#I need to keep it plugged into the mains or it dies in a couple of hours

[positivelyghastly]

Someone stop me, I'm reworking a huge part of a finished drawing to add more unnecessary details again

[openscene]

This week I have been working with a young band to cut a song for their new release. They have been cutting their own demos on a cassette four track but wanted to do one in studio as a lead in to the rest of the album. We spent a bit of time talking about guitars at the start. The feel was start with Nirvana - Bleach style sound; thick but loose with lots of drive. After playing with a few sounds, we locked into a slightly driven AC30 top boost and then used a JHS Pack Rat to really drive the amp. After some back and forth on different Rat models, we settled in on the 'Caroline' mode that offered a lot of gain with some overtones not present elsewhere. For microphones, I used my trusty pair of an Ear Trumpet Labs Edwina and a Sennheiser MD421 II on the AC30. I like the similar but different tonal qualities of each, especially in the top end when dealing with distortion. It really allows it to sound like two different amps in a lot of ways. For the drums, I stuck to my normal array of microphones. Sennheiser e902 on the kick, e905 on the snare top, e904 on the rack and floor toms, SM7B on the hats, and a matched pair of Lewitt 140AIR condensors as overheads. I like this set up for a rock band as it allows me to run live off the floor and get good sounds, plus it feels a lot like how I would engineer it live. If I were to change anything, I would have lowered the overheads a bit to more closely mic the cymbals as Sam is a bit of a hard hitter. I also ran an ElectroVoice RE20 as a room mic; I originally had considered using a large diaphragm condensor like an ETL Edwina or Rode NT1A from my arsenal but, in a smaller room like mine, liked the idea of being able to be more unidirectional and aim directly at kick drum from across the room.

While we tracked the guitar and drums live off the floor, we tracked bass and vocals separately. Sam played my Fender Jaguar bass and we put it through a SansAmp Bass Driver DI and a vintage Traynor MonoBlock II into a Traynor TC1510 cabinet with the EV RE20 on a 10" speaker. We dialed in a slight drive sound through the Bass Driver, but tried to keep it somewhat clean and smooth to contrast with the high gain of the guitar.

Since picking it up on the cheap second hand, the EV RE20 has also been my go to mic for vocals in the studio and we again went with it for this one. Rick doesn't particularly sing loud but is fairly consistent in his volume and cadence, so getting takes wasn't difficult. Overall, we cut three full takes and a couple of partial takes to go through. Largely, the final vocal line was taken from two main takes with occasional words or lines from others, but again his singing was consistent so it was fairly easy to choose the best takes for the final track.

Sam, Rick, and I spent about the last hour or so really dialing in a working reference mix so we could come back to it with fresh ears the next day. The biggest direction from the band was to get the guitar most present in the mix. Mixing the two mics together, we got a really aggressive sound that needed a touch of taming on the high end. Once the bass was added, it really thickened and added punch to the mix. We mixed the drums to this, starting with overheads and then adding the individual channels. I have a tendency to set kick very high in the mix, so I tried to be aware in my placement of this. Sam and I differ in our preference of snare sound, so I tried to find a happy medium between his like for high end and my beefier preference. Ultimately, it is a bit thinner than I prefer but still has a lot of presence from the overheads.

The vocals is where we spent a lot of time creatively. We started with some EQ and the Abbey Road J37 Tape Saturation plug in to get a bit of a fuzzy sound. We tried some different reverb sounds to give space, but ultimately ended up working with the delay in the Greg Wells VoiceCentric plugin to get where we wanted. I like this plugin for vocal compression, so it ended up being a good way to get both on the vocal chain.

After leaving it to fresh ears, I played with the mix a bit and changed some compression settings the next day. I went back to the EQs on the kick and snare but the band to be more my taste but the band ended up preferring where we were previously and we changed it back. We added more delay and I cleaned up a bit of EQ in the Master chain while adding some loudness and compression on the final mix. Overall, it was a quick job on a scrappy song but we all ended up with something we were happy with and the band will be releasing it on time for their show on Saturday, October 11 at Gobblefest 30 here in Sydney.

[lemonlurkrr]

@aureateart​ ok. My favourite parts of twilight princess  (and some other random thoughts about TP sprinkled in there) taken from my monster TP word vomit google doc :

Link lmao

Ok but for real, I like this incarnation of Link :)

I love Ordon (it just seems like such a chill and cozy village)

ALSO love how easy it is to interpret Link as being a sort of older brother figure to the Ordon kiddos. It’s just,, super cute? AND GHHH nice nice good thanks nintendo for giving me characters to care about/characters that I can imagine Link caring about

He didn’t sign up for any of this (tbh, none of the Links really signed up for this jshdjsd). But I mean like, dude was just going to take a trip to castle town, drop a gift off for the royal family, and come back. But haHA oopsies he did get to castle town eventually but definitely not the way he expected hsjdhsd

He’s just a little dude?

AND FUCK. HE REALLY HAD NEVER BEEN OUTSIDE OF ORDON UNTIL ALL OF THAT

everything is new for the player AND Link

Midna

She’s cool :)

she really just

*teleports into your jail cell* hello whore.

I am no master at writing but AYYYY she do got a character arc!!!

She was actually pretty helpful sometimes, I ALWAYS checked in with her before turning to a game guide

Other NPCs

NICE

Love all of the TP character designs (ASHEI’S ARMOUR??? AOWOAOAOOAO)

Saving Zelda and all of Hyrule was important yea but thinking back maybe it was more like, the Ordonians and the kids were what was pushing Link to keep on going

I like the Resistance members :) Very video gamey of them to have one NPC assigned to each dungeon but hey!!! Kinda cool getting to see a little glimpse of each of em

Idk, it’s just fun to imagine Link popping into Telma’s bar after each dungeon and taking a little rest :) (or to celebrate? maybe just chat, idk, give this man some downtime!!)

Honestly it was just kind of nice that Link wasn’t entirely alone. I mean, I know Midna was there the whole time, but I am always for giving Link a big group of friends (see my love for hyrule warriors, age of calamity, and LU LMAO)

Hero’s shade, very very cool, kinda sad he died with regrets but HEY. He got to pass on his knowledge eventually

AND the connection to OoT?? AND assumed to be related by blood too????? GOOD SHIT

Ilia, I REALLY really wanted to like her (er, it’s not like I dislike her, she’s just,,, kinda there for me).

It definitely seems like Nintendo was pushing to make her the romantic interest, but GHHHHH they really threw that out of the window for me by having her lose her memories

I saw a text post a while ago that said it would have been interesting if Ilia was Link’s sister instead and YES!! That would have been cool too :0

Wish we got to know Zelda a little more

I feel like we barely know anything about her

Idk man, like I said earlier, I never really had any sort of drive to save Zelda during my playthroughs

She obviously knows Midna, so maybe if they gave us just a little bit more of that relationship I’d be more interested in her?

TP WORLD BUILDINGGGG

Botw has good world building too, but each race felt kinda,,, isolated? I absolutely love the different architecture and vibe each town has (and all the the weapons too) but ghhh yea everyone felt so separated. As far as I can remember, we don’t see tooo much of the races interacting with each other? Now that I’m typing that out maybe that’s to be expected because of the calamity but KLSJDKJFD ANYWAYS THIS IS ABOUT TP

The world feels nice and alive, love how populated everything is

Castle town I like castle town a lot, it feels dense and busy and I really like how you can’t talk to every NPC you see

Very cool very fun that we got to see the Gorons hanging out in multiple spots

kinda wish we got to see the Zoras a little more (I guess they are a bit limited since they need water but GHHHH the tp zoras are so prebby,,)

BUT HEY, I do remember seeing a zora or two hanging out in the hot springs around death mountain after beating the lakebed temple (I think, might have been a different dungeon) 

but aaaa would have been nice to see them in at least a couple of other places. I think it would have really added to the “congrats Link!! You’re restoring peace to Hyrule” feeling you get from seeing the Gorons hanging out in Kakariko and Castle Town

ORDON

Love how chill it is and how it’s kind of separate from Hyrule proper

They really do seem to be doing their own thing apart from the rest of Hyrule

Just kinda adds onto the “he’s just a regular dude minding his own business” kind of vibes I get from TP Link

Also I like Ordona :)

THE LIGHT SPIRITS,,

Love their design

And love how they’re not exactly like a pure white?

Different spirit representing each aspect of the triforce my beloved

But yes hi I think Ordona is very cool

Who are you, how did you get here, which goddess do you represent? Do you even represent one of the three golden goddesses? Do the Ordonians know about you? Have any of them ever SEEN you??? Do they worship you? Does anybody even know about the existence of the light spirits?? FUCK so many questions but ghhh I like how they broke the status quo a bit by throwing in a fourth spirit :)

I feel like this one is kinda weird but I like that voice sample they used in the light spirit music. It’s spooky and pretty at the same time :)  

cutscenes mmmmm

Ok ok, the spooky lanayru cutscene is very good

BUT THE “Link, Chosen Hero! Lend us the last of your power!” CUTSCENE MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM LOVE IT SO MUCH

IT just

Idk man

It just hit different

I like the music

And seeing the light spirits swimming around in the light juice water whatever it is

Summoning the light arrows?

AND HHHHH “Lend us the last of your power!” THIS IS IT. This is the final battle.

Seeing Zelda bow down, and then Link putting his hand out 👌👌👌

Link: ok bud, let’s do this together :)

Connection to OoT (did I already mention this? Maybe., Whatever)

Very cool nintendo :)

I love seeing connections between all the diff zelda games.

Because like, on one hand, they’re all separate from each other because of yknow, individual hero stuff. BUT ALSO, they’re all connected because of the reincarnation stuff

Grrrr walking through the sacred grove and going “The Hero of Time walked around here a long time ago” FUCK THATS SO COOL

Is the Hero’s Shade watching me? What does he think of me? DIsappointed? Proud? The Hero of Time went through HELL so this timeline didn’t have to deal with any of the shit Ganon was gonna pull with the triforce, better not fuck this UP Link!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Midlink is cute

Kinda hurts that she smashed the mirror but that was probably so Nintendo didn’t have to worry about people going “but what about the twili??????” for any of the other games LMAO

BUT ALSO LIKE SKJDKLJFJ There are some pretty massive plot holes in TP anyway so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ whatever it’s fine we’ll just use this for angst because GOD do y’all like angst

So is Shadlink

Honestly don’t know where this ship came from but it’s cute so whatever

THE MUSIC??

Love Midna’s theme and how they referenced the dark world theme from ALttP (I remember trying to learn the dark world theme on the piano and doing the Leonardo DiCaprio point meme at the little jingle I recognized from Midna’s theme)

Hyrule field theme SLAPS.

Apparently references a couple of the other over-world themes from the previous zelda games (I got this from 8-bit Music theory’s video on the over-world zelda themes, he talks about TP at around 11:40 but def recommend watching the whole video if you’re into music analysis stuff)

So there’s this bit of the Hyrule Field theme, I don’t know the official name for it but I remember seeing somewhere it being called the “at an advantage theme” since yeah, you hear it during the boss music whenever you expose their weak points. FUCKINGGG LOVE THAT. Didn’t notice it during my first playthrough, but hearing it during my second was like a little easter egg for my ears every time :)

Midna’s lament is very pretty (and fun to play on the piano)

COURAGE THEME.

I didn’t care for it too much when I started playing the game but hearing it in ZREO’s arrangement of the Hyrule Field theme literally makes me turn into a puddle of emotions. Also hearing it around and of the Ordon kids (I think it plays after Link saves Colin) AAAAAAAAAAAAA

Orchestra piece #1 and #2 HOLY SHIT???????????????? 

Literally, the first time I listened to those I just,,,, plugged in my headphones, volume 100, layed on the floor/against my desk and silently vibed. I don’t know what the hell it is, but those two just fit so well with TP?? I still avoid listening to them nowadays cause if I DO I definitely will get overwhelmed with the “god I love this game so FUCKING MUCH” kind of feels.

Wolf link sucks at singing

the first time I heard him howling Zelda’s Lullaby I lost my shit because LKSJLDKSGLKJFSKG god that was.,, Bad. Anyways, hearing him howl some of the songs from OoT was cute :)

TP STAFF ROLL??? 

VERY GOOD. IT’s like 10 minutes long and GOD do I love every single second of it. It doesn’t have the same energy as the skyward sword staff roll or the orchestra pieces but GOD does it hit good??

Nice and calm after that big exciting adventure. Maybe it would have been more fun or emotional to have a higher energy piece but it was really nice getting to sit back and watch the camera fly around Hyrule. Seeing like, the Gorons and the Zoras having a good time, the kids returning to Ordon? GOOD SHIT.

and AAAAA that end, when you hear the main Zelda theme and see Link riding off out of Faron woods on Epona… good shit. It gets you thinking, where the hell is he going? What is he doing? Off ot do more adventuring? Going to help out the resistance or something? Going to help Zelda? Or maybe he’s trying to figure out a way to restore the mirror of twilight? Whoooo knows.

hhHHHHhhh it’s just that final reminder that YES!!! YOU JUST PLAYED A ZELDA GAME. JUST ANOTHER STORY APART OF THE WHOLE EPIC OF THE ZELDA SERIES AS A WHOLE

I also want to acknowledge the instrument/samples they used for all the twili stuff.

They’re all just so unique and contrast SO well with the rest of the TP OST. LIKE FUCK!! Anytime I hear the screech from the Twilit Kargarok? Sends a shiver down my spine. I associate those sounds SO strongly with the twili realm. (Like, the same way you associate the BSHEWW VVWWMMM sounds with light sabers)

I love it so god damn much

literally any time there’s a certain sound or motif associated with something I lose my shit

Sacred grove sacred grove sacred gro-

lovely lovely lovely so much fun playing that on the piano. AND again, I did the Leonardo DiCaprio pointing meme when I heard the theme from the lost woods come in GHHHHHHHH

shoutout to TP Faron Woods for helping me study and get through all of my schoolwork

BLEGUUHHH can you tell that I really love music?

and also yea I guess TP is kinda cool too :\

IF YOU READ ALL OF THAT THANKS I GUESS

[wienerbarnes]

A Certain Romance (4/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,111

Warnings: mentions to past abusive relationship, nothing too explicit, though

A/N: some emotional bonding✨ enjoy babes

MAIN MASTERLIST | A CERTAIN ROMANCE MASTERLIST

Bucky presses the little button on the side of his phone knowing the dead battery won’t allow it to turn on. He makes his way up the stairs to your apartment - the elevator is always broken - and hopes you’re home to offer him a charger.

He was getting a few groceries in your area when his phone died, the only place where his list was kept, and had no other choice but to leave and go back later. A curse with technology; a paper list would never run out of battery, he thinks.

He knocks on your door three times and he can hear the low sizzling of something, signaling your presence inside. It takes you a minute to come to the door, though. Longer than the amount of time for you to change your clothes or turn something off, no, it seemed to him like you were waiting to see if he’d leave.

Do you have someone over? Another guy? Are you expecting someone else you don’t want to see? Is it him you don’t want to see? He thinks he’d rather you tell him to his face if that’s the case.

It’s been about a month and a half since you’ve started “dating.” The two of you have started hanging out more frequently, relying less on when Sam asks about what the two of you are doing and going more based on when you genuinely want to see each other. In a friendly manner, of course.

After he knocks a second time is when he hears a quiet shuffling on the other side approach closer and closer to the door. A lock turns and you finally open up, Bucky meeting your slightly puffy and red-tinted eyes.

“Hey.” You sighed before turning around and walking back to the kitchen.

“Hi.” He starts.

You were clearly crying. While Bucky would call the two of you good friends at this point - as well as fake lovers - he’s not sure if he’s in a position to pry about what’s wrong with you. Should he ignore it? Not bring too much attention to your obvious emotions? Bring all the attention to it and try to fix whatever the problem is?

“I, uhh, my phone died and I was in the area, so I wanted to ask if I could borrow a charger?” He starts. Maybe introducing a topic that has nothing to do with whatever is causing you to feel this way will help.

“Coffee table.” Is your curt response.

He takes the minute it takes him to plug his phone into the wall and set it on the coffee table to think of how he can go about this.

“You okay? Actually, don’t answer that - bad question. Clearly you’re not okay…” He tries, quickly shutting himself up when you sigh and slump a bit in front of the stove.

“What are you making?” He slowly walks over to where you are, a pan in front of you on one of the burners.

“Apple and brie mini sandwiches.” You say. More words, same sad tone. Still progress.

“Want me to take over and you can chill out on the couch?” He offers quietly.

“No. I - I want to keep myself busy.”

Progress.

“Okay. Anything I can do to help?”

You let out a shaky breath. His eyes focus on your face as tears gather around the rims of your eyes and you bite down on your bottom lip. A tear drops from your left eye and your hand quickly reaches to brush it away, as though Bucky didn’t already see it.

“Um, can you set up a couple of plates on the table?” You ask, voice strained.

He nods and moves towards your cupboard, setting the table up wordlessly.

The two of you remain silent as he fiddles with the napkins on the table and you finish up browning the bread of the sandwiches. He finally hears the click of the stove turning off and you bring the pan to the table, setting it on top of a piece of cork.

You serve him two sandwiches and yourself one and finally sit down next to him, letting out another sigh.

“I thought I saw my ex today at the market. And it took the entire time I was running back to my apartment in fear to remember that he’s in jail. Four states away.”

He looks over at you and realizes that the look in your eyes he thought was sadness isn't sadness at all. It’s exhaustion. A look he wore himself very often in his days of hiding, days of constantly looking over his shoulder until his worst nightmare came true and he was caught.

Paranoia is something he knows too well and it hurts him to see you suffering from it too. He remembers the brief mention of your ex from your first date together; how he beat the shit out of you. And he imagines he did a lot more than that if it means he’s in prison.

A humorless laugh falls from your lips, “And now I need groceries but I’m too tired and embarrassed to go back. The cashier probably thought I was crazy.” You pick at the crust on the bread with your fingers and Bucky gives you a small, sympathetic smile.

“Eat before it gets cold.” You tell him, picking up your own sandwich and taking a bite, Bucky doing the same after another moment of looking at you.

Gooey brie and crisp sliced apples go great with buttery, toasted french bread, Bucky learns.

“Do you want to help me clean the apartment?” You ask him as you follow him to the sink where he washes off the plates and the pan you used.

“... Your apartment is spotless.” He tells you.

“I know. I cleaned it two days ago. But I like to clean when I have bad days, and you’re already here.”

He grabs the sponge and wipes down the stove, glancing over at you.

“I’d be happy to help you clean. Where do you want me to start?”

He planned on getting his own groceries today, but found himself on his knees slipping his arm as far as it can go under your dresser. I’m going to buy her one of those adjustable Swiffers for her birthday this year, he thinks. After collecting all the dust onto the rag, he tosses it into the pile with the few other dirty rags and glances over his shoulder to look at you.

Down the hallway, you wipe down all the frames on the wall one by one. He hears sniffles every once in a while, but keeps cleaning.

“Alright, I got all the low places and all the high places for you.” He walks over to you down the hallway. “What do you have next for me?”

“Nothing, we can stop for a bit.”

He’s gotten better at reading people. Through getting closer with Sam, through therapy, through becoming a more participating citizen in society. And through getting to know you. He can read you, and he can tell you’re holding something back.

“Anything else you wanna do? Anything I can do?”

“What’s your zodiac again? You’re very caring, you know that?”

“I’m a Pisces and you're deflecting.” He steps closer to you now, eyes less puffy from when he first saw you this afternoon, but tiredness radiating through them. “Talk to me, sweetheart.” He encourages quieter.

“Can we… cuddle? For a little bit?” You ask.

This is the first time Bucky’s ever seen you look so fragile. Not on that first date where you thought he was going to stand you up or when you told him about your ex. Not when you both discussed your deepest secrets on your couch. Not even earlier when you explained why you’ve been crying today. A timorous woman stands before him, now.

“Absolutely, doll. Where, on the couch? Wherever you want.” He tells you softly, seeing a bit of tension leave your shoulders as you gently bring him to the couch to sit, as though you were expecting him to say no.

He’d always used to make fun of Steve when talking about Peggy. Always teasing him as a brother would when the lovey-dovey talk would come out. But this is the very first time he’s ever understood a single thing he was talking about.

You’ll find someone, and they’ll fit you like a puzzle piece. You’ll mold to each other perfectly, and it’ll scare the hell outta ‘ya.

He’s propped up against the arm rest, one leg straightened out on the couch and the other planted on the floor. His arms are around you as you’re sandwiched between his side and the back of your couch. Your hands rest gently along his stomach, head tucked under his chin. A knee hooks around the leg that’s straightened on the couch, the other stretched on the remaining area of the cushions.

Like a puzzle piece.

You’re warm and you’re making him feel warm, both on the inside and the outside. He feels the way he did when he first pecked Barbara Albram on the mouth in grade school. Or when he first sat on a girl’s bed in her room when he was a teenager.

He feels like he has a crush.

“Do you know what love languages are?” You ask after a few minutes of silence. You’re both warm against each other, no blanket needed in the small space. He can feel your body much more relaxed under his hands and the permanent strain in your throat has disappeared.

“No. Sounds nice.”

“It’s the way you express and experience love, either with a romantic partner, a friend, family, that sort of thing. There’s five.”

“What are they?”

“Words of affirmation, quality time, physical touch, acts of service, and gifts.”

He hums, an arm absentmindedly trailing up and down your back.

“I’m not sure what mine is.” He says, thinking back to every relationship he’s ever had, both romantic and not.

“You can be a mix of them. I think you like to express love through acts of service. You did just help me clean half the apartment. And when you told me about helping Sam and Sarah with the boat.” You mention.

“What’s yours?”

“Physical touch. But he kind of fucked that up for me, though.” You scoff.

“I used to love holding hands, hugging, kissing. Not just with him, with everyone. I felt like I had so much love to give and now I have nowhere to put it. I wish he didn’t make me like that.” You confess.

“Only you are in control of that. He’s gone. And what he did was terrible. But it’s up to you to reclaim that. If you have a lot of love you want to give, give it. There’s no one that deserves that love in return more than you. You are worthy of all the love in the world.”

He stays with you on the couch until he feels your breathing slow a bit and your body relaxes against his, small snores and heavy breaths leaving your mouth as you finally rest.

He hears a buzz on the table and is reminded of the reason he came over in the first place. He carefully reaches over to the table and is glad that he’s able to reach without moving you around too much. He presses the button on the side to see a now fully-illuminated screen and a charged battery, as well as a text from Sam.

Double date friday night. Bring ur girl. I’m picking the place

He doesn’t let himself be upset at the fact that Sam’s bound to choose a place that requires him to wear a clown suit because he’s too caught up on it being a double date.

He hasn’t been on a double date since when he shipped out for the war. And times were very different then; he was very different. He’d be nervous even if he wasn’t fake dating you and was going with a real girlfriend.

Maybe I can cancel, tell him I’m busy. You know that won’t work though! You’ll reschedule over and over and over again until Sam just shows up out of the blue with his girlfriend, even worse if it’s an occasion where you tell Sam you are with her when you’re not. Bit the bullet, Barnes, it won’t kill you.

He glances down at your sleeping face, calm expression soothing his own nerves now that he’s replied with a text confirming both of your presences.

It’s only a double date, what’s the worst that can happen?

[doyouremem8erme]

Can you tell me more about the Billion Eyes Back On You AU?

ohohoho *cracks knuckles*

so abeboy/a billion eyes back on you is the first au created for the laaauc! a bunch of general info is on the laaauc (lifetime achievement au award collection) blog, @laaauc.

basicallllllyyyy, it goes the same as canon from the main characters' point of view up until true colors. the only difference is that instead of the basement just holding the core's chamber, there's a massive underground laboratory instead. after andrias stabs marcy, she gets taken to the lab, where she undergoes several emergency surgeries and is put on stasis in the tank once she's stable.

dr. triturus treesun is the main scientist the au focuses on--a classic mad scientist, thinks-vivisection-is-ethical type. i jokingly call him an evil scientist, but he isn't actually evil, just amoral. he keeps marcy completely unconscious her whole time down in the lab, so she's not aware of any of what's going on, and doesn't suffer.

a couple times, while trying to figure out how to keep a human alive, he vivisects her under anesthesia . btw thats where the whole au came from . me and anne @commanderanne were like hey whats all the messed up looking equipment in the bg in o&y for. what were they doing down there. and anne was like what if they . peeked at her guts or something. and so we were like. what if there was unethical science? ANYWAYS she ends up waking up bc the dose was too low and is aware for a minute or so before triturus's assistant/boyfriend, dr. dismal, gets her under again.

there's also dr. laurel rue irvine-froude--my FAVE. god shes such a blorbo. she's a biomechanical engineer and knows her way around medical stuff. she actually knew marcy from before she was imprisoned in the lab--they worked on marcy's brain research project from the theme song takeover together. some of that knowledge came in handy when the king ordered her to build a helmet to let the core control marcy...

laurel starts out as following along with the actions of the lab, but grows more and more upset with the lab's practices over time. eventually, she decides that marcy needs to be saved before they hurt her any more, and seeks out the help of olivia and yunan.

of course, they're stopped by andrias and the core like in canon. as punishment for the rescue attempt, andrias forces them to start the core download immediately--without anesthetic, as had been planned. additionally, he has olivia and yunan hold marcy down for it. laurel leads marcy into the operating room where the equipment for the helmet is stored, plugs the cords into her legs and arms, and as marcy begs and cries for her to stop--laurel's last words before forcing the helmet onto marcy's head are "be brave, my child." at the same time, marcy has slipped into calling laurel "mom" as she begs her to stop. haha yea found family *starts crying*

eventually, laurel makes another, successful attempt to save marcy.

also, post canon, laurel, olivia, and yunan are all dating, and are all marcy's moms.

also bonus lore!

during one of darcy's excursions to newtopia, destroying buildings for fun with the excuse that it's testing its weapons or something like that, it encounters a young newt named wrenna adie dunwood. she's actually the "marcy cosplayer" from the theme song takeover!! darcy spares her because it remembered her from marcy's memories. her gay dads had died in the destruction of newtopia, and she flees the city on her own. she makes it all the way to wartwood after sheltering with a variety of communities of survivors and joins the resistance. olivia finds her in one of the camps of refugees in new wartwood while marcy is recovering from the events of sun digs its heels to taunt you and takes a liking to her. eventually, olivia, yunan, and laurel adopt wrenna as well as marcy. they r sisters i love them.

[spinchip]

writing prompt: zane not always being comf with repairs due to repeat trauma, and how the various ninja comfort him and help him thru it

This got out of hand, not exactrly what you asked for waughkjhm. 3000 words, post s12 ;; Mountainshipping/polyninja

Warning: Panic attacks, trauma, PTSD

In the Aftermath of Unagami, the city rejoices. People gather in the streets to reunite with those they lost, children and parents embrace, tears and laughter ring out across ninjago city like bells far into the night. Pixals own friends cheer and holler, the adrenaline riding high still, and Zane throws his arm around her shoulder and draws her close. She laughs, wrapping an arm around his back as Jay chatters on and on about what happened after the others were cubed, filling them in on every detail.

Halfway through the story she realizes Zane is much heavier than he was a moment before.

She stands a little straighter, hauling him into more of a standing position before turning to face him- worry freezes her joints. He’s not smiling like he was earlier, his face blank and vaguely confused, his eyes hazy and glazed as he slumps more and more, and now that she’s paying attention she can feel him trembling around her. Her mouth works but no sound comes out before she gets her feelings under control, reaching out to set a palm on his chest to steady him.

“Zane?” She asks quietly, paying no mind to how the conversation died at the fear in her tone.

He blinks sluggishly, turning towards her voice but his eyes are too distant to focus on her. He opens his mouth to say something, shaking his head as if he were trying to force himself to stay awake before his knees give out and he collapses, nearly taking her down with the sudden weight. She cries out his name in alarm and Wu jumps to take his other arm, lifting him up with Pixal. The others rush forward, hovering their hands uncertainly, worry sharp across their face.

Pixal pats his cheek a few times, “Zane? Can you hear me?” She can barely keep her voice level and she bites her lip when he doesn’t respond, his eyes closed and head lolling listlessly.

Jay leans down and presses the side of his face to Zanes chest, eyes searching empty air for a tense moment, “His mechanics are still running.” he confirms, hearing his internal parts working. He winces openly at a sound the others aren’t close enough to hear, “Something’s wrong. We need to get him back to the monastery.”

“What happened out here?” Cole asks, hands fluttering nervously at his side.

Pixal fills them in while they wait for the Bounty to make it to their location- Autopilot was a blessing. There’s no room for the Bounty to land in the crowded streets, so when it arrives Kai scrambles up the chain from the anchor and drops the gurney for them. In a scene almost too familiar to stomach Pixal helps Wu and Cole load Zanes unconscious form onto it, taking the same route Kai took to get on deck afterwards. Nya and Jay have already taken him into the back room and Pixal sheds her Samurai X armor without pause, sweeping her bangs off her forehead as she strides into the room.

They’ve already got his chest panel open, Nyas sleeves are rolled up to her elbows as she pushes aside wires and inspects the damage. Jay is running a diagnostic through their central computer, a thick cable plugged into Zanes head. Lloyd lingers at the door nervously, watching them work with worried eyes.

“What’s the problem?” Pixal asks, resting her hands along the bed and peering down at his chest.

Nya face looks grim, “His core’s been overloaded, it’s fried a majority of his main power lines to near ruin- but even with something like this, they should have been able to work. The Mechanics adapter shouldn’t have caused this much damage.”

“What do you mean?” Pixal finds her mouth is running dry, looking down at the scorch marks across his arms where the violent electricity had burned lines across his metal.

Jay leans over, pointing out several twisted wires, torn and broken and out of place, “His wires were already messed up.” his voice is grave, “The effect of the Mechanics portal combined with these damages? It made everything so much worse.”

“Already…?” She shakes her head, “The Never Realm.”

“We think so too. Something must have happened that he didn’t tell us about.” Nya pulls back and glances at the monitor, “He’s stable for now, his body forced him into low power mode to stop the spread of the damage. We have a lot of work to do when we get to the lab.”

She nods, turning to look at him. His face is slack in sleep, his lips slightly parted, and she realizes with a jolt this is the first time she’s actually seen him rest since he came back. He wont talk about it, about any of it, she didn’t realize he was hiding something so serious.

Jay sighs deeply, leaning onto the table with an exhausted slump to his shoulders, the excitement catching up to him all at once. Nya leans her back against the table and runs her hand over his shoulders soothingly, “Why don’t you go rest? Pixal and I can handle this.”

He nods his head slowly like he’s considering it but Pixal watched him still suddenly, his eyes narrowing. He sits up and leans over Zane’s chest, searching his wiring with increasing fervor, “We need Kai.” He says, looking up at Nya with wide eyes, “He’s- He’s freezing over.”

Pixal lunges forward, nearly knocking into Jay headfirst to look, and sure enough ice is crawling across Zanes' parts slowly, encasing each of his damaged wires in a protective layer of frozen water. If she had blood, it would have drained from her face. Nya practically jumps the table, calling her brother's name and Lloyd scrambles out of her way, each of them splitting up to pin down the fire user.

Frost spreads from his fingers where they are resting against the table, his lips are turning blue with ice, Pixal doesn’t know what to do.

“What is this?” Jay asks breathlessly, “It’s… conducting.”

She can see visible arcs of electricity flickering through the ice as it grows stronger, each chunk connecting broken wires and damaged pieces to make him whole. Their elements never responded like this, not normally, but something happened in the Never Realm and this- it must be second nature to him, to protect himself, to keep himself going.

Kai appears in the doorway half a second before Zane snaps awake.

He comes back in a blind panic, twisting on the cot and hyperventilating, crashing to the floor in his chaotic thrashing. Pixal jumps back to avoid him bowling her over, stumbling in shock. He digs blunted fingernails into his head, scratching and clawing desperately at the cable above the back of his neck until he rips it out, scrabbling against his own skin for a few hysterical seconds before he realizes that the cable is gone.

He scrambles to his hands and knees, shoving himself back until he’s squished into a corner,  “Where am i? Where am i? Where am I?” He repeats in a hysterical mantra, chest heaving, his eyes wide and unseeing. Broken ice litters the ground in little chunks, handprints from where he’d crawled away turning to slick ice across the floor, frost crawling out from where he’s huddled against the wall. He clasps his hands over his head in distress, pulling at his ears and squeezing his eyes shut tightly as if willing them to work again, whining in fear.

“Zane!” Pixal cries, hovering and unsure, “Zane, please- can you hear me?”

Jay is by her side in an instant and he puts a reassuring hand on her arm, guiding her to crouch down on his level. He turns around and waves the others off so Zane won’t be so overwhelmed, Nya herding them back, “Zane, hey, it’s Jay.” He says soothingly, “You’re in the Destiny's bounty.” He repeats this a few more times and on one of the repetitions, Zane’s eyes slowly bleed into focus.

“See? Pixal is here, you’re safe.” He tells him gently, making sure not to touch him unless Zane asks.

Zane gasps loosely, a shuddering intake of air, “What did I do?” his eyes fill with tears as he looks at Jay miserably, “What did I do?” he asks desperately, moving both hands to grasp at the cable port in his head, tugging at it hard.

Pixal connects the dots, she knew enough about the violence in the Never realm to put his fears to rest, “Nothing, Zane. You haven’t hurt anyone.” She reassured him firmly, “You were hurt, we were running a diagnostic. You’re okay.” She sneaks a glance at Jay who nods at her minutely.

“Is this the first time this has happened?” Jay prods as respectfully as he can.

Zane shakes his head, “a couple of times.” He rasps, struggling to keep his voice even, trembling all over.

“What do you need?”

It goes on like this for almost twenty minutes with Jay and Pixal talking soothingly with him, at this point the Bounty has docked at the Monastery but Zane isn’t stable enough to move without panicking. Slowly, he calms down, until he’s sitting slumped and exhausted on the infirmary floor, uncurling himself from the clenched ball he’d forced himself into. Ice still insists on clinging to his skin and crawling around the floor without his permission, but he’s not in a blind panic anymore.

The tension in Jay's shoulders has begun to relax, “Hey, you back with us?” he asks gently.

Zane looks at him through bleary, but focused, eyes, “Yes.” He says quietly, “Thank you.”

Pixal chooses to avoid the elephant in the room, glancing at Jay with an appraising eye, “You handled that well.”

He shrugs, “I get them too, Panic attacks. After Nad- after everything. Nya does the same thing for me.”

“Do you think you can get inside?” Pixal turns back to Zane.

He takes a moment to think before he nods slowly, “I-” His face pinches and he swallows roughly, “I will need help.”

He holds his hands out and she takes them, pulling him slowly to his feet. He stumbles and she finds herself catching him for the second time that day, taking his full weight as his legs refuse to hold, until he can get his feet under him again. He whines, low and almost too quiet to hear, pressing his palm against his chest and squeezing his eyes shut.

Jay takes his other arm and wraps it over his shoulder, “We just have to make it inside and you can rest again, okay?”

“Keep talking.” Zane says, opening his eyes just barely enough to see where they’re going, and Jay obliges. He runs his mouth nearly non stop as they help him get to the repair center of the garage, and with each word Zane seems to be edging back from another panic attack. He talks about nothing, but Zane nods along like he’s explaining the meaning of life.

Nya is there already, replacement wiring, tools, everything laid out in preparation for Zanes injuries. She’s got her hair pulled into a tight bun, a headband she only breaks out in emergency repairs keeping her bangs out of her face, the soldering iron warming up on the table. Jay and Pixal help Zane collapse onto the bed they have there, and Pixal helps adjust it so he’s sitting upright.

Kai appears at his side and hoists himself up to sit at his waist, the bed dipping at his presence, “Hey,” He says gently as the air is flooded with warmth, reaching over to cup Zanes cheek. He runs his thumb over Zanes cheek, ice flaking off at his gentle touch.

Zane tries to smile reassuringly, but it comes out thin and reedy, “Hello, Kai.” he leans into his boyfriend's touch, exhausted.

Jay goes to help Nya but she stops him, cupping his shaking hands, “You’ve done great, but you need to rest.” She squeezes his trembling fingers to prove her point. He wouldn’t be able to be steady.

He hesitates, but concedes her point, stepping back but hesitant to leave. Cole and Lloyd linger in the doorway before Cole nods to himself and quietly slips inside, speaking softly to Jay until the smaller man concedes and herds Lloyd out of the garage, both of them disappearing inside.

Nya motions to Pixal and the nindroid jumps into action, rounding to the other side of the bed to give Nya a hand.

“Hand me that?” She asks, motioning to a bucket in the back corner of their work station. Pixal holds it out as Nya turns to Zane, “I’m going to open up your chest panel, is that alright?”

Zane squeezes his eyes shut and Kai takes his hand reassuringly as he summons the bravery, “Do it.” He nods, and Nya unlatches it quickly.

Kai grimaces, looking at the frozen over electronics. Pixal can’t look away. It’s smart, in a pinch- it kept him running, it kept him awake and aware and alive. It does not look like a kind way to live.

Nya’s expression matches her brothers, “In order to do the repairs, I'll need to clear out the ice, Zane. I can turn you off-”

His whole body tenses, his breathing coming fast, and she acknowledges the reaction silently, “-Or I can do my best to do it while you’re awake. can you pull your powers back?”

“I don’t know.” Zane’s hands shake, his hard-won composure cracking, “I’ve been doing it for so long.”

“It’s okay, I can help.” Kai reassures him, stroking his hand soothingly, “I’m going to melt the ice now, and Nya is going to pull out the water before anything is damaged.”

“Alright.” Zane says, bracing himself.

Kai keeps one hand intertwined with Zanes and the other he holds out over his chest, pushing heat and warmth. Pixal ends up holding the bucket as Nya carefully and delicately draws the melted dropplest from his chest. Exposed wires spark and Zane jerks, his fingers digging into the sheet over the bed, gritting his teeth loud enough for pixal to hear.

He whines and Nya glances at his face with a wince, “You’re doing really well. You’re doing great, Zane.”

Cole approaches from where he’d been trying to stay out of the way, leaning over the bed and looking down at zane, “Hey, hey,” He coaxes Zane to open his eyes, blue laser-focused on Cole's face, “You’re alright, I’m right here. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” he promises, and Zane lets out a shaky breath, blinking away tears.

“Sorry.” Zane pushes out past his teeth, “I am stronger than this.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Cole tries to hide the heartbreak on his face, “You’ve been through a lot. You’re tired, you’re in pain, it’s okay if you take off your mask. We’ll be here to help you.”

Reaching out to cup his cheek and strategically angle him away from the others ministrations, Cole keeps his boyfriend's eyes on him, “I will keep you safe.” With each reassurance, Zane seems to relax more. He knows that the others wont hurt him, but the fear response is so engrained he can’t calm down. The words help.

Raw wiring greets Pixal when Nya finally sits back, the bucket sloshing and full, and Kai has to blink away tears at the usually neat mechanics looking so mangled.

Nya takes a fortifying breath and picks up the soldering iron and starts in on the thick of it. She explains each of her actions to Zane in perfect detail before she does them, each time she has to touch him she announces it, each time she has to unplug a ruined wire she warns him. He braces and flinches and whines each time, and there’s several moments Nya has to turn away to try and compose herself.

Hours of grueling work pass before Pixal realizes they’ve run out of repairs to make.

Nya leans back, and swallows deeply, rubbing at her tired eyes. She takes another moment to double check her work before she carefully closes Zanes chest panel. There’s a little cosmetic damage from the mechanics chains across his skin, but that can wait until another day, “Okay. I- I think we’re done.”

Zane exhales as if he’s been holding his breath the whole time, closing his eyes and sitting up fully, his shoulder slumped. Kai and Cole move back to give him space as he runs his hands over his face, exhausted, “Thank you.” His voice wavers. He swings his legs over the side and allows Cole to take his hand. His feet are firm when he stands on them, and he raises a hand to his chest automatically, his shoulders relaxing when there’s no aching pain.

“Zane?” Pixal says, and he turns to face her, “Why didn’t you tell us?” she prods gently, and Zanes face tightens.

“I…” he shakes his head, “I don’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to talk about it. I wanted to pretend none of it ever happened.” he gathers his courage, “When I was sent to the Never Realm, it hurt. I’ve been protecting myself ever since.”

His eyes skate over the mess of broken wires and miscellaneous gear from the repair session, “I didn't realize it was so bad.”

She thinks maybe he’s talking about more than just the physical aspect, his panic attack still at the forefront of her mind. She takes a step forward, the bed a frustrating obstacle between them, “We love you, Zane. we don’t want to see you hurt. If you ever need to talk to someone, i’m always here- or we can help you find someone else together.”

He blinks hard, staring at the floor. Kai moves closer and cups his cheek, murmuring soft words. Zane nods, “Thank you.” He says to Pixal, “I will think about it.” It’s the most promising thing they’ve gotten out of him yet. Baby steps.

The door opens, and Lloyd pops his head in cautiously. He brightens at the sight of Zane up and about, “Um,” He says, smiling, “If you guys are finished, Jay and I made dinner.”

“You did?” Zane blinks, clutching Cole's hand as they begin the trek over to the door, “I’m impressed.”

“It’s nothing fancy.” Lloyd ducks his head, and Zane assures him anything they made will be just perfect.

Pixal watches him leave and dares to hope that things will get better.

[jingabitch]

Adhesion ch.2

SUMMARY: As a new stylist for Blackpink, you need to focus on doing your job well. If only your assigned idol weren’t so distracting.

PAIRING: dom!Jennie x sub!reader

GENRE: slow burn smut, idol AU

WARNINGS: D/s relationship dynamics and negotiation, sexual tension, smut in later chapters

WORD COUNT: 7.3k

A/N: major thanks to @mingyuistall​ for helping me go over this!

series index

Even before you opened your eyes, you knew something was off. Why were you wearing a bra? And pants? You felt a little sticky all over, like you hadn’t showered last night, which you always made sure to do. And were you half-dangling off your bed?

Confused, you cracked your eyes open… and came face to face with Jennie.

Fuck. You bolted up, blinking the last of the sleep from your eyes. The two coffee mugs were still sitting on your foldout table, and Kim Jennie was… lying on your bed next to you. The light streaming in your window let you know that it was way later than your usual wakeup time too.

“Unnie…” You patted her shoulder to wake her up. When she just murmured and turned her face into the mattress, you shook her again, a little more insistently. “Unnie, wake up.” As cute as Jennie was, you had to get to work.

“Stop,” she whined. “Five more minutes.”

You rolled your eyes. You’d heard that she was a difficult person to wake up, and it seemed the rumours were true. Instead of continuing to badger her, you got up and went to the bathroom, picking up the mugs and depositing them in the sink to take care of later.

It was only when you were rinsing the soap off your body that you realized you had made a crucial mistake. Since you lived alone, you usually didn’t bring your clothes with you into the bathroom, preferring to choose your clothes and get dressed in the main area of the studio.

Shit.

Maybe it would be okay, you thought, trying to calm yourself down as you turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She’d probably still be asleep, and you could just grab your things and run back into the bathroom to get dressed.

After drying yourself off, you wrapped the towel around your body and left the bathroom…

Only to come face-to-face with Jennie, who’d turned away from the kitchen sink where she was washing the mugs to greet you. The words died on her lips as she took in your current state of undress, and the deer-in-headlights look you were giving her, your eyes wide as your hands clutched at the edge of the towel over your chest.

Unable to help herself, her eyes drifted over your body slowly as her teeth sank into her lower lip. Indecent thoughts about tearing the towel off your body and pushing you back on the bed – or against the wall – flooded her mind, rendering her speechless as she clenched her fists so hard her nails bit into her palms.

“Um…” your voice was small. You’d definitely noticed her staring at you, and you were trying your best to move past this awkward moment. “Sorry, I forgot to take my clothes with me.”

“Right…” Jennie recovered, turning back to the sink. “No problem.”

Feeling like she’d given you permission to move, you scurried across the studio to your closet, hastily picking some clothing from one of the racks before rushing back into the bathroom to get dressed.

Jennie, not daring to turn around until the sound of the bathroom door shutting echoed through your tiny apartment, braced her hands against the edge of the sink and let out the breath she’d been holding. It was definitely too early in the morning for that kind of temptation, yet she couldn’t be anything but grateful about the eyeful she’d gotten.

As she rinsed the dish soap out of the mugs and placed them on your dish rack, she couldn’t help the small smile that stole over her face. Your wide-eyed, surprised expression had been so cute, she was honestly torn between wanting to give you a cuddle and her desire to absolutely ruin you.

You re-emerged from the bathroom, now fully dressed, looking slightly sheepish and apologetic. “I’m sorry again,” you said as you crossed the apartment to your dresser, plugging your hair dryer in. “Do you want to freshen up?” you asked, looking at her in the mirror.

Jennie shook her head as she took a seat on the edge of the bed behind you. “What do you have on today?” she asked, settling in to watch you get ready. This all seemed so domestic, and she loved it.

“I have to go to the YG building for a meeting with the other stylists, and then Jiyoon-unnie wants me to follow her to some meetings with fashion houses about sponsors and stuff.” By this point, you were yelling over the sound of the hair dryer.

“Okay, I’ll drop you off on my way home then.”

You turned off the hair dryer and set it on the dresser. “You don’t have to, unnie, I don’t mind taking the subway,” you rushed to assure her, turning to face her.

“It’s fine,” she responded firmly, and that was the end of that.

You ran through your morning routine quicker than usual, since you were running late, drying your hair, putting on your makeup and then choosing accessories. Working in fashion meant you always had to look flawless, and as much as you enjoyed the primping most days, it did get a little annoying when you were in a hurry.

Standing up once you were done, you walked over to the belt rack you’d mounted on the wall and picked one, buckling it around your waist.

“Okay, let’s go,” you said, picking up your bag, and you left the apartment together.

During the drive to the YG building, conversation flowed easily, and Jennie was struck by how well you got along together -- when you weren’t a blushing, stuttering mess, that was, although she couldn’t help but enjoy that too.

She dropped you off a block away from the YG building, so that no one would see you exiting Jennie’s car. The gossip mills were ferocious at YG, and both of you had to keep your reputations squeaky clean for the sake of your respective careers.

“Thanks for the ride, unnie,” you said as you unbuckled the seat belt and picked up your bag. Just before you opened the door, however, a burst of bravery led Jennie to reach over impulsively, grabbing your sleeve.

You looked over at her questioningly and she tugged on your sleeve hard enough that you leaned over towards her, and she eagerly shifted to meet you halfway, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Bye bye,” she chirped once she’d pulled back, letting go of you.

Stunned, you left the car on autopilot, standing on the sidewalk with your hand pressed to your lips as you watched her drive away. What just happened, you wondered.

-----

Jennie had barely shut the front door behind her when Chaeyoung popped up in front of her, smirking.

“Where were you all night, unnie?” she asked, though the twinkle in her eye indicated that she was fairly sure she knew the answer.

“None of your business,” Jennie tried to brush her off as she toed off her shoes, but Chaeyoung just stepped even closer.

“Unnie, don’t be like that!” she pouted. “We just want what’s best for you.”

A slight pause. “Wait a second, ‘we’?” Jennie asked, raising a brow.

Lisa popped her head out of the corridor. “Unnie, you’re home!” she cheered. “How was Y/n-ie last night?”

The implications of her question weren’t lost on Jennie. “Nothing happened last night!” she cried, flushing pink with embarrassment.

Chaeyoung took the opportunity to zero in. “But you did spend the night at her place?”

Caught now, Jennie slumped her shoulders as she sidestepped the younger girls on her way to her own bedroom. “We were just talking and fell asleep,” she mumbled.

Chaeyoung and Lisa clutched each other as they squealed in excitement. “Unnie, that’s so cute!” They followed behind Jennie, eager for more details, but Jennie firmly shut the door behind them, ignoring their protests.

Leaning against the door, Jennie raised one hand to her mouth, pressing her fingers against her lips lightly. In the privacy of her own room, she couldn’t help the small smile that stole over her face, nor hold back the slightly breathless giggle.

----

Given how much Jennie adored that wide-eyed expression you got when she unexpectedly teased you, you really should have expected this.

Still, you thought to yourself as you braced your weight against the bathroom sink, this was surely too much. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, wide-eyed, as you tried to calm your racing heart. In just a couple of minutes, you were going to have to step back out there and do your job again, and you needed to get your shit together now.

Blowing your breath out, you pushed yourself off the sink and turned away, grabbing some paper towels from the dispenser on the wall. You were sure that Jennie hadn’t really needed all that help getting into her dress for the photo shoot, but she’d insisted, and you weren’t really in a position to say no.

Which had led to the two of you squished together in the semi-private space behind the privacy screen, which was really only big enough for one person. Jennie, dressed in only the skimpiest lingerie you could imagine – under the guise that it was all that was suitable for the clothes she had to wear for the photo shoot – stood in front of you, her hands on her hips as she told you that she couldn’t zip up her dress by herself.

Why she couldn’t have gotten into it before calling for you was a mystery to you. You wound up helping her into the dress, before she turned around so her back was to you, pulling all her hair over her shoulder and asking you to help her zip it up. It was technically your job, so you gulped and, with trembling fingers, acquiesced.

“All good,” you announced when you were done, in a voice that trembled. Jennie turned back towards you, flipping her hair back over her shoulder, and leaned in.

“Thank you,” she breathed, close enough that you could feel her warm breath ghosting across your lips.

“Unnie,” you managed to get out, keenly aware of the fact that despite the relative privacy of the corner you were sequestered in, you weren’t actually alone. On the other side of the screen were the rest of the stylists and members.

“Y/n,” she responded, leaning in even closer.

You couldn’t be blamed for what happened next, you thought, leaning against the bathroom door to delay your return to the dressing room for just a second more. You were sure everyone had noticed the way you’d bolted from the room, with a muttered excuse about needing to use the bathroom really bad.

Steeling yourself, you opened the bathroom door and left, heading back to the dressing room. You entered shyly, preparing yourself for a barrage of teasing, but to your surprise, none came. Yuuki shot you a smirk over Jisoo’s head, but the others didn’t have much of a reaction. Emboldened, you walked back to the makeup table where Jennie was sitting.

“Feel better?” she asked as you stood beside her, reaching for the primer. To anyone else, it might have looked like she was just concerned and enquiring about your wellbeing, but you knew better, seeing the half-smirk she was directing at you.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, squeezing some of the product on the plastic sticker on the back of your hand and beginning to apply it with a brush.

“Good,” Jennie murmured, her hand resting on your hip. You could feel the warmth of it through the thin fabric of the sundress you were wearing today. You looked down at her hand, and then back at her, but she just smiled sweetly at you and turned her face upwards so it was easier for you to reach, and you figured she must be done tormenting you for the day.

You finished applying her makeup and moved on to her hair, curling it slightly and fluffing it. “There,” you said when you were done, admiring her reflection in the mirror as you rearranged some pieces of her hair over her shoulders. As you looked down to meet her gaze, you found yourself getting lost in her eyes as she watched you in the mirror with a small, soft smile, so different from the smirk earlier. It made your heart skip a beat as heat rushed to your face, warmth suffusing your entire being.

“Thank you, Y/n-ie,” she said, standing up and turning to face you as she straightened her dress, which had bunched up slightly from when she was sitting. Automatically, you started fussing with her clothes, tugging it down to smooth out any wrinkles.

You bent slightly to get a better look as you ran your hands over her body to make sure it was perfect, so absorbed in your task that you didn’t realise the way Jennie had stiffened, her arms out slightly as she looked down at you. It was only when Jennie made the tiniest whimper as you smoothed your hands over the swell of her ass that you noticed how close you were to her, and the way you’d been touching her.

Startled by the noise, you jerked away from her, apologies already falling from your lips, but when you straightened your back and looked up at her, you found her with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, her eyes dark.

It was then that you realized the power you held over Jennie. She might be able to fluster you with just a look, but she was definitely not immune to you, and the knowledge filled you with confidence.

“Unnie,” you said reproachfully as you reached up to touch her bottom lip with the tips of your fingers, “You shouldn’t do that, you’ll mess up your lipstick.”

Stunned, she released her lip to gape at you, and you tutted. “Look, it’s all over the place now. It’s okay, I’ll fix it for you, unnie.” You reached past her for the lipstick on the table, but instead of grabbing a lip brush, you used your finger to reapply the product, blending it in by patting her lip softly. “There you go,” you cooed, smiling in satisfaction.

As you reached back around her to put the lipstick back, your body just a hair’s breadth away from hers, her arm wrapped around you, trapping you in that position. “Be careful,” Jennie breathed next to your ear. “Don’t make me have to punish you.”

She felt, pressed against you as she was, the shudder that ran through your entire body. You dropped the lipstick back on the table and pulled back slightly, your body sliding up against hers as you straightened up. “Unnie…” you whispered, and her head was just starting to descend towards yours when Jisoo cleared her throat loudly.

“Jennie-yah, can you help me get my phone? It’s in my bag,” Jisoo said. Her voice was like a bucket of iced water being poured over your head as you jerked away from Jennie, stunned that you’d let things get to that stage. In a room full of your colleagues, no less!

Jennie blinked, looking bereft at the sudden loss of contact, before looking around and remembering where she was. “Right…” she murmured before making her way over to the couch where all the bags had been tossed and rummaging around for Jisoo’s phone.

When she walked over to Jisoo and handed her the phone, Jisoo took it before shooting Jennie a warning look. “Keep it together,” she hissed. The two of you were being incredibly obvious, and if any of this got leaked, you would be reassigned to a different group at best, but it was more likely that you’d be fired, and Jennie would lose whatever freedoms she’d earned in the past few years.

Chastised, Jennie nodded. She knew as well as Jisoo what the stakes were; it was just that whenever she was with you, it was so hard to remember that the world outside the two of you existed. Still, she had to try harder – if not for her own sake, then for yours.

Time to find a different solution.

-------

You didn’t think you’d been so tired in your life. The members had had on-location shooting for music videos, which meant tons of travelling on your part, while carrying makeup, clothes, shoes and accessories around. On top of that, Jiyoon was busy preparing for Seoul Fashion Week, which was in a couple of months, which meant running around with and for her, and picking up all of her slack.

As if that wasn’t enough, you’d had three deadlines for articles almost back-to-back which ate up your free time. You didn’t think you’d gotten more than five hours of sleep a night all week, but as you dragged your feet up the stairs to your apartment, you rejoiced in the fact that you finally had a day off tomorrow. A real day off, one where you didn’t need to do any work.

You unlocked the front door with your thumbprint, flicking on the lights as you stepped into your apartment. It was a mess, and you knew you’d have to do some deep cleaning tomorrow, starting with the giant pile of dishes in your sink. You were hungry, but too tired to cook, and your fridge was empty, anyway.

Oh well. You figured there’d be tons of time to eat tomorrow. For now, you toed off your shoes, leaving them where they were as you stepped out of the genkan. Time for a shower, and then bed.

You were pulling your pajamas out of the dresser when your phone rang, and you hurried over to pick it up, frowning when you saw Jennie’s name on your screen.

Sighing, you swiped and put the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Hi Y/n-ie, are you hungry?”

“Um…” You pulled the phone away from your ear to look at it, then put it back. “Unnie?”

“Yeah, you looked really beat today at the shoot. Have you eaten?”

“Not yet, I just got home… I was just going to shower and go to bed.”

You could feel the frown radiating down the line. “Have you eaten?”

“Uhh, no, the fridge is empty.” You walked into your bathroom and put the toilet cover down, placing your pajamas on the lid. “It’s okay, I’ll just eat tomorrow morning.”

“Y/n, that’s not healthy. I’ll come over with some food.” Jennie’s tone brooked no argument, but you tried anyway.

“Unnie, that’s not necessary, I’m really fine—”

“Y/n, please take care of your health. I’ll worry,” Jennie said more gently, and with a sigh, you capitulated.

“Okay.”

“Great! I’ll be over in fifteen minutes,” Jennie cheered, then hung up the phone. You looked at your home screen bemusedly, then shook your head. Since you’d come to Seoul, no one had ever tried to coddle you as hard as Jennie. It made it a little weird when she was also threatening to punish you, but honestly, you were here for it.

Humming absently to their newest release – it was a real earworm, and you’d been listening to it all day on set – you got undressed and stepped in your shower. It felt so good to scrub all the dirt and sweat from your body, the warm water loosening your muscles as you worked shampoo into your hair, massaging your scalp.

By the time you emerged from the shower, wrapped in a fluffy towel you’d gotten on clearance at a department store, you felt much better. You’d taken your contacts out, put on your pajamas and were towel-drying your hair when the doorbell rang, and you wrapped the slightly damp towel around your shoulders as you went to let her in.

“Hi,” Jennie greeted, smiling at you as she came in. Her hands were full of food, and you looked on, surprised, as she placed it on your foldout table.

“Where did you get this?” you asked, helping her unwrap everything. The stew was still piping hot, so you didn’t need to put it on the stove, which you appreciated.

“The restaurant just down the road,” Jennie explained. “Come eat,” she gestured, and you sat down eagerly, taking the lid off the bowl of rice as she watched.

“Mmm,” you groaned around the spoon as you sipped some of the kimchi stew. “This is so good.” Having a hot meal after a long day really was the best, you thought as you picked up some of the eggplant side dish from a little plate next to the bowl of stew.

Jennie had gotten enough food for the both of you, but she opened her lid of rice far more leisurely, distracted by watching you. Besides, she’d eaten a couple of hours ago when she got home from the shoot, and she knew you hadn’t had anything to eat all day.

You didn’t say much, being busy stuffing your face, but Jennie didn’t mind, taking pleasure in the way you were eating. She didn’t usually get to indulge since there were so many restrictions about her appearance and weight, but you were so expressive in your joy that it felt like she was living vicariously through you.

“Thank you, unnie,” you said when you’d cleaned out your bowl of rice, dropping the spoon back into the bowl with a satisfied sigh. Jennie, who’d been eating the various vegetable side dishes while nibbling on her rice, smiled at you.

“You’re welcome,” she said softly. You were adorable, dressed in a beat-up old t-shirt from fashion school and pajama shorts, your hair damp and messy. You always looked put together at work, even on days when you weren’t really trying, and she supposed it was part of being in the fashion industry, but getting to see you looking so relaxed in your own space felt like a privilege, like something rare and special.

It also wasn’t something she was going to get to see for much longer, she thought as she caught the jaw-cracking yawn you tried to no avail to hide. You blinked sleepily at her. “Sorry, unnie,” you apologized, your voice soft.

“It’s okay,” Jennie said. “You worked hard today; you should get some sleep.” She started gathering all the dishes to take them back to the shop, and you picked up your bowl and utensils to help, but she stopped you. “Go get ready for bed,” she shooed you into the bathroom.

When you re-emerged after brushing your teeth, Jennie was all packed up, and you ran up to her. “Please, let me help,” you said, trying to take the bucket from her, but she twisted away from your grasp.

“No, I’ve got it, don’t worry,” she reassured you.

Helplessly, you walked her to the front door. “Okay, good night, unnie,” you said, clasping your hands in front of you as she put her shoes on.

“Good night, Y/n. Sleep well.” One hand let go of the handle of the bucket and came around to rest on the back of your neck, her fingers burrowing into the roots of your hair near your nape. You looked at her with wide eyes as she did that, before she pulled you closer and leaned up to press a kiss to your forehead.

Your hand came up and wrapped around her wrist, and your gaze lifted to meet hers. A breathless second later, you watched as, seemingly in slow-motion, Jennie’s lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she closed her eyes, leaning in for a kiss that you eagerly tilted your head to meet.

Her lips were pillowy soft, something you knew from touching them a couple of days ago, and she kissed you gently, almost hesitantly, like she was afraid to scare you off. Her fingers flexed against your nape, telling a completely different story, however.

Unable to keep yourself from goading her, you whispered against her lips, “I thought you were going to punish me, unnie,” referring, of course, to her threat earlier this week.

Startled, Jennie pulled back to regard you, but you just smiled up at her innocently, batting your lashes at her. “Good night, unnie,” you giggled, before releasing her wrist and stepping back.

As Jennie looked back up at your window from the street, she couldn’t help but smile, remembering the minty taste of your mouth from earlier. She’d thought that you would be shy and quiet, because that had been how you’d been before, but this new side of you, the one who talked back and thought you could take her on… it was intoxicating.

The light went out, and Jennie smiled as she turned back to her car. You were so interesting, and the more time she spent around you, the more time she wanted to spend with you. Preferably naked, and with you on your knees, that smart mouth of yours occupied with more… productive endeavors. After all, she couldn’t have you thinking she didn’t keep her promises.

-------

You were playing with fire, and you knew it.

To everyone else, everything seemed normal. You were dressed in a plain, V-neck t-shirt half-tucked into a black and white plaid miniskirt, with thigh-high suede boots. A little much for any workplace, sure, but then again, Yuuki had worn two different eyeshadow colours on each eye today, so you were in the clear.

The interesting thing about this shirt was that apart from being cut low, it was a little loose, which meant that when you bent down, the neckline gaped open. You knew that when you’d bought the shirt, of course, figuring that sacrifices had to be made for fashion, but now it hardly seemed like a hardship.

Under the shirt, you had on a floral lace bralette which was mostly sheer, and you knew it looked good. The shirt was opaque enough that no one could see your risqué choice of underwear today, but Jennie was currently getting a good look down your shirt, which had, of course, been the goal of the entire endeavor.

You were currently standing in front of her, bent over with your left hand bracing against the edge of the chair she was sitting on as you peered at her face. Completely unnecessary, of course, but you loved the expression on her face when she realized that she had an entirely unobstructed view. One that she was, based on the laser sharp focus of her gaze, enjoying.

“Unnie,” you called after a second, watching as her eyes snapped towards yours slightly guiltily. “Your makeup looks good,” you told her, before standing up and moving behind her so she could look in the mirror. “What do you think?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, sounding slightly dazed. This was new – Jennie was really into fashion and beauty, and often had tons of comments and notes on her makeup and hair, both before and after you did it. It appeared you’d broken her, and you had to bite your lip to stifle your triumphant grin.

“Unnie, are you okay?” You came back around and bent down again to look at her more closely.

“Stop it,” she hissed under her breath at you. “You know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, unnie,” you purred, leaning a little closer. Then you came up right next to her ear, and whispered, “Stop staring, unnie. People are watching. I’ll let you have a proper look later, if you like.”

Then you got up and walked away to speak to another stylist, leaving Jennie to look thoughtfully at you. She wondered if you truly knew what you were getting into with her. In the same vein, she didn’t quite know what she was getting into with you. As you grew bolder and leaned into the flirtation with her, it was getting harder to ignore the fact that what she felt towards you wasn’t the sweet, romantic desire of the novels.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There was that, and she did think about holding your hand and walking down the street together, or cooking with you in your little studio apartment, but when it came to intimacy, it was a completely different story. She almost didn’t want to examine her own feelings too closely, because she didn’t know what she would find. Was it normal to feel this way about someone? To want to pin them down, make them do exactly what she wanted?

Even thinking about it made her shift uncomfortably in her seat, and she averted her gaze from you, looking down so that no one would see the way her cheeks heated.

Though she knew she was doomed to fail, she resolved to stay away from you. For both your sake as well as hers.

--------

It worked about as well as she’d expected. That day seemed to mark a change in your attitude, as you became more overtly flirtatious. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it, but she worried, even if you didn’t, about the consequences to both your careers.

Well, that and the fact that she was still struggling with all these newfound desires. Google searches had been… well, she’d love to say she was scarred, but in reality, it appeared that she’d discovered something new about herself. Not something she’d ever thought she would be into, but, well… here it was.

Today felt like a particularly bad day, rather ironically. They were debuting their new song at Inkigayo today, and no matter how many times she did this, Jennie was always nervous.

You knew that, which was why you’d backed off today. Instead of the teasing, flirtatious demeanor that Jennie had grown to love and dread simultaneously, you were dressed normally, in a long-sleeved shirt and leggings, murmuring encouraging things at her as you helped her get ready, complimenting her outfit, her hair, her makeup.

It made Jennie want to scream in frustration. How was she supposed to keep her hands off you when you were so perfect? She watched you puttering around in the mirror, eagerly ogling you as you bent over to pick something up from the suitcase open on the floor and riffled through the racks, biting your lip in concentration.

You disappeared from the room for a second and Jennie looked down in relief, before turning to the side and seeing Jisoo smirking at her. “What?” she asked defensively, her shoulders drawing up.

“Nothing,” Jisoo drawled, but winked in a way that let Jennie know she’d noticed.

Before she could respond, you hurried back in, a sandwich in your hand. “Here,” you said, holding the sandwich out for her. “You should eat something.”

Holding the sandwich like an idiot, she stared up at you, her mouth slightly open.

You pressed your lips together to hold back a coo at how cute she looked, and patted her hair, being careful not to mess up your own hard work. “You’ll be hungry later if you don’t eat,” you cautioned.

“Right, right.” Looking down, Jennie focused on peeling the plastic wrapper off the sandwich. You smiled at her as she started eating, then turned around to respond to a question another stylist had asked.

As she nibbled on the sandwich, being careful to avoid messing up her lipstick, you turned back and smiled at her in the mirror, before going back to your conversation. There was still some time before their item, but waiting was normal at these events, and everyone was prepared for it.

At some point, you got chilly and went to put on your jacket, picking it up from the back of the couch where you’d slung it carelessly. You were zipping it up when you realized that if you were cold, Jennie, in her revealing outfit, must be freezing. Looking over your shoulder, you saw her rubbing her arms with her hands, while pressing her legs together and hooking her ankles around each other.

Really, you thought as you went to get a blanket, if revealing outfits were going to be de rigueur for idols at stage performances, the buildings should have better heating.

Standing on tiptoe, you reached up to get one from the shelf, oblivious to the way Jennie watched in the mirror as you stretched on your tiptoes.

“Here, you must be cold,” you told her as you unfolded the blanket and draped it over her lap. You leaned over, tucking the blanket under her thighs, your braid draping over your shoulder.

So focused were you on your task that Jennie’s hand wrapping itself around your wrist startled you slightly. Your eyes lingered on her long, slim fingers for a second, before your gaze flew up to meet hers. “Unnie, are you okay?” you asked, surprised by the intensity burning in her gaze.

Jennie pinned you with a scrutinizing gaze for a second, sweeping slowly over your face. Were you really not doing this on purpose? She couldn’t see any trace of the usual mischief that would brighten your eyes whenever you teased her. Even when you acted innocent, you couldn’t stop the slight smirk on your face, like you were biting back laughter. None of that was apparent today, however, and she found only sincerity as you stared back at her.

“Nothing,” she mumbled finally, releasing you. “Thank you for being so thoughtful.”

You beamed at her in response. “It was nothing, unnie.”

With that, you picked up a curling iron and started fussing with her hair some more. Jennie pretended to look at her phone, but while you weren’t paying attention, she was watching you in the mirror.

--------

This had to be their most successful Inkigayo performance yet. The song they were debuting today was about longing, that magical feeling of anticipation right before falling in love. Jennie poured all the emotions she’d been feeling all day into the performance, stealing glances whenever she could at you, standing in the wings waiting with a bottle of water and a little towel for her.

The lip bite before the hip roll that would break the Internet was completely unintentional, but the look of rapt attention and wonder on your face as you watched her performance, and the flush that stole over your face when you made eye contact with her, made her feel powerful and sexy in a way that having the adulation of millions of fans around the world couldn’t.

When the song was over, the girls went back into the wings, heading straight for their stylists, who wiped their sweat, adjusted their clothes, and fiddled with their hair. You tried to do the same with Jennie, handing her the bottle of water and reaching up to pat her face with the towel. In the months since you’d started working for her, you’d picked up quickly.

Jennie was hardly in the mood for any of that today, though. She knocked your arm away from her with one hand while carelessly pulling off the mic and earpiece with the other, dropping them in the hands of the sound support staff who approached. Once she was free of all the equipment, she grabbed your hand and started walking. The adrenaline from the performance was still rushing through her veins, and she could almost hear her own heartbeat.

Initially, you stumbled a little, confused about what was going on. “Unnie, where are we going?” you asked, almost running to keep up with her pace.

She didn’t answer, instead dragging you down corridors until she found one that was sufficiently dark and deserted.

“Unnie, are you okay?” you asked when she stopped, then turned to face you. Concerned, you reached out to press the back of your hand against her cheek, but she caught your hand in hers before you could make contact.

Her gaze was almost searing in its intensity, and seeing it, you couldn’t help but squirm a little, having a pretty good idea of what was going on now. Still, you were surprised by how forcefully she pushed you back against the wall.

“No, I’m not fucking okay,” she snarled. “Do you know what you do to me?”

And then her lips were on yours in a bruising kiss, her body pressing yours into the wall, her hands on your hips. It was glorious, everything you’d wanted for the past months, since the second you’d laid your eyes on her.

[babyspiderling]

Up To Interpretation Michael Jackson x reader

(Victory Tour)

I stand on the corner of the stage, the arena dead silent around me. I hear a radio playing softly from somewhere backstage and I sign along, closing my eyes and letting my hands dance and tell the story the singer weaves. I hear the click of hard souls on the concrete, their clacks drawing closer to me. The squeak of sneakers, or some kind of rubber soled shoe follows behind the first set. I don't stop signing through the interruption, focused on keeping up with the speed and the intent behind it. I hear both feet whispering to each other, but I don't pay them any mind. I have to be perfect for the first performance of the tour. The rubber soles squeak away as the click clack of the other pair grows closer. A hand is placed on my shoulder and I turn to the hard soled feet. I am met with one of the singers I am interpreting tonight. I concentrate on his eyes, signalling him to go on. Behind him, I see one of his brothers run up behind him, his rubber sneakers squeaking across the stage, a notebook and pen in hand. He shouts "I got what you asked for Mike!" Mr. Hard Shoes glances over his shoulder and accepts the items. Opening the book, he scribbled down on the paper. He quickly shoves the book into my hands and gestures to me to read what he had written. "Hello, my name is Michael Jackson. Who are you and what are you doing here?" His handwriting is a bit difficult to read, random capitalization's here and there, and the words scribbled quickly and carelessly. I guess I was taking too long to read the note, sneakers huffing out a "Great, not only is she deaf, but illiterate." I swallow and hand the book back to Michael, turning to sneakers. I stare him in the face as I sign. "Me not deaf. Me hearing. Me don't speak. Me sign. Me sign for you."

A/N: This is ASL Gloss, The sentence structure for ASL is a bit different than regular English. ASL is quick and to the point, since there are no signs for words like "and" "the" "or" etc. Deaf People are not cavemen, they can express the same thoughts, feelings, and ideas we can, they just do it a little differently.

His mouth drops open a little bit in confusion, his eyes locked on mine as he says to Michael, "What is she saying and why is she staring at me?" I roll my eyes and turn back to Michael. I sign "Your book, you give me? Please?" Michael gets the picture, the sign for book clueing him in. "Oh! You want my notebook? Here." He hands me the notebook and pen and I write carefully and legibly. "I'm not deaf. I'm actually hearing. I'm mute, so I sign. I'm your interpreter for the U.S leg of the tour." I hand the book back and patiently wait for him to read it. He playfully smacks sneakers upside the head, laughing out a "You idiot, she's not a crazy fan. She's our interpreter for the show! And she heard everything you said." I smile, seeing the relationship the two have.

Sneaker's eyes widen comically as he realizes how far he stuck his foot in his mouth. He walks up to me, holding out his hand for me to shake. "Sorry 'bout that. I'm Jackie. We just saw some girl standing on stage waving her hands around like a crazy person, and didn't know what to think." I shake his hand, signing book again so I can properly introduce myself. Under my previous message I write "I'm Y/N, I understand the confusion. I'm mute, meaning I can't talk, but I can hear everything just as well as you can. For some reason, the fact that I can't talk made them hire me on the spot. I was actually about to ask for the set list so I can rehearse, or at least be a little prepared for tonight." I hand the notebook to Jackie and keep the pen to myself, writing on my wrist to purchase a few notebooks myself. He nods and leads me to the backstage area, Michael following close behind. "I'll introduce you to the guys and get you the set list, alright?" I nod my head, memorizing the path since I probably won't be able to ask for directions if I got lost.

Jackie leads me to a dressing room filled with four other guys and two girls. Michael introduces me to the group, "Guys, this is Y/N, she's our interpreter for the U.S leg of the tour. Y/N, this is Jermaine, Marlon, Randy and Tito. These are our sisters La Toya and Janet." I wave to them, staying silent. Marlon says "Cool, signing even when off the clock, nice gimmick." I look back to Michael and sign "They read book." He stutters out "Oh right. Here guys, this should explain some." He takes the notebook from his pocket and tosses it to Jermaine, who then passes it around. La Toya walked up to me with this glint in her eye. "Oh! You're so pretty! If we were going anywhere else, I wouldn't do a thing, but those stage lights will completely wash you out, even the guys have to wear makeup. Can I get you ready?" I think about it, and nod. I hold up a finger, and write down. "It has to be simple. Nothing flashy. Rules of the game. No jewelry, no distracting clothes, no sparkle eye makeup. Not up to me, just comes with being an interpreter." She reads it quickly and sags her shoulders a bit. "Fine, I get it. Nothing too flashy. But I promise, we're going to have some fun." She drags me to a second dressing room, one with lit up mirrors and vanities. She sits me down and pulls out a giant makeup case. I relax my face and let her do her thing, trusting her to not go overboard. She plugs in a curling iron as she finishes up my makeup. Without any paper around, I try my best to communicate. I pull my hair back, off my face, another rule of interpreting. Luckily, La Toya got the message. "Oh! Hair back, got it." She curls my hair, completely covering it in hairspray, and gives me a beautiful bun on the top of my head, leaving the second half of my hair down. I inspect myself in the mirror, never feeling this beautiful in my life. I turn to La Toya and sign "Thank you", hoping that if she doesn't understand my hands, she can understand the look in my eyes.

I walk out into the hallways, now hustling and bustling as it gets closer to show time. I was given the set list and lyric sheet for the night while I was made over. I run the entire show at least 5 times before being called to take my place, the instructional prologue getting ready to play.

By the end of the show, my wrists and fingers ached from the fast movements to stay on pace with the band. Walking backstage, I just want to take my makeup off and stretch out my aching joints. Michael stops me in the hall and asks me, "Hey, you want to fly with us? I'd love to get to know you more, plus give you the set list for the next show to let you practice." I nod, wanting to answer his questions. He lights up. "Maybe, you can teach me some sign language? Don't get me wrong, I love writing back and forth, but it'd be cool to sign to each other" He leads me to the limo that is taking him to the hotel and then the airport in the morning. "I'm not sure where your room is, but I can have your stuff sent to mine and we can talk some. If you'd like." I shrug my shoulders, I didn't know either. He makes a quick phone call and I watch the lights move past. "Hey, Y/N, you were really cool there. It was like you were singing and dancing with your hands at the same time. Why don't you talk? If you don't mind me asking. You don't have to answer." I hold out my hand for the notebook and try my best to write on the bumpy road. "Long story. I'll tell you at the hotel, roads too rough to write it out on the way." He reads my writing and nods in understanding. "I get it." We fall into a comfortable silence as we drive to his hotel.

I follow Michael through the lobby, up the elevators and to his suite. My bags are placed in the main room, and Michael stretches his arms above his head. "Hey, Y/N, I'm going to go take a shower. If your story really is as long as you're saying, go ahead and start writing it down. I can read it while you shower." I nod and he hands me a legal pad, much better than the little hand notebook Michael carried around at all times. I sit down and start writing.

"I've been mute since I was 6 years old. My dad and I were going to the record store to listen to some and take others home to add to our collection. The light turned green, and we went, but someone else swerved into our lane, causing a head on collision. My dad died on impact, but they said he didn't feel any pain. Pieces of glass got caught in and cut my throat. I woke up in the hospital with no vocal chords, no voice. The damage done was too much for them to take and they had to be removed. I don't want your pity, I've gotten nothing but pity since I was 6. I'm not fragile and you do not need to treat me as such." I put the pen down just as Michael finished up in the bathroom. I gestured to the pad, and grabbed clothes for the shower. When I came out Michael was just staring at the paper, some areas warped with his spilled tears. He looked up at me with glossy eyes and enveloped me in his arms. "Oh, Y/N, I am so sorry. We don't have to talk about it or anything. We can just go to bed right now if you want." I shake my head. I break away reluctantly and go back to the paper. "No, it's ok. If you have any questions I will do my best to answer them." He thinks for a moment and asks, "Can you make any sounds? If you don't have vocal chords, how can you be vocal?" I hum a little tune, and make a couple of noises. We sit down, and he asks me to teach him to sign. We start with finger spelling.

"What's your favorite candy?" "(F-A-V-O-R-I-T-E C-A-N-D-Y)" "Wow! I love those! I like S-K-I-T-T-L-E-S. Oh! And P-E-A-N-U-T M-N-M-S!" I smile at him. He's a really fast learner. I yawn and glance at the clock. I sign "time" and point at the clock. He follows my finger and reads the time. "Oh wow, 1:30. We should probably get to bed. I'll take the couch and see you in the morning." I reach for the pen to protest but he snatches it before I can lay a finger on it. "No Ifs ands or buts. I'm taking the couch." I roll my eyes, signing "Silly boy" and making my way to the bed. I fall into a blissful sleep easily.

The next morning Michael and I are on our way to the plane, the next stop being Irving. We sit across from each other, Michael signing what he can, and writing what he can't. I teach him little words and phrases as we go, and specific ones at his request. Sooner than expected we touch down and make our way to the venue. The entire tour goes by in a flash, performing every night with the boys, only watching from the wings our eight shows in Canada. On our last night in LA and my last night on the job, Michael drops a bomb on everyone around the world. That this was the last show for the tour. I translated what he said for the audience, a look of complete confusion on my face. I struggled to focus on the task at hand, translating for those Deaf at the show, unable to comprehend what had just happened. The show had ended finally and it was chaos backstage. People yelling at Mike for his cancellation, calling it selfish, immature. I couldn't help but feel a little hurt. I knew that this was my last show, and that I would no longer be working with the band, but I thought he would at least tell me since I thought we were close. I pushed through the throngs of angry managers and crew members back to my little corner.

I gathered my things, coming across one of the notebooks that Michael and I had practically filled. The others full of writing were in my suitcase back at the hotel. In my heartache, I accidentally dropped the notebook, its pages falling open on impact. A page filled with shading and lines caught my attention, its place in the back making it invisible to me. Examining it closely, I realize it's an incredibly done sketch of me, done by Michael. I was asleep when he did this. I think it was on the plane to Denver. I gently closed the pages, and placed it into my bag.

I turned my gaze to the sound of the door opening, revealing none other than the artist himself. With creased eyebrows, I simply sign "Why?", not understanding why he did it a bit. He sagged, as if all the air had been let out of him. "Because, Y/N, I couldn't stand being under their thumb anymore. I couldn't work with Joseph anymore, I need to be the one in control. I want to make my own music, send my own message, without anyone telling me otherwise." I nod, understanding where he was coming from, but sad to see him go. I wiped at my tears and signed "I'll miss you Applehead." This made him chuckle and pull me in for a long, large hug. "I'll miss you too." He kissed the top of my head and took a step back. He signed "You always in my heart." something I had taught him, but fragmented. He picked up the notebook laying in the top of my bag and tore out an empty page, as well as a pen. He handed both to me. "Write down your address and I promise I will write to you practically everyday. And if I ever go on tour, I know just who I'll hire to be my interpreter." With one final tearful hug goodbye, it was time for us to go our separate ways. I would miss him, but I knew I would always be in his heart, and he in mine.

Taglist: @accio-boys​

[fencer-x]

Fencer’s Big Eva Review

Just got done watching the Eva finale, so it’s time to get out thoughts while they’re fresh! Caveat: Eva is difficult to understand for native speakers, and I’m definitely not a native speaker XD I feel like I got maybe half, and got the rough gist of like 10% of the rest, and the remaining was just no friggin’ clue. Would’ve gone better if there’d at least been JP subs, but you’ll have to deal with what I’ve got for now!

It should be obvious, but there’ll be HELLA MAJOR SPOILERS for the final Evangelion movie. Ready? Let’s go.

The movie very helpfully starts off with a ~2 min recap of the movies thus far. This was great because I didn’t have time to rewatch the previous three before going, and while I’ve seen them a few times, it took me a second the recall what had happened at the very end of Q, so I was glad to get a very brief recap.

The actual movie itself opens on...Paris! Or Paris post-Near-Third-Impact (Third Impact?), which is a red and black wasteland. It seems that Wille has been developing these things that look like Entry Plugs that they shove into the ground and restore everything to pre-all-impacts (so like, blue water and everything); couldn’t get HOW it managed that, but they had them and were attempting to restore Paris.

Would have been a walk in the park except for weird Eva-Angel-Machine hybrids that were trying to prevent them from activating the plugs. Lots of fighting happens, with Mari piloting her Eva to give them cover while the Wille staff set everything up. Eventually they manage it, and Euro Nerv is restored.

Then we switch over to right where Q left off: Asuka, Clone!Rei, and a catatonic Shinji wandering around trying to go who knows where. They eventually get picked up by...Touji! Yes, an older Touji now who lives in a commune of survivors, scraping out a semblance of a life in one of the areas protected by the aforementioned plugs (they had another name but I couldn’t get it).

In this community, Touji is the local doctor--and he’s married with a kid! He married Hikari, and they have an infant daughter named Tsubame. 

Now, let’s check in how our main three do when introduced to this relatively normal life they get to enjoy for a few weeks:

Asuka: Still in ‘fight mode’, ready to go at a moment’s notice. How she thinks she’s gonna fight when she has no Eva idk, but for this entire little bit, she’s either naked or in her plugsuit. She stays with Aida Kensuke, who’s kind of the handyman, and is generally just rude af.

Shinji: For 90% of this bit, he’s totally shut off. He’s incredibly fucked up from having JUST watched Kaworu die, essentially because of him, and Asuka has on a DSS choker, and every time he sees it, he collapses and begins vomiting violently. He stays with the Suzuharas at first but is quickly sent to stay with Asuka and Kensuke because they don’t really know how to deal with him. Kensuke manages to get him to open up a little bit, but eventually it’s Rei who gets him started on the path back to being himself. At one point he runs away and ‘lives’ alone for a while in what I think was either the building where he first met Kaworu playing the piano or one that looked a lot like it. He goes out to do odd jobs with Kensuke a lot, and on one occasion he’s taken to an ‘outdoor lab’ where some workers are experimenting with new gardening techniques. It’s here he’s meets...Kaji Ryouji. No, not that Kaji Ryouji. That Kaji DIED. This is the son he had with Misato (named after him).

Rei: Now, let me say I’ve never been super interested in Rei. I didn’t dislike her, like I did Asuka, but I wasn’t really interested in her either. She was just there. Guys.....I LOVED REI IN THIS MOVIE. I would have watched 2.5 hours of the Rei Learns To Be A Human show and been happy for the $20 I paid. Rei spends her time in the commune learning to be an individual. She stays with the Suzuharas and learns what different words mean, like “Good morning” and “Good night” and “Thank you” and “Goodbye”, she gets super close with a bunch of old ladies who essentially adopt her and teach her how to plant turnips and what a bath is, and she becomes her own person. When she first arrives, the Suzuharas think she’s “Ayanami Rei”, but she explains that she isn’t, so they call her “Sokkuri-san” instead (”Miss Spitting Image” essentially), and the old ladies find it amusing at first but then encourage her to choose her own name, and when she can’t think of one, they tell her to have someone choose one for her, so she asks the Uber-Depressed Shinji to choose one. These interactions are what eventually pull him back to himself, but ultimately he’s unable to come up with one, because “Ayanami is Ayanami”. She thanks him for trying anyway, returns his SD player to him..............................and then dissolves into a pile of LCL fluid, as apparently all clones eventually return to LCL. Fantastic, because Shinji didn’t need EVEN MORE TRAUMA.

Somehow, the above doesn’t break Shinji, and he resolves to go back to Wille and face his father I guess?? I’m not entirely clear on why (gotta go read some reports of my own I guess lol). Back on the ship with Misato et al., Shinji isn’t forced to wear a choker but he’s put in a cell with like explosives in it I guess. He starts having visions of Kaworu helping him accept things.

At this point it’s getting close to the climax, and Wille are going after Nerv/Gendo once and for all. During the final fight, Asuka tried to take out Unit 13′s core, and then she’s not managing it, she rips off her eyepatch, and we see that the patch was keeping the 9th angel bound within her eye, so she decides to throw away her humanity and let it take over to destroy Unit 13. Unfortunately, she’s killed in the end--how? She’s approached by a vision of her ‘original’. Yup, Asuka was a clone herself, like Rei, and she turns back into LCL and she and unit 02 are absorbed by Unit 13.

Eventually the fight comes down to Shinji vs. Gendo, who has thrown away his own humanity and bonded with Unit 13 in the hopes of completing the Human Instrumentality Project. He and Shinji go head to head as Shinji summons (???) Unit 01 from inside Unit 13, and there’s a really REALLY WEIRD final fight between the two that involves some weird animation choices. Lots of storyboards and overly CGI’d CGI, and some bits that seem to take them through the different incarnations of the Eva series.

We also get Gendo backstory by the boatload as he and Shinji have an actual goddamn conversation for once. Mari features prominently in Gendo’s flashbacks so she was definitely one of his classmates it seems, who introduced him to Fuyutsuki. I’m still not entirely clear on who she is/was.

However, through this conversation, Shinji gives the people he’s interacted with most closely/been closest with closure I guess? Gendo, Asuka...Kaworu.

So about Kaworu. Their conversation was VERY VERY WEIRD; it’s made clear that Shinji is also now aware of all the different iterations of their meeting. When they talk, it’s set at the beach where they first met in the TV series, and Shinji says he remembers all the times they’ve met before. Shinji mentions that Kaworu reminds him a lot of his father, and then there are some very strange flashbacks (????) of Kaworu’s that I feel like imply he’s to Gendo as Rei is to Yui. At one point, he’s seen talking to Fuyutsuki, trying to decide on a name for himself and settling on ‘Nagisa’ as it means ‘beach’, where the ocean meets the land. Fuyutsuki later addresses Kaworu, who’s sitting in Gendo’s desk, as “Commander Nagisa”. Kaworu reflects to Shinji that he failed so many times to make Shinji happy, but he’s realized now that that’s because he doesn’t know what would make Shinji happy and it was arrogant to think he knew better. He was looking for his own happiness all along.

In the end, after all these goodbyes, Shinji is left with the decision of what to do with, well, reality. He decides, in a conversation with Rei, that he’ll reset everything--create a ‘neon genesis’--to a world without Eva or Angels.

Our last shot is an older Shinji meeting his (presumed??) girlfriend Mari on a train platform. On the opposite platform waiting for their own train are Kaworu, Asuka, and Rei. Shinji and Mari hold hands and run, laughing, from the train station.

NEON GENESIS EVANGELION GOT A HAPPY ENDING. 2021 REALLY BE OUT HERE WILDING.

My final thoughts:

Okay I’ll say it: the fuck with Shinji/Mari endgame? Believe me, it was completely out of left field even in this movie. They just happened to be the only final survivors. Mari flirted a hell of a lot more with ASUKA and was distraught at her death than she did with Shinji. They were a kind of cute couple in the end, but very ????? 

I’m disappointed Shinji wasn’t the one to give Kaworu his happiness in the end, after Kaworu spent so long and so many lives and realities trying to make him happy and failing. I’m choosing to believe, since these multiple realities/resets are canon now, that he did it in one of them. They all deserve the happiness of their choosing, not just Shinji’s, and Kaworu showed us time and time again that his happiness definitively involves being with Shinji.

I’m sure I missed a lot, because yanno, Eva, and it was long enough as is, but gosh I wish I could’ve understood more of everything that was going on, cause there was SO MUCH WEIRD SHIT.

If I watch this movie again, I will 500% just be watching those “Rei learns to be human with the help of a bunch of old cackling biddies” bits :> Those were THE BEST PARTS OF THE MOVIE.

[the-decaffeinated-youth]

Brynlee

I push the eggs around on my plate. Mom walks in and looks at me. "What?" I asks. The air is tense, just as it's been since he died. I take in a deep breath and cock and eyebrow. I look down at the plate and try to concentrate on the blue color. 

"You know you could be a little nicer," she says. 

"Whatever mom," I say and push the plate away from me. I look up at her then back down at the plate that's now a couple inches away. 

"No don't whatever mom me," she says. "I know you're mad but-" her voice getting higher pitched at the end. Her name fits her perfect. Karen. 

"I'm not mad. I just want you to understand we can't just run away because dad died. But oh wait yes we can because you pulled me out of school mid way through the first semester of my senior year. So I guess we can right?"

"Brynlee," she says stepping towards me. I shake my head and walk away from her. My brown eyes swell with tears. 

"I have to go get dressed," I say. "I can't be late for my first day of school," I start walking up the stairs. I walk up to the new room I call mine for now. 

"Brynlee!" she calls again. I take the stairs two at a time trying to get away as fast as I can. 

My door opens and my "IT" poster greets me. I smile softly and close the door behind me. I change quickly and walk over to the mirror. My long red hair swoops by my face and I pull it back before looking down at my outfit. A faux fur jacket over a white halter top and ripped jeans. 

I sit down on my chair in front of my newly assembled vanity and throw on light makeup with light pink eye shadow. I pull the hair tie out of my hair and pick up my brush. A small smile plays across my lips and I stand up. 

I pick up my bag and walk downstairs. "Your car showed up last night," my mom says. I pick up my keys and continue walking. It's hard to look at her. The last place Dad was, is no longer part of my family. It's hundreds and hundreds of miles away. I hop into my car and turn on the radio, I start scanning through the stations before giving up and pulling my aux cord out and plug it into my phone. 

The song I was last playing blares out, "I Hope" I chuckle and begin singing along. "I hope you both feel the sparks by the end of the night-" I continue singing. 

I turn on the gps not completely sure where the school is, and keep my music playing. I look at the clock on my phone and realize that it's nearly eight, about ten til. I groan a bit as I take the left turn into the school's parking lot. I pull into a parking spot and hop out of the car. I walk out and snow falls softly over my head. "Shit," I say pulling my jacket closer around me. I jog a little fast to get into the building. I reach the office when the bell rings. I groan again before opening the office door. 

I step in and smile at a tall blonde boy sitting in a chair nearby. I walk up to the desk and wait quietly. The secretary sitting there asks "Can I help you?" 

"Uh yeah I'm Brynlee Thomas, I'm a transfer student. I was wondering where to get my class schedule?" I ask softly. The lady nods and smiles softly. She clicks a few buttons and the printer whirs to life. A piece of paper falls out into the tray. She picks it up and hands it to me. 

"Marcus will show you around, you have first period together," she says. The blonde guy stands up and smiles softly. 

"Hey!" he says. The boy was taller than I thought he would be. He's over six foot tall, my jaw almost drops when I see him. I walk over to him and hold out a hand. 

"Hi." I say as he shakes my hand. He nods to my schedule and I hand it to him. 

"Oh we have six out of eight classes together," he smiles softly. 

"Oh do we?'' I ask. He nods and we begin walking out of the office. I follow him close behind. 

"So Brynley how do you like Vancouver so far?" 

"Oh uh Bryn is fine, and I like it. I miss Texas though," I say. Marcus nods and sighs. I shake a little. 

"Well Bryn. I'm glad you like it," he says and walks down the third hallway down the main hall. "Cold?" he asks softly. I nod. "Well you did wear a third of a shirt," he says. 

"Oh uh yeah," I say self consciously. Does he think I'm a slut? He laughs a little.  

"I like it," Halfway down the hall he walks to a door and opens it, "Here we are," he says to me quietly. I walk in and he follows behind me. He walks up to the teacher and explains who I am. 

"Oh! Welcome Bryn! Go ahead and take a seat," Mrs. Jayson says. Marcus tilts his head and walks to his seat looking at the empty seat in front of him. I walk over to it and sit my bag down. I sigh and pull out a notebook. "Brynn have you gotten to trig in your past bridge math class?" I nod and look at her. 

"Just got to it actually,"I say quietly. She begins lecturing after telling me if I had any questions I was welcomed to stop her. 

"I can help you with your homework if you need it," Marcus leans up and whispers in my ear. I nod and lean back into the chair taking notes. 

After an hour of lecturing the bell rings and I stand up. "So next period. I don't know if he's here today. But you not being from here it may be a shock to you to see who's in our next period." I look at him as he shows me the way to our lockers. 

"Who is it?" I ask. 

He shakes his head. "I'm not gonna explain who he is. If you know who he is you'll see. You'll understand. Just promise me you'll be cool about it?" he asks. I nod and open my locker putting everything besides one notebook, my phone, and a pencil inside. 

"Promise," I say shutting my locker. He picks up his binder and shuts his locker as well. "Well lead the way." A smile plays across my light pink lips. 

"God I hope he's not here," the boy says. 

"Marcus who the fuck are you talking about? You can tell me," I say as we walk up the nearby stairs. I walk directly beside him, our hands swinging, almost touching. He shakes his head, showing his side shave. I smile softly, but hide it so that maybe he'll tell me," 

"Here we are, second period," he says opening the choir door. The room is lined with sound proofing. My jaw almost drops. The room is about three times the size my old class was. My eyes scan across the classroom. A girl with dyed pink hair, one from first period, a boy with black hair, and a boy with shoulder length curly hair. I can't make out his face. He's tall. Not as tall as Marcus but tall none the less. That's when he turns around. "He's here." 

CHAPTER 1-7 OUT NOW ON WATTPAD. @/xamandxolby

[lippskinn]

Limit to Love

Pairing: Sirius x Remus 

Rating: R 

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Angst, Medical Conditions, Starvation, Nudity

The bear-like dog trotted down a narrow road in the Yorkshire Dales. It had crossed miles of barren land and had finally reached the last stretch of the journey. Tired and hungry, it dragged itself up to the stone cottage on top of the hill. The place looked uninhabited and resembled more of a sheep shelter than a house; roof tiles were strewn across the land and the door was boarded up with planks of thick wood. As the dog reached the door, it barked, and as the door opened, a familiar face welcomed it. Once inside, the dog turned into a man.

The cottage looked slightly bigger on the inside. It had only one room with a tiny kitchen. The bathroom was separated from the rest of the space by a curtain to grant a bit of privacy. Everything was tidy yet worn; most things were held in place by duct tape, and Sirius noticed the claw and bite marks on the furniture. Remus apologized repeatedly for the state of his house, but Sirius was simply glad to have a roof above his head; anything was better than the cold cave in the Highlands.

The journey South had quite literally eaten him up. The famished human before Remus was much skinnier than the man he had hugged in the Shrieking Shack (if that was even possible). Sirius looked beyond exhausted, yet desperate to tell Remus what had happened at the Triwizard Tournament. Something about Harry, Voldemort, Mad-Eye Moody and a dead student. He had such trouble focusing, however, that none of it made sense.  

When Remus offered Sirius to sit down, he almost collapsed on the couch, stretched out his limbs, closed his eyes, heaved a sigh and fell asleep on the spot. He had mustered his last bit of energy to reach the house. Remus stroked his head and cheek and put a strand of hair back behind his ear. He watched Sirius’ chest lift and lower. The old prison uniform hung so loosely on his body that Remus could see every single rib protrude from under the tightly stretched, scaly skin covered in scabs and dirt. A whiff of dried faeces, wet dog and putrid breath surrounded him. His head fell back onto the couch’s backrest, and his mouth gaped wide open. The sounds he made reminded Remus of a dementor drawing closer; the rattling and laboured breath.

Remus figured he wouldn’t wake up anytime soon and wrapped him in a blanket for the night. He gently lifted Sirius’ arms, which were about the size of walking sticks, and tugged the blanket under them. Despite their feather-light weight, the joins were stiff, and they were difficult to move. Remus feared he would break them if he moved them too much. He tried to take off the boots as well; completely removed the laces, widened them and then carefully pulled on them as the full sole came off with it. There were no socks left. His feet were bare and covered in black blisters and lesions. Remus gagged.

He carried what was left of the boots with two fingers, threw them in a bin bag, washed his hands and face, took a deep breath, and checked on Sirius again. He looked like an old man on his deathbed; cheeks hollow, skin stretched tightly over the face, thin nose and sunken eyes.  If Remus hadn’t been notified that Sirius was going to visit, he would not have recognized him. He’d been desperate to reconnect with his best friend but felt slightly repulsed by the state of him and at the same time worried he wouldn’t make the night.

So, Remus found himself tiptoeing around him all night. Always alarmed as soon as he made a sound; checked his breath, checked his pulse, watched him closely and added as many blankets as possible. An electric jolt ripped through his intestines every time Sirius coughed and sighed in his sleep keeping him awake until the early morning hours.

That morning, Sirius woke up early with Remus still resting on his shoulder. He stretched, gave Remus a kiss on his forehead, and got up to make some tea for the pair. Finally, Remus was woken by the sound of the kettle whistling, pushed off the pile of blankets, and joined Sirius, who was reading yesterday’s newspaper, at the table. Remus had a slightly lopsided gait and slumped down on the chair as he got to the table. He gave Sirius a wry smile and thanked him as he poured a cup.

“It’s the first time you’re staying for breakfast”, he joked moving in his chair visibly in pain.

“Just ignore my groaning. It will go away eventually,” he added seeing the worried look on Sirius’ face, “did you sleep well?”

“It was the most comfortable in a long while”, Sirius smirked and eyed Remus over the edge of his cup. He made a sound like a suppressed laugh and put his cup down. Remus noticed he’d been making the same sound throughout the night. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

When Remus got the letter from Dumbledore that Sirius was on the way to his home, there was no doubt about letting him stay whatsoever. Their last meeting, a year ago, had ended abruptly and they had not had time to talk. Now, that he was Sirius was awake, Remus hoped to learn a bit more about the events.

“I was waiting for an article in the paper but all they wrote was that Cedric died in the tournament”, said Remus pointing at the paper Sirius was reading, “they dismissed it as an accident.”

“The Prophet has always been a pile of rubbish”, scoffed Sirius, “that Barnabas Cuffe has his nose so deep in Fudge’s bum, he can smell what Fudge had for breakfast.”

“I’m sure Fudge will do anything in his power to lull the public. They cannot afford to admit that Voldemort has returned. Not after they let you escape.”  

“Frankly, I couldn’t care less. Let the whole ship go down and Fudge with it,” Sirius took another sip from his mug and set it down a little too hard. Something seemed to fall shut behind Sirius’ eyes. He stared at the cup in front of him for a couple of seconds, licked his lips and then seemed to snap out of it again. “Fudge only cares about a good article in the papers. He’d never do what’s right if it gave him a bad rep.”

“Do you think it will be like last time?”

Sirius seemed to ponder his answer. He scratched his beard, took another sip from his cup, waited a long time to swallow and said, “No.”

“Did Dumbledore tell you anything?”

“He sent me here. It’s not like I’ll be much of help, anyway, is it?”

Remus felt the strong urge to hug Sirius but all that came out of his mouth was, “I think you should rest. Take a shower, eat something, sleep. Dumbledore won’t be here before midnight and he’ll be happy to know I didn’t let you starve.”

“Do you still keep the chocolate in your nightstand?”

“There’s a limit to love, “Remus got up and put his cup in the sink, “I need to go to town. You have the whole place to yourself. Enjoy yourself. Not too much.”

“This is the happiest I’ve been in years.”

Remus smiled and a distinctive crease formed on his forehead. He turned away from Sirius, breathed out and in and limped over to the wardrobe where he’d hung a suit the night before. Sirius watched him take off his pyjamas. Nothing he hadn’t seen before and yet he couldn’t help but stare. His chest was covered in pink and white scar tissue and his body looked like someone who had worked heavy, manual labour all his life.

“Since when are you wearing suits?”, asked Sirius, “I thought suits were for posh people?”

“Since I am a registered werewolf and might have lied to my landlord about a steady income.”

“Is that your business in town?”

Remus froze, dropped his pants and then swiftly pulled them up, “I’m going to the store. Do you need anything?”

“A pair of new boots. Mine magically vanished overnight.”

“What boots?”, laughed Lupin, grabbed a heavy key and opened the door, “I’ll be back soon.”

Sirius watched Remus limp down the hill to the main road. As far as he could tell, it must have been an hour on foot to the closest town. Once Remus had turned left and disappeared behind a stone wall, Sirius cleaned the kitchen table and sat down on a chair. Although he'd only just woken up, he felt overpowering tiredness and his arms felt heavy. He was torn between hunger and sleep and couldn't decide if he wanted to raid the fridge or crawl under a blanket. He stared down on his feet and picked at the remaining fabric of his socks. With one tug, the cotton crumbled and he removed the tatters. His ankles were swollen and he noticed how much his feet were hurting from the journey. Every step felt like walking on eggshells. He rubbed his legs and decided that a bath would probably be best while Remus was gone.

Sirius poured himself a scorching hot bath and steam filled the whole house. He slipped out of his prison uniform and carefully sank into the water. It was as if layers of dirt were peeling off his body and he suddenly felt feather-light. He closed his eyes, leaned back and enjoyed the warmth. Every inch of his body ached as the water turned muddy. Soon the overbearing tiredness returned, he rested his head on the edge and let himself soak in the water. Sleep had won.

The next thing he knew was a wet and frantic Remus rubbing his chest with a towel. He was lying naked on the floor in front of the bathtub, his back propped against Remus legs whose jacket was dripping wet.

"How long have you been in there? I was away for three hours."

Sirius shivered. The last thing he remembered, he'd poured himself a nice warm bath. Remus had dropped the groceries by the door when he hadn't received a reply from Sirius. He'd dragged him out of the cold bathwater by his arms and put him on the floor to check if he was still alive.

"You could have drowned!"

Remus aggressively dried the rest of Sirius' body, wrapped him in a blanket and leaned him against the tub.

"I fell asleep", murmured Sirius drowsily.

"The water is ice cold", Remus put a finger in the muddy water and then removed the strands of wet hair from Sirius' face, "you could have died." Remus pulled himself up by the tub and pulled the plug. He gave Sirius the towel to cover himself and cleaned out the remaining dirt in the tub. He then walked over to the door where he’d dropped the groceries, collected them, placed them on the kitchen table and took off his wet jacket. “I’ll make us some tea and then we’ll start another attempt at making you look presentable. You look like the last survivor of a hunger strike.”

Remus gave Sirius a hand to pull him up; the towel slipped off him, and Sirius stood naked and shivering in front of Remus. He had a nasty scar on his shoulder, which Remus immediately identified as a werewolf bite. Remus shook his head, bit his lip and said, “Sit down.” He helped Sirius sit down on the edge of the tub, took the showerhead, turned on the water and felt the temperature with his hand. “Lean back, I’ll hold you.” Remus had rolled up his sleeves not to get wet and held Sirius with one arm while rinsing his hair with his other free hand. Sirius was still shivering, he had closed his eyes and let the water run over his head. The hair was matted and brittle; steaks washed down the drain as Remus tried to untangle them.

“We might have to try some of James’ hair brews or you’ll have to let me cut it off”, suggested Remus.

“There’s a limit to love, Remus.”  

[springday-aus]

BTS’s Namjoon: Plus Two || part one

—

Fic Piece Written by: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus​

Moodboard Link: Created By Admin Grandpa

Character Pairing: Y/N and BTS’s Kim Namjoon (RM)

Other Characters: BTS [Hoseok, Taehyung, Yoongi (barista!yoongi), Seokjin - others are mentioned briefly], Hyerin (EXID), Suho (EXO OT12), Moonbyul (Mamamoo), Eric Nam, Tiffany (SNSD), Irene (Red Velvet), and Jackson (GOT7) - along with their respective group members, who are involved as planners, partakers, and guests 

Genre: romance, comedy, officer worker!Namjoon, wedding date!au, friends to lovers!au 

Type: series [two parts]

part one || part two

Word Count: approx. 21.6k

Plot Summary: getting older is never easy, especially with all the weddings Namjoon has been attending. Fortunately for him, a run in with an old friend of his, i.e. you, makes all these weddings a bit more bearable. 

⤷ Alternatively: you and Namjoon keep running into each other, ultimately becoming unofficial wedding dates. Once it’s official, a couple of things start to change... such as the old flame that Namjoon thought he put out. 

→ Inspired by: the movie called Plus One—hence the creation of Plus Two!

Warnings: lots of drinking involved and cursing 

A/N: this accidentally became a slow burn fic, considering that I stretched out Namjoon’s pining to 21k words. 

October 25th, 2019

Friday, 10AM 

Lee Corporations

—

The clicks of computer keyboards fill the dead silence of the office floor. Everyone’s buried in their own paperwork and files, concerned about finishing their workload before the work day is over. Namjoon sits in his cubicle, reorganizing his spreadsheets and double checking the numbers. It’s taking longer than he originally wanted, but then again, computer games are designed for distractions. He checks his watch. It’s only been two hours and he’s already bored. Sure, he’s got enough work, but does he really want to do it? 

No, not really. 

He rubs his eyes, which he inwardly hopes might wake him up from this nightmare. Curse him for being practical and choosing to be a business major. Had he chosen a different path, he might have turned out happier—at least, he has a stable paycheck. By the end of the day, that’s all that really matters in this lifetime. 

A chime from his phone interrupts his thoughts on his extinctial crisis. He grabs his phone from his desk counter, as he stands up from his seat. Might as well grab another cup of coffee. He heads to the break room and immediately navigates himself into the corner, where the coffee maker rests. After plugging it in, he unlocks his phone and clicks on the latest notification—an email sent to his personal inbox.

You’re invited to celebrate the union of Seo Hyerin and Yoon Jae Jung! 

Date: November 16th 

Time: 11:15am for the ceremony, 8pm for the reception

Location: Crossroads Cathedral and Sweet Dreams Event Hall 

Please RSVP at XXX-XXX-XXXX or respond to the email! We hope to see you there! 

Huh, he hadn’t heard from Hyerin for a while—last thing he remembered was that she was enjoying her job as a translator and she was in a wonderful relationship, which is now blossoming into marriage. 

Good for her.

He doesn’t mean for it to sound as sarcastic as it does. It is good for her. As one of her close friends (close enough to get her wedding invitation at least), he’s glad she’s able to find someone who wants to share her life with. 

But it’s also a reminder that Namjoon hasn’t managed to do the same. He shuts his eyes and lets out a long sigh. It’s going to be really sad that he’s going to be there without a date of some sort, while others are most likely going to be there with dates. It’ll be nice to catch up with some of his old friends, but it’s also going to be a pain to have all those pity looks and the ‘don’t worry, you’ll find someone soon’ speeches. 

By the time he realizes he’s lost himself within his thoughts once again, the coffee is reheated and his phone screen has turned black. He moves his mug and slowly pours the dark liquid in. Namjoon’s ringtone breaks the silence. The image of Hoseok’s dog, Micky, flashes on his screen with the words, Dancing King. 

“What’s up, man?” Namjoon asks, as he pours a packet of sugar into his cup. 

“Hey! How’s my favorite businessman?” 

“Hoseok, I’m the only businessman you know.” 

“No! Wonsik is also a businessman.” 

“He’s a CEO of his own music company—while there is business associated, he’s still deemed as a musician in my book.” 

There’s a bit of silence and Namjoon can practically see Hoseok’s lips pulling back in disappointment. 

“Same difference,” Hoseok says through the line. “Anyways, did you see the invitation yet?” 

“Yeah, I saw it,” Namjoon says. “I just can’t believe Hyerin is already getting married.” 

“I know. It’s almost like we’re adults or something.” 

Namjoon rolls his eyes from Hoseok’s sarcastic comment, even though he can’t see it. “Are you bringing anyone?” 

“It’s too soon to see, but I might try to find a date—it’s just another wedding.” There’s a pause, with some muffled shuffling. “If not though, would you do the honor of being my date?” 

“You know, I might just take you up on that offer.” 

“Bet,” Hoseok says. “Well, the others are starting to come back from break. I’ll talk to you later?” 

“You know where I’ll be.” 

“Only from 9 to 5.” There’s another laugh from him through the phone. “Alright, bye!” 

“Bye.” 

He sets his phone down, staring mindlessly into his coffee as he waits for the sugar to dissolve. 

Well, on the bright side, he has a date to the wedding now. That one task marked off the list. 

November 16th, 2019

Saturday, 9PM 

Hyerin’s Reception 

Sweet Dreams Event Hall 

—

“I’ve known Hyerin for such a long time,” Hani says. “And I have seen so many sides of her. Even today, she continues to reveal new sides of her that are surprising to everyone. She’s smart; she’s classy; she’s fun-loving and she’s cute. Sure, everyone here might know her as the crazy one in this group. But that craziness is part of her charm—which I’m sure Jae Jung has experienced at least once or twice by now.” 

The crowd laughs, as Hani tips her glass towards the couple. She gives another dazzling smile to them and continues. “Nevertheless, that craziness is what’s going to make life more entertaining for you. Some may say marriage doesn’t last, but I know you two will make it work. As one of Hyerin’s closest friends, I wish you two nothing more than a lifetime of happiness from one another. Congratulations, Hyerin and Jae Jung.”

There’s a light applause as Hani, the maid of honor, finishes her speech, which is followed by the taps of the guests’ champagne glasses. Hoseok and Namjoon’s glasses make a clink against the other, before they respectively clink their glasses with the other guests at their table. 

“Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

“Cheers.”

After taking a sip, Namjoon turns his attention back to his plate, which is cleared of food. 

“Hey,” he says with a nudge to Hoseok. “When did they say they were gonna cut the cake?” 

“I think they’re gonna cut it after a couple more courses.” 

“I’m so full.” Namjoon lightly pats his stomach. “I knew there was gonna be a lot of food, but I didn’t know it was going to be this much.” 

Hoseok lets out a laugh. “Hyerin’s got a bottomless pit for a stomach—you should have known she was going to have a lot of food.” 

Namjoon laughs with him. “Oh my God. How could I forget the buffet incident?”

Their conversation is interrupted by some feedback from the speakers. The crowd’s attention is turned back to the main table, where Hyerin stands with the microphone in hand and her new husband, Jae Jung, is trying to fix the veil that was caught on the back of her dress. 

“Hello everyone! Thank you so much for coming and joining us for this evening. Also, if we could give another hand to Hani for helping me arrange the whole thing—she really is the best. This night has been the most incredible.” There’s some more applause and, at the end of the main table, Hani stands once more with a smile and bows to the guest tables. 

Hyerin continues to talk once it dies down. “Um, we’re still coming around to the tables to properly greet and thank everyone for their support and gifts. The cake will be cut soon, but we still have two more courses left. Also, the bar remains open, if any adults need some more alcohol.” There’s a light laugh—Hoseok and Namjoon exchange looks of agreement to hit the bar after the meal. 

“And after the cake is cut, everyone is welcome to the dance floor.” She hands the mic to Jae Jung. 

“Hyerin and I will have our first dance and, after that, the party can officially start.” A guy in the back shouts a ‘woo’ and there’s scattered laughter. “Anyways, thank you again for coming in support of Hyerin and I. We hope you have a good time tonight.” 

There’s more applause and the couple resume to make their rounds to each table. The informal conversations begin once again as the guests wait for the next course to be served. Namjoon turns his attention back to Hoseok, who’s already engaged in conversation with a couple of people at the table. 

“So, how do you know the couple?” Minhyuk asks. 

“Ah, Hyerin and I went to the same dance academy,” Hoseok says. “We’ve been friends for, like, 10 years now. We all still talk so…” He gives a light shrug with an eased smile. 

Minhyuk looks over at Namjoon unexpectedly, who freezes for a bit from the eye contact, before answering. “Oh, I met Hyerin through Hoseok actually,” he says. “We had a couple of classes together and were in a couple of study groups together in college and…” He pauses. “Here we are. How do you know her?” 

“I was friends with her back in high school,” Minhyuk says. “A lot of people thought we were dating, so it’s a whole inside joke between us—especially since I got invited to her wedding.” 

“That’s funny,” Namjoon says. “But, wow. You kept in contact after high school?” 

“Yeah, thanks to the creation of cell phones and, as you already know.” He pauses. “Hyerin is very sociable, so it’d be hard to not keep contact.” 

“Speaking of which,” Hoseok says. “There’s a lot of people here. Their guest list is huge.” 

“I have a feeling there’s more of Hyerin’s friends than Jae Jung,” Namjoon says with a small laugh. 

“I’d place my bet on that,” Minhyuk says. His attention is diverted towards the servers that were coming out to serve the fifth course, making more conversation with the others at the table. 

“That’s a safe bet,” Hoseok says to Namjoon. “I’ve seen nearly everyone from dance camp.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” Hoseok takes another look around. “I saw Hyemi as we were coming in and Sanghyuk is just a couple of tables away.” He pokes his head up, sitting up straighter to get a more clear look around. “I should catch up with him in a bit.” 

“Maybe you two can meet on the dance floor,” Namjoon says with a laugh. “That’d be an interesting scene.” 

“Well, there is an open bar.” 

Namjoon can only give Hoseok a warning look, to which he gets a mischievous one in return. He can only sigh in response, but he can’t help to chuckle. He’s known Hoseok for so long that he knows he can’t stop one of his shenanigans. 

He resumes his attention back to his plate, where a small scoop of brightly colored sorbet sits in a little bowl. 

“It’s cute,” Hoseok says. “We get ice cream before the cake.” He does a little dance with his shoulders, beaming with his pearly whites. 

“First of all,” Namjoon says. “I think you’ve had enough sugar. I’m afraid of what’ll happen once the alcohol starts to take effect as well. Secondly, it’s sorbet and it’s supposed to refresh your palate.” 

“Ah, Namjoon,” Hyerin says. “Smart as always.” The entire table centers their focus on the newlyweds, who’ve approached them from behind. Light cheers erupt from the other guests and Namjoon gives her a big, toothy grin. 

“I was just wondering when you two were gonna get to our table,” Il Woo says from across the table. 

Hyerin laughs. “I’m trying my best to get to all the tables, but, in hindsight, we do have too many friends.” 

“To be honest,” Jae Jung says. “We had to cut down the list, like, twice.” 

“Finding a venue to fit everyone was easier than cutting down the list. Who knew?” Hyerin makes a face, which Hoseok responds to with one of his. The two start to go around the table, individually catching up with others and filling the guest’s glasses as they chat—eventually getting to Hoseok and Namjoon. 

“Are you two finally dating?” Hyerin teases.

“As much as I like Hoseok,” Namjoon says. “Seokjin is more of my type.” He looks over at Hoseok, who pouts. 

Hoseok turns away with bitterness. “That’s fine, I like Yoongi better anyways.” 

“It’s nice to see that you two haven’t changed,” Hyerin says. “Thank you for coming—the both of you.” 

“It’s no problem,” Hoseok says. “We’re your friends.” 

“We’re here to support you.” Namjoon says. 

“You two are just as sweet as I remember,” she says with a bright smile. She taps her glass with theirs. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

Hoseok and Namjoon take their respective sips, while Hyerin drowns hers down. 

“Damn,” Hoseok says. “Your tolerance hasn’t changed since college.” 

“We’ll see with how tonight goes,” Hyerin says. “I think the others’ have lowered, so watch out when they all head to the bar.” 

“You mean like now?” Namjoon asks. 

“What?”

Namjoon points a finger towards the wall where glass shelves hold many colorful bottles of wine, liquor, and juices to mix with the alcohol. A bartender mixes the drinks to the best of her abilities to fill the four glasses set on the counter. Hyerin’s bridesmaids lean on the countertop, shouting “shots” repeatedly. 

“Oh dear God,” Hyerin says. She shuffles with her dress, grabbing as much of it as she can, and attempts to run over towards them. “Y’all!! Couldn’t you have waited until the elders left!?! Wait for me!” 

Jae Jung hurriedly follows after her. “Honey! Be careful with the dress, you could trip!” 

After they ran off, Hoseok and Namjoon could no longer hold in their laughter. 

“That’s one way to exit a conversation,” Namjoon says with another sip of his champagne. “They really haven’t changed since college.” He lets out another laugh. “Who else do you think is here?” 

“Honestly, knowing Hyerin,” Hoseok says. “I have no clue.” 

They get back to their plates and converse with the others at the table. Hyerin has made many friends after graduating, Namjoon notes. Then again, she’s always been very friendly with others, which is how Namjoon was able to easily get along with her. 

As the conversations go, the last course, along with the cake, is served and the dance floor is officially open. Once 10pm hit, Hyerin and Jae Jung led their first dance. Everyone slowly started to join in and then the songs were transitioning to a faster pace, in which the elderly started to take their leave. Good timing too because the alcohol started to set in and no one had any resistance left. 

Hoseok has officially abandoned Namjoon to steal the leftover party favors on empty tables (at this point, he’s openly stealing rather than sneaking them into his pockets). Namjoon remains at the, now, empty table and empty plate—observing the other guests who have made a home for themselves on the dance floor. 

Hyojin’s alcohol tolerance is officially met as she twerks on the dance floor. Hyerin and Hoseok’s dance friends, Hyemi and Sanghyuk, have officially engaged in a full-fledged dance battle. Meanwhile, one of the bridesmaids, Solji, has another, Junghwa, on one arm to pull her away from any physical object she could flirt with (to which Namjoon has been a victim) and, in the other arm, she holds a svedka bottle that’s already half empty. In another corner, from Namjoon’s table, Minhyuk has helped himself to the rest of the uncut cake with a serving spoon. 

Amidst the chaos, Namjoon stays at the table, taking in the atmosphere with the disco lights and fast-paced radio hip-hop songs. He nods along with the music, mouthing along with the lyrics. As much as he would love to join the others, he knows he would most likely break something of his, or someone else’s. 

He checks his watch and glances around, wondering as to how far Hoseok had gotten with the party favors. Just as he was about to start his search, Rihanna’s Umbrella starts to play and that’s when he hears Hoseok before he can see him. 

“BITCH! THIS IS MY JAM!” 

Namjoon has to close his eyes from embarrassment of being his date, but then something saves him. 

“BITCH, ME TOO. MOVE!” 

“HANNA AND (Y/N) IN THE BUILDING, EH EH EH.” 

Well, nevermind. 

The crowd parts like the red sea, allowing Hoseok and two familiar looking figures to meet in the middle—each person nodding along to the melody and waving their arms in the air. As if it was a karaoke meet, everyone sings aloud, along to the music. 

“You have my heart. And we’ll never be worlds apart. Maybe in magazines… but you’ll still be my star…” 

 Namjoon smiles at the sight. Hoseok and Hanna are doing their own thing, ignoring the little bags that fall out from Hoseok’s pockets that were, technically, stolen from the other tables. You blend into the crowd, swaying to the melody with Hani on one arm. 

“Because~ When the sun shines, we shine together. Told you I’ll be here forever. Said I’ll always be your friend. Took an oath, Imma stick it out to the end. Now that it's raining more than ever, know that we’ll have each other. You can stand under my umbrella… You can stand under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh…”

Namjoon makes eye contact with you. Your eyes widen, surprised from seeing him. With your free arm, you wave him over—to which he can only shake his head, passing up the opportunity of embarrassing himself in front of his old college friends. 

You pull yourself away from the crowd and head towards his direction, eventually taking the empty seat next to him. Without a word, you reach over and grab a champagne glass from the other side, drowning it down in one shot. 

“Ahh,” you breathe out. You point to his glass and the remaining alcohol that glistens from the disco lights. Without another word, Namjoon hands it over to you. He can only watch, as you drown down that glass as well. 

“Well,” he says. “It’s nice to see you too, (Y/N).” 

“Sorry,” you say. “That glass looked too appealing.” 

He lets out another light laugh with a shake of his head. “Seriously though, it’s nice to see you.” 

You hum. “How long has it been? Couple of years?” 

“Yeah, it’s been a bit of time,” Namjoon says. “Glad to see you haven’t changed too much.”

“Glad to see you haven’t either.” You pause, looking back at his, now empty, glass. “Still have a low tolerance?” 

“You already know the answer to that, so why bother asking?” 

“Just ‘cause it’s fun to hear you admit you’re a little baby when it comes to drinking.”

“Ugh, this is just because you were able to build a tolerance from all that bar hopping.” 

“We both did that bar hop.” You scan him with a glint in your eyes. “Something clearly went something wrong.” 

You both laugh. With another nudge towards him, you speak up again. “How’ve you been? Still working at the office?” 

“Yeah, I’m officially a manager.” He rubs the back of his neck. 

“You still making music?” 

“Every now and then,” he says. “Whenever I get the time, I do.” 

You let out a little laugh, grabbing another glass of champagne. “I remember all those tracks you made. Shame that your mixtape never released.” 

“Oh my God.” Namjoon has to close his eyes. “Please never bring that up again.” 

“Why not? They were great.” You take a sip of the glass. “I still have your Soundcloud page bookmarked.” 

Namjoon rubs his face with his face becoming more and more flushed, but he can’t hide his growing smile. “Oh my God, (Y/N).” 

You give him another teasing one in return. “Remember when you used to try to promote yourself on the quad—” 

“Oh my God, (Y/N)—”

You let out another laugh from his red face. Namjoon shuffles his feet and his eyes dart around, trying to find a drink for his, suddenly, dry throat. As if you read his mind, you tip your glass towards him—offering him the rest of your drink. He takes it and takes a small sip, clearing his throat afterwards.

“Anyways,” Namjoon says. “What have you been up to?” 

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.” You pause. “You act like you didn’t like my Instagram post two nights ago. You also DM me memes, dude.” 

“Yeah, but that’s different from actually talking to you and catching up.” Namjoon rests a hand on his chest, in mock-hurt. “I’ve been sending those since college and you still don’t appreciate them?”

You roll your eyes but it’s with no malice. “For your information, more is not less. Less is less.”

“Is this your way of telling me to lessen the meme content in our messaging?” 

“Yes.” 

“Damn, that’s harsh.” 

You let out another laugh as he pouts in his seat. “Sorry, Joonie.” 

Your conversation is interrupted, as Hyemi shouts your name from across the room. “(Y/N)! I’M PUTTING ON BRITTNEY, BITCH.” 

“AYY!” You immediately get up from your seat, dancing your way over back to the dance floor. As Hyemi pulls you away, you look back towards Namjoon and give him a little finger wave. “I’ll see you sometime, okay?” 

He smiles back with a small nod, just quick enough for you to see, before you get pulled into the crowd once again. 

December 3nd, 2019

Tuesday, 6PM 

Shoreside Condos

—

Another chime comes from Namjoon’s email. He continuously types, re-organizing and triple checking the calculations of his spreadsheets. 

He sits on the couch with multiple sheets of paper which lay on the unoccupied space of the table and couch, in some type of clean mess. In the background, his flat screen plays a film from some movie channel that he stopped paying attention to a while ago. His only company, Rapmon, lays on the carpet near Namjoon’s feet—practically blending himself into the white, soft texture. The keyboard clicks continue for a couple more minutes, before he decides to check his email. 

Hello Mr. Kim, 

How are you this evening? I am sending this email to let you know there are some adjustments that need to be made to the reports. Below, I have some attachments for you to check. 

Please let me know once they are completed. Have a good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. 

Sincerely, 

Bang Sihyuk 

-- 

Head Manager of the Big Hit Management Team 

Lee Corporations 

Namjoon lets out a sigh. Guess it’s more work for him. Jokes on Bang though—he didn’t give him a deadline. Loopholes are a wonderful thing. 

He shuffles with the papers on the table, trying to find the remote. Once it’s spotted, he lowers the volume. He looks at the overall mess, ultimately deciding it’s better to clean it up, somewhat. As he pushes some of them back into their manila folders, he hears a whine. 

With a scratch behind Rapmon’s ears, Namjoon gives him a little kiss. “You hungry, baby?” Namjoon gives a small smile, as Rapmon pants. “I’ll get some food for my good boy.” 

He lifts himself from the sofa, already abandoning his clean-up attempt. Rapmon bounces alongside with him and they head into the kitchen area. Opening one of the lower cabinets, he easily pulls out the dog food and puts it into the doggy bowl.

Leaning on the countertop, he looks down adoringly at his pupper. “I should probably get something to eat too.” He pats his stomach. “It’s been empty.” 

He pushes himself off and shuffles over to the refrigerator. However, a white card, decorated with lace, catches his attention. He sighs, plucking the card off the refrigerator magnet. 

Join us for the union of Minyoung and Junmyeon! 

January 11th, 2020 @ 5PM

Location: Sowon Temple 

—

Black tie dress. 

Reception to follow! 

See you there! 

Namjoon lets out another sigh, but from the migraine that formed. He’s gonna have to text Taehyung—maybe they can go wedding gift shopping together. Considering how much Taehyung spends, Namjoon is sure to balance out that…. Taehyung-ness. 

He grabs out his phone, sliding it open to his messages. 

Namjoon: yo, did you get a present for Junmyeon yet? 

The reply is nearly instant and comes all at once. 

Tata: oh shit 

Tata: i forgot 

Tata: shall we go shopping soon ? 

Namjoon: you read my mind 

Tata: it’s like we’re soulmates 

Tata: :) 

Namjoon: …. okay 

Tata: i love you :*

Namjoon: and you have now made it weird 

Namjoon: but ily too 

Tata: i’m screenshotting this for the groupchat

Namjoon: and goodbye

He shakes his head, silently laughing at Taehyung’s responses. He’ll make those plans later, once he’s got some more time. It’ll be fun to spend some more time with Tae. It’s been a couple of weeks since they’d hung out. While their time at the ice rink was fun, they spent more time struggling than skating together (well, at least Taehyung was the one struggling). 

But, right now, he’s got more work dumped on him. And he’s hungry. 

Rapmon looks up at him as Namjoon looks down at him. “Don’t look at me like that.” Namjoon opens the fridge without breaking eye contact. “This is for me. You got your bowl, buddy.”

January 11th, 2020 

Saturday, 7PM 

Junmyeon’s Reception 

Enchanted Evenings Restaurant 

—

“Although I am the oldest of our group,” Minseok says. “Junmyeon has taken care of me ever since I became friends with him. I’m sure that everyone in this room, who knows Junmyeon, knows that he has this thing where he cares more for others rather than himself. He’s the mother figure that everyone wants in their lives and we were lucky enough to have him as ours. But now, he’ll finally have someone to care for him this time around, for the rest of his life.” 

He turns to the main table and raises his glass. “I would like to dedicate this toast to Mi Young, on behalf of the exo boys. Thank you for putting up with all of us.” The crowd chuckles. “ And congratulations to the both of you, for finding someone who will faithfully look after you no matter what. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

“Cheers.” 

Everyone respectfully clicks their glasses together, taking a sip and going back to their meals and their own little conversations. Namjoon looks up from his glass, seeing Taehyung across the table—chatting away with the other guests. Tae fits well with the others, despite looking out of place in his patterned suit (“It’s Gucci. I have taste,” Taehyung said, when he was picking up Namjoon).

Namjoon glances to the right… where you are seated. You happily drown your glass down, letting out an exhale from the refresher. 

You turn to him. “Do you think I’m allowed to drink more?” you ask. 

“(Y/N),” Namjoon says. “I think it’s better for everyone if you didn’t drink more.” 

You pout. 

Namjoon tries not to stare. 

“You, my friend,” you say with a point of your finger, poking his chest. “Need to loosen up.” You shake your empty glass at him. “What better way than with alcohol?” 

“Have you become an alcoholic? Is that what this is?” 

“Haha, oh so funny as always, Joonie.” 

“You know I try,” he says with a grin. 

He sets down the glass, turning his attention back to his plate—on it lies a pile of chopped lobster topped with little scraps of gold, which is paired with fresh caviar and foie gras sauce on the side. Everything looks so good that it practically glistens in the chandelier light coming from above the table. 

While there are many guests, the venue is actually very spacious. Each table has a good amount of space that the chairs don’t bump into one another when pushed out. And yet, there’s still a large amount of space dedicated to a multicolored dance floor (which has Baekhyun and Jongin written all over it, Namjoon notes). 

Even without the tables, anyone could tell it’s decorated tastefully. Above each table, there’s various lights that provide a nice atmosphere for the guests. The ceiling itself is painted plain white, but if anyone looks close enough there’s little specks of gold that shine against the light. In contrast to the ceiling, the walls were covered with wallpaper. The wallpaper is also white with gold accents, but there are also pearls that popped out of the walls—quite literally popped out. The kids who came with their parents have been feeling up the wall for the past hour or two. 

Namjoon knew the wedding would be boujee, since it is Junmyeon’s, but he’d almost forgotten about how loaded Junmyeon’s family actually is. 

“Who knew my most expensive meal would come from a wedding?” Go Eun says, from your other side. You let out a laugh. “It’s the Kim family, what more did you expect?” 

“I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe something corny.” 

“Honey, we’re past corny when we walked through those balloon arches.” 

Go Eun blinks, slowly nodding along as she comes to the realization. “Ah, I guess I never got over the whole senior-junior view I had of him in school.” 

“He’s got that vibe; he seems like a chill mentor.” 

“But realistically speaking,” Namjoon pitches in. “We know that’s far from the truth.”

“Considering how he dances to any Sistar song like (Y/N) to Hit Me Baby One More Time,” Go Eun pauses. “I think all of the guests here know that.” 

“Damn,” you say. “You really had to attack me like that, huh?” 

She gives you an innocent smile that feels not-so-innocent. “Hyerin’s reception videos circulated. What else was I supposed to do with their information?” 

You give her a teasing one in return, before returning to your plate once more. 

There’s a moment of silence at the table as everyone is starting to dive into their meals, except for the silverware that taps the plates and bowls. As the plates start to get cleared, the chatter picks up once more—especially as the newlywed couple makes their way around with Junmyeon holding the train of Minyoung’s dress. Taehyung stirs up the commotion as he sees them making their way over. 

“Here comes the lucky couple!” 

From the sudden, informal announcement, everyone cheers with their glasses—both empty and full—for the newlyweds. 

Junmyeon tucks a strand of Minyoung’s hair back with one hand and, with the other, he holds a glass filled with champagne that’s already lost its bubbles. “Thank you for coming, everyone. We really appreciate your presence here.” 

“It’s no problem,” Namjoon says. “We’re glad to be here.”

“We hope you like our presents!” Taehyung practically yells. “If you don’t, then deal with it because we lost the receipts.” He gives them one of his boxy smiles. 

Everyone gives a light-hearted laugh at Junmyeon’s face. 

“Is everyone okay?” Minyoung asks. She stands behind you and Namjoon, laying a hand on your shoulder. “Is the food good?” 

“Minyoung, this one plate is about the equivalent of my first year tuition,” Yeri says, looking at her. “The food is more than just good.” 

“Don’t worry,” you say, giving Minyoung’s hand a pat. “Everything is great.” 

She lets out an exhale. “I was just a bit concerned because Junmyeon decided the meals without me.” 

“Honey,” Junmyeon says. “The meals turned out great. (Y/N) agrees.” He turns to the rest of the table. “You guys are going to love the dessert.” 

“What’s for dessert?” Yunho asks, from one side of the table. 

“It’s a Golden Opulence Sundae,” Junmyeon says with a beam. 

“It’s got edible diamonds and a sugar forged orchid,” Namjoon whispers to you. “It was super trendy a couple of years ago, but it doesn’t mean the price went down.” 

Your eyes widen. “Goddamn,” you mouth to him. 

“Yeah, he went a bit overboard,” Namjoon says. 

Junmyeon pouts at Namjoon’s words and Minyoung pinches his cheek. Minho makes a gagging noise and Yunho has to hit him to get him to stop. 

“Anyways,” Minyoung says, pouring another glass for you and Namjoon. “Let’s enjoy the evening with a drink—cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

Around the table, everyone respectively tap their glasses against one another—Namjoon with you and Minho, you with Namjoon and Go Eun. 

“We would love to stay, but we need to get to the other guests,” Junmyeon says. 

“But,” Minyoung says. “Stay as long as you would like. Desert is coming and the cake will be cut soon after. So, please enjoy yourselves—at the table, on the dance floor, the pool out back—” 

“There’s a pool?” Heechul asks from the other side of the table. 

“Yeah, the doors will officially be open after thirty minutes or so,” Minyoung says. “Anyways, mingle and have fun. We’ll be around.”

“Enjoy yourselves, okay?” Junmyeon says with another smile. With his hand on her lower back, he guides her towards the other table behind yours. 

“They’re so cute,” you say with a pout. “I’m glad to see Minyoung with someone good for her.” 

“Same,” Namjoon says. “I haven’t seen Junmyeon this happy since…” He tries to think. 

“Since Sehun paid that one time for dinner?” 

Namjoon’s eyes light up. “Yeah!” He takes another sip of his glass. “I almost forgot about that.” 

“I couldn’t,” you say. “You don’t ever forget it if Sehun pulls out his wallet for you.” 

“Yeah, he only pulls out his wallet for Vivi,” Namjoon notes. “Big mood though.” 

You laugh. 

Everyone gets back to their plates, which now has the dessert and the reception goes on. The conversation flows, between all the guests—at their assigned tables, along with the other tables. Siwon visited Namjoon’s table on many occasions, just because of Yunho and Minho’s seats. Although, Namjoon will admit that their conversations are very impressive (many topics related around politics and social injustices in modern society, which was very impressive to be honest). 

The time continues to pass, but it’s hard to tell with all the conversation going on. While Namjoon is more introverted, he has been very engaged in many conversations with others—especially with you. It had only been about a year or two since you two had actually talked, caught up and all that good stuff. 

You two originally met in college, in one of your classes together—after all, the study group that suffers together, stays together. While Namjoon majored in business, you had actually studied what you wanted. Your drive and extrovertedness balanced with Namjoon’s realism and introvertedness, which created, what you believe to be, an iconic duo on campus (at least with your friends). 

While it is inevitable for people to lose touch after college, you were easily able to keep the connections. With the help of social media, you reached out and managed to keep contact with your close knit group of friends—including Namjoon and many others from college (and probably high school). 

Unfortunately for Namjoon, this also means reminders of the uni days—both good and bad (as previously mentioned: the mixtape promos on the quad)... 

“Expensive Girl was a fucking bop and you know it,” you say, scooping another spoonful of your ice cream. “What did you do with all of those CDs anyways?” 

Namjoon groans, wiping his face as if it’ll get rid of the embarrassment from the olden days. “Honestly, they’re probably in a box somewhere and collecting dust.” 

“Come on,” you say. “You have to admit that those songs were actually really impressive.” You smile at him. “You were really creative. What happened?” 

He sighs, setting down his, now empty, wine glass. “Nothing happened, (Y/N).” He pauses. “Real life just got into the way and… next thing I knew, I stopped making songs.” 

The look in your eyes softens. “Namjoon, you’re one of the most creative people I know,” you say. You lay a hand on his that rests on the table. 

His eyes land on yours. You continue. “You should do what you enjoy, while balancing out the realistic picture.” Your other hand pokes his chest once more. “You, of all people, should know that. Remember what happened sophomore year?” 

Ah, sophomore year. From what Namjoon remembers, you originally came into college undecided. It wasn’t until the beginning of sophomore year that you figured out what you wanted to do. (“Seeing you so driven about your music makes me more driven towards what I want to do,” you said to him. “Even if I suffer to the destination, my happiness afterwards is the most important to me and my future.”)  

Namjoon sighs once more, but it’s more of frustration towards himself rather than exhaustion. He can only say one thing. “Being an adult is hard.” 

You laugh at his statement—your hand unmoving from his, another thing Namjoon tries not to focus on, but he can’t because of the warmth of your hand. Yes, while the two of you are friends, if he said he never had non-platonic feelings for you would definitely be a lie. 

The tap of the mic interrupts his thoughts and the conversations start to simmer down once more. In the front, Junmyeon and Minyoung stand side by side. Minyoung is in a different wedding dress but it’s been shortened and paired with some white flats. Junmyeon’s jacket has been removed and his tie is loosened. 

“Hello?” Minyoung says. “Can everyone hear me?” Her smile grows, as she meets everyone’s eyes and nods. “While people have been able to enter the pool area, it’s officially been thirty minutes since dessert was served.”

“With that,” Junmyeon says. “The pool is officially open, along with the dance floor. We’re allowing song requests, along with karaoke mics. So, go wild.” 

“YEAH!” Chanyeol, Baekhyun and Jongdae simultaneously shout. 

Junmyeon immediately retracts his statement. “Not too wild!” Despite that warning, everyone knows it’s already too late. 

Jongin, Taemin, and Ten are the first ones to enter the dance floor as the music starts. Everyone easily joins in to circle around them and chaos starts to ensue, making space for the elderly to start to leave. As the other guests start to migrate towards the colorful tiles on the dance floor, the younger ones are more on the antisocial side—Yeri joins the table with Mark, Renjun, and her other university friends that were invited as well (considering that most of them can’t legally drink). Meanwhile, Yunho, Minho and Siwon continue their political conversations in another corner as their glasses are consistently refilled by the servers. 

At some point, Sehun simply puts on his sunglasses and holds a bright yellow floatie in one arm (“Sehun, we’re indoors,” Luhan says. “Your point?” he retorts). He walks past your table, saying something about how he needed the hot tub and a bottle of bubbly after this chaotic week—although, the nearly empty strawberry flavored vodka in his hand said a lot more about his lack of current sobriety. 

Meanwhile, you were long gone to the dance floor, being pulled in by Yuri and Hyoyeon. Go Eun was right; something just flips when Hit Me Baby One More Time plays. Namjoon remains at the table, watching the others continuously mingle and dance, as he engages in conversation with Jaebum and Taehyung. 

“You two came together?” Jaebum asks. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung says. “We went shopping together for Suho’s gift and he had no choice because he can’t drive,” Taehyung jabs a thumb towards Namjoon, who’s jaw drops. 

The audacity. 

“I suddenly miss Hoseok as my date,” Namjoon says. 

“It’s nice you all kept in touch,” Jaebum says, ignoring Namjoon’s pettiness. “It’s hard to do that nowadays.” 

“It really is,” Namjoon responds. 

Jaebum and Taehyung nod alongside him in response. At this moment, Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Jongdae are walking past them with black buckets to which splashes could be heard with each movement. 

“Hey guys!” Taehyung calls. 

Baekhyun turns towards the table and the three make their way to Namjoon and them. “Hey, Tae! Long time no see,” he says. “Nice to see you two again, thanks for coming,” Baekhyun says to Namjoon and Jaebum. “Did anyone wanna come to the pool?” 

Namjoon and Jaebum shake their heads. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” Namjoon says. 

“Same,” Jaebum says. “I forgot about it.” 

“Okay, good,” Chanyeol says. “Because you won’t want to swim in it later.” 

“What?” Jaebum asks. 

“We’re dying it pink,” Jongdae says. Their eyebrows raise in curiosity, but no one dares to ask. “Although, I think Kyungsoo has been catching on.” Jongdae’s eyes dart around, trying to catch sight of the short, but frightening man. 

“I’m sorry,” Jaebum says. “Not to be that guy, but, where’s your wife?” 

“She passed on the wedding invitation, so she’s at home with our daughter,” Jongdae says. His head tilts to the side and his eyes narrow. “Why?” 

“Just trying to understand why you left the house without your impulse control,” Jaebum responds with a smile. 

Jongdae pouts, but it’s ignored. 

“Wanna join?” Baekhyun asks. He has an innocent smile on, but his eyes are full of mischievousness. 

“I'll pass,” Namjon says with a raised hand. “But thanks for the offer.” 

“Same,” Jaebum says. “I don’t plan on messing with Kyungsoo.” 

“I’ll go with,” Taehyung says. “It’ll be interesting to see how all of this’ll unfold.” 

He waves the other two goodbye and points to Namjoon. “Text me if you want to leave early, but I’ll be at the pool, okay?” 

Namjoon nods. “Please be careful.” 

“Always!” 

Jaebum waits until they’re an earshot away. “I have a bad feeling about this.” 

Namjoon can only shrug. “But can you stop them?” 

“You got a point there.” 

From the other side of the venue, there’s a crash, followed by a splash, coming from the pool area and a yell louder than the music (which could only be Kyungsoo). 

“YOU BRATS!”

“Well,” Namjoon says. “They lasted longer than I thought.” 

Jaebum checks his watch. “Two minutes?” 

“Exactly.” 

No one is really sure of what happened with the dye (except for those who were actually in the pool). But it’s hard to concentrate on that when, out of the pool area, Jinki and Kibum emerge from the door with pool noodles, attacking one another with them with unnatural, pink frosted tips. Kyuhyun and Johnny are attempting to separate them, but are seemingly failing to do so. Jinki’s pool noodle hits Johnny, knocking him into a vase—luckily, he manages to catch it before it falls. 

… That is until Ten knocks into him as he shakes his ass along to Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie. 

“Oof,” Jaebum says. “That’s��� that’s rough, bro.” 

“Hopefully, no one notices?” 

“Hopefully.” 

Another server comes around, silently filling their glasses once more. 

“Thank you.” 

“Thank you.” 

They clink their glasses together in a silent toast and take a sip. Jaebum sighs, leaning back to his (well, your) seat. He takes another glance at the dance floor, spotting Heechul and Momo dancing their asses off. You would think that as dates they would be dancing together, but it looks more like they’re competing. Eventually, he spots you with some of the others. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t come here with (Y/N),” he says. 

Namjoon’s eyebrows raise. “What? What’d you mean?”

“I just mean..” He pauses. “It’s not bad that you two are friends,” he starts. “But, I was betting you two would be together… or, at least, in college.” 

Namjoon doesn’t know what to say, but Jaebum continues. “You two just had a lot of chemistry, and still do!” He pauses. “Not a lot of people can say that.” 

He nods. “Yeah, you’re right.” Namjoon looks out, easily spotting you from the crowd. It’s hard not to notice you as you twirl and dance around with some other guests—especially since someone managed to get you into a duck floatie. 

“I think it’s (Y/N) though,” he continues to say. “(Y/N)’s just sociable and… that outgoingness just makes people surround (Y/N).” 

“Is that what led you to (Y/N)?” 

From Jaebum’s question, Namjoon’s lips automatically pursed. “I-I guess it is.” 

Before Jaebum could say anything else, Give It To Me by Sistar starts to play and there’s a shout. 

“YES!” 

Before anyone could stop him, Junmyeon shimmies his way past the guests and towards the center—loudly singing along and doing all the dance moves. 

Without either one of the boys noticing, Minyoung stands behind them with another champagne flute that’s half empty. 

“Why hello, Mrs. Kim,” Jaebum says, looking rather cheeky. 

“Hello boys.” 

“So, Mrs. Kim,” Namjoon says. “What are you going to do about that?” he asks, pointing to the monstrosity that’s happening underneath the multi-colored disco ball.

“Uh, I don’t know,” she says. She swirls her glass and drowns it down. “Because I suddenly don’t know him anymore.” 

They laugh. 

“Well, that’s your husband now,” Namjoon says. “That’s all on you.” With those words, he tilts his glass towards his mouth, emptying it out once more for the night. 

January 27th, 2020 

Monday, 8AM 

The Roasted Bean

—

The sound of chatter and the smell of coffee fill the air as Namjoon steps into the familiar coffee shop. While some of his fellow co-workers sit at separate tables, typing away on their laptops and drinking from their espresso cups, they all collectively ignore his presence—too preoccupied with their own matters. His body automatically places himself in line; his head poking up every once in a while to get a glance of Yoongi behind the counter. 

Since it is early and they are located in the business district of the city, Namjoon expected for the line to be fairly long. As the time continues to pass, Namjoon quietly hums along to the songs that play on the morning radio, occasionally nodding along with the beat. He gets closer and closer, eventually giving a smile at the frowning barista. 

“How are you doing that?” Yoongi asks. “It’s, like, dawn.” 

“It’s eight in the morning,” Namjoon points out. “Not exactly dawn.” 

He brushes the comment off. “You’re here earlier than usual. What happened to 9 to 5, Dolly Parton?” 

“Nothing really,” he says with a shrug. “I just have some extra work to do and I should be able to leave an hour earlier.” 

Yoongi makes a face with nothing short of disgust. “I still don’t understand how you’re able to just go to work like that.” 

“You’re at work though.” 

“Okay, but here, I get free coffee.” 

“Isn’t that stealing?” 

“Not if I mess up,” he says with a wink. “Speaking of messing up orders, how can I mess up yours?” 

“The usual is fine,” Namjoon says. “Thanks, Yoongi.” He gets a grunt in response, so he takes that as his cue to head over to the side where the stirrers, creamers, and sugar lay. As he absentmindedly fiddles with the sugar packets, he goes back to humming along with the songs. 

A tap on his shoulder interrupts his thoughts. A familiar grin greets him. 

“I thought that was you,” you say. 

His smile mirrors yours. “Hey, (Y/N). I almost didn’t recognize you in the daylight.” 

“And I almost didn’t recognize you without alcohol in my system.” 

Namjoon laughs. “What are you doing here?” 

“You’re asking me what I’m doing in a coffee shop?” 

He gives you a look. “You know what I mean.” 

You let out a laugh of your own. “Well, I just was visiting my friend, who works down the street, and I heard this place has the best coffee.” 

His eyebrows raise. “Well, consider me pleasantly surprised.” 

“Thanks?” You let out another laugh, smiling as you move yourself towards him, along with the sugars and creamers. 

You both end up fiddling with the little packets, nodding along to the music together silently. Namjoon glances towards you, eventually nudging you to get your attention again. You hum in response. 

“You still prefer the french vanilla creamer?” 

“Yes, sir,” you say. You pluck it from his hands with a twinkling look in your eyes. 

He glances over again, catching your eye. He lets out an awkward chuckle. “What?” 

“Nothing,” you sing. “I just can’t believe you still remembered that.” 

“Considering how we spent most of our college years over-caffeinated,” he says. “It’s safe to say I remember it.” 

“Over-caffeinated?” You think for a moment. “Sounds about right.” You pause for a moment. “Oh!” 

Namjoon slightly jumps from your random shout, which you do apologize for. 

“Sorry.” You put a hand on his arm with a not-so-innocent smile. “I just remembered: are you going to Moonbyul’s wedding?” 

He thinks. It had been a while since he received the invitation, but he definitely remembers getting it. “Yeah,” he says, after a moment. “Yeah, Jin and I are planning on going together.” 

“Still can’t drive?” you ask with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. 

“You know what,” he says. “I can’t and there’s no problem with me not having a license.” 

“I didn’t say there was.” You sniffle your laughter, as he pouts. 

“Don’t license-shame me.” 

“Not a thing, Joonie.” 

Before he can reply, he’s interrupted by Yoongi, who calls for him. 

“Namjoon!” 

You give him another smile, before heading back to the line. “I have to get back in the line. I’ll see ya. Thanks for the creamer.” 

Before he heads back to the main counter, he gives you a little nod.

He tries to ignore Yoongi’s cheeky grin. “Don’t say anything.” 

“Okay,” Yoongi says. “I’ll ask instead. Who was that and why do you look all slap-happy?” 

Ah, semantics. They were going to get him some day. Namjoon sighs. “That was (Y/N).” 

“From college (Y/N)?” 

“College (Y/N).” 

“Ahhhh.” He smirks. 

“Can you not?” Namjoon groans.

“Didn’t you tell me you used to have a crush on (Y/N)?” 

“Can we not?” 

“Not what?” 

“Elaborate.” 

“Oh, okay. So,” Yoongi starts. “From your exact words: (Y/N) is technically your first love, but you never confessed out of fear—of both ruining your friendship and also rejection, which is only natural. You thought you had a chance at graduation, where you knew the ties could or could not be severed. And yet…. you still didn’t confess and, now that you’ve run into your old flame…” His eyebrows raise in question. “How are things, ‘Joonie’?” 

Namjoon’s eyes narrow at him in speculation. “You remembered those details rather vividly.” 

Yoongi shrugs. “My therapist says I have good listening skills.” 

“You really have an answer for everything,” Namjoon mutters. 

“And yet, I’m the one who’s a high school dropout.” 

For once, Namjoon blanks, before deciding to change the subject. “I thought you said my order is ready.” 

“It is.” Yoongi sets the large cup onto the counter and gives a bright smile that is filled with sarcasm. “Bone apple tea.” 

“Thanks?” 

“It’s lingo,” he says. “Keep up with the times, man. You’re younger than me.” 

Namjoon groans, but he can’t suppress his grin. “Have fun with the morning rush. I’ll see you later, man.” 

“See ya.” 

On his way out, he gives you another wave goodbye, to which you wave back.

As he officially leaves the cafe shop, he makes his way back to the office. While his mornings are rather shitty, Yoongi does tend to make them brighter—but seeing you, on top of that, might have given him more energy than the coffee does.

February 14th, 2020

Friday, 8:30PM 

Moonbyul’s Reception

Celebration Ceremonies Wedding Hall 

—

“I think we can all agree that Moonbyul has a stronger image,” Hyejin says. “Despite the more masculine stereotype she’s categorized in, Moonbyul is a very loving, sweet, and tender person.” She pauses. “Although, Heewon probably already knows this.” 

She turns to the rest of the guests. “People say that love is supposed to make you feel nervous—your heart will pound and the anxiety will make you sweat. But, I think, love means sharing yourself with another person and you’re willing to work together to build that life with one another. Byul is someone you can share anything with—she makes everything feel more comfortable. Rather than making you nervous, she makes you feel at ease.” 

She pauses. “Heewon, you’re very lucky to have someone so dedicated and hardworking by your side. And, while I may not have known you for very long, I know you’ll take great care of her. Congrats to the MoonWon couple and may your marriage be blessed for all eternity.” 

Light applause is given throughout the room and Hyejin makes her way back to her seat at the main table, with the other bridesmaids and immediate family members of the two brides. 

Light conversations begin once again at each of the guest tables—Moonbyul and Heewon remain seated at their table, having greeted the guests earlier as they entered the reception hall. In the background, classical music plays softly (although, live music will continue to play after the cake has been cut). 

It’s been calm so far, but who knows what will happen once the bar’s open. 

Namjoon takes another sip from his water glass, listening as Seokjin rambles on about the perfect ramen. Next to Jin, there’s Hani and Yura, who look half confused and half-amazed at how much he knew about food. On the other side of Namjoon, Junghwan and Myungsoo are eating away at their plates, practically cleaning them with their utensils as they scrape the food off (despite that, Namjoon swears he heard both of them ask if doggy bags were doing to be given out). 

“There’s this cute little shop that Namjoon and I used to go to all the time. Remember, Namjoon? It had that seafood theme with the cute decorations?”

Namjoon’s head turns from his name being mentioned. “Yeah?” He blinks, recalling the cute fish tanks they had along the wall. Granted, the restaurant also sold sushi and he always felt guilty whenever he ordered the sashimi platters. “We should go back there sometime. They really do have the best ramen there. You should give it a shot, if you get the chance.” 

“I’m always up for food,” Hani says. “I’ll take the girls with me someday since you’re giving it such high praise.” 

“Well,” Namjoon says. “Maybe when Hyerin gets back from her honeymoon.” 

“Very true.” 

“It does sound like a cute date spot,” Yura adds. “Maybe I’ll get lucky enough to find someone to go with here.” 

“Ooh,” Seokjin says. “I’ll share the address with the newlyweds too. They can go on cute dates together!” Seokjin turns back to Namjoon with a pout. “We don’t go on any dates anymore.” 

“I’m busy at work, you know this.” 

“You can still try to make time like you do with Jimin, at least.” 

“I didn’t know you were dating,” Hani says, glancing between them. “Have you been together long?” 

Namjoon nearly chokes on his food from the laugh that escapes his throat. 

“We’re not dating,” Seokjin answers. “Namjoon’s got his eye on someone else.” Namjoon gives him a questionable look, which he ignores. “As a little birdie has told me.” 

Damn Yoongi and his big mouth. 

At that moment, there’s some microphone feedback coming from the front. 

“Hello?” Yongsun and Jaehwan stand on the stage and Yongsun carefully taps the microphone in her hand. “Hello, everyone. Can you all hear me?” 

“Yes!”

She smiles. “Well, I hope you’re all having a good time. We're just about to cut the cake, but, before that, Jaehwan and I have prepared a duet for the new couple for their first dance! I hope you all enjoy it and another congratulations to our brides.”

Jaehwan gives a thumbs up to the DJ in the corner, who gives another in return and starts to play a soft melody. The lights dim and, from Namjoon’s line of vision, he sees Moonbyul stand, bowing to her wife with a hand out to invite her to the dance floor. The two make their way to the middle and slowly start to sway together. Others start to join in too, listening to the soothing music provided by Yongsun and Jaehwan. 

Namjoon nods along to the song, along with the many others who stayed at their tables. He takes a glance around, spotting some of the other guests and that’s when he sees you with Wheein and Eric. An automatic grin appears on his face as he sees you. The three of you are holding hands and slowly swaying to the beat with bright, proud smiles as you all look at the lovely couple. 

He glances to the side, only to see Seokjin with a smug face. He feels the heat creeping back up his neck and towards his cheeks. Namjoon clears his throat, shifting in his seat from his friend’s eyes. “What?” 

“I think you know what.” 

“No, I don’t.” He clears his throat once more, feeling it dry up. “Stop staring at me like that.” 

“Staring at you like what?” 

“Like what?” Seokjin tilts his head in a mocking manner. 

Namjoon sighs as he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “You know what I mean.” 

“No,” he says in a singsong tone with a higher pitch. “I don’t~” He gives another look to Namjoon, speaking up again, back in his normal tone. “That’s what you sound like right now. You can’t lie to me and you know it.”

Namjoon lets out another sigh. He does know it; he really can’t lie, especially to one of his best friends. Because of this though, he’s going to be teased endlessly. “Do you remember (Y/N)?” 

“Of course I do,” he says. “How could I ever forget the person you pined over for the entirety of college and afterwards?” 

“Can you please not mention that part?” 

“How could I not, though?” Seokjin tilts his head with a little smile that’s nothing short of mischievous. “You never confessed too, so that just added onto the secondhand frustration I had whenever you two were together.” 

“Oh my God,” he mutters. “I’m just gonna stop talking altogether.” 

“No, no, no,” Seokjin whines. “Please continue, I’ll be quiet.” 

“Okay,” Namjoon says with a sigh. “I may… or may not, have ran into (Y/N) a couple of times at some other weddings and the coffee shop—” 

“Which is where I got my info—” 

He gives him a look, which shuts him up. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Proceed.” 

“(Y/N) is also here—” 

Seokjin squeals, clapping his hands together—unable to contain his excitement. “Where? Where? Where?” 

“(Y/N)’s with Eric and Wheein right now.” 

“So? Go join them; talk to them, chat ‘em up.” 

“Dude, you’re a great hype man,” Namjoon says. “But, not that great. (Y/N) seems busy, I shouldn’t interfere with that.” 

“What you lack, my friend, is the confidence.” He pauses. “Do you need some of mine? Because I’d be happy to rub some onto you.” 

“No, thank—” Even though Namjoon (halfway) rejected him, Seokjin is already rubbing his hands onto Namjoon’s face and, at that, with a bright smile as he smushes his best friend’s face. 

After a couple of seconds, Seokjin pats Namjoon’s face, admiring his ‘work’ for a second. “There. You are set.” He gives Namjoon a little push. “Now go.” 

“Now?” 

“Of course now; they’re starting to cut the cake and (Y/N)’s gonna be alone.” He makes a shoo-ing motion with his hands. While Namjoon would rather let his anxiety take over, Seokjin’s got a point. Yongsun and Jaehwan have finished their duet; Moonbyul and Heewon have already moved on to cutting the cake, which have taken most of the guests’ attention—even Hani and Yura have moved themselves towards the front (granted, anything with food will draw them in). Better now than never. 

Namjoon stands up, straightening out his shirt and tightening his tie. Seokjin gives a thumbs-up and a pat on the butt, before Namjoon sets off towards your table. 

He takes long strides with, little to some, confidence. By the time he gets near your table, he stops behind you and lightly taps your shoulder. 

You turn around, greeting him with a bright grin. “I knew you’d be around somewhere!” 

“You were looking for me?” He tries not to look too shocked. 

“Considering how you said you were going to be here… Yeah, I kind of was.” You turn back to Eric and Wheein. “Scootch over, y’all. Namjoon’s got a seat next to me.” 

“Don’t even worry about it,” Eric says. “We’ll be out of your hair in a second.” 

“We’re gonna go get some cake and then we’re gonna go to the bouquet toss too,” Wheein says. “I also have to stop Hyerin from running into the kitchen to get more of the food. Don’t worry though, we’ll be back.” 

They both get up, waving you both goodbye, and catch up with the rest of the crowd. 

Meanwhile, you turn back to Namjoon. “So, what brought you over?” You lean your chin on your hand. “Was it my sparkling aura you felt the presence of?” 

He laughs, responding with a teasing tone of his own. “What else could it have been otherwise?” He shifts in his seat. “Are you having fun?” 

“You know me, Joonie,” you say with a laugh of your own. “I’ll find a way to have fun.” You eye him. “Are you having fun? Or are you planning on being anti-social again?” 

“Again?” His eyebrows raise. “How dare you. I am an introvert, not anti-social. I came to you this time.” 

“Uh-huh,” you say with crossed arms. “This time being the key phrase. Don’t you have other friends?” 

“I have other friends.” He pouts. “I came here with Seokjin.” 

You gasp. “I haven’t seen him in so long. I need to catch up with him; I miss him.” You poke your head around towards the dance floor, waving to Seokjin—who is currently doing his infamous traffic dance underneath the disco lights. 

“Wow. Really feeling the love here, (Y/N).” 

You turn back to him with a teasing smile and poke your finger into his dimple that he doesn’t even bother to try to swat away. “I’ve missed you too, Joonie.” 

He quickly takes your hand off his face, hoping you didn’t feel the heat that rises to his face. 

“We can make plans too,” you say with a nudge. “You know, instead of meeting at all these weddings.” 

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “That’d be a lot easier.” 

“Give me your phone.” 

Namjoon reaches into his pocket, easily pulling out his phone and hands it over to you. He lets you tap around on it, until he realizes something. “Wait, what are you doing? I have your number.” 

“I’m checking your schedule,” you say. “Makes things easier to plan.” You look up from the screen. “Especially since you’re an important businessman.” 

He closes his eyes, in an attempt not to laugh at the ridiculous statement, but the grin on his face gives his emotions away. 

You scroll through his calendar, before landing on a date. “I’m free for lunch on Wednesday.” You dangle the phone in front of him. “Think you can make some time for me?” 

“(Y/N), I can always make time for you.” He really hopes that didn’t sound as desperate as it did. 

However, he doesn’t think you care—as he spots the large grin on your face. 

“Great,” you say. “It’s a date.” 

Namjoon is unable to say anything, as he’s sabotaged by his own friend. 

Seokjin dances his way over, pulling him onto the dance floor. “Need to borrow him, thanks! I’ll catch up with you later, (Y/N)!” He gives a light push to Namjoon, who’s trying to keep up with Seokjin’s dance moves. “How’d it go?” 

“We set a date?” He tries to collect his thoughts, but he’s having issues with processing it. “I think?” 

“See what happens when you have a little confidence?” He interrupts before Namjoon can answer. “You’re welcome.” 

“Oh my God,” he mutters with disbelief. Sometimes, he really can’t believe the amount of confidence that this one man has. 

“Now keep dancing, that’s how we’re gonna make our way closest to the bouquet. I’m catching that and no one can stop me.” 

“Seokjin, why are you like this?” 

“Oh hush, you love me.” Seokjin does a little body wave to skim past the other guests. “Y’all better watch out ‘cause the king is coming!” 

February 19th, 2020

Wednesday, 12:30PM 

Emerby Eateries 

—

Namjoon’s fingers tap against the table, checking his watch for the time once again. He takes another sip of from his water glass, oddly feeling the anxiety hit. Does this count as a date? You did say it was a date, but… is this really a date? 

Before he can linger too long on the thought, the seat in front of him is taken—by you. You’re slightly out of breath and, from the sight of your hair being slightly out of place, he can assume you did a small run on your way here before you were any more late than you already were. 

“You’re late,” he says with a singsong tone. He picks up the menu, pretending to glance over the options. “You really haven’t changed since college.” 

“Tsk, tsk, Joonie.” You brush off his statement with a wave of your hand. “You’re just too punctual. I was just a couple of minutes late.” 

“More like ten minutes late.” 

“Potato, potato.” You grab your menu, glancing through the appetizers. “Time’s an illusion anyways.” 

He tries to stop his laughter, but one look at you and he breaks his fake anger. 

“Did you order anything without me?” you ask. 

“Of course not,” he says. “I figured you would want to share anyways, so you can decide on what you want.” 

“And jack the bill up? I’m not that type of person.” 

“Stand down,” he says. “Not what I meant.” 

You chuckle. “I’m just pulling your leg. But, seriously, is there anything you’ve set your heart on ordering?” 

“Well, the sandwiches look good.” His tongue clicks as he contemplates on his order. “I usually get those whenever I’m here, so I’ll probably get one. Do you know what you want?” 

“Not really, I’ve been stuck on the appetizers. Did you want to split one?” You set your menu down, but your eyes don’t leave it. “They got fried pickles and I kind of want to try them. They also have those cheese balls that those mukbang youtubers eat.” You look up at him. “I kind of want to try those, not gonna lie.” 

He smiles at the way your eyes sparkle at the thought. “I’m not stopping you, you know.” 

“I know, but will you eat it with me? I’ll even pay for them.” 

“Damn, (Y/N),” he says with a hand on his chest. “That’s how I know your love is real.” 

You let out another laugh at his words and Namjoon couldn’t help but admire how carefree you look. While the two of you were a chaotic duo, the chaos was more drawn out from your side—not really chaos, it was more of your impulsiveness. But, it doesn’t mean he didn’t enjoy those memories with you. In fact, he cherishes them the most from his college memories. 

He still can’t believe he let you convince him of breaking into the campus gym’s pool. There was also that time when you two were drunk and you told him you wanted to try rock climbing—at the end of the night, you took an hour to climb up to his top bunk, declared success, and passed out once your head hit his pillow. You also broke into a classroom with him, to explain your theories on how birds work for the bourgeoisie (while the theories were insane, he had to admit you had a really convincing argument, which was probably due to all those essays you had to write). 

“Do you know what you would like?” 

The server’s question makes him snap out of his thoughts. He looks at you expectantly and you do him the solid by answering first. 

“We’re gonna need some more time for the entrees, but could I get a couple of appetizers first?” 

“Of course, whenever you’re ready.” 

“Okay, so we��re going to start with the fried cheese balls with some fire sauce on the side, along with some fries.” 

“Anything to drink?” 

“I’m good with water.” You look to Namjoon. 

“Uh, me too. Water’s fine.” 

You both thank your server before she leaves and turn back your menus when she’s out of sight. There’s a moment of silence as you both deliberate on what to get. Namjoon’s already figured he would just get what he usually does a while ago; his menu is shut and left on the side as he waits for you to figure out what you want. He can only shake his head; you’re still just as indecisive as before. 

Light pop music plays in the background and his fingers tap along with the beat. He moves his focus to the window where people continue to pass by on the busy city street. It’s lunchtime, so he expected the foot traffic to pick up a bit (and it did)—which was why he wanted to go a bit earlier. After another moment, he turns back to you, only to see you already looking at him. 

“Having fun?” you ask with a quirk of your lip. 

“Always.” He leans back in his chair. “You figured out what you want?” 

“Yeah, it took a bit but I figured it out.” 

When the server comes over again, the appetizers are served and you both order the entrees. You and Namjoon split the appetizers, nearly finishing them until the entrees were ready. Between all this time, you two actually catch up. It’s more than just the casual conversations you’ve had at those weddings—you’re both taking more time to listen to one another (in a more sober conversation) and actually talk about the things you didn’t manage to get to. Next thing you knew, it’s already been nearly an hour. 

“Can you believe that we’re actually adults living in this capitalistic society?” You set your glass down. “We’re doing things like paying for bills.” 

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s called responsibilities.” He lets out another laugh at the face you make from his word choice.

“Ugh, that’s disgusting. Don’t make me choke.” You take another sip of your water. “You know one way of knowing there’s the transition from childhood to adulthood is attending more funerals than weddings.” 

“It seems more like the opposite for us, don’t you think?” 

“Oh my God,” you groan. “You’re so right though. The amount of weddings I’ve been attending…” You shake your head, as if to convince yourself the number is lower than it actually is. “It’s kind of ridiculous. Don’t get me wrong, I love all of my friends, but Jesus Christ, it’s like they all had a pact to get married around the same time and decided to leave me out.” 

Namjoon sighs, playing with the leftover sauce on the side. “I’ve been to, like, five last year and I’m pretty sure it’s going to keep coming.” 

“I really feel you, Joonie. I really do. I have a couple more I have to go to later.” You let out a sigh. “Curse me for being so friendly with others.” 

“Haha, this is what you get for being popular.” 

“I am not popular; I just happen to be a bit more extroverted than you.” 

“More like a lot,” he says. “You definitely used to be a popular kid in high school.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. What’s wrong with a couple more friends?” 

“No, no, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a compliment: people enjoy your company and that’s how you managed to keep the ties you still have…” He pauses. “Like me.” 

You give him another teasing smile. “Glad to know you enjoy my company.” 

“It’d be awkward if I didn’t, considering I decided to have lunch with you.” 

“Oh, yeah, by the way, how long are your lunch breaks?” 

“Since I’ve moved up to management, I get more time, so about an hour or so—give or take.” 

Your eyebrows raise. “Wow, look at you.” 

He tries to suppress the blush from the look you give him. 

“And despite all of this,” you continue to say. “You still don’t have your license?” 

“Why are you bringing this up again?” He groans. 

“It came up organically when I was with Seokjin,” you say. “You know... After he managed to steal the bouquet from Sunmi’s hands.” 

“So,” he says with a glint in his eye. “You did talk to Seokjin that night?” 

“Yeah, I did. Found out a little bit about what you’ve been doing after college.” 

“So you talked about me?” 

For the first time today, the blush starts to creep up your face. Namjoon raises an eyebrow at the sight; for once, he seems to have the upper hand. You clear your throat, before taking another sip of your near-empty glass. 

“Don’t try to change the subject,” you say. “You still don’t have your license.” 

“I-I just never had the time and the office is close to my apartment…” He tries to find the words (excuses, if he’s really being honest). “All of my friends have their licenses, so I don’t see the appeal of getting one.” 

“So, what I’m hearing is, you have a uncommitted chauffeurs.” 

“Oh my God, (Y/N),” he says with a laugh. “I don’t have that much money yet.” 

“Yet. That’s the word to focus on.” 

You both laugh again. 

“Well, I would love to be your chauffeur anytime,” you say with another grin. “That is if you pay me for gas money.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. “Thank you for the offer though.” 

“It’s no problem.” You let out a sigh, but it’s more relaxed than tired. “I’m serious though. If you need a ride, you can always ask.” 

“I know, I know,” he says. He swirls his glass, trying to distract himself before he lets out his next words. “I know I can count on you anytime.” 

The sparkle in your eyes returns and Namjoon has to stop his heart from skipping a beat at the sight. 

March 10th, 2020

Tuesday, 4PM 

Shoreside Condos

—

Hey! Just a friendly reminder to RSVP to our wedding! 

We’d love for all of you to join! 

See you then! 

- Anna Young and Eric Nam

Namjoon squints at the email and its neat, curly font. If he didn’t have Eric’s email saved, he definitely would have thought it was some type of subscription he signed up for and completely forgot about from the words alone. 

He makes a mental note to dry-clean his fancy suit before the time comes. Although, realistically speaking, he has more than enough time to do so. He can probably (and most likely will) procrastinate on it.

As he tries to make the mental arrangements, in the background, the television plays on another generic movie channel that doesn’t play anything remotely worth paying attention to (he might make an exception for The Hunger Games though). Rapmon sits on the couch, next to Namjoon, with his front paws and head laying on Namjoon’s legs. One hand pets Rapmon softly and the other hand hovers over his laptop’s keypad as he quickly RSVP’s for the wedding and reception. 

Namjoon easily fills it out with one hand, humming along as he taps the individual keys. However, he realizes that there is a problem after submitting the form: he has no ride. From what he can recall, the others probably aren’t going, considering these were two separate friend groups—so there’s no point in asking anyone for a possible ride. Then again, he could always get an uber or carpool with someone else. 

He sucks in a breath, praying someone he knew would be on the guest list. Going back to his email, he looks over those who were sent the same email.

While he is acquainted with over half of the people, there isn’t anyone close enough he could ask. Jackson’s most definitely going with his long-time partner and there is no way Namjoon wants to be between the two of them. On the other hand, Amber is probably going with a group of people and he’s not really up for a conversation with a bunch of people he’s unfamiliar with. On top of all that, Eric is very sociable, so there are bound to be guests from all sorts of places (considering the unknown names from the email). 

Although....there is another option. 

He quickly picks up his phone, scrolling through his contact list. His finger stops as he hovers over your contact. He taps on it, but can’t find the courage to hit any button. The contact photo of you, smiling with a bundle of puppies (from that time you wanted to pet a bunch of puppies at Petco), is what his eyes linger on the most. 

While the rational side of his mind knows you would be ecstatic to go to Eric’s wedding with him, the irrational side tells him that he shouldn’t bother you. What if you think he’s just using you for rides? Are you just going to drop him off? Should he invite you as a date? But, most of all, what if you just flat out reject him? 

Rapmon senses his master is upset and tilts his head up at Namjoon as his paws start to pat him—at least, his leg—to make him feel better. Namjoon can only smile, patting his head in response as a silent thanks for the attempt to comfort him. However, because of that… 

“No!” 

One of Rapmon’s paws hits the call button and Namjoon can feel ten years of his life being shaved off as the tone starts to ring. 

“Ahhh!!!” 

Out of panic, he drops the phone quicker than a hot potato. Luckily for him, it lands on the soft carpet below. He looks to Rapmon, who looks around, panting—without a care in the world, as if nothing was wrong. 

But right now, everything is wrong. 

Before Namjoon could even pick up the phone, nevertheless hang up, the ringing tone stops and there’s a soft response. 

“Hello?” 

He stumbles around, trying to grab the phone, but hitting the coffee table with his foot and falling on his ass. “Oh shi—” 

“... Hello?” 

“Sorry!” he shouts aloud. He quickly puts himself together, sitting back on the couch and leans down to grab his phone. He clears his throat, before speaking. “Hello?” 

“Hey, Joonie.” He can hear your grin over the phone. What’s up?” 

“Oh, nothing much..” He lets a small exhale, trying to calm himself from the embarrassing situation. “Um, what’s up with you?” 

“Nothing really?” He hears some clutter as you are shifting the phone on your shoulder. “I’m just at home. You know, doing this and that.” 

“Oh, oh. Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you—” 

“Namjoon, you can never bother me,” you say. “What’s up though? Not that I mind you calling me a bit out of the blue.” 

He opens his mouth, unable to really find the words. “So, uhm… This is kind of stupid.” 

“More stupid than you cutting that onion?” 

“That was one time.” His eyes close, trying to repress his laughter and the embarrassing memory. “Let it go!” 

There’s a laugh on the other side of the line; your laugh is infectious, causing Namjoon to burst into a laughing fit as well. 

“Um, okay,” he says. He lets out a sigh. “This is, like, way earlier than I originally intended.” 

“Come on, Joonie. Spit it out; it’s just me.” 

That’s the problem though: it’s you. But he can’t say that without it sounding weird. His lips twist to try to find the right words. “Do you remember Eric?” 

“You mean the guy I met at Moonbyul’s wedding?” 

“Yeah, him.” 

“Yeah, I remember him. Why?” 

“Well, he invited me to his wedding…” 

“Oh, good for him.” 

“Yeah.. but I was wondering…” Maybe he shouldn’t ask, but he does anyways. “If you could give me a ride?” 

You let out a small laugh. “Of course I can give you a ride.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, when is it?” 

“It’s in April, which is, like, a month away, but—” 

“Considering how I can’t even plan the next day, I’m sure I’ll be able to give you a ride, like, a month later.” 

“Well,” he says. He can feel his shoulders tense a bit. “It doesn’t just have to be a ride…” His fingers absentmindedly toy with a decorative button on his couch. “Did you… did you want to be my plus one?”

There’s a bit of silence and Namjoon can only swallow, feeling all the moisture in his mouth. 

“... It depends.” 

“On what?” 

Your response is a bit softer from the original teasing tone you had before. “It depends if you really want me there.” 

He relaxes, easily leaning back onto the couch. “Of course I want you there, consider it a trade deal.” 

“A trade deal?” 

“I get a ride and you get free food?” 

You hum a bit into the phone. “I like that preposition, but could I refer to this as a favor?” 

“Considering that it is a favor,” he says. “Sure—I owe you one.” 

“I’m gonna hold onto that against you then.”

“I’m completely fine with that, (Y/N).” 

“Okay, just keep in touch and text me the details when you get the time.” 

Before you can hang up, he speaks up once more. “Hey, (Y/N)?” 

There’s a bit more shuffling, but it stops. “Yeah?” 

“Thanks.” 

“It’s no problem, Joonie. You can count on me anytime.” 

He smiles into the phone for the nth time and looks down at his feet, feeling the blush return. “I know.” He pauses. “I’ll-I’ll text you.” 

“You better, Joonie. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Bye.” 

“Bye!” 

His phone screen turns black for a second, before returning back to your smiling contact image. His grin grows and he slumps back further into the couch, practically beaming once his body is bully molded with the couch. He turns back to his fluffy boy and plays with his fur, giving him thorough pets. “Such a good boy. I shall retrieve you a treat soon.” 

Rapmon barks happily at his spot, continuing to pant as he moves his eyes on the television screen. 

Meanwhile, Namjoon gets back to his spreadsheets, minimizing his personal email tab. He manages to do his tasks much happier now that he’s got something to look forward to. 

April 3rd, 2020 

Friday, 7:30PM 

Eric’s Reception

Bright Rings Event Venue 

—

“Anyone who knows Eric,” Eddie says. “Knows that he’s very easy-going. He’s able to get along with anyone, which is how he’s able to meet so many people and make so many friends. So, when I first introduced Eric to Anna, I thought this was nothing more than another just friends situation. Little did I know was that I would be standing here… as the best man for their wedding.” 

He moves himself closer to the main table, where the bride and groom are seated. “As Eric’s brother—and manager—I did not think that he would be married before me.” The crowd laughs light-heartedly. “Don’t worry, I’m not bitter about it. I’m glad Eric has found someone who’s willing to spend their life with him, especially after getting to know him.” He lets out a small laugh as Eric pouts from his seat. 

“Anyways, Anna—” He raises his glass. “This toast is for you. Consider this your official welcome to the Nam family.” 

The guests click their glasses with the others, exchanging pleasantries along the way. Namjoon comfortably smiles at you, and vice versa, before drowning a mouthful of the bubbly champagne that you two had previously cheered with. The chatter picks up once again as Eddie sits down next to his date at the main table with the newlyweds. Everyone resumes their conversations, slowly building up to, nearly, maximum volume. Birds of a feather flock together—Eric’s loud personality attracts many other eccentric personalities. 

Namjoon takes a look around, taking note of the other guests. There’s a wide variety of people; while some are from college, from what he could recall, most of them are unfamiliar faces and unrecognizable place settings. Although, he should thank Eric for his place setting—many of those at this table are faces he does know. 

Jackson and his long-time girlfriend and recently engaged fiance, Hua Yi, were seated (luckily) on Namjoon’s left side and you were placed to his right. On your right, you sat next to Amy Lee and Amber—who were like Eric’s non-biological sisters. You were making easy conversation with the other guests, both familiar and non, as per usual. Maybe it’s due to your presence, but Namjoon has been able to easily converse with others as well. 

Jaehyung, another close friend of Eric’s, is currently at the front of the stage to provide entertainment with his guitar. He sings a sweet melody, contributing to the light atmosphere—above all the chatter and light conversation happening. 

“You know, I’ve always wanted to play the guitar,” you say, leaning closer to him. “Maybe I should’ve joined the band kids in high school to pick up a little something.” 

“Well, I did band…. kind of.” His face contorts, remembering the piano lessons he was forced to participate in due to the school’s curriculum. “But, trust me when I say that it did nothing for me.” 

Your eyebrows raise. “Nothing?” You lean in closer, with an elbow propped on your knee. “You almost became one of those famous soundcloud rappers. I think you should give yourself some more credit.” 

“Yeah, well, I can only play chopsticks,” he says. “So, were those four years really worth it?”

“Is anything from high school really worth it though?” 

You both chuckle as the old memories from high school started to occupy your minds. To think that Namjoon had really spent four years, not knowing what the hell he was doing—only to study for four more years to survive life and work a stable job with a stable paycheck... Time really does just fly. 

“Oh my God,” he says. “High school was awful.” 

“College was fun though.” You let out a relaxed sigh as you lean back and your eyes nearly sparkle from the fond memories you’d made way-back-when. “That’s the time period anyone would go back to.” 

“I would prefer the experience without the debt though.” 

“Thank God for scholarships.” You give him a little nudge. “Am I right, Mr. 148-IQ?”

Namjoon rolls his eyes at your words in a playful manner.

Before he can respond back, microphone feedback plays through the speakers, causing most to wince at the sound. Eric and Anna have entered the stage area, nearly blocking Jae—who simply waves at the crowd with his head poking out from behind the couple. 

“Hello?” Eric says. “Can everyone hear me okay?” 

There’s a collective murmur and he speaks up once more. “Okay, we’re good. Before anything, let’s give another round of applause for Jae!” 

There’s a light round of applause for Jaehyung, who gives a big smile and wave. Eric continues to speak after it dies down a bit. “Thank you all for coming once again. We both really appreciate that you took the time to be here for us.” 

“Right now, we’re going to have our first dance,” Anna says. “So, we’re gonna slow things down with the musical accompaniment of our very own Ailee!” 

Next to you, Amy raises from her seat and makes her way to the stage. You, along with Namjoon, clap for her—cheering her on as she walks towards center stage. She chats a bit with Jaehyung as the two of them start to set up. After a bit, she does a bit of harmony with Jaehyung and, shortly after, the sweet, soft melody of the guitar starts to play. 

Anna guides Eric towards the middle of the dance floor, who’s got a grin the size of the entree plates; she places his hands on her waist and hers on his shoulders, leaning into him as the song continues to play. Other guests slowly join them as well, including Jackson and Hua Yi. 

In a couple of minutes, you and Namjoon are the only ones left at the table. You two continue to chat for the time being, even as the music changes and time continues to go by. The other guests come and go by your table (even Mark came by, but the thumbs-up he gives Namjoon made him quite flustered); some had left a bit sooner because of prior engagements they had arranged for the next day. 

By this point, it’s past three hours—the cake has already been cut and the bar is officially open for the rest of the evening. The loud personalities had just gotten louder as the night got longer. 

Yongsun’s alcohol tolerance has been hit as she swings on the stipper pole with a plate of cake in her hands. On the other hand, as the songs started to get more upbeat, Amy abandoned her post at the stage and headed towards the bar—where she’s been doing her own personal wine tasting (and karaoke session). Amber had briefly joined her, before deciding to lead an impromptu concert that may or may not have resulted with her currently crowd-surfing. Jackson is with Peniel… doing whatever they usually do (although, Namjoon definitely recalls Peniel holding very tightly onto a Naked smoothie bottle; something about getting naked at the reception). 

The chaos goes on, even with the two of you in your own little bubble. The only difference though… is the alcohol intake as the time had passed. Considering how many glasses you had drowned, along with the ones Amy kept recommending to you and the ones brought by other servers, Namjoon is starting to remember how good your tolerance is. Despite that, you are definitely starting to feel it hit hard all at once. Meanwhile, he’s suffering silently from a mere three glasses. 

You drown another glass of your white wine. “Ahh.” You lean back in your chair with closed eyes. “My guy, I definitely cannot drive for a while.” 

A giggle spills from his lips as the alcohol starts to flow throughout his system.  “I can’t drive at all.” 

You laugh along with him; his giddiness is contagious. “Are you drunk?” 

“Nope.” He pops the p, giving you a wide beam that showcases his perfect, shiny teeth.

You raise your eyebrows, but don’t say anything. You can’t focus on anything from seeing how red his face is. You can’t resist yourself and lightly tug on his ears—which are also a similar shade—to pull him a bit closer to you. “Joonie, you’re so cute when you’re drunk.” 

He feels the blood rush more into his cheeks, but he can’t help his smile growing from the compliment. Even as you’re squishing his cheeks together, he doesn’t pull away from your touch. 

“AYO!” 

Both of your heads turn towards the stage. Anna’s clearly had her fill of alcohol too. Her hair is in loose curls from the tight updo she previously had. She currently stands on the stage, the mic in one hand and her bouquet in the other; her wedding dress was already ripped—but it looks as if it was chopped with some basic kitchen knife—to a shorter length. 

“It’s time for the flower toss!” She waves it around, dangling it in front of the crowd. “Anyone who wants this can come and get it!” 

A small group of people start to push their way towards the front as Anna turns her back towards them. 

You divert your attention back to the man in your hands. “I’m gonna go.” 

“Will you be back?” 

“Very soon.” You look dead serious. “Swearies.” 

He nods his head (to the best of his ability, considering his face is literally in your hands) and watches on as you head towards the crowd, easily fitting in with the others. He leans his chin into his palm, watching you engage with a bunch of people, who are literal strangers to you. It’s amazing how you can easily and naturally insert yourself into a group of people. He knows he probably looks like some type of idiot, but, right now, you are the only thing that matters. 

Back at the stage, Anna counts, leaning back little by little with a swing of her hands. “3! 2!” 

Just as she tosses the flowers over her head, Mike yells. “Yeet!” 

“Mine!” Peniel calls. 

But Matthew gets there first. 

“Interception, bitch!” 

He knocks the bouquet from its original path. It was almost like a high school basketball match from the way it happened.

Next thing you know, a couple of grown ass men were starting a brawl over an overpriced floral arrangement. Jamie interferes the two, squeezing herself in between the two idiots and easily whacking them, effectively getting them to stop. 

“Not the tiddies!” 

“Shut the fuck up!” she yells. “This isn’t about you!” With each word, she uses the flowers to hit each of them. 

While everyone’s distracted, Jackson rips the flowers from Jamie’s hands. He makes his way over to Hua Yi, easily getting down on one knee. Before he says anything, Hua Yi rips the flowers out of his hands and yells. “We’re already engaged, you idiot!” There’s no harm in it, considering how wide her grin is and the blush that’s apparent on her cheeks. 

Eric, eventually, takes over the stage once more—his tie loose and tossed carelessly over his shoulder. Despite it being his wedding, he looks like he’s  seen some stuff happen. He stands next to Anna with the mic, which he definitely had to pry out of her hands, and simply sighs as he watches the chaos. “This is cancelled; y’all are banned—I’m calling the police.” 

Of course, everyone ignores his empty threat and continues to brawl over the flowers. 

Namjoon’s attention is taken away from the scene, as you move past the chaos, and head back towards him. You arrive back with a pout, immediately slouching back in your seat. He rests his chin on the table, inching closer to you with eyes that sparkle like an anime character. 

“I didn’t get it,” you whine. 

He pouts with you, feeling your pain. “I’m sorry.” 

You let out a sigh and proceed to take another shot. A drop spills from your lips, trailing down your neck and Namjoon’s eyes unconsciously follow it. 

“Joonie,” you say. 

His eyes go back to yours. “Yes.”

“I need ice cream.” 

“Ice cream?” His eyebrows furrowed together in concentration and thought. “They only have cake.” 

“Then we need to go to the ice cream, Joonie.” 

His eyes widen in a comedic size reeling you’re correct. He snaps his fingers, lifting himself from the table, and pointing directly at you. “You are a genius.” 

“I fucking know, bro.” You pause as you realize your predicament. “I can’t drive.” 

“Neither can I.” 

“Not like that,” you say. “I’ve had like…. more than five glasses.” 

“Really?” His mouth gaps open. “I lost count after the tenth one.” 

“Ten?!” You gasp. “Did I really drink that much?” 

“I don’t know, (Y/N). I said I lost count.” 

You blink at him, slowly coming to the realization of how much alcohol was actually in your system. “Oh my God.” Your pout returns. “But I want ice cream now.” 

He hums, rocking a bit in his chair, like an old man out on the front porch, to find some way out of the complication. His eyes finally met yours. “I think I have a solution.”

Friday, 11:45PM

After Eric’s Reception

Midnight Munchies

—

Your giggle overlaps with the sound of the bell that rings as you two walk into the late-night dessert shop. The workers greet you cheerfully, which you both respond back to. You are looking at the glass that showcases all the different flavors, whereas Namjoon tries to read the menu to the best of his ability—but his squinting shows how bad his vision is at the moment. 

Back at Bright Rings, after some common sense had slowly started to come back, you both searched up ice cream places nearby. Luckily, Namjoon found a place that served ice cream at this hour and it was close enough to walk to—resulting in an improvised, evening stroll which was just the two of you laughing at dumb jokes along the way (he may or may not have used some of Seokjin’s dad jokes along the way). 

Due to the lesser amount of drinks in his system, he sobered up a bit… On the other hand, yours still remained. But nothing can’t be fixed with a little bit of ice cream (at least, that’s what you said).

“Do you know what you would like?” 

Your attention has been turned to the server behind the counter. “Uh, not me.” Scooting closer to Namjoon, you give him a nudge. “Joonie, do you know what you want?” 

“I’m not sure,” he says with a slight frown. “What’d you think I should get?” 

You let out a small hum as you think, before pointing to the fruit flavors in the middle. “You like fruit flavored ice cream, and you definitely need to try something new, so I say you should get the melon.” 

“Okay,” he says with a nod. “I trust you.” He turns to the worker. “Can I please get a scoop of the melon ice cream?” 

“Would you like any toppings?” 

“Uhh.” He turns to you. “Should I?” 

“If you want some, then get some.” 

He hesitates a bit. “Strawberries?” 

The worker raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” 

Turning back towards the counter, he answers. “Yes.”

He receives his ice cream, waiting as you order yours and pays when you’re done—despite your protests. You two thank the staff and add some change into the tip jar, before heading out to go back to the venue to sober up a bit more. 

For a bit, you two are enjoying your ice cream in silence as you walk side by side. You both walk for about a block—his footsteps match yours and yours matches his. 

You’re the one who speaks up first. “Thank you for the ice cream.”

“It’s just ice cream, (Y/N),” he says. 

“Still,” you start to say. “Considering I practically pushed you into inviting me out—” 

“You didn’t push me. I wanted to invite you.” 

You look to him, simply giving him a small smile. “Thank you.” 

The two of you continue your walk back to the venue, but you abruptly stop and tug on Namjoon’s sleeve. 

“What’s up?” 

You point to an open park and, with another hand, you lightly shake his arm like an excited child. “Let’s go in there.” 

He smiles at the sight. “Okay, let’s go.” 

Your eyes gleam at him and you’re practically wiggling with excitement, before you sprint over towards the park gates like a child. 

He shakes his head with a chuckle as he follows behind you. By the time he’s caught up with you, you’re already settled underneath a nearby tree with a view of the lake. He heads towards you in long strides and silently seats himself next to you. 

You’ve already finished your ice cream—its remains left on the side. Namjoon manages to finish his, which isn’t hard considering how it’s half melted and less cold. White noise plays as you two sit back and relax. There’s a couple of bikers, dog walkers, and other couples that occupy the public space. But, for most of the time, it’s just the two of you in silence. 

It’s broken once you let out a loud breath and fall back onto the grass. You shift a bit, trying to make yourself comfortable, and tap the empty space behind him. “Come on, Joonie. It’s just me.” 

“Okay, okay,” he says. “Just give me a sec.” 

He leans back, feeling the prickly grass brush against his neck, and rests his hands behind his head. You frown from the distance, easily pulling his arm and resting your head on it, scooting closer to him. 

His breath gets caught in his throat from your proximity, but he doesn’t move away—almost in a near frozen state as you continue to lean on him. Right now, all he hopes is that you can’t hear how hard his heart is anxiously beating in his chest. 

Instead, he tries to focus on the clear evening sky. It would have been nice for the stars to be out, but this is just as fine (although, the view can be done without all the red helicopter lights that pass by). 

You let out a sigh, feeling a lot more sober compared to before. “Time is weird, huh?” 

“What’d you mean?” 

“It’s just—” You pause. “One moment, we’re just college students messing around and now we’re adults, doing things like jobs and going to the post office or something.” 

He chuckles. “The post office?” 

“Ugh.” You lightly hit him to get him to stop laughing. “You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh of his own. “I get it. It’s just… we’re grown ups—” 

“Ew, please don’t say that.” 

He chuckles again. “Look at us though. Could you have even imagined telling your younger self that the most eventful thing you’ve done this week is go to a wedding?” 

“Weddings can be fun,” you try to defend. “There’s free food and good music.”

“Good music?” 

“Better music than all those cringey ass middle school mixers.” 

“You’re right about that,” he says. “I think I’ll die if I hear another remix of a top 40 hit song again.” 

“You know which remix I hated the most?” 

“Which one?” 

“Love You Like A Love Song club remix.” 

He lets out a hearty laugh from your answer. “I didn’t know that was a remix.” 

“It is and it’s absolutely terrible. They did Selena so dirty.” 

“Did they now?” 

“Absolutely, Joonie. It’s a fucking monstrosity.” 

You look dead serious, which is probably what makes him laugh even harder than before. His laugh dies down to a chuckle. There’s another moment of silence afterwards, the two of you focusing your attention on the calm atmosphere from the silence of the park and the calm waters that lightly splash from a safe distance. 

The silence is interrupted as your phone goes off. Namjoon watches as you simply take the phone that was placed next to you. The light of the phone shines against your features briefly before you turn it back off. 

You make eye contact with him and he has to turn away, clearing his throat from being caught. “What’s up?” he asks. 

“Nothing really,” you say. “I just got a reminder for another wedding I have to go to.” You wave your phone, despite the blank, black scene. “I have to RSVP later… at some point.” 

He hums, understanding the situation. Suddenly, you sit up as you shake him lightly, causing him to sit up as well. 

“What?” he asks with apprehension. 

There’s a glint in your eyes that Namjoon is unsure as to whether or not he likes. 

“Remember that favor you owe me?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You wanna come to my friend’s wedding with me?” 

He leans back with a hand on the grass, contemplating whether or not he should. Would this count as a date? Nevertheless, an unofficial third date? 

He does owe you a favor too… 

So, it makes sense for him to accompany you to return the favor. 

He finally looks to you, whose head is tilted towards him in curiosity with a smile that shines brighter than the sun and eyes that sparkle more than any star in the sky. 

“Come on, Joonie. It’ll be fun.” 

“Count me in,” he says. “Consider it a favor being repaid.” 

Your smile turns into a beam before you settle back onto the grass with your eyes closed. “Let’s stay here a little longer.” You sigh. “I’m going to keep you for a bit, before I have to share you again.” 

He lets out a sigh of his own, but you don’t hear it. 

He’s already yours for the taking.

April 18th, 2020 

Saturday, 9PM 

Tiffany’s Reception 

Rosey Pink Palace

—

“I’ve known Tiffany for over ten years,” Jessica says. “I’ve lived with her, worked with her, and that meant learning a lot about her, as a person and a professional. She’s someone who finds the balance between idealistic and realistic. She has been looking forward to finding her Prince Charming and now she gets to have her fairytale ending. I have never seen Tiffany as happy as I’ve seen her with Kaun Yin.” She pauses, looking at the two. “So, let’s raise a glass to congratulate the Pink Princess for finding her Prince Charming.” 

The other guests give a light round of applause for Jessica, who gives another wave and smile—before she takes back her seat at the main table. Conversation is sparked once again amongst the guests. 

At your table, Namjoon makes small talk with some of the others at the table (mainly those who he’d previously met at Junmyeon’s wedding). Despite the fact that this is your friend’s wedding, which is filled with literal strangers and acquaintances, he’s managed to mingle fairly well without your guidance. But that’s also the reason why he’s been dragged into a conversation with another table—i.e., the table behind him. 

“Tiffany and I went out for ice cream once and she basically shamed me for not getting sprinkles,” Evan says. “I’m betting her cake is going to be the most colorful thing in the venue.” 

“The pinks aren’t colorful enough for you?” Nichkhun asks with a teasing smile. 

Namjoon lets out a laugh. “It’s called the Pink Palace, what other color did you—could you have expected?” 

“I thought maybe Kuan Yin would convince her to other colors,” Evan says. He lets out a sigh, swirling his wine glass. “I blame my optimism.” 

“If you know anything about Tiffany,” Nichkhun says. “Then you would know that no one could convince her out of something once her mind is set.” 

“How long have you known her?” Namjoon asks. “I bet it’s been some time now.” 

The handsome man ponders for a bit. “Probably about half a decade now,” he says. “Another one of my friends knew her and… we’ve been friends ever since.” 

“That’s a long time,” Evan says. “I’ve only known her for a couple of years. She helped me out with some of my Youtube videos.” He sips on his glass. “She did a makeover for me once.” He turns to Namjoon. “How long have you known her?” 

“Oh, I’m just a….” He tries to think of the word. Technically, he’s a date, so he should say date…. right? Something inside stops him from saying so though. “I’m just a plus one.” 

“Oh?” Nichkhun says with a tilt of his head. “Of who?” 

At that moment, you take back your seat next to Namjoon. You easily settle back in, giving him a smile, before noticing the other two. “Sorry, there was a line at the bathroom. Did I interrupt something?” 

“Not really,” Evan says. He points to Namjoon. “Is he with you?” 

“Yeah,” you say with a smile. “He’s my date.” 

He nearly chokes on his water at your words, but your smile just grows when you look at him. Before he can respond, the conversations come to a bit of a pause as the newlywed wife gets up from her spot, stealing the crowd’s attention. 

Tiffany makes her way up the main stage with a bedazzled, pink microphone in one hand and her dress in the other; Kuan Yin follows behind her with a hand holding the rest of her train, making sure she doesn’t trip on her way up the stairs. 

“Hello?” She taps on the microphone to double check. “Everyone, thank you so much for coming. We’re so glad you were able to make it. Let’s give one more round of applause for the maid of honor!” 

There’s another round of applause for Jessica and, once it dies down, Kuan Yin speaks into the microphone that remains in Tiffany’s hands. “She’s done a lot for us this past month and we’d like to thank her again for her hard work.” 

“Right now, we’re preparing for the cake cutting!” she says with a giggle. “Our wonderful servers are getting the cake ready and it will soon be out!” 

More light applause breaks the silence once more and, in a second, the two servers emerge from the kitchen with a rolling cart. 

On top of the cart is a three-tiered cake, various shades of pink are dotted around and smeared to look like a sophisticated art palette. Edible, at least what Namjoon thinks, glitter is decorated along the side and sparkles in the light. White frosting is decorated on the edges and sprinkles top them off. 

Well, Evan was right about one thing; it is colorful. 

You lean over towards Namjoon. “I’m betting there’s glitter inside the cake too.” 

“I’m willing to get into that bet too,” Nichkhun says. 

Namjoon and Evan laugh. 

On the other hand, Tiffany and Kuan Yin are already cutting the cake and passing it to the servers, who are immediately placing it on trays to serve to the other guests. You let out a little cheer once yours arrives. Next to you, Bora takes pictures of the slice that sits on her plate, showing them to both you and Na Eun, who’s sitting at her other side. 

“I’m glad she got the red velvet,” Bora says. 

“Yeah, it fits the aesthetic,” Na Eun replies. “And it definitely screams Tiffany.” 

You pick at yours a bit, splitting the cake to see the rest of the batter. “I totally called it. I knew there was gonna be glitter inside!” 

Namjoon just shakes his head, before grabbing a hold of his fork and diving into his dessert. 

As the cake is cut and distributed, the conversation builds up again and the sugar has started to hit. Your plate is cleared, but Namjoon can’t get past all the sprinkles (which is why they’ve been abandoned on the side of his plate and you took that chance to poke some fun out of him). 

In the midst of all the chatter, the newlyweds return back to the stage, along with Jessica, after the cake-cutting—with Taeyeon behind them, who has begun to set up the stage. 

“I would just like to thank all the guests, once more, who are here to support Tiffany and Kuan Yin,” Jessica says. “Right now, we have Taeyeon, another bridesmaid, who will be singing the song to their first dance!” 

Another round of light applause is given as Taeyeon gives a smile and wave. Meanwhile, Tiffany and Kuan Yin have arrived in the middle of the dance floor, looking at one another with so much love. Namjoon couldn’t help but be a bit envious. 

“Congratulations once more to the happy couple,” Taeyeon says. “This song is for you—I hope your happiness will carry on for the rest of your lives.” 

The guitarist starts to strum to a soft melody and Taeyon’s soothing voice starts to move throughout the venue. Other guests start to make their way to the dance floor as well, joining the slow dance. Namjoon moves his head along to the calm tune, swaying to it with his eyes closed. 

He hears your chair move and he peaks an eye open, only to see you standing with a hand out to him. 

“Would you like to join me for a dance?” 

“I thought we agreed I should never be dancing,” he jokes. 

You pout, putting your hand down. “We’ve been to so many weddings and haven’t danced once.” You put your hand out once more, wiggling your fingers underneath his chin. “Is little Joonie afraid?” 

“We both know I’m not the best dancer.” 

Your pout deepens and you take your hand away again. He has to stop himself from leaning back to your touch. 

“That’s your insecurity talking,” you say. “Besides you don’t know until you try.”

He lets out a sigh, hiding a smile, and wordlessly puts out his hand for you. “Okay, (Y/N). I trust you. Please lead the way.” 

Your pout turns back to a smile, easily grabbing his hand and leading him towards the bright tiles where the other guests are dancing. 

Taking the initiative, as per usual, you put his hands on your waist and lightly place your hands on his shoulders. He hopes you don’t notice how shaky his hands are, or how much more sweaty his palms have gotten. His heart pounds even harder in his chest from the close proximity.

He let out an exhale, trying to keep it under his breath to avoid hitting your face with his glittery cake breath. Despite being friends for the longest time, Namjoon can’t remember a time he’d been this close to you. There had been a couple of times when you would drunkenly cling to him or the time you asked for a piggyback ride… But he’s never seen you like this upclose. 

Under the sparkling lights, he can make out your features. Your eyes shine with excitement and anticipation, but he can’t tell from what. The way the slope of your nose dips is pretty, he notes—he’s never noticed. Your lips… they practically mock him. 

He can feel his throat feeling dry again. Where are the champagne flutes when he needs them? 

Even as he tries to avoid eye contact, your eyes don’t leave his face. A teasing smile appears when you take notice of his darkening cheeks. 

“What’s wrong?” you jib. “You’re doing good. Are you focusing all of your brain cells into your dancing?” 

He rolls his eyes at you, but it’s without malice. “Haha,” he says. “You know I didn’t have that many to begin with.” 

“You have 148 IQ.” 

“Let it go, (Y/N).” He sighs. “Let it go.” 

This time you roll your eyes at him, giving him a light shove. “You’re literally so smart. You need to embrace that more.” 

“Don’t get too cocky on my behalf,” he says. “I think I got burnt out by the time we graduated.” 

“Everyone gets burnt out,” you say. “Whether it’s emotionally, physically… Life has a way of doing that to you.” You lean a bit closer, settling your hands on the back of his neck. “What you choose to afterwards is how you decide its impact on you.” 

He straightens up a bit, but doesn’t necessarily move away from you, putting himself in a more comfortable position. “You don’t ever seem burnt out,” he says. “I wish I had that endless energy. I might actually be able to do something productive with my life.” 

“Hey,” you say. “You’re doing it again.” 

“Doing what?” 

“Downplaying your abilities.” You let out a sigh. “You did it, not even, two minutes ago. You haven’t even stepped on my foot; you’re going just fine.” 

He feels the heat on the back of his neck, hoping you don’t say anything about it. “Not yet, at least. Have you forgotten that tango class I accidentally registered for?” 

You grin from the memory. “Considering that we were able to grow closer from it and it was required, not accidental… I have not.” You tilt your head at him. “But did you forget?” 

“Forget what?” 

“How much you improved by the time the semester ended.” 

“I don’t know, (Y/N),” he says. “I didn’t get worse and that was all I was aiming for.” 

“Sure, you weren’t perfect, but you were pretty good by the end of it. Admit that, at least.” 

“Fine, I was pretty good at it.” He looks directly at you. “Satisfied?” 

“Not really, but I’ll take it.” 

The two of you sway for a bit, listening to the music and enjoying each other’s company. At some point, you lean against him with closed eyes. He smiles to himself, subconsciously pulling you closer and breathing in the faint scent of your shampoo. Letting out another sigh, he can’t help but think of himself that he could get used to you in his arms. 

April 28th, 2020

Tuesday, 4PM 

The Roasted Bean

—

“Do you want to come to China with me?” 

You choke on your tea. “Shit,” you manage to cough out with. 

Namjoon scrambles to pass you the napkins and can only look at you with concern as you continue to cough. He waits for you patiently, expecting this kind of response from you.

When you had agreed to meet up with him for coffee, Namjoon said to himself he was going to plan what he would say to you… cut to the day of and he had planned nothing except, well, that. 

Damn, procrastination really doesn’t stop. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. You dab the corners of your mouth, trying to wipe off the remains of the tea that spilled from your lips. Your hands settle on the table as you look at him incredulously. “Did I hear that correctly?” 

“In hindsight, maybe I should have provided some context.” 

“A little would have been nice,” you say with a slight shrug. 

He lets out a sigh, shifting in his seat. “I’m going to Jackson’s wedding,” he says. “... which is located in Hong Kong. I made the reservation awhile back, so I took a couple of vacation days to go to it and join them in the festivities. I even got Jungkook to dogsit RapMon, but, then again, that could easily go downhill. But, I thought, you know, since we’re, like, wedding buddies, you might want to go with me?” 

“Wedding buddies?” you ask with a raise of your eyebrow. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.” You take another sip of your tea. 

“It’ll be fun?” he says with an awkward smile. “Besides, you know Jackson.”

“I’ve met him a couple of times, yeah.” You take another sip from your cup. “I obviously wasn’t close enough to get an invite, but I know him.” You try to think, as if you were pondering the pros and cons. “I do know some people who were going to be in the wedding too.” 

“You do?” He shouldn’t be surprised, but couldn’t help the curiosity. 

“Yeah, there’s Mark. There’s also Jinyoung and Youngji.” 

“Even if you didn’t know anyone,” he says. “It’s not like you won’t make new friends.” 

You give him a shy, but proud smile in return. “I do adapt well.” Your eyebrows round from a realization. “Wait.” You give him a confused look. “You were originally planning on going to China…. by yourself?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks with a slight pout. “Is it a bad idea?” 

“No,” you say. “Rather the opposite.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“How do I say it?” you mutter, more to yourself than aloud. “I guess—it might just be because I know what you’re like.” 

“... Elaborate.” 

“It’s not supposed to be a bad thing. It’s just that—I say this with affection, okay?” You clear your throat a little and lean back into your seat. “You don’t really leave your comfort zone, which isn’t a bad thing—it’s just a bit surprising that you are willing to leave the comforts of your home.” He doesn’t get the chance to respond; you continue to talk. “But, another thing I know is you’re fierce loyal, so it’s not necessarily that surprising. Even then, it’s a good surprise because this might be good for you.” 

There’s a brief pause as he thinks to himself, absentmindedly swirling the remains of his coffee from his glass. You’re right (with both of your points). It’s not that he’s offended, or mad. It’s just that… you’re right. That’s it. 

He knows he’s more of an introvert, which isn’t a bad thing—he just takes a bit longer to adjust to new surroundings and unfamiliar people. He’s very self-aware of it rather than self-conscious about it. To be honest, he really didn’t think things through all the way; he couldn’t say no to Jackson, especially considering how close they are with one another. The thought of brushing up on his Chinese also crossed his mind momentarily, but this trip is really more about supporting Jackson and Hua Yi. 

“Namjoon?” 

He freezes, snapping out of his thoughts. “Sorry, I just, like, spaced out.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, just lost in thought.” He clears his throat. “What were you saying?” 

“Nothing of that much importance, but—” You pause. “I just think this would be good for you, you know? You’d get some time off from work, get together with your friends, explore a new place, etc.” 

“It’s just a week or so,” he says. “It’s not much, but… it’s something.” 

“Yeah, but you never know.” 

He hums, agreeing with you, as he taps his fingers lightly against the table. The tapping stops. “Wait, you never answered my question.” 

“Wait, what was the question?”

  He chuckles. “Did you want to accompany me to Jackson’s wedding in China?” 

“Well,” you drag out, fiddling with your napkin. “I would need to see all the details, figure out a couple of things, but, overall…” You practically beam at him. “I’d love to.”

May 13th, 2020 

Wednesday, 9AM 

East Asian Airlines

Incheon International Airport

—

You nearly elbow him as you try to settle into your seat. Your neck pillow barely hangs on your shoulders, as you reach over to adjust the incline and decline with one hand and manage your downloaded playlist on your phone with the other. 

“Whoa,” Namjoon says, trying to escape from your flailing arms. “You know this isn’t an overnight flight, right?” 

You let out an exasperated exhale that’s far more dramatic than it needed to be. “Joonie, comfort is always a priority.” 

“I didn’t say anything was wrong with comfort,” he started to say. “I’m just saying it’s a bit much for a four hour flight that you’re 100% going to fall asleep on.” 

Your jaw drops. “The audacity.” 

“Am I wrong?” 

Your jaw promptly closes at his words, your lips twisting to the side. “No,” you mutter.

He lets out a laugh, patting your head as some type of reconciliation—messing it up a bit. “Sorry, I only speak the truth.” 

You grumble in your seat once more, playfully glaring at him with a petty look in your eyes. Without breaking eye contact, you lightly slap his hand away and start to fix the mess he created on your head. “Says the man who told Taehyung he looked handsome after his home haircut, but okay. Pop off.” 

His eyes narrow at your sarcasm, but he doesn’t say another word. 

While you fiddle with the light and air conditioning functions above, he plucks out an airline magazine from the seat in front of him—in an attempt to ignore the numbness of his long legs due to the small, cramped area he’s been provided. 

Curse this capitalistic society and the stupid economy seats. 

He flips open a page, glancing through. Most of the pages are promotions for products that no one really needs. There’s also an absurd amount of pillows that they were insisting to be sold. Who needs a pillow that can work as a lap-desk? Or a bendable neck pillow that can be twisted into a hugging pillow? There’s also a pillow that can be folded into a miniature pillow. These are all awful, he thinks. 

As he inwardly questions and critiques each product, he fails to notice that you’ve finished settling in, tugging on his jacket to get his attention. 

“What’s up?” he asks without looking up. “Finally settled?” 

“Say all you want, Joonie, but when I’m napping like a champ, you’ll be restless in your spot like a chump.” 

He stifles his laughter, raising his eyebrows from your words, flipping through the pages without actually looking through them. “Okay, (Y/N). Whatever you say.” In his peripheral vision, he can see you pouting from his lack of reaction. 

You lean back in your seat, taking another deep breath. “You know, I think this is the first time we’re traveling together, isn’t it?” 

“I think it is.” He looks at you. “This is our first trip together.” 

“Well, first overseas trip.” 

“First overseas trip,” he says with a hum. “You think there’ll be more?” 

You smirk. “Only if this one is a success. But, for now, we’re just wedding buddies.” 

“Wedding buddies?” He lays a hand on his heart in mock hurt. “We’ve known each other for years and this is what our relationship has come to?” 

“You defined it first,” you say with a poke of his chest. “If anyone is to blame, it’s you.” 

His lips are pulled back—half frustrated at himself and half disappointed. Before he can retort, the bell has been rung and the attendant’s voice comes on over the intercom. 

“All passengers, please take your seats as we are taking off at 9AM sharp.” 

Another bell rings and the seatbelt image flashes on. The attendants go around, checking the seatbelts and others begin to start the safety procedures. Namjoon tries to remember it all, but eventually finds himself accidentally tuning out the information. Sensing his panic, you remind him that it’s also in the same pocket he’d been grabbing magazines out of. 

After a little while, the plane starts to ascend. Both you and Namjoon wordlessly look out the window, taking in the view as the buildings get smaller and smaller. Once the captain had announced that passengers are now allowed to roam about the cabin (with reason, of course), you lean back in your seat and plop in your other headphone. 

“Wake me up when we’re descending?” you ask. 

He nods, letting you play your music and close your eyes. About twenty minutes pass and you’re already asleep, But, your neck pillow is still barely hanging on your shoulders. He manages to adjust it comfortably for you, without waking you up—he’d call that a victory for his clumsy ass. 

To pass some time, he goes through some more magazines, eventually getting bored of them. He should’ve downloaded a playlist or something; granted, you did nag him a bit to do so at the terminal gate because you didn’t want him being bored on the plane. 

As usual, you were right. 

He looks over at you once more, before deciding that he should nap too. 

If he’s being honest, he was too nervous last night to get any sleep at the thought of spending, nearly, an entire week with you… in an unfamiliar country. He really didn’t think these things through. On one hand, it’s normal to invite long-time friends on trips and go to events together, platonically. On the other hand, he technically had feelings for you. But, he also thought those feelings had died down… until he actually started to talk to you again. 

Deep down, he knows the feelings never really died but that’s a conversation he’s not ready to engage in. But, he’s also aware that he’s stupid and lacked the brain cells to even think of the possible cons that would come when he invited you to an overseas wedding...

Sleep, Namjoon thinks. Sleep is great for avoiding problems like these. 

He lets out a long sigh, settling into his seat with a close of his eyes. 

Yes, sleep is the best solution. 

...

Ding. “Passengers, you will need to return to your seats soon as we are close to our destination.” Ding. 

As Namjoon starts to regain consciousness, the light from his window that shines on his face stirs him awake. He lets out a sigh, lifting his head from yours as he rubs his eyes. You remain asleep on his shoulder with your headphones still intact, but your neck pillow sits uselessly in your lap. 

He’s suddenly awake and aware of your current position. He unconsciously clears his throat, instantly feeling thirsty, causing you to shift a bit closer to him. 

The intercom comes on once more. “Once again, passengers, if you could please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts, we’re going to begin to descend soon.” 

From the announcement, he lightly shakes you. “(Y/N),” he whispers. 

When it doesn’t work, he shakes you a bit harder. “(Y/N).” 

You let out a groan from being awoken. “Ten more minutes.” 

He shakes you again with a bit of a laugh. “You don’t have ten minutes.” 

“Give me ten minutes then.” 

“No, wake up.” 

“No.” 

“(Y/N),” he whines. “Wake up.” 

You let out another groan, reluctantly opening your eyes—immediately shutting them from the bright lights of the afternoon sky. “Are we there yet?” 

“Nearly,” he says. “Why did you think I woke you up?” 

“To torture me?” 

“I wouldn’t do that to my precious wedding buddy.”

“Damn,” you say. “Your sass levels are up.” 

He laughs in response. 

Your conversation is interrupted as the bell rings once again, the attendant’s voice filling the air. 

“All passengers, we are descending to our destination.” 

You let a small squeal of excitement from the official announcement, leaning out towards the window to take in the new sights. He can’t help but smile at your childlike wonder, moving himself out of the way for you to take in the scenery as the clouds start to part. 

“We apologize that there will be a bit of turbulence, so if you may all please fasten your seatbelts for your safety. Once again, we are starting our descent—passengers, we welcome you to Hong Kong. Thank you for choosing to fly with East Asian Airlines. We hope you’ve had a wonderful trip.” 

A/N: Thank you for reading the first part of Plus Two! Please do not ask about updates—you can check the upcoming page to check on the status of the second half! 

[creativeskullcreations]

Chapter 10: A Real Guilty Feeling

Hey everybody, here's chapter 10! But, unfortunately, it'll be the last chapter you see for a while. I need to take a break from writing for a while, do something else and recharge a bit. Maybe also knock out some drawings too while I'm at it.

Current timeline is looking like this: Couple of weeks without writing, and then maybe build up a bit of a buffer of chapters for <i>Outside</i>. But first, I'll be working on episode 2 of <i>Happy Times at Handeemen HQ</i>. Y'all are starting to show an interest in that, and I wanna put something new out for it.

If you want to keep updated, or even just see what I'm drawing, you can follow my art Tumblr here. Also check out my YouTube, in case of livestreams or speedpaints!(Am I plugging my own stuff too much?)

Whenever I'm ready to start posting again, I'll make sure to leave an announcement on here.

I'll see y'all later.

When Will got home, he dumped Stacy's stuff and scout on the couch. He then pointed out his locked workroom, and told her that she was never to go in there no matter what. That done, he left her to her own devices, and went off to bed. He took off his shirt and jeans, then crawled under the sheets. The last thing he did before passing out was shoot off a message to the group chat about how DnD Night was canceled until further notice.

When he woke up, far too few hours later, it was to a light weight on his chest. He stared at Scout for a moment, then picked her up and dropped her on the floor, rolling onto his front. He grabbed his phone, squinting at the too bright screen. Several messages were in the chat, and he sighed as he opened it up and scrolled to the top.

Masonary: um, excuse me?! i asked for that day off u can't cancel!!! somebody better be dead! D:<

Blooming_Stitches: Mason, shut up. We don't know what could be going on.

drWEED420: ugh, stacy. I told you to call me.

Masonary: y would stacy need to call u sam?

Masonary: is it because she hacked ur account and changed ur name again?

 drWEED420 has changed their name to DrSamIAm

DrSamIAm: no but it is something we'll going to talk abaout.

Will_and_a_Way: Stace is in the hospital for infected surgery stitches

Blooming_Stitches: I'M SORRY WHAT

Masonry: dude i was joking about som1 being dead

DrSamIAm: goddamit stacy

 DrSamIAm has left the chat We're ALL Idiots Here

Masonry: ok first of all what happened to stacy

Masonry: second who changed the chat name again?

Blooming_Stitches: lol

Will sighed, the went into his phone and pulled up his drop box, where he'd sneaked the file into a while ago. He hesitated briefly, then sent it to the chat. Stacy could be mad at him later, but he was too tired to think up a cover story for her right now.

 Will_and_a_Way posted a file in We're ALL Idiots Here

Masonry: ?

Blooming_Stitches: !

Will_and_a_Way: read that if you guys want to know what happned.

Will_and_a_Way: I'm going back to sleep now try not to kill each other

He clicked his phone off, dropping it to his mattress and letting his head fall on his pillow. Within seconds he was back asleep, completely oblivious to Scout Jumping back on his bed and climbing onto his back. She curled around the small Kirby toy, using it as a pillow as she settled back into sleep herself.

()()()

When Will woke up again, it was to a light weight in the center of his back, right below his shoulder blades. He huffed, glaring at the wall. He took a deep breath, then heaved himself up with all his strength. As predicted, Scout was catapulted off, and he quickly got out of bed, heading to the kitchen.

He made himself some toast, checking his phone on the way. The group chat was mostly just full of the various reactions from Lisa and Mason. Sammy had come back at some point, going on a rant about what Stacy hadn't told him.

He read over the various comments as he  ate, able to tell where they were in the document. Unsurprisingly, Mason finished it first, and Lisa was intent on meeting Scout. Sammy had told her Scout was nothing special, which Will privately agreed with. He finished the back reading and, seeing as nobody was online at the moment, locked his phone again. He picked up his toast and moved into his work room for the time being, deciding to get something done.

It was easy, really, for Will to get lost in his work. Dissecting the "toys" he brought home, taking them apart and recording it in his notes. He was currently working on the body of the head he'd been looking at last night. The brown, fuzzy thing was strapped securely onto the table, the front having been sawed apart and spread open.

He shifted through the innards, making careful, detailed notes about what was in there. He would compare them to the stolen blueprints later, figure out what was supposed to be in there and what wasn't. For now, though, the intention was to make a catalogue of parts.

When his phone alarm finally went off, signalling it was lunch time, he straightened up with a sigh. He pulled off his rubber gloves and, making sure the straps on the table were tight, went out to the kitchen. He made himself a simple sandwich, eating it in the kitchen as he glanced through the group chat. Mason and Lisa were on and currently discussing things, but Sam hadn't been on again since his rant.

He lurked a bit longer after he finished his sandwich, then got up to go back to work. On the way through the living room, he paused when he saw Scout sitting on the couch. She was curled up in the corner, Kirby plush on her lap as she stared at it. Even as a Puppet, he recognized the look on her face as one Stacy had often worn in the first year after her mother had died.

'Why the hell do I feel so bad for that thing?' He sighed, rubbing at his face. Making a snap decision, he went over to his DVD shelf and pulled out The Iron Giant.  He turned on the TV and player, then loaded in the movie, skipping the previews. When he reached the main menu, he selected play and dropped the remote near Scout. He then left, heading back towards the basement and his work.

Scout watched go, staring silently after him as he once again disappeared behind the locked door. She didn't even try to follow him, instead settling in to watch the show he'd turned on. With any luck, it would be violent and/or funny enough to take her mind off of things.

()()()

'That is the saddest shit I have ever seen...' She sniffed, rubbing at her frustratingly dry eyes. 'I can't believe he let himself get blown up like that. What the fuck.' She rubbed at her eyes some more, then tried to figure out how to choose a different show. When she couldn't figure it out, she threw the remote down in frustration. 'Fuck it! Where's Will?'

She Jumped from the couch, heading over to the locked door. She peered in the crack between the door and the floor, but couldn't see anything. She could hear, however, and what she heard were power tools. The sound sent a shock through her system, dredging up unwanted memories of Riley's lab. She drew back, then jumped onto a nearby table when the noise stopped. Thinking quickly, she opened the drawer that was there and tried to pretend that she had been going through it.

Will came out of the room a minute later, wiping his hands with a dirty towel. He glared when he saw what she was "doing". "What the hell are you doing? Get out of there!" It wasn't quite yelling, but his voice was definitely louder than it needed to be. Scout suppressed her fear and scoffed.

"Fine. There wasn't anything but batteries in there anyways." She slammed the drawer closed, feeling a small, petty joy in how the contents rattled around when she did. She watched him cross to his bedroom and, when he'd closed his door, opened the drawer back up in order to snoop for real.

Batteries, keys, some weird plastic clips, and other odds and ends she didn't have words for had been organized neatly in the drawer. Working quickly, she shuffled everything around even more, then shoved a handful of what was sitting on the table into the drawer. She then closed it again and sat back as innocently as she could, tilting the shade of the lamp next to her. When Will came back out, now dressed in different clothes, he sighed and fixed the shade.

She watched as he gathered up a couple of things, then came over and grabbed up a set of keys she hadn't dumped into the drawer. There was a pause, or maybe more of a hesitation, and then he scooped her up and left the house, ignoring her protests.

"Hey! Hey lemme go! H-mmph?!" He easily covered her mouth with one hand as he locked the door. He made his way to his car, not letting her go into he'd climbed in and dumped her in the passenger seat. "What was that for?!"

"Okay, here's the deal." He told her, ignoring the question. "We're going to go see Stacy. To do that, we have to go through a whole hospital full of people. And you will be quiet and good the whole time, or you will be going out the nearest window."

"We're going to go see Stacy..." That was the one thing she had really comprehended. Her Host was alive, Scout knew she had to be. If she wasn't, then the Puppet wouldn't have long to-

It didn't matter. She didn't matter, not after what almost happened. Not after what she almost did, accidentally or not.

She was jolted out of her thoughts as Will started the car, realizing belatedly that he'd continued talking to her. She hoped he hadn't noticed she wasn't paying attention. Whatever he'd been doing behind that door, she did not want to become his next patient.

In the silence of the car ride, Scout easily lost herself in the thoughts swirling through her head. The most prominent were thoughts of guilt, knowing she was to blame for this and wondering where she had gone wrong. Maybe she hadn't tried as hard as she should've to subjugate her Host back in the Studio? Or maybe she shouldn't have stayed with her after they escaped. Maybe she should have left after making sure Stacy was okay.

'Maybe I should leave anyways.'

She missed it when Will parked, only noticing when he picked her up. She let herself stay limp, though not so much out of compliance than a desire to try and keep working on the plan that had come to mind.

Vaguely, she was aware of the clean white halls Will was taking her through, as well as a nauseating smell that reminded her of Riley. A few other unclaimed Hosts like Will, though wearing clothing that, again, reminded Scout of Riley. She watched  those ones carefully, just in case. She may not like Will, but Stacy did and she didn't want something to happen to him.

Will came up to a door, opening it and peeking inside. Scout tried to look, but could only see the very end of a weird looking bed. Whatever he saw he seemed to like, as he fully entered the room, kicking the door closed behind him and approaching the bed.

"Hey Stacy." He began quietly, and Scout felt her stuffing go cold at the sight of her Host in the bed. Her normally warm brown skin was several shades paler, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She was mostly upright, though leaning heavily against the pillows behind her. The scariest thing, though, were the several tubes connecting her to various machines by the bed.

Scout felt another cold rush of guilt when she saw how Stacy's eyes lit up when she spotted them. She waited for her to say something, anything, but the Host didn't speak, instead lifting her hands to use that weird hand language.

"She can't talk right now." Will translated. "She had to be intubated and her throat still hurts. But, for some reason, she's happy to see you." He sounded annoyed by that, and Scout couldn't help but be confused. Surely Stacy knew about what she did.

'Unless she doesn't.' The Puppet realized. 'She doesn't know shit about how it works. She had no idea what I almost did to her.' Somehow, that didn't make it any better.

Against her will, she was handed over to Stacy so Will could go set down the bags. Stacy hugged her tight, and Scout couldn't help but curl up in her hold, clutching at the weird shirt she was wearing.

She ignored the humans as they talked, or rather as Will talked and Stacy did one handed signing. Instead she stared at the tubing connected to Stacy's arm, watching the clear liquid slowly drip it's way into her body. She didn't know how long she stared for, but she must've dozed off at one point because she suddenly became aware of her hair being stroked.

It couldn't have been too long, as the room was still bright, though she couldn't hear Will anymore. Instead there was a quiet, steady beeping that matched up with Stacy's heartbeat. It was relaxing, and brought up memories of when Scout had first woken up, all those years ago. Before she'd been made to take part in Riley's "tests", or found that TV. Even before she'd met her siblings and learned who and what she really was. Those first few moments when it had just been her and Daisy, enjoying the gift of life.

She almost wished she could go back to that point. Things were so much better back then, when her world consisted of Daisy's sewing room and her siblings. When she didn't have a Host to worry about accidentally killing, or her own people coming after her.

But she wouldn't have to worry about that for long. If her plan ended up working, Stacy wouldn't be in danger ever again.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Can we have the tea on why firefly getting cancelled was a good call tho?

My confidence on this website grows in direct proportion to my follower count, and thus the opinions I post get steadily more controversial.  I actually got a mostly-positive response to my pro-Twilight post, so [glances around nervously] [dons fake beard] here it is:

IMHO, the producers were right to meddle in Firefly after its pilot, and they were right to cancel it after 12 episodes.

I enjoy Firefly.  I’ve rewatched “Safe” and “Out of Gas” over a dozen times, I had a Serenity poster on my wall in college, and I’ve got Mal’s quote about statues as an epigraph in my current NaNoWriMo project.  However.

First: they were right to kill the pilot.  (And I don’t mean Wash.)

The biggest problem with the first first episode, in a nutshell, is Mal.  He’s a potentially intriguing character, but he’s not likable, he’s not competent, and he’s not entertaining.  No antihero has to be all three, but every antihero has to be at least one, right off the bat.  A couple examples of antiheroes that got whole shows:

Dexter Morgan (Dexter) is a literal serial killer, so definitely not likable, but the pilot showcases that he’s terrifyingly competent with cellophane and also has an entertaining interior monologue.

Greg House (House MD) is questionably competent, and not that likable, but he’s highly entertaining because he immediately makes us laugh.

Jed Bartlett (West Wing) is largely incompetent at social matters, and he’s not funny at first, but he’s immediately charismatic and likable.

Frank Castle (Punisher) isn’t classically entertaining, and he’s not likable, but he’s shown as highly competent from minute one.

Malcolm Reynolds isn’t funny at first.  He responds to insults by punching Simon in the face or throwing Jayne out of the room, barely tolerates Zoe’s fond teasing, and doesn’t joke around much.  Malcolm Reynolds isn’t likable at first.  He acts openly contemptuous toward Book’s and Inara’s chosen professions, seriously considers killing Simon for trying to protect River, loots corpses, and ignores Kaylee.  Malcolm Reynolds isn’t competent at first.  He fails twice to find a fence for the protein blocks, fails to detect either Simon’s or Dobson’s lies, gets himself and his first mate shot in a bad deal, and barely escapes with his life.  He tells Simon that any day where he manages to keep his ship in the air counts as a success.

I don’t want to watch an entire show about this guy after seeing just the pilot, and I sympathize with anyone who feels the same way.  The only moment in 120 minutes of screentime that intrigues me is the smash cut between Mal announcing to Simon that Kaylee died and Mal roaring with laughter with the rest of his crew over a prank well-pulled.  It’s competent, funny, likable, and enough to make me want to tolerate this guy long enough to see what he’s going to do next.  I don’t blame the producers for demanding that we see Simon-pranking guy more, Simon-punching guy less.

The other tone or setting inconsistencies in the pilot — the characters riding horses when they’ve got a faster-than-light ship, the dirt and platinum constructions, the Chinese vendors offering street meat made out of dog, the heroic depiction of the vainglorious Confederate Browncoat cause, the crew all being fluent in Mandarin but not having a single Asian character in the whole cast* — make it hard to get a sense of what the show is meant to be.  The different elements just don’t make sense together.

Contrast that with “The Train Job,” the second first episode.  There are undeniably Western and sci-fi elements, but they actually make sense together: instead of characters inexplicably swapping land speeders for horses, there’s a spaceship swooping low over a bullet train.  Crow uses frontier weaponry, but it’s an intimidation tactic, and he does own a blaster.  The Asian-influenced elements make a lot more sense, appearing mostly as background details that hint at a melding of cultures.  Mal is warm and affectionate with his crew, willing to joke around to entertain the audience, and at least 43% less misogynistic toward Inara.  Niska plays an important role in plot and character, setting up the possibility that we haven’t heard the last of this plot and also acting as a foil to the Serenity crew, who might kill the occasional unarmed prisoner but at least do their best not to poison entire towns.

Is “The Train Job” as unique an episode as “Serenity”?  Nope.  Does it do a better job at getting someone who’s never heard of this show before to want to tune in next week?  I think so.

And then the cancellation.

Obviously, we’ll never know if people would’ve kept on turning in, because the series got less than a single season.  And I think that was the right call, from the producers’ point of view.  Firefly as a show might not have had the budgetary demands that, say, Game of Thrones did, but even an amateur like me can take one look at that series and go “damn, that looks expensive.”

There are NINE (9!) main characters, with series-regular salaries.

CGI was a lot more expensive and time-consuming in 2002, and literally every episode includes some exterior footage of the ship.

Every single episode involves the characters, or at least the cameras, leaving the ship and going to different phantasmagorical settings.

Even “Out of Gas” and “Objects in Space” had to take the time and money to build the junkyard and Jubal Early’s ship, respectively.

“Trash,” “Serenity,” “Jaynestown,” “The Message,” and “Heart of Gold” each introduces (and requires a build for) an entirely new fake planet.

Every single episode involves minor characters, and over half of them involve crowd scenes that require hundreds of extras.

Horses.  And cows.  Cost money.  As Wash says, shoulda gone with the counterfeit beagles.

The Serenity set itself was built to scale.  That’d save money in the long term, but in the short term required more camerawork to actually film in partially-enclosed locations.  When you add in the fact that the on-planet shots always required dollies, cranes, and similar equipment, it adds up.

On a similar note, “the Firefly shot” (as it became known) requires days of planning followed by hours of shooting to include all of the characters in one single extremely long camera pan (almost five minutes long, the second time it happens).  As a stylistic choice, it was a pricey one.

If Firefly had been spectacularly successful right from the start, it might have been able to justify its enormous budget.  The fact that it was modestly successful didn’t justify the amount of money it was sucking from other projects.  Over 90% of shows that make it as far as network deals never even get a pilot; over 90% of shows that go so far as shooting a pilot never make it past that first episode.  The network decided to spread the love (and the budget) around, rather than sinking it all into a single project currently taking the place of maybe a dozen other potential shows.

Not only that, but Firefly didn’t have a ton of options for cutting its budget down.  It could use fewer camera tricks, but that wouldn’t change the need for CGI just to convey the basic premise of the show.  It could cut a character or two, but the cast would still be unusually large.  It could have fewer on-planet scenes, but there’s only so much one can do with the characters if they’re cooped up inside their ship the whole time.  Firefly was also leeching resources away from that team’s two other enormously successful projects – Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel — and the low ratings of Buffy’s season 6 and Angel’s late season 3 into season 4 reflect that fact.  If it’d been allowed to continue, Firefly ran the risk of killing both those golden geese without ever getting to the point of producing eggs itself.

Do I wish there was more of the show out there?  Yes.  Do I wish the show had had time to evolve, hopefully into something with fewer problems of casual racism?  Hell yes.  Would I have pulled the plug as well, if I’d been in the room when it happened?  Probably yes.

*I am aware of the theory that, given the heavily Asian-influenced settings in the “Safe” flashbacks, the popularity of “Tam” as a Chinese last name, the choice of dark-haired light-skinned actors, and specific elements of the family’s pressure to excel but conform, that the Tams are meant to be Chinese.  Given that all four actors are white, and that there are already ample problems with anti-Chinese racism in this show, I strongly prefer not to ascribe to that theory.

[rwby-redux]

Deconstruction

Worldbuilding: Semblances II

Last time in Part I, we analyzed the failings of Semblances from a meta perspective. Now we’re going to look at them within the context of the actual show. Before we begin, let’s revisit that list of basic traits that are universally shared by Semblances.

A Semblance draws upon Aura as its source of power. When this fuel is depleted, a person can no longer use their Semblance, and must wait for their Aura to regenerate before it can be used again.

The specific ability or nature of one’s Semblance is alleged to be an expression of the user’s personality/character/soul.

Overuse of a Semblance can adversely affect a person and cause physical side effects, such as fatigue, headaches, or fainting.

Semblances can interact with Dust in such a way that their skills are augmented, resulting in the temporary acquisition of new subskills or secondary characteristics.

Through training and regular usage, Semblances can gradually become stronger or more advanced.

The intensity of certain emotions, such as stress, panic, despair, or rage, can cause a person to subconsciously activate their Semblance.

This refresher will be important as we go more in-depth. At the very least, it’ll save you the hassle of having to jump back and forth between tabs.

Limitations of Semblances

Recall point one. If your first instinct is to say, surely having a limited amount of Aura is a good limitation for Semblances, then you’d be forgiven for thinking that. In theory, it makes sense: a power based on a finite energy source does seem like a pretty significant drawback. My main issue with this being a credible limitation for Semblances is that we, the audience, have no way to gauge Aura depletion over time. And by extension, neither do our characters. In the first three Volumes, students used specialized monitors (usually on their scrolls) to keep tabs on Aura over the course of a sparring match. Not only do I like this because it’s a clever visual aid for relaying information to the audience, but also because it conveys clear worldbuilding information: characters don’t seem to have a way of innately sensing when their Aura is low. This idea seems to be reinforced again in V7.E3 - “Ace Operatives.” In the opening scene, Clover reminds RWBY and JN_R that their scrolls have been upgraded with Atlas tech, and they shouldn’t forget to use them. That line of dialogue is accompanied by Blake consulting her scroll for her teammates’ Aura levels. To my knowledge, there’s nothing in the canon that suggests characters can sense or feel when their Aura level drops, or how far away it is from depletion.

Having to rely on scrolls to monitor their Aura would be an excellent limitation to impose on an otherwise limitless superpower. Not only would it require the characters to constantly monitor their Aura, but it could introduce realistic problems. Like what would happen if a character’s scroll was lost, or destroyed, or its batteries died? How would that affect the character’s behavior in regards to Aura-related tasks? Great idea, right?

Now here comes the kicker: we don’t see any evidence of this in the show. When Team RNJR was traveling through Anima, none of them discussed having to find a village to recharge their scrolls. It’s not as if the trees have outlets that they can conveniently plug their scrolls into. Similarly, none of the characters from Volume 3 onward consult their scroll during fights to see where their Aura levels are at. You don’t see characters changing fighting styles midway through a fight in order to conserve what little Aura they have left. You don’t see characters minimizing the use of their Semblance in favor of more efficient tactics.

That’s why limited Aura doesn’t seem like a believable limitation for Semblances—not for a lack of possibility, but for a lack of execution. If characters made more of a fuss about it on-screen, I could buy it. But apart from one or two throw-away lines, characters don’t seem to pay attention to how Aura depletion affects Semblance usage, and by extension, they don’t adjust or change their tactics during combat to compensate for it.

Bear in mind that this discussion has only touched upon general limitations. We haven’t even addressed Semblance-specific limitations yet. Can Marcus Black only steal one Semblance at a time? Can Sun only make a certain number of clones at once? If Yang doesn’t eventually release the energy that she’s stored up, does it backfire on her? Is Pyrrha limited to only one type of magnetism, like ferromagnetism, or can she use more than one type? If Robyn uses her Semblance on someone who’s stating an incorrect fact, but they believe that fact to be true, then does it indicate that the person is lying? Does Hazel’s Semblance allow him to bypass/negate his Aura’s healing factor in order to stab Dust into his body?

And on and on it goes. A combination of vague or poorly-established mechanics for Semblances, coupled with the wide variety of Semblances, makes it impossible to predict what could be a hindrance for our characters down the road. This in turn creates a lack of stakes—how can we, the audience, be invested in the dangers that the cast faces, when we don’t know if those dangers are credible in the first place?

Active versus Passive Semblances

Usually when a character reveals information, it’s meant to answer questions, not create more of them. Such was the case when Qrow revealed his Semblance to Team RNJR for the first time—he brings misfortune, or rather, causes people (and objects in the nearby vicinity) to be blighted by bad luck via the manipulation of probability. Qrow is our introduction to passive Semblances, a term which, if I’m being honest, I’m not even entirely sure is canon. Someone’ll need to correct me on that, but for now “passive Semblance” will do. Because we have precious little information on the topic, I’m going to be relying on direct quotes.

Qrow: My Semblance isn't like most—it's not exactly something I do. It's always there, whether I like it or not. I bring misfortune. [1]

This passage tells us two different things: (1) passive Semblances are always active, and (2) passive Semblances can’t be controlled.

You can already see the problems with introducing a new concept this late in the game, because this new information clashes with what (few) previously-established rules we already have: Do passive Semblances require Aura? If Qrow’s Aura is depleted, will his Semblance continue to run, or will it become unusable like everyone else’s?

This ambiguity becomes even more frustrating when we acquire more information a little over a year later:

“It's not necessarily constantly running, it's more that it randomly spikes to cause unfortunate situations. If he chooses to amplify it in a fight, then yes, it does cost him.” [2]

Now we’re being told that that his Semblance isn’t “always there,” that Qrow can control it to an extent, and that his Semblance only depletes his Aura when he chooses to amplify it. Here we have an example of the character in the show being directly contradicted by one of the show’s creators. This implies that either they didn’t do a good enough job explaining passive Semblances the first time around, or they changed things after the episode aired. It isn’t just a he said/she said issue, either—Semblances requiring Aura is one of RWBY’s core mechanics for its pseudo-magic system, and by having a character whose Semblance breaks that cardinal rule, it makes the writing more difficult to believe or trust in terms of what’s canon versus what’s a retcon; what’s a subplot versus what’s a plothole. It doesn’t help when we get even more contradictory information from later episodes:

Qrow: I wouldn’t thank me. My Semblance brings misfortune. Sometimes I can’t keep it under control. [3]

I’m sorry, I thought we just established that Qrow can only amplify his Semblance. Now you’re telling us that he can partially suppress it too? Either he can’t control it at all, he can amplify it, or he can sometimes suppress its effects. Make up your damn mind.

The effects of his Semblance can be as minor as a coffee spill or as dire as a collapsing building… [4]

No! Stop it! Knocking over a Starbucks latte is not the same thing as demolishing a fucking building.

How is Qrow’s Semblance able to do something as insanely energy-demanding as toppling infrastructure without expending any Aura? How does his Semblance locate or prioritize variables in the environment to exploit/sabotage? Like, if there’s a mouse hanging out near some sort of Dust-powered generator in the building, does his Semblance send out subliminal messaging that convinces the mouse to chew through an electrical wire and cause the generator to explode?

Look, I refuse to believe that spilling a cup of coffee is somehow equal to setting off a stick of TNT or taking a wrecking ball to the side of a skyscraper. It doesn’t make any sense, which means that you have to provide a proper explanation for how it works. Because otherwise you’re going to be left with an audience that assumes Qrow’s Semblance is powered by (a) plot convenience, or (b) rats.

This—all of this, right here—is my issue with passive Semblances. (And don’t even get me started on Clover’s.)

Semblance Discovery, Auratic Plasticity

Did you notice the fancy scientific-sounding term in the heading?

Ooh. Auratic plasticity. That sounds official. You’re probably wondering where that term came from. A scene from Volume 5 you haven’t re-watched in a while (not that I can blame you). A World of Remnant episode, perhaps? Maybe it’s from one of the comics, or the director’s commentary on a DVD, or even an AMA on Reddit?

To answer your question: it didn’t come from any of those. Auratic plasticity is a term I coined exclusively for the Redux. Specifically, for talking about what goes behind discovering a person’s Semblance, and what factors are at play when that Semblance takes on its unique form.

Before we can talk about Auratic plasticity, however, we need to talk about all the ways someone discovers their Semblance. It can vary wildly from person to person. For some, their Semblance unlocks randomly while doing everyday run-of-the-mill things. As alluded to by Taiyang in V4.E9 - “Two Steps Forward, Two Steps Back,” Yang’s Semblance activated while she was getting a haircut. For others, it can be the byproduct of training, extreme stress, or an otherwise fatal encounter. [5] In rare instances, Semblances can be hereditary, thus removing any ambiguity of what that person’s Semblance will be when it first activates.

The reason why I bring any of this up is because RWBY’s official stance is that Semblances “generally reflect the wielder’s personality.” [6] If Semblances were generally tied to the personality of the wielder, then it would fail to account for the correlation between the circumstance that triggered the Semblance to manifest, and the resulting Semblance expression.

Let me give you a few examples.

Adaptive Semblance: Nora’s Semblance was unlocked when she was struck by lightning. Consider the fact that her Semblance allows her to absorb electricity without taking any damage from the electric current. Rather than her Semblance being tied to her personality, Nora’s is likely a case of an adaptive Semblance—as in, her circumstances required a very specific Semblance in order to survive the 10,000 amperes running through her body. Instead of her soul generating a Semblance tied to her personality, it prioritized generating a Semblance that would help her survive an immediate and life-threatening scenario.

Innate Semblance: Ruby’s Semblance was discovered one day while training. If we’re to assume that there weren’t any dangerous circumstances factoring into that training session, it’s likely that her soul generated a Semblance that was in fact tied to an aspect of her personality. In this case, her superspeed is a projection of her enthusiasm and hyperactive zeal, and her tendency to prioritize others’ wellbeing over her own, trying to figuratively (and in this case, literally) reach them before they’re harmed.

Hereditary Semblance: Weiss and Winter, and (presumably) Whitley, Willow, and Nicholas all share the glyph-based Semblance unique to the Schnee lineage. The confirmation of their Semblance being explicitly hereditary contradicts the idea that Semblances are an expression of one’s personality. If we go by that logic, it implies that—what, their personalities are all the same? They have no individuality? I’m sorry, but that’s just dumb.

This is why Semblance discovery is important, and why the canon should have paid more attention to developing it. There’s pretty compelling evidence for a person’s Semblance being tied to multiple factors apart from their “personality.” I know that I’m digressing here a bit, but the main reason why I bring up this correlation isn’t just because it clarifies inconsistencies with the canon. It also presents an opportunity to enrich the lore of the show.

In the Redux, Auratic plasticity is the ability of the soul to generate a Semblance based on either an immutable personality trait (innate), a scenario-specific survival method (adaptive), or a “genetic” trait that’s repeatedly selected for due to its inherent fitness (inherited). These three categories are determined by a value called hierarchical prioritization—basically, it’s the soul’s ability to decide what Semblance-trigger gets precedence. I’ll get into more detail when I start the Amendment, but it felt important to clarify my intentions early, so I could justify writing 700 words on why Semblance discovery is important.

Adverse Effects of Using Semblances

Unlike Limitations, which focuses on what a Semblance can or can’t do, Adverse Effects deals with the negative repercussions/consequences of using a Semblance.

Or in RWBY’s case, a lack thereof.

(For the moment, let’s set aside the magic/not magic discourse and acknowledge that yes, in the traditional sense, Aura, Semblances, and Dust are part of RWBY’s magic system, the same way bending is part of A:TLA’s.)

When designing a magic system, you’ve got to balance it. Otherwise, the system contains powers that are vaguely-defined, OP, and bereft of any costs.

One way to implement a system of checks and balances is by giving that system a cost for using it. In RWBY’s case, the only “cost” experienced by characters is physical fatigue whenever they overextend themselves. But in the grand scheme of things it’s not really a detrimental consequence, in part because of how infrequently exhaustion is viewed as a legitimate threat. Seriously. When was the last time you saw the main cast fail because they overdid it while using their Semblances? It just doesn’t happen.

One way you could implement a cost is by tying Semblance usage to a physical demand. According an article by Julia Belluz, Winter Olympic athletes consume anywhere between 1,300 - 2,500 and 4,000 - 7,000 calories on average per day.

It wouldn’t be that much of a stretch to apply this to RWBY. Given the high-intensity acrobatics the characters perform on the regular, it would make sense that strenuous physical activity, coupled with Semblance usage, would create costs in the form of caloric needs. Maybe that’s an issue Team RNJR needs to deal with while backpacking across Anima. Is food a top priority for them? Do they have to restrict Semblance usage when running low on rations? Does the group ever have to hunt or forage for food to meet the energy demands of fighting Grimm?

Not only does this balance out Semblances, but it opens the door for potential worldbuilding. Is “Huntsman” ever used as a euphemism for “glutton”? Do all-you-can-eat buffets ban Huntsmen from their establishments? Do Huntsmen have a reputation for being less picky about food options? In places that use trade-and-barter systems, are Huntsmen willing to accept food as payment instead of lien?

I think that’s more or less everything I wanted to say about Semblances. I have a few unrelated nitpicks, but I can save those for another time. This post is already longer than I intended it to be.

-

[1] Volume 4, Episode 8: “A Much Needed Talk.”

[2] Shawcross, Kerry. “CRWBY AMA.” Reddit interview. February 12, 2018. [https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBY/comments/7x3w4s/crwby_ama_w_miles_luna_kerry_shawcross_and_paula/du5bpdm/?context=3]

[3] Volume 7, Episode 3: “Ace Operatives.”

[4] Wallace, Daniel. The World of RWBY: The Official Companion. VIZ Media LLC, 2019, page 94.

[5] Volume 5, Episode 4: “Lighting the Fire.”

[6] Wallace, Daniel. The World of RWBY: The Official Companion. VIZ Media LLC, 2019, page 39.

[ick25]

The problem with Megaman NT Warrior Axess.

As some of you already know, I finished reviewing the first season of the Rockman.EXE anime aka Megaman Nt Warrior. People have been asking me if I am planning to review the next season of the show that is Axess. The truth is that I have mixed feelings towards Axess because it is very different from the first season. Don’t get me wrong, I still love the show and I know the anime wouldn’t have been successful without Axess. There are a lot of things that I like, but also a lot of things that I don’t like, and if I were to review the episodes in order, it would be best if I got some issues I have with this season out of the way to avoid unnecessary ranting. (Unless you guys like my ranting for some reason)

1. The tone.

I personally like to call Axess the “experimental” season because it feels like it doesn’t even know if it should become a more mature anime or keep the innocent and sometimes goofy nature of the first season. One moment it has some silly situations and funny new characters, and in the next we have our beloved characters going through emotional traumas and being threaten with guns! Not space era guns like the ones the Net Agents had, but real guns. The biggest examples are Enzan and Mariko-sensei. For a kids action show, we get a lot of unnecessary drama, specially between Mariko and her long lost sister who she thought had died many years ago, only to come back and die in front of her twice, or having someone mistake her for Yuriko. I just think they could’ve written something better.

2. Unrecognizable past.

Axess tries to be a little more mature in tone and as a result it completely rewrites the first season like it never happened, at least, not in the way we remember. Changes like the plug-in PETs being replaced by the Advanced PETs that were just starting development in one of the last episodes of the previous season. However, they do mention the N-1 Grand Prix, Netto’s first meeting with Raoul, and the fact that Forte is now walking around in the real world in the former Gospel leader robot body, so that means the first season did happen, but differently? Going back to the tone issue, we get this conflict between Enzan and Blues who becomes corrupted by a Dark Chip that I personally find pretty boring because, one, we already know that Enzan cares about Blues ever since the Pharaohman incident, and two, I don’t care about this “new” Enzan enough to be interested in his life story more than the other characters. (Read the end of my review of episode 55 to see what I mean by new.) If the first season did happen, then why do we need to go into Enzan’s consciousness to see why Blues means so much to him, he didn’t seem to care much before the N-1, did he just forgot? He actually tells Netto after Rockman was deleted that he used to believe that Navis were just data. Some of the events from the first season don’t fit in well with Axess’s storyline making it very confusing.

3. Getting rid of old characters.

Another change was suddenly getting rid of some of the characters in the very first episode. Throughout the first season we follow the adventures of Netto and his group of friends comprised of Meiru, Dekao, Yaito and Tohru, as well as their Net Navis, but in Axess, Dekao suddenly decides to move to Jawaii to train with the Ex-WWW (who I don’t need to remind you that they are bad people) and leaves his little brother Chisao in Japan for some reason. Yaito moves back to Kingland to continue her studies or something, but then what was the point in moving to Japan from England (Kingland before it was a thing) in the first place?. And Tohru.... Well, he is still around, but let’s just say that he is not part of the group as much as before. Speaking of Tohru, Iceman gets a downgrade, he is now viewed more like a small child who hangs around with another small child like character, and less of a competent Navi that is capable of helping Rockman and the others to fight, which becomes very uncomfortable if you are used to his voice from the Dub.

The Net Agents are replaced with the Net Police as they were probably viewed as too silly for the new mature Rockman anime. So Axess sends them abroad with nothing but their space era guns only to return for a couple of episodes, one to remind us of the love triangle between Mariko-sensei, Higure and Masa as Commander Beef, and another just for Rockman to get Wood Soul from Woodman, which replaces the Style change in Axess.

4. Cross Fusion.

A drastic change, however, comes in the form of Cross Fusion. It might be hard to believe, considering all my CF design ideas, but I am not a fan of this concept. My theory is that Cross Fusion is a bold move the writers made to make the show more action like and appealing to young boys. In America, super hero cartoons are very popular, so in order to profit a little from that, the series had to be slightly modified to include more super hero transformation sequences and make the audience relate to Netto by fusing him with Rockman. Because Rockman is a computer program, kids can’t really relate to him, so they passed that torch onto Netto who basically takes over the show as the hero.

I don’t like this because I love Rockman, he is my hero and the main character, I never cared if I could relate to him or not, you relate with Netto as the human who develops a bond with an A.I. program that is loyal, always does the right thing, and does what he can to protect his friends. The whole point of the show is that they are best friends and their bond is what makes them a strong team, but even if Cross Fusion claims to be the result of that bond, it mostly just feels like it’s just Netto wearing Rockman as an armor.

There is also the problem with the action scenes in Cross Fusion. Not only do we get the same formula over and over again in Axess, but the battles are not as good as the ones in the Cyberworld. When you see Rockman fight, he jumps around, evades attacks, delivers punches and kicks when it’s necesary, making his fights entertaining. Netto on the other hand... Doesn’t really know how to fight, he relies more on brute force, the power of his chips, and almost never dodges attacks, the only thing that CF battles have going for them is the amount of damage they bring to the real world.

Anyway, these are just my opinions, but I’ll let you decide whether or not I review the Axess episodes in order, or have me review certain episodes from that or other seasons of Rockman.EXE.