#and sent lots of messages!!! ive been extra bad with messages lately so it made me happy to chat :)

[good-beans]

We did a lot today 😤👏

[pingunaa]

YES THANK YOU!whatmakes it sligtly worse is that hes gay himself so idk why he has such a strong hatred against lesbians when he knows what its like to be made fun of for his sexuality 🤨

ong the extra bit!

SO BASICALLY. last week he suddenly started ignoring my friend group p. ok so i need names so friend 1 is going to be ship, friend 2 is nail, friend 3 is tuna. i just thought of random words btw… OH AND THE person we do NOT like is going to be uh… dorf. thats ford backwords cus why not!!

so he just ignored us the entire week and we thought oh, maybe he just dossnt want to hang out with us cus he has other friends too and he just sat with them the entire time so it was like oh cool. it was VERy peaceful without him btw like, everyone was in a good mood n stuff. and then friday night ship and tuna start messaging me like “DO NIT OPEN DORF’S MESSAGE” and it turns out he sent us all an apology for ignoring us n stuff. hold on im gonna copy and oaste it,

Hey [pinguna] can we talk i just wanted to say im like super duper duper duper sorry for ignoring you and the others and I hope i didn't make you feel bad or anything but if you and the others (im also sending them separate apology texts) are fine with it I was wondering if yk we could just be friends again ig and like hangout and stuff don't feel pressured to say yes im just apologising right now you don't have to decide anything right now

but! so ship, tuna and i were on a call and looking at the mesage together and it tirns out HE COPY AND PASTED THE MESSAGE AND GAVE US ALL THE SAME ONE EXCEPT NAIL. nail git her own custom apology 😝 and for extra backstory nail and dorf have been friends since grade 4 and the rest of us became friends with him last year!

and as we now know, he HATES ME! so when he sent the apology i was like uh… doesnt he hate me and i then sent a message like “uh dont u hate me?” and he said this “Yes I 100% mean this like i appreciate you and the others so much i know sometimes im not the best person but you all really do mean a lot” and i laugjed so much. i wanted to say that he sounded SO fake and he didn’t appreciate me that well for the past year but my friends i was calling said that was too mean so i had to say “dw but we haven’t been on best terms for a big big time now”

and then he has the AUDACITY to ask me WHAT HE DID TO MAKE ME FEEL THAT WAY.

and i sent him this short list but i can add to it if i want to

-push me to the front just to make fun of me

-ignore me and sit with people you claim to hate with your guts JUST to not sit with me

-constantly try to exclude me in everything

-constantly trying to make everyone else make fun of me

and THEN HE REPLIES TO ME WITH THIS,

“OMG i’m so so sorry like i don’t think you know how much i do actually care about you i get i don’t show it I can really try change to be nicer but i get that sometimes sorry and changing isn’t always enough I do get I’m pretty mean i really don’t wanna make it about me but i have a bit going on lately and i hate that i have made you feel that i don’t care about you and i just want you to know i didn’t sit with people i hate to not sit with you because i don’t like you or anything i just thought you were mad at me or something which i understand if you were so i just wanted to give you all some space because I felt like i was too much like there is nothing wrong with you or that you have done wrong❤️”

i fear hes done this like.the entire time ive known him so according to him, ive neen mad at him since march of 2023 😗 and then i replied back to him with “i do understand that but its been going on for more than a year, nothings changed”

AND THEN HE SAYS “I’m so sorry I have ignored this i feel terrible well thanks for telling me look if you want me to do something to try to mend it because you do mean a lot to me or you just want me to leave you alone just let me know I won’t be mad either way”

MY FRIENDS TOLD ME TO BE NICE AND TELL HIM ITS OKAY TOO!?

i fear my friends and i are probably at fault for him 5alking to us again. but we do plan to tell him straight up to not hang with us anymore on thursday :p

and then i said “its alright ig” and then he said ong thank u or smth and i left him on opened. i know kt seems kike hes trying to be nice but i swear if you knew him IRL, you would know hes just neing desperate 😔

OKAY SO THIS WAS A SUPER LONG RANT!!!!!

IM DONE WITH THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!!!

HOOORAY!!! HOW WAS IT???

[the-bjd-community-confess]

More Divaz confos

Mod: Round two of these, previously: link. There’s some interesting customer reviews in this batch (5 and 8) which may be useful to readers.

1.Vic3mage "the secret bjdivaz vip group is just pictures of boxes coming in and going out". Yeah, between the bitching about d0llshe, asking people to post on doa for them, dunking on ex-customers, posting pics of random doll parts that they can't identify which doll they're supposed to go with, whining about how little money they make, whining when ppl e-mail them, whining. Yeah, other than that it's just boxes, and alpacas u can buy off amazon anyway lol.

~Anonymous

2.The butthurt users crying and guilttripping under every Divaz confession who have never been seen before elsewhere on this blog are extremely unsuspicious and unproblematic and definitely unconnected to Divaz and unbiased in every possible way

/s

~Anonymous

3.idk shit abt bjd1vas but v1cemage i can absolutely tell you the shit about ch0o is 100% accurate, fucker's got a long, long history of being an awful little man that stretches well beyond his involvement in the doll community. between the two i'd still trust bjd1vas over ch00 ch00 the fool any day!

~Anonymous

4.The Z3st and Div4s thing is really silly and both entities were being shady but did they really have to take the DZ waiting room down with them? :( He had even made a separate thread about it......

~Anonymous 

5. RE: BJD Divaz

I’ve been a customer of BJD Divaz since they first started, when it was only run by Chart3rline. I even contacted other BJD companies trying to persuade them to work with Divaz as their US representative. Most declined because they didnt like D's commission fee, but I was able to persuade a few of them.

I asked them to purchase a doll off DOA because I couldnt afford the asking price, and while they did, I found out later that instead of agreeing to purchase the seller's price, they negotiated the price to be lower. This significantly cheaper price was not passed down to me. I paid the full price +the commission fee based on that full price. I am disappointed I was not told this. This is when I stopped viewing them as a "friend" and instead, as a business. I dont hold this against them, it’s context to what Im going to say later.

I’ve stopped purchasing from D after my recent order from them. This company usually takes 3 or less months to make a doll. I’ve ordered the doll from D and it took 11 months. They let me know it arrived to them in March and that it will be shipped soon, except it only shipped on July, and only after I sent them several "reminder" emails. Before people in the comments try to put the blame on me for not sending a reminder soon, please keep in mind that I acknowledged the email in March and confirmed everything and they keep stressing to not send them emails because they are busy, I’ve emailed once every month since. I’ve since switched to ACBJD and Ive been happy with communication and the dolls ordered. I imagine ACBJD gets the same amount of emails, but they dont berate their customers if they email more than once.

I regret when people wanted a D0llshe, but not deal with him, I always recommended D. I would warn people of ordering directly and instead go through D. They assured buyers they would be handling communication and all the efforts so they wouldnt worry, except they didn’t. A person that I’ve recommended D to, who surpassed 2 years, keeps messaging me for help because D wouldnt reply to their emails. She is respectful, sweet and a timid person, not a Karen. This person, emailed D without a reply so would email a week later, only to be told that their email would be pushed down to the bottom if emailed again. No response, so she goes to FB and IG, who both tell her to email because they arent the person running orders. Finally got a response that they would get their refund, after D0llshe sends D's payment, but minus the PP fees. 3 months later and theres no refund, only a promise of them getting it later. Why is the customer missing out on fees when they have no doll? Customer emails d0llshe and he says he cant offer refund, because they didn’t order through them, which is understandable, but when all options are out for a customer, do you blame them for chargebacks?

If anyone files a chargeback, D will be blacklisting them from every company they rep, as in blacklisting you from buying direct from those companies. I urge everyone who has negative experiences with D to email the companies they rep instead of venting on confession blogs, and writing your experiences on social media. Make it count and send letters to the companies they represent, and please provide proof because they will try to make you out to be a liar.

Speaking of, they made vague posts on cl0ver singing for charging paypal fees, and that they offer guarantees as an official dealer, except when offering refunds, to non delivered products I might add, they are keeping the fees, and offered no help with d0llshe, even before they ended their dealership with them. Someone on DOA was told to not email them unless the wait time surpassed 1.5 years. They are even so petty that they post screenshots with the full name and address (dox) of the customer on purpose and then delete it out a day later as if they just realized their "mistake".

Before you try to make excuses for them about the fires, keep in mind, I am dealing with a business. The lower price negotiation with the DOA sale, I am in no way obligated to give them a pass or treat them as a friend when they made it clear that our relationship is strictly business. Their issues, are not my issues. D0lk got dragged for not shipping in time, others, including artisans, got dragged for being so late with communication and sending back refunds for cancelled orders. Why does D get to be exempt?

The supporters are the worst part of this, because of instead of being honest so D can improve, they support them for being "real". For example, look how micemage words it, to make it seem like this criticism is from one person, when there are people on addicts who didn’t have good experience. Check the bjd dealers tag here, you will see the supporters in the comments going off on any and all criticism of D. Some have sane comments, but the majority are cult like and try to identify the person venting as if it’s one person. Addicts deletes threads with criticism asking people to instead direct it to their feedback group; which lets be honest, no one is going to do because its "not that bad", and most dont want to join a new group, which is mostly dead.

This is my first and last confession on D, I’ve emailed each company they rep and told them my experience as well as contacting the 3 month wait company, with screenshots of my order, how they handled it, and the excuse they used to put blame on the company for being so late (package arrived march to D, 4 months to be shipped is on D, not the company). I’m not using company or order details because I know they are petty enough to try to identify me and publicly shame me like they have to others. This and the threat of suing is why not many people like to go public with their experience. They just keep feedback neutral, move on and never deal with again.

~Anonymous

6. Listen, I can't take you seriously in regards to BJD!vas because you're posting on a confession blog. If you were serious, you would have posted in buyer beware groups, DoA reviews or the board to get things resolved, or you would have made a complaint to the BBB. And your language makes you come off more as someone with an agenda rather than someone who is trying to warn people. If shipping is the issue, stop buying with standard shipping and pay the extra price for express shipping. I saw one of you complain that it sat with them for 20 days; that's probably because you're not the only one and they more than likely have a queue to check and then ship out. Do mistakes happen? Yes, because we're human. I've been in this hobby for a few years now and it seems like most people know you're going to have to wait, sometimes even outside the expected wait time. And shipping something as big as a doll is a timely endeavor. I shouldn't have to say that.

My point is simply to stop complaining on an confession board and either take it to the places previously mentioned. Posting here behind the anonymous mask makes you sound like a petulant child who didn't get their way right away.

~Anonymous

7.My only issue with BJD Divaz is how I never get any updates. Every email, they tell me to join their facebook page for status updates. I dont have a FB and I dont want to create one. I bought my doll through their website, updates should be posted on their website, or they could send me an email. That isnt asking much.

~Anonymous

8. Since there seems to be a lot of either "completely negative everything sucks" or "everything was sunshine and rainbows" confessions about bjd!vaz I thought I'd chime in with a neutral review.

PROS

-They were always polite and professional in their emails, and gave me very detailed answers to my questions.

-I got exactly what I ordered, so no mix ups or missing parts or anything like that.

-I think them being forthcoming about personal issues (only one person on staff, illness, the flooding isue etc.) on social media is good, since it keeps customers updated as to why there might be delays.

-If you live in the US their shipping is very reasonable.

CONS

-Reply times were varied. Sometimes it could take over a week, sometimes a couple hours.

-My order took about 10mo which, when comparing to other people who ordered through the same company around the same time, was about 3x as long as if I bought it direct and 2x as long if I had gone through a different dealer. I get some of the waiting time is out of their control, but it was kind of ridiculous.

-They dont necessarily ship the same day they send you a tracking number. I wish they said something like, "Here's your tracking number, our pickup is Xday so it should start moving after that" just so I could be aware.

All in all no major complaints. I got my doll and all that. Their lone employee is clearly overwhelmed. I hope they hire another person, if only to give the one a break.

Truthfully, I most likely won't buy through them again. I'd rather pay the international shipping and go direct, than deal with the extensive wait time. I'd still recommend them to someone looking for a very long layaway, though. I paid in full, but if I had a 12mo layaway I would've never known they weren't ready to ship my doll until month 10.

~Anonymous

[savnofilter]

TW: MENTIONS OF DISCOURSE, GR//MING, P/D/PHILIA, ASS//LT, C//NSENT, D//RK CONTENT.

- this isnt under a read more because i want people to read this, but please read past this/tread carefully if you cannot handle such topics. this is not meant to be interacted with.

I'm not sure how to really go about this. I've been overthinking if I should address this and bring up some stuff while I've been gone, so sorry the absence. I deleted the tumblr app a few days ago and I downloaded it again today so i could post this. I really don't like making posts like this because it cuts the vibe that I've been trying to portray that everything is okay and it makes me feel really disconnected to you guys. I am sorry for the abrupt absence and cutting off any source of communication between us. I knew if I left any form of direct line of talk to me that I would receive hate and I just mentally decided that I cant sit through being harassed right now.

Have you guys ever paid attention to the same people who always have a statement to say or is always in discourse? It's very telling how everyone can post about me, but I shouldnt dare post about them. I'm tired of not being able to post about what I want without people vague posting about me, bringing me up every time they start another discourse with another writer or directly talking about me. My days on here are starting to feel the same. Its good then it goes bad. Good goes bad and bad goes good. It's not even tiring, annoying, or angering -- its repetitive. When I'm not saying anything people create fake stories about me, and when i speak about it im the one starting discourse. Don't get me wrong, I'm nowhere near perfect and I have made my own mistakes. But why the fuck am I always being told to be the mature one, why am I the one who should've done better, why do you people expect so much from me. It's the fact people are always quick to say, "no one cares about you, youre fishing for attention" when they're the ones who vague and interact with me while ive been minding my business for months now. Hm. The fact people have me proudly blocked but still harass me anyways shows a lot about themselves than it does for me. How its such an issue that im a minor until it comes to demonizing, tearing down my character, gaslighting, lying and bullying. I'm a literal example of how their friend group manipulates their followers and exiles people from fandoms for not kissing their ass. except now its in your face.

Consider this my last post about this discourse. I'm not going to waste my time on people who fail to digest other peoples thoughts and opinions time and time again because theyre weak narcissists. If I so choose to decide to shit post my opinions or argue with someone, none of you should be aggravated or moved by it because youre not even supposed to be on my page. If its not something serious i will not be wasting energy that i can be using to build on myself as a growing person than on miserable old ladies that have to use fanfiction to have excitement in their pity, depressing and lackluster lives. If people so do choose to create stories or vague about me, I do not care. So I ask respectfully to people who do lurk on my page to not attempt to message, post or vague about me please. This includes sending anons to yourself to make shit happen.

Past that, something got me thinking. My (older) friend had showed me screenshots of adult writers (no one i have spoken to) that were very excited to write underaged reader with adult characters. There are other instances where writers (that you have probably read from) on here openly made reader underage while aging characters up as adults/with adults. There are many more but there's really no point in listing them nor do I really care. But least to say, the same people who are gung-ho over these pedophilic themes/stories are the same people who support predatory people.

I've been thinking about whether or not i should continue writing for the students anymore. Granted, I still think they're attractive because one snap of the fingers cant stop that. I had been teetering on this thought for awhile because of how borderline pedophilic the people are here towards my age group. I enjoy writing but not to the point of willingly being in a straight line of sight where people who are well over 16 are harassing me and lurking on my page, especially to other minors solely because they are my friends. Backtracking to the statement before, I honestly dont know if I will either stop writing or just for the students as a whole. It shows that clearly some people are using their attraction to teens with the excuse that the characters are fake. The rapid normalization on dark problematic "kinks" is disgusting and vile, and the fact that its discourse now to shame said interests is appalling. Concluding that combined with my experiences here, i feel unsafe.

***(TRIGGER WARNING)*** I dont talk about my personal life on here that much cause I dont see the need too nor do i think its anyone's business. Paired with the fact that the people i have trusted personal information with have used it against me, I will be preventing myself from opening that door. Besides that for now, I have sparsely shared I've been assaulted before. This is my first time really opening up about this and i kind of find it necessary now. Coming from someone who has been a victim of assault and CP by people my age and well over, writing nsfw has been the only way where I could feel comfortable with sex in general. I won't get into details because mentioning this is triggering already and can make people uncomfortable. It feels like anywhere I go, I'm constantly putting myself in a position to be abused. The same people who told me I didn't have to worry about my age and be judged for it, exposed the minimum comfort of keeping myself private online to demonize, judge and hurt me. People call me "extra" for being distraught about my face and age being posted because they think im trying to be sneaky which isn't the case. Its the principle that they KNEW I wasnt ready to share said things, and coming from someone who is inherently a private and closed person, she knew damn well what she was doing when posting screenshots of me on Tumblr. There is no excuse for it. The same writers who write dub/non-con can BARELY understand basic consent and its fucking terrifying. This site was the only other place I could cope without being criticized. To see people who some i was close to proudly lie on my name, (adults) say that i sent them pornographic content without their consent is so very hurtful. To watch people supposedly be victims and then use their own trauma to invalidate my own was so fucking humiliating, disgusting and nerve wracking. Although I knew I made the terrible decision to interact with stories, I have never initiated any NSFW discussion with anyone in DMs unless they did it with me first and a few times -- and trust me raise your hand I'll show you the proof. I was sure that everyone I talked to regularly knew that I was a minor, and to my general consensus, people were under the impression I was 15/16 (which I was and am).***

Whether it be victim blaming from the grooming discourse, I've been met with racism, harassment towards my friends, people wanting me to harm myself and be assaulted. I fear what will happen when i will turn 18, if the harassment will escalate and what not. A big part of me is that I'm still here anyways because it pisses people off and I don't care when I receive hate. I can take it but I don't want it. A good conscious of me knows that I should be doing what's best for me but at the end I'm still attached to my ego-self with the added fact that I sincerely enjoy interacting with my followers and posting stories.

I just don't know how the options look. I'll probably be updating my blog rules as of right now. I've been writing more sfw lately because of this and it'd be nice if you guys supported those until I properly decide. I still have plenty of requests of a bunch of characters (mostly Bakugo and Dabi) and original stuff (all sfw & nsfw) that I really wanna share with you guys. But I just ask that what I do modify that you will respect it like you would to any other writer on here.

Stay safe, keep your mask on, and thank you.

[freddiesaysalright]

My Man Part VI

A Ben!Roger Taylor x Reader Fic

Summary: Reader is a Broadway actress currently starring in a West End production of Funny Girl. She’s a widow, thanks to the Vietnam War, but it’s a well-kept secret. She also wants everyone to think she doesn’t care for rock music. She met Roger Taylor when he brought his date backstage. They didn’t start off great, but a party at Freddie’s turned them around. Now, they’re friends. After she was attacked by a director, Roger is there for her. Then she gets a surprise visitor with some wise words for her.

Word Count: 2.6K

Tag List: @bohemian-war @kittygirlno @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @rockyroadthepastryarchy @goodoldfashionedloverboyy @jennyggggrrr @discodeacygotmorerhythm @x1975sos @slytherinxval @cyndagoaway @doingalrightt @lovvliies @hopefully-aesthetically-pleasing @capsparrowtara @they-call-me-peaches @hyosong @riddikuluslypotter @orchideax  If you’d like to be added, let me know!

Part I  Part II  Part III  Part IV  Part V  

Part VI here we go!!!

You spent the next few days at home, recovering. Roger stayed with you all the time, leaving only for band stuff and to shower and change. You thought about telling him he could bring some things over, but you weren’t sure what kind of message that sent.

It was Roger who told you that you absolutely could not go back to work. You agreed only because there wasn’t enough makeup to cover the bruise around your eye. You also couldn’t bear the thought of performing “You Are Woman, I Am Man.” It made your stomach clench to even think about. You gave Gary the excuse that you were ill, and he bought it.

Three days after your assault, you were relaxing with Roger on your couch. You were reading your old copy of Jane Eyre, while he dozed beside you, his arm draped lazily across your shoulders. You’d always loved Jane Eyre. When times were hard, you read her story again. You told yourself that if she could overcome the things she did, you could overcome the trials of your own life.

As you read, you came across a line that struck your heart in a new way: “I had not intended to love him; the reader knows I had wrought hard to extirpate from my soul the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed view of him, they spontaneously revived, great and strong! He made me love him without looking at me.”

You stopped. Closing the book, you glanced at Roger. He looked at peace as he slept, even with his head back and mouth slightly agape. You watched his chest rise and fall with each breath and remembered when you first met. He was acting so arrogant and you were so annoyed. Now he was at your side in the most dire situation you’d ever faced. How could this have happened? You, who were so sure you would never love again after losing George, were falling in love with Roger Taylor?

He didn’t even really look the same to you. Before - and perhaps still to others - he was the great Roger Taylor, drummer for Queen and womanizer extraordinaire. Now, he was just Roger, who held you close and punched your agent and slept on a lumpy sofa for you. Roger, who was talented and smart and passionate. Roger, a man you respected. A man you loved.

But what could ever come of it? He was also your best friend. Had his feelings changed? Had they ripened into this exciting and painful extra emotion? You weren’t even sure if you wanted an answer.

A knock at the door interrupted your thoughts. Roger shook awake and met your eyes. His sleepy face could have melted all the snow in Siberia. Your heart skipped a beat.

“You wanna get that or should I?” he asked, smirking.

You smiled. “I’ll get it.”

You padded over to the door and peered through the peephole. With a gasp and a cry of delight, you yanked the door open and threw your arms around the visitor.

“Jack!” you cried. “Oh my God!”

He laughed and spun you around. When he put you down, you saw Roger at the door. He looked between you and Jack and frowned.

“Roger,” you said. “This is my brother, Jack. Jack, this is Roger Taylor.”

Roger’s face immediately shifted and he smiled. “Oh, nice to meet you.”

He held out his hand and Jack shook it.

“So it’s true,” he said in almost a whisper.

“What’s true?” you asked.

Jack held up a copy of the issue of In Tune about you and Roger. “You’re doing it with the drummer of Queen!” He pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing the top of your head to mess up your hair as much as possible. “I’ve never been so proud of you!”

Roger looked away, grinning like an idiot.

“Get bent!” you laughed, shoving him off. “He’s just a friend.” You felt like you were lying as you said this. “Come inside, will you?”

Jack followed you into the flat, clapping Roger on the shoulder. Roger closed the door behind you. At last, Jack took in your face.

“You look like shit,” he said, playfully.

“Shut up,” you returned, rolling your eyes. “It doesn’t help that you just ruined my perfectly sloppy ponytail.”

“Did you get into another fight?” he asked.

“I’m sorry - another fight?” Roger interjected.

“She had an eventful youth,” Jack said.

Roger raised his eyebrows at you. You ignored him.

“Jack, what are you even doing here?” you wondered. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled, but it’s such a long trip.”

“Dear Mother and Father sent me after some of their English connections saw the magazine,” he explained, waving it around again. “I’m supposed to set you straight.”

“What does that mean?” Roger asked.

“It usually means she and I get drunk together and then I lie to our parents about it,” Jack told him. “I was kinda iffy about this one but it was a free trip to London, so I thought - what the hell, I wanna see her show anyway.”

“I haven’t been in the show for a couple days,” you said solemnly. “Bruises look especially bad under stage lights.”

“You’re going to have to explain that,” he replied. “Do I have to beat someone up?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I once tackled you to the ground and made you eat dirt.”

“So?” he returned. “I was like twelve.”

“I was twelve,” you corrected. “You were seventeen.”

Roger snorted and you looked smugly at your brother.

“You know what, that’s fair,” Jack admitted. “But I do still need to know what happened to you.”

You looked down. “Just a really shitty director.”

“Did he try to casting couch you?” he wondered.

You could only nod. Jack pulled you close. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” He kissed you on the head. “I love you so much and if I were as strong as you, I’d tackle that asshole to the ground and make him eat dirt.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you clutched his shirt and chuckled. “You’re an idiot and I love you.”

Roger looked at the pair of you incredulously. “You two are giving me emotional whiplash.”

“Sorry, Roger,” you said.

“Oh, are you on a first name basis?” Jack teased, letting you go.

You looked at him and it hit you all of a sudden that you hadn’t called Roger “Mr. Taylor” since Mark’s attack on you. It just came so naturally now.

“It’s a recent development,” Roger said. “I’ve been begging her to stop with the ‘Mr. Taylor’ but she refused.”

“Some habits are hard to unlearn,” Jack said. “But I’m glad she’s opening up.”

The corners of Roger’s mouth turned up, but stopped when he looked at the clock.

“I’ve got to go,” he said, looking at you. “Rehearsal. I’ll come back after, yeah?”

“Please do,” you replied.

He grabbed his things, pressed a kiss to your forehead, and left with a final wave.

“See ya, Roger,” you called.

“Great to meet you!” Jack added as the door closed softly behind Roger.

Jack whipped around and looked expectantly at you.

“What?” you asked, more defensive than you meant to sound.

“You love him,” he said.

“Of course I do, he’s my best friend,” you answered, too quickly.

“You know damn well I meant you’re in love with him,” he said. “Like wanna marry him, fuck his brains out, and have his babies.”

“Jack!”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m wrong.”

You looked deliberately away from him, biting your lip.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “So why aren’t you with him?”

“There’s a lot that goes into answering that,” you began. “You know me. I over-analyze every part of what I’m feeling until I’m ready to explode.”

“Break it down.”

“I still feel guilty about moving on from George.”

“Okay. And?”

“Roger and I are such good friends, I’m worried if I tell him how I feel, he’ll reject me and I’ll lose him.”

“And?”

“I’m still feeling weird about being touched after being groped by that director.”

“And?”

“That’s it,” you said.

“Liar,” he accused.

Glowering at him, you crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s true.”

“There’s something else.”

You groaned.

“Just tell me!” he insisted.

“I’m…” you trailed off, unsure how to word it. “I’m afraid that I...I won’t be able to please him...y’know...in that way.”

“Are you serious?” Jack returned.

“Yes!” you cried. “I’ve been with one person ever in my life, and I was married to him. Roger Taylor has been with - I dunno - every woman in London. And you should see the women he takes out, Jack. They’re head-turningly beautiful women.”

“Well, according to this bullshit magazine, he hasn’t been out with anyone since you eloped,” he said.

“We haven’t eloped,” you said.

“Anyway,” he began. “I should tell you that your sexual prowess probably doesn’t matter to him. And you’re every bit as beautiful as any of the girls he’s dated.”

“You haven’t seen them.”

“I don’t need to. Remember my first trip home from college? I brought back my roommate and he fell in love with you?”

“What?” you returned.

“God, I was so pissed too because I was convinced he was gay. Then we were up late at night talking, and he said you were so beautiful and all this other crap until he fucking cried.”

You giggled. “I’m sorry I ruined that for you.”

“So yeah, you’re pretty, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed.

“And I do think Roger returns your feelings,” he continued. He held up the picture of you on the magazine. “I mean, look at his face here.”

You did. Roger was laughing as he looked at you in the photo. His arm was around your waist to have you near him. His eyes shone like the moon. Your expression was much the same.

“He looked like that every time he looked at you,” Jack said. “That’s how you look at the love of your life.”

Your face fell at those words.

“I know you feel guilty about George,” he said, not needing an explanation. “I loved him too and I know you risked everything for him. But he loved you so much. He’d never want you to stop living your life on his account.”

“I know,” you said.

“And honestly, I think he’d be damn proud of you for getting Roger Taylor,” he joked.

“I kinda think so too!”

You laughed together and for a moment you felt like you were a teenager again. Joking around with your big brother and the whole world ahead of you. You would never have guessed you would end up where you were.

“And as for the physical stuff after being hurt by that director,” he continued, serious now. “That’s just gonna take time. But I have a feeling that whenever you’re ready, Roger’s gonna be there for you.”

“You got all of that just from the way he looks at me?” you asked.

“It says a lot,” he said with a shrug.

“Thanks, Jack,” you replied. “I’m so glad you’re here to listen to my crazy.”

“What are gay big brothers for?”

When Roger returned that evening, you were nursing a glass of wine. You and Jack had killed a bottle while catching up before he returned to his hotel room. Now, you were back to your book. Roger smiled as he entered your living room.

“Hey,” he said. “Your brother clear off?”

“He went to his hotel room,” you said. “But he’s gonna be here for a week at least. He wants to see me in the show before he goes.”

“Are you ready for that?” he wondered, taking a seat.

You draped your legs across his lap. He gave them a gentle pat with his warm hands.

“I think I will be,” you assured him. “Nothing lifts my spirits like being on stage.”

“I admire your resilience,” he said.

You stared at him for a moment while he toyed with the fluff on your socks. You were suddenly overcome with affection for him. You smiled to yourself, and resumed comfortable silence. Roger did eventually get up to pour himself a glass of wine and then switched on the TV. You loved just existing in the same room with him.

That night, you awoke from a deep sleep from the noises in the living room. Thinking Roger had just left the TV on, you got up and headed out to switch it off. When you emerged from your bedroom, you were horrified to see the noises were coming from Roger. He was moaning, covered in sweat, and thrashing on the couch. You recognized this from the nights when George was home from Vietnam. Roger was having a nightmare. A PTSD nightmare.

You flew to his side, calling his name softly so you wouldn’t startle him. You pressed your hand onto his shoulder, and you felt how clammy his skin was. Gently, you rubbed up and down his arm until his movements slowed. He twitched away from you a few times, and you would back off for a moment before trying again.

“Roger,” you said, a little louder now.

His eyes snapped open, and he looked at you. For a split second, he moved away, as if he didn’t recognize you. Clarity swept over him and his hand shot toward you to cling to a bit of your nightgown. His chest heaved with his labored breathing, so you placed your hand over it. You could feel his heart pounding like a jackhammer.

“I’m here, Rog,” you said, cupping his face with your other hand. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

He tried to sit up, but you didn’t let him.

“Easy,” you soothed. “Just rest now, my darling.”

His breathing was still shallow, so you inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.

“Can you do this with me, Rog?” you requested. “Come on, deep breaths.”

He closed his eyes and followed your lead. You kept a hand on his chest to feel his pulse as you settled him. His grip on your clothing relaxed as well.

“Are you alright?” you asked, when he opened his eyes again.

“Yeah...just a stupid dream,” he muttered.

“It looked pretty serious to me,” you said.

“S’nothing,” he insisted.

You didn’t answer and you shifted your body so that you were laying beside him. Without prompting, he buried his face in the crook of your neck as he hooked an arm around your waist. You dragged your nails gently across his back and hummed absentmindedly.

“Sing something for me,” he said.

“What would you like to hear?” you asked.

“Anything,” he told you.

You cleared your throat and began the first song that came to mind.

“Somewhere over rainbow, way up high,” you began.

He pulled his head back and looked so intensely at you, it took your breath away.

“How’d you know?” he wondered.

“What?”

“That’s the song my mum…” he trailed off. “After my dad was...extra rough, I guess. She sang that for us.”

You realized that must have been what he was dreaming. You ached with sympathy.

“You want me to stop?” you offered.

“No,” he said, returning his head to your shoulder. “No, don’t stop.”  

“There’s a land that I heard of, once in a lullaby…”

As you sang, you considered everything you discussed with Jack, and realized he was right. What you and Roger had was special. You cared about one another in a way that was deeper than bones. It was your souls that spoke to each other. The only thing left to know was who was going to act on it first.

If happy little bluebirds fly

Beyond the rainbow

Why, oh why can’t I?

[justoneday-namjoonii]

color me moonlight. V

☾ • I • II • III • IV • V • VI • VII ☽

› Summary: Some flowers are not to be plucked, for their thorns are far too sharp for any hand to graze, yet, they were chosen. She shined, light radiating from the depths of her soul. She was radiant, powerful – she didn’t know it, but a creature as beautiful she could never be bad. However, he was made to consume the light. For the light was meant to dwell with darkness just as powerful, but far more dangerous.

› pairing: Taehyung x reader/OC › genre: angst | m | fluff | sci-fi au | supernatural!au | mutant!au | hybrid!au |

- Flashback - 

November 21st, 1980

I believe my calling is to heal people, make them stronger, beautiful—better.

“Jane!” 

A wide-eyed 5-year-old came running down the hall, a sheet of paper in her hands. Lenny. She’s a carbon copy of her big sister, just a tiny version with two pigtails and a jet black bob.

“Look,” She took her paper and put it over her sister's biochemistry homework, “I drew this for you.” She had the cutest smile and her oversized shirt hung on her tiny figure adorably.

“Thank you, Lenny,” She smiles, “but mom said you were supposed to stay in bed, Doctors orders.” Jane was currently in school for her first medical degree and she takes her little sister's illness very seriously.

“But I just wanted to bring this to you.” She pouts, bottom lip poking out.

“Well, your picture is beautiful,” Jane tilts the photo to the side and furrows her brows, “who is this pretty girl?” She points to the photo illustrating a girl in a garden with a sun behind her in vibrant crayons. 

“That’s the girl I see in my dreams sometimes, the light follows her, it’s like- like the sun.” She jumped on Jane’s bed, playing with the charm bracelet on her wrist. 

She’s having the visions again. Lenny has a rare ‘disorder’ that Jane has been researching with other doctors for some time now. She sees what they believe to be the future in vivid dreams and visions, and she sees it backward. When the doctors were testing her and trying to figure out why she would get so fatigued, that’s when they found the reason.

“It does what she says and that’s how the plants grow.” She giggled, crawling off the bed and jumping into Jane’s lap.

“Wow, she must be really special if she can do that.” 

“Of course she’s special,”

She giggles, “she’s your daughter.”

“My- My daughter?...” She reiterates to make sure she heard the little girl right. When Lenny nods, a cute little grin on her face, Jane just shakes her head with a giggle. “Ok,” She gets up and scoops Lenny into her arms, 

“You officially need to go back to bed, you’re talking crazy.” 

*

*

Agent Jeon has one goal, find Y/n and take her to SRMA. 

His first attempt to capture you backfired, but with all of the research he’s doing, he should have no problem tracking you down. Nelson didn’t say much about what you could do, so he didn’t know how cautious he should be. But then again, you ran away from him, you didn’t try to fight. So that makes him wonder, do you even know how to use your powers?

“I made a list of contacts, I’m going to meet with Jung Hoseok, a friend of hers who works as an intern at the SRMA. I’m going in now to ask him a few questions,” He nods at whatever is said through the phone, “I’ll make sure he knows.” He walks up to the front desk. 

“Excuse me,” The woman looks up, “hi. I’m looking for Jung Hoseok, he’s an intern here I believe.” 

“Oh, yes. And your license please?” His brows furrow as he reaches in his back pocket to reveal his form of identification—his FBI badge. By her widened eyes, she deems is identification enough for her. She directs him to the elevators so he can go to the 4th floor. He gets on the elevator and in just a few moments, he’s walking down the hall, and coincidentally, he sees Hoseok walking by with a clipboard and a lab coat on his shoulders.

“Excuse me, Mr. Jung.” Hoseok looks back at the call of his name.

 “Hi,” He pauses in his tracks to look at Jungkook, “can I help you?” 

“Yes actually.” Jungkook shows his badge and Hoseok recoils at the sight. “My name is agent Jeon Jungkook and I’d like to ask you a few questions.” 

“Alright...but what’s this all about?” He swallows, trying to remain composed in front of the agent.

“Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

“Sure,” Hoseok let his coworkers know he would be a minute before leading Jungkook to the break room. They both take a seat across from each other and, Hoseok twiddles his fingers as Jungkook gets comfortable, pulling out a pen and paper. 

“So,” He sits cross-legged, “how do you know Y/n?”

“We met in a class, I’ve known her for about 4 years now.”

“I see,” He writes that down, “and are you to close?”

“Close?”

“I mean, does she share a lot with you? Does she confide in you at all? or vice versa.”

“Well,” He contemplates his answer. While you two are great friends, there are some things you tend to avoid, questions about your past, questions about your family—you avoid it like the plague, “we’re close but I know there are some things she keeps form me, that’s just the kind of person she is. I don’t argue with her about it, she gets upset if I pry too much.”

“That makes sense.” He nods, “What do you know about her involvement with The 1989 Project?”

“I don’t think she has any...Every time I bring it up, she changes the subject or talks about how she doesn’t believe it. She knows I work here but mutants freak her out.” Jeon nearly laughs, Hoseok definitely isn’t aware of the truth.

“I see,” He scribbles a few things down, “and has she ever come to the SRMA for any reason at all?”

“I’m not sure, I told you we really don’t talk about the SRMA. If I’m completely honest, there’s not a whole lot I know about her. I do know a bit about her past, what she does for a living...She even confides in me at times, but-...I don’t know, I worry about her.” Hoseok is reminded of the message you sent him this morning about you staying at a friend's place—that’s very out of character for you.

“When was the last time you spoke with her?”

“This morning actually, I texted her to tell her I was returning a book but she wasn’t home. She said she was at a friends house, I’m not sure what friend though.” Jeon asks for your number and Hoseok reluctantly gives it to him.

Jeon sighs, closing up his notebook before standing to his feet. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Jung, I truly appreciate it. If you have any information on her whereabouts, please, don’t hesitate to give me a call.” He walks out of the room with swiftness. “Have a good day-”

“Wait, what’s going on? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” That was a half-truth, “this is just an extra precaution we take when we think we have a potential lead.” Hoseok’s brows furrow and his stomach churn at the term—lead. At the SRMA, when a lead is admitted, that means a potential subject of The 1989 Project. 

“A lead? You think she’s a part of that? That’s impossible, she can’t stand the mention of it...” Hoseok shakes his head at the FBI agent’s implication that you, of all people, are a product of Jane Sato. That’s absolutely ridiculous.

“You can never be too careful these days, it could be anyone.” 

This is not, by any means, your best blouse—but it’s as good as you’re gonna get until you can go buy a new one. 

You buttoned up your dress pants, slipped your day-heels on, and walked out of your room to see if Taehyung was out there. He was in the kitchen like always, pouring hot water into a portable teacup. When he looks up, you ease out of your room and it makes him smile. He had gotten up a lot earlier than you, around 2 o’clock in the morning to be precise. But instead of staying with you, he opted for going to his bedroom and sleeping there. Lately, he’s been getting these waves of pain in his head, like little tremors of headaches and it was difficult to sleep. Even when he went to his room, he had to take a few ibuprofen to get a little shut-eye. And there you are, looking like sunshine and moonlight tied up in one beautiful creature.

You walk into the kitchen. “Good morning...”

“Good morning, are you ready for your first day?”  

“Yeah.” Not really. “Are you sure I should start today? Or should I even be doing this in general...” 

“I don’t see why not.”

“The whole city is paranoid and there are people looking for me.”  

“The city has always been paranoid. But you don’t have to worry, they don’t have a bunch of pictures of you so no one's gonna easily  recognize you.” He seems to underestimate the paranoia that some people have. You sit on a barstool at the island and grab one little vine of grapes from the bowl he had out with various fruit. “Just hide in plain sight, you’ve done it all this time.” He retorts, raising his brows when you frowned. 

“I’m not really hidden anymore...”

“You’ll be okay, just keep a low profile.” He grabbed his bag off of the chair beside you, you scurried to get your purse and trailed behind him. He locks the door you two are on your way.

The commute was nice, quiet, but nice. You two didn’t talk too much, you asked him simple questions about what you’ll be doing, what time you get off, things like that. He had a lot on his mind, you could tell by the way he seemed to zone out at red lights. He pulled in to his designated parking spot and pulled the keys out of the ignition.

 “I’ll try not to interact with you.” You speak up all of a sudden. “People might start suspecting things,” You nibble your bottom lip anxiously, “about me and why I was transferred here...Why I was in the inner city now I’m working in the North Heights, and arriving with the CEO...” He admits that you do have a point. 

“Ugh,” You drop your face in your hands, “who do I need to introduce myself to? I have a supervisor, right?”

“Yes, you’ve met her, Margeret.” He got out of the car and you followed him, your steps steady and deliberate. Taehyung walks confidently as if the ground was lucky to be graced by his steps. “She’ll tell you what to do.” 

“Okay...” You two walk into the elevator and when the doors close, he looks down at you, a grin on his lips. You furrow your brows when he continues to stare. “What’s that look for?”

“I like your top, it suits you.” He diverts his gaze, that grin still present on his lips.

“Oh...” You glance down at the basic blue blouse and you almost smile at the compliment. “Thank you.”

When the elevator stops at the desired floor, he steps out first and you follow with timid steps. You realize you’re back on the same floor you were called to the last time. Margeret is already walking from the coffee station with a cup of coffee and a smile.

“Good morning Mr. Kim.” She greets him with a bow and a smile. “The progress report for the Milan group  

“Thank you, Margeret,” Taehyung shuffles you forward with a hand on your back, “you remember Y/n, don’t you?”

“Yes sir, I remember.” She kindly smiles at you.

“She will be under your supervision from this day forward. Anything you need to be done, she can do it for you.” You could have sworn he said you’d have a job inspecting cameras or something, but being an assistant ain’t half bad.

“Oh,” She looked a little surprised but that expression quickly returned to a smile, “alright.” She turns to you as Taehyung walks into his office and closes the door.

“Y/n, I’ll have your work in the file room, for now, follow me please.” She walks behind her desk area and opens the door to the room back there. When you maneuver your way in front to get a better view of what’s in there, you’re met with a little office with a computer and some file cabinets.

“I need you to document the costs of each manufacturer and compare it to the preferred budget. If you could bring me what you’ve documented in the next two hours, I’ll have your next assignment.” 

“Okay,” You shuffle into the room and she closes the door, “okay...”

After a few minutes of figuring out the system, it doesn't take long before you’re typing up the first price comparison. Albeit boring, it is kind of nice to have a set list of things to do. Your other job wasn’t bad but unpredictable phone calls can be very stress-inducing, extremely so. Let’s just say, you partook in quite a bit of wine after the Christmas sales. 

Your new little job was going well until the screen froze and the screen turned blue. “What the heck...” You type a string of random numbers to maybe get the screen back to normal, but it does nothing—it might just need an update or something. You wait for a little bit, thinking it might go back to normal soon but nothing changes.

Meanwhile, you had tiptoed to the door to hear Margaret. She asked to speak with Taehyung and both of them are in his office, for some reason you were uncomfortable with the idea—but you shouldn’t be, right?

“What did you want to talk about?” Taehyung swivels in his chair slightly and Margeret stands with an uncharacteristic anxiousness that he quickly picked up on. 

“Mr. Kim, I hope this is not out of line but...Who is that girl?” She finally confesses what he knew she'd been thinking. “I just don’t understand. She came from the downtown office per your request, now she’s working here.”

Taehyung has a thoughtful expression, she’s not wrong to have her suspicions. But if he’s honest, he rather not explain the whole situation right now. 

“She’s just a bright employee that I think is valuable for the company. I can’t imagine how that would bother you.”

“Sir,” She made that face she always made before saying something truthful, “I’m always honest with you, right?”

“Yes, you’ve never tried to sugarcoat the truth,” He furrowed his brows, “why?...” Don’t say what I think you’re gonna say, don’t say what I think you’re gonna say-

“She just seems-...I don’t know, out of place. She’s a sweet girl and all, but you’ve never treated someone the way you treat her. You don’t like extra unnecessary people, that’s why you got rid of my last assistant.” He can’t deny that she has a fair point.

“What are you trying to say?” 

Now he’s getting annoyed.

“I did my research on her when I first met her, like I do all of your visitors, for your safety. And she’s not the most well-off woman in the world, I mean she worked downtown as tech support and she has no family out here.”

“Say what you’re trying to say.”

“Your father never did anything like this, what do you expect me to think? I think she’s a desperate young woman who’s found what she thinks is a cash cow. I think she’s a sugar baby.” 

She says that last part so cautiously—but you hear it loud and clear.

He’s shocked—and you’re offended. 

“Excuse me?” 

Is she serious right now? You hiss to yourself in the stupid little closet she put you in. Her hurtful words trigger sadness in you and you’re on the verge of tearing up. You are fully aware that she’s close with Taehyung and his father, but that’s just too much opinion to give. She has no right to research and ridicule the people Taehyung chooses to have around him. How can she be so quick to judge? Either way, you refuse to be supervised by someone who thinks so little of you.

You walk out of that room and with all the courage you could muster up, you knock on the office door. You noticed that their conversation comes to a halt when they hear you knock. You can feel Taehyung’s frustration radiating off of him in heavy waves. He is quick to open the door and his heart sinks into his stomach at the sight of you—he knows you probably heard everything.

He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

“Sir,” He winces at the way you address him, “This isn’t gonna work out...” 

You shoot Margeret a knowing-look but she avoids looking at you – that heifer. Before Taehyung can say anything, you’re storming off, and you know for the sake of hiding your true relationship, he has to keep himself from following you.

Margeret messed up.

“Look what you did!” He raises his voice for the first time and she’s surprised by his reaction.

“She fucking heard you.” You could have heard her if you were across the street but that’s beside the point.

“Taehyung, I have to be honest, if she eavesdropped and got butthurt, that’s not my problem. I don’t know her but I do know this-”

“You’re right, you don't know her.” He spat, cutting her off. His eyes are suddenly physically feeling like they were on fire. “You don’t know shit about her Margeret, and you were way out of line.” 

Her eyes widen, she has never ever, in her life, been scolded by Taehyung. She stands unsure for a moment before opening her mouth to say something, but closing with her head hung low. 

“I apologize, sir...I didn’t mean to offend you, I just-...I’m a married woman and I’ve seen these young single girls trying to make a financial mess of people's lives and I don’t want it to happen to you...I said what I said out of concern for you, I’m sorry if my delivery was poor.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, he dismisses her with a hand. It takes him a moment to process how he’s going to get you back and make up for his secretary’s bluntness. 

But you’re running down a flight of stairs, anger, and insecurity bubbling in your chest. Not only that, but your hearing went through the roof and you feel like anything you touch might melt. You’re burning up.

You’re not sweating, but it’s that same energy that burns. The energy you feel when you’re on edge and about to blow a light bulb or something—I need some water.  

When you reach the last flight of stairs, you practically leap to the exit. The cool air outside hits your face but you don’t care, you need to catch the first bus to downtown- oh wait, that’s right, you’re wanted. Public transportation is not an option right now, walking it is. With your light-weight jacket and little shoulder bag, you walk with your head considerably low, to avoid eye contact. Everyone is looking at me, they all know it’s me, they know it’s me. You took a deep breath and continued to stroll down the busy sidewalk. Unfortunately, you get stopped at a pedestrian walkway, and that’s when you look up. 

Oh no.

The agent that tried to take you away is standing on the opposite side of the street and he’s looking directly at you. For a moment, you pray he didn’t recognize you, but when he presses a finger to his ear, still maintaining eye-contact, he says, ‘I just found her, stand by.’ You book it out of there. Instead of waiting for the light, you make a right to try and lose him but he’s mirroring your path on the opposite street. 

“No, this can’t be happening,” You bite your lip, eyes searching for an alley or something you can run into, “why, why...” 

You make a sharp right into what looks like a slum infested alley beside an abandoned building. You look back and the agent is crossing the street and you freak out. You run into the old building and you instantly regret it when you get inside. It smells like urine and old wood since your sense of smell has been heightened lately, it smells a lot worse than it probably is. It’s an old abandoned restaurant, it’ll suffice for a suitable hiding spot. You can hear Jungkook’s footsteps approaching and you run as quietly as you can to hide behind the 20-foot bar that took up most of the little place. 

The wood creeks under your weight and you know he knows you’re in here. 

“Miss Y/L/n,” You cringe, “if you know what’s best for you, you’ll come on out.” He pulls the stun gun out of its holster and walks armed and prepared to fire at any moment. 

You can hear his footsteps approaching and you crawl as quietly as you can further down the expanse of the bar. 

You scream when you feel his hand on your wrist. “No!-” 

He managed to sneak up behind you and when you try to run, he turns you around and tries to cuff you. “Stop resisting!”

“Let go!” You yank against his hold, causing your self more pain than anything. “Let go of me! Let go-”

“You are being taken into custody for violating statewide protocol.” He proclaims as if that means anything to you.

“Let me go, I didn’t do anything wrong! I- I just-” You are becoming more and more worked up, eyes squeezing shut in frustration.

Jungkook is steadily trying to cuff you when he catches the eye of your hands and your wrists that are covered and glowing with luminescent veins. 

“Whatever you’re doing,” Jungkook leans in to hiss a threat into your ear, “you need to stop, right now.”

You’re confused unto what he’s referring to until you open your eyes and you can feel the familiar energy coursing through you—this is your chance, you can use your powers to get out of this. You’ve never really tried to do this before but there are very few options on the table now. You focus on bringing all of that feeling to your fingers. He’s speechless. He’s witnessing what looks like a light traveling down to your fingertips. Nope. He is not about to fight someone who appears to conduct electricity through their body, that's not within his pay grade.

Before you could even do anything, you feel a sharp pain in your neck and you fall unconscious. 

“Now this,” He supports your suddenly limp body before you fall to the floor, “is what I was trying to avoid.” He keeps you up with one hand before whipping out his cellphone to make a call.

‘Tell me you have her this time.’ Nelson said over the phone.

“Send a car and I’ll have her at the SRMA within the hour.”

Jungkook hung up, Nelson dialed Jane’s number immediately after.

Today is jogging day and she just hit the 3-mile mark. She decided to stop at a park bench to catch her breath before starting up again, and that’s when she got the call.

“Jane, Jane,”

Nelson spoke hurriedly over the phone, 

“they have her.”

She felt her heart beat faster and a smile crept onto her lips, and tears to her eyes. “Really?...”

“Yes. She’ll be proofed through the SRMA then I’ll her transferred to the facility, and then you can see her.” He knows she’s excited by the fact that she’s barely saying anything. 

“Is- Is she okay? They didn’t hurt her did they?” Nelson only smiles at the protective attitude towards you, even though she hasn’t seen you since you were an infant.

“Our best agent was on her case, no harm came to her. I can guarantee that.”

“I’ll be in the facility tonight, don’t let anyone do anything to her, got it? I don’t know how evolved she is.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

It’s quiet now—you can’t hear anything, barely even your own breathing. You’re laying on a small bed, head throbbing as soon as you moved to sit up. You were wearing a loose white shirt and long pants.

They got you.

All you remember is kicking this guy, getting hit on the head, and here you are. Taehyung was nowhere to be seen before you went unconscious.

You’re afraid, deathly afraid. When the man clamped a metal brace around your wrist, you panicked. All the lights blew, you felt a sharp pain in your neck and that’s all you can remember.

Just when you considered getting out of the bed, the door opened. Your heart sank into your stomach and you bit your lip, waiting to see who it was.

It was a woman, she looked about 40 or 50. For a moment, she just stared at you, eyes drifting from your face to your wrist, her eyes immediately furrowed.

She took a step into the room, closing the door as she continued to approach you. From what you can tell from her exterior, she’s harmless. But who is she?

“Did they hurt you?” She sounded concerned, her eyes saddening at the sight of contraption they put on you. “I told them not to touch you unless absolutely necessary…and they go and put this thing on you.” She reaches out to touch your arm and that’s when you go on the defense again, jerking away from her. She looks as if she regrets

“Where-…Where am I?” You seethe, clenching the sheet in your fists.

“You’re safe now…” She wears a sweet smile. “You don’t have to worry.”

“Who are you?…”

She doesn’t answer you, instead, she extends a hand in wonder. Her eyes are scanning you, analyzing your entire face.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” She sighs, “but you grew up to be so beautiful, Yves.”

You just stare at her, in shock—in terror. Mr. Kim told you who gave you that name, the woman who started this mess. So this is her. She’s the person responsible for your parent's brainwashing and their inevitable demise. Because of her, you grew up disgusted with who you are, you were convinced that you were a mistake.

All those years, your entire life had gone by with you assuming you’d never understand why. Why this was done to you, why anyone would basically sacrifice pieces of someone’s humanity without consent.

“My name is Jane,” She smiles, “Jane Sato.”

June 10th, 1981

“Happy birthday Lenny!”

The giggly 6-year-old blew out her candles and smiled when her mother began to cut her a huge piece of cake—probably too big for her little self. The party was a nice change for the rigorous studying Jane has been doing for school. She had just proven her research case study and her senior biochemists and doctors have been wanting nothing more than to work with her in opening her own center.

Unfortunately, after getting her slice of cake and watching Lenny open her presents, she had to get on the computer to work on some things. Jane sits at the living room table while her family watches a movie with Lenny and at times like this, she wishes she was gifted with a mind that required so much work.

“Jane,” Lenny suddenly hops off the couch and runs up to Jane with her new flamingo stuffed animal, “what’re you doing?”

“I have to write this paper that explains a patients condition, I’m sorry I’m doing this on your birthday, my deadline is tonight and I procrastinated,” Jane sits back from her computer and Lenny takes a seat on one of the stools with her poofy purple tutu.

“It’s okay, you always say ‘a doctor has a big responsibility,’ so I get it,” She replies rather maturely with a sweet smile, “I’m not mad.”

“How are you enjoying your day? Did you like the canvas and paint set I bought you?”

“I love it!” She smiles brightly. “How did you know I wanted it?”

“I just knew.” Jane simpers.

“Oh! Oh! I made you something this morning, let me go get it!”

Jane furrows her brows and waits for Lenny to come out.

“Here,” She comes stumbling in with her sketchbook and sits back in her seat, “I saw him in my dreams.”

When Jane looks a the piece of paper, she is at a loss for words. It’s a drawing of a boy in a pond of wilted flowers, a murky looking forest surrounds him, and dead animals lay at his side. This is the darkest drawing Lenny has ever created and it makes Jane’s heart sink at what this dream might mean. “Wow, um…Are those dead animals?”

“Yes, he controls the air…and he takes the energy of living things, it kind of scares me a little bit…” That made Jane even more worried because Lenny’s dreams never scared her. “But just a little, he’s actually a good person. He likes flowers, trees, he especially likes the sunlight.” She smiles.

“So, um, who is he? Does he have a name?”

Lenny hesitates, eyes drifting from Jane to the photo before giggling. “You should know his name,”

“How would I know his name?”

“He’s your son.”

He hasn’t heard from you since you walked out and you won’t answer any calls, it’s almost been 24 hours. It’s well into the morning and there’s not a trace of you anywhere. Maybe you were more than just offended by Margaret, maybe you’re angry—angry at your situation, angry at him for putting you in this position. But he doubts that you would just leave without telling him something. But he doesn’t know you, know you. He may have a connection with you but he hasn’t had much time to really pick up on your patterns and such. He can’t feel you anymore and that’s what scares him.

Taehyung resorted to his safe haven, his father’s home.

“I don’t know what to do.” His hand tightly held up a cup of green tea as he had to consciously make himself blink.

“And you said the last time you saw her was at your job,” He made a plate of stir-fry for him and Taehyung, knowing that was his son’s favorite, “why did she walk out?”

“Margaret wasn’t too thrilled that I brought her up from the downtown office to headquarters. I was shocked, she was going on about how she could be a gold digger and she even looked her up on the internet to screen her herself! I can’t believe her, she said she was trying to keep me safe but she was out of line. And of course, Y/n heard all of it. She came and told me that she didn’t think things were gonna work and then she just left.”

“Taehyung,” He took a seat, fork in hand, “she was hurt. On top of that, she’s probably worried about everything that’s going on with SRMA trying to screen everyone. And I haven’t known her for very long but I have a feeling that it takes a long time to gain her trust, just be patient.”

He sighs, not convinced that he should take the patient approach to this. “But I’m afraid something bad might’ve happened to her.”

“Maybe she went home- His father is cut off by the buzzing of his cellphone. The caller ID was unknown, yet, something in him felt the need to answer it.

“I’m sorry Taehyung, give me a minute, I should take this,” He quickly gets up and exits to the room, leaving Taehyung to dwell on his worry for you by himself.

He answers the phone and awaits the voice of whoever’s on the other end.

“Hello, is this Kim Taewoo?”

The female voice sounds the slightest bit familiar and his brows narrow.

“Yes, who am I speaking with?”

“It’s Jane…”

He nearly drops the phone and his eyes widen. “Jane…I haven’t heard from you in years, what’s going on?”

“I thought you’d be happy to hear from me,” She lets out a nervous laugh, “especially after all that’s happened. I just wanted to let you know that I-.” She pauses, silence filling his ears until she speaks again. “I’m doing well.”

“That’s great to hear Jane, now I’m sorry to sound so blunt but why are you calling?”

“I wasn’t going to tell anybody about this but I felt like I could trust you,” She takes a deep breath and sighs, “I found one of the children.”

“One of the children? I don’t know what you mean.”

“From the Flower Garden,” She’s surprised as to why he even asked that, she knows he remembers her taking him there, “I think it’s Yves. You remember, she was Winnie and Joon’s little girl, she has the full M2 gene through Winnie.”

“What?…How is that possible? I thought all of the children were lost and sent off to other countries, how could one end up here?”

“I thought so too, but none of the subjects from the other projects were like this. This has to be her.”

“And you’re sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. We plan to run tests today, hopefully we’ll find out what we can do.” She pauses, “I’m sorry, I have to go, but please, don’t tell anyone.”

“Wait, Jane, you-”

Dial tone.

She tucks her phone into her pocket when she heard the second knock on her office door. “Come in.” The door opens and she looks up, “Senator,”

“I came back as soon as I heard,” He sits he briefcase on the chair near the door and smiles at the petite doctor. “agent Jeon told me he was able to get her. How is she?”

Jane breathes, taking a moment to compose her thoughts.

“She’s fine, a little on edge but she’s okay.” She sits down, head shaking in disbelief, “I can’t believe I actually found her, she’s my life’s work…”

“What was so special about her? You said all of the children in the Garden were closest to pure offspring of the M2 gene. Why is she so different from the other children?”

“She’s one of the few that I was able to begin mutation on her almost as soon as conception. She’s one of the closest things to M2 carriers of the past, my hope was that she would grow up getting help with her abilities, but she’s been alone all these years and I’m not even sure when she started showing signs.”

“But she does have the abilities?”

“There’s no way she could not have them. The way she was designed, her energy is in sync with living organisms, light, electricity, she can control it and sense it.”

“Wow,” Nelson steps back, “then she’s more powerful then the others you’ve told me about. And she’s the only one like that, that’s amazing…”

Jane brushes her hair back, shaking her head. “She’s not the only one, she has a coequal.”

“What? You never mentioned that,” He furrows his brows, “she had a twin?”

“No, no, she’s an only child. There was another woman, I found her at an adoption clinic. I told her about my work and she trusted me to take care of him after he was born. It was only a few weeks after conception when I started work on the baby, the alterations for him were just as intense as Yves. Both of there mothers had similar symptoms during their pregnancies but his mothers were more draining. I had to monitor her closely because he would deplete her energy, make her really sluggish, almost to the point where she’d pass out. While he is Yves coequal, his power is- It’s the opposite. He sucks up energy.”

“Did you make them like that on purpose?”

She bites her bottom lip in thought, “I did, I hoped that one day they’d parent the first pure M2 child.”

“So why aren’t we looking for him?”

“Because he-…He’s gone. I don’t know how they did it, but someone took all of them and sent them away. It’s out of pure luck that we found Yves, I highly doubt he’s even in this country.”

“Hypothetically,” Nelson makes a thoughtful expression, pacing with a hand under his chin, “what if we did find him, what if we had them both together?”

“Well, they’re a dyad. If they were to come together, use their powers, honestly…There’s no limit to what they’re be capable of, I really don’t know the extent of their abilities.”

“Well,” Nelson looks down at his watch, “I have a meeting in 20 minutes, whenever you think she’s ready to meet me, let me know.” He picks of his briefcase and closes the door with a click.

Jane cringes, thinking of the truths she withheld from him.

She loved Yuma like her own, but she never knew how to get past the dream that Lenny once shared with her. The little boy in her dream was Yuma—the child was capable of draining the life from animals, plants, anything living. What he could do with it, Jane had no idea, but she feared finding out.

- Flashback -

The hallways were your least favorite, it’s what you hated most about school.

Girls congregating near your locker, talking, they’re always talking. Some boys, they’re really loud and they like to run past you and everyone else minding their own business. It takes a while to sneak through the people walking to their classes, or whatever they’re doing. Only when you fight your locker to open it do you see your academic advisor looking at you, it looks like she’s trying to say something. Oh hell.

“Miss, Y/L/n, can I see you for a moment?”

You pop out your earbuds and stick them in your pocket, this should be fun. You pull your hair forward, dragging your feet to enter that wretched little office.

“Hi, Mrs. Williams,” You deadpan, taking a seat in the gray chair that you’re all too familiar with.

“Y/n, I heard you got into a fight.”

“Did you?” You sigh.

“Y/n, don’t give me that.” She’s heard your B.S for years now. “What happened? They said you were in the cafeteria, Lena Bale and you just fell out.”

“She doesn’t know when to shut up…”

“Y/n, you can’t keep getting into situations like this. That’s not gonna look good on your record if you ever plan to-”

“I don’t plan to do anything.”

“Don’t say that…” She takes her glasses off, auburn hair falling on her face when she presses her temples. “Tell me what happened.”

“I stepped on her foot by accident and she just went off, she ripped off my earphones screamed at me. I flipped my tray at her…She overreacted.” “Sweetheart, I know it’s not easy, but you have to try to be the bigger person. Your aunt has asked me to look after you, and I want you to keep your head on straight, keep you on the right path.”

“For what?!” You stand up. “Why does any of that matter to you? I’m tired of everyone thinking they know what’s best for me, like they think I have some bright future at a perfect college, with a perfect major, a perfect family, and perfect friends. That’s never gonna happen for me!”

“So, you saw the news last night then.” You deflate instantly, sinking back into your seat when you think of what you saw. It hurt you to hear them re-tell the story on the anniversary of the fire, of how so many people perished. including your parents.

“I knew Winnie, we went to the same college.” She’s told you that more times than you can count. “And you’re just like her, you have so much heart, but you have to learn to let people in, let people see who you really are.” You want to cry because you hate who you really are, who you really are has never been accepted by anyone. You want to curl into a corner and cry, but you can’t do that.

“Now, get to class.” She rubs your shoulder and you get to leave, earphones returning to your ears.

You’re taken from your sleep when you hear a knock on your door, by the breathing, the field of energy surrounding the individual, Jane Sato.

The door opens and you quickly shuffle out of bed, standing to your feet. When she enters, you see your clothes in her hands, they look washed and folded.

“We washed these for you,” Her black hair sits at her shoulders and her face looks as kind as it was last night, “I thought you might want to put them back on.” She sits them on the end of the bed and keeps her distance.

“I know you’re probably confused and that’s understandable. But I want you to know that we don’t mean any harm, you’re here for your own safety.”

“You kidnapped me for my own safety?” You finally speak.

“The news stations have speculated that there’s a, for lack of a better turn, Sato-cross experiment, on the run for the while now, I assume it was you.” She sits on the end of the bed as you walk towards the window that seems to give you the view of what you think is SRMA’s medical city.

“Why do you think that?” You play dumb.

“Yves,” She stands up and walks towards you, “you don’t have to hide around me.” She places a hand on your shoulder.

“That’s not my name. My name isn’t Yves,” You shy away from her hand, “it’s Y/n.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n. Listen, I know you’re upset, but you have to understand, I thought I’d never see you again. Your mother, Winnie, she said if anything ever happened to her, to take care of you. After the fire, all of the children like you were gone and sent off without my knowledge, I couldn’t forgive myself,” Her head hangs low, guilt clawing at her chest. “but here you are.”

You stare at her silently, eyes sweeping over her with the utmost apprehension. She doesn’t mean any harm, you know that much, but this is a lot to take in. Life for you was awful because of this woman. She made something, she took someone and changed their fate for her own desires.

“So, you knew my parents,” You sigh, placing your hand on the window, “they were like you,”

“They believed in my work, believed that people like you were possible. Gifted people who hold powers and ability’s unseen for centuries.”

“People like me,” You have to scoff, it’s amazing how she speaks about you with such high regard, “look…I can’t stay here.”

You quickly step past her to grab your clothes but she grabs your arm before thinking. “Wait-” Regretting her decision immediately, she holds her hand to herself, wincing.

“I- I’m sorry,” You panic, dropping the clothes and walking far from her, “I didn’t mean to do that.”

“No, no! it’s not your fault. It’s your body’s defense mechanism, like a deterrent, I was pretty sure you’d develop this. Has this happened a lot in your life?”

You nod.

“Y/n, have you ever been to a doctor?”

“No- Well, when I was little, but that’s about it, I don’t really get sick.”

“Please, just let me look at you,” She pleads, “your anatomy and your DNA isn’t like ours, it’s delicate and I want to make sure you’re okay. Please, I can tell you about your parents, we can talk about your powers, anything you want to know.”

Your parents? There had been very few people who could tell you about them. It was always the same run-around about them being scientists and doing their own thing. No one had ever really told you about who they were as individuals, why they were so passionate about their work with at the SRMA. This woman has all the answers, and all you have to do is withstand a little check-up.

“Fine.” You pick up your clothes and sit them on the nightstand. “But I need to make a phone call, I need to let my friends know I’m okay-”

“I’m sorry, but we have a strict policy of no phone usage on this side of the center, after the check-up I can take you to the garden and you can call there. You’re welcome to freshen up before you come to the lab,” She stands in the door frame, “I’ll have my assistant bring you.”

She leaves with a kind smile and when the door closes, you rip through your clothes in search of your phone. They took your phone. There’s no way for you to contact Taehyung, but he’ll find a way. Something in you tells you he’s looking for you.

He’s worried about you.

“I haven’t heard from her in a while,” Hoseok closes his laptop and gathers his books, “I had an FBI agent come to question me about her.”

“Seriously?” Wendy stops typing and takes her glasses off in thought. “Geez, I hope she’s not in any trouble,”

“I can’t imagine her being in any trouble,” Hoseok defends, knowing Wendy had always had an aversion to your ambiguous past, you didn’t seem to have any family anywhere when you all met. Wendy has always been curious.

He even called your job yesterday, they said you had been transferred to another branch of the company. When they directed him to the new number, the woman on the phone said you weren’t in. “I’ll see you Wednesday, I’m taking off tomorrow to dog sit at my sister’s place,”

“Well, have fun, I’ll let you know if I hear from her,” She waves him goodbye, eager to get back to her internet surfing.

On his drive to his sister’s house, all he can think about is you. He doesn’t have a clue on where you might be, you haven’t answered texts, emails, calls, nothing. In his effort to settle on a conclusion of your whereabouts, he remembers you telling him that you were with a friend. Oh no, no, no. What if that “friend” is the reason for your disappearance? He knows some of the things you’ve been through, the very few unfortunate relationships you’ve experienced. That what scares him the most. He recalls vividly when you were fresh to the city, you came over his apartment with Wendy and his roommate Jin, because your car battery died. It was too late for you to be out by yourself so he convinced you to stay. In the dead of night, when he got up to use the bathroom, he found you on the back patio, wide awake.

He asked if you were okay, genuinely searching for an answer when you nodded. In the smallest of voice, you said, “I can’t sleep in a place where there are people I don’t know,” you had just met his roommate that night, “I’m sorry, I know I probably look silly, it’s nothing against your roommate, I just-…It’s hard for me to relax, y’ know?” You laughed, your eyes glimmered with a hint of sadness for a moment.

That night he saw you. The sides of you that you hid in front of everyone, the sides that made you vulnerable—your fear. He saw a glimpse of your true self and it made him feel closer to you. He stayed up with you that whole night, and you talked until sunrise.

After that, he made a promise to himself to always check on you. He assumes that you have since gotten over that fear, or maybe you haven’t, who knows.

He parks his car, glad to have made a speedy arrival to his sister’s place so he can get some rest. When he takes his weekender out of the car, he used his key to get inside to greet her hyperactive puppy. He coos over her like always, picking her up and taking her to the couch where he switches on the TV. He doesn’t pay much attention to it, he just uses it as background noise to his scrolling through his phone.

That’s when he gets a call from an unknown number. Hoping it might be you, reluctantly, he answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Jung Hoseok?”

“It is, who is this?”

The voice is deep, distinct, definitely not someone he knows.

“I’m a friend of Y/n’s, I just wanted to know if you’ve seen her this morning or last night even-”

“Wait, wait-” He stops the mystery man on the other end, “are you the friend she said she was staying with?”

“Yeah,” He answers plainly, “but she left yesterday and I haven’t heard from her. I was worried so I called the only number she’s contacted within the week, have you heard from her?”

“No…I’ve been under the impression that she’s been with you. Who are you? She’s never mentioned you before and it’s not normal for her to just stay with anyone, are you related to her or-”

He hangs up.

“He hung up,” Hoseok looks down at the phone in shock, “who is that guy…”

Hoseok is beyond worried now, he needs to know the true identity of this supposed friend of yours. He looks down at the number and decides to throw it in a search engine to see if he can find anything. The first few digits aren’t super familiar, he doesn’t know many people with that area code. The results that pop up don’t help him too much, but it shows that the number is calling from The North Heights. Since when have you had friends over there?

Taehyung went to work to pick up a few things from his office, but rather than taking his usual means of transportation, he decides to take the subway. Knowing that’s what you used to get around, he hoped that just maybe he might pass you. For a moment he thought he might get recognized, but with a casual hoodie and jeans, he doubts anyone will even spare him a glance.

The crowded subway comes to a sudden stop. People are getting on and some are getting off, he eyes the crowd especially hard, in hopes that he might see you. To his disdain, it’s just a bunch of strangers, no one interesting.

He looks around, watching the woman across from him typing on her phone. Her aura is so gold, it’s glowing transparently around her. That color could mean many different things; happiness, eagerness, jealousy, and even apprehension. It all deepened on the hue, the shade of the aura. Whenever he sees that color, his mind gets a little foggy, and as soon as that happens, the color begins to fade and that person becomes blurred from his vision.

When he confided in his father about it, he told him to try not to look if it made him feel unwell. That’s when they discovered that his body was reacting to the aura, in what way? They never had the resources to further research it, Jane invented most of the practices that went into making him. Unfortunately, there were some things Taehyung went through physically that his father wouldn’t know where to start in trying to help.

When the subway halts at his stop, he gets off, maneuvering through the crowd so he could start his walk back to his dad’s place.

It’s so quiet. That’s what he first notices when he walks along the sidewalk. His eyes follow the people walking in all different directions, hoping you might be there. But he’s only fooling himself, if you were around, surely he’d feel your aura.

When he enters his dad’s home, he sees that he already left to start his work shift. Not enjoying the silence, he trudges over to the couch and turns the TV on. Of course, the news is on and they’re covering the same forecast for the third time today, probably. He turns a deaf ear to it and leans back, not feeling good enough to start working. The thought that you might have just decided to leave him, it crosses his mind. But you wouldn’t do that, would you? It seems he’s discovered more about his powers in the short time that he’s known you than he has in his entire life.

It might seem too early to say, but he feels like he needs you around. Every fiber in his body seems to crave your presence in your absence. He’s never had this type of draw to someone, not even of his loved ones, not even his father. It’s not a platonic need, not an emotional or physical need, he’s not sure what it is. But ever since you two somehow merged consciousness, he’s felt the need to go back to that part of his dreams. But he doesn’t know if he can do it without you.

Selfishly, that’s one of the reasons he wants to see you. He thinks that maybe if you two can connect like that again, you’ll both gain some clarity about who you really are and what you’re capable of.

His eyes try to stay open, but he soon falls victim to sleep.

Gasping for air, his lungs expel water, and his body jerks forward. When he takes in his surroundings, he’s in what looks like a lake it’s as dark as night. Swimming to the edge, he hoists himself out of it and stands to his feet looking around for some type of familiarity. When he fully takes in the new environment, he’s in the forest. Trees and plants arch up, branches and vines hanging on them, ropy and sharp edges on it. Nothing bright and bushy with life like one would expect. The leaves are dark, not wilted but dull and heavy.

Cold. He’s ice-cold. A sensation he’s seldom felt in these dreams before.

“What is this place…” He mumbles arms hugged to his sides to supply some warmth to himself. His bare feet drag on the forest floor—it feels so real, it’s hard to grasp that this is only a dream. Curious to find out what this place is, he turns back to the body of water he came from. Coughing due to the cold temperature, he runs back to the body of water and stops when he reaches the edge.

It’s frozen over.

“What is this?…” He gets on his knees, staring down at the now icy body of water. Rubbing some of the ice from the top of it, he looks closer and for a moment he sees a light. Something familiar, warm. When he leans down to get a better look, the ice breaks under his weight, a sound that nearly shreds his eardrums before the cold abyss swallows him whole.

When he opens his eyes, he’s in the same darkness he had been in with you, and he’s completely dry, not a drop of water on him.

Warmth.

He looks around, gathering that this place looks similar to where he just was, but the plants are thriving bright green, the fruit is growing abundantly. Everything looks dewy, supple, ripe—nothing he’s ever seen before.

Light. The farther he walks towards it, the more it calls him—draws him in. Before he realizes it, he’s running, he’s running towards it. The closer he gets, the better he can see a silhouette, it looks like your silhouette.

“Y/n?…” He whispers, eyes narrowing when he notices you grow further away from him as he tries to get closer. “Y/n!” Desperately, he calls your name.

Why aren’t you looking back at him, can’t you hear him?

When he manages to get close enough to the aura surrounding you, he can only see the form of your body, almost appearing bare. It’s obvious that he’s not making any progress trying to follow you, so he stops, and that’s when you stop moving.

He’s entranced in the intense glow emitting from you, just trying to make out your frame. Suddenly, you start to look around, head-turning left to right, as if you weren’t sure where you were. All while you obliviously look around, he’s thrumming in desperation to get closer. Physically, his energy responds so strongly to you.

He can’t take the distance anymore, he takes a step towards you and he cringes when you release a bloodcurdling screech. Your body collapses and all he can see is darkness.

The warmth ceases, and he’s cold once again.

Jane sits idly by your side, gazing down at the IV in your hand and the sticky monitors all over your forehead. You began to toss a bit, a deep furrow in your brows.

Her assistant, Peony, is accompanying in your check-up. In the young doctor’s eyes, this is the highest honor Jane could give anyone working by her side. Not only is this a top-secret project, but no medical professional has ever gotten this close to a child of the Flower Garden. They were assumed to have been lost, but here you are, a full-grown woman with mysteries soon to be discovered.

“Dr. Sato,” She speaks softly, eyes not leaving the brain activity monitor for a moment, “the activity just spiked like crazy, I don’t know what’s going.”

“Let me see,” Reluctantly, she leaves your side to observe the monitor and she’s taken aback, “her brain activity is going to be much different than ours, but that is a bit unusual-”

The lights flicker.

“What was that?” Her assistant glances at you, watching your fingers twitch erratically.

“The power in this facility state-of-the-art, we don’t get shortages or anything like that because we’re not running off of the city’s power,” Jane furrows her brows, looking up at the lights that have since gone back to normal, “it must be her,”

It burns, it feels like your blood is on fire. The machines in the room, the lights on the ceiling, everything charged by electricity is connecting to you. Screaming at the top of your lungs, you try to wake yourself up.

You want to wake up, it’s too much.

Peony seeks reassurance from Jane with wide eyes, pushing her glasses up her nose out of nervous habit. They’re eyes drift over to your arms, and the glowing veins are something they’ve seen in other experiments. You have it too.

Both women duck down when they hear the building’s power surge. “Dr. Sato, what’s going on- Ah!”

“Dr. Sato, I think we should turn it off!” Peony holds her hands to her ears as Jane tries to turn off the monitor that’s now flashing bright colors that it definitely wasn’t meant to do.

She flips the switch off, brows furrowed when it does nothing at all. “It’s not shutting off- She’s- She’s powering it.”

The alarm starts blaring a painful screeching to their ears, the lights glow brighter, so much so that they look like they’ll pop. Peony’s mind immediately goes to the other patients in the building and she fears you might be affecting them.

Instinctively, she runs to the com so she can call an emergency code. Jane blocks her way to the phone, “No! Don’t call, she’s doing this, we just need to wake her,” Peony is struck with fear, she’s never seen anything like this.

“Y/n,” Gently, Jane shakes you a little, not fearing your ability to unintentionally hurt her.  “Y/n, wake up,” Biting her lip, she hesitates to but calls you by the name she knows you by, “Yves, wake up,”

Slowly, your eyes flutter open and your brows narrow at the now poorly lit room.

“Sweetheart,” Jane touches your arm lightly, “how do you feel?”

“I have a headache,” You hold your forehead, “what happened to the lights?”

“As soon as your brain activity started spiking, the lights, the fire alarm, my equipment—everything started overcharging, it was you. What were you dreaming about?” Jane inquires, “Peony, take notes on my laptop.”

Still, a bit shaken, Peony walks over to the desk and opens up the laptop.

You glance over at the assistant, Jane notices your hesitance. “Peony will be by my side as we do further testing, you can trust her.”

“I was in a garden, I think that’s what it was…I felt overwhelmed like I was connecting to something, I was trying to wake up.”

Jane stands, a notepad and a pen in her hands so she can have personal notes.

You pull the monitors off as you get out of the bed and walk towards the door, you open it before they can stop you. Jane doesn’t mind though, she glances at you as you peek out there and see the hallway lights off.

Have security check the circuit breaker, none of the 4% are powerful enough to cause something like this.

You clearly hear a male voice coming from one of the lower floors and it really hits you—you’re powerful enough to knock the power out of this huge building. Closing the door softly, you take a step back. For your entire life, you’ve wondered why you were given these powers, why it had to be you. If you really possess the gifts she says, how come you’re so unfamiliar with it? Taehyung didn’t as distanced from his powers as you but he still understood them better, he had his father there as support. But you had no family, no friends, you had no one.

“What’s the 4%?” You look at both of them, patiently awaiting an answer.

“How did you know about that?” Peony furrows her brows.

“I heard someone say it just now, somewhere downstairs, what is it?”

“Wow, I knew your sense was heightened, but your hearing is incredible,” She smiles, still taken buy all you can do. Your expression doesn’t change though and she clears her throat to answer your question.

“The 4% are individuals all possess the M2 gene. The M2-gene is a genetic trait passed down to a handful of humans, it’s supernatural gifting. I devoted the final project for my doctorate to prove it’s existence.”

She goes on to explain the M2-gene, the Flower Garden, the experiments, all the things Taehyung’s father had told you. The treatments, the experimenting process, she rambles on about it but one thing she hasn’t mentioned, Taehyung. If his father was right, she should be eager to tell you about him, even mention that you had someone out there who had powers similar to yours. You wished you had the powers Taehyung had, then you’d be able to read her. His ability probably came in handy when it came to interacting with you, you weren’t always truthful. You bet he’s wondering where you are and you wish you could tell him, but you fear to expose him to Jane. So you’ll suffer alone until you can find a way to leave. You don’t have to kindest of feelings towards her but she seems to care, that puts your mind at rest for right now.

You interrupt her, “Did you really know my parents? Personally,”

She falls silent, sitting down her notepad. “I did, and I know they’d do anything to be with you now.”

“Tell me about them,” You sit down, “my aunt and uncle didn’t talk about them much…”

“That’s where you were?” She never knew where they sent you. “Do you still live with them-”

“No, my uncle kicked me out when I was eighteen, I haven’t seen or heard from them since. I want to know everything you know about my birth parents, if you’re going to hold me here against my will,” Suddenly, the lights flicker back on and the building hums, the power coming back on, “I think you owe me at least that,”

“Alright,” She swallows, walking to the door and opening it up, “I have a section dedicated to all of the doctors and scientist who helped me, everything I know about them is there.”

“Can you take me there?” You walk up to her, eager to finally learn something about them that wasn’t just a picture that you stole from Taehyung.

You want to know who you are, where you came from—who you would have been had you met them.

*

She’s showing you everything you’ve asked to see without hesitation. It is so surreal. The person you had always imagined behind the name Dr. Sato acted much differently in your mind. Now that you’re standing face-to-face with the woman you cursed throughout your teen years in a moment of frustration – but you’re not angry. She looks at you with infatuation, complete and utter infatuation. She tries to make it subtle but with her little henchmen following her every move and writing down your answer to every question, it’s obvious she has a tiny obsession. That’s reasonable.

“This was your mother’s journal and your father’s bracelet with your name on it,” Jane opens a drawer and hands you a purple journal and a thin gold bracelet with a little plaque on it, “she tried to write down every little thing about the pregnancy, and things she wanted to tell you when you got older. And your dad had the bracelet made just a few days after you were born, he was gonna give it to you when you got a little bigger. I hope I could give it to you one day,”

With hesitant hands, you take the dainty bracelet, admiring it and the spelling of  Yves in delicate calligraphy. Closing the bracelet in your fist, you open the journal. A smile comes to your face when you see the inconsistency in some of the manuscripts, a problem you used to struggle with. As hard as you try, you can’t bring yourself to read any of it. Because once you’ve read it, the words she dreamed to tell you, they’d be out in the open. No more wondering. What if you were disappointing? What if the hopes and dreams she had for you were things you couldn’t amount to, would she be proud of who you are? You always hoped she would.

“I don’t have anything from my parents,” You close the journal holding it to yourself protectively, “thank you.”

“Of course,” She glances down at your clenched fist. “Do you want to wear it? I can put it on for you,” She offers, anxious to see if you’ll brush her off or let her help, “it clips on and off-”

“I’m fine, thanks…” You clear your throat, walking off to the other side of the little museum-like space. Suddenly, as if you were back in the dream realm, you sense something hot. It’s just for a split second but it was so weird, you almost dropped the journal. You must have looked spooked because Jane is looking at you with concerned eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little tired, I think I need to get some sleep, it’s been a long day,” You see if she’ll take the bait and let you go to your room.

“Oh! I’m sorry, of course, yes, I can imagine you’re exhausted. You’re welcome to stay in here a little longer and you know where your room, I’ll see you later,” She leaves the room with Peony on her tail and you wait until you hear their footsteps grow further before you let yourself react.

“Huh…” You look down at the journal, still not ready to read it, but even having it in your hands is enough right now. Placing your hand on the window, you pray that Taehyung can wait for you a little longer – just until you’ve found what you’re looking for.

The senator is on his way to a conference on the other side of the city, he’s been asked to talk about the new policy. It’s been deemed necessary for all citizens born between 1992 and 1998, it’s newly been suggested that all citizens consider visiting SRMA.

Just when he thought things were getting interesting, it gets more interesting. He gets a call from agent Jeon. As he holds the phone to his ear, his relaxed expression twists into one of confusion when Jungkook rambles on. “Wait, wait, the memorial?”

Jungkook is a safe distance away from the lake, gazing at it with more confusion than curiosity, “Yeah, the gates and the Mantra in the garden is just- It’s- it’s all on fire.”

In the large garden where the memory of Lenny and the Flower Garden lay, the 8-foot gate and the once-grand plaque in the middle of the garden burns. The letters spelling Jane’s younger sister’s full name, Lenoir, melt before their eyes.

Humans can be morphed into something greater, stronger, and far more beautiful through science and mutation. Through technological advancements, the idea of physical imperfections, chronic illness, genetic disorder, and even the common cold will be made history through rigorous genetic and biological alterations. There is no denying that a human’s DNA is beautifully made, but the M-2 gene will usher in a new being, radically transforming humans with abilities beyond our comprehension. 

All of that was once in the middle of the garden in front of the fountain, and it’s up in flames, along with the water in the fountain.

“I’ve never seen anything like this, it’s definitely the work of someone but I’m not sure why anyone would do this here.” Jungkook looks around, see no other part of the garden is touched, 

“This part of the facility is blocked off from the public and some of the staff if someone was trying to make a statement, it looks like they were making it to Dr. Sato personally.”

The firemen frantically raced to put the fire out, but they’re too late. The gates are destroyed, the plaque and the fountain still have flames that devour the former beauty.

Greene groans, pressing his temples firmly. “Does she know about this? She’s working on something really important right now, we don’t need her upset about this right now.”

“Okay, sir,” He sighs, “but she comes out here almost every morning, she’s gonna find out.”

*

In the forest outside of the facility, a pale-skinned dark figure sits in the highest tree, watching the little haven go up in flames with a devious smile. His hands have a lingering burn but that will always fade in time, this was worth it. The thought of Jane’s face when she sees this, one might have pity but the pain she’s put him through, the pain she’s caused – she can’t ignore this.

[monsteramongmen-tamer]

#35: “About the baby...it’s yours.” & #41: “I’m pregnant.”  -Roman Reigns.

Thanks anon for the request. 

Tagging: @kaitlynwwefan, @panic-angel3314, @shieldgirl95, @earl-01, @nickie-amore, @blondekel77, @reigns420, @littleprincess1621, @m-a-t-91, @luckygillblog, @finnbalorsbabygirl, @unabashedwwesmut, @blackwidow2721, @wrestlingimaginesposts, @wweburnitdown, @thirstiswet, @princesstoniii, @birthday-prinxess, @princess3733, @princesses-reign-daily, @lip-sync,  @laziestgirlintheworld, @lclb13, @tinyelfperson

Warnings: ANGST as hell.

A/N: If you’d like added to my tag list, just let me know. 

Work lately was amazing. You had an amazing job that you actually enjoyed going to everyday. You were a nurse. Being a nurse comes with a crazy schedule. You currently worked in the ER and you were always busy. But that was what you loved. You never got bored and there were always things to do. New things came in every day.

Keeping busy was what distracted you from your home life, or lack of. Your boyfriend was always on the road, so you were always home alone. That’s why you always agreed to take the extra shifts at work. But lately, shifts were getting more difficult. You were getting sick. But that was no problem. You just hung out in an empty room with a basket, did your throwing up, and stuck yourself with an IV.

It was funny, how your relationship with Roman started. You both ended up at the same bar one night after a rough break up. You found your boyfriend in bed with another woman. Roman’s wife just couldn’t handle him being on the road all the time. Especially with the kids. So, she left him. It was so hard on him. It started out you guys just sitting in a booth talking about your problems, then it was texting, but one night when Roman got home from work, he invited you over. You didn’t think anything of it, because you guys were friends.

When you went over there, he had wine and things just ended up happening. From there on out, you’ve just been a thing. You were happy, he was happy. Things were great. The sex was phenomenal. It was a strange relationship in most eyes, but it was what worked for you guys.

This week was going to be about 6 months you’ve been together and you and Roman had planned on hanging out together at his place. It had been 3 weeks since you last saw him.

While you were getting ready to head over there, you get a phone call from work. They need you to come in.

You sighed when you got off the phone and sent Roman a text.

   -Hey babe. Something came up, can’t make it tonite. So sorry. I will see u tomorrow.

So, you went in and worked the night shift. It felt like the longest night you’ve ever worked. There was a mentally ill patient that kept trying to grab you and was hitting you on your side. When you looked in the mirror when you got home, you could tell it was going to leave bruises.

You went home and passed the hell out.

When you woke up, there were tons of missed calls and text messages. Work called again. They needed you to come in again. They begged. You tried to tell them no, but they convinced you. Can’t just say no because your boyfriend is in town. Roman also texted you to make plans. You agreed to meet with him to have lunch.

You got ready, but wore your scrubs, and noticed you were starting to bruise. Great.

Roman got a table at your favorite place.

“Hey babe, work clothes?” He asked, looking at you confused.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. They need me again. I couldn’t tell them no.” You said with a pout.

“You realize tomorrow is my last day in town…” He said, looking down.

You grabbed his hands, “I know. And I’m all yours. I’ll even shut my phone off if I have to. But today, I have to go in. I’m so sorry.”

The two of you ate your lunch and Roman was kind of quiet. You figured he would be upset, and you would be too if it had been you. But you couldn’t blow off work to just stay at home and do who knows what.

Roman kissed you on the cheek before walking away. He was still upset.

Should you call in? No. You can’t that’s why you’re going to work in the first place.

So, you went to work and it was another rough shift in the ER. A bunch of druggies were brought in and one of them were violent. The man tried to strangle you. He did manage to get his hands around your neck, but thankfully authorities came to your rescue before anything got worse.

You were used to people beating up on you, but today just wore you out. You took a minute for yourself and sat in a bathroom stall. It wasn’t long before you got nauseous and were throwing up. When you came out of the stall, one of your co-workers was standing by the sinks.

“You’ve been gettin’ sick a lot lately. You pregnant?” She asked.

You laughed, “Pshht,  no I’m not pregnant. Probably just the flu going around.”

She nodded her head at you and gave you a judging stare and then left. You took a handful of water and splashed it on your face. That helped a bit. But you couldn’t help but to think...could you be pregnant? You haven’t gotten your period this month, and you should have gotten it last week, you’ve been getting sick. You haven’t had sex in about a month.

“Shit.” You said to yourself.

You then went straight to the pharmacy and bought 4 pregnancy tests. You had to be sure. You then went and bought a large pop and went to the lounge. Once the druggies left, things slowed down.

In the bathroom stall, you felt yourself begin to breath heavy. You peed on all 4 tests. Now you wait.

Your few minutes were up and you looked at the first test.

Positive.

The rest of them read the same thing. You couldn’t help but cry. You wanted to be a mother, but you always thought you’d be married. And right now was a bad time.

You pulled out your phone and texted Roman to see if you could go over to his place after work. He said yes and that he needed to talk to you.

You got off your shift and headed over there. You kept the pregnancy tests and put them in your bag.

Roman was sitting on his couch playing a video game.

“Hey.” You said, sitting on the other side of the couch.

“Hi..” He said.

“How was the rest of your day?” You asked him.

“Fine. Stayed here did nothing, went to the gym, came back and did nothing again.” He said in a very monotone voice.

“Look, Roman I know you're mad, but-”

“Are you cheating on me?” He asks, cutting you off.

You looked at him with wide eyes, taken back, “Excuse me?”

“Are you cheating on me while I’m on the road. Be honest.” He asked, now sitting up looking at you right in the face.

“I cannot believe you are asking me this. What makes you think I’m cheating on you?” You asked.

“Oh I don’t know. You decide to suddenly “work” all the days I’m home, you ignore my calls and texts throughout the day, and I can see a bruise on your neck. Is that a hickey?! I knew it!” He said.

“Roman, are you drunk?” You asked.

“Don’t change the subject. I’ve had a few drinks, yes, but we are talking about you here.” He said.

You shook your head in disbelief. Did he really think that low of you?

Just when you thought you should leave, you decided to get into it. You stood up and shut his video game and TV off. Then you took off your scrub top, revealing all of your bruises.

“Look, you think I’m sleeping with someone else? Do you not know what I have been though? See this bruise right here, on my stomach? One of my mentally ill patients did this because he couldn’t control his arm movements. Kept hitting me repeatedly until I managed to give him his meds. These, on my arms? A worried husband grabbed me too tight because he was worried about his wife who got into a car accident. And this lovely one on my neck? We had a group of druggies come in and one tried to attack me. I am lucky security came in and got him off of me before I was strangled to death. But yeah. I am just sleeping with someone else. I am so glad you’re so concerned about you, Roman.” You said, putting your scrub shirt back on. He just looked down at his beer bottle, not saying a damn word.

You went to the couch and grabbed your bag, “By the way, I’m pregnant.”

Roman looked at you like he saw a ghost.

Right before you walked out the door you turned around and looked at him, “Oh, and in case you’re wondering about the baby...it’s yours. Jerk.”

Then you slammed the door.

Walking down to the car, you were a bawling mess. You luckily made it to your car without anyone noticing you. You waited for the tears to dry up before driving home. Just as you were pulling away, you saw Roman running outside.

As soon as you got home, you went straight to bed. You weren’t working tomorrow, so you were just going to sleep. Roman left today as well, but he was the last person you wanted to see.

You woke up to the sun shining in your face and a loud knocking at your door.

As soon as you got to your feet, you had to run to the bathroom. Morning sickness really was no joke.

You flushed the toilet and there was still knocking at the door. It was only 7:30am.

Opening the door, you saw it was Roman. You immediately went to close it, but he was too strong, he opened it and came in.

“Y/N, I really need to talk to you.” he said.

You turned around and snapped at him, “About what Roman? You said enough last night.”

He ran his hands over his face, “I know and that’s not like me. I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have thought that. I was talking to the guys and-”

“You talked to the guys about this?! So they think I’m some whore too?!” You began to yell.

“Y/N, please calm down. I didn’t know any better. I thought you were avoiding me.” He said.

“I was at my damn job.” You said.

“I know that now. I’m sorry.” He said.

“Sorry can’t take back what you said. And frankly, I can’t even look at you right now.” You said, looking towards the hallway.

“I understand. I deserve that.” He said.

“Damn right you do.” You said almost under your breath. “You should just go.”

It took a minute, but eventually Roman did leave and didn’t say a word.

Right now, you needed some space. If he wanted to be apart of this child’s life, you weren’t going to keep that from him. But right now, you need to start planning on bring another human into this world. It isn’t just about you anymore.

The next move is up to him.

[swiftedbethy13]

I’m now going to tell you about the most magical and amazing experience I’ve ever had and ever will have. This post is SO long so go grab some popcorn 🍿

So on October 2nd I was working a nightshift. It was little to do and just went in and checked my emails. I saw two emails from twitter saying Taylor Nation had sent me a DM!! I panicked so bad and went on my twitter to check if it was real. And on my twitter I have two DMs from Taylor fucking Nation. I stared shaking so bad and could barely breathe. The message said *CONFIDENTIAL MESSAGE* and that they have a secret, special event they would like to talk to me about, and to send my full name, phone number and best time to contact me. Have you ever tried typing in details like that while your hands are shaking so bad like you’re on drugs?! ITS HARD MAN! I obviously gave them my details (duh), and told them my lips are sealed and it sounds so exciting! Then I panicked cos I thought my reply was too late, and had to ask if I was too late, and then I apologised for sending them so many messages 😂 They said “haha you’re all good, thanks doll”. Then I was supposed to take care of newborns and their moms and stay calm at the same time. IT WAS SUCH A STRUGGLE! I had to go to the bathroom to try and breathe.

We were not supposed to tell ANYONE, but I just had to send my friend Lyndsay a message saying it’s important to check you DMs on twitter often. And she replied “I know, you too…” and I just KNEW she had gotten a message too. If she replied with something different I wouldn’t have told her anything. We started freaking out together and it was beautiful.

I didn’t know when to expect a phone call, all I knew was that I need to have my phone on sound at all times. Like you can’t miss the most important phone call of your life! I had an evening shift the next day and told work I just have to have my phone on sound cos I’m waiting for a very important phone call. Every time my phone rang I just immediately panicked 😂. I can’t remember the time but I was at work and in a patients room when my phone started ringing. I quickly said “sorry I have to take this” and ran out of the room. I look at my phone and it’s calling from New York 😱 I die and start shaking and answer. It was Ali calling from Taylor Nation!! She confirmed it was the right person she was talking too and gave me some more details. It was going to be a secret special event in London on Friday the 13th of October from 4pm-11pm. She asked if I was going to be able to make travel arrangements and I was like “duh YAS OF COURSE”. She told me I could bring a plus’s one, and since I knew that Lyndsay was already going, I gave them my friend Alex’s details. She told me again that this was confidential and I couldn’t speak about it to anyone except my parents, guardian and boss at work. I was going to get more information early the week following. I probably sounded like the most bored person cos I was IN SHOCK, like I was just “yeah” “uhu”, “yes”, and didn’t show any excitement at all 😂. She hung up and continuing work was the hardest thing EVER!

I made travel arrangements and sorted hotels with my friends. I was already going to London on the Sunday till Wednesday before the event on Friday, so I knew the week would go quick anyways. On Sunday evening I out of the blue get an email. I was at the hotel with my mom having a pamper evening, and I was SO THROWN OFF COS I THOUGHT I WOULD GET IT ON MONDAY OR TUESDAY. My mom filmed my reaction to getting this email and it shows how Taylor Swift makes me feel nearly 24/7 😂. The email again said that it was confidential and not to post anything about it or tell anyone. They gave us an address for a Holiday In hotel where we were going to meet up. They said not to bring too much personal belongings cos this was going to be taken off us as well as our phones. AT THIS POINT I STARTED TO BE MORE CERTAIN THAT I WAS GOING TO A SECRET SESSION. Hence my reaction to getting the email lol. I still tried to not get my hopes up, and tried to tell myself that maybe I’ll get to hear a new song and have a swiftie party. Good thing I was in London and could get myself an outfit. OMG IVE NEVER BEEN MORE STRESSED ABOUT FINDING AN GOOD OUTFIT EVER!! I did find it by the help of my really good friend!

THIS STORY IS GETTING SO LONG, sorry 😂 Well done for getting this far. I’m going to skip forward to Friday now (aka the best day of my life).

So, FRIDAY THE 13TH. I get up at 4am to catch my flight to London. My stomach is doing backflips trying to catch butterflies cos I was so excited and nervous and anxious at the same time. I couldn’t listen to any Taylor music cos I would just start to cry, so I ended up listening to P!nks new album (which is amazing btw). When I get to London I meet up with Lyndsay, Megan and Alex. We head to the hotel where we are going to stay and to meet up. Here we get dressed and as I was to put my makeup on I realise that I’ve forgotten all my make up and I go in a full on panic. IM SUCH AN IDIOT! Luckily Megan had makeup I could borrow. After we got ready we headed down to outside the hotel. There were loads of girls with red lipstick and dresses so we knew we were in the right place 😍. We qued up outside, they were running late, think we stood outside for 40 minuets maybe. We then got to the front of the line and inside (finally cos I was freezing my ass of). Taylor Nation was there ready to sign us in!! We signed a confidentiality contract and showed our ID and GOT OUR WRISTBAND!!! (KANDJFJRJDJ)!! It said United Kingdom on it, written in reputation font!!! SO EXCITING! We then went down the stairs to a room with lots of chairs in. There were refreshments, and hot drinks (yay for cold me!) for us while we waited for further instructions.

Then we were told to leave our stuff behind, including phone, and the first 25 people went on a bus. Me and Alex got on the second bus. Now I stared getting SO nervous, it’s ridiculous. Before we went on we where scanned by security. Then the bus took off! We drove a title while and was driving through the most posh neighbourhood EVER, like I WANNA LIVE THERE! The bus stopped and we were told to be quiet while we went off. I realised we were at a house, and you could only guess I was thinking we were at TAYLORS HOUSE!! There were lots of security while we were taken in a back entrance of the house and in through the basement. I had to knock on the door 😂 (so I could say I knocked on Taylor Swifts door, I know I’m extra 😂). We got scanned by security again before we were taken up to the kitchen. GUYS, THIS HOUSE IS AMAZING!! ITS SO HUGE. We still haven’t by this point been told where we are, but duh 🙄. I KNEW we were at Taylor’s house. Her kitchen is beautiful! She has 4 ovens!! There were lots of snack on the counters. Homemade chicken nuggets, fruit, cheese and fizzy drinks. There were also REP cookies!! And REP m&ms! SO COOL! Andrea and Scott was also in the kitchen talking to other fans. Me and Alex just hung around and talked to a few people. Then Lyndsay and Megan arrived, we hugged each other cos they also realised where we were. We then ended up talking to Scott. He has never been to Norway!! And I told him he neeeeeds to come here.

Her house smells AMAZING. I obviously had to see which candles she was burning so I could by them 😂. We were then told to get in a line as we were going to a different room. This was after everyone had arrived and had some food. Me, Alex, lyndsay and Megan were quite up front as we were taken to a living room. There were cushions on the floor and we sat down. I sat down not even thinking about where. Me and Alex chose a high cushion and shared it. A 100 people was going to fit in this room and it got really tight! When everyone had found a spot there was some whispering and the door opened a little. THEN THE QUEEN THAT IS TAYLOR SWIFT WALKS INTO THE FUCKING ROOM AND IM SCREAMING. We were so loud! I FUCKING LOVE HER SO MUCH 😭😭 Like I couldn’t believe she was like right there in the same room as me. As I was having difficulties breathing she sat down like 2 meters away from me and Alex, we had such a good view of her like OMG. Then she said we were going to hear the whole FUCKING ALBUM AND WE DIED. We now knew this was A FUCKING SECRET SESSIONS PEOPLE! SHE ALSO SAID SHE HANDPICKED EVERYONE! I FUCKING DIED! TAYLOR HAS LURKED ME FOR A YEAR WITHOUT ME KNOWING 😭😭 I’ve never had a like or a follow, and I don’t have many followers on any social media. STILL SHE FOUND ME! I’m got eye contact with her so many times during the listening 😭😭😍! SHE IS SO HAPPY TOO!! I JUST LOVE HER SO MUCH! AND IM TELLING YOU GUYS THIS ALBUM IS BLODDY AMAZING. (If you think you are stupid enough that I’m going to tell anything about the album, you are being funny, don’t bother asking 😉)

After she had pledged the album we got to look through the magazines!!! THEY ARE AMAZING AND IM SO HAPPY I WILL BE ABLE TO BUY ONE WHEN THEY COME OUT!! Then we waited to meet her JENFBDJSSHHSHDB 😭. I was getting so nervous by this point. Like I was going to meet the one person who has been there for me for so many years and I get to tell her how much I love her. We were one of the earlier ones to be sent in to meet her. Megan and Lyndsay were in front of us and a free they finished it was our turn.

I RAN OVER TO HER AND HUGGED HER AND SHE DIDNT LET GO UNTIL I DID 😭😭 I just couldn’t believe what was happening. She then hugged Alex and told me SHE FUCKING LOVE MY OUTFIT! She said “I love this whole outfit situation going on” I died. I told her that it’s not something I wear a lot and she said “you should definitely do!” IM OBVIOUSLY NEVER TAKING THIS OUTFIT OFF. Alex then said he wanted to wear the same outfit but we couldn’t match so he said I could wear it, and she laughed 😂 I love how we had a sarcastic conversation with Taylor Swift 😂 She then laughed at Alex’s apology for his bored resting face. I’m SO PROUD OF HIM SPEAKING TO TALOR, you have no idea! ❤️❤️ Then we were told to move to the side a bit cos they were going to open up the front door (so no one could see she was living there). This gave us more time with her and I’m so grateful! I then asked her about anxiety with singing and she gave me tips on singing and performing in front of people. TAYLOR FUCKING SWIFT GAVE ME ADVISE ON SINGING AND PERFORMING!! JJDNDJDJFJRJD. Alex then thanked her for giving him the best friends ever and she hugged us both again 😍 Then it was time for picture. We didn’t plan a pose, we just took one. SHE RESTED HER HEAD ON ME AND I SISNT NOTICED BEFORE I SAW THE PIC! It’s so adorable 😍 There were so much more I wanted to tell her, wish I had a few more minutes but I guess she had ALOT of other people to meet.

We then went out in the hallway and ended up talking to Andrea. She reminds me so much of my mom!! She is also a bit similar! I told her about my mom and that she was worried I was sleeping in the airport by my self the following night. We then talked about how happy Taylor is and she was tearing up 😭 It was so beautiful to see how happy her parents were for her 😍😍 We gave her a biiiiig hug and then walked down to the basement again. There we stood trying to comprehend what just happened. I still don’t believe it, don’t know if I ever will? We then got merch!!! We got a REP tote bag, pop socket, t-shirt, a sticker, a cap and the best thing ever, a exclusive keychain that only us on the secret sessions London got. IT WAS SO NICE OF THEM! We were then sent on the bus back to the hotel. There we spoke to Ali about confidentially again and what we could talk about and not. She is so sweet!! Megan and Lyndsay old us TAYLOR KNEW WE WERE IN NASHVILLE TOGETHER 😭😭 OMG!!

When we came back to the hotel I called my mom and SOBBED. I couldn’t even talk to her cos I was crying too much. Then I posted online on my social media about what happened and my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

I AM SO GRATEFUL FOR TALOR SWIFT. THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR THIS!! And thank you to Taylor Nation for giving us this opportunity, it means so much to us ❤️ The picture ended up perfect and I’m going to hang it on my wall so I can stare at it everyday 😍 I’ve been crying since Sunday cos this has been so so emotional to me. I can’t even tell people what happened without crying.

@isturkeyanickname

I’m sorry this story is a mile long 😂

Thank you so much @taylorswift and @taylornation

[ryukoishida]

Arslan Senki Fandom Day 2017 [Encounter] | The second instalment of how idol!Gieve and singer-songwriter!Isfan meet and fall in love.

Written for Arslan Senki Fandom Day 2017 – [Encounter]

Title: Primadonna and the Piano Man [Part II] Author: ryukoishida Character(s)/Pairing(s): Isfan/Gieve Summary: This is the story of how one of the nation’s top idol Gieve and bestselling folk-rock musician Isfan meet (and eventually fall in love). [Idol/Musician!AU] Rating: T Warning: N/A A/N: The song that Isfan and Gieve worked on is based on “Lost One’s Weeping”, links of which you will find in the reblog! 

---

Sing When You’re in Love Series:

i. We Sing We Dance We Steal Hearts ii. We Sing We Dance We Fall in Love iii. Untitled iv. This Storm, It’s Coming v. I’m Yours (and so are they) vi. Primadonna and the Piano Man [Prequel] [Part I | Part II]

---

Despite their temporary truce, their journey to achieve a top hit pop song is perilous and full of conflicts.

The first two sessions mostly involve the two of them throwing general ideas back and forth at each other. The discussion goes from the target audience to the genre of music they want to make. While Gieve is known for his catchy dance pop and sugary love songs mostly aimed at the younger teenage audiences, Isfan’s style strays from folk-rock songs dedicated to nature and romance to melancholic ballads of lost identity and destructive love.

After much shouting, pen-throwing, and paper-crumpling, they’ve finally decided the theme of their song would be about the burdens of education and pressures of expectations that many young people and students face nowadays. It’s a serious but relatable topic that would engage a wide range of listeners. As for the genre, Gieve wants to do a mellower, stripped-down, acoustic version — something that’s more forlorn and heart-wrenching; however, Isfan wants to make it into a rock anthem, angrily declaring the dissatisfaction and resentment, and calling for an action to change.

They reconcile with the decision to try both versions for now, and only after discussion with the producer and other staff will they make their final choice.

Then the song-writing process begins, and it doesn’t get any easier from there.

“This riff here doesn’t sound right,” Gieve, who’s sitting on a stool next to Isfan’s piano bench, is saying as he points at the eleventh and twelfth bars on the music sheet, which have been scrawled with Isfan’s neat handwriting, drawn notes and lines. “It’s not enough…”

“Not enough…?” Isfan glances over at the idol, a single eyebrow quirked up in question and his hands still hovering above the keyboard.  

“You know: flair, energy, pizzazz!” Gieve waves his hands in a huge arching gesture, hoping the other man will understand.

Isfan stares blankly back at him, uncomprehending.

“Can you be any more vague?” Isfan heaves out an exasperated sigh and shifts over a little. “Why don’t you just show me? Here.” He pats the empty space next to him, and Gieve only hesitates for half a second before he accepts Isfan’s invitation and plops himself down on the bench.

The worn-out leather and oak seat isn’t really suited for two full-grown adult men, and so even with Isfan basically sitting on the very edge on one side, Gieve’s arm still lightly brushes against his whenever the idol moves just the slightest.

Not that Isfan is paying any special attention to how warm and comfortable Gieve feels sitting so closely next to him, or how nice he smells from whatever cologne he’d sprayed himself with that day, or how elegant and sensual his pale, slender fingers look against the black and white keys of the piano.    

“Hmm, I’m thinking maybe something like this,” Gieve plays a series of notes that’s similar to what’s written on the music score, but with a slight variation to the rhythm so that the entire riff sounds a little livelier, a bit richer, than before. He tries a few more variations, his eyebrows puckering in deep concentration as he plays and teases the melodies much like how he does with the strings of his guitar. His glasses are sliding down the bridge of his nose but Gieve doesn’t even seem to notice, and Isfan has the strongest urge to reach over and fix it for him.

“Isfan… Isfan! What do you think?”

“Sorry, what was that?” Isfan instinctively shifts back and almost slips and falls off the bench when he realizes just how close Gieve is — close enough that if he ducks his head slightly, his lips would be touching the soft hair by the idol’s temple.

“The riffs — the ones I just played for you — which one do you think is better?”

To be honest, Isfan has stopped functioning after the first one Gieve has played. Gods. Staying in this god-forsaken studio with no natural lighting coming in for six hours straight is doing weird shit to his mind; he needs a break, and maybe a snack.

“Do you want to go for a break?” Gieve asks as if he’s just read his mind.

“Do you mind? I can use some caffeine and cup noodles.”

Isfan’s stomach growls in agreement.

“You know both those things are bad for your throat, right?” Gieve is surprised to find that the singer-songwriter, who seems so solemn and a stickler for rules at first glance, cares so little about his diet. Having healthy bodies and protecting their voices are especially important for artists like themselves, so ever since Gieve started training with his idol unit, he’d maintained a strict diet and exercise regime.

“Let me have some fun, mother,” Isfan yawns, standing up to stretch. His jeans ride low on his hips and a sliver of tanned skin is shown for just a few seconds, but the little display is enough to give Gieve a tiny heart attack, his cheeks flushing and turning uncomfortably warm.

He clears his throat, and turns away to face the piano when Isfan glances down at him.

“Wow. You? Fun? I never thought I’d hear you wanting to be associated with the word ‘fun’,” Gieve chuckles, getting up as well.

“Oh, fuck off,” Isfan is way too tired and hungry to come up with more creative insults.

“Come on, there’s a place close by that opens late and has really good savory snacks,” Gieve winds an arm around the taller man’s shoulders and steers him out the door.

“But the song…”

Isfan is only planning to quickly whip up some noodles and coffee in the pantry, so a thirty-minute break would have sufficed.

“The song can wait! Come on, come on! My treat!”  

-

By the time they are sitting down to write the lyrics, the two musicians with drastically different roots and conflicting beliefs have become quite in sync in terms of their ideas. Occasionally, bickering would still break out, and staff passing by the studio, the door sometimes left a crack open to let in some air, would hear snippets of “what are you even trying to convey with this line here?” or “that doesn’t even rhyme!”

Even stranger still, those same staff members who’d overheard the arguments would often see Gieve and Isfan coming out of the studio after a few hours, and they would either share companionable silence after a long day of work or chattering about where to get dinner.

One night, the two were kicked out of the studio due to equipment maintenance, but neither of them wanted to stop because they felt like they were on the verge of finally writing something good after days of scraped ideas and ripped up notebook pages, so Gieve invited Isfan back to his place to continue.

Isfan didn’t even think twice before agreeing.

When they were satisfied with what they had written, it was already two o’clock in the morning. The public transit had stopped running and Isfan’s car had been left in the company parking lot, so naturally, Gieve volunteered to make spicy instant noodles with extra toppings and treated themselves with a bottle of ice-cold beer each for the conclusion of the gruesome yet fruitful lyric-writing session.  

During the few weeks they spent together, Gieve discovered that Isfan was especially talkative when he got tired, and while they ate, slurping the hot soup and moaning at the deliciousness of cheap MSG-fueled ramen, Isfan began to ask questions.

“Why did you want to become an idol?”

“Finally taken an interest in me, Isfan?” Gieve sent him an exaggerated wink across the steaming pot sitting in the middle of the dining table.

“Just curious.”

“Honestly, it’s the same old story,” Gieve replied after swallowing a mouthful of noodles, “I was scouted by an agent from Ecbatana while I was still in high school. I didn’t have any grand plans back then, and no world-shattering ambitions or goals to speak of, so I thought, ‘Why the hell not? Sounds fun!’ and just went with the flow.”

“That’s so you,” Isfan commented with a small laugh.

“Isn’t it just? And then of course behind all that glamour, rivalry arose, friendships were crushed over jealousy and competition,” Gieve carefully blew on the fishcake dangling between his chopsticks to cool it down before putting it into his mouth.

“But you made it; you’re here,” Isfan said, placing his chopsticks down.  

Gieve hummed, and for a brief moment, the two men concentrated on finishing their food and drinks.

“I’m sorry,” Isfan murmured, gaze dropping to the bottle of beer in his hands, fingers dragging droplets of condensation as they left smears on the table, “for my shitty behavior when we first met. I shouldn’t have judged you or your abilities before I even get to know you.”

“I sure showed you though, didn’t I?” Gieve grinned openly, and through the thin veil of steam that was still rising from the pot of finished noodles, he almost seemed surreal, the green of his eyes beckoning him in the fog, the quirk of his lips bearing a subtler message that Isfan had yet to decode, but that strange, clawing feeling disappeared as quickly as it had swooped down over him, and he found himself turning his head away, feeling uncomfortably hot and prickly.

“Isfan?” Gieve leaned over, his face full of concern.

“Sorry, just tired. It’s been a long day.”

Gieve didn’t ask any further.  

After putting the dishes away, they settled contentedly on the couch, and with the politics and bloodshed of Game of Thrones playing softly in the background, the two men fell asleep leaning against each other, their breathing slowing down until they became one harmonizing melody.

-

The only main task left for them is recording the song. The instrumentals for both versions are recorded without any major hitches; Isfan is responsible for playing the piano in the acoustic version while both he and Gieve contribute to the guitar portions in the rock version. The rest of the instrumentals are filled in by the company’s contracted musicians.

However, recording vocals hasn’t gone as smoothly as they’ve hoped.

It has taken Gieve many, many tries before he can pinpoint the exact emotion he wants — that deep, furious growling that he’s still not quite used to but is necessary for this song — without messing up the lyrics, and this is especially difficult due to the unforgivingly swift tempo that leaves the singer with very little space in between to take a breath.

On the contract, it’s been stated that Gieve will be responsible for the main vocals of the single, so while Isfan doesn’t necessarily need to be present for the vocal recording, he still sits in the recording booth with the audio engineer, entranced by the way Gieve puts everything into his singing while he keeps insisting that he can do better and pleads with the recording engineer to let him have another attempt even though his voice is obviously becoming scratchy from overuse.

During the weeks they were working on the melody and lyrics, Isfan already realizes that despite the idol’s seemingly gregarious and flippant personality, as if he never takes anything or anyone seriously, Gieve is an entirely different being when he throws himself deep into his work: he will nitpick and scratch out ideas until he deems the product near perfect to his satisfaction, and this is certainly one quality that Isfan has learned to respect.  

About two hours into recording, with almost the entire bottle of water emptied, Isfan signals at the idol for him to come out of the booth, but Gieve merely shakes his head and speaks into the microphone to let them know that he’s still fine to continue.

The audio engineer looks between the two musicians, uncertain of how to proceed, but Isfan gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before entering the recording booth himself, half-dragging, half-persuading Gieve to take a much-needed break.

“Just let me try a few more takes! I almost got it, come on—”

“No, your voice is cracking. You need to rest,” Isfan insists.

“Isfan’s right. Let’s give it another go tomorrow,” the audio engineer tells Gieve kindly.

Isfan nods his thanks, and then with a firm and steady hand, he pulls the bewildered idol out the door with a polite “see you tomorrow” aimed at the audio engineer.

“All right, all right, will you let go already?”

Gieve has been blindly following Isfan without really questioning where he’s taking him; not that he has any choice to begin with since the taller man still has a strong hold of his hand as he leads them down one hallway after another. A few passerby staff give them odd looks as they rush past, but they keep the muttering to themselves, though it doesn’t stop all kinds of rumours from spreading outside of the company that will gradually accompany the release of the single in the upcoming weeks.

Isfan finally lets him go when they reach the roof. They’ve taken the stairs instead of the elevator to avoid the worst of the crowd, but even walking up three flights of stairs is enough to make Gieve, who exercises regularly through dance rehearsals and gym visits, sweat and breathe raggedly, his arm hanging onto the railing to support his weight when they finally reach the top.

The roof of Ecbatana Entertainment Productions has been renovated into a garden where employees can rest in a peaceful spot away from the stress and worry of their work for a little while. The place is usually crowded during lunch time, but it is now nearing seven o’clock in the evening, the sky deepening into violet and blue and awash with splashes of pink and gold of the setting sun, the rooftop garden is utterly deserted.

Bushes of blooming lavender planted in squares of soil in the center of the garden create a waft of pleasant and sweet floral scent with a trace of evening summer breeze. Leaves of various plants that neither man remembers the names of whisper and rustle softly around them, and for the moment, they share the illusion of being the only ones in this world as the city halts its steps for the night.  

The two men settle on one of the benches that allows them to overlook the city skyline.

“Now that you’ve got me all by my lonesome,” Gieve breaks the silence easily and glances up at him with his infamous smile, the frustration from a few minutes ago gone without a trace as he wraps an arm intimately around Isfan’s shoulders, “is there something you wish to confess?”

Turning to face him properly, Isfan almost loses the ability to speak; their faces are only inches apart, and it reminds him of the first time they met — how irritated he’d felt towards the cheeky idol, how much he’d wanted to push him away and walk out of that room, how much more he’d wanted to pull him in and kiss him until neither of them can breathe.

He exhales slowly, eyes slipping close to refocus, but he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t want to.

“I’m worried about you,” Isfan says.

“Oh,” Gieve chuckles airily, “this is new.”

“I’m serious, damn it,” Isfan grits out, eyes flashing golden and black when he opens them again. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard for the past week; you’ve barely finished any of your meals, and I know you’ve been chugging energy drinks when you thought nobody’s watching.”

“Well, apparently, someone’s been watching me closely,” Gieve’s grin turns a little mischievous as he leans in even closer, close enough that their breaths are mixing, a hand dragging up to the nape of Isfan’s neck.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Isfan murmurs, feeling the idol’s fingers splayed warm and heavy against the back of his neck, and he’s entirely too distracted by the other man’s eyes, made deeper green by the colored contact lenses and lightly lined in kohl due to an event he needs to attend later on tonight, and his smiling mouth, the subtle twist an alluring challenge, an undeniable invitation.

“Seeking comfort, decreasing my stress levels, trying to make you notice me more, and so on and so forth,” Gieve replies.

Isfan laughs lightly at the last item of Gieve’s statement, clearly amused by the idol’s attempt to flirt with him (which is working weirdly well, all things considered), and Gieve pouts at the reaction, slightly insulted.

“What? Why are you laughing? This is no laughing matter, you know—”

Isfan only laughs harder, the corner of his eyes crinkling and the sound of his laughter soft and rumbling like distant thunder echoing in a forest that sets alight something deep within Gieve, making his blood tremble with delight.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” Isfan says, and then he’s pulling Gieve towards himself by a fistful of his shirtfront, his mouth crashing against the idol’s unceremoniously in a messy kiss.

-

“And this week, on the Pars Top 40 Chart, a newly released single has reached the number one spot: it’s Gieve, featuring guest artist Isfan, ‘The Lost Ones’ Fantasy’!”

---

A/N: Goodness. Excuse the terrible writing. I started giving up towards the end and didn’t really bother anymore…

[ahumanfemale]

Professional Distance IV

Summary:  Dean and Donna pass a week of separation.

Author:  (A)HumanFemale

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

Warning:  Slightly adult themes.

IV

Donna texted him just before midnight, letting him know that they’d made it back to the hotel.  Her sister-in-law was wasted and had to be poured into bed, so Donna was going to stick around in case she got sick.  She was a good friend - kind and caring.  Dean couldn’t fault her for that.  The downside was that her plane was leaving early the next morning to take them back to Minnesota - she was dropping off her sister-in-law and hanging out with family for a week before she came back to the city for her release party.  

Dean told her to get some rest - he’d see her next week.

He dragged himself into bed late that night but couldn’t force himself to go to sleep.  His head was still buzzing, drunk with the memories of Donna pressed so close to him.  He thought of their kiss and his head spun, taking him right back to the moment he’d first tasted the sweetness of her lips and felt her hands on him.  She’d never done anything but shake his hand before that moment but kissed him like she’d been thinking about it for years.

Donna wanted him.

The thought was a drug and he was hooked, riding the high.  

At this rate he’d never sleep again.

-- X --

Work was harder than he thought it would be the next morning, which wasn't improved by the fact that it was a Saturday.  Dean still forced himself to sit down with his laptop, making peace with his lot.  An alarming number of chapters had piled up in his queue while he was pining over Donna the last few weeks.  None of his authors were making a fuss but he felt bad about it anyway, knowing they were too polite to give him hell.  It was his only task of the morning to try and get to his longest-neglected works.  

Dean worked through the morning and ate lunch at his computer, straining his eyes until he had a roaring headache.  He once again contemplated the need for reading glasses.  The thought made him grimace - he was too young for that, damn it.  He wasn’t even forty yet.

He was popping some painkillers and bemoaning his age when his phone buzzed from his desk.  Distracted, he perked up only when he realized that it was a message from Donna.  He pulled up the message and one eyebrow quirked up in confusion.  

It was a short excerpt of prose but it wasn’t Chloe or Dan.  

Donna dragged herself across the airport, tired to the point of falling over.  The early morning flight had seemed like a good idea until her idiot sister-in-law decided to go clubbing and fall off the wagon.  Donna was up holding her hair out of the toilet until two in the morning.  Their flight left at seven.  There was a chance she was in Hell.  The real one - not that vegan bakery she found in California.

Dean smirked and another message appeared.

The only thing propelling her tired behind through the crowd was her memories of the night before, her brain occupied with thoughts of candy apple green eyes and long legs.  Scruff the color of cinnamon, flecked with gold.  Mmm, cinnamon sounded good.  Every airport had a Cinnabon, right?  Hold on.

This time he laughed aloud, collapsing back into his chair and looking at the ceiling.  It was a few minutes before another message appeared.  

They totally had a Cinnabon.  

Donna was pleased at this turn of events.  With enough carbs she would be able to refrain from strangling the walking hangover next to her.  She had no intention of going down for murder - not today, anyway - so she ate the doughy roll of sugar in a few bites.  If she got an extra one in a to-go box it was a public service, thank you very much.  

Dean snorted.

Anyway, Donna was thinking about Dean.  About the way his full lips caressed the rim of his coffee cup and the way his tongue darted out in concentration while they spoke.  Watching him think was nothing short of pornographic.  Brows drawn, bottom lip between his teeth.  She was a few seconds away from fanning herself even now, with just the memory to keep her company.  Watching those lips in action was a burlesque show - feeling them on hers was another matter entirely.  The taste of him on her tongue turned her inside out.

Dean cleared his throat, shifting in his chair.  

Leaving was the last thing she’d wanted to do that night.  What she wanted was to pay the check, drag him out of there, and pin him against the side of that shiny black car in the parking lot.  She’d kiss him silly, until she couldn’t breathe and her head spun.  If her hands happened to wander, who could blame her?  And if the two of them happened to fall into the backseat, everyone would understand.  Really, just look at the guy.

She had no idea what he would have given for that.  Even now his hands itched to touch her again.  The image of Donna getting handsy with him against his beloved Baby was a daydream he would have to file away for future use.

When her phone rang she wanted to chuck it across the restaurant because she knew what it meant.  It meant walking away from the hunk of beefcake she’d been lusting after for years, just when she got her first taste.  The injustice of it all rendered her breathless.  Surely the universe wasn’t so cruel as to deprive her of him completely.  

Like hell, he thought to himself.  He typed a quick reply, not worrying about interrupting her train of thought.  

The next time I see you, you’re mine.  Hell or high water, sweetheart.

It was several long minutes before Donna replied, making him sweat.  Maybe he should have thought of something better.  He dove as soon as her name popped up on the screen.  

Donna read Dean’s message, the words making her swoon.  She had no choice but to collapse into a puddle in the middle of the airport.  Maintenance en route.  

Dean chuckled and put the phone aside, mouth stretched into a bright smile.  Donna wanted him.  Donna had wanted him for years, apparently.  The knowledge felt miraculous - too good to be true.  Chest tight, he read over her messages again.  Laughed harder, smile hurting his cheeks, wishing he could live in that moment for just a little while longer.  Then reality seeped back in the cracks and it was okay.  His headache had lessened and his work no longer seemed so oppressive.  Things were good.  

His world was better with Donna in it.  

-- X --

Donna sent more of the same messages over the next few days, all in the same narrative format.  They told him about her day, what she was thinking at any particular time.  She didn’t seem to require responses from him, which was good because he rarely knew what to say.  He would comment every so often just so she would keep going.  Mostly he was afraid that he would break the spell that had wound around him, keeping him walking on air.  Those texts had gone from amusing to a lifeline in a matter of days.  If he couldn’t have Donna, they were the next best thing.  

Donna woke with a smile on her face and the smell of breakfast in her nose.  The former because of a certain editor, and the latter because… wait.  Who was in her house?!

...

It was fine.  Donna’s mother had snuck in through the back door to surprise her with food.  Which was normal.  Mothers did that.  Right?

Not mine, Dean thought.  Though she did pick the lock on his front door once when she left her cell phone in his couch.

Donna told herself she wasn’t going to go hang out with Jody this trip.  It was a short one and she didn’t have time to do a five-day hangover recovery program.  But gosh, did she miss Jody.  They’d been best friends since middle school and Jody had a taste for trouble that Donna didn’t.  Drinking and getting matching tattoos kind of trouble.  She’d barely escaped last time, just before she’d drunkenly inked “party girl” into her thigh.  

Dean couldn’t imagine her with a tattoo.  At all.  But then he really wondered if she had one and filed that question away for later.  

The next day Donna was determined to work.

The blank page stared, mocking.  Chloe and Dan were in serious need of resolution but their creator was distracted.  Something to do with her editor, but they didn’t know that.  They only knew that Dan’s wound was infected and they needed to kill the monster and get him to a hospital. He might get sepsis and die at this point.

Poor Dan, he thought.  Tough break.

This was all Dean’s fault.  It might be his fault that Dan existed at all, so when her characters came to life as vengeful fictional spirits they could haunt him first.  

Dean scoffed and replied, Is that a confession?  

A few minutes later she replied, Donna had to go sorry bye.

They spent the week that way, Donna sending prose and Dean sending back snarky comments to keep her going.  He read her messages in between edits, using them as rewards for getting actual work done.  Donna bought books with her mother.  Cooked with her dad.  Got caught texting him under the dinner table, after which her phone was taken away because they didn't buy her telling them it was for work.  It didn’t seem to matter that she was in her thirties.  

She did, in fact, go out with Jody.  

She was, in fact, hung over afterwards.  

It must have been pretty bad because the only thing she sent him the next day was:

Diagnosis: Acute alcohol poisoning.

Cause: Jody effing Mills.

Prognosis: Leave me here to die.

She must have been down for the count because he didn't hear anything else until the next afternoon, when she narrated making travel plans to come back for her release party.  Chloe Ransom’s fifth adventure had hit the shelves the week before and was already a success, leading her publisher to throw her a party to celebrate.  Any other author would have basked and preened but not Donna.  Donna had to take good news and turn it into a death sentence.

Donna finished an email to her stylist and sighed, nerves already mounting.  Her skin prickled in anxiety and all her worst nightmares started springing up in her mind, all in excruciating detail.  Writing was one thing but those people might want her to talk. Out loud. In front of an audience.  What the heck was that about?  

Her fear of public speaking wasn't news to him. Donna had been actively avoiding speaking engagements for years.  She personally felt as though they should just hire an actress to be Chloe so she could come and speak in character, leaving Donna out of it completely.

What if she stuttered?  Or passed out?  Or got sick!  Mary and Joseph, she'd never live that down.  It would wind up on YouTube and that would be it.  End of story.  There goes that writer lady - she tossed her cookies all over her publishers and never wrote again.  

Dean smirked as he walked to his car, finally done for the night.  He replied, That's not going to happen.

Dean didn't know.  He wasn't psychic, but the gesture was appreciated.  

I could be psychic.  You never know.

She did know.  If Dean were psychic all these years it wouldn’t have taken such drastic measures to get his attention.  He would have heard her every depraved thought through a megaphone, straight into his brain.  Donna would have seen the smoke coming from his ears, because she really did have a terrific imagination.

Dean’s eyes crinkled as he smirked. Were you having unprofessional thoughts about me?

Donna would confess to nothing, but the images sprouted up behind her eyes anyway.  Would he ever know the kinds of thoughts she’s had about him over the years?  The sheer number would probably horrify him.  Climbing into his lap on the couch along the back wall of his office, praying no one walked in as she ran her fingers through his tousled hair.  Or looking up at him through her lashes from under his desk as her fingers found the clasp of his belt.

He cleared his throat.  Those are definitely not professional.

You asked, she replied, dispensing with the narration for the first time since they started texting a few days ago.  Dean laughed and sent his reply before putting his phone down and pulling into traffic.

I did.  

Are you coming to the release party?

I always do.  

Maybe don’t bring a date tomorrow?

Dean stopped at a light, smile threatening to break across his face.  If he didn’t know any better Donna was asking him out.  What she didn’t know was that he’d never brought a date to one of her events.  He’d always been afraid that whatever woman he brought would take one look at him near her and figure it out.  The fact that he was crazy about her would have been written across his face.

Maybe I don’t.  What if I find one there?

That’s the idea, handsome.

Dean drove the rest of the way home with a smile on his face and happy anticipation buzzing in his ears.  

He wanted Donna.

Donna wanted him.

They had a date tomorrow night.  

He whistled through dinner, sang while he did the dishes, and still couldn’t bring himself to go to sleep until after midnight.  

[magmasliveblogs]

1.01 R

first of all, ive given up on doing 4+ posts a day till i catch up, ill do 2 or so until wednesday but after that if i miss a day i will do 2 posts a day till caught up. i bit off more than a drake with an unhinged jaw could chew. also it seems we are continuing with the story of ryoka! to recap: last chapter we got introduced to ryoka as a character and got more info about the runnners guild

Every head in the Runner’s Guild turned as the door opened. It was a conditioned response; those who ran were either quick to notice things or they were dead.

Ryoka walked over to a counter on one side of the room, ignoring the appraising looks she received. She waited until the female receptionist at the counter looked up.

“Good morning, Ryoka.”

The receptionist treated her to a friendly smile. Ryoka nodded back. She did not smile.

“Do you have any requests to turn in?”

Ryoka nodded again.

“Three seals.”

“Very well. I’ll witness your claim.”

The receptionist waited patiently as Ryoka scribbled down her name and listed the seals she’d brought in. She had to write down the composition of each seal. Two red hardwood seals and the expensive silver/sapphire seal.

“Oh, is that Magnolia’s seal? You were lucky to pick up that delivery.”

“Yep.”

Ryoka finished writing and slid the paper and quill over to the receptionist. The other woman’s smile flickered, but she added her own signature to the log.

“Most runners fight over the right to deliver something to her. She pays extra for speed, and of course she’s been known to tip generously too.”

The receptionist waited for a response. She got a silent nod.

“Thanks.”

it seems we will get even more info! perhaps even some culture? 

Ryoka turned away. She walked over to a large bulletin board with pieces of paper tacked to it.

Like the Adventurer’s Guilds, the Runner’s Guild used a first-come-first-serve system when it came to giving out delivery requests. It was this board that Ryoka studied intently, ignoring the eyes still boring into the back of her head. She was used to it.

What she wasn’t used to was the loud, cheerful voice that cut through the silence.

“Hey Ryoka!”

The young woman tensed up. Her head twitched towards the door, but it was too late. Another girl was making a beeline towards her. She was shorter than Ryoka, but wider. Not from fat; rather, she looked sturdy without having the obvious muscles of a man.

Garia Strongheart slapped Ryoka on the shoulder. The taller girl’s left eye twitched, but Garia didn’t notice.

“Did you just finish your deliveries to Celum? That’s fast! I normally have a bite to eat in the markets. They do a wonderful cinnamon bun in the mornings, but I guess you already ate, right?”

The taller girl looked over at Garia and gave her a fractional nod.

“Mhm.”

“And you did it barefoot? I thought the others were just playing a prank on me when they said you ran everywhere without shoes.”

Ryoka sighed inaudibly.

“I run everywhere without shoes.”

“Why? Too cheap for them?”

Garia laughed. Ryoka did not.

“I’m just slower with shoes, that’s all.”

“Oh, so it’s a class thing? That makes sense. But is the uh, [Barefoot Runner] class better than the [Messenger] class?”

Ryoka shrugged. Below the bulletin board was a table with bundles of deliveries yet to be made. She picked out a bundle and weighed it experimentally. Too heavy. She put it back and tried another one on. Light enough to run with.

Her continuing silence and clear disinterest in conversation didn’t bother Garia, at least outwardly. The friendly girl continued to press Ryoka, asking about the road, what dangers she’d encountered, and so on. She got monosyllabic responses if she was lucky.

Ryoka studied the requests. Most were generic delivery requests. Unfortunately, they were all spaced out so that it would be hard to do more than a few without running twice as far.

continuity error! [messengers] were changed to be similar to our pony express, ie: letters or small packages sent by horse. the typical member of the runners guild will have the [runner] class instead. also yep, ryoka is antisocial 

A scrap of paper hiding behind two other requests caught her eye. Ryoka pulled it out and studied it. Then she showed it to Garia.

“What’s the reward for this one?”

Garia looked at the piece of paper and shook her head.

“Oh that? It’s one of the old-style requests. You get them now and then. Someone sends a message that they want a delivery and they promise payment. But we have no idea how much they’re willing to pay and who they want the package  delivered to. At least it’s confirmed.”

“Confirmed?”

“That means we can at least prove they’re not bandits. Who’s this one from? Oh. Don’t take this request.”

“Why not?”

“It’s for the High Passes. Very nasty place. More runners have died there than—well, it’s bad. Tons of monsters live around the area.”

“Hmm.”

Ryoka’s expression didn’t change as she studied the request. But then she looked elsewhere. Garia picked out another request and showed it to Ryoka.

“How about you and I do this delivery of ore to Pelingor? It would be a long haul, but they’re offering a gold coin for delivery today! Plus the roads are very safe. Whaddya say?”

The other girl studied the notice and eyed the packs. They were filled to bursting and were as heavy as they looked.

“I’ll pass.”

“Again?”

Garia looked disappointed. Ryoka shrugged awkwardly.

“I’m not good at running in groups.”

“Well, if you’re sure. But we should run together sometime. How about in a few days we do the Tern Road run and deliver the spices to Celers and Remendia?”

Again, Ryoka’s expression didn’t change, but she looked up at the ceiling as she considered Garia’s request.

“Fine.”

Garia beamed and slapped Ryoka on the back. Again, the other girl’s eye twitched.

“Great! I’ll let you know when it comes up.”

“Sure.”

Ryoka selected a piece of paper as Garia turned away. But then the door opened and she heard Garia call out.

“Fals!”

More runners walked into the guild. Their arrival was greeted with much more enthusiasm and energy that Ryoka’s had been. A few other runners moved over as the three people who had entered strolled up to the receptionist’s counter and offered her silver seals.

Garia joined the group around the runners and grinned up at the tallest one. He was a blonde, tanned runner with long legs and red clothing that was better quality than the other runners around him. He also wore two daggers at his belt.

“Fals, how’re you doing?”

Fals grinned at Garia and exchanged slaps on the shoulder. He pointed to the other two runners accompanying him, a young man and a woman.

“We just finished a run to a group of adventurers out near the old ruins. Brought a bunch of potions and supplies. They tipped well, so we’re going to celebrate.”

Garia sighed enviously.

“And you don’t have a scratch on you.”

“We’re not stupid enough to get near the monsters.”

Fals laughed and the other runners laughed with him.

“So why are you here? Going to accept another assignment?”

He shook his head.

“Nah. I’m too tired for that. No, I just wanted to have a word with our newest runner here.”

He walked over to Ryoka. The other runners who’d congregated around him fell away, leaving just his two friends and Garia.

“Ryoka, how’re you doing?”

The other girl had finished picking out two requests. She looked up from stowing the deliveries in her backpack.

“Fine.”

Fals waited, but that was it. Garia shifted uncomfortably and the other two runners glared at Ryoka. She looked expressionlessly back at them. However, Fals took the lapse in stride.

“Good, good. I was wondering if you needed any advice, what with you being so new. Normally, most runners begin as Street Runners first.”

Ryoka shrugged. Again, Fals broke the silence before it grew too onerous.

“Well, I noticed you took Magnolia’s request this morning. It’s a good run, isn’t it?”

“There were a few Goblins on the road.”

“Right, right.”

Fals scratched his head and shifted uncomfortably. Ryoka finished tying her pack closed and hoisted it onto her shoulders. She looked at him expectantly.

“The thing is, it’s a really good delivery. It pays well, it’s safe—well, mostly safe—and runners like Magnolia. She tips well and shares her deliveries.”

Garia grinned.

“She once gave me a few treats she imported from overseas. They were frozen bits of fruit and sugar. Tasted amazing.”

“Exactly. We all like her. I know she wanted someone to deliver that blue drink she likes so much. Did she share any with you?”

Ryoka shook her head.

“I wasn’t interested.”

This time she definitely got a glare from every runner in earshot. Fals shifted again.

“Right, well, it would just be best if you let another runner take the request next time. Not that you don’t have a right to it—it’s just that we like to share the request. Give others a chance to take it easy, okay?”

He gave her a smile which went unreturned. Garia eyed Ryoka nervously. Ryoka stared at Fals expressionlessly, and then nodded.

“Got it.”

The two other runners accompanying Fals shifted on their feet. They looked at Ryoka with a lot more hostility than Fals and Garia. For his part, Fals nodded and gave Ryoka another friendly smile.

seems like the typical runner is extremely social, while ryoka can not be bothered to put in the effort. i can get behind that. 

“Just so you know. Good luck on your run!”

Fals and the other runners walked away. Ryoka watched them go. Her face betrayed no emotion, but Garia saw her hand go up and tug at one ear.

Something was off about it. Normally, Ryoka’s long hair covered her ears, but now Garia saw that her left ear had been torn sometime in the past. The lower part of her earlobe was missing, and the remainder had healed jaggedly around the round gap.

Ryoka noticed Garia staring at her ear. She dropped her hand and turned away.

“See ya.”

—-

What was the receptionist’s name? It’s still bugging me. I think it started with an ‘S’. Or was it a ‘Y’? No. I’m sure it was an s.

Either way, at least that’s done with. And now I can get out of the city and away from annoying people.*

I feel a lot better as I jog out of the city gates. Running calms me down. And I need some calming down after having to deal with idiots.**

*Everyone

**Almost everyone.

and now you see why there is a good portion of the community who doesnt like ryoka, moments like that can be read as incredibly pretentious and rude, whereas some people just dont like dealing with people in general irl. 

Okay, okay, calm down. I adjust my pace as I sprint out of the city gates. People are staring. Not that it matters too much, but I don’t want to waste my energy running too fast right now.

Destination: Remendia. It’s about thirty miles away, which makes it one of the furthest cities to travel to. I’ll get over there in a few hours and then jog over to its neighbor, Ocre. Or whatever it’s called. But I’ll stay the night in Remendia since it’s bigger and has better inns.

There’s a Runner’s Guild in Remendia. There’s one in almost every big city, so I can receive more requests wherever I go. That’s handy, and it means I don’t have to come back here and deal with the annoying runners around here.

Then again, they all do city-to-city deliveries as well, so I tend to run into all of them sooner or later. It’s a pain.

Well, Garia isn’t a pain. She’s just too friendly. But she’s the best of them. The rest of the City Runners can go to hell. Especially Fals.

City Runners. From what I understand of these Runners, they’re like postmen. Or postwomen. Whichever. But you can divide them into roughly three categories. There are the Street Runners, the City Runners, and the Couriers.

Street Runners cover individual cities and don’t stray outside of them very far. They take the safest, easiest jobs and receive the least amount of money. They also seem like they’re not that high in the social hierarchy in the Runner’s Guild. They’re the youngest or the oldest, and that’s about all I know.

City Runners is what I guess I fall into. They—we run from city to city and make deliveries in a general area. A City Runner might run for a few days if he has to make a really long delivery, but he won’t stray from his ‘territory’*. They take on the more dangerous jobs, but again, they’re not adventurers so a City Runner mainly runs away from any trouble and tries to make their deliveries as quickly as possible.

*Territory. What are we, dogs? But apparently we are, with all the little groups and infighting the runners seem to do. It’s a mess of politics and friendships in each Runner’s Guild.

good to have hierarchy, as long as it doesnt get oppressive. i assume street runners are generally lower level than city runners, and the same for couriers. maybe [courier] is a class upgrade of [runner] similar to [strategist] and [tactician]? 

Then there’s Couriers. I haven’t personally met one, but I hear they’re the equivalent of long-distance mail. They can go from one end of the continent to the other, or even across the sea if their delivery calls for it. They’re quick, efficient, and apparently they cost incredible amounts of money to hire. But they’re also supposed to be really good at their jobs.

yeah i think they are a class upgrade

From what Garia told me, each one is at least Level 30, and they all have levels in other classes as well so they’re not easy to ambush. And that’s…

I look around as I run. I’m going down one of the main roads, but it’s empty at the moment. Still, I jog off the road and into the short grass. It’s not like I’ll go much slower out here. I wait until I’m a ways away from the road before I shout.

“That’s so stupid!”

Well, it’s not much of a shout. It’s hard to shout and breathe at the same time, and it feels really awkward to talk to myself. Who does that? Anyways, I’m still not over it.

Levels. It’s one of the weirdest things about this world, and this is a weird world. It’s like a game, but it’s not a game. At least, there’s no evil demon lord or end of the world coming, and I’m no hero from another planet summoned to defend this place from evil.

I’m a girl from Ohio. I’m a Freshman in college, and I run barefoot. I found myself here when I was on my run, and I ended up in this crazy place with my iPhone, my wallet, and my watch. I’m no hero.

But this place is exactly like a video game. Or, failing that, a fantasy book. Something out of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, except the cities I’ve visited don’t have any Elves or Dwarves. In fact, they don’t even have many humans with skin darker than tan. I’m practically an outsider because I look Asian.

Back to the road. It’s not good to stray too far from it, I guess. But I hate having to dodge around wagons and listen to every idiot I meet shout at me about my bare feet. But it beats Goblins, I guess.

Barely.

Anyways, what was I thinking about? Oh yeah. This is a stupid world. A really stupid one, and the worst part is that it’s just like the one I left.

Fals. He was hinting—no, he was telling me not to take any more of the good delivery requests. And judging by the crowd back in there, they all think the same way.

Politics. No one takes all the good deliveries or we’ll make life tough for you, huh? And this Fals is their…what? He’s popular, I know.

I grit my teeth. I don’t like him. He’s always giving me advice, usually about things I should or shouldn’t do. And since he’s a senior Runner he’s got some kind of priority with deliveries and everything else. I really hate running into him in the guilds.

Already. It’s only been a week and a half*, but I’ve gotten used to this world, at least a bit. You really can get used to anything. But I’ve never liked social climbing, and it feels like half of being a Runner is doing just that.

*Has it really only been that long? It feels…so much longer.

I hate Fals. I run into him too much. And now I’ve got to run with Garia, dragging a massive backpack thirty miles for terrible pay. Why did I agree to run with her? Because it was too hard to say no.

Damn. Damn me, damn her, and Fals can…there’s not enough damnation around here for him. I hate all of this.

So I run. Keep running. I increase my pace and my thoughts flow out of my head. That’s better.

Things come and go, but at least I can run. Ironically, in this world I can run even more since it’s now my job. That’s the only good thing about my predicament. The only good thing.

Well, that and one more little fact. I grin as I remember, and the wagon driver gives me a weird look as I run past him.

This world has a bunch of Runners. And they’re okay. They really are. They run far, and the ones like Garia are tough and strong enough to run with huge bags on their back for quite a long ways. But you know what? Maybe it’s their diets. Or maybe they don’t know about proper hydration, or running form or—

The point is, they’re okay. But they’ve got nothing on a girl who earned a scholarship for track and field.

I take off, and the miles flow behind me like rain. I may not be a social runner, or even liked. At all. But I’m pretty sure that I’m one of the fastest.

and this is what i meant by hierarchy being good but only without oppression. this whole “leave some of the good requests for the rest of us” just stinks of greed. if you want the good requests how about you work for them instead of relying on pack tactics? 

also it seems ryoka refuses to level up 

It’s a long run. But I get it done with and enter Remendia just as the sun’s turning the sky orange. Two deliveries. One here, and the other in that other city. Ocres? Whatever.

I take care of it, and then turn in my seals at the local Runner’s Guild. Here I get more silent stares, but that’s fine. Keep the poker face up, turn in the seals, and leave.

That done, I find an inn. Hm. The first one I go to advertises bed and board for three silver coins. It’s pricy, but I’ve earned over thirty silver today. I’ll treat myself.

If you’ve got the motivation and you don’t die from being shanked by a Goblin hiding in the grass, a City Runner can make good money. True, a large part of my earnings was from that Magnolia request, but I still earn more than most people. Or so I gather.

The average worker makes about 3-4 silver coins* per day. But that’s a pittance compared to what merchants or shopkeepers can bring in. Even taking away their daily expenses, they probably earn upwards of twenty silver coins each day. And that’s small change compared to the money adventurers can make.

*Local currencies differ from city to city or by region. Here the currency is called Thestals, but that just means they have a unique weight and percentage of actual silver or gold used in each coin. Those who deal with money a lot care about the currency, but they’re all roughly silver, gold, and copper coins.

The famous adventurers. Heroes. People who can slice, dice, and blast things apart. I think about them as I soak in one of the public bathhouses. It feels great, but what was I—oh, right.

Adventurers. They don’t exactly look like the flashy characters with insane armor and gigantic swords you see in video games. Mainly, they look like medieval soldiers. At least, the low-level ones do. Again, Garia tells me the high-level ones look really impressive, but I’ve yet to meet one of those.

And why am I thinking of adventurers? And where’s the towel? And is that bath attendant giving me a dirty look?

Oh, right. Because of my feet. Hey, they’re dirty but probably less dirty than other people’s disgusting body parts. Leave a tip? I guess.

Back to the thinking. Adventurers? Yeah, they’re like…starving artists? They don’t earn much from hunting monsters, but the ones who survive their raids on dungeons or old ruins can earn unimaginable amounts of wealth in an instant. I guess it’s appealing for people who think they’ll survive. Not me, thanks. I’ve seen what Goblins do with people, and they’re the weakest monsters around.

So, if adventurers represent the top earners, Runners fall somewhere around the mid-categories. It’s a dangerous job, but not nearly as dangerous as fighting monsters.

Why do I care? Oh, right, money. I’ve got enough.

Back to the inn. I’m tired, but my mind is still racing. It’s been how many hours? I’m still annoyed by those idiots back in the Runner’s Guild. And Garia. I’m more annoyed than mad at her, but—

She was staring at my ear. Which is fair. Are ear injuries that common around here? It’s a distinctive pattern—perhaps that’s why she’s curious. And about me running barefoot. It’s not common even in fantasy worlds, I guess.

Back to the inn. Time for a meal. Let’s eat and think. What kind of meal? Chicken. I could go for chicken and mashed potatoes. It tastes good, especially since I’m hungry. But focus. Is that guy staring at my breasts? Yes. I hate you, random stranger.

Ignore him. Eat chicken. Gravy goes on top of potatoes. Think.

Let’s go over it again. Priorities. First and most important? Money to live on. Right now I’m earning enough for a room at an inn and regular meals, but keep saving.

Second, I need more information. Libraries don’t exist around here, or at least, they aren’t open for the public. I need maps, but I also need a book on the cities around here. History, culture—I need a local. Can’t ask them too much, or they’ll get suspicious. Put that one on the backburner.

Next? Um. Equipment. The job I’ve got is pretty much the only one I can do. Alternatives? I could be a scribe…if my handwriting were better. But being able to write more than my name is helpful. Too bad it’s not too useful.

Focus. Equipment. There’s magical items on sale in the markets. Not many—and they’re expensive. But runners have different kinds of enchanted items. I want one. But I’m still trying to earn enough money to buy a good healing potion for emergencies. That has to be the first priority.

Meal’s done? Do I leave the plate or…? Hm. Let’s see. Looks like they’re leaving plates. And the innkeeper puts it on my tab…? Yeah. I’ll pay it tomorrow.

Back up to my room, away from prying eyes and people who want to sit and have a drink with me. I’m not against drinking* but I really don’t need to deal with lonely men right now.

*Well, I am if it’s alcohol.

seems ryoka was part of the official batch, as opposed to whatever made erin appear, and is thus newer to the world 

My bed’s pretty good this time. You definitely get what you pay for. I guess I’ll spend at least two silver coins on my inn from now on. It’s expensive, but it beats a bad bed.

Hm. Final check before I got to sleep. Fals? Hate him. Got to run with Garia sometime. Get it over with. Using money for…healing potion. And then equipment. Right.

I know what to do tomorrow. I’ll go to the Runner’s Guild first thing and get some good, high-paying requests. Save up, buy that healing potion. But something else nags me as I lie in the bed with a feather poking the back of my head.

Here’s the problem. And it’s a big one. I have no idea what to do next. Not ‘next’ as in tomorrow, but ‘next’ as in what I should be aiming for in the future. I can earn enough money to live off of, but what’s my end goal? To live and die here? Or to return home? And how in the blue blazes* am I going to do that?

*Where does that quote come from? No, focus. Focus.

yknow you would think a fire god would know this, but i do not 

When I run I can keep the doubts from floating about in my head. But when I stop and when I’m about to sleep I feel it crawling back up from the depths.

Uncertainty. I still don’t know why I’m here, what magic or fate brought me to this place, or what even to do next. I earn money and I keep it, but I don’t know what to do with it. I run and run, and someday I’ll run into something nasty. This world is full of monsters, and I don’t know what to do.

Still, I can’t worry about it now. I have to sleep. If I’m tired or I oversleep tomorrow I’ll miss the good deliveries.

I close my eyes. Time to sleep. My mind is racing, but at least my body’s tired. I’m drifting off in my mattress. It’s not that much different from my one back at home, to be honest. Maybe more lumpy and less comfortable as a whole, but it will do. And I’m so tired.

Damn. I forgot. Before I sleep. Concentrate. Block out the messages—

[Barefoot Runner Class Ob—]

[Barefoot Runner Le—]

[Skill: Runner’s—]

[Ski—]

I hate having to do that every night.

ok apparently she just hates the system in general and never got any levels in the first place. just refuses it on principle and in general 

thats the end! will ryoka come up with increasingly weird fake classes to explain what she knows? will she be discriminated against if someone finds out she refuses levels? 

see you next post, hopefully tomorrow if my internet decides its feeling good

[trendingnewsb]

Salma Hayek: Trump couldn’t build a wall without illegal Mexicans’

Her new film, Beatriz at Dinner, already has Oscar buzz. But on top of the acting, Salma Hayek is also saving animals, running charities and beating the hell out of a Trump piata. Johnny Davis meets Hollywoods busiest firebrand

It was after a neighbour shot her dog that Salma Hayek realised Donald Trump would become president.

I thought it was a crazy thing, that it would never happen but then something really tragic happened to me, she explains. I have a ranch in America and a neighbour of mine killed my dog. Hayek, who owns around 50 animals, including 20 chickens, five parrots, four alpacas, two fish, some cats and a hamster, says that Mozart, the tragic German Shepherd in question, had never attacked anyone. And the authorities in dealing with the neighbour, and what he did How is that legal? [Police have said the neighbour shot her dog after he found it fighting with his dogs in his garage.] Just to understand what was the normality of things. I realised in this moment, Oh my God: hes going to win.

Hayek, a Mexican immigrant to America who identifies as half-Spanish and half- Lebanese, lives in London and is married to a Frenchman who happens to be Franois-Henri Pinault, billionaire CEO of the company that owns Saint Laurent, Stella McCartney, Gucci is perhaps uniquely placed to have firm views on Trump, Brexit and immigration, and well get to them.

Hayek is primarily here this morning to talk about her new movie, The Hitmans Bodyguard. We are at a press junket for the film. Elsewhere on the first floor of this smart London hotel are Samuel L Jackson, Ryan Reynolds and Gary Oldman, answering questions. Junkets can be dispiriting, and rapport can be in short supply. That is, unless youre Salma Hayek, whose personality could light up a funeral. She arrives in a riot of black and red polka dots, tottering shoes and glossy hair, 5ft 2in and somehow 50 years old, although agelessly beautiful. She plonks herself into an armchair, hoists her legs up, and proceeds to tug the small table between us towards her. Do you mind? Theyre bringing me food. I like my food.

Hasnt she had breakfast?

I did but Im still hungry, she grins.

A round of avocado on toast is spirited into the room, accompanied by a mystery shake in a plastic container. (A second round soon follows.) Famous since she was a soap star in Mexico in her 20s and with 40-plus Hollywood films to her name, Hayek has done literally thousands of interviews. What does she make of the publicity circuit?

Im good! she says. I just pretend Im having a conversation with a new friend.

Other half: Hayek and her billionaire husband Franois-Henri Pinault. Photograph: Tony Barson Archive/WireImage

Indeed, Hayek proves impossible not to like. She may be the perfect chat-show guest: various presenters have hooted along as shes shown off pictures of her Donald Trump piata, discussed her experience as a late-developing teen immersing herself in holy water and praying to Jesus for breasts, or confessing she accused Monsieur Pinault of having an affair after discovering text messages from Elena, only to discover Elena was a language-teaching app.

In fact, we have Pinault to thank for Hayeks turn in The Hitmans Bodyguard. The comedy-action caper is basically a mismatched buddy movie for Jackson and Reynolds, hitman and bodyguard respectively. Hayek is only in a few scenes, but as Jacksons imprisoned criminal wife she matches him profanity for profanity.

I think Salma steals the whole movie, says director Patrick Hughes. I challenge anyone not to fall in love with her because (a) shes a polymath and (b) she kicks ass.

I have to tell you: action is not my favouritest [sic] genre of films, Hayek says. But I married a man who really likes them. So I became an expert. So I see them all!

The image of fashions most powerful CEO spending his downtime like this is intriguing. What is his favourite action movie?

Oh, its like Sophies choice for him, I think.

What about Die Hard, I suggest.

Oh, he loves Die Hard. But we love Bourne. She claps her hands. Sometimes he doesnt even like [a film], he says: Oh my God, that was so bad! But he still has to watch the whole thing.

Its a man thing, I say.

Yes! My brother likes that one, my father likes that one and because of that, when we were doing [The Hitmans Bodyguard] I was able to say it was going to work, because it had a lot of the stuff that the good ones have.

Mexican heroine: Hayek playing Frida Kahlo in Frida with Alfred Molina as Diego Rivera.

Similarly, do actors always know when theyre making a turkey?

Oh yeah! Hayek says, crunching through her toast. Yeah, yeah, yeah, you know. And unfortunately Ive never been wrong!

Her CV is mixed. The first Mexican actress to break into Hollywood since Dolores del Ro in the pre-sound 20s, shes played a lesbian taco in the kids film Sausage Party and so-so roles in films such as Spy Kids 3D and Wild, Wild West. But she also earned an Oscar nomination for Frida, her 2002 portrait of Frida Kahlo, and The Hollywood Reporter has just tipped her for 2018s awards season for Beatriz At Dinner, in which she plays an immigrant who clashes with a self-made billionaire.

At first, she says, she hated being famous. This was terrifying because in Mexico when you do a soap, at this point she leaps out of her chair and heads for the door Dont worry, Im not escaping Hello? Her security guard appears with a pack of American Spirit cigarettes. My soap was seen by 60% of the country, so its every day, in their house. Do you mind? Do you want one? she says, offering the smokes. So you become very familiar, like youre their cousin or something. Ive never been so famous since. I kind of hated it.

Taking aim: Hayek in The Hitmans Bodyguard. Photograph: Rex/Shutterstock

If she hated the attention so much, I wonder why she headed for Hollywood. But Hayek is battling with the curtains while she attempts to heave open a sash window so that she can smoke, unlit fag in her mouth. Not relishing the idea of Hayek tumbling on to the streets below, it seems only polite to help. For a few seconds she holds back the curtains, while I struggle to wrench the window.

Oh my God, that was so easy, she says. I really did want to be an actress, not just be famous. Its a different thing. Because I was famous on a soap! That doesnt make you a great actress. So I went to America to start all over again.

This was the 90s. She played extras and enrolled in the Stella Adler Academy Of Acting in LA, alma mater to Marlon Brando and Robert De Niro. And this is how old I am, she [Adler] was still alive! She was 90 and she was still teaching and flirting with the young boys. She was a tough cookie but she was brilliant.

Hayek could barely speak the language – My English sucked worse, there werent any parts. Mexican women played maids or gangsters wives. And thats if you got lucky.

Hayek threatened legal action against one director.

I was screen-testing for the lead in a film and they said that it was not written Latin, but they wouldnt mind changing it. I learned the script but when they sent me the pages [for the audition] there was none of the things I had learned, it was another role. So my agent called them and they said, Are you crazy? Shes Mexican. We can change [the race of] the bimbo, but not the lead.

Fashionista: at Stella McCartney, spring/summer 2016, Paris fashion week. Photograph: Bertrand Rindoff Petroff/Getty Images

She got her agent to call back. Would they please just give her five minutes to audition for the part shed learned?

And they said, Absolutely under no circumstances. So I said, OK, you tell them that they either see me, or Im going to sue them. And they said, Theres no point in her coming, even if she had been the best audition she would have never gotten the part but now we hate her. Does she want to come knowing that we detest her? They kept her waiting for five hours. They wondered why would she do this to herself.

Ive never said this to anyone, the name of the director, but it was Ivan Reitman. And I said, Well, I thought that the director that could see Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito as twins [1988s Twins], and Arnold Schwarzenegger giving birth to a child [1994s Junior] maybe could see a Mexican as a fashion editor. I thought I owed it to the new generation of Mexicans. That if I got this right, maybe something will shift.

Years later, she bumped into Reitman and he apologised. We had such a lovely conversation, he was so elegant, Hayek says. He said, I was wrong.

All of this pales next to the hill she climbed for Frida.

I was obsessed, Hayek says. I was endeavouring to do a film about an artist in a time when all the films about artists had failed. Already [the studios] were going, Oh no. Then Id say, Its a period piece about Mexicans! And theyre communists! Its a love story between an overweight man and a woman that limps and has a moustache!

Committed: Hayek campaigning for womens empowerment with Guccis Frida Giannini and Beyonc. Photograph: Ian Gavan/Getty

One studio did eventually take it on, Edward Norton (her partner at the time) rewrote the script for free and Hayek called in favours from co-stars including Ashley Judd, then one of Hollywoods most bankable faces. It opened in two cinemas. Its success, I suggest, must have been all the sweeter.

Yes, she says. Because [the studio] dismissed it. I didnt even have a poster!

It may not surprise you to learn that Hayek is a committed activist: her list of charitable endeavours is too long to go into here, but it includes her own foundation helping women and children in Mexico, and the feminist charity Chime For Change, founded with Beyonc. Its so massive I dont even know what to tell you. I dont just do awareness, I actually do strategy. Im on the board. It takes a lot, a lot, a lot of time.

Other projects receiving the full force of the Hayek commitment include her range of nutritional juices, and a beauty line which she created herself. She also has her own production company, which helped turn the TV show Ugly Betty based on a Colombian telenovela into a worldwide hit. I ask where this drive comes from.

Its been there since Ive been a child. A sense of justice and responsibility for the human race. How can we be better? Because a lot of people dont think that way. They think: How can I pay less tax? And so when I see things that make me think we are degrading and degenerating mentally it makes me want to do something.

She has been hugely successful. Shes married to one of the worlds richest men. (Their daughter, Valentina, attends school in London.) She could just put her feet up. Of course, its a cheap question we already know the answer.

Why would anybody want to sit around and do nothing?

Hayek says that she made it clear she would always remain financially independent from her husband, whose net worth is around $17.3bn. Which may explain money-job films like Sausage Party.

Mirror mirror: Hayek guest stars in Ugly Betty with America Ferrera. Photograph: Danny Feld/ABC

At the time I met him, I had already decided I didnt want one of those [ie a husband], she says. I had set myself up for a completely different life. I was ready to live on my ranch that is a sanctuary for abused animals. I would come to LA and work a little bit. I was not planning on spending. I had no interest in jewellery or clothes or cars. I had everything I wanted. Maybe I had a guy here or there. I also thought I couldnt have children. Then he [Pinault] came along, swept me off my feet, changed my entire universe and knocked me up.

Can she remember what they first liked about one another?

Yes. I asked him, if he had not been doing what he was doing, what would have been his dream? And he said an astronaut and that was my dream! Then we started talking about different theories of physics, which is my secret passion. And soccer! Im a huge soccer fan [she supports Arsenal]. Just random things that nobody knows I like. It was just magical.

As a global citizen at a time when the world seems to be closing in on itself, is Hayek optimistic for the future?

Very optimistic. I have to look for the positive about everything.

Hayek campaigned for Clinton. Hows it going to end for Trump?

I can promise you hes not going to build the wall. You cannot build it without the Mexicans that are illegally in the country. That is what makes the economy so strong because they are paid less than half, with no benefit. Its just not going to happen!

Hayek is banging her fist on the table.

His days are numbered! Even if he becomes a dictator and rewrites the constitution and now the presidents can stay 12 years! Still his days are numbered!

Salma Hayek: activist, actor, producer, juicer, businesswoman, friend to the animals and all-round proper laugh. You wouldnt mess.

The Hitmans Bodyguard is in cinemas on 17 August

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Salma Hayek: Trump couldn’t build a wall without illegal Mexicans’

Her new film, Beatriz at Dinner, already has Oscar buzz. But on top of the acting, Salma Hayek is also saving animals, running charities and beating the hell out of a Trump piata. Johnny Davis meets Hollywoods busiest firebrand

It was after a neighbour shot her dog that Salma Hayek realised Donald Trump would become president.

I thought it was a crazy thing, that it would never happen but then something really tragic happened to me, she explains. I have a ranch in America and a neighbour of mine killed my dog. Hayek, who owns around 50 animals, including 20 chickens, five parrots, four alpacas, two fish, some cats and a hamster, says that Mozart, the tragic German Shepherd in question, had never attacked anyone. And the authorities in dealing with the neighbour, and what he did How is that legal? [Police have said the neighbour shot her dog after he found it fighting with his dogs in his garage.] Just to understand what was the normality of things. I realised in this moment, Oh my God: hes going to win.

Hayek, a Mexican immigrant to America who identifies as half-Spanish and half- Lebanese, lives in London and is married to a Frenchman who happens to be Franois-Henri Pinault, billionaire CEO of the company that owns Saint Laurent, Stella McCartney, Gucci is perhaps uniquely placed to have firm views on Trump, Brexit and immigration, and well get to them.

Hayek is primarily here this morning to talk about her new movie, The Hitmans Bodyguard. We are at a press junket for the film. Elsewhere on the first floor of this smart London hotel are Samuel L Jackson, Ryan Reynolds and Gary Oldman, answering questions. Junkets can be dispiriting, and rapport can be in short supply. That is, unless youre Salma Hayek, whose personality could light up a funeral. She arrives in a riot of black and red polka dots, tottering shoes and glossy hair, 5ft 2in and somehow 50 years old, although agelessly beautiful. She plonks herself into an armchair, hoists her legs up, and proceeds to tug the small table between us towards her. Do you mind? Theyre bringing me food. I like my food.

Hasnt she had breakfast?

I did but Im still hungry, she grins.

A round of avocado on toast is spirited into the room, accompanied by a mystery shake in a plastic container. (A second round soon follows.) Famous since she was a soap star in Mexico in her 20s and with 40-plus Hollywood films to her name, Hayek has done literally thousands of interviews. What does she make of the publicity circuit?

Im good! she says. I just pretend Im having a conversation with a new friend.

Other half: Hayek and her billionaire husband Franois-Henri Pinault. Photograph: Tony Barson Archive/WireImage

Indeed, Hayek proves impossible not to like. She may be the perfect chat-show guest: various presenters have hooted along as shes shown off pictures of her Donald Trump piata, discussed her experience as a late-developing teen immersing herself in holy water and praying to Jesus for breasts, or confessing she accused Monsieur Pinault of having an affair after discovering text messages from Elena, only to discover Elena was a language-teaching app.

In fact, we have Pinault to thank for Hayeks turn in The Hitmans Bodyguard. The comedy-action caper is basically a mismatched buddy movie for Jackson and Reynolds, hitman and bodyguard respectively. Hayek is only in a few scenes, but as Jacksons imprisoned criminal wife she matches him profanity for profanity.

I think Salma steals the whole movie, says director Patrick Hughes. I challenge anyone not to fall in love with her because (a) shes a polymath and (b) she kicks ass.

I have to tell you: action is not my favouritest [sic] genre of films, Hayek says. But I married a man who really likes them. So I became an expert. So I see them all!

The image of fashions most powerful CEO spending his downtime like this is intriguing. What is his favourite action movie?

Oh, its like Sophies choice for him, I think.

What about Die Hard, I suggest.

Oh, he loves Die Hard. But we love Bourne. She claps her hands. Sometimes he doesnt even like [a film], he says: Oh my God, that was so bad! But he still has to watch the whole thing.

Its a man thing, I say.

Yes! My brother likes that one, my father likes that one and because of that, when we were doing [The Hitmans Bodyguard] I was able to say it was going to work, because it had a lot of the stuff that the good ones have.

Mexican heroine: Hayek playing Frida Kahlo in Frida with Alfred Molina as Diego Rivera.

Similarly, do actors always know when theyre making a turkey?

Oh yeah! Hayek says, crunching through her toast. Yeah, yeah, yeah, you know. And unfortunately Ive never been wrong!

Her CV is mixed. The first Mexican actress to break into Hollywood since Dolores del Ro in the pre-sound 20s, shes played a lesbian taco in the kids film Sausage Party and so-so roles in films such as Spy Kids 3D and Wild, Wild West. But she also earned an Oscar nomination for Frida, her 2002 portrait of Frida Kahlo, and The Hollywood Reporter has just tipped her for 2018s awards season for Beatriz At Dinner, in which she plays an immigrant who clashes with a self-made billionaire.

At first, she says, she hated being famous. This was terrifying because in Mexico when you do a soap, at this point she leaps out of her chair and heads for the door Dont worry, Im not escaping Hello? Her security guard appears with a pack of American Spirit cigarettes. My soap was seen by 60% of the country, so its every day, in their house. Do you mind? Do you want one? she says, offering the smokes. So you become very familiar, like youre their cousin or something. Ive never been so famous since. I kind of hated it.

Taking aim: Hayek in The Hitmans Bodyguard. Photograph: Rex/Shutterstock

If she hated the attention so much, I wonder why she headed for Hollywood. But Hayek is battling with the curtains while she attempts to heave open a sash window so that she can smoke, unlit fag in her mouth. Not relishing the idea of Hayek tumbling on to the streets below, it seems only polite to help. For a few seconds she holds back the curtains, while I struggle to wrench the window.

Oh my God, that was so easy, she says. I really did want to be an actress, not just be famous. Its a different thing. Because I was famous on a soap! That doesnt make you a great actress. So I went to America to start all over again.

This was the 90s. She played extras and enrolled in the Stella Adler Academy Of Acting in LA, alma mater to Marlon Brando and Robert De Niro. And this is how old I am, she [Adler] was still alive! She was 90 and she was still teaching and flirting with the young boys. She was a tough cookie but she was brilliant.

Hayek could barely speak the language – My English sucked worse, there werent any parts. Mexican women played maids or gangsters wives. And thats if you got lucky.

Hayek threatened legal action against one director.

I was screen-testing for the lead in a film and they said that it was not written Latin, but they wouldnt mind changing it. I learned the script but when they sent me the pages [for the audition] there was none of the things I had learned, it was another role. So my agent called them and they said, Are you crazy? Shes Mexican. We can change [the race of] the bimbo, but not the lead.

Fashionista: at Stella McCartney, spring/summer 2016, Paris fashion week. Photograph: Bertrand Rindoff Petroff/Getty Images

She got her agent to call back. Would they please just give her five minutes to audition for the part shed learned?

And they said, Absolutely under no circumstances. So I said, OK, you tell them that they either see me, or Im going to sue them. And they said, Theres no point in her coming, even if she had been the best audition she would have never gotten the part but now we hate her. Does she want to come knowing that we detest her? They kept her waiting for five hours. They wondered why would she do this to herself.

Ive never said this to anyone, the name of the director, but it was Ivan Reitman. And I said, Well, I thought that the director that could see Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny DeVito as twins [1988s Twins], and Arnold Schwarzenegger giving birth to a child [1994s Junior] maybe could see a Mexican as a fashion editor. I thought I owed it to the new generation of Mexicans. That if I got this right, maybe something will shift.

Years later, she bumped into Reitman and he apologised. We had such a lovely conversation, he was so elegant, Hayek says. He said, I was wrong.

All of this pales next to the hill she climbed for Frida.

I was obsessed, Hayek says. I was endeavouring to do a film about an artist in a time when all the films about artists had failed. Already [the studios] were going, Oh no. Then Id say, Its a period piece about Mexicans! And theyre communists! Its a love story between an overweight man and a woman that limps and has a moustache!

Committed: Hayek campaigning for womens empowerment with Guccis Frida Giannini and Beyonc. Photograph: Ian Gavan/Getty

One studio did eventually take it on, Edward Norton (her partner at the time) rewrote the script for free and Hayek called in favours from co-stars including Ashley Judd, then one of Hollywoods most bankable faces. It opened in two cinemas. Its success, I suggest, must have been all the sweeter.

Yes, she says. Because [the studio] dismissed it. I didnt even have a poster!

It may not surprise you to learn that Hayek is a committed activist: her list of charitable endeavours is too long to go into here, but it includes her own foundation helping women and children in Mexico, and the feminist charity Chime For Change, founded with Beyonc. Its so massive I dont even know what to tell you. I dont just do awareness, I actually do strategy. Im on the board. It takes a lot, a lot, a lot of time.

Other projects receiving the full force of the Hayek commitment include her range of nutritional juices, and a beauty line which she created herself. She also has her own production company, which helped turn the TV show Ugly Betty based on a Colombian telenovela into a worldwide hit. I ask where this drive comes from.

Its been there since Ive been a child. A sense of justice and responsibility for the human race. How can we be better? Because a lot of people dont think that way. They think: How can I pay less tax? And so when I see things that make me think we are degrading and degenerating mentally it makes me want to do something.

She has been hugely successful. Shes married to one of the worlds richest men. (Their daughter, Valentina, attends school in London.) She could just put her feet up. Of course, its a cheap question we already know the answer.

Why would anybody want to sit around and do nothing?

Hayek says that she made it clear she would always remain financially independent from her husband, whose net worth is around $17.3bn. Which may explain money-job films like Sausage Party.

Mirror mirror: Hayek guest stars in Ugly Betty with America Ferrera. Photograph: Danny Feld/ABC

At the time I met him, I had already decided I didnt want one of those [ie a husband], she says. I had set myself up for a completely different life. I was ready to live on my ranch that is a sanctuary for abused animals. I would come to LA and work a little bit. I was not planning on spending. I had no interest in jewellery or clothes or cars. I had everything I wanted. Maybe I had a guy here or there. I also thought I couldnt have children. Then he [Pinault] came along, swept me off my feet, changed my entire universe and knocked me up.

Can she remember what they first liked about one another?

Yes. I asked him, if he had not been doing what he was doing, what would have been his dream? And he said an astronaut and that was my dream! Then we started talking about different theories of physics, which is my secret passion. And soccer! Im a huge soccer fan [she supports Arsenal]. Just random things that nobody knows I like. It was just magical.

As a global citizen at a time when the world seems to be closing in on itself, is Hayek optimistic for the future?

Very optimistic. I have to look for the positive about everything.

Hayek campaigned for Clinton. Hows it going to end for Trump?

I can promise you hes not going to build the wall. You cannot build it without the Mexicans that are illegally in the country. That is what makes the economy so strong because they are paid less than half, with no benefit. Its just not going to happen!

Hayek is banging her fist on the table.

His days are numbered! Even if he becomes a dictator and rewrites the constitution and now the presidents can stay 12 years! Still his days are numbered!

Salma Hayek: activist, actor, producer, juicer, businesswoman, friend to the animals and all-round proper laugh. You wouldnt mess.

The Hitmans Bodyguard is in cinemas on 17 August

Read more: http://ift.tt/2vte64U

from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2vDsF6c via Viral News HQ