#I actually can’t tell you how meaningful I find this interlude as

[vulcanette]

sleep’s interlude edit by scorpiotrinity

[dragonmama76]

Beginnings Part 3

Sorry for the wait. A combo of writers block and life happening kept me from working on this. Hope you enjoy!

Catch up here: Part One, Interlude, Part 2

The jagged glass bottle dropped to the floor and Steve was free. He wasn’t dead.  Eddie hadn’t killed him after all.  As his senses returned he registered that there was shouting.  So much shouting.  “How dare you lay even one single finger on him!” Steve had never seen Robin so furious in their time together, not even when confronted with the Russians.  “After what you did to him…put him through!”  she was half screaming and half crying now and Steve gathered her in his arms, “Robbie, Rob, Bobbin it’s okay. Shhhhh.  Listen.  We’ve gotta get through what’s happening now.  It’s more important than anything that happened to me in high school.”  She gradually  stopped fighting and allowed herself to be held and only then did Steve manage to glance over at Dustin.  He was white as a sheet frantically looking between Steve and Eddie.  “Eddie?”  his voice cracked, “Eddie…what did you do?”  

**********************************

Steve and Robin stared transfixed at the screen as the reporter gave few details concerning the murder of a Hawkins High student.  Steve’s stomach clenched and his first thought was for Max but the trailer on the screen wasn’t familiar to him.  It wasn’t her trailer.  Lost in his racing thoughts, he jumped as the bell over the door rang out and Dustin and Max both rushed in.  His relief was short-lived, though, as it became clear that they were looking for help to find Eddie Munson.  Of course the Freak was at the center of all this, and now his kids were getting involved.  “Maybe let the police handle this one?” Steve suggested, although he knew it was futile.  As far as Dustin went, Eddie could do no wrong.  He exchanged meaningful glances with Robin.  Her eyes were wide as she tried to sort out if it was better to help the kids or convince them to stay far away from the situation.  Steve grabbed her sleeve and pulled her aside so they could talk.  She was babbling before he had a chance to get a word in.

“Oh my God, Steve, you always said he was dangerous and I didn’t believe you.  I’m such an idiot.  Did he actually do it?  Did he actually, you know, hurt someone?  Like that?  What are we going to do?”  

“Shit, Robin," Steve shook his head, "I don’t know.  But we can’t let Dustin and Max do this alone and you know they will, so we’re going to help them and you and I are going along to keep them out of trouble.  I don’t think Munson would actually hurt Dustin, so let’s just find him and get his side of the story.  From what Max said, it sounds like this could be upside down related and if it is…well, better that we know.”

********

There was silence in the boathouse and Dustin asked again, “Eddie…what did you do?” Eddie watched in horror as Dustin’s enormous brain made those lightning speed connections.  It was like he could see the wheels turning and the horror dawning as Dustin’s worldview was rocked by Eddie’s former crimes. His dirty truth.  His eternal shame.  He was about to turn and run, where he didn’t know, maybe just straight into the lake when Steve broke in.  “Dustin, whatever you think you know right now, put it aside.  We need to know what happened to Chrissy.”  Eddie felt, rather than saw Steve shift his attention back to him even as Dustin continued to glower.  “Okay, Eddie, it's time.  Tell us what happened and don’t leave anything out.”  Something loosened in Eddie’s chest and it all came tumbling out.  Chrissy coming to his trailer looking for help.  Chrissy floating.  Her bones snapping.  Her eyes.  He knew it all sounded insane, each detail worse than the one before but the more he spoke, the more knowing the glances around him became.  

********

After dropping Dustin and Max off for the night with promises to meet up in the morning for a strategy session, he and Robin headed back to his place to crash.  Steve didn’t feel at all bad leaving Eddie in the boathouse overnight to stew in his own juices.  He could see the man was terrified, but maybe that was simply payback for all the terror he had inspired in Steve.  It felt good.  Really good.  Steve finally had the upper hand over Eddie and wondered if this was his opportunity to enact some revenge.  Saving the world notwithstanding.  That would come first.  He sat with that feeling for a minute while Robin got settled on the couch.  And then he paused.  Well, shit.  Wasn't this exactly what Eddie had done back in high school?  Was this how he felt every time he saw Steve cringe or duck into a classroom to avoid him?  That's not who Steve wanted to be.  He had flirted with the concept of bullying back when he was friends with Tommy H. and decided it wasn't for him and he had worked too hard to shed his King Steve persona to turn it back on now.  Sometimes growing older and gaining perspective sucked.  Steve thought about Eddie watching him these last few months and wondered if he had gained perspective as well.  No one should be blamed for stupid things they did at fifteen, he really believed that, so maybe he would have to forgo the opportunity for revenge until he truly saw Eddie in action.  Ultimately Steve didn’t know how to feel about the fact that he was now technically helping Eddie, but he was willing to put his feelings aside until this current crisis was resolved.  Robin, it seemed, was not.  

“Steve, you know don’t have to be a part of this.  And maybe we shouldn’t be anyway.  It’s okay if you want to leave Eddie to figure this out on his own, you know.  You don’t have to help him, especially not after everything he did to you.  When I saw him grab you…and the look on your face…I hate him, Steve.  I hate what he did to you and I don’t get why you’re being so calm about this!” Robin’s voice was verging on hysteria and Steve sighed.  He was so tired.  “Robin, I love you and I understand that you think you’re helping, but every time I tried to talk to you about this you dismissed it and I’m gonna be honest, it made me feel like shit.  So you don’t get to have an opinion on how I’m handling this right now.  I’ve been dealing with Eddie on my own for years and you’re going to have to trust me when I say that I know what I’m doing.”  

Robin’s face fell and she looked absolutely devastated.  “Steve,” she gasped, “I didn’t..I’m sorry…I…”  

“Forget it.”  Steve’s face was hard, but his voice was kind, kinder than she thought she deserved.  “Look, Robs, whatever happened, it was in the past and if I choose to move on or ignore it that’s for me to decide.  You didn’t take it seriously before and that really sucked and I guess seeing it up close and personal changed that for you and that’s great, but this is and always has been my problem to solve.”  

“Okay.”  Robin’s voice was weak, “Okay, Steve I trust you.  Of course I do.   Just….I want you to know that I get now that I wasn’t there for you in the past and that I was too wrapped up in my own assumptions and drama and I need you to know that I’m really here for you and I’m on your side whatever that means.” 

“I know, Robbie, and that means a lot.  Really.  Let’s get some sleep and we’ll figure it all out in the morning.”

********

The last couple of days had been a real mindfuck, and now Eddie watched in horror as Steve slipped beneath the surface of Lover’s Lake for the second time.  He couldn’t let Steve just die, not with everything between them so unresolved.  It was less than a minute before he was diving in after him.  Eddie was sure he wasn’t thinking straight.  What exactly was he going to do?  Maybe he could grab him and bring him back up?  But then it didn’t matter because there was no time to think and he was sucked through a hole, a gate they called it? And the lake bed was dry and then there were birds, no, not birds. Bats. Bats with no faces diving and attacking from every direction.  Steve was on the ground fighting them off and suddenly Eddie was charging in as if he had any idea how to help.  Whatever he was doing must have worked because there was a moment when the onslaught stopped and Eddie gaped as Steve bit clear through the creature wrapped around his neck.  Metal.  

Back at Skull Rock Eddie watched as Nancy carefully wrapped Steve’s wounds with makeshift bandages.  He paced back and forth knowing his mind should be on the current danger but in reality worrying over the fact that Steve could have died and Eddie would have never had the chance to clear the air.  He needed to apologize like he needed to breathe.  This was such bullshit.  Before Chrissy had floated and died he had felt so close to being able to approach Steve once and for all and beg for forgiveness and now it felt like he was starting from square one.  Maybe he needed to make a plan?  He was so good at plans, but fuck it, there was no time for a plan.  Not here, not now.  The ground shook under his feet.  Goddammit.

“Steve,” Eddie panted, trying to keep up while also avoiding the vines littering the path ahead, “Can we talk for just a second.”

“Not right now, man.” Steve avoided the man’s gaze and continued to follow the girls.

“Please, Steve, just let me say one thing and then I’ll shut up, I swear.”  Eddie pleaded, stopping for a minute to catch his breath.

“Fine.” Steve waved his hand, “One thing.  Go.”

“I…” the words caught in Eddie’s throat and he floundered as Steve rolled his eyes and turned to go and then everything bubbled to the surface and came tumbling out in a vomit of emotion.  “FUCK!  I’m sorry, Steve.  I’m sorry for everything.  The name calling, the pushing, the knife.  It wasn’t right and I was stupid and I’m just…sorry.”

Steve stood and looked at him long and hard and Eddie cringed, waiting and knowing he deserved whatever came next. 

Steve’s face gave nothing away as he sighed out, “Eddie, man, I want to believe that you are serious about being sorry, but this isn’t the time.  I don’t know what it will take to forgive you or move past this and I really can’t do this right now.  I can’t fight monsters and my own personal demons at the same time.  Truce for right now, okay?” 

 “Yeah, yeah okay.”  Eddie wanted to stop there, but he needed more, “ I just…I just don’t get why you would help me after everything I did to you.”

Eddie watched Steve grow frustrated and felt even shittier for being such a needy bastard.  “It’s not about you, Eddie, okay?  This is so much bigger than you and your problems and whatever fucked up shit you did in high school.  So yeah, I’m helping you because helping you means protecting my family.  The people I love.  And that also means protecting  everyone else in this godforsaken town.  Even you.  So for the sake of the whole fucking world, can we just pause and pretend that you never hated me and that I don’t hate you back for like 24 hours?”  

Eddie nodded and whispered, “Yes. Let’s do that. Sorry.”  As he resumed following Steve and the girls every step was punctuated by the nagging thought, Steve hates me.  Steve hates me.  Steve hates me.  He had never felt so despondent and if he didn’t owe it to Steve to help them all out of this situation he would be tempted to go ahead and disappear here in the Upside Down.  Find a place to hide and curl up and die.  A monster in a monstrous place.

*********

When Dustin cornered Steve outside Max’s trailer he wasn’t ready.  So much was happening so fast.  They needed to figure out what had happened back there with Nancy.  They needed to figure out how exactly they could keep Max safe.  They did not have to figure out Steve’s past trauma and how it affected them.  

“I cannot believe you, Steve, how could you let me just let me get involved with Eddie knowing what he did to you?  You picked me up from Hellfire, you listened to me go on and on about him and even suggest you two should be friends!”  Dustin was so angry and Steve didn’t have anything to say.  What excuse did he honestly have for keeping Dustin in the dark this whole time?

“Look Dustin, it wasn’t like that.  I mean maybe it was, I don’t know.  I didn’t want to get in the way of you having a good freshman year.  It seemed like you were okay, so I figured why mess with that?”

“No. That’s not it.  You tell me what was so important you couldn't warn me about Eddie!" Dustin pushed until Steve cracked.

All at once, Steve felt the weight of all his relationships crashing down upon him and let the words fall out, “I don’t know, all right?  I don’t know why I didn’t tell you.  I don’t know why I let you all hang around him.  It just didn’t feel right.  Everyone around me was constantly telling me what a good guy he was and I’m nothing.  I’m nobody. I'm not a nerd, I’m not cool, I’m just the goddamn babysitter and I thought if it came down to him or me that you wouldn’t choose me.”  Steve sat heavily on the ground and put his head in his hands.

“Woah.”  Dustin sat next to Steve.  “Dude.  You are not the babysitter, Steve.  You are my brother and no matter what happens that’s who you’ll always be.  Eddie might have seemed cool, but at the end of the day he’s just some guy.  You on the other hand are Steve Harrington, the most badass guy I know and nothing will ever change that.”

Steve sniffled and knocked Dustin’s hat off to tousle his hair.  “Hey man, not cool!  I’m baring my soul here so don’t mess with the hair.”  Steve laughed and pulled Dustin into a hug.  

“I’m sorry for not telling you.”  

“You want me to kick his ass for you?” Dustin looked up at Steve so earnestly that Steve thought his heart couldn’t bear it.  

“Nah, man.  Look.  It does honestly seem like he’s changed since I knew him and he’s always been good to you, right?”

“Yeah…” Dustin acknowledged.

“It’s okay.  I promise.  I don’t know if we’ll ever be friends, but I don’t want to be his enemy and I don’t think he wants to be mine, at least not anymore.  Let us work it out, okay?”  Steve steeled himself to follow his own advice.  It was time to find Eddie and end this.

********

Sitting in Max’s trailer wasn’t working for Eddie.  He needed to get out.  He needed to move.  It was the middle of the night, so if he slipped out the back it wasn’t like there would be a hoard of townsfolk with torches and pitchforks ready to grab him.  Probably.  He figured it was worth the risk.  “Uh, I’m taking a smoke break,” he muttered as he slipped out the door into the inky black night.  He heard footsteps crunch in the gravel behind him and spun around ready to run but stopped when he realized it was Steve.  

“Munson, we’ve got some downtime here so I think it’s time we talk.” 

 “Yeah.  Okay.” Eddie began, “I don’t know how many ways I can apologize without it sounding hollow, but I’m willing to grovel…”  

Steve cut in, “I honestly just want to know one thing.” 

“Oh, um, yeah, okay?”  Eddie paced nervously in front of him and waited for him to ask.  

“Why me?  What did I do to you?  I wish I could remember, but it was like you hated me on sight and I don’t even understand why.” Eddie expected Steve to be angry, but instead he looked so sad it made Eddie want to cry.

It was the question Eddie had been dreading.  But he had to fess up and he had to be totally honest.  He knew it was the only way he could ever make amends with the boy he had hurt so many times before.  

“Look, the thing is, Steve, and there’s no way to make this sound less stupid and awful, but I never really cared about who you were back then.  I had this idiotic idea that if I could make a preppy jock afraid of me that I wouldn’t get bullied at school anymore.  I picked you pretty much at random, decided you fit my profile and then executed the plan.  And the worst part was that it worked, you know?  No one bothered me ever again and it kept me and my friends safe for years.  It’s not an excuse.  There is no excuse for what I did to you and I will bear that guilt until I go to my grave.  But you should know, it was never really about you.  You were good looking and confident and rich and looked like you had it all. I didn’t hate you because I didn’t know you.  I hated what I thought you stood for.  And now that I do know you, I could never hate you.”

“When exactly was it that you flipped and decided I was someone worth knowing?” Steve asked warily, like he was pretty sure of the answer.

Eddie shrugged resigned to his fate.  “It was when Dustin and the other kids started talking you up.  They never had a bad word to say about you and…”  Eddie trailed off but Steve motioned him to continue, “They told me all about your freshman year and the problems you had…with me…which, they apparently didn’t know it was me and I can’t believe you never told them or tried to keep them away…but I had to take a good hard look at myself and I promise you I did not like what I saw.  So…for a while I tried to justify it by watching you whenever I could so I could catch you being an asshole or whatever,”  

Steve jumped in, “I KNEW you were stalking me!  Goddammit!  Robin kept trying to tell me it was a coincidence or whatever, but you were fucking everywhere!” 

Eddie groaned rocking back on his heels, “Fuck fuck fuck.  I’m sorry.  Again.  I swear to God I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.  I just…needed to see for myself and then…okay, this sounds worse and maybe it is….I got kind of invested?”  

Steve’s eyes widened, “Invested?  What does that even mean?”  

“Mmmmmm,” Eddie groaned again and tried to hide under his hair, “….you just…you’re a good guy, you know?  It was hard to look away when you were so kind and happy and bitchy, like in a good way, and just completely not what I expected.  I’m sorry.  I promise when this is all over I’ll leave you alone forever. I’ll fucking disappear if that’s what you need.  I should have left this god awful town a long time ago anyway.”  

“Okay, well, no need to banish yourself quite so soon.”  Steve sighed.  “I’m not like Mother Teresa or anything here.  I lived up to a lot of your expectations, so maybe I deserved it.”

“You didn’t.”  Eddie broke in quickly, “You didn’t deserve any of the things I did.  I mean, no one would, but especially not you.  I have a feeling if it wasn’t for me, King Steve wouldn’t have even existed.  Dustin always says he wishes you and I had been friends and if I wasn’t such a creep, maybe we would have been?”  

“I dunno, Eddie, you can say whatever you want, but I was pretty fucked up all on my own in high school in ways that I can safely say had nothing to do with you.”

“Steve, can we maybe start over?  I know I'm not worthy of a second chance, but….what the hell…”  Eddie slowly reached out with one hand, “Hi, I’m Eddie Munson.  I play the guitar and do a lot of nerd shit. I’m also currently living in a nightmare world”

Steve looked at his hand and made a split second decision, reaching out to shake, “Hi Eddie, I’m Steve Harrington.  I’m a babysitter, carry a nail bat and am very familiar with your current nightmare.”  Eddie let out a slow breath as they shook hands.  It wasn’t everything he wanted or needed, he knew Steve hadn't forgiven him and that was probably as it should be, but it was a start.

***********************************************************************

Part 4 coming soon (ish?) Comments and reblogs are my lifeblood so....do it?

If I missed you in the tags I'm sorry. This is the list I'm going with now, feel free to subscribe on ao3! Love you all!!

Taglist: @goodolefashionedloverboi @background-noise-headache @phirex22 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lilpomelito @thaliaisalesbian @liesatemyocean @seilahtitania32 @nightmareglitter @writtenbyancientskeletonhats @dammitjim02 @newagemyth @slaalgumacoisayay @batxsignalsx @beawritingbooks @vacantwatchers @hallucinatedjosten @i-less-than-threee-you @bookworm0690 @dino-nuggets-posts @a-gae-af-racoon @whalesharksart @uses-of-anger @epiclazershark @anaibis @kakashimeansplan @that-agender-from-pluto @novelnovella @jackiemonroe5512 @shoujo-goddess @zaphodkilledthespeedforce @what-is-life-but-an-empty-void @riverofrainbows @strangersteddierthings @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @bisexualdisastersworld @pottenloved247 @my-chemical-sexuality-crisis @emly03 @mindless-inspiration @pluto-21 @iriscrxss @m-owo-n @liesatemyocean

[originofjaehyun]

Interlude: No More Drama | Part 9 | Love Song

Interlude: No More Drama Masterlist

Word count: 3,900

Warnings: Angst, language

Part 9 | Love Song

“My steps keep slowing down, I can’t stop, I can’t stop this feeling.”

Prev • Next

You thought you were going to spend only the first night at Doyoung’s, but he insisted you to stay.

“It’s not like I’m lusting over you or I want you to stay with me forever.”

“Doyoung that’s disgusting.”

“Exactly, but now that I know how powerful his family is, I’m not going to let you stay on your own. Jaehyun knows your place, and with his connection, he probably already know mine.”

“Jaehyun won’t do anything that would harm me.”

“Look, I know you love him and I’m sorry for judging him that way but it’s better to be safe than sorry, [Y/N]. At least you’re with me, and I can feel a bit more relaxed.”

You couldn’t argue with him. Who knows, his father might already ask his man to follow you around. Also, you agree with Doyoung about the fact that Jaehyun knows your place. It would probably be best to talk things through, as what you always do with him, but your heart is incapable of even meeting him after the heartbreak. It’s already hard enough for you to leave him behind without any explanation, and it’s going to be even harder if he confronts you.

“Stay for at least a week. Or would you rather hear live porn from Hanbyul and Mingyu’s room?”

“Dude, gross! They’re your friends for fuck’s sake.”

Doyoung laughed, “See, it’s better if you stay with me.”

“Just promise me you won’t bring anyone while I’m here.”

“Never thought you were the jealous type.”

“I don’t have a fetish of hearing other people fucking each other, Doyoung.”

He snorted, “You know I’m not seeing someone. Now clean up before we go to the supermarket to buy your essentials.”

That is how you ended up moving temporarily to Doyoung’s apartment. Although Doyoung said it will be OK if you become his housemate, you don’t want to keep bothering him, knowing that he’s still single. You don’t want to be the other woman when Doyoung finally found his significant other. While you still have to pay your apartment’s rent, you were thinking of paying your stay, which he rejected instantly.

“[Y/N], we’ve been best friends for years. I’m more than capable of paying this apartment all by myself. Don’t worry about it.”

“But the utility bill is going to be doubled, Doy. At least let me pay that much.”

He shook his head, “Just treat me for dinners and drinks occasionally. That’s the only payment I accept.”

You finally gave up. Doyoung is a stubborn man, once he made up his mind, it will be a miracle to ever change his decision. 

“Take a week leave first, [Y/N].”

“A week?! I thought you know how busy I am?”

“Look at yourself. Do you think you can concentrate on your work?”

Thank God it was Sunday. You spent all night crying. Doyoung opened his bottle of Soju, and the alcohol helped you to be less tense. You told him everything, how heartbreaking it was to see Jaehyun’s face. The disappointments. How his face was painted in sadness when you left him, and how it was equally painful for you.

You really do love Jaehyun, and you would probably always will. 

But the fear took the best of you. Who would’ve thought your significant other is involved in a world that you could never imagine was real. Of course, you saw articles and news about illegal transactions, but not in a million years did you think it would be that close to you.

Doyoung is right. You look horrendous. Eyes are swollen due to crying, and the darkness that surrounds them, mimicking a raccoon. You’re tired, and it would probably take you a while before you could put yourself together.

“I hope Joy won’t be pissed off when her boss suddenly took a week’s leave.”

–

The first week was like hell.

While Doyoung has been the greatest best friend ever by taking you to dinner –and you finally met Yuta in the process, and he is the sweetest guy with the brightest smile– you haven’t got any proper sleep.

Jaehyun is constantly in your mind, and you always find yourself sobbing at night when you remember him. It’s even harder to fall asleep when your dream is always about him. About how both of you planned for a happily ever after, only for the dream to get dark and cloudy midway. His father would come into the picture, and point his gun at you. When you thought the bullet would hit you, Jaehyun jumped and took it for you.

This always wakes you up, hyperventilated. 

“Hey,”

You flinched, didn’t expect Doyoung to come without knocking. Not that he has to, this is his house anyway and you don’t mind him at all.

“Sorry, I heard you were grunting.”

“You weren’t sleeping?” Your voice was cracking, due to the fact you were just awake a few seconds ago.

“No, I just finished binge-watching Succession.” He said while he approached you, and saw the tears that are apparent at the corner of your eyes. “Another nightmare?”

You slowly nod, “It’s getting worse, Doy. Every night the dream seems to be more vivid.”

Your best friend gave you a deep meaningful look, genuinely concerned. “It’s just a dream, [Y/N]. Everything’s gonna be alright. You have me, and Hanbyul, too. I think Yuta has a thing for you too.”

“Oh come on Kim Doyoung, I just broke up with my boyfriend a week ago.” You jokingly punched him in his arm, replacing the grim atmosphere with chuckles.

“There you go, don’t be all somber and mushy, that’s not the [Y/N] I know. You became so gloomy I got shivers, you know? The last time you were this emo was when you were so in love with Alex Turner from Arctic Monkeys.”

“That was a long time ago, OK!”

All the sorrow seems to melt away like snow in spring, relieving you from all the distress inside your brain. You felt grateful for the presence of your best friend, hopeful that better days will come.

That the situation would turn around somehow.

“Thanks, Doy, for being here even at my lowest.”

“Ew, since when are you this sweet?”

“Dude, I’m serious. I really mean it.”

You look at him, hoping that he can see how sincere you are. 

“Please, this is nothing, [Y/N]. I know if I were in your position –and dear Lord please don’t ever let me be in your position,”

You throw your pillow at him, finally annoyed with his never-ending jokes. He chortled before he continued, “That you’ll do the same for me. Don’t think too much about it, yeah?”

“Tomorrow is your first day of work. Make sure you rest well, I’m positive you don’t want the whole office to know that you just had a major heartbreak. Go get some sleep.”

You bob your head, agreeing. He was ready to leave your room before you realized something.

“Shit, I forgot.”

“What?”

“Tomorrow is the first Monday of the month, right?”

He nods.

“That means I have to go to NCT’s office.”

As surprised as you are, Doyoung’s eyes grow bigger, “Any chances that you can send someone else?”

“No,” You shook your head, following it by biting your nails. “I’m the PIC for this, and we’re finalizing a few important things so I have to go there myself.”

“Now, now,” Doyoung returned to where he was, sitting down next to your bed. “You are the toughest working woman I ever met in my life, OK? Remember when you used to whine because of the newbie from your office nagged non-stop about the workload? A friendly reminder, you told me that she should expect at least that much if she’s going to work at any company. What did she expect, coming to work, and having a girl talk?”

You chuckled, his remarks help to calm your anxiety.

“So yeah, you’re going to be fine even if you have to face him tomorrow. You’re meeting Johnny anyway, what is the possibility you’re going to meet him? He’s a busy man after all.”

Knowing that Jaehyun is a COO, not to mention he has his personal business, he must’ve been drowning with work, making you agree with Doyoung’s statement in a heartbeat. Your meeting wouldn’t take the whole day, so if you can wrap them quickly then you could probably avoid meeting Jaehyun.

“You’re right. Thanks, Doy.”

He lets out his gum smile, “Stop thanking me! You’re starting to freak me out!”

–

“Can I light another one?”

You politely asked Johnny whether he still got leeway for the meeting. All that left is to finalize the few details. Yet the nicotine urge seems to be a bit stronger today, as you feel like you are in need to exhale the anxiety away with another puff.

“Sure. Actually, I think I’ll smoke another one too. Too bad I can’t install a balcony at my office. If not we don’t have to go all the way here whenever we need to smoke.”

You smiled, as you ignited the cigarette that hung in between your lips. You stare at the grey smoke blankly, watching it as it fades in the air.

“Hey, uhm,”

Johnny called you, pulling you back to reality. 

“I heard it from Jaehyun.”

You almost choked, and you stared at him widely.

“I’m so sorry it happened.”

“You knew about it, Johnny?”

He nervously nods, to which you reply with a sigh, rolling your tongue over your teeth, pissed.

“God, does everyone think I’m a joke.”

“[Y/N], please, it’s not that.” He begged, scared that he might offended you. “Honestly I asked Jaehyun a couple of times already to tell you about this. But he said the timing was not right.”

“And the right timing happens to be when I managed to find it out myself?”

Johnny squinted his eyes, frustrated, “No, believe me he didn’t mean it that way. I mean, now you know how difficult his situation is.”

The dull orange at the tip of your cigarette glows as you took another drag, “Yeah, and that is the exact reason why I left.”

“You’re stronger than that, [Y/N]. I wouldn’t keep pushing Jaehyun to pursue you if you weren’t. And he loves you for that.”

“As I do, Johnny. In fact, that is the exact reason why I have to leave.”

Johnny slowly blows out a smoke out of his mouth, looking at you confused.

“I’d rather not be the extra luggage he has to carry, John. He already has so much weight on his shoulder.”

“He wouldn’t think of you as an extra luggage, [Y/N]. You know that.”

“Jaehyun would protect me, without a doubt. He’s more than capable of doing so.”

You blows out your smoke, “But do you think he would be able to stand it if I told him that I’m scared on a daily basis? I’m not going to act like a hypocrite and tell him that I’ll be fine –because I would definitely not. It scares me Johnny, his life is. And there’s no way I would lie to Jaehyun about it.” 

The look on Johnny’s eyes that were deep sienna in color marking that he could not debate with your sentences.

“Imagine if I were a part of his life, Johnny. I would constantly tell him that I’m afraid. That fear consumes me, every day. No matter how strong, how reliable he is, eventually he would break and that is the least that I would want. For my loved ones to crumble.”

Though he didn’t say a single word, you appreciate how Johnny attentively listens to you, nodding whenever you reach the full stop.

“Before it happens, I think it's best for me to leave. It is equally as painful for me, Johnny. But do I have another choice?”

Johnny refused to give you a response. He was looking down, biting his lower lip while he’s lost in his thoughts.

“You’re right,” He inhaled the final bit of his cigarette. “I mean, I’m not a part of your relationship so I guess you do know what’s best. But I’m just wishing for my friends’ happiness.”

I would love that, too.

You quietly thought inside your head, extinguishing the white stick that finally reached its end.

“And that includes you, too, [Y/N]. I might be your client at first but I think we’re close enough for me to consider you as my friend. If there's anything that I can do to make this whole breakup process more bearable, I’m just a text away, OK?”

His statement made you smile involuntarily.

“Though, I hope Jaehyun wouldn’t know. He might think that I have another agenda on you.”

The laugh finally thawed the tension away. You’re grateful that you’re surrounded with great people. Even in this situation, Johnny still tries to brighten your day, like a happy vitamin. He smoothly changed the topic on your way to his office, filling the journey with laughter.

That laughter stops once you reach his office.

The tall, pale figure that is dear to you stands up at the sight of you. He looks exhausted, and his beautiful pair of eyes no longer shine as it is now dark and hollow.

“Johnny what is the meaning of this?”

“[Y/N] please, it’s not his fault. I asked him to spare some time so I can talk to you.”

You look at him, before you shift your gaze to Johnny’s. There’s a hint of guilt from his stare, but you can tell it was mostly filled with concerns. “I’m sorry, [Y/N], I’ve promised to Jaehyun. And if I can give my two-cents, I still think it would be better if you guys talk things through.”

You slowly blink as you quietly exhale. You are in your client’s office, and you don’t want to start bawling and appear unprofessional. 

Before you can even let a single word out, suddenly someone barged in, clearly adding more tension to the room.

“Sir.” You can tell Johnny is equally unprepared with his guest.

“Father, what are you doing here?”

“Is it that absurd for a father to seek his son?”

Johnny took a glance at Donghyuck’s direction, telepathically asking him why he didn’t tell him that the founder is coming. Donghyuck just answers him with a ‘how am I supposed to act when he’s also come unnoticed?’ gesture.

While Jaehyun is pissed because his no good of a father interrupts his attempt to talk to you, he calmly asks his father. “Is there a problem, Father?”

“Oh, no, Jaehyun. You’re doing marvelous, as always.” He said, while taking a glimpse at you. “I checked your schedule and this is the only time you’re free. I asked your assistant, Jungwoo, if you’re in your office and he said I could find you at Johnny’s.”

Yeah, because I have something else to take care of.

If only his father could read and understand his mind, he wouldn’t have to act all goody two-shoes to his father. The least that Jaehyun would want is to show his family issues at the office. Knowing how his reputation means everything to his father, you know he would want the same.

“Then why is she here?”

Jaehyun asked about the female that has been standing behind his father. Someone that you never met before. She was dressed to nines, wrapping herself in Fendi’s monogram from head to toe. Her hair was strawberry blonde, flowing softly to cover her breast. Her lips were plump, but you can tell it’s artificial.

“Surely you know Kyungmi from…”

“From Hyun Ventures, yes.”

At this point you shouldn’t act like you’re surprised that Jaehyun is surrounded by big shots. Although the size of the company is not as big as NCT Corp., Hyun Ventures still managed to become the only three venture capitals originated from South Korea that made it to the top 100 venture capitalists.

“I see that you are acquaintanced.” His father says with a pleased tone. “Jaehyun, I’d like you to meet your future wife.”

His statement made you feel like the ground underneath you disappear, sinking your heart. You haven’t even recovered fully from your heartbreak, and this big of a news just added the fuel to the fire.

You don’t even care if you are considered rude, but you quickly texted Doyoung, asking him to come and pick you up as soon as possible, no longer could breath in this vexing room.

“Nice to officially meet you Jaehyun.” The woman spoke, and her voice was piercing the air. “Oh gosh, can we drop the formality? I’ve been waiting for ages to finally talk to you! Your father told me splendid things about you, like how you act like him, being the gentleman you are!”

While she was all giddy, you couldn’t help but to feel uncomfortable. You were about to pull her after-salon hair, for taking something that is yours.

Then it strikes you that he was yours, and you no longer had the right to be territorial.

Johnny noticed how uneasy you are, and he put his hand on your back, trying to ease you. It works, in a sense, with the fact that Johnny is there to support you. However, you felt like Jaehyun would need that more, seeing how tense his jaw is.

“I didn’t hear anything about this, Father. Since when do I have to wed someone?” There are trails of annoyance in Jaehyun’s tone, and he’s not making the effort to conceal it.

“Jaehyun,”  his father retaliates, voice is as cold as ice, “It is important for us to keep our relation to the Hyuns. Kyungmi is a wonderful girl. She’s well educated, takes good care of herself, and most importantly she came from a great family.”

You know his father just sarcastically said that to you. Fumes are almost apparent from Jaehyun’s head. He is ready to throw his fist to his father. He can take all the mockery, but he would not tolerate it if it is targeted towards you.

“Now,” His father cuts off, before Jaehyun is able to react. “Kyungmi, my dear, let’s have a tour at the building, shall we? Today I’ll cover the important places. After all, this will soon be yours.”

It was a cringey affection, but at least he didn’t try to cut her throat like what he did to you. Soon after, both of them left, followed by Donghyuck who guided them outside out of politeness and honestly, he’d rather escape the room that is filled with suspense.

“Johnny, can we continue our meeting via email? Or let’s postpone it to another time.”

You were choking, on the verge of tears, and unmistakably pissed. Johnny, unable to force you to stay, had no choice but agree. You rushed to pack your belongings, before Jaehyun stopped you from going.

The familiar touch.

“Let me go, Jaehyun.”

“That’s all you’ve been saying since last week, and you know I can’t.”

“You’re making it difficult for me. Please let me go.”

Your words are firm, though your tone was brittle.

“I’m making things difficult? [Y/N], you have no idea how hard it is for me spending a week without you.”

Like a volcano that’s about to erupt, all of the build up tensions in you finally explodes.

“Don’t make it as if it’s not difficult for me, Jae!” Blood rushing to your head, making your neck noticeably red. “Your father just fucking humiliates me in front of you, and that God damn future wife of yours! I bet he knows that we broke up, and that is why he purposely announce your fucking engagement right here right now to mock me!”

He never saw you snapping at him like that. He’s even more baffled when he notices the tears that start to well in your eyes.

“Please don’t cry, love.”

He leans forward to caress your cheek, which you roughly reject.

“Drop the nicknames, Jae. Save it for someone who’s more worthy of standing by your side.”

“Baby, please.” Jaehyun begs, refusing to let you go. “You know you’re the only one for me. I’ve told you millions of times and I’m ready to tell you again if I have to. You’re overlapping inside me, it’s like in my heart you’re just like a moist rain that infused me.”

You can feel the ache in your heart, and it stings. It stings because you know he meant every of his words. It stings, because you know even though the feeling is mutual, you’d wish time had better timing for you and Jaehyun.

You finally look him in the eyes, his eyes are weepy, telling you that he hopes he can change your mind.

“And leave all of these behind? All of these glory?”

You are spoken in riddles, but you know your souls speak fluently. He hesitates, and that’s enough to answer your question.

“See? You can’t, Jae. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but it would be easier if I leave.”

You were about to walk away but he tugs you back, not giving up. “[Y/N], it’s not because of the glory, or the money. I can live without either, honestly, if that could make you stay. But there’s something that I can’t let go of, not yet.”

You are confused, even with all of those layers there are still a part of Jaehyun that you didn’t know. 

“Then let me go.”

“I can’t do that, either.”

“Jaehyun, stop being so stubborn!”

“I am only stubborn when it comes to you, [Y/N].”

“And yet you can’t let go of whatever that shit is.”

You brushed him off, rushing your way to the elevator. There are a few pairs of eyes who looked at you, wondering why you ran out like someone’s about to chase your life, but you couldn’t care less.

Johnny must’ve held Jaehyun off, because he didn’t run after you immediately. You could hear him stopping him, but you were so busy running off that you didn’t pay enough attention. All you hear was Johnny telling Jaehyun not to make a scene.

You reached the lobby, and miraculously saw Doyoung’s car already stationed at the lobby. Sure, his office is only a few blocks away, but that was fast.

The tinted window from the passenger seat rolls down, and you are surprised that the driver was not your best friend.

“Yuta? What are you doing here?”

“Doyoung’s busy. We had our quarterly meeting and I was staying at his office because I’m actually not on the clock today. He told me to pick you up, he said it was urgent. Are you OK?”

“[Y/N]!”

He shouted from afar, and you don’t need to turn your back to know who’s the owner of the voice.

“Let’s go, Yuta.” You hastily enter the car, ignoring Jaehyun who sprinted to stop you.

“Are you sure? He seems like he got something to tell you.”

“Yuta, please, just drive.”

Fears that he might poke into something that is not his business, he reluctantly agrees, closing the window and just enough for Jaehyun to take a peek.

A peek of you with a man that he doesn't know, drifting away.

A/N: dun dun dun dunnn... Also, can you believe we’re only 3 chapters left?! :’’ all I can say is... it’s going to be a roller coaster ride (at least that’s how I felt when I wrote it haha)

[something-tofightfor]

He’s Not Here - Part 24

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Word Count: 8034

Rating: M (language and violence)

Parts 1-23 + the interludes and NSFW alphabet can be found on my Masterlist (link in bio)

Summary: What’s in the box that Billy left for you? Why was it so important that you have it? Does it even matter? 

Author’s Note: I’m about to ruin your Saturday.

(Banner made by @the-blind-assassin-12)

It had taken you three days to go through all of the files on Billy’s laptop, starting with the videos in the folder he’d labeled with your name. There were plenty of them, and each one was like a punch in the gut, simply because with every word he said, you heard him in it, the way he’d been when he was with you, even though you weren’t together at the time. They followed a linear timeline - some of them were simply Billy talking to you through his webcam, staring at the laptop with wide brown eyes, features contorted in sadness as he reminded himself - and by extension, you - of what he was doing and why. You couldn’t watch them all that first night; you were crying too hard, and after calling your boss and letting her know that you needed a few days off, you pulled one of Billy’s t shirts on and crawled into bed, bringing his iPod with you and holding it with one hand until you fell asleep, the songs that had comforted him in the desert filling your ears. 

 You’d cried yourself to sleep, but had woken up early the next morning, determined to make more progress with the videos and the files. You made notes as you went through them, lists of what was in each file, and as you did so, the story unfolded, little by little. Billy had been involved with heroin smuggling, starting with the contact that he’d had with Schoonover when he’d been shot. The man had offered him an opportunity to work directly for him as soon as he’d gotten back overseas, and though Billy had been hesitant because he knew what hard drugs could do to people, he’d agreed. “I didn’t want to do it, you know? But it was good money, and if I hadn’t agreed, he woulda gone to someone else, and who knows what he woulda done to me for sayin’ no. I wanted Anvil, wanted to… just wanted to get started, and figured that once I was back here and could find a new way to… he’d go somewhere else after I’d done my part. He’d find someone else, and I could just…” Billy’s hand had been working the back of his neck as he spoke, still not looking at the camera. “I was wrong. I was so wrong, but by the time I realized it, we were already… it was about more than the drugs, it was … we were - me an’ Frankie were…” 

 Agreeing to help with the drug smuggling had been just the beginning, and while Billy had assumed that he’d be on the hook for that when he came home - using Anvil as a front until Schoonover could find another avenue for importing and distributing the heroin - things had quickly changed when he and Frank had been tasked with leading two squds of men in Afghanistan, turning from dedicated Marines into something more deadly, more focused - more wrong. “Cerberus, at first was just them tellin’ us to go in and do what was necessary. We’d all been asked to do a buncha shit before, shit that we didn’t agree with but didn’t question, and so it wasn’t anything different. It got bad, Orange… Rawlins had his own agenda, and we just did what we were told, and… and it got out of control. It wasn’t just Schoonover keepin’ an eye on me anymore, it was both of ‘em, and I couldn’t...” 

 The folders contained information about each of the men - dates and amounts, contacts, phone call logs, requests, meeting notes. “I couldn’t keep track of shit over there, but once I got here? I knew… I knew there was a chance they were gonna get caught, and I’d go down with ‘em, but I wanted to… I know I can only count on myself, yeah? But after Schoonover died … after Frankie killed ‘im, things got… things changed. Rawlins is so paranoid now, but he thinks that… it’s never gonna be on him, never gonna… but he… if he knew I was keepin’ track of things, makin’ these videos? It’s gonna cover my ass, but he’d kill me for it right after he made me watch him kill you.” 

 Billy outlined everything for you - the way that the operation had changed after Schoonover died and the heroin stopped coming in in the same way, the way that Rawlins stayed as far out of the spotlight as possible and still tried to control the narrative, sending Billy and his men out on missions that needed to be handled quickly and quietly. “An’ I know you won’t want it, but I can only use so much of this money, and if I’m… I’m doin’ all of this shit? I want it to mean somethin’.” There were things that Billy did that were legitimate - he talked about situations where the men and women of Anvil were doing real jobs, where the company was exactly what Billy had dreamed, getting recognition in the papers and in military and political circles. “It’s only been a year, only been… and we’re doin’ it. I’m doin’ it, and I want… I wish I could tell you about it, because I think you’d be proud of me, at least for some of this shit.” 

 The money that he’d been putting into your account - that he’d opened by using the signature on the contract that you’d both signed for the Anvil party - was, according to him, from Billy’s portion of the legitimate deals he’d been doing, the training and the protection, the missions. “I’m usin’ the blood money, and that’s more than enough. Everything that goes to you? That’s… that’s what I woulda been doin’ for you if we were still together.” But there’s no way to verify that, I don’t… all I have are these records, but… But you realized that there’d be no reason for anyone to look into the account; it had been opened in your name, and the signature was as close to your own as you’d ever seen. You went back and forth about how you felt, knowing that the money you had access to could have come from illegal activity, but at the end of the day, you decided it didn’t matter. 

 I can… I can use this to help him, I can get him a lawyer, I… You’d actually laughed when he explained what was going on with your rent amount being deposited into the account in one of the earliest videos. “I told you we’d be livin’ together as soon as I came back, that I wanted to… well, since I’m savin’ money by living in the apartment next to my office, instead of paying my rent, I’m paying yours… kind of, even though you don’t know it yet.” 

 Billy had moved out of his apartment and into the building that he was leasing only a few months after Anvil opened. You weren’t surprised by it - that meant he could be close to his recruits, close to the company, always available, and even though you knew that him doing that would have consumed him, you also knew that it was what would have kept him sane - and too busy to really sit back and think about how far his life had spiraled. 

 The videos continued, Billy talking about the things that Rawlins and Wolf had him do, the meetings he had with Bennett and the other men, the promises they made him. “I know I can’t trust ‘em, and at this point, it’s more about me bein’ able to somehow cover my own ass when this all goes bad. Not if.  I’m guilty, I’ve done a lot of bad shit and I know that, but it didn’t start out that way, and now… now they’ve got me in so deep that… I don’t know what else to do, except make these videos and talk to you like you’re really here because it might matter someday, even if it’s only to you.” 

 You’d seen the progression in Billy as the time passed. His first video to you, he’d been distraught and angry, trying to explain everything to you in a way that made sense while coming to terms with the fact that his life was exploding. The video after the Castles had been killed had been difficult to listen to, to say the least, but he’d been a combination of heartbroken and pissed, and you’d seen the fire in his eyes, heard the edge to his voice. The one from after Anvil’s opening had been short, but Billy was simply resigned in that one - he’d  talked about your kiss, talked about saying goodbye. “I shoulda done it like that in March. I shoulda just been more honest, been more… but if you’ve made it this far, you know why I couldn’t, you know the risk. You know how dangero… You’re right. I have to let you go, I can’t keep pullin’ you back in. I already did, and it’s too dangerous, even though I tried not to, I … The next few, he’d been more calm, matter of fact - you could hear in his voice that he’d accepted his new reality - a life without you, without the Castles and without anything meaningful in it, aside from Anvil - something that had been his dream but that he’d allowed to be corrupted. 

 Billy had laid out everything for you - the reasoning behind your breakup, the reasons that he’d acted the way he had, the motivations for how hard he was working with the company, the need for him to try and help Frank in any way that he could… and even the ways that he was trying to make it seem as if everything was normal in his personal life. You’d assumed that Billy hadn’t been celibate after ending things with you, but hearing him talk about it? Seeing him looking at the camera and then away from it while he talked about the fact that he had to keep up appearances by being seen with other women, that he’d had to sell it by drawing them in and then cutting them lose? It hurt, and no number of apologies would ever make the feeling that you’d had in the pit of your stomach while you heard him apologize for sleeping with other women - and then remind you that he was doing it because he loved you disappear. He’s not wrong, though, it makes sense, it just… 

 You believed him, believed every word of what he said, because the things he said in the videos lined up with the other files on the computer - the pictures, the spreadsheets, the documents. They even lined up with the phone calls and the text messages, and you knew without a doubt that they’d line up with Anvil’s records, too. Billy had had to do a lot off the books, but it seemed like before he’d turned over the invoices to whoever it was that had paid him for the ‘special’ missions, he’d made copies of documents, made notes of the transactions. Though Anvil’s headquarters was nothing but a smoking pile of ash, there was a separate portion of the hard drive dedicated to it - and to the records. I have everything. Everything he worked for. Everything he was. “I know that my discharge papers say somethin’ different on record, but I have the real ones, I asked for ‘em when I came home. It was before Rawlins got to… he’s gonna use the ones he did, the ones… but I know. These are real, and you’ll have em, they’ll… they’ve gotta be good for something, right?” 

 As time passed, you could see that for Billy, things were falling apart and he didn’t know how to deal with it. Frank’s supposed reappearance - and the fact that Madani was also looking for the man weighed heavily on him - you watched the look on his face change, the fear in his eyes grow. “If Frankie’s really back, he’s gonna know, he’s… I’m not gonna be able to explain, because how do you… how do I explain that? How do I get him to listen for long enough to...” Billy had wanted to see Frank again, had been both relieved and afraid to learn that the man was still alive, but it presented him with a lot of problems, too. “I didn’t want to turn him over to Rawlins, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t tell him no, because I’m in too deep now, he still has leverage on me, and I can’t… I won’t risk it.” Billy had been relieved that Frank hadn’t shown up at the docks, and then the bombings and  hotel attack had happened, exposing him to both Madani and Frank at the same time. “That’s not how I wanted him to find out, not how I wanted her to find out, either. I don’t… she was a means to an end, but I didn’t… it was never supposed to happen like this, I shoulda known that Frankie wouldn’t let it… fuck.” 

 There was no doubt that in the few days leading up to Billy showing up on your doorstep, he’d been trying to make sure that you had everything you could ever need on the laptop - and on the phone, which is where the call logs and text messages still were stored, along with audio recordings of meetings that he’d had with Rawlins and other men that you didn’t recognize - because while most of the information was organized, there were also things that were messily added, not labeled thoroughly, just put on the computer so that it would be there after he wasn’t. 

 But it was the last video - the one that you watched, curled up in bed, wearing his sweats and clutching the dog tag in one hand - that forced you into action, caused you to start thinking about what you could do with the information you had. In it, Billy was in a dark room, and he was wearing the outfit you’d last seen him in, hair hanging over his eyes and his skin pale, but his voice was sure, and he’d done something that he hadn’t in any of the previous videos: he stared directly into the camera for the whole thing. 

 “So this is it. I’m meetin’ Frankie tonight, and it’s… it’s gonna be one of us or neither of us. I gotta fight, I’ve always fought, and even though after what I did, just lettin’ him have me is what I deserve, it won’t… he won’t… I can’t just lay down and die.” He’d run his fingers through his hair, taking a deep breath. “I gotta say this now, because it could be my only chance, and if I say it to you when I come there in a few hours, you won’t let me leave.” Your heart was pounding as Billy leaned in, staring at you through the screen. “He thinks I’m somethin’ that I’m not, at least not completely. I did a lot of bad shit, a lot that I wish I wouldn’t have done, but it’s always been about survival. For me, for you, for him, for… fuck. You know how I get, so I can’t… I can’t promise you that I’m gonna make it through the night. Frankie and me, we always… we bring out the best in each other, but we also... “  Billy shook his head. “I told you I’d come back to you, no matter how long it took me, but I can’t… I don’t think I’m gonna be able to do that after tonight. I don’t think I deserve it, because this whole fucking thing is just… I just tried to… I’m tired. I’m tired of things bein’ like this, tired of… this isn’t me. It can’t be me anymore.”  

 He stood and walked away, coming back with the book you’d made him in his hands, holding it up for you to see that it was tattered, the pages bent and ripped at the edges. “I think you coulda forgiven me for the drugs, even though you would have been mad. And I know you woulda told me to … to warn ‘em, instead of… but I couldn’t. I tried to tell you without tellin’ you, but now I’m… You loved me, and I think you still might, but you need to know that it didn’t matter who I was with or what I was doin’, or what any of them say.” Billy tore the last page from the book and held it up, turning it so that you could see the words, even though they were backwards. “I just love you. I always have. And if you love me, you’ll use this - everything I gave you - not to clear my name, but at least to… explain why I did what I did. Maria’s parents, maybe? Frankie, if he makes it… if… fuck. Just promise me that you won’t blame yourself. I didn’t give you a choice - I made it for you.” He sighed, looking down, and you saw that the bloody fingerprint was on the card. “Make it worth it. Help him if you can.” Billy licked his lips, saying your name and holding his hand up to the screen - much like he’d done when he was overseas. “I love you, and I’m sorry.” 

 The video ended there, and you sat staring at the screen - his face frozen in a mask of sadness, his hand against the screen with his fingers splayed. He thought Frank would win. He didn’t think he would… Without thinking, you reached up to mirror the motion, tears streaming down your face. “Oh, Billy.” You took a deep breath, eyes finally moving away from the screen and down to where the rest of the items from the box  were spread out on your bed, thinking. He told me to make it worth it, but the only thing… You shook your head. Frank was still alive, that much was for sure. He deserves to know, he needs to… this can clear his name, too, give him closure, it’ll… You took a deep breath, still thinking. But Billy’s still alive, too. 

 As much as you hated Frank for what he’d done to Billy, you understood it. From where Frank stood, Billy was solely responsible for the deaths of his family, and there’d been no reason for it aside from Billy’s own selfishness and his desire to become wealthy and respected. That has to change. He needs to… Your breath leaving you in a shudder, you closed your eyes. Billy was in the hospital, clinging to life, and when he woke, he’d have Homeland and the rest of the government pinning crimes on him that he hadn’t been responsible for while overlooking the part that their own men - and women -  had played. You knew that they’d likely frozen Billy’s bank accounts; despite the fact that he’d included his own credit and debit cards in a separate envelope, as well as information for two offshore accounts, you were wary of counting on any of that money to be there when and if Billy needed it. But my account, he’s... I can use that, I can... You climbed out of the bed, crossing your arms over your chest as you paced your room, thinking. 

 Billy would have a public defender, a lawyer that was likely going to be able to be intimidated, one that wouldn’t work hard to save the life of his client - someone that he didn’t care at all about. And he’ll lose. And he’ll go to jail, or worse. He’d said it himself - he was guilty of a lot of things, but in all of the coverage you’d seen over the past week and a half, there had been no mention of anyone government or military being involved, aside from Billy and Lewis. He’s going to get blamed for everything, even the things he didn’t… Even Frank’s name had been scrubbed from the narrative; he’d saved the lives of two teenagers as well as Madani’s on the carousel, but after that, nothing. He can’t just… he’ll have to… “He said to help him.” You spoke out loud to your empty apartment, blinking away more tears. Billy had meant Frank, you knew that he had, but you didn’t know how to get in touch with him - and if you were being honest with yourself, didn’t know if you could face him, knowing what you did. I had no idea, I didn’t… You stopped in your doorway, looking back at the bed, and then looked down, realizing that you still had Billy’s dog tag in your hand, uncurling your fingers and finding that you’d been holding it so tightly that there were indentations left in the skin of your palm. I guess you had a preference, Billy. You just didn’t… you didn’t realize it until it was too late. 

 Taking a deep breath, you slipped the dog tag into your pocket, squaring your shoulders. Figure it out. He did. He … Your eyes landed on your phone, which was sitting on the nightstand, and you hurried back to it, picking it up. Who can I trust? You didn’t know where to begin; you’d never needed a lawyer, never been in trouble with the law, never had to think about what you’d do if you ever needed to defend yourself in public. There has to be someone, but… Leaving Billy’s laptop and everything else, you walked back into the living room, eyes moving over to the TV stand, where the pictue of you and Billy had been, though you’d moved it. That picture started it, it was… Shaking your head to clear it, you moved to the couch, perching on the arm and holding your phone. Focus. You didn’t even know what time of day it was; you’d been in a haze since you’d opened the box, but as your eyes wandered again to the TV stand, you pressed your lips together. It’s only noon, it’s the middle of the day, it’s what, a Friday? You unlocked your phone, opening the browser and took a deep breath before typing ‘criminal defense attorney New York City’ into the window and hitting search. 

 There were hundreds of results, and as you scrolled through them, you frowned. I can’t trust them, I don’t know if… they won’t take it seriously, they… You set the phone down, closing your eyes and rubbing your fingers over them. You were exhausted, and even though you’d been sleeping, your dreams were once again filled with Billy’s face, with his voice - and even though you had no clue what Frank had truly done to him, the dreams often featured Billy with injuries - scars and raised skin, bandages covering wide swaths of his face. You felt guilty - more guilty than you’d ever felt in your life, and you knew that you wouldn’t be over that feeling for a long time, especially not when you knew that Frank was still - “Frank.” You dropped your hands, picking your phone back up and typing again. This time, the search was more pointed - ‘Frank Castle defense attorney’ - and your eyes widened as you scrolled through those results. Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson’s law office was known for taking on difficult clients, and the two men were also known for getting results. “Can they help me? Help...Billy?” You swallowed, eyes scanning the page and you gasped when you saw a name that jumped out at you - Karen. 

 Frank had mentioned someone named Karen when he was talking about Billy, and the fact that she was associated with the lawyers couldn’t have been coincidence. You remembered Curtis mentioning her, too, both men saying her name with reverance. She helped Frank, she… You closed your fingers around your phone, squeezing your eyes shut. If she helped Frank when he was accused of… she might… You knew it was a long shot - if she was invested in Frank’s wellbeing, she’d likely be hesitant to listen to Billy’s side of things without rushing to judgement. But she doesn’t know, none of them do. Your heart pounding, you backed out of the news article and typed the woman’s name into your browser. She’s a reporter. You took a deep breath, scrolling, and saw that along with her email address and the newspaper’s phone number, she had her extension specifically listed on her profile. That has to be… You swallowed, memorizing the four numbers and biting your lip. It’s a long shot. But it’s the only… it’s the only one I’ve got. 

 You started the call before you could question yourself again, taking a deep breath and repeating the extension number when a man answered. As you were transferred, you felt your heart in your throat, foot tapping against the floor rapidly. “Karen Page, New York Bulletin.” Freezing, you didn’t respond right away. “Hello?” You made a split second decision, closing your eyes briefly and then opening them, your eyes landing on the decorated tree in the corner. I have to do this. “Hello? Is there -”

 “Miss Page?” Your voice shook, and you paused, swallowing before you introduced yourself. “I… I think you can help me.” 

 “You’re…” She paused. “I know your name, you’re Billy Russo’s…” She stopped herself and you heard yourself laughing quietly. “I’m sorry, that was… how can I help you?” 

 “Miss Page… Karen…” Your eyes went back to your hallway, the corner of the laptop just visible. “I didn’t know who else to…” You fought to keep your voice even, trying to figure out the best way to continue. Just say it. “Billy Russo isn’t the person that you think he is.” You heard her exhale, but continued before she could say anything. “I have… I have some things I need to show … someone, anyone that can help, I…”

 “Why do you think I can help you?” Her voice was slightly colder than it had been previously, but you heard the interest in it too. “I don’t -”

 “You believed in Frank Castle.” She sucked in a breath loudly. “You knew there was more to it than what they…” Now or never. “There’s more to this, too.” There was a long pause. 

 “I’m listening.” You let out your own breath, which was more like a sigh of relief before you closed your eyes, nodding. That’s all I needed. 

--- 

 The next day, there was a knock on your door, and when you opened it, you forced a smile at the blonde woman, inviting her in. You hadn’t slept well the previous night and were nervous - not because you feared what Karen would say in response to what you showed her, but because sharing what Billy had left you was opening up the remnants of your relationship - of his life - to someone on the outside, someone with an allegiance to Frank. But she’s … I have to. “Hello, Miss P-”

 “Call me Karen, please.” She stepped into your apartment, shaking her had. “So many people out today, you’d think they would have gotten it all out of their….” She trailed off, noticing the confused expression on your face. “Yesterday… was Black Friday?” Karen cocked her head to the side, frowning slightly. “Day after Thanksgi…” You shook your head, brow furrowed. I didn’t even realize. I missed…  You watched her as she watched you, her eyes raking over your body. You’d showered, changed into clean clothes and made an attempt to improve your appearance, but knew that you still looked rough. “You love him.” She swallowed. “Still, even after -”

 “I do. And I owe him.” There was no shame in your voice, nothing but the truth in it. “And you’ll understand better once…” You gestured to your kitchen table, where the laptop was sitting, open and unlocked. “Before I show you what he left me, I need to tell you… do you want something to drink?” 

 Over the course of an hour, you filled Karen in on your history with Billy, starting with how you’d met and ending with the moment he’d left you for the last time the night of the fight with Frank. She’d listened, her eyes growing wide at certain parts of the story, but hadn’t interrupted, a pen held tightly between her fingers as she took notes. You were honest with her, telling her details that you wouldn’t have told anyone else, because you wanted her to know the Billy that you knew, the man that you’d fallen in love with. “And he left me a box, telling me it was the truth… but I didn’t open it, I couldn’t, because it felt like…”

 “Like moving on. Like… ending that part of your life, the part that was with him.” She spoke quietly and you nodded, watching as she set the pad and pen down on the coffee table, next to her empty beer bottle. “You opened it, though.” You nodded, recounting Frank’s visit to you a few days after the fight, followed by your trip to the hospital and the encounter with Madani. “I’ve met her. She’s… she saved Frank’s life, her and Lieberman, after…” You watched her eyes flash. “After he killed Rawlins, and again after he fought with…” Karen bit her lip and used her fingers to wipe beneath her eyes. She loves him. You felt a chill run through your body at the realization, but you knew that you were too far in to stop things. “He’s gone, he’s not in the city anymore, you know that?” I didn’t. “He left Madani to look after Billy, told her to call him if anything changed, said he’d come back if he needed to, but even… even after what Billy did to Frank, to his family, he didn’t… he couldn’t kill him.” Karen shook her head. “I don’t know how he… Frank’s a good person, but, Billy, he took -”

 “He didn’t do it because he wanted to.” You spoke quietly. “He never wanted to hurt them, never would have…” You met her eyes, feeling yours flooding with tears that you didn’t even try to hold back. “Rawlins gave Billy a choice, Karen. And I didn’t know it until I watched…” You gestured to the laptop, shaking your head back and forth. “Rawlins wanted Frank dead, not Maria and the kids. Billy thought…” You looked down and then back up at Karen, who was watching you silently, hands clasped together on her lap. “Rawlins told Billy that if he warned Frank, if he tipped him off in any way, that he’d…” Your jaw worked silently, but you only paused for a moment before continuing, saying the words out loud for the first time. “He said he’d kill me.” 

 --- 

 Karen had been on the phone moments after watching the first video that Billy had recorded for you, the woman pacing back and forth in your living room as she talked with somone on the other end of the line. “I need you to pack up everything - not the clothes, but the laptop, the other stuff, the papers… and you need to come with me.” Shocked, you’d nodded, slipping Billy’s laptop and phone into your own bag, adding in the paperwork and few envelopes along with it. By the time you’d finished, Karen was sitting on your couch again, head in her hands and her long hair hanging through her fingers. “We’ll figure this out.” She looked up at you, and you saw that her eyes were shining. “I trust Frank. He’d never… he’s never…” She shook her head. “But that didn’t seem like…” No, it didn’t. She stood, pressing her lips together and  then she crossed the room to you, putting her arms around your shoulders and pulling you close. Though you were surprised, you hugged her back, feeling a sense of comfort for the first time since Billy had walked out the previous week. “Matt and Foggy will know what to do, they’ll… Matt will be able to…” 

 So the two of you had taken a cab to Hell’s Kitchen, entering a large and open apartment. You recognized the man that opened the door as Matt Murdock, and though blind, he’d reached out for your hand before you could say a word, introducing himself. “Karen tells me you have a case...or what you think is a case?” He smiled at you, and out of habit you nodded, opening your mouth to speak. 

 “I do, Mr. Murdock, I -”

 “Matt. Call me Matt. If we’re going to be working on this, you should…” He led you deeper into the apartment, asking you to set up the laptop and play the video you’d played for Karen. You watched him with interest as he listened to Billy’s words, his face giving nothing away. It was one of the longer videos, but as Karen pressed the pause button at the end of it, you felt like it wasn’t long enough. “And he recorded that when, Karen?” 

 “The date of the file is from about a week before the Castles were killed, Matt.” She sighed. “I mean, we’d need to check it out, and make sure, but… the other videos, they all have dates that line up with things Frank told me, things that we looked into for his case and with The Blacksmith. I mean, it… there seems like there could be a lot of truth to it, and if…” She trailed off. “If there is, then this could get interesting, Matt.” She believes. 

 “Russo’s voice… he believed what he was saying.” Matt frowned, shaking his head. “He was genuinely upset.” You leaned in, reaching past Matt to open up the file from the day that the Castles had been killed, pressing play. Just keep going, that’s all you can do now. When that video ended, you glanced over at Karen, whose eyes were read, tears streaking down her cheeks. You were crying too, but you were spent, your body almost too tired to produce any real tears. “He really didn’t know.” Matt’s voice was filled with surprise. “That changes things. If there was proof that -”

 “There is. It’s short, but there’s a recording on Billy’s phone, I don’t know how he got it, but it’s…” You swallowed. “It’s Rawlins and Billy the day of the…” You pulled the phone out, going through it. “Rawlins tells Billy that there are men outside of where I work, and if anything goes wrong, if Frank isn’t there, or if he seems like he was tipped off, they’ll grab me when I go to lunch.” You pressed play, letting Matt and Karen listen. Some of the audio was garbled, since you assumed that Billy had had the phone in his pocket, but most of the words were clear.

 “Does R… Billy have a lawyer?” You told him you didn’t know, and Matt nodded. “We’ll look into it. They can’t try him, or even charge him with anything formally until he wakes up and they assess… his brain function.” You gasped and Matt continued. “It’s been all over the news, I’ve… kept up with it.” Of course you have. “We have time, but we can’t… we can’t let anyone know that this information exists, not until we go through it, and…” Matt sighed. “Karen, can I talk to you for a minute?” The blonde nodded, and Matt pointed at the refrigerator. “Help yourself, we’ll be right back.” They  walked slowly away and down the hall, and you turned the laptop to face you, staring again at Billy’s face, paused on the screen. I’m going to help you, Russo. Even if they won’t, I … A few minutes passed and then you heard your name, Matt stepping back down the hallway in front of Karen, who looked determined. “We’ll need to keep the laptop and the phone, it’s evidence. Once we can verify that things were created on the days that … that he says they were, we can move forward.” You agreed and Matt took a deep breath. “I still have to talk to Foggy, but… I think that we can help Billy, and maybe Frank, too.” 

 You felt yourself deflate, your knees growing weak. “You...you believe him?” That time, your voice shook, and as you gripped the edge of the counter, you felt Karen’s hand on your back, heard her murmur your name. “I know you guys believe Frank, and you trust him, and…”

 “Frank’s entire… everything he ever did was to… was for the people he loved.” Karen shook her head, and for the first time, you noticed the faint scabbing on her face, the scar next to her lip. “If Billy really did that for you - and there’s proof? Proof that he…” She shook her head. “They’re going to try to bury him, and no one will ever know the truth if they have it their way. Sweeping what Rawlins and Bennett and Schoonover and Madani …what all of them did under the rug to save face?” Karen shook her head. “That’s not right, that’s not what .... Not what people like Frank and Billy fought for.” Karen nodded, her eyes clear. “I believe Frank. I believe that Frank did what he thought was right because of what they did to his family, but … but that doesn’t mean that I don’t believe Billy, too.” 

 “There’s a lot of work to do.” Matt spoke again, drawing your attention. “If Billy wakes up, we’ll need to be there almost as soon as Madani’s guy is, so we need to get to work on this.” You nodded, forgetting again that Matt couldn’t see it, but he grinned, continuing. “We need to go through all of these files, and start working on a strategy, figure out what we can…” 

 “Matt?” You swallowed, eyes moving back to the laptop. “If… if he doesn’t wake up, that laptop… the phone… it’s all… it’s all I have left of him, and it’s the only proof that he…”

 “We can make you copies of the videos.” Karen’s hand rubbed against your back, her voice quiet. “I’ll do that right away and get them back to you, just in case.” 

 “Yeah.” Matt cleared his throat, nodding his head. “It’s probably good to have backups anyway.” 

--- 

 Things moved quickly, and over the course of the next few weeks, Matt, Karen and Foggy worked tirelessly on the case, categorizing all of the information and printing things out, connecting dots. Karen’s position on the paper allowed her to dig into files and reports, getting them more information on the men that Frank - and Billy - had killed. It had only taken a few days for them to come to the conclusion that nothing on the phone or laptop had been fabricated, meaning that while the truth behind Billy’s words couldn’t be validated unless he woke up and remembered, he’d recorded and saved things as he went - not all at once, and not after the fact. It made you appreciate what he’d done for you even more, and it made you hate Madani and the government more, too. 

 Though you weren’t allowed in the room with Billy again, you visited him multiple times a week, sitting quietly in the hallway in a chair that faced his room, waiting for any sign of change. 

 Nothing happened - aside from the bandages on his face getting thinner, the bulk disappearing as the wounds beneath them healed. Madani was in the room with him most of the times that you were there, and while you couldn’t hear what she was saying, you watched as she spoke to him, the anger on her face and in her posture palpable. She’s going to try everything to … to ruin him. You kept it together, taking everything in, and reported back to Matt and Karen, letting them know if you overheard anything from Madani or the doctors, but it wasn’t until the beginning of the third week of December that they had to take action. 

 Billy’s court appointed lawyer had visited with Madani, and though you didn’t catch all of their conversation, you watched the man shake hands with her and heard him say that when Billy woke up, things wouldn’t take long to wrap up. I knew it. You texted Karen as soon as you left the hospital, and not less than 24 hours later, you received a message from Foggy, telling you that he and Matt had officially taken on Billy as a client, letting Madani’s team know that the court appointed lawyer would be replaced, pending Billy��s return to consciousness. You felt relief, but it was short lived, as the next time you showed up at the hospital Madani refused to speak to you, instead glaring at you as she walked by, going back into Billy’s room and blocking your view of the man by closing the blinds. 

 You weren’t allowed into the room - aside from a short visit on New Year’s Eve, something Karen had advocated for once she’d found out it was Billy’s birthday, but nothing changed with him. He was still out, still unresponsive, and even though you could see that he was healing - bruises and cuts fading from his arms, the doctors (and his own heightened senses) telling Matt that the other injuries on his body were getting better, too, you were beginning to worry that Billy wouldn’t ever wake up. 

 Even after the bandages came off, exposing the thick and jagged scarring on Billy’s face to the open air, he didn’t stir. You watched his chest rise and fall through the window, watched the monitors, eyes on the numbers, listened as much as you could to the doctors and nurses … and hoped. By the end of January, even Matt had said that things were changing, and he could almost hear Billy’s body as it healed, but he still didn’t respond - not to Madani, not to Detective Mahoney, not even to the medical staff, when they poked and prodded at him, examining him or manipulating his body so that he didn’t remain in one position. His arms and legs were thinner than you ever imagined that they could be, but they were nowhere near as thin as his face; Billy’s eyes sunken in, the raised and angry pink skin stretched tight over his skull. He looked nothing like the man that you knew, but that didn’t change the way you felt. This is because of me. Frank fighting him is because of me.

 While at work on a Tuesday in February, your phone rang, showing Karen’s number on the screen. You answered, unsure of why she was calling - but you didn’t have to wait long for the answer. Karen said your name, and at the sound, your grip on your phone tightened, chest growing tight. “He’s awake.” 

 You made it to the hospital in record time, and even though Karen met you at the front doors, you barely stopped until you were in the elevator, foot tapping on the floor. “Is he -”

 “I called you as soon as they called Matt.” She swallowed. “Madani’s been trying to get in there, I guess, but the doctors won’t let her, since Matt and Foggy are his legal council, and she’s not even technically supposed to be in the room.” I didn’t know that. “The cops will usually let her in, but if Mahoney’s here, she stays away, and now that he’s awake…” Karen shook her head. “You can’t go in, not yet, but maybe if he… if he sees you? Sees someone familiar that isn’t… her?” You nodded, nearly sprinting out of the elevator when the doors opened, but stopped in your tracks when you saw that Billy’s blinds were closed. That’s new. Madani was pacing in the hallway, her arms crossed and she swore when she saw you, rolling her eyes. “Agent Madani.” 

 Karen’s voice was frosty, and you and the blonde woman stopped in front of Billy’s door, waiting. “The lawyers are in there now, along with one of the -” Madani rolled her eyes. “You’re not going in there.” 

 “I know.” You eyed her, not saying anything else. It didn’t feel any different in the hallway, even though you knew that Billy was awake, but you could feel the anger rolling off of her, saw the way she was looking at you and Karen. “I -” Billy’s door opened and the officer stepped out, talking to Madani. 

 “He’s lawyered up. We can’t speak to him again unless they’re present, but the doctors also said that he needs some time to recover. He can’t -”

 “I don’t care. I want to see him now.” Madani pointed at the door, whch was still open a few inches. “I want to go in -” 

 “No. Agent Madani, we’ve allowed you to go in up until now, but there’s nothing we can do, both doctors as well as I heard him agree to let Murdock and Nelson -”

 “And Page.” Karen spoke up from next to you. “I’m a junior partner, we’re just waiting for my cards to come in.” She shrugged. “I’m on the team too, so I’ll have access to Mr. Russo.” Madani’s face turned thunderous, but the officer nodded. 

 “Murdock and Nelson and Page represent him, so unless one of them is present, you won’t be able to be in the room with him, and neither will we, except to guard the medical staff.” Swearing under her breath, Madani spun on her heel and stormed off, leaving the three of you - and the single guard outside the door - standing in the hallway. “Ms. Page, if you’d like you can join them in the room.” Karen nodded and squeezed your arm before she stepped away, slipping into the room and closing the door behind her. I just want to see him, I want to see him awake, I… “Take a seat, it might be a while.” The officer - one of the guards that you’d become familiar with sighed as you shook your head. “Suit yourself.” Minutes passed and then the door opened again, a doctor and a nurse leaving and shutting it behind them, walking down the hallway and  talking quietly between themselves. What is happening? What… You stared at the window, eyes unfocused, and then, after what felt like a long time had passed, you watched as the blinds rose, Karen’s worried face inches away from yours. She was blocking your view of Billy, and waited until you’d met her anxious eyes and nodded once to step to the right, letting you see him. 

 His head was turned to the side, looking away from you as he talked to Matt and Foggy, but after a few seconds, Billy’s head moved, even though it didn’t lift from the pillow. Oh, God. Things seemed to be happening in slow motion, your heart thudding behind your ribs as you watched him move for the first time in months. Billy’s head stopped, his cheek resting on the pillow, and you stepped closer to the window, staring at him, even though his eyes were closed. He finally opened them and you felt your eyes widen as you saw them through the glass - the same brown eyes that you’d gotten so used to staring into looking at you as if they didn’t see you at first. Billy it’s me. It… You watched as his eyes widened, eyebrows rising, and for the briefest moment, a flash of recognition went through them, his jaw twitching. Hi. But then it was gone, Billy’s brow furrowing as he kept staring at you. No… what… he doesn’t… Unwilling to give up, you raised your hand to the glass, pressing your palm against it and tilting your head to the side. Come on, Billy. It’s me. 

 For the span of a few seconds, you thought he was going to respond, but then Billy closed his eyes again, turning his head back toward Matt and Foggy. Feeling crushed but trying not to show it, you stepped away from the glass, dropping into the chair you typically sat in and putting your face into your hands. It doesn’t matter. He’s awake. He’s alive. Nothing else matters.

 ---

  Tag List:

If you want to be added or removed, reach out and let me know!

General:

@the-blind-assassin-12 @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @obscurilicious @sweetybuzz25 @suchatinyinfinity @lexxierave @gollyderek @poindexted @ificouldhelpyouforget @elanor-of-imladris​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @luminex3​ @geeksareunique​ @weallhaveadestiny​ @mfackenthal​ @thesumofmychoices​ @yannii04​ @beautiful-thinking​ @drinix​ @agentlingerie​  @blah-blah-fuckit-shit​  @dreams-with-thoughts​  @wangmangagavroche​ @traeumerinwitzhelden​ @jigsawlover10​ @malionnes​  @addictedtofictionalcharacters​

Billy Russo:

@nananananananananananabatman​ @damalseer​ @benbarnestongue @chibiyanai​ @life-is-a-melody​ @songtoyou​ @thisisparadisemylove​ @littlemermaidprobz​ @weirdowithnobeardo​

He’s Not Here ONLY:

@breanime​

Uncategorized:

@banditthewriter​ @padfootagain​ @madamrogers​ @ethereal-heavcns​ @editboutique​ @marauderskeeper​ @ilkaeliseb​ @delicatelilyflower​ @king4thesirens​ @ymariejp​ @mr-robot-x​ @rageshots​ @introvertedlibrary​ @writing-for-a-chance​ @yesixoxo @ilikebeachessushiandsmallanimals​ @likeorions​ @swiftyhowlz​ @dylanobrusso​ @malik-payne​ @lynne1993​ @ladyblablabla​ @dreamwritesimagines​ @audreychaz​ @tc-elliot @kind-wolf​ @honeyydippaa​ @binbonsadoration​ @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @ms-delos​ @jeanettexkillian​ @avengerswhore @elioelioeli0​ @projectcampbell​ @giggleberts​

[latenightcinephile]

#898: ‘13th’, dir. Ava DuVernay, 2016.

This film is acknowledged by Ava DuVernay as having been seen more times than all her other films combined, thanks to its production by, and availability through, Netflix. The streaming platform’s move into content production has changed the scope of the list, expanding it into other areas that would have been considered too niche twenty years ago. This form of production also explains 13th’s familiar form - a talking-heads documentary that doesn’t push the stylistic boat out in any meaningful way. What is shows instead is the way in which ‘important film’ has become a calculated term.

This doesn’t mean that what DuVernay has created isn’t important, but rather that it is aware of itself as important. The film’s message is too urgent to DuVernay to be delivered in anything other than the most direct and confrontational terms. This is a documentary that knows its message, knows the breadth of the information required to convey that message, and knows how long it has to do it before an audience’s mind wanders. A 100-minute-long documentary about race in America is not a particularly easy film to promote, which makes its popularity all the more impressive (and partly explains Netflix’s perhaps-cynical promotion of the film with its cryptic title and thumbnail on its New Zealand platform).

In a sentence, the argument of 13th is that the subclause of the 13th Amendment, allowing indentured servitude and slavery only as punishment for a conviction, gave American society an incentive to criminalise black Americans at a much higher rate, finding a way to direct that population into effective slavery. While this was calculated based on race, it has frequently been justified under a ‘law and order’ platform. In order to support this argument, DuVernay calls upon interviews with leaders of black inmate groups, former activists such as Angela Davis, politicians as diverse as Cory Booker and Newt Gingrich, and academics from across the American tertiary spectrum.

Where this film does branch out stylistically is in its visualisation of language. Language is privileged in any talking-heads documentary, but DuVernay breaks the film into segments roughly equivalent to presidential tenures, and fills the gaps with kinetic typography renditions of black American music, from Nina Simone, Public Enemy, and Usher among others. This is an interesting way of sticking these texts in the memory, but each of these interludes feels like it runs too long, wasting time and breaking the momentum of the history lesson.

What does work really well, though, is the editing of the interviews. Each interviewee is stationed in an academic hall or industrial building, and their responses to the unseen interviewers are collected together as though they are in a direct conversation or, in many cases, a round-table discussion. Participants disagree on whether video footage of police brutality should be made public, or if the ubiquity of this footage is just depressing and defeating to contemporary movements. There are subsections of the film devoted to the role film plays in this discussion (Hi, Birth of a Nation!), and this feeds into the metatextual argument about how 13th has made itself broadly appeal to audiences to. It is both a summary and an example of film’s relation to race in America.

One of the film’s most effective sequences is when it discusses ALEC, a governmental lobbying group that writes blanket legislation, and has served as a way for private correctional facilities to criminalise wider and wider behaviours to increase profit. DuVernay pits two interviewees against each other: facing to the right, an academic laying out in precise detail the way ALEC has operated against immigration; and facing to the left, an ALEC representative defending the group in general terms. As well as the framing, which puts these two into a seemingly direct dialogue, DuVernay and editor Spencer Averick literally cut the ALEC representative off mid-sentence, shouting him down with more specific rebuttal. In addition, it’s clear that the representative was interviewed first, as the academic often refers to specific phrases from his interview, while he can only speak in vague overviews of the subject.

This is effective filmmaking, because we assume from its construction that the two interviewees are operating on a level field, even though we know that one of these interviews must predate the other. But effective filmmaking like this usually runs into fridge logic: you can see the strings if you look closely enough. Another chart in the film shows a spike in incarcerations between 2010 and 2015, but none of the interviews speak to this fact, and the documentary leaves Obama’s presidency out entirely. I don’t think there is a conscious bias here, because the film is regularly even-handed, but the trouble with being so ruthless in cutting out ‘extraneous’ information is that when you notice what’s been cut it can’t help but feel deliberate.

The trick of documentary filmmaking is giving the illusion of comprehensiveness, while acknowledging that actual comprehensiveness is impossible. 13th doesn’t always make this work, but it’s telling a story of race relations that is thoroughly persuasive. It’s telling that the only negative reviews of the film come from those who miss the point entirely - David Edelstein, for example, writes that the film pretends crime doesn’t exist, when the entire idea is that it does exist, but only because of a bias in determining what crime is. 13th is rare in that it’s a film so busy telling you its necessary truths that it doesn’t need to worry about persuading you. Luckily, it’s powerfully persuasive.

[missmarquin]

Wild, Interlude: Tiger

Yuri on Ice | Otabek/Yuri, Victor/Yuuri | Fantasy/Fairytale AU |

This is the story of a nomad and the unusual tiger that he meets, and how relationships can be built on something far more meaningful than just words.  

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

This is the second part to Wild, my current Otayuri Fairytale!

Read on AO3 for better formatting! And don’t forget to follow me on Twitter! :D

# # # #

Interlude: Tiger

Nikolai Plisesky wasn’t the kind of man to go down without a fight. The chase had been long and arduous, but satisfying in a way. His old bones ached, but he felt more alive than he had in decades, his entire being brimming with energy. He teetered at the edge of that power, blood on fire and hands tingling, ready to explode. Magic was like that sometimes. Wholly consuming, itching to be released. 

“Think you’ve won, have you?” Nikolai yelled, chest heaving as his breath puffed out in clouds before him. Winter was bitter cold in Rus, even when you were used to it. “Do you think that this is the end just because you’ve backed me into a corner? Ha!” 

“That’s it, old man,” said a voice from behind. Willful. Cocky. Young and inexperienced. Really, the child had no idea who it was that he dealt with. Part of Nikolai pitied him, for it wasn’t his fault that the Crown had sent him to meet his end. 

Nikolai finally turned to meet the other sorcerer face to face, throwing his hands up in a motion of peace. And to be prepared, just in case he had to weave a quick spell. “You’ve found me,” he said. 

The younger man was typical really, with wild, unkempt hair and dark eyes just the wrong side of mad. Black sorcerers, Nikolai mused with a grimace. Nasty bunch. “It was a good hunt,” the man said to him. “I thank you for not entirely wasting my time.”

“Get it over with, then,” Nikolai said back. They stepped closer to each other in tandem, closing the distance between them. “Put me out of my misery.”

“Oh you have it all wrong,” the other man said. At that, Nikolai paused, eyes slowly narrowing. He hesitated. “I’m not here to get rid of you,” the black sorcerer continued,  “I’m here to bring you back.”

“I won’t do it anymore,” Nikolai said. “Forty years of doing their bidding and I’ve done a lot of questionable things. I’ve grown weary of hurting others and I draw the line at outright murder.”

“You know too much.”

“Which is how I know that they would never ask me to work for them again. So do it then, put an old man out of his misery,” Nikolai said. 

The man looked cocky, mouth spread wide into a shit eating grin. Nikolai hated it; to be hunted down and ended by such a brat. It was an unbecoming end for a man as powerful as he. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” the sorcerer asked him. “Where’s the satisfaction? No, I like my plan far better. You’ll live on as they curse your name. All you’ll be able to do is relive those memories as you are paraded around like a pet.” His fingers crackled with energy as he took his stance. 

A well-recognized spell. “That’s it, boy?” Nikolai asked him with a booming laugh. “That’s all that you have? What will you turn me into?”

“You underestimate me,” the boy replied. “This isn’t a curse upon just you, but also every generation that will come henceforth. You are nothing but a beast, and so a beast you shall be. Shackled and paraded around, as will your kin to follow for the rest of time.”

“Or until the curse is broken,” Nikolai said. “There’s always a work around.” But still, Nikolai worried; a curse on a family line was high level magic. 

“It’s too late, Nikolai,” the man said. “You can’t escape this time. The Crown considers this a mercy, really. You should be thankful.”

Nikolai watched him for a long moment and then he sighed. Nikolai was old and tired-- too tired to keep pushing back against the Crown of Rus. Too tired to push back against anything. He hoped that his daughter would forgive him for his next action. He hoped that his bloodline to come would understand. When he dropped his hands, the sorcerer smiled wide in triumph, as if he’d won. 

But then, Nikolai spoke, powerful words that would change the future of the Kingdom and its Crown for a long time to come. Power surged through him as he called upon a counterspell. He felt it well up within him, magic thrumming through his bones. Nikolai didn’t need to fling it with his hands, no, his words held the power alone, as he spoke clearly and concisely.

“I accept your curse, because I am an old and feeble man, but heed my words. I curse the Crown back,” Nikolai said, lips quirking into a smirk as he watched the man pause in his own spell. “I curse this land to fester and rot, and the longer it rots, the further it will spread. I curse for my hatred and anger to sink deep into the soil, leaving in its wake petrified crops and fetid game. 

“The Rot can be undone, but only by the hands of my line. You wait and see; Rus will crumble before your eyes and before long, you’ll come crawling back to a Plisetsky to fix it.”

The man’s gaze hardened as he finished his own spell, but Nikolai didn’t care anymore because what was done, was done. 

Nikolai laughed and laughed, even as he felt his bones shift and break into something anew, the opposing spell burning through his veins as--

Yuri pulled back like he had been burned, eyes wide and chest heaving. 

Seeing was an easy task and one of the first things that a sorcerer learned, but it could leave one tired and chilled to the bone. 

“Shh,” Yuri’s mother crooned. Her hands were cool against his forehead, as she smoothed his bangs back. Yuri reached out, fingers curling into the fabric of her dress, trying to find enough purchase to ground himself. “Relax,” she said, leaning over to press her forehead against his. “That’s it, little one.”

Then she pulled back, moving to grasp Yuri’s face gently between her hands. “You are young, but old enough to learn,” she said to him. “Old enough to try and understand why we are here, and why we have to stay.”

They lived in the harem at the palace Rus, but his mother wasn’t one of the ladies, she was a servant. Low of station, low of rank. Quietly forgotten, despite her heritage and abilities. Despite their proud bloodline. It was meant to be an insult. The women housed there had always been kind though-- sympathetic even-- and they doted on Yuri as well, even if he didn’t get along with the other children. 

He preferred to be alone. 

And then there was his grandfather. The Pet. 

Yuri turned to where his grandfather sat next to them. He wasn’t scared, not like the ladies of the harem. Even though Yuri had never known him as a man, he knew him. His mother had made it known that the lion wasn’t actually a lion at all, but holder of their name and magic. The man who had taught his mother everything that she knew, and in turn Yuri. His family. 

Growing up, Yuri had accepted it, but never truly understood. Now he did, eyes burning as rage welled up within him. Young enough to have child-like innocence, but old enough to be told. Old enough to learn. 

Old enough to feel the pain. 

“Yurochka,” his mother said, and he looked back to her. “Do you understand?” she asked him. 

“Yes,” he said quietly. 

“And you understand that this is my fate as well, yes?”

“Yes,” Yuri said. 

She paused before saying, “As will it be yours, in time.”

Yuri’s eyes darkened in anger. His mother didn’t judge him though, she only pressed a hand to his cheek, smoothing her thumb over the soft skin there. 

“I’ll stop it,” he said to her. 

His mother smiled at him then, patting his cheek. She didn’t believe him, Yuri realized. She wanted to, and maybe she had said the same thing when she was young, only to be thrown into the harem as a servant instead. She had never gotten the chance and she didn’t think that Yuri would either. 

Yuri was determined though; he was determined to end this, to right the wrongs that had been done to them. He turned to his grandfather once more, who was sitting on his haunches next to him, russet fur gleaming in the low lamplight. Honey-colored eyes look back at him, burning softly like soul-fire. 

Yuri reached out, sweeping his fingers along the lion’s powerful jawline. Then he pressed his forehead against his grandfather’s, fingers moving to slip into his mane. “I’ll fix it, Grandpa,” he said, tugging at the fur gently, before combing through it. “I’ll end it, I promise.”

There was a low rumble in Nikolai’s throat, as moved his snout, nuzzling the side of Yuri’s face. Acknowledgement and agreement. Maybe annoyance or disappointment; it was hard to tell. 

Yuri sank into the earthen scent of the lion, not really caring what his grandfather thought in the end.

He’d made a promise and he always held those true. 

#

When Yuri was fourteen, his grandfather died. 

Like every day before, they had said their good nights. Nikolai then nestled into the soft pad of pillows that he’d been allotted, chained to the far corner. Yuri slid into a cot with his mother. It was cramped, but Rus had bitter winters, the kind that killed with their cold. And even if a bit embarrassing, it was easier, tucked next to her, radiating heat as they tried to sleep through the frigid night. 

When Yuri woke the next morning, he was warmer than usual, cuddled against something soft. His nose was tickled by musky smelling fur, but it was so warm that he just wanted to sink into the comfort of it--

He opened his eyes blearily, because something was wrong.

Yuri was tucked in next to an unusual cat, its body stretched out lithely beside him. It had soft red-brown fur, speckled with black spots. Dread settled deep as Yuri pushed it away, before he shot upright in the cot. There was an angry yowling sound, but then it cut off. 

The creature paused, looking around, before dropping its gaze to its paws. It shifted from side to side, like it was testing its gait, stumbling slightly like a newborn kitten. Its ears stood tall, pointed tips ending in soft tufts. They twitched, as the cat’s face screwed up slightly, shaking its head, whiskers fluttering as it tried to gain its bearings.

The pit in Yuri’s stomach just fell deeper and deeper. Then the cat looked at him, eyes green like the rolling grasslands, but sad and knowing because--

His grandfather was dead, and his mother had fallen to the curse.

There was a commotion as one the concubines came into space, screaming at the sight of the unknown animal. Yuri’s mother hissed at the sound, darting to the side wildly. She was uncoordinated, not used to her low stature or walking on four legs instead of two. 

But then there was a gasp, as the woman’s eyes roamed the room, before falling to the corner where the lion lay dead. A hush fell across everything as Yuri’s mother padded across unsteadily, stopping just before the long chain across the ground. She leaned over and butted at Nikolai’s face, but the lion didn’t budge. Or breathe. 

His mother made a pitiful sound and the concubine covered her mouth in horror as she realized exactly what had happened. 

Nikolai Plisetsky wasn’t a secret within the palace. His fate had never been explicitly stated, but everyone knew. Why else would you chain up a lion and call it Izmennik?

Eventually, guards came to take his grandfather away. His mother shrieked at them, hissing as they began to haul him off. Yuri just watched silently, quietly, hands folded in his lap as he sat on the cot. 

The death of his grandfather hurt, but as much as Yuri had loved him, he hadn’t truly known the man, not like Anya Plisetsky. 

It hurt more to see what had been done to his mother. 

#

Barely a day had passed when Yuri was shuffled out of the harem by a palace guard. 

He didn’t want to go quietly, but he also knew what would happen if he fought back. So he walked alongside quietly, head held high and fists clenched tightly at his side. He wouldn’t show weakness, no matter how tired he was, or how red-rimmed his eyes were. 

Yuri was led into an opulent sitting room, trimmed with the finest of furs and silken furniture. Gold gilded the ornate crown moldings and granite floors were polished with such perfection, that Yuri could see his face in a clear reflection. 

When the crown prince of Rus swept in, Yuri realized exactly where it was that he stood. This was the parlor of Victor Nikiforov himself. Yuri had seen the king more times than he could count, half-drunk and stumbling through the harem rooms in various states of dress, but this was his first time ever meeting his son properly. Victor didn’t peruse the harem to Yuri’s knowledge.

Victor was talking to a personal guard, a man of relatively slight build and feathery black hair. The guard was flustered, glasses slipping down his face slightly before he moved to adjust them, but he nodded along as Victor spoke a furlong a minute. 

Victor paused when he caught sight of Yuri, cocking his head to the side. 

“Why are you standing?” he asked, visibly confused. “Sit, sit! There’s a seat for a reason.”

Yuri didn’t at first, staring awkwardly at the armchair next to him. Victor sighed, running a hand through his silvery hair as he fell into the one opposite him. 

“Please, have a seat,” Victor said, a polite and formal request this time. 

This time, Yuri did as he was told. 

The guardsman flanked Victor, moving to stand behind him. A servant brought over a samovar and tea cups, arranged neatly on a tray. Yuri eyed it warily, but Victor paid him no mind, motioning for the servant to pour them each a cup. Yuri watched as milk was added before the cup was handed to him. He took it carefully between his hands, because the gilded porcelain was likely worth more than his pathetic life. 

“I understand that you are hurting,” Victor said to him. 

Yuri knew the rules and stared at the liquid swirling around in his cup instead of looking up. He could feel Victor’s gaze on him, running the length of his figure. Then the prince sighed again, not out of annoyance, but out of exhaustion. 

Yuri was surprised by that. 

Victor decided to try another tactic. “What is your name?” he asked.

“Yuri,” he said clearly, and probably with more diction than the prince would expect. A dumb thought, because the Plisestky’s were educated and once even renowned. Their fall hadn’t affected that one bit, not with his mother’s insistence of learning to read and write, and speak like a person worth something.

“Yuri,” Victor said. “Please look at me.”

Yuri did. Victor sat across from him in all of his princely finery, fingers curled gently around his own little teacup. His face was finely made, with high cheek bones and a well-cut jawline. His hair sparkled like silver moonlight. 

But his face was sad. He regarded Yuri with genuine sympathy and for a fleeting moment, Yuri thought that maybe the some within the Nikiforov line weren’t as bad as he’d been led to believe. But that couldn’t be. It had to be wrong. His grandfather wouldn't have lied to him. 

The things that he had seen had been true. 

Still, Victor cut an odd picture as a whole and it put Yuri on edge. 

Always watch for the kind ones, Yurochka. Sometimes they are the nastiest of them all.

For once in his damn life, Yuri decided to listen to his mother’s advice. 

“Things will change in the harem,” Victor said. “With your…” The prince trailed off, before he settled on, “Your mother’s primary function was to protect the women of the harem.”

Yuri cocked his head to the side at that and before he could stop himself, he blurted, “My mother was a servant.”

Victor let out a small laugh. “Yes, well, that is true. But she was also a carefully trained and highly skilled sorceress. Despite your grandfather’s indiscretions, your mother hadn’t done anything wrong. We offered her the honor of at least redeeming part of the Plisetsky name.”

They hadn’t offered her anything. The crown had forced her into servitude, but Yuri wasn’t dumb enough to accuse them of that outright. He took a sip of his tea instead, fingers so tight around the handle of his cup that his knuckles were white. 

Victor watched him carefully and then said, “Which brings me to why I’ve brought you here. I understand that you are grieving and I wish that I could have waited, but--” He paused, leaning over to serve himself more tea. 

Yuri wasn’t sure what surprised him more, the fact that he did it himself or that he handed the cup off to his guard. The quaint man behind him accepted it quietly. Sharing his teacup with an underling, how absurd.

But Victor didn’t look remotely phased, folding his hands across his lap as he looked to Yuri again.

“Your mother was the primary bodyguard of the harem,” Victor said to him. “We both know that that isn’t the case anymore, regrettably.” Victor didn’t seem regretful about it, not really. Only that his grandfather had passed away and that Yuri was grieving. “Which is where you come in.”

“Me?” Yuri asked, a little bit indelicately. 

“Yes. Surely she was teaching you?”

Yuri hesitated. His mother had and even his grandfather to an extent, showing him what he could with sight. Yuri was good, fantastic even, well beyond decent and mediocre. He was a force to be reckoned with. 

That being said, it wasn’t like they were public with these little lessons. The women in the harem weren’t known for being quiet, but they’d treated his mother kind and often turned a blind eye. Now it made sense. They protected their protector, even if it was only in a small and quiet sort of way. 

Yuri had newfound affection for the concubines that occupied the harem. 

“Yes,” Yuri finally said, knowing that there was no point in lying.

“Good,” Victor said with a nod. “Then you will assume her position.”

Yuri blanched at that, because that meant only one thing. “Aren’t men who work in the harem-- um--”

Victor blinked and thought for an excruciatingly long moment, baffled. Yuri could feel himself turn bright red, as he motioned vaguely to his crotch with supreme embarrassment. Ridiculous, Yuri thought, that it would be his main concern. 

“Oh!” Victor said, mouth popping open into a small little circle. “Oh. Well, yes, usually.” Yuri felt himself squirm at the word usually, and Victor must have seen it because he immediately continued with, “But not in your case, I would think. You’re still young.”

“And virile,” Yuri said testily, unable to help himself. 

The guard behind Victor still held his cup, but stood alert at the casual comment. The prince waved it off with a small laugh. “I have no doubt, Yuri.” And then Victor leaned forward in his chair, a shadow falling over his face as his expression changed just the slightest bit. “Surely, you know what the punishment for sleeping with a member of the harem is, yes?”

The crown prince didn’t look like an awkward goofball anymore; Victor looked like a wolf carefully stalking its prey, entirely at ease with slipping into the role quickly and efficiently. 

Yuri swallowed. Yes, he knew the punishment. He’d seen it carried out in person. “Death,” he said. 

Victor’s mouth curved into a cruel looking smile. “Yes, death. You would be no exception to that, do you understand?”

“I have no interest,” Yuri finally said. It was true. Even at fourteen, there’d never really been the desire to seek out one of the ladies and fall into her arms. In fact, Yuri had never posed much interest in anyone for that matter. Not the luscious curves of the concubines, or even the taut and hardened muscles of the men that stood outside the Pavilion entrance. 

Victor looked at him, really looked at him, eyes sweeping over his form as he searched for a lie. Then he leaned back again, goofy little smile plastered across his mouth again as his more cheerful persona returned. 

“I believe you,” Victor told him. “Your mother has served our ladies well. I trust that you will do the same.”

“Of course,” Yuri said, “but there’s a condition.”

Everyone in the room paused and Yuri cursed his stupid, dumb mouth for its impulsiveness. The man behind Victor held his cup in one hand, the other already on his sword, thumbing the hilt from its sheath in a maneuver so quick, that Yuri wondered where the bumbling fool with glasses slipping down his nose had gone.

Victor put his hand up. The guard paused, his almond shaped eyes narrowing slightly. “No, I’m curious,” he said. “Go on Yuri, speak freely.”

Well then. The prince had given him a rare opportunity to speak his mind, so Yuri took it for all that it was worth.

“Promise me that I’ll never have to see your naked ass streaking through the Pavilion. His Royal Majesty is bad enough and I could live an entire life without seeing you as well.”

Victor’s lips curled into an amused smile. “You won’t have to worry about that, I think.”

Yuri didn’t quite understand, but the prince didn’t seem annoyed one bit. It seemed more that found the mere thought of it funny. 

“Yuuri will escort you back to the Pavillion,” Victor then said, waving towards the guard. For a moment Yuri was confused, because that wasn’t how his name was pronounced and the inflection was all wrong. He knew that he wouldn’t ever be allowed to go anywhere within the palace alone. 

But then the guard let out a soft sigh from behind Victor. He rounded the chair, placed the teacup by the samovar carefully and then turned to Yuri.  

“After you,” he said quietly as he motioned to the door. Yuri had known that the man was a foreigner, but his accent wasn’t something he’d ever fathomed. His mouth curled around Russian with elegance, everything carefully pronounced. 

Not very guard like and more like an educated nobleman. 

Yuri stood from the chair and placed his cup down as well, but then paused. “Actually, I do have a serious request, if you’d allow it.” Victor motioned for him to continue. “Can I get a zoology book or something? Whatever my mother turned into… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Victor was surprised by the request, blinking slowly as he considered then. Then he said, “I think I can manage that. Yuuri, if you please?”

Yuuri nodded slightly and they both looked to Yuri. Waiting. Right. Yuri bowed with an exaggerated flourish, because he had the distinct feeling that it would probably piss off Victor. And Yuri, being an admitted brat, just couldn’t help himself. 

Victor huffed out a little laugh, but Yuuri’s mouth tightened the tiniest bit. There it was again, that tiny little crack in his shy, nervous demeanor. Yuri didn’t know how, but he could tell that Yuuri was the kind of man one shouldn’t cross, which was probably why he had been handpicked as the personal guard for the prince. 

Yuri shot the guard an insufferable grin. “After you,” he said, motioning to the door. 

Yuuri regarded him coolly, before he pressed a hand against the hilt of his sword casually. 

Right. Yuri shouldn’t piss the man off. He left the room first, Yuuri close on his heels. 

#

“Are the women tucked away?” Yuri asked.

Georgi’s mouth tugged into a frown, like he was offended that Yuri had even bothered to grace his presence. Yuri shot him a nasty glare right back, because even if Georgi was part of the prince’s guard, Yuri technically held a position higher than him. If you squinted.

But he was also a Plisetsky, so it didn’t fucking matter.

Eventually, Georgi answered, looking down at him from atop his horse. “Yes, they are.”

Yuri huffed in annoyance, but bit back a retort. There wasn’t a point in fighting with the man. “Alright then,” Yuri said, grabbing the reins of his own Bashkir. He pulled himself up elegantly, knowing that it would piss of Georgi. 

Once rabble, always rabble, was the man’s generously used motto, and it didn’t matter that Victor expected him to behave. Georgi did, he just did so with complaint. 

“I’ll fall back,” Yuri said. “Ride alongside the carriage. You stay up here. As long as we’re alert, we should be fine. Especially with that idiot up there.”

“Watch your mouth,” Georgi snapped. “That’s His Royal Highness.”

Yuri smiled back at the man, amused and not caring one bit. Of course it was Victor; The crown prince insisted on overseeing even the most innocuous missions personally, to his detriment even. He was a never ending annoyance for his royal guard, and it was the one thing that Yuri liked about the man. 

Yuri also knew that despite Georgi’s threats, he wouldn’t actually do anything. The curse of the Plisetsky name came with nasty sneers and name-calling, but it also with a weird brand of protection. There wasn’t any point in harming him. Eventually the curse would get him. And because of Rus’ fucked up sense of revenge, that meant more. 

So, Yuri pushed the limits when he was in the mood. Georgi’s dour demeanor never failed to put him there.

Finally, Georgi let out a long sigh. “Do what you will,” he said. “But heed your own words and keep alert. I know it’s been years since you’ve left the palace proper, so don’t get distracted by the grandeur of Rus.”

“Grandeur,” Yuri repeated. “Right.”

The thing about it was there was no grandeur in their homeland, not anymore. Not since his grandfather had cursed the land to rot away until their name was redeemed. Yuri had never seen the worst of it, but there were little signs. 

A tree, pitted with black rot and decay. Festering patches of bare prairie, where grass refused to grow. Occasional game, walking stilted and stuttered and foaming at the mouth, until a bowman shot it dead. 

Grandeur. 

Yuri drove his horse around, doubling back to trot alongside the carriage. Concubines didn’t usually leave the Pavilion, but Victor was travelling west to settle a dispute with the neighboring Khaganate. Yuri didn’t like the idea of bargaining with the lives of women, but he had no say in the matter. 

And so, the three most beautiful had been picked, dressed in finery and loaded into a carriage to head West. To head to their doom. Or grace. Yuri didn’t pretend to know anything about the Khan, or the kind of man that he was aside from the knowledge that he liked women and alcohol. Yuri flashed a look at the second carriage, chock full of their finest vodka. 

Three days on the bumpy road, and Yuri hoped that it wouldn’t be for naught. His ass was sore from the saddle, he hadn’t slept well and he was exhausted. And there was still a week left, if everything went their way. 

A horse parted from the front of their group, winding back. Victor’s personal guard, whom he irritably, shared a name with. Yuri was still annoyed by that, even a few years later. 

“Boy,” Yuuri said. Boy. He said it softly, lips curling around the accented word. It was condescending as hell, but Yuri knew better than to comment on it. Of all the men in Victor’s cadre, Yuuri was by far the most deadly. His calm and unassuming demeanor belied his carefully honed skill, and Yuri had learned a long time ago that it wasn’t worth poking the hornet’s nest with a stick. 

Yuri looked at him but didn’t bother answering. Yuuri looked tired, dark shadows under his thin rimmed glasses, but he held himself straight and relatively alert. 

“His Royal Highness is concerned about bandits,” Yuuri said. “Will you send her to scout ahead?”

“He has the power to command her himself,” Yuri said to him, sounding only a little bit bitter. 

Yuuri blinked slowly, before straightening in his saddle, hand slipping to his sword hilt casually. It wasn’t a threat; it was something Yuuri did when he was annoyed. Yuri being cross with him was always at the top of the list. 

“You know as well as I do that she won’t listen to him.” A pause and the downturn of his lips. “Even if is expected.” The because he’s the crown prince was unspoken, but Yuuri leveled him with a heavy stare. 

Yuri was the one to eventually back down, waving his hand. “Fine, fine, I’ll send her ahead. But next time, he rides his ass back here to tell me himself.”

“Boy,” Yuuri warned. There was the tiniest crack in his carefully crafted shell, and Yuri wondered if he’d finally pushed just a little too far. But Yuuri didn’t say anything else.

“Pah, whatever.”

Yuuri’s hand left his sword, but he watched him for an uncomfortable length of time, calculated and pondering. Just as Yuri was about to say something, the guard turned away, leading his horse back to the front. 

Yuuri was a mystery. He was from the east, could read, write and speak Russian with impressive ease, and Yuri wasn’t sure that his shy and demure attitude wasn’t entirely an act. At the same time, he was a highly trained soldier with skill unlike Yuri had ever seen. 

Being a Plisetsky was likely the only reason that Yuuri hadn’t killed him yet, with as much as he willfully disrespected Victor. There wasn’t any point in dwelling on it. 

Yuri left out a loud whistle. A moment passed before a lynx came running from the underbrush to the east. Short in stature, but fast and quick, with thick and powerful legs of russet fur and black spots. The lynx moved to walk along side the company as they moved on, stretching its legs out.

He looked down and said, “Mom.”

Her large ears twitched as she regarded him, green eyes expressive and aware. Yuri sighed at the sight because he hated seeing her like this, reduced to such a thing, as magnificent a creature she was. 

“His Royal Pain in the Ass is worried about trouble. Will you scout ahead and see if you can sniff anything out?”

His mother let out an amused huff at the nickname and then with one last little shake of her hind paw, she shot back into the brush. 

Yuri stared after her, before turning his attention back to the slow crawl of their company. The carriage rolled alongside him noisely. Soldiers joked from behind, and if he squinted, Yuri could see Victor far ahead atop his horse, Yuuri just a hairsbreadth away. 

Yuri let out a long and tired sigh, settling in the rest of the day. 

#

Yuri was yanked awake. His mother hissed by his head, his sleeve ripping slightly as she pulled harshly at it. Yuri was still half-asleep, batting at her blindly. His mother let go of him to hiss properly, before biting at his shoulder. 

“Okay!” he snapped, sitting up, trying to rub away the sleep in his eyes. “Okay, I’m--”

Their camp was in chaos. Yuri could hear the slide of cold steel as soldiers barked orders around them. And then more yells in a rural dialect, clearly not their men. 

“Shit,” Yuri hissed, throwing his blanket back and jumping to his feet. His mother bit at his heels, trying to urge him to move on. “I know,” he snapped. She wouldn’t like it, but he would would deal with it later. Yuri had one job and one job only, and it was to help prevent exactly this kind of thing. 

Despite the din around them and the camp alight with fighting, the carriage seemed unharmed when he reached it. Victor’s guards were mostly meatheads, but they had proven themselves somewhat worthy, as whoever had attacked their company hadn’t made it far into the camp. 

Yuri threw the door open to double check. The three women cowered together in the corner, but were unharmed. “Stay here,” he told them. “Do not leave, no matter what you hear out there. Do you understand?” One nodded, the older one with pretty red hair, and all three stayed wisely quiet. Yuri let out a sigh, before pulling back and closing the door to the carriage. 

He turned to come face to face with Yuuri, whose face was dark with a dangerous look, hand clasped tightly around a sword. 

“Victor has disappeared,” he said to him, and Yuri barely processed that Yuuri had called the prince by his first name, not his title. His mouth parted, but Yuuri cut in. “Boy! Have you seen him?”

“No!” Yuri snapped. “I just woke and I checked on the women. I have no idea where the prince is--”

“We have to find him,” Yuuri said. “Leave the women for now; he’s the priority.”

“He’s not my responsibility,” Yuri said smartly. “In case you forgot, I owe nothing to the crown.”

Yuuri looked at him, eyes narrowed to tiny little slits, lips pulled into a thin line. He looked dangerous, treacherous even, and Yuri wasn’t stupid. Yuri knew that his head could be gone with a simple movement, rolling across the pavement as Yuuri slid his blade back into the sheath at his side. 

But then, there was something that cracked there, a slip in that perilous facade. “I don’t ask for the crown, I ask for myself. Help me find Victor, please.”

Yuri blinked at that. He’d never heard Yuuri say please, let alone speak in such a pleading tone but--

“Fine,” Yuri said, and he hoped to high hell that Yuuri wouldn’t forget it. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Yuuri surprised him by reaching out and grabbing his wrist gently between his cold fingers. “A favor,” he said to him. “I’ll owe you a favor. Anything within reason.”

Yuri stared at him for a beat, before yanking his hand away. “Whatever. Bandits, I presume?” Yuuri nodded, hand falling back to his side. “You go that way and I’ll head the opposite. Maybe Victor hasn’t been dumb enough to pick a fight.”

Judging by Yuuri’s pinched expression, it was more likely than not. Suddenly, Yuuri’s constant attention and close handedness made since; if he didn’t play babysitter so well, the prince would have died years ago with all the trouble he found himself in. 

Yuri darted to the left, already conjuring a spell just in case. Energy crackled at his fingertips, ready for a moment’s notice. He told himself that he didn’t actually care about Victor. He didn’t. The prince was an insufferable man, prone awkward bouts of childlike innocence, but Yuri knew better. 

Victor was heavily underestimated, incredibly manipulative and freakishly smart. People called him charming, irresistible and loyal. Yuri called him insufferable.

But, despite everything the Plisetsky’s were known for, he’s treated them with an odd brand of dignity that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the court. They had to find Victor soon, because if he wound up dead, who knew what would happen then? 

Or what Yuuri would do in retaliation, and honestly, that was a far more terrifying thought.

Yuri skirted the the camp. Their company wasn’t big and it seemed like the bandits weren’t numerous either. Ther camp was chaos, but only because they’d been caught unaware in the middle of the night, not because they were outnumbered. 

“Well looksie here,” a man said, just a little too loudly in a rough, rural dialect. Yuri’s head snapped to the side and he ducked, crawling closer. “We thought you were just some merchants, but it looks like we’ve pulled a noble from his bed.”

Shit.

Yuri can just see Victor from his position where he was hidden. The prince was half dressed, but at least armed, holding a decorative sword that was worth more money than the cost of a house. Wisely, Victor didn’t correct the man’s assumption, only held out his blade. 

“If you just leave, I won’t kill you,” Victor said. “I’ll even let your men go with you.”

The bandit was an older man, oily hair tied back and his thin body swallowed by threadbare clothing. “Nah, I don’t like that deal. I’d rather off you and steal the goods.”

Vitor sighed and held his sword out, taking a simple form, and Yuri was surprised to find that he seemed to know what he was doing. “Last chance,” Victor said to him. “I really don’t like to hurt people.”

The bandit spat at him and lunged forward. Victor met him in the middle, swords shrieking off of each other before he deflected the blow to the side. Victor was good, practiced even, and he wondered if he sparred with Yuuri. The bandit seemed just as surprised by his skill. 

Yuri crept closer, prepping a spell, fingers jittering with energy. It wouldn’t do any good to jump into the fray unprepared and ill timed, so he waited for the right moment. And waited some more. Victor kept pushing the man back, blow by blow, and Yuri crept inching closer and closer. 

And then Victor slipped, his boot sliding along a rotted piece of ground, slick with putrid soil and grass. He stumbled and the bandit smiled, raising his sword to take advantage of the moment. 

There was no way that Yuri would be fast enough, even with his spell at the ready. The bandit was already closing in, blade parallel as he cut into Victor’s side. 

A large blur jumped into the fray, yowling and hissing as it launched into the bandit. Yuri blanched, watching as his mother sunk her fangs deep into the man’s arm. The bandit cursed, trying to shake her off. She eventually lost her grip, dropping to the ground between him and Victor. 

Yuri clambered over to the prince as his mother stalked between them and the bandit. They both hesitated, pacing opposite each other.

“I’m fine,” Victor grit out when Yuri reached his side, pale faced and holding a hand to his wound. It bled badly.

“I told Yuuri that I’d make sure you’d get back to him,” Yuri snapped, pulling at his hand, trying to get a better look. 

There was something in Victor's expression that softened a bit, something that made Yuri want to pause, but it wasn’t the time for that. “It’s not that bad,” Victor said. “Go help her--”

Yuri was already turning, already prepping a counter spell, about to throw out bolts of lightening to help, but-- 

They were on the ground, tussling. The bandit had dropped his sword and swapped it for a hunting dagger; a better choice for close combat. His mother had lost the advantage and despite being more powerful, the bandit managed to slip the knife deep between her ribs. 

“No!” Yuri yelled. 

She didn’t go down without a fight though. With renewed vigor, she jumped high, clamping her jaw around the bandit’s neck, yanking. His shriek was cut off as he fell back to the ground, thrashing and gurgling. 

Anya backed off and they all watched the man choke on his blood. Then she swayed slightly, falling to her side. Yuri found his footing just enough to run to her. She breathed shallow and rattling breaths, blood pooling from her mouth.

“No,” Yuri cried, pressing his fingers into her scruff. Her green eyes were clouded with pain as she looked to him and she let out a pitiful sound. Then her eyes slipped closed. “No, no, no,” Yuri said, shaking her. “Wake up. Mom, you can’t, you can’t--”

She was already gone, her chest still. Yuri felt tears slip from his eyes, but he refused to sob, wiping at his face angrily. He was a man grown, and men didn’t cry, they didn’t, they didn’t. 

If he had only been a little quicker, a little faster, more prepared; then he might have been able to save her. 

Yuuri burst into the scene, sword aloft and ready, immediately startling at the sight of Victor on the ground, pale and bleeding. Then his gaze fell across Yuri, who leaned over his mother, fingers stroking through her blood soaked fur. 

And then, something struck through Yuri, a peculiar sort of sensation. Suddenly, he was hyper aware, pushing away from his mother’s body. He turned to Yuuri, who was leaning over Victor. He had pulled open his shirt to take a look at the damage and judging by the look on his face, it was worse than Victor had let on. 

“How bad?” Yuri asked, standing back up and hobbling over to them. 

“It’s not--”

“Not good,” Yuuri cut in, pressing his hand harshly against Victor’s side. The prince yelped. “It’s a bleeder and it won’t stop. There isn’t enough time for stitches--”

“Move,” Yuri said to him. Yuuri shot him a look, the one where his face took on a threatening edge. 

“Do you want him to die? Move,” Yuri said. 

“Boy--”

“I don’t have a lot of time,” Yuri cut in. He could feel it, the curse taking root. His skin prickled and it was like there was a slow-burning fire building in his core. “If you want me to help, I have to hurry.”

“What do you mean, you don’t have a lot of time?” Yuuri asked, resisting when Yuri tried to push past him.

“My mother is dead, which means--” Yuri broke off, annoyed.  “Look, I can feel the curse transferring. Let me see, otherwise I won’t be able to help at all.”

Yuuri seemed to finally grasp what he meant and shuffled to the side. Victor was considerably paler than before, sweat beading along his brow. “It’s not that bad,” he said, and Yuri frowned at his instance.

“Stop talking, you idiot. You’ll tire yourself out.”

“That’s Royal idiot, to you,” Victor said, a bit delirious. The cut was fairly deep, but clean. It wouldn’t be hard to fix, but Yuri would have to work fast, because he could feel the magic welling up in him as the curse started to take root. 

Victor’s head dipped suddenly and Yuuri caught him. 

“Keep him awake,” Yuri said. “I need to focus on this.”

Yuuri shifted to pull him halfway into his lap, leaning over to brush the Victor’s sweaty bangs from his forehead. “Vitya,” he said softly, tapping his cheek lightly. Yuri paused only for a moment, flashing a glance at the two. 

Victor mumbled softly, eyes creaking open and Yuuri smiled at him, murmuring something in his native language. Yuri felt like he was intruding, so he turned back to his work, calling forth a spell. He’d always been good at healing, so fixing the wound while a delicate process, wasn’t hard. He just needed to concentrate. 

“Yuuri,” Victor sighed, and Yuuri brushed his fingers through his silvery hair, his voice murmuring low in that musical language of his. 

The burning underneath Yuri’s skin spread to an itching frenzy. He was almost done, nearly there, just a little bit more. Sweat beaded along his brow as he focused on the delicate work, but it was hard to concentrate with the fire spreading through his veins. 

He yelped, surprising Yuuri who flashed him a look of worry. “It’s nothing,” Yuri snapped, but it was everything, it was almost the only thing that he could focus on. Victor’s skin closed over, smooth and pale. He would need water and rest, but he would be fine. 

Yuri sat back, grabbing at his arms, nails raking at his skin. “Shit,” he said. “Shit, it burns.” 

“Boy--” Yuuri started, but Yuri screamed. 

He screamed and screamed and screamed, as the fire consumed him. 

#

It had taken several hours to pile up and burn the men who had attacked them. 

Yuri had never felt so useless in his entire life. 

It was an odd thing, walking on four legs. His entire center of gravity had shifted and the way that his limbs bent was unfamiliar. The first few steps he had taken, Yuri had fallen right over, tumbling to his side on uneven feet. Yuuri had tried to help right him, but he’d hissed in return, mouth moving awkwardly around a mouthful of fangs that he wasn’t used to. 

Fur was hot, but also cool, and it was a strange sensation to try and get used to. And the smells. Yuri had never realized how terrible some things smelled, and how overwhelming other things were. Victor still smelled like blood even though he had changed into clean clothes hours ago, and was now resting quietly on a cot in his tent. 

Yuri sat on his haunches by his mother, leg twitching awkwardly as he tried to figure out the best position. She was dead on the ground, body ice cold and lifeless. He stared. His eyesight was amazingly good in the dark, and he marveled at just how far he could see-- but she was the only thing that he could focus on. 

Boots fell heavily behind him, crunching twigs and leaves along the rotted soil. Yuri smelled him before he saw him, the scent of warm honey and steel. Not what he would have expected, but then again, nothing was expected anymore. The world seemed utterly different now, the colors more intense and sharper. Smells rich and thick, and almost overwhelming. 

All of it without his mother.

Yuuri stood next to him for a long moment and then did something unexpected-- he dropped to sit beside him, knees pulled close to his chest and slightly spread, as he rested his arms across them.

He didn’t say anything immediately, the silence companionable. Yuri realized then, that there was so much that he didn’t know about the guardsman. Despite his annoyance at his half demure, half dangerous personality, he didn’t dislike the man. But the extent of his knowledge was that he’d been brought to the court as a child, and that he was incredibly dangerous. That was it. 

And now, he couldn’t ask him. He’d never be able to. 

Yuri would never ask a person anything ever again. 

It was dumb to think that Yuri had wasted his time, maybe, but it was something that weighed heavy on him. He’d gained so much in his transformation, but he’d lost the things that had made him human. As a child, he’d thought the curse would be fun; having the ability to be different, exploring things that you never would otherwise. Napping in pillows the entire day. 

But now it felt like torture.

“I will never forget what she did for him,” Yuuri finally said. His voice was quiet and soothing, like soft river water that smoothed over stones. “For Victor. Or you, for that matter. The both of you saved him. So for that, I will never forget.”

Yuri was still figuring out how to express himself in his new form. He shifted slightly next to Yuuri, paws shuffling against the ground. Staring at his mother unblinking. Yuuri did the same. 

Then, Yuuri stood and pulled the belt from his waist. He unsheathed his sword, dropping the blade to the ground. Yuuri then held the scabbard vertical and chucked it into the soil, using his foot to dig it in. He leveraged the thing, breaking into the hard earth that wasn’t yet rotted, trying to till it. 

Yuuri wasn’t wearing his full uniform anymore. He’d pulled the jacket off and wore only the linen undershirt, half tucked into his pants. He was quiet as he worked at the ground, and Yuri watched in confusion. Then Yuuri dropped to his knees, dragging the sheath forward as he began scooping the earth away. 

He was digging a grave, Yuri realized. 

Yuri pulled up on unsteady feet and ambled over next to him, using his thick paws and sharp claws to help. The motion was awkward, but he eventually settled into it, and they worked side-by-side to dig a spot big enough to bury his mother. 

Yuuri couldn’t lift her easily, but he managed, settling her into the grave gently. He said nothing as they covered her. 

Then they stared at the mound in silence. Yuri couldn’t cry. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, tears wouldn’t come. So he just sat there forlornly. Yuuri reached out and pressed a dirty, soiled hand into his scruff, rubbing at it gently. 

“Yuri,” he said to him, the first time he’d ever called him by his proper name. It’d always been you or boy. “I’m sorry. For everything. It isn’t fair. Not to her, and not to you.”

Yuri knew that he meant it. Yuuri was the kind of man that didn’t mince his words; everything that he said, was said with intent. In that moment, Yuri didn’t hate him and he saw why the prince was particularly close to this man. 

They sat there and watched her grave until the sun rose. 

#

Yuri was bored, he was always bored, but it never seemed like he was aimlessly doing anything. He watched the servants mill about in Victor’s rooms. He watched advisors come and go, and he listened in on their conversations, tail swishing behind him.

Sometimes Yuuri pet him as he knelt beside him, hands combing through his soft fur. Not out of pity, but out of genuine affection. 

Loathe he was to admit it, Yuuri had grown on him. It turned out that his quiet demeanor wasn’t an act and he truly was an empathetic man. Just one that could slice a head from a man’s body with barely the flick of his wrist. 

Yuri was even more annoyed by the fact that he didn’t hate Victor. He didn’t like him, he barely tolerated him really-- but he didn’t hate him. 

And honestly, being chained up in the prince’s personal parlor was better than the harem, despite some setbacks. Like Victor’s intensely passionate relationship with Yuuri. It had come as a shock, but it shouldn’t have, not with how the guard had reacted to Victor nearly dying. 

Or the way that he had treated Yuri in the aftermath of saving his life. 

Yuuri helped Victor dress that morning. Victor stood half dressed, his jacket still open and chest bared. Yuuri slipped his hand along his side, fingers trailing the pink scar that the bandit had left. Yuri watched in boredom, rolled his eyes as much as a tiger could manage, and then let out a huff. 

Both men glanced his way, and Victor laughed. “Alright, alright,” he said, as Yuuri went to button the garment up. 

It wasn’t casual, what they had, and it hadn’t been for a long time. They were careful enough, and the servants kept their mouths shut. Victor’s advisors didn’t understand why he wouldn’t take a wife or claim an heir through the harem, but it was only a matter of time until something happened. 

The idea didn’t sit well with Yuri. They had worked to hard to keep what they had and while Yuri told himself that his concern was only as someone who didn’t want to deal with Victor in the midst of massive heartbreak-- that wasn’t it. Yuri cared for them, even if it was the tiniest sliver of care that he would never admit to. Ever.

“There, there, Yurio,” Victor said, glancing in his mirror. “All dressed now.”

Yuri hissed at  the dumb nickname, but sank into the soft touch of Yuuri’s hand. He knew exactly where to scratch, right behind his ear, and Yuri’s eyes sank half-lidded as he purred lowly. “Let Victor be,” Yuuri said softly. “Let him have that.”

It’s what he always said, so Yuri begrudgingly hadn’t bitten Victor’s hand off yet. 

But, as the days wore on, Yuri learned that time flowed differently when you were a tiger. 

Servants came and went, as did fashion trends. Victor no longer dressed in blues and silvers, it was now reds and golds, and tassels and chains. Yuri watched the prince dance around a prospective marriage proposal. And then another. And another. 

Then one day, he realized that there were silver strands in Yuuri’s soft black hair, and that Victor had soft laugh lines around the corners of his mouth. 

Yuri had no idea how much time had passed and it disturbed him greatly. 

One night, Victor and Yuuri were having dinner together as they did every night. Yuri was chained up next to them, watching as they laughed and ate. Yuri had been given a meal as well, but he didn’t feel like eating. 

He never felt like doing anything lately, it felt like. 

Yuuri was the first to notice. 

Later, as Victor was dressing down for a bath, Yuuri took the moment to come over to him. Yuri was laying limp, head cradled by his paws as he watched the room with little interest. 

“Boy?” Yuuri asked him, nudging Yuri’s side with a slippered foot. When he didn’t answer, Yuuri knelt down to look at him directly. “Yuri?” he asked, the first time he’d used his name proper since Yuri’s mother had died. 

Yuri let out a frustrated huff and Yuuri frowned, but didn’t ask what was wrong. It’s not like Yuri could answer him anyhow, not in a traditional sense. Instead, Yuuri just reached out, pressing his fingers into his warm scruff and scratched there for a long moment. 

“I wish that I could say that it will get better,” Yuuri finally said to him, “but I don’t like to lie. But know this Yuri; Victor and I care for you.”

Yuri didn’t doubt it. Even as much as they annoyed them with their love-dovey sappiness, or Victor’s childish whining, or Yuuri’s quiet platitudes. Yuri didn’t doubt it one bit, because they didn’t have to treat him the way that they did. 

He knew that it wasn’t only because they felt like they owed him something. Over time, things had changed. 

Eventually, Victor peeked around the corner, wearing only a robe. When his face fell on them, it fell slightly, lips tugged into a soft little frown as he just watched, Yuuri’s fingers moving through Yuri’s fur with careful intent. 

Yuri couldn’t help it, the soft feeling of the touch lulling him slightly. His eyes dipped halfway closed and Yuuri offered him a soft and rare smile. 

“That’s it, Yuri. Get some rest.”

He would. Yuuri’s fingers left him as he stood. He heard the hushed murmurs between him and Victor, something something Vitya. 

More time passed, weeks melting into each other as Yuri wasted the days away.  One afternoon, the advisors of Rus held a small meeting with Victor in his parlor. Yuri lounged along his pillows, sprawled out and belly up as he stretched his back. He only half listened, until certain words caught his ear. 

Yuri rolled over onto his stomach as his ears twitched, suddenly more alert.

That day, he learned that seven years had passed. 

#

“Curses!”

Yuri opened an eye groggily, his sight quickly adjusting in the dark room. There was a servant near him, a basket of laundry tucked underneath her arm. She cursed again, trying to make her way through the pitch black parlor. 

It was odd, Yuri thought. Usually a few oil lamps remained lit for such a reason. 

The woman was young and cute, hair tucked into a neat little braided bun at the base of her neck. Not a new servant, but a kind one who would sneak him extra meat when she brought him his meals. She was trying to find her footing, but Victor wasn’t known for keeping his work tidy. Books and stacks of paper were strewn about with the express demand for them to be left alone. 

“Chaos makes the brain work harder,” Victor had once told Yuuri. Yuuri had only sighed in return. 

“Oh bother,” the girl sighed, but managed to pick her away across the room. She didn’t even pause to blink in his direction. There had been a time where the servants treated him with apprehension, but over the years he’d gained a reputation for being a lazy pet.

Years. Pet. Yuri hated the mere idea of it. 

But then the girl tripped again, ankle curled into his chain as she went down entirely. The chain was pulled taut and Yuri along with it, slightly choked. She wiggled around, trying to free her leg, and the chain tugged a little bit more. 

Yuri sat up, trying to move with the chain as she worked herself free.

And then there was a creaking of metal as his collar undid itself. It clattered to the ground, rolling slightly, the chain falling slack. They both paused. 

“Oh,” the servant breathed, her eyes snapping to him, like she was suddenly afraid that he might attack her now that he was free.

But Yuri was more concerned with how weightless he suddenly felt, no longer chained down by a heavy metal cuff and lead. They usually checked the collar every once in awhile, but Victor had waved the thought away the last time it was brought up. It must have loosed and the girl tripping over it had pulled it apart entirely. 

He stood properly, stretching his long body. She remained frozen to her spot on the floor, eyes as wide as saucers. 

Yuri had been given a chance. He could escape into the wild, leave this place and never return. He could be free, instead of chained to the wall, suffering through monotonous routine as he watched everyone else live their lives. 

He took a step forward and her voice hitched. She hadn’t meant to, but he was grateful to her. Yuri bent forward and pressed his forehead to hers. He closed his eyes and just felt, trying to show her his thanks. 

Her fingers reached up into his fur. “You should go,” she said. “You should get out of here and never come back.” 

Yuri pulled away and gave her one last look, before he quietly stalked through the parlor, leaving the girl behind. Everything was quiet in the dead of the night, as Yuri padded through the rooms. 

Then he paused at a door, half open, lamplight flickering low beyond it. Hushed voices and murmurs, and Yuuri sighing a soft Vitya. Victor’s quiet laughter in response.

For a brief moment, Yuri wondered if he would miss them. Victor’s dumb antics, but quiet intelligence. Yuuri’s kind words and scritches, well placed when he needed them. Yuuri had once told him that they cared for him together. As a unit. 

It wasn’t that it didn’t mean a lot, it was just that his freedom meant more. 

Yuri watched the door for a long moment and then turned to the porch. Like most nights, the doors were thrown wide open to let the cool air. Curtains blew gently with a breeze. Yuri’s heart beat heavily as he neared them. Before he could change his mind, counted one, two, three and leapt. 

It wasn’t a far jump to the ground.

#

Yuri was not prepared for the true devastation of The Rot as he made his way south. 

Rus wouldn’t be safe for him. Victor wasn’t an unkind man, but he wouldn’t let Yuri roam free either. He’d allowed him freedom to listen in, whenever he held chambers in his private quarters, likely because he had never thought he’d escape. 

Yuri was privy to a lot of private things and not above blackmail, even if he cared for them. The knowledge of Yuuri and Victor’s relationship alone was enough to get the guardsman executed with little thought. 

Yuri didn’t want to, but he hold those cards close to his chest. Just in case. 

The Rot was the worst near the palace at the center of Rus. The earth was dry and craggy, blackened with fetid soil. There weren’t any crops. The game left was insane with madness, tottering around on weakened limbs and foaming at the mouth. 

Yuri had heard of the drain on resources, having to import food and crops from elsewhere, but he hadn’t expected this. 

The people were worse. Children skinny and thin boned, and tired parents with dry-cracked hands as they tried to till soil that wouldn’t bloom anything. 

Yuri knew how to reverse it, but as a tiger he was utterly useless when it came to casting magic. The Plisetsky line would end with him and Rus would tumble down alongside. Yuri wondered if it had been worth it, cursing his grandfather, and he wondered if they regretted it. 

He didn’t linger. He pushed further and further south, days bleeding together with the distance that he put between himself and his home. The Rot lessened, patches of decay here and there, but it never disappeared outright. 

Eventually, he reached the Steppe, rolling grasslands against a mountainous backdrop. 

The Rot was here too, stretching into land that had nothing to do with a vengeful crown and a sorcerer who decided to fight back. For the first time in his life, Yuri was angry at his grandfather, and he pitied Victor. 

He had known that the prince had tried to stop it. Victor was also obstinate though, and he already ruffled enough feathers among his court by not marrying or siring an heir. Even with the chance, he wouldn’t have asked Yuri for help. 

Yuri sighed, a long breath that ended in a snort. 

He would keep going, he decided. He would go further and further until The Rot was no more. It wasn’t his problem. 

Yuri was free. 

#

And then he came across a fetid bear and the dumbest nomad alive. 

Yuri watched from afar, lazing about atop a stone outcropping as the man tried to reach for another arrow. There wasn’t one, his hand grasping around air. The man cursed before resigning himself to the end of his life. 

Really, who hunted this far out with no help? Yuri couldn’t smell another human for miles, so the nomad’s home wasn’t near. He was alone. The bear ambled closer and Yuri sighed, raising up on tired and weary legs. 

He was hungry anyway. 

The bear was easy prey for a beast like himself, and The Rot only eased it further. Yuri tackled the bear down, claws dipping into his warm body as they raked across it. It’s throat tore easily underneath his mouth. It tasted sick, just slightly foul, but Yuri wouldn’t waste meat.

The bear wasn’t rotted enough to do him any harm, so he ate, tearing at muscle and sinew. Allowing for the nomad to run away and save his sorry hide. 

But the nomad didn’t. Instead, he sat and waited. Watched. 

When Yuri was done, he sat on his haunches and went about cleaning his paws. He didn’t like the way that blood crusted his fur, so the sooner the better. The nomad finally moved, slinging his bow across his wide shoulders. 

Yuri finally looked at him. He was impressive, despite being short, his body broad with well honed muscles. He wore leathers and an embroidered tunic, typical of the clans in these parts. His hair was long on top and tied back with a simple cord, the sides of his head closely shaved. Well cut jawline and a slightly crooked nose, like it hadn’t healed properly after being broken. 

Not unappealing. Handsome even. 

The nomad turned to leave, but then paused and shot a wary glance to the bear. Yuri followed his gaze. Surely the man wasn’t that stupid, to think that the bear was worth taking with him. Yuri could stomach the fetid meat, but only barely. It wasn’t worth the risk. 

The nomad raised his hands, before stepping closer to the bear, and Gods above, Yuri would have to resort to scaring him off. But he didn’t. Not immediately. He only watched. 

The nomad then pressed a hand into the pouch at his side and said something. The dialect wasn’t the high class Russian that he’d been taught, but it was similar enough that Yuri understood. A prayer.

Yuri leaned forward in interest, curious as to what the man would do. 

He threw the handful of ashes over the bear and thanked it for doing it’s job. Yuri knew that the tribes of the Steppe were a superstitious lot, but the action made him think of something else. A dark and pitiful night long ago, where Yuuri dug a grave for a woman that he didn’t even know, all so she could be laid to peace respectfully. 

Suddenly, the nomad was far more interesting than before, if still the dumbest man he’d ever met. 

Yuri followed him and the man let him, only noting that he was an odd thing. The nomad didn’t question him, he only accepted the fact that Yuri was quite the unusual tiger. Perhaps he was just as interested in learning about him in return. 

So Yuri gave him the honor of his company. 

As time wore on, he learned that the nomad wasn’t dumb at all. His name was Otabek and he was kind, patient and intelligent. He didn’t treat Yuri as something to fear, he treated him like a friend. Like a companion. 

As an equal. 

“Yuri?” Otabek asked, and Yuri was pulled from his thoughts. He’d done a lot of thinking, as of late. Otabek’s hand was already in his scruff, an automatic and practiced motion, as his honey brown eyes regarded him fondly. “We’ll have to go a little bit further today.”

Yuri didn’t know what he hated more-- the slow heat that built in his heart, or the ache that killed it when he remembered that he would forever be a tiger. 

Still, Yuri purred under the touch, tail swishing behind him, before he followed Otabek into the snow. 

[sarcastic-sunshines]

ABIONA AU - Before Abiona Interlude Part 5: Alixzilla

Pairing: T’ Challa x Black!Reader

Warning(s): None

Word Count:  3764

Link to ABIONA by @writingmarvellousimagines

Link to Face claims (2)

Part: (1) (2) (3) (I1) (I2) (4) (I3) (I4) (5) (6)

Alixzilla

At 8 months pregnant, Alix was almost done and was finally getting closer to meeting her baby. She began to see the finish line to this gestation period. A little piece of her was going to miss knowing that her baby was safely nestled within her, but a larger part was ready to give this baby it’s eviction notice to get out. Alix’s attitude presently resembled an angry and inconsiderate landlord.  Unfortunately, T’Challa was forced to face the brunt of Alix’s ever changing mood swings and demands. It was beginning to feel like a lot for the young King who had made it his mission to keep his promise of being there during these trying times for Alix. It began with the bed.

As quickly as Alix had allowed T’Challa into her bed, she had kicked him out again. Her body had begun to heat up at an exponential rate added to the struggle of finding a suitable position to sleep in.  On a particular night, Alix had been stirring in and out of sleep for most of the night. She turned to look at the illuminated clock that showed 3AM.  She turned to look at T’Challa who was happily sleeping and though she knew he hated it she furiously tapped him awake.

 “T’Challa.” The king groaned and turned to face away from his lover.

 “Alix, please, no food tonight. Tell baby to wait until morning.” Alix rolled her eyes before tapping him again.

“No, T’Challa, this isn’t about food, I need you to go and sleep in the guest room.” The drowsy King sobered up and turned to face Alix with confusion and a little hurt in his face. He began to ask Bast how in the middle of the night their nightly routine had gone sour. He had taken every kick and every blanket hogging with little to no complaints. What else did this woman want?

“Oh my Bast! Alix,why?”

“Because you keep trying to cuddle and I am so hot. This baby has also decided to steal my ability to regulate my own body temperature. My back hurts and I can’t get comfortable. I need to sprawl out and I can’t do that with you here,” she finished as T’challa turned on his back to look up to Bast for patience and guidance. “I promise it has nothing to do with you or us. It is more of a comfort issue.” She waited 5 seconds to see if he would move. “T’Challa, go! Please!” He quickly got up grabbing his shirt and heading for the door. 

“Okay! I am going Alix. See you in the morning.” 

Though Alix returned to T’Challa  an hour later with an inconsolable craving for onion rings and crême brûlée. Which meant he had two stops at opposite ends of the city.  He just kept repeating his new mantra. 

‘It is for her AND the baby. Just one more month. 

It is for her AND the baby. Just one more month.’ 

He could get through this final month. And he couldn’t be annoyed with her for long. Even as the bother she was being, he still thought she was the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes on. A few cravings and a cold bed would not move him. However, Alix’s behaviour did not stop there. 

After T’Challa and Jules had spent a whole day painting the nursery a violet colour that Alix had picked months ago, she changed her mind and decided she would prefer a more lilac purple and it had to be changed. She couldn’t stand to look at the violet for a second longer. Still, T’Challa did not complain, especially since Jules was doing enough complaining for the both of them.

“Sis, that isn’t even fair and you know it! T and I have been painting for the whole day. You didn’t even bring us a cup of water for our hard work. You didn’t even paint a thing!” Alix simply rolled her eyes and left the two to get ready to go back to the hardware store.

“Jules, she is pregnant. The paint fumes aren’t good for the baby.”

“That doesn’t explain her attitude though.” T’Challa closed his eyes, feeling the lack of sleep starting to wear on him. He simply grabbed the sample of the colour Alix had chosen and patted Jules’ shoulder in comfort as they headed to the door. 

“Don’t worry, Jules, I will make sure to buy you whatever type of water you would like. Let’s go. Tomorrow will also be a long day”.

Jules was right. Thank yous were becoming less common from Alix. She barely tolerated T’Challa touching her for too long, that included talking to the baby. Her complaints of heat kept him at arms length. It also kept the apartment cold despite it being January. But all of it kept Alix calm so T’Challa shivered quietly as he and Jules built the furniture for the nursery. 

“ T, it’s cold outside, why is the heat not on ?”

“Because your sister says she is overheating so the house has to be cool so her and the baby aren’t too hot.” Jules scoffed.

“I know you don’t really believe that ‘baby’ line. T, you need to get your woman, Alix is actually starting to get on my nerves. We repainted this room and she still didn’t even say thank you. She ordered all this furniture that had to have the instructions only in Swedish which is the only language neither of you know and has us building it in sub zero conditions.” T’Challa laughed at Jules’s dramatics, though, he sensed the truth in his words. He paused from his furniture building to sit.

“I know she has become more...demanding and it is harder on us. If any body knows, it is me. But we must remember, she is in a very vulnerable point in her pregnancy and so we must be kind to her and practise more patience. And I do understand Swedish, however I struggle to read it.” Jules stared at T’Challa, unmoved by his speech.

“She isn’t here, T’Challa, you don’t have to make up all those things you normally do to have her swooning. You aren’t even allowed in the same bed as her. Again. Aren’t you tired? Besides, I’m not the one who knocked her up. I’m just here because if she tells Maman I didn’t come I will be in bigger trouble. You, on the other hand, are the poor sucker who refused to focus on the project and left Uganda only to discover he gained a baby mama instead. “ T’Challa frowned

“Thank you, Jules, for the breakdown of my recent adventures. It was not as depressing as you made it to sound.”

“I don’t know, man, you handled this transition way too smoothly. How do I know you don’t do this every time you leave Wakanda? How many baby mama’s do you actually have? Don’t worry I won’t tell Alix.” T’Challa looked at Jules with annoyance and disbelief.

“Let us begin by clarifying that I would not trust you to clip my large toe. Secondly, Alixandre is the only woman in this world who I have a child with and plan to have children with.”

“That we know of.” T’Challa groaned.

“No, she is the only one. End of discussion!” Jules frowned at T’Challa’s seriousness.

“Well, that might be true, but what I know there is no way the crowned Prince of Wakanda did not use his travels as a way to sow his royal oats.” T’Challa smiled slyly.

“I do not think your sister would appreciate us having this discussion. Plus, I only have eyes for her now.” Jules shook his head.

“T’Challa, isn’t Alix taking another nap? It’s okay bro, we can speak freely.” T’Challa rolled his eyes before looking at the door, knowing Alix would not be coming in anytime soon. So he allowed himself to indulge in Jules’ curiosity.

“Alright, Julianus, what would you like to know?”

“Yes! What city has given you the wildest night?”

“Rio de Janeiro. I was 22 and was supposed to be helping my father prep for a meeting with the Brazilian President. I had one free day before we were supposed to go back to Wakanda. The things I saw and did cannot be shared but only experienced.” T’Challa shared a meaningful look with Jules.

“Alright, Rio added to the travel list. Which country has the most beautiful women?” 

“Call me biased but Wakanda. The beauty at home is in a lane of its own.”

“Really?! So why are you here instead of indulging?” Both men jumped at the sound of Alix’s voice.

“Entle I see you are up. How was your rest,” T’Challa asked nervously unaware of how much of the conversation she had heard.

“No, don’t bother asking me anything. Please, go back to your conversation about, how did he put it? Sowing your royal oats.” T’Challa sighed after realizing how much she had heard. 

“Alix, chill, we were just taking a break. We have been working all day and you haven’t even offered us a single drink for our hard work. This baby better hurry up and come.”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t talking so much, you would be done and you can use your two legs to go to the kitchen and get yourself a drink. I am heavily pregnant, Jules, I cannot be catering to you.” Jules rolled his eyes.

“Then, why are you in here bothering our bonding time,” Jules retorted .

“Because, T’Challa, my feet hurt.Can you please give them a massage before you and Jules go back to ‘bonding’?” 

“Of course, entle I will be right there.” Alix waddled away content to see two important men in her life getting along, despite the topic of their conversation. T’Challa put down his tools to tend to Alix’s aching feet. Jules began to mockingly sing the chorus of Usher’s ‘Caught Up’. T’Challa turned back to glare at Jules. Before he could rebuttal, Alix screamed his name. T’Challa turned to leave the newly painted room to join Alix on the couch as Jules barked with laughter.

After an  intense day, T’Challa was happy to be able to finally go to bed. This night he was actually dreaming of himself and what he could only assume to be his baby in Wakanda, looking over the grassy horizon with the Golden City in the background, only for a strong wind that sounded like Alix calling his name to disturb the time with his child.

T’Challa opened his eyes to find Alix standing over him shaking his shoulder furiously. He turned to look at the clock and was upset to see it read 3:30AM. He turned back to look at Alix who looked more upset than he who was woken up.

“I have been shaking you for about five minutes.” T’Challa rubbed his eyes

“Well, you should have stopped after the first minute. I was dreaming, you know?”

“About what? One of the Brazilian beauties you were reminiscing about with Jules.” 

T’Challa stretched. “Alix, you know we were just talking and that is the past. I truly only have eyes for you.” Alix ignored his comment completely.

“Anyways, I am really craving McDonald’s fries and a milkshake.”

“And what is the baby craving?” Alix squinted at him.

“Who knew your comedic streak started so early in the morning.”

“It wouldn’t if you let me sleep,” he ended before leaving her to go to the McDonald’s.

T’Challa came back to the apartment to find Alix sitting on the couch, enjoying an ice cream cone.

“You took some time. I was getting worried”

“Apparently, you are not the only one in the area with cravings. Here you go,” T’Challa said placing the bag and drink on the table in front of her as he took off his jacket. Alix made no move towards the bag. He stared at her curiously.

“What is it?”

“I don’t really want it anymore,” she said casually.

“Alix, I know you are kidding right,” T’Challa said growing frustrated.

“I am serious. I had a craving and now it is gone. Between you struggling to wake up and you taking forever at the McDonald’s, it make sense. The ice cream filled the void.”

“So you are trying to say that it is my fault?” T’Challa tried to calm down, but he was sure this was the final straw. “Alix, you have been nothing but a brat! Normally, I don’t mind appeasing you but you have gone too far! You kicked me out of the bed. I said nothing. You had Jules and I repaint the whole room without even a thank you or any form of appreciation, yet I still defended your actions and said nothing. You have been rude to me and won’t let me touch you. I barely get to talk to my child anymore! I still said nothing at all because I want you to be comfortable.  I want you to know how much I appreciate you and your sacrifice to bring this child into the world, but you have woken me up almost every night for two weeks for crazy cravings that I am not even sure are because of the baby anymore. Not only did you do it today, you, again, did not say thank you and won’t eat what you had to wake me up for. You know I hate being woken up and I have allowed you to do it. You are taking advantage of my kindness and it is not fair anymore!” With that he stormed off slamming the door behind him.

Alix jumped at the sound of the door. She really did think that T’Challa was overreacting but knew he would be fine by morning. 

Morning came, and T’Challa did not come out of his study. Or if he did come out it was when Alix was in her room. She was beginning to get worried. She waddled to the study and knocked. When she got no answer, she let herself in.

“T’Challa, I wasn’t sure if you were alive. I haven’t seen you all day.” 

He dryly replied looking directly at the holograms he had projecting from his kimoyo beads.  “I have been busy with work.”

Alix stood at the door awkwardly. Normally, he would have invited her into his lap to kiss her and the baby.

“Oh okay. Did you end up having a good night's sleep?” T’Challa scoffed still avoiding Alix’s eyes.

“I got as much sleep as I was allowed to with an early wake up call”.

Alix continued to stand not sure how to move the conversation. T’Challa finally turned to face Alix.

“Is there something you need from me?” Alix was shocked with how cold he was being with her.

“Um, no. I was just wondering how you were, babe. Do you want to maybe watch some tv? There is a Real Housewives of Orange County marathon today.” He turned back to his work.

“No, thank you. I have a lot of work to complete. I would rather be left alone, please.” Alix accepted defeat and closed the door. She went to the nursery and continued to put away things for the baby when she heard Jules enter the apartment and go to the refrigerator. She went to the kitchen to meet him drinking the milkshake and eating the fries she sent T’Challa to get last night. 

“What’s up? Where’s T?”

“He is in his study. Those were mine by the way.”

“Why do you care? It wasn’t like you were going to eat it.” Alix looked at Jules sure he knew something that she didn’t. “Oh yeah, I know about last night. T’Challa basically word vomited the whole story this morning when he called me. I told you that being the Wicked Witch of the West was not going to get you far. Now, you pushed the most patient man to the wall. Just sad. I am disappointed in your actions, Alixandre.” Alix rolled her eyes though she knew that Jules was right.

“I get it, I have been a bit of diva.”

Jules held his ear. “I am sorry? Did you say a bit? I think you meant a large one. I bet you didn’t even apologize in true Alix fashion,”he said as he took a sip of the milkshake. 

“Jules, what are you doing here anyway?” 

“Well, if you must know, your man decided you were cramping his style and he needed a break from you and your pregnancy hormones. So he got some last minute tickets the PSG vs Juventus match and invited David and yours truly.” Just as he finished explaining, T’Challa entered the kitchen.

“Hey T, you ready?”

“Yes, just let me grab my jacket.” Alix watched as they got ready to leave without her. T’Challa hated going anywhere. She had literally driven him from his comfort spot. 

“Babe, you didn’t tell me you were going anywhere... I thought you said you had a lot of work to do?”

“It must have slipped my mind,” he said while sending a message to David.

“When will you be back? Do you want dinner or-”

“I am probably going to eat out. Do not wait for me. I will see you later,” he said, kissing her cheek before leaving the apartment. Jules left after shaking his head at his sister and throwing up a peace sign leaving her standing the kitchen by herself.

Alix allowed the rest of the day to pass feeling bored and missing T’Challa. Even her dinnertime seem bland without him. He only came after 11PM when she was in her bed. He briefly opened the door to check if she was sleeping but left right after. 

Alix turned to look at the clock which let her know it was 4:15AM. She herself was getting tired of these cravings, but she knew there was no way her child would let her sleep without eating so she got up and decided it was time to make pancakes. She tried to be quiet, to not wake T’Challa, but the pots had plans of their own. 

T’Challa heard the banging of pots and the opening of the fridge. He stayed in bed,  still hoping it would end, but it continued. He sighed and got up and walked to the edge of the kitchen and watched Alix try to move quickly around the kitchen. He smiled to himself totally enamoured with how beautiful she was even in her pyjamas and bonnet. She reached for a mixing bowl a few inches above her, he came up behind her. He put his hand around her waist and grabbed the bowl for her. Alix leaned into T’Challa’s shirtless stomach as he passed her the bowl without saying anything. She always felt at home engulfed by his warmth. She turned to smile at him. T’Challa returned the gesture with a kiss to her cheek and her shoulder. Slowly, they began to mix the ingredients in a comfortable silence. T’Challa turned on the stove as Alix passed him the mixed batter.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Alix went to sit on the bar stool.

“Because you seemed annoyed with me the whole day and so I didn’t want to annoy you further with another wake up. They have been a bit outrageous, haven’t they? I am sorry about that. I have definitely been taking advantage of your kindness. Jules was right. I have definitely been a bit of a diva.”

“I am sorry? Did you say a bit,” he said mockingly with a smile.

“Well guess who isn’t allowed to hang around Jules anymore.” T’Challa flipped the pancake before coming over to Alix and kissed her hand.

“I am kidding, but you were definitely more than a bit of a diva.”

“And I said I was sorry, didn’t I,” she said snatching her hand back.

“Yes, you did. I know it is hard for you to apologize so I forgive you,” T’Challa said before turning back to the pancakes. They returned to a comfortable silence with Alix eventually getting up from her spot to wrap her hands around T’Challa’s middle as best as her bump would allow her to. T’Challa put his hands over hers, happy for the intimacy. 

Alix grabbed the syrup from the fridge with some strawberries. T’Challa moved their plates to the couch. They ate in silence, feeding each other despite eating the exact same thing. Alix finally broke the silence. 

“What was your dream about?”

“What dream? The one from last night?” Alix nodded before taking another bite.

“Well, I was in Wakanda-“

“With all the beauties that are in a lane of their own?” Alix giggled as T’Challa groaned.

“Do you want to hear about it or not?” She silenced her giggles so he could continue. 

“As I was saying. I was in Wakanda and I was holding a baby. We were looking at the Wakandan horizon. Alix, it was so beautiful. I cannot wait to show it to you one day. We were just enjoying each others company.” Alix smiled at T’Challa as he remembered his dream. “Anyways, the baby was a little girl. She looked just like you ,entle.” 

“So are you telling me the baby is going to be a girl?”

“Maybe so. It doesn’t matter, either way, I will love them” He put his plate down and lifted Alix’s shirt and began to kiss her bump. Alix began to giggle.

“I want them to have your calm personality and your kindness.” 

“I am shocked you do not want a stubborn baby,” he said as he held her bump while she caressed his hair

“Ha ha. Very funny. No, I want them to be patient and caring like their Baba.”

“I want them to be as independent and confident as their Mama.” He leaned up to kiss her.       “T’Challa, I probably should have said this a while ago, but I am so glad you are doing this with me. I wouldn’t imagine doing any of this with anyone else. I know you feel the same but you deserved to know as well.” 

T’Challa’s heart had past its capacity of love, yet Alix continue to increase its limits. As he led her back to bed to sleep through what was left of the night, he thanked Bast for his patience. It allowed for him to experience this phenomenal woman, who continued to steal his heart no matter the circumstances. 

________________________________________________________________

Taglist:

@oceanscorazon @writingmarvellousimagines @chaneajoyyy @teechallas-blog @ashanti-notthesinger @wakanda-inspired @90sinspiredgirl @lovely-geek @fonville-designs @chefjessypooh @imagine-mbaku @dopegalkk

[abeautifulblog]

The third wheel

Postgame analysis of the dinner-at-Robert's interlude, from the new content in the dadrector's cut. Spoilers, obvs.

…But for those of you who clicked on this not caring about spoilers, the context:

The interlude kicks off with Craig messaging you all “BRO, BRO, ROBERT INVITED ME OVER TO DINNER AT HIS HOUSE, PLEASE THIRD-WHEEL ME HERE BRO.” And you're like, sure, I love dinner. The two of you go to Robert's, where he is clearly not pleased to find that you invited yourself along too, but he lets you in anyway. The food is good (Robert can cook: confirmed!), he trolls the two of you a few times (or does he? The bit about Spain sounded like it might have actually been genuine, and if so, this just in: Robert has Spanish ancestry!), and at the end of the evening he admits that “I'm.... making an effort to be more sociable.” (Looking slightly pained as he does so.) He concludes by pointedly saying that CRAIG is welcome back anytime.

It's one of the best scenes in the new content—it and the poker night are my top two favs—with the snappy, laugh-out-loud excellent writing that made me fall in love with Dream Daddy all over again.

So I apologize, because I am about to be a real fucking downer about it.

*

The other night I watched it again, together with a couple of ride-or-die Craig fans (my housemate/beta and Sam of craig-fic fame), and afterward we had some interesting thoughts and observations kicking around.

First off we were debating: was Robert trying to make a play for Craig? I mean—that's what it looks like. We know Robert's hookup habits, and we know that Craig's the hottest piece of ass in Maple Bay; it's kind of the obvious conclusion.

Craig doesn't know how to interpret the invitation—and his jokes are about whether he's going get ax-murdered, but the subtext is clearly about whether he's going to be fending off romantic interest. That said, Craig is a fucking pro at dodging unwanted come-ons, and nothing kills the mood and says “not a date” like bringing your very uncool bestest bro along for the free food.

Robert himself is hard to read in this (...sort of? As I've pointed out through Gene, it's never hard to tell what he's feeling, even if the why is a mystery), but he's clearly put a lot of effort into preparing for the evening. The food is fancy enough that it could easily be romantic-dinner fare (complete with ~fancy~ dessert), and even though he doesn't make a big deal about it, Robert is obviously not happy when he finds out it's going to be the three of you, instead of the two of them.

...But if you believe him (and ultimately the consensus was that we did), if you believe that this wasn't a seduction, that he was genuinely attempting to put himself out there and make friends, then the whole thing becomes really heart-breaking.

So—Robert knows that he needs to pull himself together, stop wallowing, start living again. I've said all along that one of his most redeeming features as a character is that he is still trying, even when it would be so easy for him just to give it up as a lost cause. He is trying to do better, to be happier, to put himself out there and make connections with people. (Hell, it would explain why he keeps going to poker nights, even though they're held at Joseph's house, and he canonically doesn't give a fuck about the game itself.)

So when he decides (or Mary bullies him into agreeing) that he needs to get to know the people on the block better, to actually make friends with them instead of just lurking on the fringes, it makes sense that the guy he picks for his first attempt is Craig. Not because Craig's hot (and don't get me wrong—if Craig had announced that he was dtf, Robert would have rolled with it), but because Craig is the world's most perfect cinnamon roll, the sweetest and most laid-back guy you'll ever meet, without a judgmental bone in his perfect body.

(I'm convinced that Craig believes the best of everyone. That even when faced with obvious human disasters, his feeling is a sympathetic They're doing the best they can, without a hint of censure.)

Craig's chill and low-key—he's not gonna make Robert jump through intellectual hoops, or one-up him on everything, or exacerbate what already has the potential to be a very awkward evening with his own social anxieties, etc. If there's anyone on this block you can get along with, it's Craig-fucking-Cahn, goddamn it Robert, you can do this.

So Robert invites him to dinner, hoping that maybe he can to get to know Craig better in a one-on-one setting; maybe he can let his guard down a bit, open up a bit, because if there's anyone you're safe with, it's Craig. Maybe he can finally let someone here start to get to know the real Robert—

And then Craig rolls up with a near-stranger in tow. With his best friend in tow. And suddenly Robert is the third wheel at the dinner he's hosting.

(When my friend Sam was coming into town this weekend, he was trolling me, saying that he was going to bring along the dude he'd be hooking up with here, and I was like, “If you come all the way to Sacramento to see me and then expect me to share your attention with some twink, I will cut a bitch, a bitch named you.”

Because I know myself—I know that I am not good at hanging out with my friends with their friends. Conversation gets exponentially more asinine the more people are involved in it, and I know I'm not good at inserting myself into other people's friend-dynamic. Hell, even when it's two people I know and like, I'd still much rather hang out with them individually. But me+friend+stranger? Excruciating. It makes me uncomfortable, and in short order it makes me very, very resentful.

Thing is, though—I'm better at enforcing my boundaries than Robert is.)

Robert knows from the moment he lets you in the door that the evening is over. The next few hours are going to be an ordeal in his least-favorite kind of socializing, with no chance at the meaningful connection he’d been hoping for.

You, the dadsona, are not the one Robert wanted for his carefully-vetted, baby-steps first foray back into making friends. He doesn't know you, doesn't trust you, and moreover: your presence there hijacks all of Craig's attention. You and Craig spend the evening doing your bro thing, whispering to each other behind Robert's back, passing your private jokes back and forth, and the whole thing winds up being just as empty and superficial for Robert as every other social affair he’s attended in that neighborhood. He performs weird-inscrutable Robert, like he always does; you eat his food and then you go home. The end.

I wonder if he even made another attempt after that.

*

(Although—in fairness—what Craig does to Robert with you is literally what Robert does to you with Mary, so. Karma maybe. It's an interesting bit of symmetry, and I honestly can’t guess at whether it was intentional or not.)

*

And as much as I love filling in the gaps and the Robert-headspace in these scenes with my own Gene/Robert interpretation, it doesn't work for this one, not as it's written. The dadsona in this is not Gene. He has no affinity for Robert, and Robert is zero percent pining for him; Robert's attitude is not “I'm struggling with Feelings,” more like, you're a stranger, I didn't invite you, I don't want you here.

(Now, a story in which Craig rolled up to dinner with Robert's crush in tow—cue the panic!—could be fun, but it would be a very different evening.)

[affectionforbangtan]

[TIME] j-hope of K-Pop Sensation BTS Has His Own Story to Tell on New Solo Mixtape

Allow j-hope to introduce himself — and to welcome us to Hope World, the K-pop superstar’s debut solo mixtape. J-hope, 24, born Jung Ho-seok, is one of seven members of BTS, one of the most popular boy bands in the world. But the release of his independent project doesn’t spell any kind of end of the BTS reign. In fact, he is the third member of the group to put out an individual mixtape, giving their army of global fans a taste of his own artistic vision — without fracturing the boy band unity.

“The team always comes first, so I focused on our projects as BTS and tried to make time in the hotel room, on the airplane, and whenever I could find a few minutes,” he says of the two-year-long process of developing Hope World, which he considers “my calling card to the world.”

Best known in BTS for his rapping and his background as a former competitive street dancer, the young star was discovered by BigHit Entertainment’s founder and CEO Bang Si-hyuk thanks to his sharp moves. On Hope World, he gets to flex his own voice, crafting a set of songs that fans of rap and pop can enjoy even if they don’t speak a word of Korean. The mixtape opens with an adventure inspired by Jules-Verne, then delves into his personal reflections on fame and success, anthems for positivity and party tracks, all layered over a mix of instantly catchy trap, dance and tropical beats. Here, j-hope shares exclusively with TIME the stories behind this collection of solo tracks, whose messages — despite the language difference — certainly don’t get lost in translation.

TIME: Why did you want to release a mixtape? What sets this apart from BTS music?

j-hope: My fantasy had always been making a music video and performing with music that I had created. I also wanted to put my own story to music and share it with the world. [BTS members] RM and SUGA releasing their own mixtapes was the motivation for my own project. I have been and continue to be deeply influenced by them, from the day we began to where we are today, and I always thought it was awesome that they were telling their own personal stories and making music in their own styles. I started dancing first, but felt I could also tell my story through my music.

There are elements of trap, EDM, Caribbean beats and futuristic funk-soul mixed together across the mixtape. But most of all, you’re clearly leaning in to all forms of rap. What artists and sounds inspired you most?

I actually don’t preoccupy myself with “I’m going to do this kind of rap in this kind of genre” kind of thinking when I work. I went with and got my beats from what appealed to me, what drew me in and what felt good. The way I work is very on-the-spot flow, and I write the rap and the music as I feel them coming. I drew inspiration for this mixtape from artists like KYLE and Aminé. I also have to mention the heavy influence of Joey Bada$$. These are all artists I highly respect, and I’d love to do projects with them in the future.

The first song, “Hope World,” opens up with a water splash sound, and the lyrics mention being under the sea. What’s the journey you’re taking?

I remember being captivated by Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea when I read it as a kid. I think I took myself back to that place for new inspiration and brought back a part of it as the motive to start writing Hope World. It’s an introduction to people who are brand new to [me] with me as Captain Nemo showing you around just as the submarine in the book cruised around the world’s oceans. I know this might sound really corny, but I invite you to pretend to be Professor Aronnax as you listen to this song and take a journey through my world [laughs].

What does it mean to be a “Piece of Peace,” which is the title of one of the songs?

I thought it would be hugely meaningful for me if I can become, like my namesake, hope for someone in the world — not even some grandiose peace but just a small shard of it. I first started out by thinking, “It’d be fantastic to become a part of someone’s personal peace through my music,” and while working on the beats thought about the kind of message I can send out to my own generation living with their worries and burdens. I wanted to talk about peace even though I knew that it was a weighty topic, and I tagged on “pt. 1” to the title because I want to keep talking about it.

The voices of the other BTS members appear on “Airplane.” Did they contribute in other ways?

It was so special. I felt that group vocals for “Airplane” coming from all the BTS members who’ve been together through this journey would create an even more heartfelt song. I first asked our member and my friend RM to do the hook for the song. He agreed and worked really hard to make the recording, but we kept talking and came to the agreement that building the hook with just my voice and ending the song on it would create a deeper emotional impact. I could see it too, so unfortunately our leader’s voice had to stay behind in the editing room. I want to take this chance to thank once again [RM] and all the members. I have the gang vocals and RM’s rap on my phone, and I can’t wait for a chance to put it up on social media and share it with everyone!

Also on “Airplane,” near the end you brush off the haters: “Don’t give a damn, I’m just happy / I made it.” Do you feel that you’ve “made” it as an artist now?

I think “making it,” as you say, means different things to different people. I was sitting in an airplane when I was writing these verses, a first-class seat no less, and it dawned on me that I was in the airplane, in the seat and living the glorious life I’d only dreamed about when I was young, and had somehow gotten used to now. But then and now, I’m still the same person, the same j-hope. My thoughts on life haven’t changed very much. But my world has gone through incredible changes. I think it was that experience of being with my fans around the world and stepping back on Korean soil that it hit me, “Man, I think I’ve made it…” For me, the joy that I have right now and the amazing love I’m getting is how I define my success.

“Base Line” is an intense rap track that sees you flexing over record-scratch sounds. What does this song mean to you? What is your “base line”?

To be honest, I didn’t expect a lot from this track. I was thinking in terms of an interlude between songs, and I think I was as relaxed as I could be writing this song, but then I heard the mix master track and it floored me. It might not be all that to anyone else [laughs]. I just wanted to give a story about how I started, the “baseline” of my life. People don’t really know how I got into music. These days, the baseline that’s behind my life is my deep gratitude for my life and my work. You can see that too in the lyrics. Everything I am comes from this deep gratitude I have.

“Daydream” seems like a particularly personal song — but it’s also a fun beat to dance along with. What story does it tell?

People know me, and I know I’m a person in the public’s eye. I wanted to show that behind this public figure is an ordinary guy named Jung Ho-seok. I wanted to use this as an outlet to talk about the desires and wishes that every person in the world has but that I have to hold down and cover up because of having chosen this line of work. Daydreaming is, of course, dreaming while wide awake about things generally outside our reach. But even if these dreams might never become reality, lining these dreams up in my head still gave me comfort. I thought expressing this topic in the wrong way might make it way too heavy, so I wanted to put it to something bouncy and fun.

You’re now the third BTS member to put out a mixtape after RM and SUGA. Who’s going to be next?

First, it’s such an honor to have the opportunity to make this mixtape. All of our members are interested in creative work and have the deepest passion for music, so I wouldn’t be surprised if we see a mixtape from anyone. Right now, we’re all focused on the new BTS album. We’re always working on and creating new things, and I hope you can continue to show us your love and stay with us in our exciting journey.

cr. RAISA BRUNER | TIME

[tsfennec]

Consequences in fiction

Lately, I’ve been thinking about consequences in fiction. And some things have been bugging me.

Now, this is not going to be a rant about the level of realism needed in fiction writing (i.e. ”This thing... does not work like that. Please do your research.”). People have all kinds of different tastes and tolerance levels for the kinds of realism they want in different types of fiction - and IMO that’s totally legitimate. This is really about choosing your level of realism and sticking with it so that the story - and the choices that the characters make - has an internal consistency. 

I have friends who are ALL ABOUT realistic consequences in fiction. They crave those stories where the heroes make bad choices, do the wrong thing (maybe for the right reasons, maybe not), and it comes back to bite them big time. Messy, complicated situations play out in a messy, complicated way. They want all of the fallout of that dealt with seriously, not glossed over or easily resolved. There are certainly books and shows like that, where you know that even if the characters seem to have come out with a win, anything shady they did (or any relationships they compromised) is going to be hanging over them from now on and will almost certainly have major effects at some point. The characters make their decisions knowing this. Some of them might be more willing to take risks than others, but they go in knowing that if they do this, it’s going to change their lives in some way. The tone is fairly close to the real world in that sense. 

I also have friends who really... don’t care that much? To be more accurate, they tend to prefer lighthearted takes on fictional worlds generally. (Or, if not actually lighthearted in tone, more glossed over for the Cool Factor.) They enjoy reading or watching something where you know the hero’s going to come out on top, everything’s going to be worked out in the end. There’s kind of a wink-wink, nudge-nudge understanding between the writer and the audience that either the characters are Just That Brilliant or there are technicalities that’ll let them off or that’s just the kind of world this is, but even if they break the law in the course of their adventure, everything’s going to be smoothed over in the end. If there’s vigilante justice going on, they might beat up the villains, but no one who’s not supposed to is going to wind up with permanent or life-threatening injuries. If the hero kills someone in the Name Of Right, it’s going to be determined justified and that’s that. That crazy breaking-and-entering caper is definitely not going to result in any evidence that could possibly be traced back to our Robin-Hood-style protagonists unless it’s just to keep the plot moving - and in that case, by the end, they’ll have worked it all out and everything’s fine. It’s not meant to be taken seriously, really, it’s all about what makes for a fun, cool story. 

Me? I'm somewhere in the middle. I can really enjoy both. Depends on the mood I’m in. I imagine there are plenty of people who feel the same. 

But what DOES drive me crazy - and is all too common in fiction - is the writers who can’t make up their minds. And that, that is what drives me crazy.

Very often, everything about a plot sets it up by telling you that this is going to be one of those “yeah, I know, but just ignore that, the good guys always find a way to win here” scenarios. Heroes are playing fast and loose with the rules, maybe killing people, maybe breaking laws, definitely crossing lines. But everything in the tone with which it’s treated tells you not to take this too seriously because it’s not that kind of story. 

BUT THEN. Down the road, here come the consequences. And you’re supposed to sympathize with the heroes, want them to get out of this. You’re supposed to hate the nasty, rule-bound type who’s trying to pin them down for what they’ve done. Thing is? They did do the wrong thing, big time. They shouldn’t get away with it. And all the things that this person is bringing up... are actually very legitimate points. 

Except. This isn’t the kind of story where the heroes are now going to go to jail. Or face serious disciplinary action that lasts more than an episode or two. Or be dismissed from their jobs and have to find a new line of work. Or have any kind of lasting crisis of conscience that transforms their lives. Or turn into an adrenaline-fueled risk-taker who really doesn’t care about right or wrong. That’d kind of ruin the whole point of the thing. Sooo... We’re going to get a vague, handwavy weaseling out instead. Maybe for some reason the authorities decide, “Okay, we’ll let you go this time.” Maybe miraculously attention is diverted and no one really uncovers any proof. Whatever. They’ll get away with it, and we’re supposed to be relieved. 

EXCEPT. All of this would be well and good enough, if this was the kind of story where the heroes do something wrong, play fast and loose, cross lines, and then suddenly have to come face to face with consequences and realize the actual seriousness of what they’re doing. But again, this isn’t that kind of a story. None of this is actually going to change the way the heroes approach things in any meaningful way. Their close escape isn’t going to inform their future actions. It’s not really a case of “wow, next time I need to not do the thing” or “ha, I’m basically invulnerable, I can get away with anything.” It’s just very selective amnesia. 

The next time there’s a similar scenario, more often than not, the writer is again coming to the audience, saying, “Hey, just go with me on this, this isn’t the kind of world with those kinds of consequences. We’re just playing this for humor, really. This is supposed to be a lighthearted interlude. The character’s just proving they’re Cool and Tough.” It’s played for laughs. And the characters are going to make their decisions accordingly. As if they haven’t just faced (sort of) consequences. As if this is the kind of world where nothing catches up to you and these choices don’t actually have to be weighed.  

And if you do this enough times, I’m not going along with it anymore. This time, I’m just annoyed by the dramatic flip-flop of tone. You “told” me that that particular incident was just a silly caper earlier, and now I’m supposed to believe that there are Real World Consequences... but then go back to believing that the next time a character crosses a line, I’m not supposed to take it seriously, I’m not supposed to be upset about the fact that they did something awful... until the next time the tone flips to Consequences Time? And the characters are supposed to go along too when it comes to this yo-yo of personal responsibility?

Look, I get that any fiction’s likely to have some degree of that. I get it. If I like the plot and characters, I’m really not likely to care about the necessary handwaving because if I’m enjoying it, I want to be on the writer’s side. I’m willing to go along for the ride. 

But if you keep having your characters make terrible choices but refuse to commit one way or the other to either a major character arc of change or an episodic world where nothing really carries over to the next week... Now I’m not agonizing with the characters over what choices they should make. I’m not worried over what’s going to happen or on the edge of my seat, wondering how they’re going to fix things this time. No. I know it’s not going to really go anywhere, that this criticism of the characters’ actions doesn’t really mean anything. And I’m just mad at the writer for refusing to commit to any set of actual rules for their world and the seriousness of characters’ actions - and therefore unintentionally making the characters look like absolute idiots. Or horrible people accumulating a trail of despicable actions that’s only addressed when it’s convenient for ~drama~ not when it’s actually relevant. And the characters I fell in love with deserve better than that.

(Note: While I had a lot of different TV shows and books in mind writing this, it’s not actually directed at one in particular. It’s something I’ve been aggravated by over and over in media.) 

[atemusluckygal-fanfiction]

Hi! I'm curious, how do you usually go about writting fanfics? Your stories are so great and their plots are eloquently told - how do you proceed when you decide to write something? How many drafts do you usually have? And holy molly, how do you manage to have such an rich vocabulary? I could definitely use some tips for my own writting.

Hi anon!

Thanks so much for the compliment! I’m really flattered that you’d ask me about the process. The key to writing good fiction, I think, is endeavoring to connect with your readers through something both relatable and meaningful. Most of the time the why is at least just as important than the how, if not more.

As far as the mechanics go, any ideas that cross your mind more than once has to go on the paper as soon as you can put it down. It doesn’t matter if all you’ve got is a total mess–99% of the time, it is a total mess. But it’s better than forgetting a potentially good story. (Side note: Most musicians remember song ideas by recording a memo with a guitar or piano as soon as they can, and most of the time it sounds like dog shit at first. But sometimes those little voice memos turn into the next Don’t Stop Believin’.)

I’ll give you an example, from my story from a while back “Dreams of Dancing: The Le Cygne Tour”. When the vague idea occurred to me (I was sitting in traffic), I came home and wrote this on a word doc:

Story idea:Tea auditions for a big important ballet thing dream jobtakes a big risk in audition and gets humiliatedYami comforts herTea is sad and discouraged while she waits for verdictShe wins auditionYami and Tea kiss

(lol how messy was that? it’s barely English)

I let that blob of text sit for a while, because not all ideas catch (I have around 18 “rejects” that will never see the light of day). If I read it again and it seems worth my time, I’ll start writing the main sections of the first draft (the major events, like the audition, judges’ comments, interaction with Yami afterwards, reading the verdict, the kiss, and the ending). I let that sit for a few days to a week, then fill it in a little at a time. By the way, when I say let it “sit”, I mean don’t look at it at all until you’re waited long enough. You’ll be able to see it with fresh eyes. In the final editing stage, I actually read my chapter to myself, out loud. If something doesn’t belong, or if it doesn’t flow like it should, you’d know as soon as the words tumble out of your mouth.

How many drafts do I usually have? It depends on the nature of the story. In a playful and not-too-serious piece like “In the Body of a Boy”, for the first two chapters there were no more than 3 drafts each–the third chapter was highly anticipated by the readers since it took so long, so that had more drafts so I could end it decently. The whole point was to poke fun at Atem’s character, not write the next Shakespearean melodrama.

In “Vices”, a much darker and more serious story with LOTS of exposition, each chapter (both parts and interludes) posted so far had somewhere between 6-8 drafts. I’m a bit of an obsessive editor, so it would’ve been more if I didn’t force myself to just post it and hope that, even if my execution is flawed, my message came through.

Something I’ve been doing lately is, after uploading the chapter on the Doc Manager on ff.net, I pull up the “preview” mode and read it top to bottom a few times. For some reason, seeing the piece on the interface exposes more things you’d want to change. Even a few minutes after publishing it, I’ll read it again from the public page, and go back and edit a few things here and there. (These are clearly pretty obsessive habits, which aren’t required to be a good writer. I’m just a slave to my own standard of excellence, and that’s not always a good thing.)

As far as vocabulary… well, I would hope I have at least a decent one, I’ve been writing for over 10 years! The first and most obvious advice I have to give for that is: read a lot. Read stuff that challenges you. If you come across a word you don’t know: stop, look it up, read the sentence again in context. If you do that, you’ll more likely remember the word and can use it for yourself later. I literally have the dictionary.com app on my phone so I can look up stuff wherever I go, instantly. Am I insane? Probably.

The point of sophisticated language isn’t to sound sophisticated, it’s more about finding words that capture what you’re trying to say in a more specific way. Like, for example, you could use a word like “extrapolate” instead of “plan ahead”, if in context, a character is meant to plan ahead using the knowledge they already have, and extending that pattern beyond the present time to predict a future outcome. Then again, broader terms like “plan ahead” might be better for dialogue than narration, if your character can’t be expected to use a word like “extrapolate” or even know what it means.

Just for fun, I’ll tell you what tabs I usually keep open and handy while writing:1) Merriam-Webster dictionary/thesaurus 2) Urban dictionary3) yu-jyo.net (for referencing canon material)4) tvtropes.org5) grammarist.com6) whatever thing I’m researching for the story7) Wikipedia8) ff.net: previous chapters of my story I’m adding to (if multiple chapters) for consistency

My last piece of advice: it all comes with practice! Lots and lots of it! If you read some of my very first stories (please don’t they’re terrible) and compare to my more current ones, you’ll see that it’s not an overnight thing, not even close. Like I said, over 10 years, and I still have a lot to improve on. Just keep reading, writing, learning, and you will see how much that helps you grow mechanically. Keep feeling, socializing, finding things in the world that inspire you, and you will see how much that helps you grow as an artist and human being.

Wow, that got so long! Sorry! I hope it still helps. Thanks for asking, and good luck on your ventures in your writing!

xo ALG

[itsmetalkingtoyou]

7 for 7

Moon U

ever since I heard the spoiler, I knew this song wouldn’t disappoint me. I’m not Korean, I don’t know Korean, so I won’t talk about the lyrics when I’m listening to the song. The melody gives me the feelings of somehow bittersweet and you know what, Moon U delivers the scene of a moontic night to me. I don’t know why but I can picture a night with bright moon when listening to it. Plus, the chorus is well-sung. It echoes in my head day after day. YoungJae fits the song so well. And Mark’s rap part, totally my liking

Remember You

The fact that Bambam writes this song still surprises me. I can’t imagine someone like him will write this genre. To tell the truth, this song impressed me the most when I heard the album spoiler. All the members’ voice is so smooth and pleasant to hear, esp Jaebum and YoungJae. You can feel their feelings, somewhat sad somewhat desperate. I have watched their recording in Got7ing and can see that every member has their part done with satisfaction from the making team and Bambam.

Teenager

Another song by Jaebum and again, I have no excuse for not giving it a loop every day from now. I think Jaebum describe it so well when talking about Teenager. I love the lyrics so much. ‘’I can do anything if you tell I’m a good boy” I love it, the feeling it gives off when Jinyoung sings that part. Also the first time I heard I felt it a bit weird about the interlude. But after give it some times, I totally fall for that haha another hook part is when Jinyoung and Youngjae sing “nae boom boom bwa bwa” to tell the truth, I want to stand up and dance with the song whenever I heard the intro. 

To me

Yugyeom’s song. When I saw the song written by Yugyeom and Effin I know it would be this kind of genre. Sexy with sometimes low sometimes fast melody. The chorus is catchy with some autotune parts from Yugyeom, I find them really hooked on my mind. I wish Mark would have more parts in other songs like this too. His rough and low voice sounds so sexy. Not to forget BamBam’s rap part at the end of the song, so chic bae. In short, this song is kind of typical of Yugyeom and Effin, I guess. 

You Are

The title for the first time written by our leader Jaebum and I think he’s done quite a job. I findn the part Jackson raps a little weird but overall the melody and the lyrics are good. The more you listen to the song, the more it grows on you, esp the chorus. I think I find more peace and hope when listen to it. “It’s a beautiful sky” Just the lyrics sends me goosebump already, not to mention the bright background music. I quite impressed by the cherography this time, that part when they lie down on each other’s lap.

Face

I don’t quite the intro but from that part when Jinyoung sings “Hey..” I fall head over heel for it. The aura Youngjae’s voice gives off so bright and smooth. Actually his voice has always been like that to me. I haven’t mun over the lyrics but maybe it doesn’t impress me like other songs’ by JJP. The chorus of this song is probably the best chorus of this album. And can we appreciate that brigde Yugyeom sing? too emotional to be left out right? Yugyeom is improving on his singing alot you can see. 

Firework 

tbh Jinyoung’s song in G7 album has never catched my ears the first time I listen to them. and the same goes to this song. I think it lacks something to make the song as energetic (bright? might me a better word) as the firework. But the lyrics Jinyoung writes are always my fav. Mark has so little lines in this song although he does the intro. But the part “Say hoo hooo hoo hooo” is quite the catchy. and I love the last part Jinyoung sings “ Cause you’re like the firework”

Overall

I love this album and totally satisfied with it. Every member takes part in composing it so it’s really meaningful to them. The music this time, as they have always stated, is different from their previous one, or maybe their images in fact. But I still find their characteristics in every song. The hectic G7, energetic boys are still right there, just reveal another side of them to us, fans.I do hope our boys will continue composing the songs they  like, not the public.. You know in Korean their songs are not quite publicfriendly :) but anyway I still enjoy their music. I’m just an 1-year ahgase, haven’t known them well but I love them enough to wish every rosy wish I could. You can see how Bambam proud of this album and his wish to become a national group after this album. I know this is hard to get if you see the result rn but I do, I do support them with every way I can think of. 

Please give them a lot of love and support, as we always do, fellow birds :x

ps: I wrote every song’s review when I listen to it. each time when the song ended, I stopped writing too so maybe theyre kind of short and cannot include all of my feelings for them. so pls share your own thought too cause maybe we can be on the same wavelength :)

[janedrewfinally]

Sparkles! Dancing! Fight sequences! Which were also dancing! Not Really Japanese History! Shrine maidens! Sparkles! More dancing! In other words, “Wind over Yamatai-koku,” aka my first chance to see a live Takarazuka performance, followed by the revue “Sante!” (I cannot get this keyboard to do proper accent marks; sorry). (Several versions of this post were basically incoherent flailing) Now, the thing is, my Japanese language skills are… minimal. So I knew going in that this was not going to be something where, um, the intricacies of the plot would go completely over my head. So this is not so much a review as my impressions. But that’s okay, because I have a long history of watching things in languages that I don’t really understand and managing by virtue of keen observational skills, genre-saviness, and flat-out making stuff up!

Me (as the show starts): Okay, I’m seeing why people say to bring opera glasses, because I have awesome visibility but from very far away. Main Character Takehiko (played by Asumi Rio): *enters dramatically, dressed in white and blue with a long coat* Other assorted characters: *also enter dramatically, in white and beiges and some blues* All characters: *introductory singing and dancing* Other group of characters: *dash in dramatically, dressed in black with red accents, and start brandishing weapons* Me: Gosh, however will the audience be able to keep track of who the bad guys are?

Fortunately, the Taka-Wiki page has the official show summary, which is how I knew that we’re dealing with the kingdoms of Yamatai-koku (the good guys) and Kuna-koku (the bad guys). Takehiko, who is a warrior for Yamatai-kou, then goes into flashback mode… Young Takehiko: *runs from Kuna-koku warriors in a forest* Elderly Mentor Character, Clearly a Martial Arts Badass: Small child, why are you running away? Young Takehiko: *hides some more* Warriors from Kuna-Koku: *enter and attempt to fight Elderly Mentor Character* Elderly Mentor Character: Like that’s going to work; you didn’t even bring the main bad guy with you!

After defeating the warriors, the Elderly Mentor Character gets Young Takehiko to share his tragic backstory (his parents were murdered), and Young Takehiko asks to be made his apprentice.

We then get… sort of a training montage? It’s Young Takehiko trying to sneak up on his mentor with a fighting staff, indicating that some training has happened, except it doesn’t work, so, you know, not a LOT of training has happened.

Then there was more training/staff-fighting, and a quite clever shift out of flashback mode by virtue of having Young Takehiko go partly off-stage, so you just see the end of the staff, and then Regular Takehiko comes out.

Elderly Mentor Character: As part of my sage life advice, let me introduce you to Chekov’s Ordeal of Sticking Your Hand Into a Pot of Boiling Water or Possibly Snakes. Congratulations; your training is now complete! Let me give you this sword, and send you off to practice. I’m sure that I’ll be fine; it’s only three more days until I retire. Warriors from Kuna-Koku: *show up again for… some reason?* Elderly Mentor Character: Drat, I see that you’ve brought the main bad guy this time. *dies*

Takehiko, of course, is Distraught to find his murdered mentor, and dashes off into the woods. Meanwhile, a young woman named Mana is being escorted by warriors of Yamatai-koku, because she is either a) going to be trained as a miko, b) the super-special young woman who is/hears the “voice of the kami,” c) both? Basically it means that periodically she falls over into a spotlight and spouts off prophetic stuff, which is doubtless appropriately poetic. Of course, the bad guys show up and kill her escort, and Takehiko (who is still Distraught) runs in in time to injure and/or kill assorted bad guys who are not the main bad guy and rescue Mana. They have a Meet Cute interlude in the woods, she gives him one of her necklaces (it’s magatama, so it’s clearly a Meaningful Necklace- and no, I could not even slightly see that from the stage; it’s in the promotional pictures).

Then the rest of her escort (or another escort?) shows up, and she explains the situation, and they are So Enthused at Takehiko’s clear leading role status that they basically drag him off to make him a member of the Proud and Skillful Warriors of Yamatai-koku, including Mute Karate Guy, Leader Guy, and Spunky Arrow Girl (who doesn’t like Takehiko at all, in the sense that she yells at him a lot but can’t stop thinking about his hair).

Takehiko is super-enthused to have friends! I am super-enthused to recognize the word “nakama”! Yay!

Umm.. some amount of time passes, because Mana is one of the shrine maidens, under the head shrine priestess- there is ritual singing and graceful dancing and invocations, until the head priestess staggers (she is meant to be much older), and then recovers to name Mana as her successor (as near as I could figure, Mana was brought to the main shrine because she has/is the “voice of the kami,” but this seems to be the first time that it’s been clear that she’s supposed to become the new head priestess).

Mana: I will become the head priestess, and change my name to Himiko, because that’s the name of a major ruler/priestess in the earliest Chinese accounts of Japan! Lots of other kings (?): *politics, politics, politics* That One King Who Is Clearly Evil Because His Outfit Is Fanciest: I don’t like this new head priestess, because of Reasons.

One of the reasons is, I think, that Mana/Himiko is not from within the court; another is that there was an Evil Miko who got passed over, who is.. either the daughter of a different king and involved with the Clearly Evil King, or is the daughter of the Clearly Evil King (I think it was supposed to be the first option).

Takehiko: *sees Himiko in full voice-of-the-kami/head priestess regalia*: Wait.. that’s the girl I had the Meet Cute with! This is NOT what I thought she meant by us meeting again! I am lowercase-“d” distraught! His nakama: Shhh! Don’t let on that you know the head priestess; there are Rules about this! Elsewhere: *the main general of the bad guys plots to figure out a way to completely take over Yamatai-koku, supported by his king- and some really awesome scene changes, by the way; very impressive*

At this point, the plot consists of:

1) Takehiko is still in love with Mana, who is the new head priestess and therefore untouchable/unavailable. 2) That One King and the Evil Miko are plotting to get rid of Himiko. 3) The kingdom next door still wants to conquer Yamatai-koku.

At one point, I think that the village maidens (not to be confused with the shrine maidens) straight-up invented sake, and there was a big celebration.

It gets attacked by the kingdom next door, obviously.

Having realized that Takehiko is pining for the head priestess, the Evil Miko pretends that Himiko had sent for him, in order to set the two of them up with Standard Accusations of Lost Honor/Virtue. They do get to have an emotional reunion and a lovely duet first, so there’s that?

Council of Kings: *sings angrily about the state of things today, when head priestesses can just sing duets with handsome young men and expect there will not be dire consequences*

(I think that one of the things that’s also going on is that Takehiko’s position is also affected by the fact that he also wasn’t originally local, but I’m not 100% on that)

Council of Kings: We demand that you prove that you are not guilty through the use of Chekov’s Ordeal of Sticking Your Hand into a Pot of Boiling Water or Possibly Snakes! Takehiko: … seriously? Well, okay, then!

He passes the ordeal, but then!!!! Himiko is ordered to channel the voice of the kami… and can’t!

Council of Kings: *more angry singing* (with a side of confusion, because it’s really weird that Takehiko passed the ordeal, but Himiko no longer gets prophetic)

Evil Miko: *goes to the bad guys in the kingdom next door and tells them about Himiko, hoping to be rewarded* Bad guys: *lock up Evil Miko, and plan to attack* Evil Miko: I don’t understand how my cunning plan failed…

Takehiko goes to talk to Himiko/Mana, saying that since she no longer has/is the voice of the kami, there’s no reason they can’t run away together! More duets! Of course, as they are heading out, she falls over poetically into the spotlight and sounds a warning about the imminent attack.

I… think that the kings either aren’t there, or aren’t listening to a disgraced head priestess, or are too far away?? Anyway, Takehiko heads out to fend off the attack on his own (heroically), but ends up taking his nakama with him.

Um. They all die? So that’s a thing that happens.

The final duel between Takehiko and the main guy amongst the bad guys ends dramatically, with Takehiko being wounded, and the bad guy taking longer to collapse (but then he totally dies… um… I am not sure what happens to the other kingdom or the king or… welll, the war?).

Takehiko seems like he’s dead, but then!!! The spirits of his assorted nakama appear in spotlights and give him a pep talk.

Meanwhile, the Council of Kings is still skeptical about Himiko’s actually having her abilities back, even when Takehiko shows up.

Himiko: I predict an eclipse! Council of Kings: We are very skeptical and don’t believe you and WHY IS THE SKY ALL DARK WHERE DID THE SUN GO?

(I am PRETTY SURE that the swirly lights and other effects were meant to be an eclipse)

Everybody panics about the eclipse, until finally light starts appearing again.

Himiko and Takehiko meet for a final scene in the woods, where… um… I think that the general tenor of the dialoge was that they know they can’t run away together, because they have responsibilities, but then they ended by dancing together in a swirl of cherry blossom petals, so I don’t know if he was leaving, or he was staying, or what exactly the ending note was).

The review, “Sante,” was all about wine and the dreams you have when drinking in Paris (or the dreams you have about Paris while drinking)- it was tons of fun! Can totally see the reasons for being down on the ground floor, because there was a lot of “and now we are going to dance in the aisles,” and the first row had the plastic wine glasses that Asumi Rio actually went and clinked her glass with during one number.

I’m not quite sure if all Takarazuka reviews are required to have at least one number where everybody has those crazy flamenco costume sleeve ruffles (side note: has Takarazuka ever performed “Cuban Pete,” because, that would be amaaaazing), but that was in there…. also a super-cute French chefs number, and a really emotional vocal solo about lost love (side note again: has Takarazuka ever performed “I Won’t Send Roses”?).

Then there was a climactic number that was either an epic battle between the forces of Good and Evil, or an epic battle between the forces of Riesling and Burgundy (the winner seemed to be Asumi Rio playing the role of a very flamboyantly pink Moscato?).

Cast: *proceeds to do a dramatic number involving those stairs* Me: How is that nobody ever messes up on the stairs? I would totally fall down if I even tried. Asumi Rio: *immediately almost misses a move on the steps* Me: ACK NO FORGET I SAID ANYTHING NO QUESTIONS HERE Afterwards, I had to dash to the train station (and also I was not quite sure where the grand exit location was, which I probably should have sussed out earlier if I wanted to stick around for any of that.

[theworstbob]

the thing journal, 3.19.2017

review-like bitlets of the 7+ new things i took in last week.

this week: mystery team, what we do in the shadows, quelle chris, /sigh/ ed sheeran, the lies of locke lamora, sorority noise, margo price, valerie june

1) Mystery Team, dir. Dan Eckman: This is such a small movie, and such a relatively hidden gem, that I kinda feel bad for pointing out flaws. There's so much charm that I feel the gross-out humor is, while executed well, really out-of-place, doesn’t really fit with what I thought the movie was best at doing, and I really think they should've done more with Donald Glover's boundless exuberance and Aubrey Plaza's deadpan stare; that's a quality comic pairing that I kinda think got short shrift, and for good reason, it's DerrickComedy not DerrickComedy & Friends, but that's still a well they could've explored more. (Hey Bob! maybe edit that sentence?) Nah, dude. Such a solid comedy, though. The central goof somehow never grows tiresome, is in fact never fully abandoned, and they take this concept to really interesting places; like, these characters in a gentleman's club would have been good enough, but they found an absurd angle to take that took it to a whole new level (and then they took it to... a different place? a decidedly less whimsical place, to be certain). There's a lot of imagination, and that’s this film’s saving grace. Honestly, bringing up what I don’t like about this film kind of feels like analyzing a newborn fawn’s first steps. “Yeah, see, the great ones, they strut out the womb. Birth to trot time here is pitiful, not pro-quality at all. You can tell he doesn’t have that motor. You can’t teach motor, you just c -- why is it vomiting. Goddamnit, but why.”

2) What We Do in the Shadows, dir. Taika Waititi: I'm counting this as a film I haven't seen before because I was half-asleep the first time I saw it! It's... Enjoyable, I guess, is the right word? Hey. Team. Let's real quick talk about something. Why has every comedy I've seen in 2017 had a protracted vomiting sequence? It was a good time in Santa Clarita Diet. It was at least acceptable in Mystery Team because that's about what I expected from a film of its caliber. Why did anyone need to vomit here? Or, perhaps more accurately, why have I missed what makes vomit so inherently funny? The gross-out gag didn't really fit the general vibe of this film. This film was so subtle, so deadpan it's hard to tell what the jokes were, then the dude eats a fry, "You shouldn't have done that!" BLEEEEEEEEH like why, did that advance anyone's arc in a meaningful way that i just missed, did it test so well that they would've been fools to cut it, i don't get it. That was the one thing about this movie that wasn't right up my alley, which is why I spent so many sentences talking about it.

3) Being You Is Great, I Wish I Could Be You More Often, by Quelle Chris: Because I've never smoked pot in my life, I was initially put off by the weirdness of this album, but because I'm a generally weird person, I was on this album's wavelength by about halfway through, and now I'm stoked to give this an album a shot now that I know what to expect and that it's something I feel. It's especially nice to hear something this weird and unique because I came to this on Monday and, hey, y'all know what I did over the last weekend? Listened to a fuckton of shitty pop(/country) songs from 2007. It's such a treat to come into this world where this dude's being his own dude.

4) Divide, by Ed Sheeran: In what world is "Eraser" not just an acceptable track to put on this album, but the opening track ahead of "Castle on the Hill." "Castle on the Hill" strikes a much clearer tone, sets an actual mission. "Eraser" is just the song where Ed Sheeran raps because how do you know your limits if you never push them, and not only is it a bad intro, it’s redundant because THAT'S WHAT "GALWAY GIRL" IS THERE TO DO. Ugh. Whatever. I hate how much I enjoyed "Galway Girl." I dunno, this wasn't the worst thing in the world, there were parts were I was like "enh" but parts I really dug, so I guess cheers to exactly fulfilling my expectations!, but I kinda wish it had a more cohesive sound? This was like Ed Sheeran's tour through the magical world of music. This is U2! This is dancehall! This is traditional Irish rap! This is what your exceedingly normal cousins will play at their weddings! This? is Spain!??? And it's like hey man, just be yourself. /remembers ed sheeran's early works Yeah OK this is more than acceptable, then. As something I made myself listen to for a thing no one ever asked for, I couldn't have asked for a better time.

5) The Lies of Locke Lamora, by Scott Lynch: This was a really impressive con man story told within the parameters of basic-ass fantasy. It was this Breaking Bad-esque display of a character getting out of the tightest corners possible, and part of the extrication from the corner involves a sword fight. Father Chains is one of the best, most down-to-earth characters I've ever come across in this kind of novel, and there's a short interlude toward the end between Chains and the title character that I'm still thinking about and laughing at, but it is this kind of novel, where they call chicken “capon.” You can call it chicken. No one’s gonna call bullshit if you call it chicken. Goddamnit. Like there's a Gabe Liedman bit about The Fantasy which all fantasy novelists apparently share and how boring that makes standard fantasy, and I don't 100% get why this needed to be set in a vaguely Spanish (but almost certainly British) fantasy land with an all-powerful wizard? But y'know what, if that's what's in your heart, you write your heart out, and the fact this was fantasy didn't keep me from having a grand old two weeks on the bus.

6) You're Not as _____ as You Think, by Sorority Noise: After my first listen, I immediately hit play on this thing again, 'cuz fuuuuuuuuck, y'all. One of my favorite records of last year was The Hotelier's Goodness, it was this odd little thing that I kept returning to because it kept hitting me in this certain way, felt like an album that sort of understood the special way in which I'm depressed. This album does what Goodness does, but in a more conventional way, speaking about emptiness and failure and staying in your own head, but with music that positively soars at points, like holy shit "A Portait Of" is kind of perfect? And maybe it's worth dissecting why something more conventional hit me harder than the weirdness of Goodness, but fuck it, not now, this is _____ time, and I absolutely love this. If this doesn't end up being my #1 album of 2017, I'm going to be so stoked, because I will have heard something better than this. My favorite punk album since No Closer to Heaven. I don't think I'm going to be capable of having rational thoughts about this album.

7) Midwest Farmer's Daughter, by Margo Price: hahaha you can hear the OH SHIT I DON'T WANT IT TO BE ALL DUDES THIS WEEK from a million miles away! I really dug this. I think it's probably the least interesting out of anything in the recent rash of traditional-leaning country albums, but we're talking about Big Day in a Small Town and Sailor's Guide to Earth and Traveler, that is a strong-ass chain that would see this album as the weakest link. I think, because I had this follow _____, I wasn't really in a space where I could connect to a different kind of sadness than my own? And it's not fair to this album that its evaluation should suffer because I try to binge albums.

7a) The Sun's Tirade, by Isaiah Rashad: So like I've listened to this a couple times on the bus before, so it doesn’t belong in the New Things category, but I just wanted to give this a quick shout-out, because I actually spent some uninterrupted quality time with it (previous listens have been marred by connection issues MUSIC IN 2017 HOLLA), and man, this dude kills it. It's like a Gothic OutKast, if that makes any sense. I'm really intrigued to see how he builds off of this, because man, if he can put the pieces together, he's gonna be incredible.

8) The Order of Time, by Valerie June: It should surprise no one I lurk on a website called Saving Country Music, which is where I heard about this woman, and I was intrigued enough by the description to check her out, and this is like the country version of the Quelle Chris album, where it took me a few tracks to get on the same wavelength, but once I was there, I was there, and I loved spending time in this fully-realized world. I almost feel bad calling this country; trying to fit this into a genre feels inappropriate, like, there isn't a word for Valerie June's songs, there's only the phrase Valerie June's songs. There’s this album I listened to last year, My Wild West by Lissie, this really dreamy and ethereal-feeling folk-rock album, and that’s the closest comparison I can find to The Order of Time, except The Order of Time is more eclectic, has a more interesting sound. It’s a touch slower than what I typically go for, but this is a phenomenal artist doing something crazy-unique and making it sound dope, and I appreciate it.

[khukei]

[BTS - Wings] Album Review

4 months late because I got busy with life but hey better late than never right? A mini album can be dissected in a day because there’s only 7 songs max, but in Wings we have 15 tracks to chew and digest. And that is my excuse. 

ANYWAY

So my friend (who is the culprit behind my conversion to KPOP), talked me into joining this nationwide bulk ordering movement for BTS’ Wings album. 

Wings is my very first physical Kpop album and honestly, I still feel a mild pang of guilt because I wanted to get SHINee’s 1 of 1 first since they were my first love in KPOP  but Wings came in the mail first so okay.  Forgive me, SHINee! 

 Now I understand why physical  KPOP albums sell so much despite the dominance of digital downloads. I mean wow. HD pictures, posters, photo cards and other merch. I also noticed that the CDs are just casually tucked in a page like it’s just an afterthought. The albums are also quite cheap. You’re basically just paying for the photo book. But I do use the CD because I like me some high quality audio. 

 So here are my thoughts on each track:  1.Intro: Boy Meets Evil  There are some interesting vocal effects/EQing going on here. Also the lyrics are really poetic. This is btw what got me into BTS in the first place, they sing about relevant issues and matters that young adults could really relate to.  Memorable line:   I threw my future away because I was drunk on dating

2.Blood Sweat & Tears

Ah, the title track. What else could I say? This is a masterpiece. The production is amazing. This was everyone’s jam in the last quarter of 2016. And V’s incredibly deep voice, wow. I like how they’re using the Spanish mode and incorporating trap hi hat things into the mix. Everyone’s using trap hi hat these days but this is the first time I’ve heard it used in a song with a Spanish beat and chord progression. It’s strange to me, but it works! 

Memorable line:  I wanna be addicted to your prison So I can’t serve anyone that’s not you Even though I know, I drink the poisonous Holy Grail 3.Begin (Jungkook solo)

The harmonization in this song is amazing. Kudos to the vocal arranger. And the lyrics are so meaningful and sweet. Jungkook’s singing is on point too, but that goes without saying.  Memorable line:  I feel like I’m going to die when hyung is sad When hyung is in pain, it hurts more than when I’m in pain 

  4.Lie (Jimin solo)

Blood Sweat and Tears is a music production treat, but in my opinion, Lie takes the prize in production quality. I like the incorporation of some Spanish elements in this album, it’s not a parody nor an imitation and it’s  really well done. Also, before I checked the lyrics I thought he was saying Karina Lie. The real line is caught in a lie. I have a friend named Karina so lol #MisheardLyrics

Memorable line:  Find the me that was innocent I can’t free myself from this lie Give me back my laughter

5.Stigma (V solo)

I’m going to mention again how much I am a fan of V’s deep voice. We take a sharp turn from a Spanish-y song to a more familiar RnB vibe on this one. And oh man, V’s high note genuinely surprised me The lyrics are once again very meaningful and vulnerable. This is really what sets BTS apart from other groups. Relevance. Relatableness. Authenticity. *applauds*

Memorable line: Deeper, deeper, the wound just gets deeper Like pieces of broken glass that I can’t reverse Deeper, it’s just the heart that hurts every day (You) who was punished in my stead, You who were only delicate and fragile 6.First Love (Suga solo) This one is a slow and mellow rap song. Well actually, if you ask me I’d call this a Spoken Word piece. It’s already very poetic just reading the English translation, how much more in its pure, unadulterated form. I really like how Suga’s voice is EQ’d here also. The overall vibe of this song reminds me of Kingdom hearts. I don’t know why.  I find it hard to jive with Suga’s rap flow in this song, but that’s probably just due to the language barrier. 

Memorable line: Even though I was gone for a long time Without repulsion You accepted me Without you there’s nothing After the dawn, two of us We welcomed the morning together Don’t let go of my hand forever, I won’t let go of you again either 7.Reflection (Rap Monster solo)

Here is one sad/creepy sounding song. The synth parts remind me for some reason of Creepshow. You know, Stephen King’s horror anthology films in the 80′s. The instrumental part after the first verse could really pass off as Creepshow’s soundtrack. The slow pulsing delays adds even more to the melancholy yet creepy vibe of this song. Mentioning Creepshow probably ruined the moment, but I can’t help it! But yeah, this song is really-- how many times did I say meaningful already?!

Memorable line:  In the darkness, people look happier than the day

8.MAMA (J-Hope solo) This is my favorite track in the whole album simply because it’s upbeat and more cheerful compared to the other darker, more somber songs in the earlier parts of this album. I’m biased towards happy songs. The general vibe of this track reminds me of happy go lucky rap songs in the 90s and that’s because of the bass line. The short and subtle choir parts near the end was also a nice touch.  

Memorable line:  You were like fertilizer to a budding plant Now I’m a flower, I’ll be your flower path 9.Awake (Jin solo)

From upbeat hip hop we then transition to a sentimental orchestra fusion song. Because BTS is cool like that. This is my second favorite song. There is real tension and release going on here that will really take you up on a ride. Or maybe that’s just me. The melodic hooks really stick with you and touch your heart. The bridge is the best part here. 

Memorable line: Maybe I, I can’t touch the sky Still, I want to stretch my hand out I want to run, just a bit more 10.Lost This song starts off with with the familiar Spanish vibe with the acoustic guitar and RnB chords but then when we get to the chorus it suddenly changes to this very loud, in your face Dubstep phrase that for some reason, works! 

Memorable line:  I didn’t know there were this many Paths I can’t go and paths I can’t take I never felt this way before Am I becoming an adult?

11.BTS Cypher Pt. 4  

A very angsty song about the struggles of being an idol. This type of sound isn’t really my cup of tea. But the lyrics make up for it. 

Memorable line:  I’m sorry bae because I’m breathing I’m sorry bae because I’m so healthy 

12.Am I Wrong 

I’m not a fan of country music. And this song is kind of like a fusion. And even though it’s not completely country the main riff is annoying to me. Hill Billies suddenly come to mind. But as usual the lyrics is the redeeming factor so I still appreciate this song. 

Memorable line:  If what you see on the news is nothing to you If that comment is nothing to you If that hatred is nothing to you You’re not normal, you’re abnormal 

13.21st Century Girls 

Yey for women empowerment!! And here we go again with the Spanish beat!  Did BTS go to Spain or something? Anyway, this song is too loud and aggressive for me. It does have its moments, but I wouldn’t put this on any of my playlists because I’m an old soul who prefers smooth grooves. 

Memorable line:  If anyone keeps insulting you (insulting you) Tell em you’re my lady, go tell them (tell them) Whatever other people say, whatever this world tells you You’re the best to me just the way you are

14.Two! Three!   

I thought this was going to be another one with the melancholy feel but I’m glad I was proven wrong when the beat picked up after the intro. Thank you!  This is like the cool down part of your cardio exercise as it is more toned down and less aggressive. Oh and the choir parts near the end are heavenly!! 

Memorable line:  Me, a shadow behind the stage, me, in the depth of darkness I didn’t want to show everything including my pain But because I’m still unaccustomed I just wanted to make you smile I wanted to do good 

  15.Interlude: Wings   I was not expecting an upbeat party/club kind of song. But somehow it makes sense. After your cool down exercise you go straight to the club to end the day. I’m not the partying type, but that’s just the vibe I’m getting from this song. It’s makes sense as the closing song. 

Memorable line: I trust myself, Since the reason why my back hurts Is so that wings can sprout 

 Final thoughts: 

I’ve already mentioned this, but what the heck, I’ll say it again! What I really like about BTS is the authenticity in their lyrics. I may not always like their music, but the words always get to me. It takes a great amount of courage for young men to be openly vulnerable, and that, for me, is very endearing.  The general theme of this album are: Depression, confusion, loss of innocence, young love, the yearning to return to happier times, mental illness... aka struggles of being an adolescent. Aka growing up. 

Speaking of mental illness, I noticed that the ordering of the tracks have a kind of bipolar feel to it due to the sudden and contrasting mood transitions of each song. Without studying the lyrics the track order might not make sense to the listener, but it all comes together nicely when you look at the lyrics. I saw what you did there, BTS. Very clever. Kudos to you all. 

For me what makes BTS very appealing to a lot of people is that they talk about very human experiences in their songs that everybody can relate to (especially adolescents). While a lot of other groups send you off to to dreamland with their perfection, BTS brings you down to earth with the harsh realities of our time and compel you to think about how you’re living your life. And that, is what I think sets them apart. 

Rating: 8/10

[supified]

Nevernight Book 1

Nevernight book 1, is by New York Times best selling author Jay Kristoff, an author whom likes betrayal and sad endings in his books. He is certainly a good author and his preferences are a big give away if you’ve read any of his work or about him just what you can expect. Since I am a nobody reviewing a work by an accomplished writer I will try to go into what I liked and didn’t like and why so you can decide for yourself if this book is something you want to read or not. I will also respond to any comments posted about the review. What can I say about Nevernight without giving away too much. As I’ve pointed out already, Jay Kristoff likes his books to be dark. This is kind of a pun for this book because shadows play a heavy role, but as far as dark is concerned I’m not entirely convinced. There is dark stuff and if you know about the author you can guess betrayal will happen. But there is also a lot of light hearted and friendly stuff going, heart warming and also the main character (at least in this book) may not be entirely the villain protagonist she’s implied to be. That’s largely up to you to decide, certainly there could be arguments either way, but it doesn’t entirely fit the kind of writing Jay claims to do. Why you may ask, do I care about what kind of writer Jay is and what to expect? Good question, me. The thing about this book is that if you’re used to modern writing and serial novels, or main stream writing, or the mega popular Young Adult genre, then you are probably familiar with more than a few tropes. The romance tropes, the frienemy tropes, the character marked to die, the bury your gays, the fact that most modern authors who want to avoid controversy will simply pretend LGBT doesn’t exist. So on. If you go into this book with that in mind then Nevernight is going to start ringing alarm bells quick and is going to keep ringing them for the good first half of the story. Now this isn’t a critique, this is more a warning that what Jay does in the first half of this book is set the stage. You’re actually supposed to do that with the three act structure of story telling so it’s good that he does. In the first act, which can easily span half a book (three acts doesn’t necessarily mean each act gets equal book time, in fact typically act three is the climax and is the shortest by far). Anyway, the important thing of the three act structure is act one sets the stage and tells you what is and isn’t, therefore it is vitally important and this book uses it extensively to build for what is to come. In a nutshell if you find yourself bothered by over used tropes in the beginning, don’t be, because they’re there to build the story and the pay offs in my view are quite worthwhile because they turn many of those tropes on their heads. There are some problems, but the book is by no means stale or entirely predictable. The book tries to convince you rather heavily that it will be a dark tale and it largely is. A lot of the people whom are going to die will be red shirts (nameless fodder), with some more heavy consequences not appearing until later, but even near the end there mostly red shirt slaughter. I found this particularly interesting because it doesn’t fully express how much the opposition may view the acts perpetrated as evil. The book doesn’t gloss over this nearly as much as many other stories do, but still there isn’t a lot of sense of the “bad guys” living normal lives with families as they almost certainly did. It’s implied that they had lives and that’s no small point to make to the book’s credit. If you like black and white stories where your good guys are white and so on then this book will probably bother you. While there are bones thrown to make the good guys likeable, you’d have to bury your head in the sand to completely miss how dark their actions are and the book does try to throw hints and reminders toward this end. Besides the three-act structure, another good rule to remember when writing is to focus on a topic and stick to it. Most books break this rule by throwing in sub plots, with romance being far and away the most popular sub plot. This book does have a romance plot, but is it truly a sub plot? In the early sections of the book, the first half I mentioned before, it felt that way. A great deal of the romantic interludes happens at inappropriate times. That part is a critique because you shouldn’t be doing playful romantic banter when your life is on the line, but this totally happens a bunch. Still, the romance as much as it feels like a distraction from the main material is an important part of the story. I won’t give away what that is, only to say that if you like romance you should enjoy this one, if you don’t like romance you should still read ahead because it is important for interesting reasons that fit entirely with the narrative of the story. A couple caveats. There is about twenty pages of very graphic bedroom wrestling (sex) which depending on your taste, you can just skip. It won’t detract from the story if you choose not to read about the intimate stuff that happens. Het norm themes and gender themes are especially odd in this book. During the first half of the story, the het-norm narratives are overwhelming. At first, I thought the author was just going to go the route of avoiding controversy by ignoring the existence of LGBT, but I was wrong. In fact, the book treats it as a non-issue and it does occur and no one blinks or thinks twice about it. This was a relief and a breath of fresh air, though it was still very het normy and this feeds into the greater gender role stuff. You can tell this book is written by a male. For one there is a lot of assumptions about female life that a guy would have. Like a girl casually talking about her pmsing on people, though never once in the book that takes place over several months, if not years, does any of the female characters display monthly irritability. If you read about PMS, it’s a real thing, but men who pin it to women really don’t know what they’re talking about and treating it like a common and typical occurrence just isn’t reality. You can look it up. You could argue that the book world isn’t ours, but since the book fails to show this as a thing anywhere in the story we can chalk it up probably to a male view on women. Additionally, the view of what women find attractive in the story (in one another at least) is heavily slanted at what would probably appeal mostly to men. Full lips, big busts? Sure, typical male might like that, but I really don’t think women have the boob envy as written by a lot of male oriented stuff. It’s a small potatoes complaint I think, but it does show and I think it also explains why LGBT is handled the way it is. If this bothers you at least you should know it’s not a big part of the book and you could probably skip these sections (usually just a line long here and there) and move on. My real complaints are more grounded in a few of the things the book does that I feel either didn’t make sense in a bigger picture sort of way, or just seemed awfully dues ex machina. The whole idea of a dues ex machina is the author takes control of the narrative to force something. Another good rule of writing is not to tell lies, and dues ex machina’s are always lies. What is a lie? Well it is basically making something happen that doesn’t make sense to the world or characters. If Walter White from Breaking bad solved a problem by turning into literal super man and flying then that’s a lie. Super man simply does not exist in his world and Walter White isn’t super man. In this book the powers assigned to characters are at times, way too much. It’s to the extent that I had to ask myself would the world function the way it did if people like this, or things like this truly existed? Would they be treated as cavalier as they are? I found this a little immersion breaking, especially when these sorts of super powers started solving problems for characters. It just felt lazy and made the action scenes less meaningful. If the author was just going to give someone something, like training they didn’t establish or a power then why bother? It is hard to get emotionally invested in a tense scene when these sorts of things happen and I kind of wish there was more thought put into them or checks and balances. So, should you read the book? The biggest thing I would say is that if you can’t handle dark stuff you probably won’t like this book. There will be some heart break if you are invested and prefer happy endings and Jay Kristoff has said he doesn’t really like to write those super happily ever endings. You might not be happy if you like the good guys winning narratives either. This just isn’t that author though and even he might suggest you look elsewhere if that is you. If it isn’t though, if his tag about what kind of stuff he writes does appeal to you then you probably should read it. There may be sections that bother you, but the pay off in the end is pretty good and the time spent setting the stage does have a meaningful conclusion. As far as some of the cheating is concerned with narrative conveniences, it’s a gripe, but not in my view one worth skipping this book over. Ultimately, I would say I liked it more than I didn’t and at times a lot more.