to disagreements, have a neutral party designated to act as a mediator. Be willing to compromise. You can choose to die on this hill, but only if you understand that everyone has their own hill on which to die.

Know your venue as far in advance as possible. The more time you can get in the space, the better. If not, you can tape out your dimensons and design and rehearse the whole thing with your actual performance space in mind.

Check in with everyone and make sure information is being received and understood. You don’t want to choreograph a whole fight only to hear that the one actor’s costume absolutely will break if they do that fall, or spend a week rehearsing three verses that have been totally rewritten. Just make sure you’re all on the same page and never assume that everyone knows everything without actually checking.

Chill. Seriously, chill. Nothing needs to be perfect. This is not a life or death situation. Work hard and commit, but don’t make yourself sick or blow up your social life or put yourself in unsafe situations. That doesn’t help anyone. You’re doing this because you love it and it’s fun and you get to play around with cool people. If it totally bombs, you can shrug it off and do better next time.

[eris0330]

♔ A vow to protect you♔ [M]

Pairing: JinxReader

Genre: Angst;Fluff;Smut

Sum: After being together for 3 years, Jin finally popped the question of marriage proposal. Planning and family gatherings has been occupying you for the last 3 months, but something have always bothered you. Jin seemed stressed and all you could do, is be by his side. The wedding is set before another BTS comeback, and he became more distant around you. Anxiety and self-conscious erupted your mind when he was gone, did he really want to get married?

Epilogue to Fermata ↠ Guide

Word count: 3.7k

Triggers: Unprotected sex + Dom!Jin

A/N: I tried something new, I hope you like it. Please let me know, if it gave an effect or not.

“There should be stargazers on this table too!” A woman, rather older than yourself. Her voice so delicate and sweet, yet dominating when it came to decorating. Your lifeless frame, sitting on a chair as told. You watched Jin’s mother watch the younger women, how to decorate 8 tables for ten. The baby pink coloured table cloth, mixed perfectly with the white see-through fabric on top. Fairy lights hovering above, giving the room a fantasy feel of your first love.

“Did you hear from Jin, sweetie?” Her petite form, seated beside on the white covered wooden chair. Your eyes wandering around the room, trying not to spare the thought of Jin right now. There were no words, dedicated for him, giving in to only a denial shake as an answer.

“His brother is probably getting him into a tux for tomorrow. You can go home, I’ll finish up here” A friendly pat on your shoulder, feeling your worries darkening in the bottom of your stomach, lifted by a touch. Arms embracing your cold skin, before your feet began to walk along the red carpet to your car. The engine filling your ears of tinnitus and driving along the blocks, inside the traffic.

Your apartment sharing the same loneliness filling in your heart, of Jin being away with his brother. Clothes scattered around the floor, creating the messy life it has become, while the sunset’s low lights flash through the window glass, bringing your inner thoughts of positivity. Your bag and jacket placed upon the new leather couch, before embracing the worn clothes on the floor. Your hand tangling the pink shirt, that held hundreds of fresh and broken memories. The little study room in the corner, seemed like a mess to step inside. Books opened and occupying the whole desk, with pictures decorated with family and friends. Everything seemed too closed off and distant, grabbing the photos to examine your life. The way your friends’ support held you to continue the rough lifestyle, of being alone in the apartment. Jin’s handwritten letters from months ago, sent from the US doing his tour. It was the same kind of ritual, waiting in the living room before watching his worn-out body, proceed through the entrance.

His mind is too tired to talk about his day, even though you saw the distress on his face, bloom against his sweaty skin. Only a single kiss entangled on your gloomy forehead, before he travelled further to sleep. Another one, before leaving you like a loop with no exit. For now, your life didn’t wander around him, but with yourself. The interactions of a couple, distancing along the way. Barely, get to hear what he feels, what he thinks. Whenever you talked about the upcoming wedding, another subject interrupted. A stuttering mess, of thinking about something else. Leaving your little girl dreams on stand-by, until the day it will be fulfilled.

Watching over the album of your relationship growing, you missed the smile he had, when playing with his dog. The way he kissed you at every chance he could, or speak delightfully about his dreams. Where did they go. Today, the Jin you said ‘yes’ to, didn’t exist. You always wondered, if he distanced himself, to figure out his true intentions of a proposal. Did he ask you, to reach another milestone? To know, you won’t go anywhere, with another man? Continuously questioning your relationship, there would never be an answer.

Your future husband, was nowhere to be found. Another night, spend alone in the double bed. The cold breeze reminding you, this is what’s going to happen the rest of your life. Memories displayed while sleeping, reminded of the love he gives. His happiness, is more important, than for your mind to rest.

Jin - 00:56 “I’ll be sleeping in the dorm with the boys, until tomorrow. I love you” Read 00:58

y/n - 01:02 “Don’t forget your tux is at your brother’s place. Love you…” Read 01:05

Pushing him for more answers than you will get, pursued you to hope, he will stand and wait for in church. The same light that continuous to glow in his eyes, when seeing your frame. The tears falling upon the white pillow, holding your head steady, didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, but his happiness. His decision, was no longer in your hands. Imagining the silhouette of his body disappearing from the crowd, on the journey to find joy and love once again, without you in it. The pain breaking your heart without comfort of someone, holding you close to assure you, that everything is okay, is gone.

y/n - 09:23 - Good morning, your mom is asking for you Unread

y/n - 10:56 - Can’t wait to see you Unread

y/n - 11:02 - Jin..? Unread

y/n - 11:30 - I love you.. Unread

“Still not a word from him, sweetie?” Jin’s mother have noticed your stress and the grey cloud forming above your head, looking clueless on your phone screen. Not a single message, or word from him. There was no way to tell, if he was even at the altar. You could walk in at the entrance, realising at the last second, he won’t be there. The shame of a spontaneous widow, to make an escape.

“No… Maybe he got cold feet” Your words stuttered in the white room. Your hair sat in the perfect updo, with diamonds decorated in the brown shaded colour. Your necklace that Jin bought you on your 3rd year anniversary, snuggly fit around your neck, framing your collarbones.

“Oh honey, Jin wouldn’t do that” A cold hand, yet again placed on your shoulder. A knot forming in your stomach, replaced the excitement you held in for the day. Not even the beautiful white princess dress, helped the way you looked at yourself. Sweet and delicate, with worries swaying over your face.

“We have barely talked the past few days… It’s like he is avoiding me. I can’t get through him, not even a single message ON OUR WEDDING DAY. Not even a simple word of ‘Hello’. Maybe all of this is going too fast…” Your eyes stinging at the words that flew from your mouth, scared the mother beside. Her eyes widening of your sudden outburst and fear, making her tug you in for a hug. Her hand gracing at the small of your back, like Jin usually does when you needed comfort. Your emotions caught in a rollercoaster, at the sound of a woman’s hum.

“Sweetie, I think it’s time for you to watch this.” The warm embrace leaving, getting handed a phone. The screen pitch black, making you look perplexed at the light smiling woman. A nod for approval, for you to continue.

“I promised him only to show you this, when everything went down to zero” A last touch on your shoulder, before leaving the room by yourself. Confused and emotional, you touched the black screen to see a light flash your eyes. A rumbling in the darkness, before a person showed. His graceful brown hair and tired eyes, like you remembered only a few days ago. His black shirt and in the room of an office, with his eyes staring into the camera. You couldn’t help it, but smile at finally seeing his face.

“You’re right… you’re a maniac” Your fingers trembling, hearing his giggles through the speaker.

Your heart stopped, feeling it beat slower by the second, coming to a normal rate. Your eyes turning from a sting, to a burn. Clutching to the skirt of your dress, you proceeded to keep away your tears.

“I want to see you though…” A smile forming on your lips, but feeling the urge to kiss his luscious face.

“Please wait for me” It was like he knew you from the inside of your mind, talking to a video he recorded days ago. The way he knew how your mind worked, whenever he was gone. Taking every step, with care.

“I know… We should have waited…” Your hand trembling eagerly, waiting for him to say, ‘I can’t do this’. Your understanding, of that it’s okay to back out. If it meant for him to finally relax, and get better, then that’s what should be sacrificed. The same knot from yesterday, tightening at the sight of his eyes.

“Are you sure…?” Your voice trembling, holding back the tears dwelling in the corner of your eyes. Your hand gasping at your lips, trying to contain your emotions finding their place.

“I can’t wait either…” You couldn’t help the smile growing on your face, hearing his assurance of everything. This is the man, you gave your heart to.

At this point, you couldn’t keep your tears at bay. The warm salt water traveling down your blushed cheeks, feeling the knot in your stomach untie to excitement. Your finger stroking at the screen, wanting to touch his face.

“I promise.”

“I love you too… so much” The video turned off, hearing the door creak in the background. Jin’s mother coming closer, before drying away your fallen tears.

“Oh honey… you’re ruining your makeup” Moving away to find the makeup tools again, you simply giggled and finally felt the happiness grow in your heart like a sunflower. Your appearance didn’t matter, when you knew Jin would only see you as beautiful. After minutes of fixing the mess he created, you finally took a look of joy, on yourself. The way everything became perfect, twirling around to feel the magic flow.

“Are you ready?” Your father coming closer, to smile fondly at your glorious frame. You smiled, feeling a light kiss faint your cheek. Putting on your veil, your arm tangled together with his, to nod gently.

“Ready.” Every step and sound of your heels hitting the floor, you felt your heart race harder and faster. Your arm tightening around your fathers, before looking at him for comfort. The bells above the church, rang so the sound could be heard up to the sky. Sunlight hitting your bare back, standing in front of the big wooden red door. The sound of a piano could be heard from the inside, dragging your further in with the sound of Yoongi’s fingers fiddling the keys. Taking a deep breath, you heard the heavy doors open to be revealed in front of a crowd. Your family on one side, and friends on the other. The boys standing in line beside the man you loved, wearing a magnificent tux. Your eyes becoming glossy, before even standing in front of Jin. The sound of your mother crying of joy, being left to look him in the eyes. His smile widening, as he mouthed a ‘You look beautiful’. Your feelings were crowded with happiness and excitement, that it felt unreal. His hands intertwining with yours, before starting his vows. His thumb stroking the back of your hand, while clearing his throat. A red hue covering his cheekbones, making you mirror.

"I promise to encourage your compassion, because that is what makes you unique and wonderful. I promise to nurture your dreams, because through them your soul shines. I promise to help shoulder our challenges, for there is nothing we cannot face if we stand together. I promise to be your partner in all things, not possessing you, but working with you as a part of the whole. Lastly, I promise to you perfect love and perfect trust, for one lifetime with you could never be enough. This is my sacred vow to you, my equal in all things."

Fingers tightening, seeing his tears form in the corner of his eyes. You have already given up, trying to keep your tears away. Giving in to the moment, you wanted to drag him in for a hug. His face snuggled against your neck, but it’s too early. His voice was fluent and confident, with a hint of stuttering at getting it perfect. That’s what he was, perfect. His fingers smoothly covering your own, feeling the silver ring get placed. Snuggly and comfort, finally seeing the beauty of being together. Closing your eyes, you recapped the moment you spent in the couch like an old couple. The nagging and the hyperactive days in the kitchen, cooking after his recipe. That’s, what you were excited to do, being husband and wife.

"I promise to be your lover, companion and friend, your partner in parenthood, your ally in conflict, your greatest fan and your toughest adversary. Your comrade in adventure, your student and your teacher, your consolation in disappointment, your accomplice in mischief. This is my sacred vow to you, my equal in all things. All things." Your tears were unstoppable, gracing the silver ring over his fingers. Matching, you shot him a smile. The joy and gestures from the back, radiating at your body. Time stopped, catching his eyes. There was no need for words, as for knowing his love.

“You may kiss the bride” Your hands let loose, before feeling the warmth travel towards your cheeks. A faint of ‘I love you’ whispered, before feeling his plump lips touch yours. The sound of clapping in the background made you giggle into the touch, finally reaching another milestone. Releasing the lips, you felt his hands grab firmly around your own. A smile of mischief before he started walking in a hurry towards the exit, where a car was waiting. The bride’s maids and guests eagerly following, waiting for you to throw the bouquet of flowers. Waving goodbye, not even seeing who caught it, the sound of cheers disappeared into the air. Turning to your man, his airy laugh filled the car, before placing yet another kiss.

“You watched the video, didn’t you?” Avoiding his eyes, you nodded faintly at him. Another laugh, intertwining your fingers placing a kiss on the back of your hand.

“I told you to trust me…” A gentle stroke, bringing you back to reality.

“How could I, when you weren’t here?” You muttered, making his hands squeeze.

“Now, I’ll always be here.” Your foreheads leaning against each other, feeling his lashes tickle your skin.

“Where are we going anyways?” Your eyes following the brick blocks along the road, scanning the route of being familiar.

“We got some time before the guests arrive at the party… thought we could go home for a bit.” His fiery yes turning lustful, at the sight of your form becoming smaller. The sound of your heart racing and electricity running down your veins to your core. Not a word exchanged, before arriving outside your apartment. Jin whispering to the driver, before exiting the black car. The door being opened, while his tall body kneeled in front. Arms approaching, fixing you into bridal style. Without hesitation, your arms swayed around his neck, feeling his muscle tense.

“Ready to go in as Wife and Husband, love?” Biting your lips, you nodded gently. His steps were light and fast, coming closer to the unlocked door. The same interior apartment, filled with memories of sorrow and laughter. Standing in the entrance, Jin closed the door with his foot. In a hurried movement, he proceeded to walk further to the bedroom. Your light body clashed upon the bouncy mattress, before seeing his finger grace around his black bowtie. Loosening it and taking off his blazer, you noticed his muscles flex under the white shirt.

“Jin I-“ Your lips crashing upon each other, letting the tongues dance tango. The scent and taste of his, made your mind clouded. Your core screaming and cheeks heated, feeling his hands travel along your waist. Unzipping your dress, he picked you up to let the white fabric fall to the floor, letting you stay in your garments.

“Don’t talk.” Pushing you back on the bed, Jin kneeled on the floor at the edge of the bed. His hands firmly grabbing around your hips, to drag you closer. Your covered wet heat, only centimetres apart from his face. The excitement building in your core, feeling his exhales hit your inner thighs. A finger brushed gently upon the pink fabricated underwear, making your abs tense up. Stroking your covered slit, Jin noticed your juices already soaked it.

“Already so dirty…” Finger tucking along the line of your underwear, pulling it to the side, revealing your wet centre. Biting your lip in anticipation, you saw his eyes glow with lust. It turned you on, that he became another person doing heated times.

“Looks like I need to clean you up” Within a second later, you felt his tongue slide up between your folds. A gasped moan escaping your lips, feeling every stroke of his tongue touching your sensitive nub. The sound of his groan between your legs, as responding of your moaning. A finger, sending chills up your spine of shock. Jin didn’t give you time to adjust, before another was added. Your hands grasping to the sheets, forming knuckles around the baby blue fabric. Your juice flowing down your thigh at the point of buckling your hips, for more. His fingers pumping faster and harder, to only hear your insides and juices rub against the bones of him.

His form standing above, to look down on the mess he made. He unbuckled his belt, to let loose of his hardened beast. The pre-cum already seeming from the tip of his member, making you lean in with your hands. A light moan falling from his lips, feeling your fingers stroke against the veined member. Your lips meeting and parting to taste every inch you could get, preparing for another gag of his length.

“Shit Y/N, keep going” An eager Jin, made you pump the rest of length you couldn’t cover with your mouth. His fingers tangling in your hair, bopping your head forward for more. Tears forming in the corner of your eyes, unable to have all of him inside. His hips rocking and thrusting gently against your face, making his moan loader and exhales sharper. A goal of making him see stars under his eyelids, made you nibble with your teeth at the tip of his length. Your eyes in contact, knowing the boundaries of pain and pleasure. Locked eyes together, you went to deep throat his member. His stomach flexing at your slow and pleasurable entrance, seeing you take all of him. Your saliva dribbling from the edge of your chin, releasing his member from your mouth.

“Get on the bed, all fours.” Without restraining, you stepped upon the bed with your legs partly spread, with knees and forearms holding you in a famous dog style. Your bum in the air, feeling his legs place in between yours. The tip of his length sliding inside like a magnet, making him grunt at the feel.

“Tight, as always.” His member pushed further, making you bite your lip. Feeling every bit of his length, fill you out. His warm and big hands around your hip, anticipating the first thrust. Forceful, but delicate. Your ass clashing against his hips, only making the sound of skin hitting, boom through the whole apartment. Your loud exhales turning to lustful moans, while feeling his thrusts become hard. The call of your name, and a hand stroking the skin of your plush flesh.

“Do you know how many times I wished to come from work, fucking you like this Baby?” A slap hitting across your buttocks, making you whimper. The heated sting of his hands forming on your skin, but feeling the pleasure of pain erupt your body.

“No…” You moaned, feeling another slap on the other side. Harsh but gentle, indescribable of how it excited you.

“Every. Day. That I might explode.” His hands gripping around your thighs, turning you around on the mattress. His hips hovering above your beaten wet heat, seeing his gloomy eyes rise in the dim light. With your guidance, he was inside filling all your needs. Your legs crossing and locking his body down, feeling his member pump against your G-spot.

“I need to come, now.” His raspy voice tickling your eardrums, before thrusting once. His legs turning, finding the right position to get release. Your hands cupping his face, kissing him passionately like always.

“Come inside me, Jin” Your words of begging, making him smirk mischievously. His arms holding him steady, before placing a last kiss on your forehead. Your hands traveling along his ribs, feeling every thrust with might. Your moans filling the room, while letting your nails scratch down his sweaty back. His groans becoming sharper, accelerating to loud rough moans. His lips kissing down your shoulders, collarbones to bite on your hardened nipples.

“I can’t hold it back anymore, baby” His pumps becoming powerful, making you speechless at is actions. Your core tightening around him, feeling his last thrusts of pain. Your walls tightening and pulsating around his throbbing member, hearing his last call of your name before the warmth of his seeds flowed inside. Stars and glistering lights formed under your eyelids, unsure if your eyes rolled back by accident under your high. Jin’s body crashed upon yours, gathering energy to move. Your breaths syncing, as well for your hearts. Your finger intertwining with the brunette strands, and sweat dripping from his forehead, down on your chest.

“Either I’ll visit you more often at work, or you get your ass back home more frequently” You gasped, hearing his giggle rumble against your skin. His face hovering above yours, sending heart eyes in your way.

“My stamina might drop down to zero by the time I turn 30 then” He chuckled, placing a soft kiss upon your nose. Your shoulders shrugging at his answer, sending him a smile. Jin’s eyes followed down to see his watch, before turning back to you.

“We still got some time left, before our driver arrives. Ready for round 2?” Without given time to answer, a sheet covered your bodies with the sound of giggles, let loose from the inside. His arms holding you tightly, tucking you into his warmth.

“Only if I’m allowed to be the dominant one!” You giggled at the touch of his hands squeezing your hips, inhaling your scent of flowers.

His face finding place in the crook of your neck, like he always did. His lashes and exhales stroking your goosebumped skin, making you hum gently into his hair. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Jin.”